#also i realized like halfway through that something is off about craigs face but i was too lazy to go back and fix it

[acreekinthenight]

on a coffee date but Craig won't stop staring

[nightingaelic]

Got this idea from when my courier wore the Riot Gear. Fnv companions react to the Courier, who they thought is a big scary guy, removing their helmet to reveal their actually a fem!courier underneath. Samus style. Like full voice modification only for them to have a sweet voice and also pretty hair.

For the record, pretty hair is very hard to pull off under a helmet

Mojave Express couriers on the job weren't a talkative bunch to begin with, given how loose lips might spell the doom of someone carrying items of value, but Courier Six had a reputation for being quiet even among other couriers. Their red-eyed ranger helmet remained silent from the start of a delivery to its finish, and even when they spent their caps on supplies and a room at the local bar, their verbal requests were minimal, distorted, and uttered only through the protective layer of a mask.

They were reliable with their deliveries though, so it quickly became a running joke around the Mojave after the business in Goodsprings that the silent, veiled walker of the wasteland had simply refused to have red in their ledger, and had risen from the grave accordingly. Word of their deeds spread fast, and their reputation only grew - tall as an old yucca, strong as a yao guai, with naught but vengeance and grit beneath their helmet. By the time they had made their way through the desert, passed the credit check onto the New Vegas Strip and located the front doors of the Tops, their companion had mostly accepted that this secrecy was permanent for some reason. In fact, they had been prepared to never know the face of the person they shared their road with.

This just made it all the more confusing when the courier stopped in front of the casino they'd set their sights on and pried their helmet off to reveal a wave of shining hair. They lowered their headgear and sighed, a delicate sound that would previously have been muffled by the carbon fiber and plastic, and turned to their stunned traveling companion. "Ready?"

Arcade Gannon: "Whoa, hang on." Arcade reached out as if to grab the courier's shoulder, then thought better of it halfway through the motion. The result was a limp grope that they eyed defensively, taking a half-step back from the researcher.

"S-sorry," Arcade stuttered, realizing just how stupid he looked in this moment. "I just- you weren't going to- why didn't you-?"

The courier realized the source of his flabbergasted expression and giggled. "Er- yeah, sorry, I wasn't thinking about- well he won't recognize me if I have this on."

They held up their helmet and tapped its dome with their thumbs. "Or maybe he will, I was wearing it before I ran into him and the Khans, too. But I'm not the only person wearing NCR armor in town, so..."

Arcade's impulse to be defensive of this person who had just revealed their appearance to him quickly suffocated. They might have a face that inspired protectiveness, but he'd been traveling with them long enough to know that they were more than capable of defending themselves. Still, it raised questions that he knew would eat at him if left alone too long.

Arcade jerked his head toward the Tops. "If there's still a bar in there after you're finished... can I buy you a drink? We should talk."

The courier raised an eyebrow, but they nodded. "Sure. Well... maybe not here, depending on how things go."

Craig Boone: Boone wasn't sure what they were expecting him to say. He'd followed them from Novac, he'd scouted ridges for them and dispatched enemies from hundreds of yards away, and not once had he needed a reminder to be alert and prepared. But as they gazed at him, right through his sunglasses and past the composure he wore to keep himself sane, something he thought he'd buried twinged.

He nodded. The courier searched his face for a moment longer, before returning the nod and facing the doors again. "Then let's go. I've got a bullet to repay."

Lily Bowen: "Dearie, you ought to brush your hair before we go into a fancy establishment," Lily suggested. The nightkin began rooting around in her bag. "Let grandma do it for you."

"Lily, I don't think we have time for-"

"Hush." Lily withdrew a gap-toothed comb that she'd held onto through the years - not for her own head, obviously, but because it reminded her of an underground life gone by - and patted the corner of a large, raised plant bed that was decorating the outside of the casino.

The courier sighed and sat, and Lily began to gingerly comb through their hair, avoiding the scars from their first run-in with the owner of the Tops and murmuring encouragements to the tougher tangles. The courier winced a bit and screwed their face up, but they sat as still as they could until their surrogate grandmother was finished.

Lily stowed the comb away and went searching through her pack again. "A mirror... supposed to be a mirror, along with..."

The courier caught her large hand and squeezed it. "I'm sure it looks great," they reassured her. "Benny probably won't even recognize me."

"He had better," Lily said, frowning.

Raul Alfonso Tejada: "Al rato," Raul replied, flabbergasted. "First, you tell me why you didn't take that off sooner. Confías en mí, Six?"

"More than most," the courier answered, after chewing on their lip for a few seconds. "I would've taken it off, but then after you told me about Rafaela... I thought it might..."

They trailed off, and Raul's heart sank. "You thought we might have a problem."

"Mmm-hm." The courier tucked the helmet under their arm. "Judging by your face, we do."

Raul didn't deny it. He'd seen the courier destroy raider camps, cut down assassins, work miracles for the wasteland and its people - but all he could see now, looking at them, was his little sister and the ugly fate she had met so long ago.

The courier drew their weapon. Raul's hand flashed out and grabbed it, catching their fingers in his grip as well. "I've... I've got your back, boss, but are you sure-"

The courier shrugged his hand away. "Just trust me, okay? I'm not... I know what I'm doing. What I'm about to do."

They turned forcefully and yanked open the door to the casino before Raul could argue. All the old ghoul could do was follow them, muttering "Ojalá," under his breath.

Rose of Sharon Cassidy: "Holy mother of mole rats," Cass yelped, nearly dropping her shotgun in surprise. "You can't just toss a revelation like that on the pavement and expect me to not be rattled, Six!"

"Save it for dinner at the Gourmand, afterwards," the courier joked. "You shoot well enough when you're drunk, I'm sure you can handle an earth-shattering revelation just fine."

"Oh, are you taking me to dinner after this, gorgeous?" Cass grinned. "We might not fit the dress code, unless you plan to pinch that dandy's suit before we pull the fire alarm."

The courier made a face. "No suit. If I had to scrape together 2,000 caps just to make it into this circus, I can afford something new for both of us, plus dinner."

Cass fluttered a hand playfully against her chest. "For little old me? That's just too much, Six, you worked hard for that money. What's say we just rob the guy you're about to shoot and use his caps instead?"

The courier laughed and did a little bow. "A capital idea, my fair lady. Shall we?"

"We shall." Cass gave a wobbly curtsy and linked elbows with them. "And for the record, I am no lady."

Veronica Santangelo: Veronica whistled long and low, taking in the courier's pretty face. The courier blushed and dipped their head self-consciously, causing the Scribe to backtrack in her appreciation. "I mean- I mean, I didn't mean- just that I- just wow, Six."

"'Wow' as in 'way to spring this on me last minute', or 'wow' as in... wow?" the courier asked.

"Both. Mostly the second." Veronica looked them up and down appreciatively. "I totally get it, there are advantages to going around with your face hidden, but god, the wasteland's missing out when it comes to you."

"Oh, stop it."

"Oh no, you opened this can of Cram, Six. Now all I'm going to be thinking about for the next month is how everyone out there sees a stoic warrior of vengeance when you roll into town, but underneath your getup you're a sweet little cinnamon roll with the face of an angel."

"I can be both," the courier chided her gently. They tucked the helmet under their arm and turned back toward the doors of the Tops. "Both warrior and cinnamon roll. Whichever one gets me where I need to go."

"A tall cinnamon roll," Veronica murmured appreciatively, falling into step behind them.

ED-E: ED-E blipped its agreement and shook its chassis to show excitement. The courier nodded and took a deep breath, ignoring the stares of passersby who were suddenly walking through the Strip at much slower paces. "I don't know how he's going to react, but just in case he leads with that pistol of his, cover me," they said.

ED-E cooed down at the bright pair of eyes that had been hidden behind the helmet until this point. Its initial scans of the courier back in the Primm outpost had told the eyebot everything it needed to know, and it didn't find their decision to hide their face all that unreasonable. After all, it knew a thing or two about catching a bullet in its circuitry. They both did.

"Thanks, ED-E," the courier said with a smile. "Let's do this."

Rex: Rex barked and pitched forward into a playful stance, splaying out one organic paw and one cybernetic paw on the sidewalk. The courier chuckled and crouched down to scratch behind his ears. "I know, I know, you love it when people take their hats off. Have you been here before? Did the King take you, at some point? I could use a guide, if we have to beat a hasty retreat."

Rex sniffed the ground a bit before looking up at them with a lolling tongue. The courier nodded and straightened up. "Alright, then. Better get moving, before any Chairmen manage to warn the boss that I'm coming."

[southwindscoffee]

the power of story

I’m realizing how much of my life is driven by my need for a good story.

 There’s a Pendleton blanket on my bed that’s the kind they use on the red buses at Glacier National Park. I could have just about any blanket on my bed that I choose, but I wanted this particular one. Had to have it, actually. I bought it because it reminded me of being on those red vintage buses on the “Going to the Sun” road, with the wind blowing in our faces and the blankets on the seats to protect us from the elements. With that purchase, I now have at least two stories: the story of the purchase/our trip to Glacier, but also the story/fantasy of being on a vintage bus and pretending I was going back in time and looking at the national parks during, like, the 1940s.

 The Christmas present I asked for this year (and received) was a branded N. Peal Bond girl sweater. Could I have found just about any black cashmere V-neck sweater and pretended it was a Bond girl sweater? Absolutely. Or any sweater, not cashmere. Obviously. Would have been cheaper, too. But is it more fun to have the item with the story behind the item? Yes. Also, it’s divine.

 Same goes for the coffee mug I use daily and the Swatch watch I wear—both ones that Ben Whishaw as Q wears in the Bond films. Apparently I have a slight Bond fetish. But I’m not the only one—how many Omega watches have been sold because of story? That story being that you’ll be James Bond when you wear it, even if you look nothing like Daniel Craig. Also it must say a lot about me that I want the “nerdy” Q stuff rather than the hot Bond stuff.

 I spent the last two days engrossed in a self-published book that was apparently a sensation in 2013-2014—the Foxhole Court books. I’m extremely late to the party, since I’d never heard of them until a few days ago. From my perspective, the books have plain covers, no marketing, and zero frills. The writing, although plenty competent and compelling, isn’t fancy from a stylish perspective.

 But I couldn’t put the books down.

 I didn’t even decide if I liked them until the third book. But reading them and coming to an opinion was kind of like my experience reading the Hunger Games—it’s hard to say I “liked” something about killing children, but it was eminently readable. Something to get obsessed about. The Foxhole books are much more violent than what I normally read, and they’re hard to categorize—sports books? (and it’s Exy, a Quidditch-type sport, not a sport that exists) or mafia book? or gay romance?)—but the more I read, the more fascinated I became with what was keeping me reading them. In other words, I was fascinated by two stories—the one on the page and the reasons behind me being so hooked.

 I don’t think the things I’m writing here are spoilers, but a warning that if you do want to read them, perhaps go in blind and stop reading this blog post.

 You know from the very beginning that Neil, the narrator, was using a pseudonym, but you don’t know what his real name is or why he’s using a pseudonym. So that keeps you reading, because you want to know what his name is and what happened to him.

 I guessed that there would be a romance, but I didn’t even figure out his eventual love interest until halfway through the second book. If you’d have asked me from the beginning, I thought his love interest was going to be someone else.

 At one point in the third book, Neil begins to get text messages from different numbers. It starts with “49.” Then the next day from a different number, “48.” And a few chapters later, he’s in the twenties. I had no idea what was being counted down (and neither did Neil), but god did that device make it so I had to find out.

 I guess what hooked me was that there were so many things to figure out. The series kept me reading because I just HAD to find out what the story was—and there were so many stories, so many things to figure out—with all these flawed, complicated characters all having twisted backstories and motivations. I didn’t likeall of the characters, but by the end I fell in love with all of them. It was a very strange experience.

 I think what I’m experiencing is a total book hangover and the need to process it.

 I’ve heard from so many sources—Seth Godin, Save the Cat, and so on—that human beings are wired for story. There’s a line from Seinfeld where he talks about the J. Peterman catalog, dismissing it as “a pair of pants, a stupid story, huge mark-up.” And I’ve accepted that statement in the past as a joke.

 But god is it true.

 I need story in my life.

 I don’t know what I plan on doing with this information except doing my best to incorporate it into my own work—holding back information, giving everything back story, having much happen off the page so you have to figure it out.

 We are wired for story. Only now, I’m starting to see it in new and different ways, and the more I see it, the more fascinated I become.

[betsyandmaxwellandduchessohmy]

this isn't even an imagine request but it can be if you want it to be; AU's where dadsona is actually a Fairy Godfather, and not a very good one at that; they resort more to actual fathering than magic most of the time, but one or more of the dads catches them in the act of something they just CAN'T explain away.

((I'm so love for magical au's. How could I not use this bad boy as a prompt?

Decided to give Brian the spotlight on this one, because there’s really not a lot of Brian content. Which is a damn shame! I didn’t enjoy Brian’s route as much as the other dads, because I felt like the competitive streak the route used for the dadsona was more mean-spirited than my own irl competitive streak, but I love Brian as a person! He’s so sweet and gentle and tbh I wish my dad was more like Brian. I have dad envy for Daisy. There. I said it.

A little late on the promised time, but in all fairness to me, I work a late shift at work tonight and had to sleep late so I don’t fall asleep on the production line.

I kind of borrowed the baby teeth thing from the movie Toothless, which I haven’t seen since I was ten or less but had a profound impact on my childhood. I am a grown ass woman, and I still have one of my baby teeth. There was just no adult tooth underneath it, so I have to take extra good care of it. So! If that’s a canon rule for toothfairies/magic, I have a pass to see it!))

~~~

Make A Wish

You sighed softly, kicking a bit of sand as you walked down the beach. It was a beautiful afternoon - a spattering of clouds in the sky, but nothing big enough to block the sun’s bright rays for more than a minute. You had been planning to spend the evening at the baseball fields, watching Craig’s girls’ game, but the other team’s coach had called, saying their bus had broken down and asking to reschedule. Craig said the girls were annoyed, but that they would certainly survive the ordeal of waiting two more days to crush the Pine Place Hashbrowns into the dust. 

So you found yourself with nothing to do. You had been expecting to give some kind of pep-talk, rally the girl’s spirits when they started to lose, and cheer them on to victory. Now there was no guarantee they would still need your help, if indeed they ever would have.

Your powers were chancey that way. You didn’t know if you were doing the fairy-god type of fathering until your wings popped out. There was always a pull guiding you to where you were needed, and once you found the key element of your newest task, your wings materialized, letting you know you were on the right track. They were sort of a radar, in their own way. And of course, this drew attention from children and the occasional tween, since they were the only ones who could see the wings when they appeared. It had taken you until Amanda lost her last baby tooth to realize that that was the defining factor. Once a kid lost their last baby tooth, they were blind to this bit of magic. 

As if on cue, your wings fluttered up, a pale iridescent green with swirling tails that stretched halfway down your calves, just in time to feel a bump to your hip that nearly bowled you over.

An undignified sound escaped your throat as you stumbled, and you looked down at your assailant - an enormous cocoa brown mastiff, with a dusky brown muzzle and ears. She looked up at you with droopy eyes, almost expectant, just waiting for you to do something. Offering your hand, she gave you a sniff and a nuzzle. “So what’s your name, gorgeous?” you asked, taking a knee so you could rub at her face. If this beauty needed a home, you’d be more than happy to provide one, but that didn’t seem quite right. Besides, she was wearing a collar - return her to her home? Except the collar only held a tag that assured a rabies shot, the back of which gave the address for the animal shelter.

But ‘home’ felt right. Looking into the dog’s dark eyes, it struck you, and you smiled. “Can I trust you to follow me?” you asked, taking a step and looking back to indicate that she should.

She looked at you blankly and you sighed. “What if I promise you treats when we get there?”

You took another step and the dog began to follow, and your grin returned. You started heading back to the cul-de-sac, the mastiff at your heels. “Duchess Cordelia? Duchess!”

Glancing back, you noticed a person with dark hair, looking rather out of sorts and clutching a bag of dog treats. It almost looked like-

You shook your head and kept walking. Damien wouldn’t be caught dead wearing a polo shirt.

In any case, they hadn’t seemed to have noticed you, so you kept walking, carefully ducking out of sight of the shelter employee

“The Duchess Cordelia, huh? I think it suits you,” you hummed, grinning at the oversized pup. “Well, Duchess, let’s get you adopted, huh?”

~~~

It was only a short walk back to the cul-de-sac, but you were grateful that working out with Craig seemed to have made it a little easier. Flying would have been easiest, had you not had to worry about being spotted, and carrying two-hundred pounds of dog.

The Duchess, seeming to know better than you what she was doing, trotted right up to Hugo’s door and began fiddling with the knob. She probably would have gotten it open, too, had it not been locked. You’d kind of been hoping Hugo would be home so you could talk him into adopting before the shelter person found their way here, but the loud music blasting from the upper floor said Ernest was probably home, and you would take what you could get. “You’ve got the right idea,” you grinned, brows furrowing nervously. “Normally I’d say ‘a little breaking and entering never hurt anyone, but. Well.” Shaking your head, you lifted your hand, waving her away from the knob, now plastered in drool and mud. Luckily, with a little zap of magic, the door creaked open, and that was all the Duchess needed to get inside. 

“MC?”

You jumped, whipping around to spot Brian, looking at you with all the concern one expected of someone who just witnessed one neighbor let a strange dog into another neighbor’s house. “Can I ask why you just-” “Duchess!?”

You groaned, grabbing Brian’s arm and hauling the larger man to the side of the house. When he tried to ask what you were doing again, you shushed him, wings fluttering nervously as you peered around the side of the building. Polo person seemed to note the open door with a groan of their own, moving quickly to the front step and knocking politely before stepping inside. “MC, what is going on?” Brian demanded. You shushed him, peering through the window. 

“I’ll explain later. For now, I just need you to trust me,” you added, whispering your plea for patience. You expected Brian to saunter off to call the police, but instead, he sidled up beside you, both of you poking your heads up over the window sill to look in on the scene. The Duchess seemed to have left the sitting room in tact, but she definitely did not like the leash that Polo Person-

“Is that Damien?”

Holy shit, that is Damien.

“... I didn’t know he wore polo shirts.”

She didn’t seem to like the idea of Damien leashing her.

Things were looking cagey; Damien seemed to be trying to reason with the Duchess, until a flash of orange drew your eye, and suddenly, the Duchess blew past Damien, tackling Ernest to the ground and eating a pizza roll from his hand “Sweet success,” you grinned, until you caught sight of your wings out of the corner of your eye. Was there something else-? “So you want to explain to me why you put a stray dog in Hugo’s house and count his son getting tackled as a ‘success’?”

Ah. So there was. “And maybe also the wings?” What.

“I mean, I’m not one to judge, and they look like they’re very high-quality, but I don’t think-” “You can see them?” Brian seemed jarred by your interruption, but even more so by the way the words “Dad can we keep her” (And when did Hugo get home?) made them fold down and vanish off your back.

“I mean- I could? A second ago?” he murmured, bushy brows furrowing in confusion as he leaned back as if to check that they truly were gone. 

“It’s… a long story,” you confessed, running a hand through your hair. “Why don’t we… get out of Hugo’s yard? I’ll explain everything.”

The two of you sneaked back out to the sidewalk, a little hand-wave and a whispered spell on your part kept the men on the front step from noticing you, but Hugo seemed thrilled with the situation, excited to have his son call him ‘dad’ again.”

Brian seemed befuddled and a little frustrated, but you walked him back to your house and sat in the lawn chairs in your backyard.

“So, as much as I would love to simplify it down to “I found a home for a dog and a dog for a home”, you being able - to see me, like that… it complicates things.”

“How so?” he asked, drawing your shy gaze. “Seems fairy straightforward to me.” Any other time, that would have made you crack up. Even now it drew a chuckle out of you, but for the most part, you were solemn. “Does it now?” “Well, you did what needed doing, in an odd sense and with an admittedly strange method, but it did seem to work. It’s been a while since I’ve seen Hugo smile like that when talking about Ernest.”

You couldn’t help but smile, glad to have had a hand in your neighbor’s joy.

“I just… this can’t really be real, can it? I mean, that very nearly looked like magic,”

“It was,” you sighed, drawing his eye. “What i don’t understand is how you saw my wings. Only kids ever see them! People lose the ability to see magic when they lose their baby teeth - it’s a representation of childhood innocence thing.”

“I still have a baby tooth. There was no adult tooth underneath, so if that’s the rule… I didn’t exactly break it…” You sighed, taking a long dredge of pop.

“If that’s the case, I’m surprised you haven’t seen anything before. We’re not exactly subtle around adults, since they usually can’t see any magical shenaniganery.”

“Okay. Well, the wings are gone now, so… what’s that about?”

“They become visible when the job starts and vanish when it ends,” you explained, resting your elbows on your legs and folding your hands. “I told you I travel around town for work, and that I worked with kids, both of which are true.”

“You said you were a child psychologist.” “I said no such thing. I told you about my job and let you draw your own conclusions. The actual, official title is Fairy Godparent. The wings are… sort of a radar. When there’s something I can do to help someone who needs it, they become visible and act as a sort of calming aura, to let kids know that they can trust me. Sometimes it’s granting a wish kind of help that they need, for bigger stuff, but most of the time… most of the time, they just need someone to talk to. To tell them it’s going to be alright.” You gave a shrug, summoning a few cans of soda from the garage and offering one to Brian. Who accepted dumbly and looked at the unlit firepit as he absorbed all he’d been told. 

“So… Wand? Crown? Magic?”

“The crown and wand are a uniform thing, I only wear them to meetings and evaluations.” “Fairies have meetings and evaluations?” “There are offices, too. Real similar to mortal offices, except everyone has wings,” you chuckled. Sighing softly, you took a sip from your can. He did the same. 

He pestered you with questions for the next half an hour; Are there other fairy god parents in Maple Bay? Did Amanda know? Was her other parent a fairy too? How well did being a fairy pay? You answered them dutifully; Yes, we all work in precinct-like sectors, she’s always known, Alex was a mortal, it pays well enough.

“You think the dog is a good plan for Ernest?” he asked finally, after you finally caved and lit a fire to show off a little magic. 

“It’ll give him a chance to be responsible, and hopefully give him and Hugo something to bond over,” you hummed, finishing off your can. Brian chuckled, scratching at his beardy cheek with a thoughtful look. “You alright there big guy?”

“I was just thinking…” “Uh oh, that’s worrying.” “Watch it, MC.” “Sorry,” you gave him an apologetic smile. He pouted lightly at you, but it melted into a smile of his own a moment later. “What were you thinking?”

“I probably should’ve figured something magical was going on a lot sooner,” he stated, swirling the last of his soda in the can and watching you out of the corner of his eye. His grin went a little cheeky. “There always was something enchanting about you.”

You would have spit out your soda if you’d had any left. Instead you choked on air, looking at him with wide eyes and red cheeks. You ducked your head, trying to hide your smile.

The stars had begun to dot the twilight sky. You heard a deep ‘boof’ a few houses down, and somehow, in years of performing magic big and small, this was the first time you were the one to be bewitched.

[jessahmewren]

in transit / Gillovny fic

Well boys and girls I kind of went for the deep end here and wrote one of my fav pairings.  I hope I did them justice.  Oh yeah and this is pretty filthy so don’t read this around innocents, at work, around public buildings or at all probably.  

Summary: David and Gillian share a limo on the way to the Jimmy Kimmel Show, and things get a little heated.

Also at A03.

-0-0-0-

The engine idled almost soundlessly, blowing a billowy cloud of white exhaust into the brisk January air.  It was cold, even for L.A., and David sighed, his lips pursed in thought as he looked at the growing storm clouds through the tinted windows of the limousine.  If she didn’t hurry, they wouldn’t make it there before the rain.

“So um, how did you like that game the other night Mr. Duchovny?”  David looked up, suddenly pulled from thought, to see the partition down and the driver making eye contact with him through the rearview mirror.  He wasn’t Sam, he realized absently.  This man was new and much younger.

“I’m sorry, what was that?”  He was halfway listening, one eye on the door of Gillian’s building, the other on his watch.

“The College Football National Championship,” the young man replied, the eagerness building in his eyes.  “Helluva game.”

“Um, I didn’t watch it,” David murmured absently.  “Listen—I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name.”

“Craig sir.”  The young man smiled genuinely at David, and to his credit, David returned in kind.

“Craig.  Could you ring Ms. Anderson’s building again?  Remind her assistant that we have to be at Kimmel’s in an hour and it’s rush hour?”

“Y-yes sir.”  

The partition went up again, and for that, David was grateful. He pulled out his cellphone and opened a text window.

David: DARLING

Gillian: yes LOVE?

David: where the hell are you

Gillian: finishing something important

David: hon get your ass in the car

Gillian: can’t in the middle of something

David: can’t it wait?

Gillian: no ;)

David: wait a min

Gillian: …

David: Gillian get down here rn

David: Gillian

David GILLIAN

Gillian: stop shouting at me

Gillian: if you would help me maybe I would finish quicker <3

David: I will do no such thing

David: This is a silly ritual anyway

Gillian: it’s not silly.  I get nervous.

David: so you have to flick the bean before every interview

Gillian: I hate it when you call it that :(

He closed the chat window, cursing to himself at the semi he was now nursing.  Just knowing Gillian was up there, panties around her ankles (or carelessly thrown in a corner) her hand buried between her thighs…

David shifted uncomfortably on the plush leather seat, now unfortunately fully hard.  Then, as if on cue, Gillian emerged from the ornate doors of her building, blonde hair streaming over her shoulders, little black dress swishing around her toned calves.

Craig opened the door for her, and she effortlessly slid into the backseat alongside David, bumping shoulders with him before crossing her smooth legs and canting her hips just so as she got comfortable.  David managed to hide his erection from Craig with a crossed arm over his lap, and the engine revved a little as the pulled away from the curb and into midday traffic in L.A.

“Gimme your hands,” David said as the limo joined the line of commuters headed for downtown.  Gillian played coy but finally relented as he pressed her fingers firmly to his nose, inhaling deeply.

“You washed up too well,” he said, frowning.  “There’s barely any of you left.”

Gillian laughed, snatching them away from his nose and back into her lap.  “Why should I tell you anything,” she said, smiling, “when you were so unsupportive before?”

David curled his lips against the crook of her neck, relishing in the warmth there.  “Oh but I do support you,” he whispered as his hand trailed up the curve of her leg.  “I was just jealous before.  Jealous of those pretty fingers.”  His hands met her inner thigh, and she squirmed a little in her seat.  “Did my Gilly use a toy?”

“The blue one,” she whispered, her eyes nearly closed.

David smiled, leaning over to kiss her ear.  “Ah, the blue one.  I love that one.  It’s got the little—“

“The bunny ears,” Gillian supplied breathlessly.  David’s hand had reached the juncture of her thighs now. He could feel the heat of her through the barely-there thong she wore beneath her dress.

“What do you say nervous girl…you got another one in you?”  David nipped at her neck while simultaneously thumbing her clit through the thin lace.

She moaned softly, finding his lips, opening her legs to the flat of his hand as his digits trailed through her wet heat.

She gasped into his mouth as he shed the thong, stripping it down her legs to her knees, liking the way her milky white skin looked against the black lace.  He palmed her breast then, rolling a nipple between thumb and forefinger, pinching it just to the point of pain.

Gillian keened before biting the back of her hand, remembering the babyfaced driver and the thin partition separating them.  But David took her hand away.  “Make all the noise you want baby.”  He worked her clit with the thick pad of his thumb, spreading her wetness over the hood before plunging two of his digits into her tight heat.  “I want the world to know you’re mine.”

“Yess,” Gillian moaned, her legs braced against the adjacent seats.  “I’m yours,” she choked out.  With David’s fingers crooked inside her mercilessly working against her g-spot, she could feel the tight hot coil of her orgasm threatening to tip her over the edge.  She began to thrust against his fingers, riding hard as the warmth in her belly spread to her limbs and across her torso.  She clung to his shoulders, seeking closeness…seeking more.

“It’s just…” she stammered between thrusts…”I need…”

Gillian was almost whining, but David knew his lover.  He brushed the hair back from her face.  “You need me to fill you up baby?  Fill you all up?” he said as he took his other hand and spread her wetness back over her bum.

She nodded emphatically.

“Just one finger then,” he said gently, and as soon as he filled her she came like a vice, her juices covering his hand and the seat beneath her.

He cooed softly, rocking her gently as she came down from her high.  He was harder than ever now, precum soaking the front of his pants.  He rubbed his hand over his erection, seeking a bit of relief.

“You did so well sweetie.  It’s what you needed.”

Gillian reached up to stroke his face, finally noticing the prominent bulge in his pants.

“What about what you need David?” Her bright eyes flashed up at him almost innocently, but when Gillian reached out to stroke him, he stayed her hand.

“We don’t have time for that hon.  I’ll be fine.”

Gillian blinked at him in disbelief.  “Of course we do.  Look at that traffic.”  She tapped on the partition and within in a few seconds, it came down.  “Driver, what’s our ETA?”

Craig looked at the thoroughly debauched woman with a carefully blank expression.  “We’re going to be regrettably late ma’am.  Traffic is heavy.  I have already called ahead.”

Gillian smiled.  “Thank you.”

The partition raised again and Gillian turned her attention back to David.

She began fumbling with his belt, her fingers brushing his erection through his pants.  The sharp intake of breath that resulted spoke of his need and only emboldened her.

When she took him out she trailed a finger along the silken length of him, all veined and angry and leaking for her.  She licked her lips as she looked at him, then met his hazel eyes.

“You like what you see, Ms. Anderson?”  He’d scooted further down in the seat, and his lips were slighted curved in a demure smile.

“Very much so, Mr. Duchovny.” Her hair had fallen over one shoulder, and she looked up at him through her lashes.  “I’m about to show you just how much.”

His hips hitched when her lips descended on him, tongue swirling around his uncut head, lips and tongue lapping at the precum beading at the slit.  When she took him in as far as she could, he arched into her, fighting for control as she swallowed him down.

She worked to find her rhythm, moving her head on his member until her mouth was stretched wide over his cock, throat taut with the strain of not gagging with each bob of her head.  David’s breath grew ragged with his own orgasm tightening his spine, a white hot streak of lightening he fought desperately to keep bottled until Gillian inexplicably pulled off of him with a plop.

She smiled up at him, her lips swollen and a shiny thread of saliva hanging from the corner of her mouth.

“Fuck my face lover.” She had a gleam in her eye as she went down on him again, his cock twitching at the heat of her mouth, the power of her words.

He buried his hands in her hair and was powerless to comply.

He thrust into her face…once…twice…three times, his hands buried in those golden strands as he ground out his release.  His teeth were clenched in ecstasy, then his world went white.

When his bitter essence hit her tongue, she swallowed it greedily, hands clenched on his hips as he released his grip on her.  When he finally relaxed, she pulled away from him, wiping her mouth and climbing into his lap.

“You’re so pretty when you come,” Gillian murmured against his cheek.

David smiled, rubbing a thumb across her lips.  “How would you know,” he said with a small laugh.  “You couldn’t see much with your face between my legs.”

Gillian grinned.  “Ah, I’ve seen it all before,” she said with a wave of her hand.

“Old news huh,” he said as he lovingly tweaked her nose.

“Old news,” she sighed.

They said nothing for a long time.  David tucked himself back into his pants, and Gillian straightened her dress.  She lay back against his shoulder.  The patter of rain began to hit the roof of the limo.  

“We’re lucky,” David murmured.  “You know that?”

Gillian ran her hand along the length of his arm.  Outside, the sign for Disney’s El Capitan Theater was just coming into view.  “The luckiest,” she agreed.

-0-0-0-

[dramaqueeenamby]

The Tulips Are Too Red

A/N: So, I have a favor to ask of you all. Sooooo many of you have shared such kind words with me, sending encouragement my way in regards to my writing. Many of you even believe that I could be published my day. That still gets to me. 

Anyway, here’s the thing, before I ventured into writing BP fics, I created a completely fictional story that I planned to post on Wattpad once I finished the other stories on there. Well, that never happened. I was working on chapters, getting up to three done but stopped as I was busy with other Wattpad fics. However, you guys have really got me thinking about my writing and just future in general.

So, I’m posting one of the chapters that I’ve written in the hopes that you guys will let me know your honest opinion of it. If it’s shitty, please say so. Constructive criticism will only make me better as a writer. 

Also, as I was rereading it, I realized that I could really turn this into a BP fanfic as well, a T’Challa x OC story once I finish up the rest of the fics that I’m juggling. 

Okay. I’ll shut up and allow you to read. I also won’t tag anyone because this is far from what you’re used to seeing from me.

----

It Is Winter Here

Chapter 1

It is Winter Here.

There are exactly twenty-four hours in a day. In minutes, that number grows to 1,440, and in seconds, it’s a whopping 86,400. Most people don’t think about stuff like that. Time. Unless they’re wondering how much they have left before they can clock off and go home to their adoring wife who’s been slaving over a stove all day. Or maybe their kids who’ve been home alone since they got out of school doing God knows what with God knows who. Other than those scenarios, and maybe a few more, like I said, hardly ever cross the mind.

But I’m not most people.

I tend to think about these things. I think about a lot of things actually. Like how long Craig plans to grow out his hair, or if Tammy will ever realize that that infomercial with claims of a one hundred percent success rate is based on a trial of exactly five participants, four of them, paid ‘volunteers’. I also notice a lot of things. Most of which, again, people are never privy to because of their supercilious concerns.

Like I said.

Not most people.

I watch her, not even attempting to hide my suspicious stare. She’s been sitting in the same spot for over an hour, a People magazine in hand and expensive shades over her eyes. To anyone else, she’s just another patron with plenty of time to spare. To me, she’s a hawk. No one reads the same magazine for an hour straight, especially one with a Kardashian on the cover.

“For someone who literally needs someone to wipe his ass, this guy is one hell of a di*k.” I look over at Candi who has been reading for roughly thirty minutes and is almost halfway through with the 400-page novel. “He sounds cute though. At least, the way she describes him makes him sound cute.”

“So you’d take him to the shop?” Zaria shifts in her seat, eyes staying on the photographic book in her lap. She’s had the same one for over an hour.

Candi giggles and lifts her left shoulder. “He could own the shop.” I roll my eyes and tap my nails against the mahogany wood armrest of my spacious chair. “Candi likes being on top anyway.”

“Candi likes all positions.” I chime, finally throwing in my two cents.

She sighs loudly and flips her blonde locks over a naturally tanned shoulder. “I’m a lover, Nova. You should try it sometime.”

“Oh I think you have enough to give for the three of us, Candi Cane.” I wink and return my eyes to the woman in question. I squeeze the solid chair, ignoring the pressure it puts on my weak nails. She still has that same damn magazine and has again started from the first page, looking over the front cover like she doesn’t already have the scandalous image and cliched caption memorized.

“Guys.” Zaria’s voice brings me back to reality as she pulls down the sleeves of her white shirt. There’s no need for her to do so, but it’s a habit of hers. “It’s time.”

Sure enough, Pat is only feet away from us, that stupid rehearsed smile on his droopy face.

“Already.” Candi pouts and puts her arms in front of her, hands in between her thighs, her busty chest on full display. “But I’m almost done.”

Pat offers a strained smile, chubby fingers going up to adjust his thick-rimmed glasses. “Why don’t you just buy the book, Candi?”

She tilts her head to the side and deepens her pout. “I already spent my allowance.”

“On?” When she smiles wickedly, his Adam's apple moves up and then down. “Candi.”

“Oh relax, Patty.” She giggles again and chews on her bottom lips, untangling her long legs and rising to her full height. “What kind of girl do you think I am?” She pulls out a southern accent and pulls a finger to her mouth, pretending to think. “Or is it woman?”

“I wanna buy mine,” Zaria informs, also standing up, looking like a lost child next to Candi’s lengthy frame. “Nova?”

I get up, taking Candi’s book and placing it on top of mine. “Yeah. Let’s go.” Zaria pulls her sleeves down again and tucks the book under her arm, walking in front of me, leaving poor Pat to deal with Candi while we complete this transaction.

On our way to the registers, I look back and see that the Hawk is walking out, stuffing the magazine in her black Hamilton bag.

She can’t be stealing. It’s a possibility, but judging by the tennis bracelet on her wrist and that rock on her ring finger, stealing seems rather out of character. No. The magazine is clearly hers. I wiggle my fingers and fix my jaw.

Who in the hell comes to a bookstore to read a magazine they already own?

Like I said, hawk.

✻ ✻ ✻ ✻ ✻ ✻ ✻ ✻

The car ride back is long, bumpy, and crowded. The van, overdue for some serious improvements or a junking, has a strong odor. It’s not vomit inducing, but its stench will leave you crinkling your nose when you first get a waft. In the second row, seatbelt stretched and clutching onto a protruding chest, Candi engages in conversation with the driver.

He’s new, probably a tempt, and after a car ride with Candi Wallace, this will be his last time filling in.

“It’s so beautiful.” Zaria murmurs to my left, her tiny fingers and raggedy nails trailing over a portrait of the grand canyon. “The view from the top must be breathtaking.”

I give the picture a few seconds of my time, for her sake. It is nice, but nature has never really stood out to me. Too many elements that I can’t control. “Maybe one day you can take your own picture. That one, I’d maybe even frame.”

Aside from a small smile, she says nothing.

The rest of the ride is filled with Candi’s musing and Pat’s occasional business calls. When we pull up, the driver and Pat flash ID’s; the guard peaks his head in the car to make sure that everything checks out.

After Candi flashes him a wink and places her index finger in her mouth, he gives her a one-over and lets us in.

“He wants me.” She mouths to us and then giggles, clapping her hands together and resuming her goal of bugging the driver. When we pull up to the entrance, she’s the first one out, blowing him a kiss and happily waving. “Call me.”

“Maybe,” I add on, smiling when she shoots me a glare. “I couldn’t help.”

“Jealousy really isn’t becoming of you, Nova.” She raises her chin and saunters through the automatic doors, switching her hips and uttering variations of hello to everyone she passes.

“You gotta admit.” Zaria starts, keeping her book clutched against her chest. “She’s fun to be around.”

I look over my shoulder to see Pat watching us closely. He’s so annoying.

I roll my eyes. “My lady, you and I have very different definitions of fun.” Swinging my arm around her shoulder is easy as we’re roughly the same height. I think I have an inch on her, maybe even less.

She laughs, and I crack a small smile. Those are becoming more prevalent by the day. It’s a stark contrast from our first meeting where she woke me up out of my sleep with screams and sobs that were only silenced by a heavy sedative.

We’ve come a long way.

“Ladies.” Pat interrupts. I suppress my eye roll.

As always, Candi is the first to volunteer. Smiling happily, she keeps her arms up wide and legs spread perfectly. “It’s new.” She informs happily when the man reaches her chest and pouts when he says nothing in reference to Candi’s new bra. When he’s done, Candi mouths ‘as*hat’ to us, and I put myself in front of the man before he gets a chance to call on Zaria.

With a bored face, I let him do his job, sending a glare when he keeps his hands on my as* for too long.

Creep.

When it comes to Zaria’s turn, I take her book from her, sending her a reassuring grin. She doesn’t return my gesture, but I’m okay with that. Her eyes say thanks. That’s enough for me.

Any sign of trust from Zaria is enough for me.

My glare stays on the jerk the entire time. I watch his every movement, waiting for him to try something with her. When he gets to her chest, I feel fingers move about, fighting the urge to ball my fist. I can literally see the discomfort on her part. She’s literally counting the seconds until he moves his hands anywhere else. I don’t know if he can tell that I’m willing to have my level 5 access revoked or if he senses the ardent apprehension radiating from her, but he keeps it short and professional. As soon as he’s done, she’s back by me, reaching for her book.

“Well, he was a meanie,” Candi comments as we wait for Pat to put the key in the panel right next to the elevator.

“Too touchy feely for my liking,” I reply loud enough so Pat can hear. He says nothing. Neither does Zaria. The rest of the elevator ride is in silence aside from Candi humming “Oops! I Did It Again.”

When we finally reach our floor, the three of us stand outside the elevator for our evaluation.

“Well, you ladies seemed to have done rather well today.” Pat smiles, the fat on his face parallel with the rolls that make up his neck. “If you’d like, we can try again next week.” I yawn, wishing that I could just walk away. I’d risk losing my clearance for Zaria or even Candi, but not myself.

Someone has to keep these two from extending their bid.

“Tomorrow the group outing is to the aquarium.” He smiles fondly like this is the best news we’ve heard all day. One glance to a somewhat excited Zaria makes me realize that for her, it probably is. “I think you all would have a fine time.”

“I wanna show off my new bra. I’m game.” Candi grabs her boobs, lifting them with a wink and a smile. “Nova?”

I can literally think of a million things that I’d rather do than spend a day at the aquarium, but one look at Zaria, and I know my decision has already been made for me.

“I guess a day with Happy Feet won’t be too bad.” What I want to say is it won’t kill me, but around here, there are just some words you want to try and avoid. Kill being one of them. It’s for good reason though.

Even I’m not too much of an as*hole to admit that.

✻ ✻ ✻ ✻ ✻ ✻ ✻ ✻

For dinner, we had chicken lasagna with mixed vegetables, garlic bread,  and apple pie for dessert. If it sounds magically delicious, you’re magically wrong.

The chicken was bland, the vegetables cold, and the garlic bread might have left me with some cracked teeth. The apple pie was decent, but nothing to brag about. I shouldn’t complain. Yesterday we had beef casserole.

Majority of my plate ended up in the trash.

“He was cute though, right?” Candi brushes through her hair, that dazed look in her eyes. That can only mean one thing. She’s already been given her nighttime dosage. “Of course he was. I only fu*k with the best.”

Zaria, fresh-faced, arms out and exposed in her short-sleeved shirt and blue Soffee shorts, offers a small laugh. “He must have been close to forty Candi.”

“And I thought you only liked ballers?” I wondered aloud from my position on Zaria’s bed. Next to me, she continues to admire the pictures in her book.

“Well, duh. I need a middleman to get to him.” She says like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, moving her shoulders from side to side, admiring her reflection. “I think my tits are getting bigger.”

“Your tits or your ego?”

She glares through the mirror and then pouts. “Boo, you whore.”

Zaria frowns. “You know I don’t like that word.”

“You don’t like anything, Zaria.” Candi rolls her eyes.

“Better than liking everything.” Zaria shoots back with a sly smile. I high five her, much to Candi’s chagrin. “If you catch my drift.”

“You guys are mean.” She stomps her feet and resumes brushing her hair.

When Zaria yawns, I realize her that her Clonezepam has already kicked in. Her lids are heavy, and she moves to put her book up.

“Uh oh. I think someone is sweepy.” She says in a baby voice and moves to pinch Zaria’s cheek, but Zaria swats her hand away. Candi laughs and sits on the bed, giving her a half hug. “Night, ladybug.” She kisses her cheek and brushes the top of her head.“You know I’m right down the hall if ya’ need me, sugar.”

“And I’m right next door,” I add on, lightly punching her on the arm. “Sleep tight, kid.”

“Thanks, guys.” She smiles gratefully, getting up at the same time we do so she can pull back the covers. She doesn’t even care that the horizontal lines on the inside of her thighs from not even two years ago are on full display. In the privacy of her room, even with Candi and I, Zaria is true to be herself.

We all are.

Candi yawns loudly with outstretched arms. “I’m wiped.”

“Doesn’t take much.” I chuckle, but hug her side. “Good night Candi Cane.”

She smiles brightly, her pearly whites distracting the small mole on the right side of her chin. “Night, babycakes.” I don’t even react as she squeezes my butt. I simply shake my head and walk over to my door.

I stop when I go to turn the handle, noticing the light peaking through the bottom of the door.

Smirking, I walk in and shut it behind me.

“Can I help you with something?”

He’s sitting on the green, faux leather chair in the corner of my room. I narrow my eyes, wishing that I could wipe that smug grin off his chiseled face. He leans forward, his green scrubs a contrast against his sun-kissed skin, the short sleeves clinging against solid muscle.

“I’m here for night check.”

I chuckle, purposely taking my time as I make my way over to him. “Well, I hate to be the one to break it to you Mr..,” I look over at the badge on his shirt. “Collins, but I have level 5 access. I don’t need a night check.” My body is jolted forward, my knees immediately separating so that I’m straddling him. “This is highly unprofessional and extremely inappropriate.” I moan as one hand goes to stroke my already hardened nipple and the other slips into my shorts.

He mimics my chuckle, satisfied when he feels the wetness already pooling from my core. “I’ve seen your records, Ms. Young.” He stands us up, his hand still in my shorts, teasingly running his finger up and down my folds. “Breaking rules is your specialty.”

I look down at him, his blue eyes holding nothing but pent up lust. Using my index finger, I run my finger down his cheek, parting his mouth and tugging on his bottom lip.

“Then what are you waiting for, Doctor?”

With a guttural growl, he throws me on the bed. I don’t think I need to tell you what happened next.

Two hours later, he’s long gone, and I’m out like a light.

Just another typical day at Lakeshore Mental Hospital.

[writingdreamdaddy]

It's good to see somebody else not over the hype, and I already love this blog. How about the dads catching dadsona singing? It can be good or bad singing, your choice 💞

Dadsona’s a fuckinrockstar my dude. Also sorry this took so long, i didn’t realize how busy i was and how poor my writing skills are. I don’t know if this was what you were looking for exactly but i hope its okay!

Robert—

               He wasnever one to make plans in advancement, he would just show up and you two woulddo something. That’s how it’s always been between you, it’s not like walkinginto your house unannounced was a new occurrence. Robert made the short stretchto your house across the cul-du-sac and looked at his phone with a yawn. It wasonly 10pm and he was already tired; you were a bad influence to his rebelliouslifestyle and sleep schedule. He opened your front door, expecting you to belounged on the couch watching Paranormal Ice Road Truckers like you always were, but you weren’t. The house was dark except for the fluorescent lights inthe kitchen. His investigation lead him to you in an old off white t-shirt and boxers, softly singing along with the quiet radio, cooking eggs in a pan. Robert leaned against thedoorway, listening and watching to you. You were no Jon Bon Jovi, but yourvoice was soothing and a little raspy. He would watch for a second, enjoyingyour “Shit I Burned the Eggs” version of “Livin’ on a Prayer”. Your singing would switch between actual singing, to playful swears directed toward the eggs singing, but itwas amazing in every way. You may have been in an entirely different key alltogether and laughed at your own mistakes and jokes, but to Robert you were arock star.

Matt –

               You twowere in his living room when you had convinced him to sing to you. He playedthe guitar, and you contributed to the jam session by tapping your foot. Hestarted to play and sing a slow song he had shown you awhile back. You didn’tknow all the words, but you remembered the chorus and quietly sang along withhim. At first Mat kept doing what he was doing, he would smile at you and eventually singa little quieter to listen to your voice. It was the fact that it was your voice that made it so special tohim. He’d heard millions of singers, some made his ears bleed, and others wereastonishing. But nothing was like yours. It was you, and that was all it took for it to be perfect. Your voices filled the quiet house andsteadily went along with the guitar. You’d back out and let Mat take the verse,but joined back in whenever the chorus hit. Mat didn’t want the song to end asquickly as it did, singing with you was something so great to him. It had beensuch a long time since he could experience music like this, even longer sincehe could experience it with someone else. You had brought back such animportant thing into his life, and it was in the way you sang. You wereclose to him, eyes shut, quietly singing along to whatever tune he’d start toplay. This was something that had been missing from his life since his wifepassed, and it was something he never thought he would get back. He neverthought music would feel the same again. But you changed that. It was a momenthe’d cherish, a moment he would remember. It wasn’t just you’re beautifulsinging, it was that you made Mat feel complete.

Joseph—

               Youwere both on the Yacht enjoying a night out. As the day passed and the sunbegan to set you two ran out of wine, so Joseph went inside to grab anotherbottle. It had been a lovely day with just the two of you talking up a storm,and it was his wildest dream come true. He and Mary were on peaceful terms, thekids were better than ever, and you were here letting him be who he was. You were here making his dayscomfortable and busy in the laziest way possible. He smiled to himself at thethought and grabbed the wine he was looking for. It was your favorite wine thathe personally thought was too sweet, but he didn’t care. When he stepped backout onto the deck, you were laying down on your lounge chair, resting youreyes. Your chair was positioned away from the door Joseph was in so that youcould face the sun, and you were softly singing a song he had never heardbefore. He stepped a little closer to get a better listen and just stood therefor a second. You weren’t belting out any rifts or showing off incrediblerange, it was just a simple slow and gentle song and Joseph took every word in.To him, you were already the most heavenly thing on the earth; your voice addedto that. Eventually he sat back down next to you. It startled you a little bitwhich caused you to open your eyes. You continued to sing but it in a much morejoking and over dramatic manner now that Joseph was there. You gave him acheeky smile while you sang your heart out with hand motions and everything,drowning out Joseph’s small laughter. Your singing got louder the more wine youdrank, and Joseph would join you every time you sang a Jimmy Buffett song. Youhad a beautiful voice even when you were mockingly singing, and it just addedto your charm if that was even possible. It was night time by the time your concertended and Joseph gave you an applause. He took your empty wine glass and helpedyou up since you were a little wobbly. You laughed yourself to sleep, andJoseph laid right beside you with admiration and a smile on his face. You wereeverything to him and he couldn’t thank you enough.

Hugo—

               Therewas a choir concert at the school. Hugo cared about all of his students andtheir passions so he made an effort to go to sport games, band and choirconcerts, and theater productions. It was inspiring to watch his kids enjoythese things because lord knows theyaren’t this involved in his class. This choir concert happened to fall on atrivia date night at the restaurant you and him went to all the time. He didn’twant to cancel on you, but he wanted to support the students. Luckily for him,he had the best boyfriend in the world who offered to go with him to theconcert. The concert was a little over an hour, so you two decided to getdinner afterwards. But on the way to the restaurant, you were quietly singing some of thesongs from the concert which earned you a look from Hugo. “What? Choir wasrequired in Junior High. And everyone knows that song.” You said with the same look beforecontinuing to show your amazing choral skills, giving Hugo “School Concert Part2” in the car. As pitchy and off key as you were purposely being, Hugo had asmile on his face. How he ever got so lucky to have you in his life is amystery he never wants solved.

Damien—

                No one in the cul-du-sac knew you performed atMat’s open mic nights except for, well Mat. It was only once in a blue moonthat you actually did, but you were definitely a crowd favorite. Damien andHugo have had crazy schedules lately, so they didn’t get to see open mic nearlyas much as they used to. Word traveled around though about you performing.Damien didn’t believe it at first, but the idea of going to open mic couldn’tleave his mind. He missed going. Hugo had papers he needed to grade, Mary andRobert were at the bar, so he went by himself. When you really did get on stagehe was shocked. But when you started singing, he was blow away. You had sung before in the car with him, but he hadnever heard you sing like this. Youwere so in your element. You weren’t singing along with Bruce Springsteen, youwere up there by yourself, and Damien didn’t think there was a sweeter sound inthe world. It wasn’t a ‘sitting in a coffee shop at night with an open mic’sweet, it was like Lucien saying his first word when he was a baby, or thefirst time you said you loved him. It was the look on your face, and seeing thepeople adore you almost as much as he did. He loved you more than any words hecould string together in a poem could express. Hearing you sing was the mostbeautiful sound in the world to him, and he would do everything from that nightforward to get you to sing like that again.

Craig—

               “Dude Ifound your old band mix.” Craig said before poppin’ that baby in the recordplayer. You didn’t have time to protest before your beautiful Ska vocals filledthe room. Craig may have been standing there looking down at you with his mouthopen in disbelief and eyebrows furrowed in sadness, but damnit, you were good. You still knew the lyrics to thesong playing so you started to sing along. You got up from your spot on thecouch and walked over to Craig while singing to your old garage band recordtape. Grabbing his hands and forcing his disappointed body to dance with you.Halfway through the song Craig cracked a small smile at your antics. Yoursinging was awful, the lyrics were awful, and he was mad at himself forthinking you were cool in college for being in this band. But he loved you. Goddid he love you so much. So that made the singing bearable.

Brian—

               Youcouldn’t get a stupid commercial jingle out of your friggin head and you sangit ALL day and now it’s stuck in HIS head. So he doesn’t like your singing.

[ladyseaheart1668]

Endless Summer Book 4: Daughter of Vaanu (Chapter 2)

Description: Alodia has returned from wherever she’s been. But celebrations may be premature.

CW: Strong language. Just take that as assumed. 

Chapter 2: The Long Night

Aleister

For a pregnant moment, the only sound is my son, wailing with irritation at having been awakened. Grace instinctively puts her arms around him and bounces from side to side, stroking his back, but even she isn't taking her eyes off Alodia.

“Alodia!” Jake breaks the stunned silence, dropping his glass and racing to take his wife in his arms, sinking to his knees with her tangled in his embrace. Alodia holds him back, pressing her face into his shoulder. Jake's whole body spasms with sobs. The rest of us start to edge closer to the treeline as Jake pulls back to press his mouth to hers, tears streaming down his face. “Alodia...Princess...are you real? Are you here? Please be real...”

“I'm here,” she murmurs back. “I think I'm real...”

“...Holy shit!” Craig finally exclaims. “It worked!”

A part of me can't believe that after five years, anything that comes out of Craig's mouth could be absurd enough to stop me in my tracks, but somehow he keeps finding ways to top himself.

“What in the heavens are you talking about?!”

“Alodia's back, dude! Five years we've been doing this voodoo, and it's finally paid off!”

“Wha...voodoo?! For heavens' sake, it was a ritual of remembrance! A way to honor our old friend, not ressurrect her!”

“I dunno,” Zahra murmurs. “I'm looking at pretty convincing evidence that it might have been a little more than that.”

“I think I'm with Zahra on this,” Quinn agrees.

“Do you honestly believe we've been unknowingly casting magic spells for the last five years?! Why would it suddenly work now?!”

“Aleister, shut up!” My head snaps towards Diego, who is kneeling beside Jake and Alodia, stroking the back of her head tenderly. Something in his voice makes any desire to snap back at him wither. He turns his attention back on Alodia. “...Allie? Are you okay?”

Alodia peers over Jake's shoulder, casting her eyes over her surroundings. She spots the manorhouse on the hill. “Are...are we on Sharktooth Isle?”

“No...we're on the main island...The Celestial...” he trails off. “...Wait...what's the last thing you remember?”

“Th...the last thing I really vividly remember is being on The Celestial's rooftop. I touched the crystal to let Vaanu take me back. ...It...all gets a little fuzzy after that...”

We're all silent for a moment. Then Raj pipes up. “Hey, why don't we go inside and see what's left over from the feast. We can bring you up to speed while you eat.”

Alodia offers us a shaky smile. “I...think I'd like that...” She yelps a little as Jake shifts, wrapping his arm over her shoulder and lifting her up in a bridal carry. “Woah! Jake, I'm pretty sure I can walk...”

“Princess, if you think I'm ever letting you go again, you're nuts.” Alodia doesn't reply, but the way she winds her other arm around his neck strikes me as consent. We all start to file toward the manorhouse. Estela hesitates as we pass the pool bar, where the twelfth cocktail is waiting. I pause, watching my half-sister as she studies the glass. Finally, she plucks it off the counter, marches down the beach and dumps it into the sea.

“What was that about?” I ask softly as she returns.

“It's what we do every year,” she murmurs back. “...Call me superstitious, but with Alodia standing in front of us, it feels like bad luck not to complete the ritual.”

“Do you really think--”

“I don't know what to think, Aleister. I didn't think this island had anything left for us but sad memories. If there's still any magic at all left here...if it's enough to really bring her back...”

“...If there is any magic left, we shouldn't tempt it. ...Perhaps you are right.” She nods, and we silently pick up the pace, catching up with the others.

At least whatever has happened to her over these past five years does not seem to have damaged Alodia's appetite. We get her into the manorhouse and Raj fixes her a plate of leftovers, which she immediately tears into like she hasn't seen a morsel in days. I doubt she even tastes it. Jake and Diego stay close on either side of her, passing glances between them. Jake's arm stays firmly draped over her shoulder. Ocassionally, Diego glances over at me and Grace.

When Alodia starts to slow down a little, I clear my throat. “...I am sure you must have questions about now...”

Alodia pauses, a forkful of citrus jasmine rice halfway to her mouth. She lowers her hand. “I'm sure all of you do, too. ...I'm sure a lot of our questions are the same.” She pauses for a moment. “What year is it?”

“2023. Five years since we left La Huerta. It was January of 2018 when we got back to the United States. ...My father was arrested and convicted of kidnapping as well as several counts of murder and attempted murder. He is currently living in a hospital for the criminally insane. By some miracle, which I suspect Iris had a hand in, Estela and I were named as joint heirs in his will. We each own half of Rourke International, and the whole of La Huerta. ...It's officially a private nature sanctuary now. The Vaanti are left in peace, and the eleven of us have come here every summer since you left us.”

“...Then...the Vaanti survived...?”

“Varyyn abdicated his throne,” Diego adds. “Seraxa is the elyyshar now. ...Varyyn is living with me in London. But yeah, in general, the Vaanti are thriving. ...Though we haven't seen hide nor hair of the Anachronists in five years...”

Alodia's hand finds Jake. “...What about Mike...?”

I see Jake's fingers tighten around her hand. “...He's alive, Princess. We found him Stateside. ...Lundgren, too. But we beat him. He's locked up for good.”

Her free hand flies to her mouth, tears gathering in her eyes. “...I can't believe I managed that...I didn't know if I would be able to...I was basically begging Vaanu to turn back that moment...”

“...Guess that explains why Lundgren got brought back, too,” he murmurs with a rueful smile. “I ain't complaining, long as I got Mike back...”

A tense silence settles over the table. There is a proverbial elephant in the room, the one big question that no one dares to ask, because we somehow know that Alodia will not have an answer for us: how did she get here? And then the follow-up question to that one, whose answer I dread: is she back to stay, or will we lose her again?

It's Zahra who finally braves the unknown. “...Okay, so...you don't remember any of where you've been for the last five years?”

“...I wasn't even sure how much time had passed,” Alodia answers. “I only knew that time had passed at all because you all look different enough that I knew it wasn't the same night I left. ...Plus Grace has a baby strapped to her chest...”

“Oh!” Grace exclaims. “Goodness, you haven't even met Reginald...”

“...Not officially. But I've seen him. In one of the visions Vaanu gave me.”

Diego sighs. “...Jake...I think this might be a good time to tell everyone what's been happening since the Prism Gate incident. And...” he glances at me and Grace in turn. “...it might be time to talk about the Prism Gate incident in general.”

“...Ohhh...” Raj winces. “...Did you guys see that, too?”

“I did,” Craig confirms. “And Z. We...figured it would come up here tonight.”

“Wait...so did everyone see the same thing we saw?” Diego looks around the table. All around, nodding heads confirm it. Alodia slowly raises her hand.

“...Um...I didn't...”

I run a hand through my hair, exhaling nervously. Slowly, I explain about my father's rivalry with Silas Prescott, and Prescott's crystalline-powered project called the Prism Gate, and its failure on the night of its unveiling. ...I slowly fold in my suspicions about the crystal's origins. Alodia watches me silently, her expression unreadable, which is more than a little unnerving. In all the time I knew her, she was never guarded with her emotions. I realize in retrospect that because we needed her to be warm and open then, that was who she became. But the thought of her being different from the girl we knew then scares me.

“...But that doesn't make sense,” Raj points out. “After Alodia merged with Vaanu, the crystals disappeared.”

“The crystals on the island disappeared. Silas Prescott said in his speech that he and his wife discovered the crystal on an expedition twenty-five years ago. And people were coming and going from the resort here well before the eruption...”

“...The island itself existed for millions of years,” Alodia confirms softly. “...I may not have come into being until the eleven of you entered the time bubble, but the island was here.”

“Right. I don't know how much power such a crystal would have outside the island, but evidently, it has enough to cause quite an explosion...”

“...And you think that's the reason Alodia was able to come back?” Michelle asks.

“I don't know.”

“Is she going to stay back?” Sean adds. “...Or is Vaanu basically broken again?”

“Surely you don't think I know the answer to that,” I answer irritably.

“No, I don't, Aleister. ...But it's a question someone needed to ask aloud. We're all thinking it.”

Silence settles over the table again, heavy with dread. Diego finally speaks again. “Look...Jake and I have some news. We were waiting for the right moment to share it. And I don't think we're going to find a better one.”

With obvious reluctance, he stands and retreats from the room. He returns a few minutes later with an old shoebox in hand.

“What is that?” Alodia asks.

“...It's...mementoes from my past. ...From...our past, Allie. I was watching the Prism Gate coverage from my parents' place in Riverside. Over the next few days...things started appearing that shouldn't have existed. ...Evidence of the past we built up for you before the cycle was broken. Our childhood in Riverside together.”

Jake rubs a hand over his face. “...There's...there's also a missing persons report. On you, Princess. It's a cold case. Five years old. Alodia Chandler, disappeared the summer before her senior year at Hartfeld University. My sister's a cop in LA, and she says she found it cleaning out the cold cases. ...I never told her what happened to you, but I did let her know I'd been married to a woman named Alodia...”

No one speaks for a moment. Diego puts the box down on the table in front of us and lifts the lid. One by one, he lifts out pieces of evidence. Pictures of the two of them as children. At their senior prom. A newspaper clipping about a junior gymnastics team, complete with a photo of Alodia and four other small, slim girls holding up medals and grinning into the camera. A friendship bracelet of silky woven threads. A birthday card.

“...The big thing for me is that I can remember growing up with you in Riverside,” Diego says softly. “...And I can remember growing up without you. ...I remember the small disaster that was our senior prom, and I can remember spending my senior prom at home alone...”

Alodia's placid facade starts to crack. With shaking hands, she reaches across the table and pulls the birthday card toward her, opening it carefully. Her mouth twists a little as she starts to read aloud.

“...'Happy 18th Birthday to my favorite dork. Hope it's more fun than a laser battle in space with pirates and dinosaurs. May the force be with you. Love, Allie'...”  

Her voice breaks, catching in her throat. She takes a breath, then another, then promptly dissolves into tears. Jake pulls her into his arms.

“You're okay, Princess. You're gonna be okay.”

He can't know that. But I don't believe I should say that in front of her. Not when she is clinging to Jake as if he is anchoring her to existence, trembling so violently that I can feel the vibrations through the table between us.

I find Grace's hand and grip it, perhaps just a little too tightly, but she doesn't complain. She squeezes back. I glance over and see that tears are slipping down her dark cheeks as well. Quinn and Raj have also given in to the flood of emotion filling the dining room. It feels strangely like grief, even though the very person we're grieving is sitting right in front of us. Then, so abruptly that I don't even register it at first, the mood shifts from heavy sorrow to urgency and alarm. Michelle's eyes go wide.

“Jake, let her go.”

Jake hasn't felt the shift yet. He grips his wife tighter. “I ain't letting her go.”

“Jake, she's about to hyperventilate! Get off her!” She leaps up, running around to the other side of the table as Jake pulls back sharply. Alodia, her breath coming in shallow, violent gasps, abruptly pitches forward, crumpling to the floor.

“Alodia!” Jake cries, barely managing to break her fall. Diego drops down beside her, and Michelle kneels at her other side.

“All right, everyone except Jake and Diego out!” she orders. “Give her some space, please!”

“You heard the doctor.” Estela takes Quinn gently by the shoulders, leading her out. “Come on, everyone.”

We reluctantly trickle out of the dining room, gathering in a crowd just outside. A scream from Alodia follows us out. We collectively grimace. The agony in her voice is unmistakable.

“...Dammit,” Estela growls. “What the hell is happening?”

No one answers. What could we say? It isn't as if we have any idea. For all I know, Craig was right, and our little ritual of remembrance was indeed some sort of magic spell we were weaving without our knowledge. Or...more likely, it has to do with Silas Prescott's Prism Gate. It was after the Prism Gate incident that Diego started to find evidence of her existence before the island.

Another cry of agony goes through us like a knife. Quinn chokes, pressing a hand to her mouth. Of course, Reginald starts to wail again. Grace sighs. “I...should feed him...” She looks hesitantly at the door to the dining room. I shake my head.

“I don't think anyone will flinch if you feed him here,” I murmur. She nods, and sits down against the wall, opening her blouse. I sit down beside her while she exposes her breast and guides our son to latch on. In spite of the fearful sounds coming from the dining room, he settles down, suckling contentedly, his tiny fingertips working the fabric of his mother's blouse. I scoot closer to my wife, stroking my son's head, capped with a dark layer of fuzzy hair. ...Would he exist without the woman screaming in the next room?

The dining room doors burst open. Jake emerges with Alodia cradled in his arms, Diego and Michelle close behind. Sean catches Michelle's arm as she passes.

“What's happening? What's wrong with her?”

“I don't know, Sean,” she answers grimly. “Right now, though, she's in a lot of pain, and all I think any of us can do is help her ride it out. ...I'm going to get my med kit. I don't know if I dare to give her anything, but I need to keep an eye on her vitals.”

Sean reluctantly lets her go as Jake and Diego disappear into Jake's room. Eight Catalysts are left fearful and bewildered in their wake. Eventually, it seems there is nothing else to do but drift back to our rooms and try to sleep.

* * *

I sleep for an hour or two, and I think Grace does, too. But when I wake again, around two in the morning, she is standing over Reggie's crib, peering down at him. I come up behind her, winding my arms around her waist. She leans back into me.

“...Do you think she's going to be okay?” she asks me.

“I don't know,” I admit. “...I suppose it depends on what we would consider okay...”

“...I'm not sure...”

“If she rejoins with Vaanu and disappears again in the morning, does that make her okay?”

“...I don't know. ...But I know it would make Jake...not okay...”

That gives me pause. “...He has not been doing well. I know Diego said as much, but actually seeing it...”

“What will happen to him if she does disappear again?”

“...We'll take care of him. All of us. For her sake, we'll take better care of him than we have been.” I kiss her cheek. “...Do you want to look in on her?”

“We probably shouldn't leave Reggie alone...”

“He's asleep. And we can turn on the baby monitor.” I reach over to flip the switch on the monitor clipped to the edge of the crib. The light turns green. I pick up the other and gently lead Grace away from our room towards Jake's.

The lights in his room are dimmed, but not off. Jake and Diego lie still on the double bed, Alodia sandwiched between them with her face pressed into Jake's chest. The two men have their arms draped over her and each other. Sean sits on the floor, leaning against the wall. Michelle is curled up with her head on his lap, a throw blanket draped over her shoulders. He rolls his head towards us as we enter, bringing a hand up to rub his eyes.

“Hey...” he mumbles.

“...She's still here?” Grace asks.

“Yeah. She's still here. And she's sleeping, sort of...” Before I can clarify his meaning, Alodia twitches on the bed, whimpering. Jake and Diego both startle awake and immediately set to quieting her, whispering comfortingly and stroking her hair. It puts me in mind of the first time Reggie got sick, when Grace and I kept vigil through the night with our son on the bed between us. After a moment, she stills. Diego glances up at us, nodding briefly in acknowlegment of our presence. Jake doesn't take his eyes off his wife.

Sean sighs. “...I think the pain has eased a little, anyway. Michelle thinks she's still in distress, though. But her vitals are strong.”

“She is still in distress,” Diego mutters. “That's clear from here. ...Goddammit, I wish I knew what was happening. I just feel so helpless...”

“Perhaps a few of us should travel ahead to Elyys'tel in the morning,” I suggest. “Let the Vaanti know what's happening. At least Varyyn ought to know. If she's still struggling a few days from now, it will be difficult to travel...”

“...I don't want him to worry,” Diego concedes.

“Yeah,” Jake sighs. “...Can't have that.”

“...Sean?” Grace asks. “What are you thinking?” I look over at Sean, whose brow is wrinkled with concentration. He appears to be studying intently the socked foot stretched in front of him.

“...Diego...you were saying you have memories of her before the island? ...That they just recently started coming to you?”

“Yeah. After the Prism Gate thing. ...Why?”

“...Because one just came to me. ...Sophomore year at Hartfeld. Second game of the year. The dance team was selling hot dogs and bratwurst at the game. I saw her while I was warming up. She was showing off some gymnastics moves. Using the bleacher as a balance beam.”

“...She was in our European History class...” Grace murmurs. “The one we had together, Sean. With Professor Franco. She got into that argument with him over whether Lady Jane Grey should really be considered an English Queen.”

As they are speaking, a memory drifts to the surface of my mind. A blonde-haired young woman in the campus coffee shop, sipping from a paper cup with a cardboard sleeve while pouring over a history textbook...entering the library a few yards ahead of me and pausing to hold the door open...chatting with Diego on the tarmac outside Jake's plane as we prepared to board in Costa Rica...

“...She was there in Costa Rica,” I murmur. “When we boarded the plane for La Huerta.”

Jake's breath shudders. “Oh, God...Goddamn...I saw her boarding pass...I checked her passport...” Alodia suddenly goes rigid, crying out. Jake sits up sharply, taking her hand. “I'm here, Princess. Just hang on. Everything's gonna be okay.”

Michelle sits up blearily, pushing the blanket off her shoulders and fumbling for her med kit. I'm not sure if she realizes that Grace and I are here before she's stumbled over to the bed and begun examining her patient. Sean sighs.

“She's been doing that all night.” He shakes his head bemusedly. “She doesn't even flinch. She accuses me of pushing myself too hard on the field, but an intern's hours make my job look cushy, even factoring in the risk of head injury.”

“...It's been a long night already,” I murmur. “And I think it's only going to get longer.”

Jake

In spite of Aleister's prediction, Alodia seems to finally fall into a restful sleep not long after three in the morning. Diego drops off not long after, still spooning his best friend from behind while I cradle her head against my chest. I don't get much sleep myself. I'm too scared that she'll disappear the moment I close my eyes. That this is all some cruel dream. I have dreams like this sometimes. The first year or two after La Huerta, I had them a couple times a week. I'd be walking on a beach on the island and she would appear in front of me, tell me how much she loved me, how much she missed me. We would make love and lie together in the afterglow, and she would slowly slip away as my traitor brain forced me to wake up and face reality.

...The others were never with us in those dreams. And she was never suffering, never in pain like she has been all night. But that's not much of a comfort, even if it does seem like evidence that she's real. About the time the sky starts to turn gray with the early light of dawn, exhaustion wins out, and I drop off.

The next thing I am aware of is a hand gently stroking my hair. Followed quickly by the fact that my arms are empty. I gasp sharply, my eyes flying to the face above me. Alodia, seated on the edge of the bed beside me, gazes down at me as she runs her fingers through my hair. She puts the index finger of her free hand to her lips and bends to brush my mouth with hers. She nods at my left. I turn my head to see Diego, huddled on the other side of the bed. She gestures with her head to the balcony, taking my hand and standing. I rise slowly, letting her draw me over.

We've barely made it out to the balcony and shut the sliding door behind us before need overtakes me and I pull her into my arms, kissing her hungrily. She winds her arms around my neck, kissing back. She tastes just how I remember her, fits in my arms so perfectly. The sparks that fly between us, the way the earth shifts under our feet, the fiery heat of our bodies together is intensely familiar. We're both breathless when we break apart, pressing our foreheads together.

“...Five years, and you still kiss me like it's our wedding day.”

“There's five years' worth of missing you in that kiss, Princess.”

“...I haven't been replaced, then?”

“No one could replace you. Ever. I won't claim I've been celibate, or that I haven't loved anyone I've taken to bed. But none of them could hold a candle to you. No one made me think I could stop running like you did. And ain't a one of them loved me back as much as you did.”

“...I almost can't believe you still love me after everything...”

“What do you mean by everything?”

“...Everything I did...”

“You mean saving the fucking world?”

“...I left you.”

“Because you were saving the fucking world.”

She smiles weakly, but it doesn't last. “...No one has really smiled since I turned up here.”

“Yeah, well, we were all kinda shocked at first. And scared you were gonna vanish. Then you started screaming in pain and that didn't exactly put anyone in the mood to tell knock-knock jokes...”

“Did I scare you?”

“Did it scare me to see the woman I haven't stopped loving in five years screaming and crying in pain for hours when I couldn't do anything but try to help her ride it out?”

“...Ask a stupid question, I guess.”

I feel the first ghost of a smile on my lips. I reach up to cup the side of her face in one hand. “At least you seem better this morning.” I sigh. “...I admit, I ain't had the easiest time of it since I lost you. We'd just got married. We were supposed to have our whole lives together. And then just like that...nothing.”

“...There was just no way to have it all, Jake.  Letting Project Janus go ahead would have remade the world in Rourke's image. I could have stayed here with you and the others forever, but that would have meant letting the world burn. ...The eleven of you mean everything to me. ...And the price for giving you all everything you deserved was losing myself.”

“...But...now you're here...” I let the question hang unspoken in the air. She is quiet for a very long time. I don't let go of her for a moment. When she speaks again, her voice is low and husky with emotion.

“...I made the choice that I thought was right because all of you deserved everything. I put on a brave face because I didn't want any of you thinking I was doing something I didn't want to do out of fear or panic. ...But don't think for a second that I wasn't fucking furious. It was right, but it wasn't goddamn fair. ...I wanted to exist. I wanted to stay with all of you. I wanted the life that had been imagined for me, and I wanted to have it all without giving up the world. ...I wanted our little cottage by the sea, maybe a few of your kids if you were game. I wanted to look in the mirror one day and see the Endless staring back at me with a wrinkled and balding Jake McKenzie beside me.”

“I'd wince at the image, but it's what I wanted, too. These last five years, I've pictured us slowly growing old together. I wanted to hug you to my beer gut and tell you that you were beautiful while you fretted over every wrinkle and every gray hair. Every liver spot...” I grin a little and tap her chin. “Every hair sprouting where you didn't want it to...”

She laughs. “Never has chin hair sounded so romantic.”

“There'd be hot flashes, digestive distress, hemorroids, flatulence...”

“Don't push it, Top Gun.”

I chuckle, but it quickly dies in my throat. “...I don't think you realize how badly I wanted it. I'd take all the gas and backaches just to have you beside me again.”

“...I gave my energy back to Vaanu so that it could finally leave Earth. ...But after all that time, living as myself, living as the Endless, loving all of you, being loved back by all of you, needing you and being needed by you...I was too much of my own person to fully merge with Vaanu. Trying to take me back with it was like...trying to but a baby back in the womb once they've been born. We broke apart not long after leaving. That is...Vaanu released the part of our consciousness that had become Alodia. I...didn't have a body per se...but my consciousness was always reaching back to the earth. To all of you. ...I couldn't fully get back right away, though. Then...suddenly...I felt energy. The same kind of energy that had willed me into being in the first place. The next thing I knew, I was falling...and then I was here. On La Huerta, and all of you were gathered around a bonfire. And...now I have memories of an entire childhood spent in Riverside, growing up beside Diego, doing gymnastics and dance, majoring in history at Hartfeld...getting trapped on La Huerta...That's why I was in that state last night. ...All those memories rushing back was kind of overwhelming, and...it hurt. A lot.”

“Thank god it's over. But...Alodia...” I take her face in my hands. “...Does this mean you're back? For good?”

She bites her lip. “I...think so...? I mean, I know Aleister was talking about the Prism Gate thing, and if it really is powered by one La Huerta's crystals, then it seems like a pretty safe bet that's what brought me back. If what I remember from being merged with Vaanu is correct, that crystal will still have a great deal of power, enough to do some damage if it's used incorrectly. But nothing on the level of the Island's Heart or Vaanu itself. ...And I don't think that any amount of damage it could to would be undone if I merged with it. I'm not even sure that I could.” She smiles at me. There's something a little anxious in her smile, but it doesn't seem forced. “...As far as I can tell, Top Gun, you're stuck with me.”

Tears seem appropriate right now. I can feel them in my chest and my throat as I grab hold of her and pull her close. But instead, I find myself laughing. I clutch her in my arms and rock her joyfully, laughing like a madman.

“Princess, you crazy fucking miracle. Goddamn, I shoulda known you'd fight your way back if you had half a chance.”

“I love you, Jake. I love you so much.” We pull back and our lips meet in a wild frenzy, everything we've stored up over five years of separation, grief, anger, heartache, and longing turning to desire. She bites at my earlobe, her voice husky as she whispers, “I want you...”

I reluctantly pull back, just enough to press my forehead to hers. “I want you, too. ...But why don't we get the others up to speed? Way you were last night, there's no way anyone's gonna give us any privacy before they know you're okay.”

She laughs. “Right now, they could watch for all I care. ...But you're right. And I do want to see them again now that my head's on straight. I've got five years to catch up on.”

[emilywatchescursedshow]

S1 E17 - Hell House

Director: Chris Long Writers: Eric Kripke, Trey Callaway

Well. Time to do some day drinking and spn liveblogging. Not in a mood to do deep dives on any of these episodes, so these will probably just be quick notes.

Oh god I’m watching this during the day and this first shot is so dark I can’t fucking see anything

Oh I wolud live in that house, looks like a good fixer upper

I like this lady’s jacket

Whoever wrote the line “any other parts I can hold” needs to be strangled to death Kripke

Creepy symbol

I can’t fucking see anything. Time to put subtitles on

This is literally the same shelf with pots on it set they used in the humans hunting humans episode with pickled brains

What is it? I bet it’s something scary...

Oh that was the flashback? I thought something more,,, death inducing would happen. Also sign to tell us we’re in Texas

What the fuck is that prank supposed to be Dean. Oh God is this the prank war episode I’ve seen so much about on this stupid site?

“A pretty misogynistic spirit”

The car driving green screen effects are still not great but they’re better when the projector was literally scrolling over their faces

“Most of those websites wouldn’t know a ghost if it bit them in the pursqueeter.” Whoever wrote that line and made my boy Dean say it out loud is probably the same person who wrote “any other parts I can hold”

We’re really just pulling this “find dad” myth arc along by its coats strings huh

Oh my god these interview shots are amazing: the framing, the cuts, the pacing, v good

Short king alert

Dean with his collar popped and constantly trying not to laugh oh nooooo oh noooo don’t look at the records and squint your eyebrows...

If this monster is just another “there’s some guy who’s a ghost”......

Wow fuck these guys i would live in this house in a heartbeat. Also is this what winter in Texas looks like?

Candles... so this is a sex party house.

Dean making fun of Sam for being too nerdy abt sigils seems out of character.

How would Sam have any idea whether that paint is fresh

OH MY GOD I HAD TO PAUSE THE EPISODE BC I LITERALLY JUST REALIZED THAT MY THOUGHTS ABT DEAN WINCHESTER ARE JUST THAT POST ABOUT HOWL’S MOVING CASTLE “HE LITERALLY IS WEARING EARRINGS” EXCEPT WITH DEAN’S NECKLACE LMAO time to go get more liquor

Oh they come across some video taper idiots - paranormal investigators. These guys are having fun in these roles but they remind me too much of certain characters from Buffy for me to like them.

Sam’s little silent “ooh” was actually really good in that scene.

Jarp’s jacket does not fit him and Dean put your fucking collar down you look like a moron.

OH I UNDERSTAND this episode is about Sam being more committed to the hunting life and being with his brother after he wanted his dad to stick around. Meanwhile Dean is stuck being a little inconsistently characterized while being completely right that the Spanish music casset was barely a prank

Oh God they’re gonna kill this WOC to further the episode plot huh. Also so many people are in this house im surprised there’s not someone outside selling popcorn

Ok i’m a little unclear as to whether active killings were continuing at the house but also sending you’re friend on a dare into a shitty murder house is uh, bad maybe

We love creepy jar set

Gross rats

I guess if it’s dudes intruding the ghost just wants to destroy his own house with an axe.

“Sweet lord of the rings” why do so many of these lines suck so bad

Wait so they just changed the story halfway through??? Wtf is going on

Back to the record store to visit our short king.

I ship Dean and Craig. OH MY GOD WHY THE FUCK IS BLUE OYSTER CULT THE BAND THEY PICKED

“From Dana’s theology textbooks” uh sure

So they haunted the house themselves. And then S&D just fuck off ok cool way to leave that guy having the worst day of his life.

Oh I see this scene exists so that we can see jarp in a towel. I think this is the horniest shower draping I have seen on a tv show ever.

Oh wow we love the interaction between tech and the supernatural

Jarp having to act like there’s pepper in his boxers is the best acting I’ve ever seen him do. They might have just put pepper in his boxers IRL

Why do we keep having these characters. JESUS CHRIST “WHAT WOULD BUFFY DO” ????????? ARE THEY NOT EVEN PRETENDING AT THIS POINT?????? They really just saw Buffy S6 and were like “this is cool” and not “hey this part sucks”

This scene is a fucking mess. “We got it at the library.”

Dean is not the one to talk about being too tense.

Dean looking at the beer bottle stuck to his hand like “hm I wonder what I could use this for” while Sam has some of the least convincing laughter possible

Ok I don’t understand what’s supposed to be happening in this episode anymore.

“I barely have any skin left on my palm.” “I’m not touching that line with a 10-foot pole.” WHO IS WRITING THIS EPISODE??????????

The shot composition of this scene is really good.

Why the fuck are these guys in the episode so much.

Dean can open the door with his hand that has no skin.

This guy was so excited to kill the one girl and now he can’t commit to killing two dweebs I hate this monster is lame.

Oh we love arson.

No you should kill the assholes running the website who served no purpose.

“Kinda makes you wonder... of all the things we’ve hunted, how many existed just because people believed in them” OH MY FUCKING GOD KRIPKE

Sam definitely is way too into D&D. I know these guys are being made fun of like textually but they’re getting way too much screen time for this to be a joke.

Oh man what a terrible episode. Except for that one bit with the interview scenes that bit was good.

[blame-canada]

II. Dinosaurs and Race Cars - Kyvid

The concept of David Rodriguez was one that Kyle had a very hard time understanding. It was, after all, hard to think when the very essence of a person was enough to drown out rational thought and basic comprehension. Also he had very, very nice arms.

Hi guys! Here we are with part two to this saga that will be full of the sweet, sweet kyvid content that the world so desperately needs. I, on a deeply personal level, feel I must provide for my rarepair, and so here I am, throwing cliches into the wind and hoping they stick (at least to somebody). Regardless, I hope you enjoy it! Tagging @mcnuggyy and @valzilla as my endless fountains of support and headcanons- y’all the real ones.

Part I

II.

“I’m gonna do it.”

“Kyle, dude,” Stan said, exasperated in every sense of the word, “you’ve been repeating that all fucking day. Are you gonna do it or not?”

“Yes, I’m gonna do it!” Kyle whisper-yelled, and he shrunk into his locker door as Stan’s gaze sized him up. “Just, like. In a minute. Next period.”

“Next period was two weeks ago,” he deadpanned. Then he gripped Kyle by the shoulders and whirled him around, and Kyle sputtered his anger out in incoherent noises of distress until Stan’s hand shot out from behind his shoulder to point straight ahead, to a locker that he knew embarrassingly by heart. “It’s so far past next period it’s stupid. Fucking go, Kyle, Jesus.”

Kyle’s hands met against his chest, his nerves exploding so violently he feared a seizure. He was right there, swinging his locker door open with his backpack slung over only one shoulder, halfway through pulling it off his back. His hair looked freshly cut from here, which did not bode well for Kyle. “God, what am I doing?” he moaned, and Stan gave him a decent push right in the middle of his back to force him out from behind his locker door and properly into the hallway.

“Making a fool of yourself. Go,” he hissed, and Kyle gulped down the nervous lump in his throat, nodding slightly. Next period really may as well have been two weeks ago. With a big breath, as though diving into the ocean, he surged forward in the most confident wide-stepped stride he could muster to try to pump himself up. It didn’t really matter, however, because David managed to catch him so off guard he deflated and nearly stumbled when he swiveled on one heel to face the hall.

Kyle’s heart leapt to his throat, and when David caught his eyes and smiled at him, his stomach grew flowers, the roots of them tickling and infiltrating his organs so violently he felt like he might be sick. At the same time, the glow of his familiar face left him awash with unusual calm, like a sedative with a laundry list of nasty lovestruck side effects that were somehow still worth it. In that moment, as David took one step forward to get close enough to talk over the crashing of locker doors slamming shut, all Kyle could think was,

‘Oh, god, I do love him.’

“My raptor friend,” David began, the smile audible in his tone, and Kyle wanted simultaneously to die and jump for joy at such an embarrassing nickname, “come to finish the hunt?”

Kyle giggled, honest to god giggled, before he cleared his throat and returned to his game face. “I, uh, wanted to make up for that.”

“Why? It was funny,” he said, and he chuckled himself, the sound so melodic and warm it could’ve brought him to his knees. “Plus the faces you make when I call you that are cute.”

Oh, Kyle could die. Die right there, in the middle of South Park High, at the ripe old age of seventeen, in front of a boy who could rule the world with one flash of his charming grin. He called him cute.

David leaned one hip against his locker and crossed his arms, and Kyle was stunned, transfixed by how his body moved with such finesse. “I actually had a question for you, if you had a minute..?” David said, and Kyle stood up straight, knowing full well that he would do fucking anything for him.

“Yeah, anything,” Kyle confirmed, perhaps too eagerly, because David’s smile turned the slightest bit devilish, and Kyle felt so caught in the act he considered ‘raptoring’ out all over again. In defiance of instinct, he glued his feet in place, determined.

David ran a hand through his perfectly newly-clipped hair, and Kyle could've sworn he looked nervous. “I was wondering if you would, ah,” he faltered, averting his gaze to the left and rubbing at the back of his neck, and Kyle had to try very hard not to stare at his arms as his muscles performed the elementary task. It looked anything but elementary, though; god, why was he wearing a short sleeved shirt in this weather? Shouldn’t he have his arms covered like a normal person? Any decent human being would know just how threatening it was to the student body to have his arms just exposed, like some sort of horrible tease that Kyle didn’t know how to talk to.

A deft hand snapped its fingers just beside Kyle’s left eye and it startled him back to Earth, to a grin that had definitely become devilish by now. “Back to the land of the living?” he teased, his sculpted brows quirked, and Kyle felt like dying all over again.

“Yeah, I, uh,” he fumbled, laughing nervously and clearing his throat like a schoolgirl in a goddamn rom-com, “yeah. Sorry, dude.”

David shrugged. “S’fine. Sound good, though?” he asked, but his face was uncharacteristically shy. Uncharacteristic, because David did and got what he wanted, and it was hot as hell.

“Yeah, yeah. Good!” Kyle said, a complete knee-jerk response, because his face heated up at the slow realization that he actually had absolutely no idea what David had said. Curse his beautiful arms, and that ridiculous, tantalizing v-neck—

“Alright, great! See you after school,” he said, and Kyle felt extremely grateful that David chose that moment to smile warmly at him and turn the other direction to go to class, because he was certain his face could light a match. What was after school? Oh god, what was after school?

Before David turned the corner, Craig Tucker, of all people, appeared to give him an unenthused high-five. Kyle knew they were kind of friends, but not high-five-level friends. Then, as though he could sense his thoughts, Craig looked over his shoulder and made direct eye contact with him. His face was just as flat and unyielding as always, and his eyes were so painfully scrutinizing he felt banished to Hell where he stood. What had he done? What had he signed up for?

A hand landed on his back and he jumped, twisting to find Stan looking at him expectantly.

“Stan, what’s after school?” Kyle asked before Stan could speak, a sinking feeling in his gut, and as Stan’s face morphed into one of confusion, he let out an embarrassing whine. “Stan, I don’t know what’s after school.”

“The fuck are you talking about?” Stan asked, brow furrowed, and Kyle dropped his face to his hands, mumbling into his palms and pressing his fingertips into his eye sockets, like he could end his own misery by squashing his brain right through them. All he managed was to make stars burst behind his eyelids. “Kyle, I can’t understand you when you talk in your crisis pose.”

“I agreed to something and I don’t know what!” he wailed, throwing his hands to the ceiling in frustration and screeching behind his teeth. “Stan, he said, ‘See you after school,’ and I have no idea what he was talking about. I just agreed!”

“Why didn’t you just ask him to repeat himself?”

“It was a knee-jerk reaction, Stan! By the time I realized what I did, he was already halfway down the hall!” He gripped at his hair and considered tearing it out. “What am I gonna do?”

“Well, you could ask him next period. You usually see him twice.” Stan shrugged, but was also clearly trying not to laugh, and Kyle resented him so much for that. “That sucks though, dude.” He snorted quietly, and Kyle dared him to go further. “Oh man, what are you gonna say? ‘Hey David, so funny story, I don’t actually know what I agreed to, because I was too distracted by how hot you look always.’ Oh shit, Kyle, you’re so fucked dude.” Then he did laugh, the motherfucker, the traitor, and he gripped his belly and wheezed while Kyle clenched and unclenched his fists, seriously considering resorting to violence.

There was suddenly a rough yanking sensation on his shoulder and Kyle yelped, turning to find Kenny hanging on his arm. “Heyyyy, my man! My big grown up manly man. How’d it go?” His teeth were ready to pop out of his beaming smile- at least the ones he still had. He then took a moment to assess the situation, and Kyle guessed he looked pretty dismal, because Kenny started to chill and let go of his arm, sobering up. “Aw man, that bad huh?”

“Kyle got distracted by David’s immaculate body, and regretfully does not know how it went.”

“Holy shit, Stan, stop,” Kyle warned, but Kenny had already resorted to booming laughter and started to hang off Stan’s arm instead, the two of them shrieking like hyenas. “It’s not like that! I just, I had a lapse in memory. It happens!”

“Yeah, when you’re obsessed with somebody, maybe,” Kenny snickered, and they switched to hushed giggling while they tried to calm down. Kyle felt his face go redder, if it was even possible. “Okay, so you need a new game plan. You gotta know where you’re meeting up anyways, right? Just meet up with ‘im here again when you usually do and you’re all set,” Kenny deduced, confidently. Kyle groaned.

“I guess I’m just nervous, again,” he admitted, feeling the embarrassment deep in his soul, crushing it and cracking it and making him generally miserable. His shoulders hung and he sagged into himself. Kenny and Stan shared a look, then Stan reached a hand out to grip his shoulder encouragingly.

“Hey, dude, this stuff is always tough. You can do it, though. We believe in you.”

“Yeah, well,” he grumbled, “two out of three ain’t bad.”

“That’s the spirit!” Kenny clapped his back hard and he straightened out his posture. “You got this, bud. You’ve got your own charm aboutcha. I got faith.” Stan nodded in agreement, and Kyle let out a big breath.

“Yeah, alright.”

He was not alright.

Will we ever find out what David said to Kyle in his moment of weakness? Does the author use italics way too much in Kyle’s POV? Is David the embodiment of perfection himself? The answer to all three is a resounding, ‘Probably!’

[i-used-to-wear-the-fedora]

BMC Jeremy is Missing AU [Rewrite] In Depth

Ch.12 A Good Samaritan

“Hey d-Mr.Heere!” Both Jeremy’s dad and the man he was talking to turned to see Jeremy using Michael’s body to walk over towards the two.

“Michael? What are you doing in here? Shouldn’t you be in school?”

“Oh you know-lunch break and stuff. But ugh I heard something about you needed money?”

“Actually it’s Dr.Graham over here who needs the money. I’d give him some but I barely have enough for groceries.”

“M-maybe I could give you the money!”

“I couldn’t-”

“P-please for any friend of my da…Mr.Heere.” Jeremy felt slightly guilty as he reached into Michael’s pocket and pulled out the money. But it was for a good reason. “Here.” The man smiled as he took the money from Michael’s hand.

“Thank you….”

“Jer…Michael. Michael Mell.”

“Thanks Michael. You know you remind me of my son Craig, he’s around your age. If you need anything just let me know.”

“Really, it’s okay. Just being a good samaritan and stuff.” The doctor smiled waving goodbye to Mr.Heere before walking away leaving Jeremy and his father alone.

“Michael, that was very nice of you.”

“Thanks…Mr.Heere. It seemed like the right thing to do. So, you’re grocery shopping?” Jeremy asked seeing his dad’s small list.

“Yeah, Jeremy’s birthday’s coming up in a few days…gotta make sure I don’t burn it this year. Wouldn’t want a repeat of last year.” Jeremy remembered his birthday last year, he and Michael took a bite and instantly spit it out to find that under the three layers of frosting was a cake burned to the point of blackness. He couldn’t stop a laugh from coming out as he remembered that.

“Oh my God, I remember that. It tasted so bad so we just split up the frosting and put it on top of our ice cream.”

“I-I remember,” Mr.Heere as he chuckled leaning his kart. “I still have pictures of the two of you right after with food all over your faces.”

“Hey, I was hungry.”

“You looked just like when you were six on Halloween and you got into the sugar sticks. That was everywhere me and Jackie were cleaning it out of the right for weeks.” Jeremy stopped when he said Jackie. His mom. Did his mom come to his funeral? Did she talk to Dad?

“How is…Jeremy’s mom anyway?” Mr.Heere stopped laughing as he unknowingly looked at his son. “Sorry if that’s too personal.”

“No it’s alright son. Jackie’s being Jackie as usual. She still hasn’t talked to me since the funeral.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No it’s alright Michael, it’s not like you’re the reason she’s angry at me.” A beep went off on Mr.Heere’s phone making him look down at his phone before turning his kart around. “Sorry I got distracted, talk to you later Michael!” Jeremy waved goodbye as he watched his dad walk away.

“See you later…dad.” Jeremy smiled. He actually talked to his dad. Money now gone Jeremy walked over to exit. Munchies wouldn’t have tasted nearly as good as the feeling in his, or was it Michael’s?, stomach. He could give Michael his body back….but on the other hand lunch was still going on at school. Jeremy couldn’t believe he was actually excited for school food but it was better than nothing.

~~

“Hey Christine are you alright?” The girl looked up from her math book to see Jenna staring at her. “You look like you just ate a lemon. You thinking about something? …somebody?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Christine, you shouldn’t bottle this stuff up.”

“What’s there to bottle up? I mean it’s not like I’m friends with the girl who convinced me to make Jeremy run away in the first place.” Jenna back up as Christine snapped at her. “Sorry, I just don’t want to talk about it okay? This all so much take in at once.”

“Christine, we need to talk about this.”

“Later.”

“You’ve been saying later forever, we can’t keep ignoring Jeremy. Especially since it’s actually Jeremy now.”

“Ms.Rolan, Canigula, is there something you’d like to share with the rest of the class?” The teacher glared at the two girls who quickly quit talking as the woman went back to writing the equation on the white board. Christine not even looking over at Jenna anymore looked at her book hoping to not have to make eye contact.

~~

“Eugh…what happened?” Michael’s head hurt as he looked around, his vision still coming back. “Wha…?” Looking down he saw various stains on his shirt that looked like food making him even more confused. When did he eat? Wait…Jeremy. Jeremy took control of his body. Darting up he saw he was in his bedroom, on his bed. Jeremy was standing not too far away looking over some pictures on the wall. He noticed Michael awake as he jumped seeing his friend.

“Michael, you’re awake!”

“Jeremy what…happened? And why do I feel like I just ate my mom’s pancakes?” Grabbing his phone Michael saw it was seven at night. “Seven? Jeremy how long were you in my body?”

“Oh-er, well I…a few hours? I just intended on getting a few snacks at Walmart but then that kind of fell through and your mom wanted to make dinner plus you had a lot of Doritos and other stuff in your kitchen-”

“So you used my body to eat time of junk food?”

“Don’t worry-I didn’t way peanut butter or anything and I brushed your teeth!” To test that statement Michael ran his tongue around his mouth. It tasted like a combination of mint tooth paste, Doritos, Mountain Dew and Oreos. Not a pleasant combination.

“Eugh, Jeremy why?”

“I’m sorry Michael…I just wanted to taste food again.”

“But did you have to eat so much? I feel like I’ve gained two pounds.” Heading himself up Michael walked over to pick up the discarded cardigan. “I don’t think I can even bring myself to get a slushie tight now.” Michael reached into his pants pocket to pull out the money he intended to use to buy a said slushie but was surprised when he found nothing in the pocket.

“Hey where’s my money?” Jeremy looked guilty as Michael asked about the cash.

“I kind of…lent it to dad’s friend…” Michael made an annoyed face at this causing Jeremy to flinch.

“Is there anything else I should know about?”

“I’m sorry Michael.” Michael immediately faltered when he saw Jeremy’s face. Even as a ghost Jeremy seemed to look like he was about to cry.

“It’s alright dude, really. Just next time you give me a heads up before?” Jeremy nodded, the look know gone as he went to hug Michael but stopped when he realized the awkwardness that would bring. Jeremy really missed being able to hug Michael.

With Dustin:

Dustin stood in the salt circle around him in the darkened school bathroom as he placed the unlit candles around him before picking up the book he got in the library nervously looked it over.

‘I don’t know if I want the ghost to be real or not. I mean if its real and I do summon him I don’t think he’s going to like me…’ Taking a deep breath Dustin began to read.

“Oh sacred spirit come from afar, come now and prove that you are.” Nothing happened for a few seconds promoting Dustin to shut the book when a sudden breeze passed through the bathroom. The lights began to flash on and off as the stall doors swung scaring the teen when candles became lit followed by the feeling he was no longer alone in the restroom. Scared out of his mind Dustin called out, “Jeremy are here?”

His response was the the door to the bathroom slamming shut just as quickly as it opened making Dustin jump as the candles went out again leaving him in there darkness. Realizing the wet feeling in his pants Dustin was suddenly very glad he decided to do the ceremony in the men’s room.

Ch.13 Night of the Party

Michael stared down at the math assignment, internally groaning. God why did this face to be so difficult?

“The answer’s sixty nine over five.” Michael jumped slightly as Jeremy appeared next to his desk.

“Jesus!”

“Oops sorry dude.”

“You need a freaking bell around your neck.”

“Well I don’t think that’s possible. But the answer is still sixty nine over five.”

“How do you know?”

“Advanced Pre-Calc, I had Ms.Petrov before, remember?”

“Nope.”

“Here let me help you with this.” Jeremy’s hand went to touch Michael’s who flinched away, retracting his hand.

“Can you not do that? It’s just ever since Walmart I don’t think I’m comfortable…”

“With me touching you?”

“Yeah. That.” A sad look crossed Jeremy’s face for a moment before disappearing.

“I won’t, I’m just showing you where the decimal sould go before you make it a fraction.”

“Okay,” Michael followed Jeremy’s instructions getting half way through the problem when his phone vibrated in his pocket. Picking it up he saw it was a text from Jake.

yo Mikey I’m throwing a bomb ass party tonight and u r invited- -no thanks no thanks?- -don’t like parties come on dude, please?- it’ll just be me and the rest of the drama squad- except Chloe- she’s angry- -… -idk please?- -… -fine awesome!- c u tonight at my place- btw, pepperoni or bacon for pizza?- -def. pepperoni coolio-

Michael pocketed his phone as he looked up to see Jeremy had disappeared again. Michael looked down at his homework surprised.

‘Weird, thought was only halfway through.’

The page had all been filled out except for the last one. ~~ Chloe checked her phone again. Still nothing from Brooke.

'Damn it, how long is that bi-Brooke going to ignore me? She would’ve usually cracked by now. God damnit.’

The last text she’d sent was from less then a minute ago, she knew Brooke has seen her messages at this point. She was being ignored. By Brooke. And this was really starting to piss her off. Checking Instagram she went to Brooke’s page to see she had been unfriended by the blonde.

'Why doesn’t Brooke want to talk to me? Wait, I already know. That freak, Michael. Ever since he started claiming he could see ghost boy Jeremy Heere Brooke suddenly stopped listening to me-’

“Ms.Valentine, I’m trying to teach. Please put that phone away.”

~~

“Does Jake invite you to a lot of parties now?” Jeremy asked as they stood in front of the mirror in Michael’s room as the living boy tried on another one of his red button up shirts. “Also, these literally all look the same. Do you just buy your shirts on bulk?”

“Sometimes. And not really. Or at least I never go.”

“Why not? You’re being invited to Jake freaking Dillinger’s party. That’s like the most awesome thing that could happen to you in highschool.”

“Yeah going to a loud, crowded house party surrounded people drunk of their asses because people feel sorry for you sounds really awesome.”

“Feel sorry for you?”

“The only reason I’m invited is because feels bad about what happened to you.”

“Oh…then why are you going tonight?”

“Well I just thought I haven’t ever really gone to a highschool party and it’s only like five people. If I’m lucky Chloe won’t be there,” Michael decided on one of his identical red shirts taking off his hoodie allowing Jeremy to see his chest. The teen turned away until Michael walked past him towards the bathroom. Heading over to the medicine cabinet he brought out a bottle of old spice Jeremy got him for his birthday. Michael made a face as he shared it on. “Aw, Christ. This smells horrible. Jeremy is it obvious?”

“I don’t know, I can’t smell.”

“Oh.”

“Wait I got you that three years ago. You’ve never work it before?”

“It seems with a good reason, do you think I have time for a shower?”

“What time does the party start?”

“Seven.” Jeremy’s head peeked through the wall before coming back into the bathroom.

“It’s seven thirty.”

“Yeah I still got time.” ~~ “So when’s Michael supposed to get here?” Rich asked looking up from the game of Mario Kart he and Jenna were playing.

“Yeah it’s like eight o'clock already,” Christine said snapping out of her nap, “Maybe we should call it-”

“No he’ll be here any minute maybe he ran into traffic or something.” Jake was playing with his red cup nervously, unable to remember if this was his third or fourth cup of beer. Brooke noticed this taking the cup away from him.

“Jake he lives two blocks away. He didn’t get stuck in traffic.” That’s when the front doorbell rang prompting Brooke to open the door and see Michael dressed nicer than earlier. “Woah, Michael you…” She trailed off when her nose caught a whiff of the scent she new all too well. Covering her nose she unconsciously backed away, Michael noticed.

“I took a shower but even then it didn’t wash off.”

“You smell like my ex Peter, he always smelled like Old Spice.” Jake walked past the blonde, barely fazed by the scent as he pat Michael on the back.

“Glad you could make it bro! Here,” he handed Michael a red cup, “drink up, the nights just beginning!”

“I’m not much of a beer guy-”

“Come on dude, just a drink or two.”

Michael looked over towards Jeremy who nodded. Just…one beer wouldn’t hurt.

An Hour Later:

“~And I will always love you!~” Michael sat on top of the kitchen table moving his head as he sang along to the music. Everybody else was either gone or passed out on the floor for some reason except for Michael who fell as he tried to get off the table. “Oh come on Jeremy~ I know y-you’re here, pfffttt Heere, somewhere~” There wasn’t a response as Michael drunkenly stumbled towards the door. “W-w-well you guys this was fun but I need to go home~ Bye~”

He fumbled with the handles for a few moments before finally opening the door as he felt a small buzzing sensation in his neck.

'Man how much did I drink? Pfff who cares. I need to go home and wait…where’s Jeremy? Jeremy’s missing, I should find him.’ Through his buzzed haze Michael stumbled out of the driveway to the street giggling all the way as he came to a stop in the middle of the road to look up at the sky. 'Woah, there’s so many stars or maybe I should try and count them…one, two-’

“Michael!” A voice called out to the teen at he turned around but instead seeing the source he saw a bright light coming towards him.

'Aliens? Cool, maybe I should go towards the light.’

“Michael!” That was the last thing the teen heard before the sounds of screeching breaks and someone screaming.

Ch.14

Michael’s head pounded as his eyes slowly opened, a beeping should came from nearby.

“Mmmmm….” The whiteness of whatever room he was in was blinding. 'Jesus Christ my eyes.’ His vision came into focus as began to look around the room. He was in a hospital bed, the being was coming from a heart monitor. There were two seats next to the bed, his mom was asleep, her head hanging slightly off the arm of the chair. Turning around he saw Jeremy pacing in front of his bed. His friend came to a stop when he noticed Michael was awake.

“Michael!” He rushed over to the other teen’s side.

“Jeremy?” This came out as a hoarse whisper as he tried to sit up but quickly laid back down from the pain in his chest. “…fuck…Jeremy, what happened last night?”

“You don’t remember?”

“Nothing past getting to Jake’s party…” Michael clutched his chest in pain as he said that, “Christ it feels like a car hit me.”

“That’s because it did.”

“Wait, what?”

“You were in the middle of street when a car hit you. You’ve been asleep for the whole day.”

“Holy Shit.” Michael tried remember anything from the drunken haze that was the party last night. Nothing was clear except for one thing…“I-I think I was looking for you.”

“Why would you be looking for me? I was right there.”

“N-no you weren’t. I remember you weren’t there.”

“Where else would I be?”

“I don’t know, but you weren’t there.” Jeremy didn’t say anything annoying Michael but before he could say anything Michael’s mom snapped awake at Michael’s louder voice.

“Michael, thank God you’re awake!” She went to hug him but pulled away when he winced. “Oh right sorry.” Instead she kissed him on the cheek before giving him a familiar look of disappointment. “Just what the hell were you thinking? Going to a party without telling me, getting drunk and running into the street? You almost died Michael.”

“How do you know I was drunk?”

“Michael I can still smell it on you.” Michael didn’t respond as his mother sat back down in her chair. “You’re grounded until next week. No leaving the house except for school, no car-”

“No phone?”

“You don’t even have a phone anymore, it was crushed in the accident.”

“Oh…”

“I didn’t eat any of your friends to the police but I did find out it was this Jake Dillinger who threw the party so I’m going to have a talk with him.”

“Mom-”

“End of discussion. Now I’m going to go get a nurse.” She left the room slamming the door behind her. Michael looked back at Jeremy who was now sitting in one of the chairs. What the hell was Jeremy hiding from him? Why was he lying? Multiple questions ran through his head but he kept them in when the door opened again as both his mom and a nurse came in.

~~

“-thank you, have a great day mam.” Mrs.Mell signed the last paper before opening the door so that Michael didn’t hit his leg brace on anything. Three fractured ribs, a sprained ankle and a concussion. Nothing too serious and they had already given his mom the prescription for his pain medication. Getting on the car needed help lifting his foot without hurting himself.

The drive home was awkwardly silent. Pulling into the driveway he handed her his car keys before they went up to his room together as she set him in the bed before leaving the room, locking the door behind her. Jeremy was now on the floor staring at Michael before the boy climbed out of bed heading over to his window.

“Michael what are you doing?”

“Leaving.”

“What? Why? You’re really screwed up right now.”

“Maybe but I’m not going to make any progress helping you from a bed.”

“Helpi-Michael what are you talking about? You’re hurt and it’s starting to rain. How are you even going to climb down?”

“The tree.” Michael said this as he lifted the window sill.

“Michael stop those just hurting yourself more, what do you even expect to do? Walk all the way to Jake’s house? Newsflash, that’s crazy.”

“How’d you know I was going to Jake’s house?”

“That’s besides the point.”

“No it’s not. And why were you lying about last night? About being there the whole time? I know you weren’t. If you were you would’ve taken over again and pushed me out of the way.” Jeremy was silent as Michael said that making the bespectacled boy let out an annoyed sound. “Yeah that’s what I thought. I’m leaving and you can’t stop me.” Michael was about to take a step out but suddenly found he couldn’t move as his body froze. “What the hell? Jeremy?” Turning around he saw his friend staying to come in and out of existence, like he was…glitching.

“Activating Emergency Memory Core: Processing.” Wait. What? Emergency Processor Core? Michael watched frozen as Jeremy came in and out for minutes before fully coming back.

“Jeremy, what the fuck is going on?”

“I’m sorry Michael, I can’t allow you to hurt yourself anymore like this. As your SQUIP it’s my duty to keep you happy and safe.”

“W-what are you saying? SQUIP?”

“I’m sorry Michael. I am not the real Jeremy. I am not a ghost. I am a Super Qualified Unit Intel Processor. Your friend Richard Goranski slipped me into your Mountain Dew drink the night before school started. It wasn’t just you getting sick that night.”

“W-wait, you’re saying Rich gave me you?”

“To make you feel better. He saw your declining mental and physical state and wanted to help.”

“Y-you’re kidding. You have to be real, all those memories, the possession, what you did in the bathroom-”

“Michael, I only remember things about Jeremy that you do. I have access to your body that allows for possession. The bathroom lights were electricity charges I put out.”

“But the stall doors-”

“Michael, I can explain it all.” Michael felt tears falling down his face as Jere-the SQUIP let his muscles unfreeze as he fell down to the floor. “I’m truly sorry for the pain over caused you but if it makes any difference I treasure the relationship we shared.” Michael didn’t say anything as he wiped his face off trying and failing to compose himself. “I’m going to guide you how to get out of the house, in a much less dangerous way so that you can talk to Rich. It seems apparent that you two have things to talk about.” Michael didn’t say anything as he got off the floor and followed the A.I. outside of the room.

Ch.15 Confrontation

Rich sat in front of his TV playing Call of Duty when there was a knock at the door.

'Weird,’ Rich thought walking towards the door, 'I thought Jake was working today.’ Opening the door he was greeted by a scowling Michael who was wearing what looked like pajamas with a scowl on his face and a brace on his ankle.

“Bro, great to see you’re still alive! Jake told me about last night, you got hit by car? That’s-”

“I know Rich.”

“Know? Know what?”

“About the SQUIP. It told me.”

“Oh.”

“Oh? That’s all you have to say?”

“Well what do you want me to say?”

“I don’t know, how about sorry for giving you a computer that pretended to be my dead best friend?” Michael made his way into the house now grabbing Rich by his shirt. “What the fuck?”

“Hey I didn’t know it would try and pretend to be Jeremy but it helped you right?”

“Helped me?! You knew the whole time and you just let it happen?”

“Michael, the night before school started you looked like shit. You have washed your hair in days, your bags had bags and I saw the cuts on your arms. Believe it or not as your friend I actually care about what’s happening to you. So…I slipped one into the Mountain Dew I gave you.” Michael let go of the smaller boy’s shirt as he shoved him away, backing away so that he could leave against the wall. Tears were running down his face again as he sank down to the floor. Rich sat down next to and Je-the SQUIP say on the other side of him.

“I-I don’t know what to do now…”

“If you want, the can get rid of me Michael. I’m not helping you and now I’m not even fully functioning.” The words came out of Jeremy’s mouth making Michael even more confused. “Ever since the alcohol last night I haven’t been properly functioning. Glitching in and out, unable to look up previous data, of you walked away right now and I didn’t know where you were going I shouldn’t be able to follow you Michael.”

“Rich…”

“Yeah dude?”

“The SQUIP wants me to get rid of it.”

“Do you want to get rid of it?”

“Kind of…but at the same time…it’s all I have left of Jeremy. I don’t want to lose him again.”

“That’s alright dude. I understand but if you ever want to, I have some Mountain Dew Red.”

“I know, but I think I need some help. Like serious help. And maybe some distance from Squeremy.” Rich burst out laughing as Michael said that. “What’s so funny?”

“Squeremy? Oh my God! That’s amazing.” The newly dubbed Squeremy smoked at that at that name.

“Squeremy. I like that.” It took Rich a moment to stop laughing before he could articulate his words again.

“B-but seriously, about the help thing? Why don’t you see that therapist dude Jeremy’s dad has been seeing?”

“That actually sounds like a good idea. But maybe Squeremy could stay here? Just until I get back?”

“Uh, sure. I guess.”

“Thanks dude,” Rich nodded his head before hugging Michael. The teen thought about pushing him away for a moment before accepting the embrace. An actual human touch. He doesn’t even think about Squeremy hearing the thought, human touch.

Something the SQUIP knew it could never provide Michael.

~~

“-so Michael is this your first time coming to Therapy?” Michael sat in the red chair just across from the therapist’s desk fiddling with the stress ball that was on the desk next to him.

“I went a few times last year but that was just the one at the school. She didn’t help a lot.” The man’s house was big, Michael had to walk through the living room to get to the office that was decorated with various papers and certificates. It felt almost claustrophobic with how tightly packed it was.

“I’d imagine, schools are where the therapists that got straight D’s are sent,” Michael let out a snort at that, “but don’t tell anyone I said that. My sister’s a teacher counselor.”

“I won’t. At least, as long as you don’t tell my mom I’m coming here. She found out yesterday and “double” grounded me. Whatever that means.“

"You know, you remind me of my son when he was your age, sixteen?”

“Nah I’m seventeen.”

“You’re kidding? You look younger.”

“Yeah I get that a lot.” The man was about to say something when his phone rang. He made an annoyed face as he looked down at the screen.

“It looks like Mr.Heere’s calling again. Do you mind if I take this? It mayhem be a while…”

“No, it’s chill got my stress ball,” Michael have the red ball a squeeze to emphasize his point.

“Alright, I’ll be back as soon as possible.” He left the room closing the door behind him. It was a few seconds. Then a minute. Then a few minutes. Michael got up to stretch his legs to avoid boredom. God the stress ball wasn’t helping….heading over to the deal he saw a picture of the therapist and a teenage boy. It seemed old and frayed, the man looked a lot younger. The teenage boy must have been his son. Curious Michael looked around the desk area when he saw an album labelled family photos.

'I shouldn’t…’ But there was no little voice in his head telling him directly not to. That voice was back at Rich’s house playing Call please Duty. Taking the album out of the book case Michael began to flip through it. More pictures of the boy in the frame. Further in he saw photos of the man with two boys, one a few years younger than the boy in the frame. Another son? Foiling further he stopped when he saw a familiar photo.

It was a picture of him, Jeremy and Jeremy’s dad at the park for Jeremy’s sixth birthday party. 'Mr.Heere must have given him this…’ Flipping through he found a few other pictures Michael recognized from Jeremy’s house. 'Jesus Mr.Heere, what did you-wait.’ Michael turned the page again and saw a photo of Jeremy only…he was with Dr.Graham.

Jeremy was sitting in a chair and the doctor was behind him smiling. Jeremy on the other hand…his mouth was in more of a grimace than a smile and his eyes were wide. Flipping further the pictures of Jeremy and the man became more frequent, Jeremy looking worse with every page turn. Dr.Graham, the man who moved next door to Jeremy’s dad, became his therapist…

Michael felt himself get sick as be realized who’s house he was in. He needed to leave, call the police he-

“What the hell are you doing?”

[bethanygracewilliams]

Phantom of the Opera North American Tour

On August 6th, I got the incredible opportunity to see the new production of Phantom of the Opera live and let me just say, I had a fantastic time. It was absolutely gorgeous and it was everything I hoped it would be.

If you haven't seen the new production yet and are planning to, you might want to skip this post as it will contain spoilers for the new production.

First off, let me just say that this is the first time I've ever seen Phantom live and the sets were beautiful. I couldn't get over the amount of detail and complexity in each set. It was also amazing how they managed to fit so many different sets into such a compact area. The rooftop, the graveyard, and the Phantom's lair were some of my personal favourites. And, of course, the chandelier was gorgeous. The costumes were beautifully crafted and the wigs were wonderfully styled. I know the Phantom's new wig has been received with both good and bad responses, but personally, I loved it. I thought it was cute.

I fell in love with both the voices and performances of the Phantom and Christine, played by Victor Wallace and Kaitlyn Davis respectively. Their voices were breathtaking and their performances, at least in my opinion, felt very emotional and personal. Carlotta, Meg, and Mme. Giry, played by Trista Moldovan, Julie Eicher, and Kristie Dale Sanders respectively, were all amazing. They were very entertaining and they all had those certain aspects of their characters spot on. Andre, played by Edward Staudenmayer, was absolutely hilarious. He was fantastic at his role and he made me laugh so many times throughout the show. Raoul, Piangi, and Firmin, played by Jordan Craig, Phumzile Sojola, and David Benoit respectively, were, in my opinion, a little weak compared to the rest of the cast, but by no means bad. I still enjoyed their performances vey much.

The orchestra was outstanding. I've never heard an orchestra live before and it might be one of the best things I've ever heard. The music was so crisp and clear and it was even more beautiful live than it is on the 25th anniversary DVD. I can't even begin to describe the feeling I got hearing the overture live.

The pyrotechnics and special effects were so cool to see live! The fog was so magical. The fire was intense and so bright, I actually had to shut my eyes. I was prepared for all but one gunshot. That one nearly gave me a heart attack. And, of course, it was one of the coolest things I've ever experienced to see that chandelier drop live in front of my eyes. I loved it!

Now, let me get into some of the specific things I loved about this production. I loved how they did the sequence of the opera house coming back to life during the overture. They way they kept Raoul on the stage while ballerinas and stagehands made their way onto the stage, almost like he was watching a memory, was so beautiful. And it was so cool how the two walls spun around to be the opera boxes.

Of course, the mirror scene was very cool, with all the lights and smoke as the Phantom brought Christine through. The whole sequence of him bringing her to his lair for the first time was amazing. I loved how they were up in the flies and then all the stairs came out of the wall for them to go down underground. I also loved the little detail, when they were going down the stairs, Christine stopped halfway down and when they Phantom realized she wasn't following anymore, he came back up to her level and offered her his hand. I thought that was sweet. I was a little disappointed that they didn't have the boat during Phantom Of The Opera, but was extremely excited when they did in The Final Lair instead. I also loved during the 'Sing!' part of Phantom Of The Opera, the Phantom really seemed like a teacher. He wasn't just pushing her to sing, he was also telling her to breathe, gesturing to her entire diaphragm, teaching her how to hit those notes. I really liked that because I feel that in many productions of Phantom, we lose that teacher quality in him because they focus only on the fact that he's in love with her.

One of my favourite things in this production was the choreography for Music Of The Night. I absolutely loved it. It just felt so personal and sensitive and sweet. The Phantom gave Christine some of his music for her to look through and it was so sweet. He urged her to look through with the excitement of a little kid. He was so proud to show her the music he had written just for her. Then, he put a blindfold over her eyes because he was still teaching her and he wanted her to feel the music, not just hear it or sing it. He wanted her to really understand the music and feel it in her soul. Again, I loved seeing the Phantom actually teaching her, not just obsessing over her. Another thing I liked was that even with his mask on, he was still so hesitant for Christine to look at him, almost as if he were afraid of her gaze. He was also extremely reluctant to touch her or for her to touch him. Even though he had brought her down to his domain, he was constantly shying away from her. One thing I didn't like, though, was during the second last verse, the Phantom just suddenly picked Christine up, carried her over to the bed, laid her down and that's how she fell asleep. It felt very out of character for the Phantom to just blatantly invade her personal space when he wasn't leading her somewhere or begging her not to leave, especially since he had been so hesitant to let her look at him, let alone touch him, through most of the song.

However, I did like how they did the first face reveal. By having the Phantom remove his mask on his own to clean his face gave it such a personal, intimate touch that I absolutely loved. If he had known Christine was awake, he never would have done that. Because he thought she was still sleeping, he deemed it safe to go about his normal routine and letting us have a glimpse into the everyday rituals of the Phantom was something I really loved. And the fact that he started crying because he felt bad for scaring Christine with his face was so heartbreaking. It was a perfect choice.

The way they killed Buquet, played by Dan Debenport, was really well done, in my opinion. They had the Phantom disguise himself as a stage hand so by the time Buquet realized who it was, it was too late. They actually showed the Phantom tying the noose around Buquet's neck (when in reality, he was hooking it to his shirt so he didn't actually hang) and I thought that was a nice touch. And with the ballerinas screaming and the music, the whole scene felt so dark and sinister. It was amazing.

Another thing I didn't like was that, right before All I Ask Of You, Christine actually contemplated jumping off of the roof of the opera house to escape from the Phantom. It felt very out of character for her, but in a way that I just can't describe. I just didn't like it. However, I did like that after she collapsed onto the floor, Raoul got down on his hands and knees during All I Ask Of You, to get down on her level, and he inched towards her just a little bit at a time. Then, when he got close enough, he wrapped her in a big hug and held her close. Honestly, it was so sweet and I could feel how much Raoul truly cared for Christine in those moments.

I was the most excited and the most nervous about the All I Ask Of You Reprise because it's one of my favourite songs from the whole show. Thankfully, my worries were completely misplaced because Victor Wallace absolutely nailed it. He started out so angry because he felt so hurt and betrayed by Christine, but he sang the line, "he was bound to love you when he heard you sing" so softly, like, for a moment, he didn't blame Raoul for falling in love with Christine. How could he not? But, of course, he soon became angry once again and brought down the chandelier by shooting the lines holding it up from Box 5. So much happened in that scene, I had trouble seeing it all. The chandelier swung and sparked and eventually dropped, people were screaming, curtains and backdrops fell... It was so overwhelming, but it was one of the best moments of my life. I think the people in the front rows had a heart attack when the chandelier dropped, especially if they didn't know it was coming. It was great.

Getting to see Masquerade was also such an incredible experience. The costumes, the music, the colours, the dancing... It was all so amazing and spectacular to see live! I was disappointed with the Phantom's Red Death costume, though. Instead of the big, elaborate costume with the huge feathered hat and intricate skull mask, it was just a red soldier's uniform with a bedazzled half mask. So, yeah, that was a little disappointing.

Something I did like, though, was that while Mme. Giry was telling Raoul about the Phantom's past, they illustrated it through shadows projected on the walls. They showed a man getting a bag pulled off of his head and being whipped by another man and when Mme. Giry merely said that he escaped, they showed the Phantom strangling whoever had kept him captive. It was a nice additional visual and helped better illustrate his story.

A little detail that made me laugh during Notes 2 was that Piangi was eating chocolates and stuff in the background and when the Phantom's note said that he needed to lose weight, he just stopped eating and shoved them somewhere in his jacket. That made me chuckle. And when Kaitlyn Davis sang Twisted Every Way, it quickly became one of my favourite renditions of it. It was so haunting and absolutely beautiful. And when everybody was rehearsing the Phantom's opera and the piano started playing itself, I loved the detail of fire coming out of the piano and the way that the chorus seemed to be addressing Christine with the song. She was so overwhelmed and upset and all of those things really made the whole scene more intense. Also, when Mme. Giry asked Carlotta if she could be certain the composer wasn't present, Carlotta warily looked up for anymore backdrops or sandbags to drop, then stepped out of harm's way and crossed herself. It was just a little detail, but it was one of my favourites.

And then, of course, Wishing You Were Somehow Here Again was beautifully performed by Kaitlyn Davis. It was powerful and emotional and heart-wrenching. It was everything I hoped for and more. It was an incredibly chilling rendition. Wandering Child was also one I was nervous for as it's also one of my favourites, but again, as soon as I heard it, it blew all my worries away. It really felt like Christine was being entranced, hypnotized, by the Phantom. Raoul called out to her, grabbed her hand, even stood right in front of her and she was still being pulled by the Phantom's voice. Then, Raoul did something I did not expect. He just ran up and punched the Phantom right in the face! I almost burst out laughing right there in the theatre; it was incredible. I couldn't believe he had actually decked him, and then went a step further and slammed him up against the wall. I loved that change because, honestly, Raoul should want to fight for Christine in any way possible. Again, it really made me feel how much Raoul cared for Christine.

One of the coolest things was right before the Phantom's opera began and you could hear him saying "I'm here" from all different directions. It was super trippy, especially since I've never experienced it live. And may I just say, Point Of No Return was a lot steamier and a lot more touchy-feely in this production than it was in the 25th anniversary. Like, we all thought it was some hot stuff with Ramin and Sierra? Yeah, this one was twice as bad and I was like, parents brought kids under the age of ten to this. Wonder if they're questioning that decision if they haven't already? So, yeah, that was a little wild. One detail that I did like, though, was that the actor who played Piangi was black while the one who played the Phantom was white. When they made the switch, the Phantom was wearing gloves in addition to the cloak. Then, after a few verses he took them off and put his hands in front of Christine's eyes so she could clearly see it was him. Then, throughout the rest of the song, you could see that Christine was manipulating him to keep him on stage so she could reveal it was the Phantom. You could see the glances she was throwing to Raoul up in his box. I don't know, I just really loved those little details. Also, after the line "past the point of no return", both Christine and the Phantom did this neat little salsa stamp after singing the line. That was another little thing I liked. And, of course, the Phantom's proposal was heart-wrenching as usual. And instead of being instantly angry when Christine pulled off his mask and wig, he just gave off this silent sort of hurt and betrayal and it was so heartbreaking. Also, nobody seemed to care about the fact that Piangi had been hanged? Like, it just got completely overlooked because the Phantom kidnapped Christine. That was a little weird.

Like I mentioned before, I was so happy to see the boat while the Phantom started Down Once More. It really made up for not having it in Phantom Of The Opera. When Raoul showed up, the Phantom held Christine with his arm around her throat to deter Raoul from trying anything. That then shifted into the position where the Phantom is holding Christine behind him by the throat, effectively strangling her without even realizing it. They had that little detail of the Phantom looking at his hand in horror once he released Christine and realizing what he had done. I really appreciate that because the Phantom would never intentionally hurt Christine, but he would unintentionally. And when the three of them started all singing at once, there was a nice detail there. Christine started taking the Phantom's sheet music and began crumpling it up, page by page. It was such a defiant action, like she was saying, "If you're going to take away what I love, I'm going to take away what you love." Of course, Erik was extremely upset by that and immediately, he was on the floor, scrambling for his music and that, in turn, gave Christine a chance to go to Raoul. The Phantom was quick to pull her away from him, though, and he wound up pushing her down onto the bed. Now, I'm not gonna lie, I was extremely concerned that things were gonna get a little a rapey and I was like, please do not do that to Erik's character because he would never even dream of abusing Christine in such a way. Thankfully, however, it seemed more like that's just where he wound up pushing her because that's where they were closest to. He's so manic and unstable in the final scene that he was just doing whatever he could to get her away from Raoul in that moment. When the Phantom told Christine to make her choice, he was already crying, he was so overwhelmed.

And then, of course, the kiss. We gotta talk about that. It was so heart-wrenching, it was beautiful. Christine kissed him and he just froze. His mind couldn't even register that Christine was kissing him. He actually fell to his knees and Christine just came right down with him, giving him a big hug after she pulled away from the kiss. It was heartbreaking and I had a super hard time not crying. That whole moment was just full of such powerful, raw emotion. It was possibly the best moment in the whole show.

One thing that absolutely broke my heart was that the Phantom delivered the line, "Christine, I love you" without knowing she was even there. After Christine and Raoul had left and we had our heartbreaking reprise of Masquerade, the Phantom was on the floor, trying to straighten out the sheet music Christine had crumpled up. Christine came back to return his ring, but before she even said anything, the Phantom delivered that line and Christine had to try her hardest not to burst into sobs(as did I). She just left the ring on a table without letting the Phantom know she was there and then quietly left with Raoul. That just absolutely ripped my heart right out of my chest. I also really loved that Raoul came with Christine when she went to return the ring, like he understood that it was something she needed to do, that she felt so sorry for the Phantom, she couldn't just leave without doing that. And when the Phantom can hear them singing, he just stops trying to salvage his music because if Christine won't perform his work, then no one should because he wrote it specifically for her. It's so sad.

The ending was different than what I expected. I expected him to sit in the chair with the black cloak, then he'd be gone. I was really surprised when Meg and the others stumbled into his lair while he was still putting on the black cloak. And because he had no escape, he simply walked over to his bed and stood there, seemingly resigning himself to being captured. Boy, was I shocked when Meg moved backwards with the black cloak, then revealed that no one was wearing it anymore. And how she handed the mask to a police man? I don't know, I just really liked that detail.

Seeing Phantom live was possibly one of the greatest experiences of my life and I'm so thankful and grateful that I got to have this incredible chance. It's something that I'll remember forever and even if I see it live again, this first time will always hold a very special place in my heart.

[johnjohnkook]

Don’t Go // MiniCat

WARNINGS: MPREG (IF YOU’RE NOT OKAY WITH IT, DON’T READ.)

***THIS IS ONLY PART ONE. IF YOU LIKE THIS, LET ME KNOW, AND I’LL WRITE A SECOND PART. ENJOY (:

Craig’s head was pounding. 

He can’t even remember anything last night. His vision was blurred and he assumed he was suffering a massive hangover. He searched for his phone, pressing the power button. The screen lit up, blinding his already blurred vision. He figured he should look for his glasses just so his eyes wouldn’t be completely useless. 

He patted the table near him, unintentionally slamming his wrist against the corner of the table. “Fuck,” he breathed, his throat throbbing. A groan erupted from the other side of the room and Craig realized he wasn’t alone. 

Craig also realized that he was naked. Naked and not alone.

He reached for his glasses again, surprisingly finding them and putting them on his face. He rolled over to see none other than his best bud Tyler, naked from the waist up and presumably naked under the sheet covering his waist.

Holy. Fuck.

He furrowed his eyebrows, trying to figure out what happened the night before. His mind raising, Craig glanced back over at the sleeping figure. His arm was thrown over his eyes, his chest rising up and down with his breaths. 

How did he end up in this situation? How did he allow himself to have sex with his best friend? Why doesn’t he remember anything?

Tyler muttered something, causing Craig to look over at him. Tyler hurriedly threw the comforter off of him, got out of bed, and ran out of the room and into his bathroom suite. Craig squeezed his eyes shut, wishing he could just disappear into nothingness.

Once Tyler returned, he had a pair of boxers on. He didn’t seem to notice Craig and once he did, he stopped in his tracks. His eyes were wide.

“Did we--?” he inquired, staring at Craig in utter shock.

“Well, we both woke up naked in the same bed, so I’d assume so,” Craig answered, quickly sucking his bottom lip between his teeth.

“Fuckin’ hell,” Tyler muttered, running a hand through his hair. Craig reached down without exposing his junk to pick up his boxers. He picked them up and looked at Tyler. Tyler sighed, turning around so Craig could get up and put the boxers on. His ass was throbbing. 

After he pulled his boxer briefs up, he told Tyler it was clear and Tyler spun back around. “So what now?” Tyler asked, furrowing his eyebrows.

“I honestly have no fucking clue,” Craig answered, adjusting his glasses on his nose. He limped over to pick up the rest of his clothes and Tyler raised his eyebrows and was secretly glad he wasn’t the one who got a dick up the ass. 

“Are you okay?” Tyler asked because Craig was still his best friend, even if they had sex they don’t even remember having. 

“Yeah,” Craig answered, slipping on his shirt. He realized Tyler was referring to his limping, “The hangover’s bothering me more.”

“I’ve got some painkillers in the kitchen, bud,” Tyler offered, “and some coffee because I know how you like the bean.”

Craig smiled. Maybe last night won’t change them after all.

It’s been about two weeks since that day, and Craig was awoken by the urge to vomit. He ran quickly into the bathroom and let it all out into the toilet. He thought that since it was getting colder, maybe the weather change was giving him a cold. Or maybe sinus drainage was the culprit. 

He quickly brushed his teeth and continued his morning routine since it was eighty thirty anyways, and he needed to hit the gym.

He felt pretty great until the body odor of the workout section of the gym made him feel sick again. He dropped his stuff on a nearby bench and ran towards the nearest bathroom. Craig thought that was unusual because yes, body odor bothered him but never enough to make him nauseous. 

He was also feeling a little dizzy. He shrugged it off, popping a peppermint into his mouth and began his workout, trying to ignore the smells.

Craig was hungry, more so than usual. I mean, Craig eats a lot for someone buff, but nothing seemed to fill him up. On his way back home, he went into the drive-through of a fast food restaurant and ordered as much as he could afford. 

He parked to munch out and he was full until he made it back home. He was afraid. He thought that maybe he was getting a virus or something more than just a cold. He called Tyler, but of course, it went straight to voicemail so he called the next person he could think of.

“Yeah?” Brian’s voice rang through the other line, “What do ya want, Craig-o?”

“Brian, I’m sorry, I didn’t know who else to call,” he laughed nervously, “Um, I need advice.”

“Fire away.”

“So this morning, I had this feeling of nauseous when I woke up, and I’ve puked twice in two hours, and I’m constantly hungry. I’m curious and kind of afraid because I’ve never experienced so many symptoms in a day.”

“You sound like a pregnant lady, dude,” Brian joked, laughing.

“That’s impossible,” Craig replied, even though he knew he was only joking, “I’m serious, Brian, what do I do?”

“Call a doctor,” Brian responded seriously, “Whatever ya have, it sounds bizarre and maybe you can get some prescription.”

“Thanks,” Craig responded, quickly hanging up and searching his contacts for his doctor’s office’s phone number.

A few days later, Craig had an appointment with his doctor Brock--he preferred to be called by his first name. 

“Hey, Craig, what seems to be the problem?” Brock smiled at him, checking Craig’s chart.

“Well, Doctor, I don’t really know how to explain it,” Craig said, biting his lip.

“Do the best you can,” Brock assured, smiling at him.

“I’ve been feeling really nauseous at smells, foods, like I have a weak stomach, which I’ve never had experienced before, and I’ve also been like excessively hungry,” Craig paused, watching Brock type something into his laptop, “and I’ve also felt dizzy after I vomit, and most of the time before I even feel nauseous.” Brock furrowed his eyebrows and continued typing. “At first, I thought I was sick, but now, I don’t know.”

“You’re right, this is very strange,” Brock said,  looking back over at Craig.

Craig only nodded.

Brock furrowed his eyebrows as he read off the laptop screen, “Are you sleeping well at night?” He looked over at Craig again, awaiting an answer.

“No, not recently,” Craig answered softly.

Brock hummed, typing something into his computer.

“Constantly needing to use the bathroom?”

“Yes,” answered Craig.

Brock typed once more into the laptop before standing up from his stool and walking over towards the patient bed where Craig was sitting.

“Do you mind if we take a urine sample from you?” Brock asked professionally slipping on his blue latex gloves.

“Not at all. Whatever will help you figure out what’s wrong,” Craig replied, adjusting his glasses on his nose.

Brock brought two latex-covered fingers to his stomach, pressing gently before taking the stethoscope from around his neck. He pressed the end to Craig’s chest, listening intently. After he finished checking his heart, he checked his blood pressure.

“It’s a little higher than usual,” Brock spoke, furrowing his eyebrows once again before pulling the velcro cuff off his bicep. He handed the patient a urine cup. “Do you need to go?” Brock asked and Craig nodded. 

“Restroom is two doors down on the left. Fill it at least halfway, and bring it back to me in here once you’ve finished,” Brock instructed, smiling at him. Craig nodded obediently before heading out of the room. He returned about two minutes later and handed the doctor.

There was a nurse in the room now. She looked to be about forty. Her blonde-almost gray hair was up in a ponytail and her bluish purple scrubs looked a bit big on her. “Miss Carol, bring this to Vicky, please. Tell her it needs to go to NSLR,” he requested and she nodded. Her latex-covered hands picked up the cup halfway full with urine out of the room. 

Brock pulled off his latex gloves, typing away at his computer again. “Craig, all I can say to do now is to be patient and wait for the results. Try to rest up because hopefully, that should bring the symptoms down. We should have results tomorrow afternoon and if not, Monday morning,” Brock instructed, giving Craig a polite smile.

“Thank you,” Craig told him, hopping off the patient bed and grabbing his jacket.

“It’s my job.” Brock smiled.

It wasn’t until Monday when Craig got the results. Brock had called him himself instead of his receptionist. 

“Hey, Craig.” His tone triggered a nervous tremble out of Craig. “It appears you have a problem. Now, don’t worry, there may have been issues with the lab report, but I think you ought to come down here to hear this for yourself. My last appointment is at four, but I will allow you to come without an appointment under the circumstances.”

Craig was scared now, more scared than he was before. Even Brock didn’t seem to know what exactly is wrong, and he’s a professional. 

At four thirty, Craig left his home and drove the thirteen-minute drive to his medical care center. When he entered the building, the receptionist was on the phone. She looked at Craig and just pointed to the entrance door that led into the doctors’ hallway. Brock wasn’t the alone doctor there, just like Carol wasn’t the only nurse. One day when Brock was under the weather and wasn’t able to work the day Craig had a checkup, a doctor by the name of David Nolan took Brock’s appointments for that day, so no one had to reschedule.

Brock was standing in front of nurse Carol’s desk, seeming to be deeply conversating with her. He noticed Craig, their attention both turning on him.

“Come with me,” Brock instructed gently, walking down a hallway. He led Craig to the unfamiliar room. 

“The reason this was so urgent is because what you have I have never seen before,” Brock explained, hooking up a cord to his laptop. It lit up a small projector hanging from the ceiling. Craig sat in a chair just as uncomfortable as the waiting room ones. “This-This is the organs of a man in the ages between 20-45.” A chart with different organ names popped up. “These are all male organs, of course.” Craig nodded in understanding, scanning through the scientific names, trying to find one that sounded familiar.

“You may know the male anatomy since you are a male, yes?” Brock asked and Craig nodded. “Good because take a look at this.” An image popped up of another chart of simple male organs with their simplified names and Craig knew what almost all of them were male organs, except for two. “Uh, Brock, there are some female reproductive organs in there,” Craig pointed out.

“Yes, I am aware, Craig. This is your chart.”

Craig furrowed his eyebrows. “What?”

“It sounds impossible, and I swore it was, but the results are that you are pregnant.” Brock pulled up the lab report from the urinal test.

Craig felt nauseous again. 

[thelibraryfanfiction]

Chapter Seven

On the fifth of June, fifty people squeezed into the registration office upstairs from the Library where I worked to see James and Craig get married.

I ended up wearing a pale pink dress that fell just below my knees. It had a ‘v’ shaped neck and loose sleeves that fell just above my elbow. It had a dotted pattern around the sleeves and neckline before the skirt turned into a lace pattern. I paired it with some strappy white heels. The whole ensemble was purchased from ASOS.

My hair was being utterly impossible so I left it out and because of the colour of the dress, I decided to keep my make-up light and simple.

I stood up the front of the hall with Barbara, who was acting as my date and James’s roommate Mia, who had taken a girl named Chess, from her work, as her date. We all made jokes about the fact that we were all single and had taken our friends as dates for a wedding as we waited for the grooms to arrive.

Even though I wasn’t looking for him, I spotted Ian immediately, standing at the back of the hall looking extremely handsome in dark pants and a white, button down shirt. I took advantage of the fact that he hadn’t seen me yet and stared at him with open adoration.

Unfortunately, Barbara noticed my preoccupation and had to comment, “Oh, so that’s him is it?”

“Who?” I asked, tearing my eyes away from him reluctantly.

“Ian Harding. Mr. Ezra Fitz himself. Your prince charming.” She smiled.

I couldn’t help but blush.

“Who are we talking about?” asked Chess curiously.

“Ian Harding. He’s been coming into the library for years and Clara has a crush on him.” Said Barbara in a slightly smug tone.

“I do not.” I defended.

“I can see why. He’s gorgeous!” hissed Chess.

“As a rule, I tend not to date celebrities.” Said Mia simply.

I smiled in amusement. She had to be joking right? Who on earth would turn down a guy like Ian just because he was a celebrity? Most people would think that the celebrity status made a person more attractive. Not me though. Or at least, not with Ian.

What had started as a simple celebrity crush had turned into something more when I got to know him.  

“I don’t have that rule.” Scoffed Chess as she craned her neck to get a better look at Ian.

“You should totally make a move on him at the reception.” Said Barbara.

“What? Why?” I asked, frowning in confusion. I had not ‘made a move’ on Ian for the last two and a half years. What made she think I was going to do so now?

“Because we’re at a wedding! Love is in the air. Weddings are like catnip for single people. We see all the love and we want that. Makes us more susceptible for romantic propositions.” She explained.

“She’s got a point there.” Said Mia, “I once hooked up with a guy at a wedding. So not my type. But there was something about the wedding and seeing the bride and groom so in love that I was just like ‘hey, why not?’”

“You were also trying to get over your ex-boyfriend.” Said Chess pointedly.

“Bite me.” Replied Mia.

“See?” encouraged Barbara, “Tonight’s the night. I say you go for it.”

But before I had a chance to reply, the music started and I recognized the opening chords of ‘All I Ask of You’ from the Phantom of the Opera musical. I wasn’t big on musicals but Barbara was and she was the only reason I recognised the song.

Craig stepped into the hall, wearing an all-black suit with a white bow-tie, his arm threaded through that of a pudgy looking man who I took to be his father.

Right behind him was James, wearing an all-white suite with a black bow-tie, a smile so big it seemed to barely fit on his face, as his father walked him down the aisle.

As the two of them stood in front of the celebrant, declaring their love for each other before they placed rings on each other’s fingers, I began to realize that Mia was right; love was in the air and it was contagious.

I wanted so desperately for a guy to look at me the way Craig looked at James. And I wanted that guy to be Ian. I wanted to look at him the way James looked at Craig and know that the love I felt was returned.

I knew right then that it was love. What James and Craig described that they felt for one another was exactly how I felt about Ian.

But did I really have the courage to make a move on him tonight? To tell him how I felt?

I was so caught up in my own thoughts that I almost missed the best part of the whole wedding.

“I know pronounce you husband and husband. You may now kiss your husband.” Said the celebrant.

At that, James threw his arms around Craig’s neck and kissed him both passionately and theatrically, throwing his foot up in the air for effect that made everyone laugh as we all clapped and cheered before everyone made their way across the hall to the reception room, which was typically a meeting room.

There were tea and coffee facilities and an array of biscuits, complete with a wedding cake that had two little grooms on top of it.

Instead of throwing bouquets and garters, the boys threw their bow-ties. I caught one, being the tallest girl there and a friend of Craig’s caught the other.

I watched as the boys cut the cake and then proceeded to smash it into one another’s faces. Then as the cake was being cut into slices for the guests, Craig and James took to the little improvised dance floor and shared their first dance as a married couple to the song ‘Can You Feel the Love Tonight’ from the Lion King. Even I knew that song.

There were several points throughout the night that I contemplated going over to talk to Ian, but every time I did, I would take one look at how handsome he was and loose all my self-confidence.  On the off chance that I did work up the nerve to go and talk to him, he was nearly always talking to someone else and most of them were girls. Not Barbara, Mia or Chess, who knew how I felt about Ian, but other girls who were all far more attractive than me and obviously flirting with Ian.

I was just digging into my cake with a little plastic spoon, trying to think of a way to casually approach Ian when he took the decision out of my hands and approached me.

“Lovely ceremony.” Said a familiar voice.

The spoon froze halfway between my mouth and the bowl in my hand and I turned to see Ian standing next to me, his hands clasped behind his back as he stared at me with an amused smile.

If I had thought he looked handsome from afar, that was nothing compared to how he looked up close. His freshly shaven cheeks gleamed under the lights, high lighting the dimple in his chin. His hair was slicked back and styled, giving me a perfect, uninterrupted view of his blue-grey eyes.

And worst of all, he was wearing an aftershave that smelled absolutely amazing.

Realizing I was staring, I tried to school my features into something that resembled a normal human expression and attempted to speak, “Yes. Very lovely.”

“Saw you caught the bow-tie.” He said, gesturing to the accessory I had tied around my wrist, “Nice catch.” He commented.

“Well, being this tall has to be good for something.” I shrugged, “Snatching things out of the air…”

“Reaching the top shelf.” He supplied.

“Blocking peoples views in movie theatres.” I added.

“And best of all, being able to go on all the rides.” He smiled.

I threw my head back and laughed in amusement.

“How’s the cake?” he asked after a moment.

“Delicious.” I told him as I spooned a mouthful into my mouth, it was red velvet with cream cheese icing, my favourite, “You want some?” I asked through a mouthful of cake.

It only occurred to me after I was done speaking how disgusting I must have looked, speaking with a mouth full of food. But I couldn’t help it. Whenever I was with Ian, all my defences were down and I acted just a little too naturally, I was so comfortable with him.

“Sure.” He smiled.

Slicing off a section with my spoon, I made to hand him the bowl but instead he leaned forward and wrapped his lips around the spoon I was still holding. I watched the way his perfect lips closed around the mouthful of food and I found myself wondering what it would be like to kiss him…

But movement from behind his shoulder made me tear my eyes away from his lips to see James, giving me a massive thumbs up before making kissing faces.

My eyes widened as I pleaded for him, with my eyes, to stop what he was doing encase Ian saw, but he straightened up and cut him from my view and I schooled my features back into a pleasant smile.

“It’s good.” He said.

I nodded, “It’s good for an imitation of red velvet.”

“An imitation?” he asked.

“Real red velvet has beetroot juice in it. That’s how it gets its colour.” I explained.

“Why on earth do you know that?” he asked.

“I bake a lot.” I shrugged as I turned my attention back to the cake, but I suddenly had no appetite for it. Ian was standing so close to me I could hardly think straight.

“Is that what you do in your spare time? Bake?” he asked curiously.

“Sometimes. Other times I read.” I replied.

“You don’t get enough of books at your job?” he smiled.

“Never.” I smiled.

He laughed and I felt my insides warm at the sound as I stabbed at my piece of cake just to hide the goofy smile I knew was on my face.

“So what’s your favourite?” he asked suddenly.

I frowned as I turned to look at him, “What?”

“What’s your favourite book?”

“Oh god, that’s too hard a question.”

“How is that a hard question?”

“It just is!” I told him seriously, “How would you feel if I asked you to tell me who your favourite child was?”

“That’s easy. Its Maggie. She’s the only one I’ve got.” He said immediately.

He had me there.

“Yeah but imagine if you had hundreds of Maggie’s, how would you choose your favourite?” I argued.

“Are they all carbon copies of Maggie? Or would they be different? Because if we’re comparing children to books, they would all have to be different.” He said.

“Fine, they are all different. They are all different facets of Maggie’s personality. Which one do you choose?” I asked.

“Excited Maggie.” He said.

“Why?”

“Because I will never forget the way she looked on her birthday, seeing all these presents for her. She looked so excited that she just kept breathing in and forgot to breathe out. She actually passed out.” He told me.

“Oh my god, that’s horrible!” I said, feeling vaguely horrified.

“No it wasn’t. It was the cutest thing I had ever seen.” He said simply, “When was the last time you got so excited about something that you forgot how to breathe?”

“Um…” I said thoughtfully, I couldn’t quite remember a time when I had ever been that excited, even as a kid.

“Now associate that feeling with a book and tell me which one it is.” He said.

“Ok, got it.” I said, picturing the book clearly in my mind.

“Right, now show me that book.” He said seriously.

I blinked in shock, show him the book? When? He didn’t mean now did he? We were in the middle of a reception.

“Right now?” I asked in disbelief.

“Right now.” He replied.

There was something about the way he said it that sounded like a challenge to me. As if he didn’t believe that I would get up and show him my favourite book. What he may have guessed about me was that the moment people told me, or even implied, that I wasn’t capable or wouldn’t do something, I immediately did it.

Setting my bowl of cake down, I squared my shoulders and held my head high as I walked out the door with him trailing along, seeming quite smug, behind me.

Heading down stairs, my heels clanking as I descended the steps, I walked down the hallway, not bothering to check if he was following me, to the library and opened the door. The moment I entered the library I was filled with an instant confidence that came from being in a place that I was so comfortable in and knew so well.

Not even bothering to look at the numbers of the dewy decimal system or find the correct letter for the authors last name, I came to the shelf where I knew the book was and stretched up on the tips of my toes, grabbing it from the top shelf.

Without a word, I spun around, finding him a little closer than I originally thought he was, I presented him with my favourite book.

“Alice in Wonderland.” He read as he looked down at the book.

I nodded, “Have you read it before?” I asked.

“No actually. Seen the movie.” He said before he looked up at me, seeing my expression he smiled knowingly, “Yes, books are better than the movie. I get it.”

I smiled, liking the fact that he knew me so well, “Well take that one. Have a read of it and let me know what you think.” I smiled.

He looked down at the book, seeming hesitant, “I probably shouldn’t. I’m pretty busy these days. I won’t get time to read it.”

“Hey, I’m in charge here.” I began, trying to sound bossy, “I’ll just give it to you.”

He smiled as he made to take the book from me, but I pulled it away playfully.

“Actually, I’m just going to lend it to you.” I qualified.

“Why?” he asked curiously.

“That way he have to return it to me. And you can tell me in person what you thought of it.” I told him seriously before I offered him the book.

He smiled a surprisingly sad smile that didn’t reach his eyes as he took the book from my hands and leaned his back against the bookshelf. I leaned my shoulder into the shelf, mimicking his position as I watched him stare down at the book in his hands. He seemed to be deep in thought and I had no desire to break him out of his revere.

“You know,” he began as he turned his head to look at me, his blue-grey eyes meeting mine.

He was so close now that I felt my breath catch in my throat.

“Even if I didn’t want to borrow anymore books, I’d still find a reason to come and see you.” He said softly.

A bubble of excited happiness swelled inside of me. I couldn’t remember how long I had been dreaming he’d say something like that to me. But hearing the words actually fall from their mouth and believing they were true was far better than anything my feeble imagination could conjure up. I was so happy that a smile stretched itself out onto my face before I could stop it.

Seeing me smile, he smiled back in response. Though there was something incredibly sad about the way that he smiled, it was as if he was looking back on his life and seeing everything he regretted as he stared at me…

But before I could ponder the strange look that came onto his face, he shifted his body weight and his eyes flickered down to my lips.

I knew what was going to happen, but it still surprised me when he edged his face closer to mine, so slowly it was practically torturous. I could feel his warm breath on my face and I knew he was taking his time to give me plenty of opportunity to move away but I didn’t.

My heart was beating so hard I thought it might jump out of my chest, my whole body tingled with excitement and anticipation. I waited until he closed his eyes before I closed mine and he softly pressed his lips to mine.

It was everything I wanted a kiss from him to be like; soft, chaste and unbearably sweet.

I felt his hand come up to cup the side of my face tenderly and I parted my lips, hoping to deepen the kiss when suddenly the door to the library was pushed open and an eruption of voices sounded, the most loud of which being a very drunk James.

The two of us pulled away from one another as if we had been electrocuted and I turned to see James leading his parents, Craig’s parents and Craig through the library.

“And here is where it all happened!” he declared, “Right here!” he said as he pointed to a spot over by the bookcases, “That is where we first met.”

Unsure of what else to do, or if they had even spotted us yet, I stood absolutely frozen. Ian seemed at a similar loss at what to do as he stared at James as well.

It was then that James seemed to notice us and he stopped his impromptu tour, “Oh, hello you two. What are you doing down here?” he asked happily.

Ian opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. I could already see a blush creeping up his neck and the tips of his ears were already red.

“Just borrowing a book.” I lied smoothly.

James’s eyes narrowed suspiciously as he glared at me.

“Come on!” giggled Craig as he tugged on James’s hand, “Lets show them the book you tried to recommend me.”

James allowed himself to be tugged away, but his eyes stayed on me until he was out of sight and his group followed after him.

I turned to Ian, whose complexion now resembled that of a tomato and I couldn’t help the embarrassed, yet still deliriously happy, giggle that escaped my mouth.

I had just been caught making out with Ian Harding in a library. Something about just how unlikely that sentence sounded made me giggle. I wasn’t embarrassed, it was a little awkward, sure, but I had caught James doing far worse in this library. It didn’t bother me that he might have seen us, it did however bother me that he had interrupted us.

Knowing the romantic mood between us had been spoiled and that Ian was very thoroughly embarrassed, I decided to take control of the situation to make him feel better, I myself was just so happy, “Come on. I’ll scan the book out for you.”

He nodded his head, I wasn’t quite sure if he could speak in that moment.

My heels clacked along the wooden floor as I walked behind the reception desk. Out of laziness, James and myself never turned off the computers because they were so old it took them forever to reboot when we did. Instead we just let them go into hibernation, so it only took a simple wiggle of the mouse to get them firing back up again.

We didn’t speak a word to each other as I scanned the book in, the silence was broken by the sound of giggles and chattering from James’s tour.

I watched Ian from the corner of my eye as I typed his name into the computer. I could feel him watching every move I made. Despite how awkward things had been before, this was familiar territory for the two of us; him borrowing a book and me scanning it in. We had done this dozens of times but for some reason, it suddenly felt new and exciting.

Placing the book on the counter for him, I smiled.

He smiled back as he took the book, “I’ll try and finish it quickly.” He said.

Though it was a generic enough statement, given what he had previously said to me, I knew it meant that he was going to try and read it quickly so he could come back and see me so much sooner.

My smile, if it was possible, got even bigger as he headed off towards the door.

Just before he stepped outside, he looked over his shoulder at me, once again that strangely sad smile adorned his features and I couldn’t place why, but I had the sudden urge to stop him from leaving. To demand to know what was making him smile so sadly and what I could possibly do to help.

But before I could do anything, he disappeared out the door and I was left staring after him wistfully.

                                               …

“What do you mean you just kissed?” demanded Barbara as we shared an uber home.

“I mean we kissed and it was beautiful.” I smiled.

“But there was no admission of feelings? No setting a date? No exchanging of numbers? Nothing?!” she asked incredulously.

I shook my head.

“But he said he comes in for you not the books. That sort of like telling you how he feels I guess…” she trailed off.

I simply smiled, too deliriously happy to do anything else.  

“Well that just plain sucks.” She pouted.

But it didn’t. Not really.

I was happy with how the night had turned out. Even if she wasn’t.

“But you didn’t tell him how you felt did you?” she asked.

“No.”

“That’s a problem.”

“Why?”

“Well, what if he thinks you don’t like him and he’s too cowardly to face you ever again because he thinks you’ve friend zoned him?” she asked.

My face fell, “No. He wouldn’t think that…” I said, though I wasn’t so certain.

She raised an interesting point. Ian had said how he felt about me, but I had never said or done anything to indicate to him how I felt about him. I thought I had always been so obvious in my affection for him. Surely he knew, didn’t he?

Would that be a problem later on?

I’d have to wait until he returned the book to find out.

                                            …

A month later, James was on his honeymoon and Ian was officially two weeks late in delivering back the book.

The computer had even sent him an automatic ‘overdue’ email. But he still hadn’t showed.

Was Barbara right? Was he avoiding me now because he thought I didn’t feel the same way about him?

I drove myself crazy thinking about it. Finally I caved and called James, who was all the way in Queensland, Australia, to talk about it.

“Aloha,” he answered happily.

“You’re in Queensland, not Hawaii.” I told him immediately.

“If you’re here to harsh my buzz, I’m going to hang up this phone right now.” He said in a sing song voice.

“No, don’t hang up!” I said immediately, a panic fluttering through me.

“What’s going on?” he asked.

“It’s Ian. He’s totally disappeared on me. It’s been over a month. Why do you think he hasn’t been by?” I asked.

“He’s probably busy with work.” He soothed, “Have you tried calling him?”

“I don’t have his number.” I grumbled.

“Urgh,” he groaned, “You guys are taking the whole ‘hard to get’ thing to a whole new level.” He commented.

I sighed deeply, he had a point.

“How many years have you been doing this now? Next time, I will ask him for his number for you.” He said pointedly.

“No, don’t do that.” I sighed before my voice suddenly grew firm, “I’ve decided next time he comes in I’m going to tell him how I feel.”

“Good for you!”

Yes, it was going to be good for me. If Ian ever decided to show up at the library again.

                                              …

It was almost exactly two months since I had seen Ian last and I was getting extremely worried. Why hadn’t he come by?

If he was avoiding me, that was understandable if he thought that I didn’t feel the same way about him or even worse he regretted kissing me and thought it was a mistake.

But it wasn’t like him to borrow a book and not return it. If he was worried about seeing me, he could just put it in the after hours slot. At least then I would know if he was avoiding me or not.

The not knowing and the waiting around was absolutely killing me.

“Stop watching the door woman! My god.” Said James one day as we sat at the reception desk.

I had taken to leaning against the counter top and watching the door, as if by watching it so intently I could somehow make Ian appear. My heart leapt into my throat every time the door opened, only to have it crushed when it turned out to be just another patron and not him.

“I can’t help it.” I sighed as I tore my eyes away from the door to look at him, “Its been ages. Why hasn’t he come by?”

“I can literally compose a list of reasons. Do you want to hear them?” he asked pointedly.

“No.” I grumbled as I went back to looking at the door.

He proceeded to list them anyway; “He could have had a family emergency back in America. He could have gotten a new acting job and is busy learning his lines. He could have been struck by lightning…”

His reasons were not making me feel better and I continued to stare at the door.

“Maggie could be sick and he’s looking after her. He could have won the lottery. He could have broken both his legs…”

The door to the library opened and I straightened up as my stomach clenched and my heart leapt into my throat as a man stepped through the door and…

It wasn’t Ian but some older, stuffy looking gentleman wearing a suit.

I audibly groaned and turned to look at James who was still chattering away, “He could have gotten a really bad haircut and doesn’t want to show people…”

I shook my head. None of the reasons he was listing seemed plausible or good enough reasons for him to have not come into the library to see me.

“Excuse me, I’m looking for Clara? She apparently works here.” Interrupted a voice from behind me.

I turned around to see the stuffy looking man from before was standing on the other side of the counter.

“That would be me.” I said, my smile not entirely genuine.

“I’m here to return this book and give you this.” He said as he placed a book on the counter and a small torch.

At first my eyes were drawn to the small torch, it was the size of a black marker and I could see had a little button to press to turn it on, but why on earth would someone give me a torch? Especially one that had a blue light?

But then I saw the book. One that I recognized instantly; Alice in Wonderland.

I turned to look at the man again in confusion, forgetting all my politeness and customer service training, I asked the question that had been on my mind for the past two months, “Where’s Ian?”

The man looked uncomfortable for a moment before he sighed, “I’m sorry to be the one to tell you but, Ian died last week.”

[blame-canada]

Tassels - Tweek / Creek

The CMV Mutation Pandemic swept across the globe so quickly, society as they knew it was doomed to fall. While the world came crashing down around them, Craig and Tweek tried their best to survive, and to love endlessly, in spite of it.

Hey guys, back again with another little snippet of time from the Halfway universe for the Quarter Rests miniseries! This time it’s Tweek’s POV after falling ill. It is also a fill for the prompt ‘Scarf’ for the November 2017 South Park Drabble Bomb. Read it on AO3 here. Hope you enjoy!

There were tassels on it, Tweek could remember.

There wasn’t much that he could recall, with a brain so scrambled one could have it with breakfast, but tassels, they were there. In the memory, that was.

Sometimes, it was the most insignificant things that would pop into his head. Lunch would come around and he’d remember his mother’s cell phone number, or he’d shut out his lamp and remember that he kissed Craig three times on their first date. They were odd facts, things to consider equivalent to the spare buttons discarded in a drawer, but the desk itself was nearly bare.

He didn’t like them. In a way, Tweek felt he’d much rather forget everything than have to remember little bits and pieces of a life that felt so distant but looked so recent in the eyes of his saddened, burdened loved ones. He hated to see pain in those eyes, the ones he had memorized but still noticed new things about, except he wasn’t sure if they were new or simply forgotten. Tweek knew his head was running on empty, sputtering through its last few drops of gasoline until he started to burn up the engine, and soon he would explode, surely.

For now, though, the image of this deep navy blue scarf blinded his focus. It was blue, yes, but was there perhaps some yellow too? Tweek couldn’t remember.

Craig was there for lunch again. He seemed to come less lately, and Tweek wished he would just say why instead of making him stew in the truth without confirmation of his insecurities. The voice in the back of his head seared his skull with the fact that Craig just couldn’t bear to come as much as before because his lacking memory made it painful to witness. Tweek knew that, understood that, but wished Craig would just admit that it was the reason instead of pull something false like the ever present ‘too much work’ excuse. What work could he be doing besides cleaning the shop? Was it the shop he worked for now?

Sometimes Tweek felt as though he was tilting on the axis of one universe with visions of another on the other side that he could only glance at in passing. He wasn’t always sure he was in the right universe. When he tried to guess, he mostly got disappointed, disconnected eye contact, which only stayed for a moment of raw emotion before either glancing away or returning to their steely resolve to be strong. Being strong was such a strange concept to adopt as a bystander, Tweek thought, because how exactly were they being strong? All they needed was the decency to not look as though they were staring a ghost in the face, a shell of a man they once knew, but he knew that was impossible for most. The only people who looked at him least like that (because sometimes even they failed) were his mother and Craig, and his mother hadn’t been well enough to visit in months.

Oh, that scarf- it had lovely, bouncy little tassels, but what color, what color?

“You’re such a mess,” Craig teased, and if Tweek didn’t know better he would have responded with Yes, I am, I know, but Craig wasn’t so cruel as to make those generalizations out loud. He licked his thumb and brushed it at the edge of Tweek’s left cheekbone, where he’d accidentally swiped a swatch of paints without noticing earlier. Ah, it made sense then, of course, though he was a mess in that sense too. He wished he would just say it.

“Say what?” Craig asked, and Tweek realized he’d said it out loud, and now he had a husband staring at him expectantly, a little nervously, who needed explanation for his delusions.

“I’m a mess,” he insisted, and Craig’s eyes got sad, the way he thought Tweek wouldn’t notice, but he’d known and loved him over a decade, and no amount of memory loss could erase that particular skill.

“You’re not,” Craig said, and Tweek politely, silently disagreed.

When he left, Tweek watched him go all the way until his door finally swung shut on him, a few steps before he took a left turn back to the lab, as usual. There were some things Tweek remembered, like that, which he couldn’t explain or justify. He knew which way Craig came around the corner, but didn’t know many other, more important things. He sometimes wished this virus would hurry up and drag him to hell already. Maybe then his family could find some peace for once.

A nurse stepped into his room with a cart of medication and lotion and Tweek remembered blue tassels, but not what they were on. What had blue tassels? There was yellow, too, somewhere in his mind, like a sunburst amongst a sapphire sea. He remembered light, fluffy snowflakes sticking to yellow yarn.

A hat, he recalled, proudly and happily, it was a hat! The hat he wore in elementary school, so long ago that it was when they first became friends, and it was such an ancient memory that it was rather impressive, really. It had such a funny poof ball at the top that was so top heavy it started to flatten into more of a pancake than a ball the longer he owned it. Craig loved that hat so much. The memory made Tweek smile.

As the sun went to sleep and the stars began to blink to life in the twilight, Tweek nodded off in an early evening nap. He daydreamed so much lately, about life as it was, as it could have been, but mostly of what his husband was doing. Was he happy? Was he healthy? There was only so much he could do chained to a hospital bed and not knowing for certain made him anxious at times. He wanted to know he was safe where his forgetful brain could not do the same. Tweek knew that the more he forgot, the less he was a safe place for Craig to go, and it shattered him.

There was still a smudge of paint on his hand that he tried to rub off but struggled with. He scraped at it with his thumb and admired its midnight blue, how lovely it looked in the sunset that haloed his room. It breathed warmth into his mural so that its dark tones hardly felt dark, but still held the same richness. It was a lovely blue.

A scarf, Tweek recalled; there was a scarf the same soft blue as this one. It matched an old hat he’d long retired after he grew too big to fit it on his head. That dark blue would always remind him of Craig. It had hints of yellow, too, just like the chullo he’d worn through sixth grade, long before they were in love.

Were there tassels, though? Tweek couldn’t remember.

[blame-canada]

Quarter Rests: Fade

The CMV Mutation Pandemic swept across the globe so quickly, society as they knew it was doomed to fall. While the world came crashing down around them, Craig and Tweek tried their best to survive, and to love endlessly, in spite of it.

Hello friends! For the September 2017 South Park Drabble Bomb, I’ve decided to use all five prompts to write for the Halfway universe- which means everything here is canon to that fanfiction and its timeline! I hope you’ll tune in to catch a few little tidbits here and there about this universe I’ve lovingly crafted into my own. Link to the fic on AO3 here!

Warnings for this chapter: description of character death, and it’s also kinda long. Thank you for your patience if you’re forced to scroll past this!

Chapter Three: Fade

Laura could remember vividly the last moments of her mother’s life. It was peaceful, in a small hospice room surrounded by her brother and his eldest kids (Craig had been too young at the time), and a small picture frame on her bedside table that acted as a stand-in for her late husband- her father. She was asleep for the majority of her last hours, which was likely for the best. When she passed, it was with hardly a whisper. They had wept together and gone home.

This was nothing like those memories.

Instead of peace and warmth, the room was positively assaulted with the stench of panic, desperation, and dread. There was shouting and crying and constant bustling of nurses and doctors in and out, but with always at least one person in the room. They were waiting for death, she could tell, but not in the gentle way they had done for her mother. It could be silently agreed upon that it was not properly his time to rest.

She was wailing in the corner of the room. Again, Laura was reminded of her own experiences with death, and more specifically the passing of her father. Her mother had been upset, weepy and exhausted, but resigned. She had seemed a little more ready. Helen had not been given that chance.

Worse yet, she was alone.

Tweek was lying in the next room over. He was in better shape than his father, but not by much, and though Craig was notoriously good at keeping calm, the wild in his eyes told Laura that her baby was most certainly not calm. Her chest ached, knowing that his family was falling apart; although she cared very much for her relatives by marriage, it was simply not the same as if both her husband and her father-in-law were to grow seriously ill. She knew it must be torturous, though even moreso for the woman being ignored as she fell apart in a room full of helpless hospital personnel.

In a sudden moment of clarity, Richard stirred, his sunken eyes splitting open just enough to catch his pupils darting back and forth. Helen surged forward, and several nurses jolted forward to grab at her. However, they all paused before doing so, sharing looks of grave mutual understanding, and one of them reinforced the importance of her carefulness around the machines that were currently keeping him alive. Otherwise, they let her go.

“Richard! Oh darling, Rich-” she gasped through a sob “-my love! Can you hear me? Oh darling, my- oh,” she swallowed thickly between near-hyperventilation, and Laura felt her heart aching. Her eyes welled up with tears at the sight, at Helen’s desperate passionate pawing at Richard’s pale cheek, Richard’s tired but attentive eyes, the way Helen’s legs were quaking beneath her. She looked so frightened and frazzled, and nothing at all like the composed, oddly elegant woman Laura had come to know over the years. This was a woman who was watching her life unravel when she had thought herself safe not three days ago.

Richard was struggling to speak. Helen begged them to pull off his oxygen mask, if only for a moment, to be able to hear his words. The nurses cautioned her for the risk it could cause to his health, but she insisted, “I don’t care, I don’t care, oh please,” and once more, they relented. Laura had a strong sinking feeling that they knew a lost cause when they saw one.

Helen pulled the mask delicately from his mouth and let it rest at his chin, leaning forward so that her ear was practically pressed to his lips. Laura saw his lips move, but couldn’t hear his voice. It appeared that Helen did, however, because her eyes widened and she let out a loud hiccup.

“Oh, don’t say that, my love, don’t say that! Oh, I love you too. Don’t say farewells, please,” she pleaded, but Richard’s lips upturned in the most serene smile Laura had ever seen, and he whispered a few more hoarse words into the shell of her ear. Helen sobbed, squeezed her eyes shut, and let her head bear weight over his chest. It moved with the shaky breaths that rattled in her husband’s lungs. “As long as your heart beats, you’ll be alright, darling. Oh, hang on for me, please-”

Before she could finish, Richard’s eyes rolled into the back of his head, and he began to violently seize.

“Richard!” Helen wailed, and the nurses sprung into action. One attempted to wrangle Helen to push her back so that they could work, but she was hardly successful. Laura suddenly knew her purpose quite strongly. She reached forward, and she latched her arms around Helen’s waist.

“No! No!” she cried, but Laura pulled her back with all her strength. Thomas showed up beside her in an instant, and together, they took her by the shoulders and held her in place. Helen clawed at the air in a desperate attempt to get free while Richard seized in the gurney. His vitals caused several different alarms to sound from several different machines. The nurses and doctors were yelling over them, essential information that meant nothing to Laura’s ears. She accidentally made eye contact with one of the nurses, and the chilling look of fear in her eyes made Laura’s stomach drop.

“Helen,” she tried, in her most soothing possible voice, but Helen continued to cry and thrash. “Helen, you need to let the doctors work. They can’t help if they can’t get to him. Helen.”

Thomas, bless his quick thinking and soft heart, reached for Helen’s hand and squeezed it tight, and that was all it took for Helen to stop trying to break free and instead threaten to collapse where she stood in a mess of tears and despair. Laura took her other hand, but kept one arm wrapped around her waist to keep her standing. She sagged in their arms, reduced to broken sobs that somehow managed to ring thunderously over all the machines and quick speaking and movement.

Eventually, Helen became too tired to even try to stand, and with Thomas and Laura’s help, they slowly slid down against the wall of the hospital room, together. Laura did something she hadn’t done since she was sixteen; she prayed. She asked God for forgiveness, for the safe passage of Richard into heaven, and for Tweek’s strength. She asked for help from the deity she had long since forgotten, because no time had ever felt more appropriate to beg to God than now for His guidance. As soon as Helen began to get ahold of herself, the beeping of the machines turned into a long, flat buzz.

She tried to jump to her feet, screaming, but Laura held fast, and so did Thomas. He held out his free hand for Laura to take, and Laura squeezed it so tightly she worried she’d hurt him.

After her first initial outburst, Helen turned strangely robotic. Her eyes were still wide and leaking, but they looked vacant, like she wanted to believe the moment was a dream. The doctors started to slow down. One of them looked over, only his eyes visible under his face shield and above his mask, but they expressed so much that words weren’t needed. Richard was gone, and they had done all they could. Laura’s breath caught in her throat, and she hoped to God that Helen hadn’t seen his pitying, distraught eyes. She wished she hadn’t seen, either.

Laura adjusted her position to Helen’s side, and without a word, she rested her head on Helen’s shoulder, hugging her more gently around the middle with her eyes closed. Thomas kept squeezing her hand. She started to cry noisily again. Eventually, the doctor with the same sad eyes as before walked over to meet them.

“I’m sorry,” he said softly, muffled even further by his face mask, and Helen let out a subdued shriek. Laura tried to calm her by running her fingers through her hair, but it didn’t seem to matter. She supposed that if any coping skill were to fail, it would be in a moment like this, while Helen watched the life fade from her husband’s body.

“Can we have a few moments?” Thomas asked, and Laura was surprised to hear a quaver in his tone, his beady eyes glistening as much as her own. Helen could not be reached, consoling a distant concept, and she doubled over on herself on the dirty floor, only held upright by Laura’s waning hold around her. Her shoulders shook while the doctors filed out per their request, until the room echoed only with the gasping and shaking breaths of their three living bodies.

“Helen,” Laura tried gently, rubbing her back with a massaging palm, “would you like to say goodbye before they take h-”

“Don’t let them take him!” She sat straight up suddenly, her eyes wild and bloodshot beyond belief, and she staggered to her feet. This time, she let her go. “He’s just fine, he’s going to be just- oh, God,” Helen whimpered. She shuffled slowly forward, her breath held and her hand outstretched to cradle his chin.

Richard’s eyes had been closed and his oxygen mask had been removed- likely to make him appear more peaceful in death. Death. It gripped Laura’s heart with ice, and her eyes threatened to spill over at the realization that Richard Tweak was dead. Dead.

“Richard..?” Helen whispered. She very slowly and carefully put her ear to his chest, like she’d done twenty minutes prior. The stillness of the moment was so crushing, knowing that his lungs would no longer expand beneath her loving embrace. Helen stood like that for a long while.

They were stunned from the thick silence of the room when Craig came bursting in. He looked out of breath, but relieved. “He’s gonna be okay, they got the swelling down and-”

He faltered. His eyes put two and two together, Laura saw. Then, when composure settled on his face, his jaw set and his brow determined, he walked up to Helen’s side and began to rub her back. He whispered to her, something Laura couldn’t hear, and she erupted again, collapsing into Craig’s waiting arms and moaning. Craig’s face was softened, but strong, and Laura had never felt so proud of him.

“Thank you, oh, thank you,” Helen was saying between shuddering breaths, and Laura realized that she was not weeping out of despair anymore. “Oh, thank God, thank you,” she gasped, “Thank you for saving my baby,” and Craig hushed her, petting her tangled hair gently as though he was consoling a child. It was only on closer inspection Laura could spot the wetness on his cheeks too; he was mourning for Richard while his mother-in-law thanked the Lord for her son. It suddenly became too much to witness, and Laura looked away. She locked eyes with Thomas, and he embraced her, the warmth of his big arms keeping the chill of the hospital air at bay.

“Come on, Ma,” Craig whispered in Helen’s ear, and she emerged from his shoulder to blink blearily at the room around her, as though she’d forgotten where she was in her hysterics. Craig looked at Thomas, looked at Laura, and they met in the middle.

There, in that vacant hospital room, with the empty vessel of a dear friend, husband, and father-in-law beside them, they held each other tightly. Laura had both Thomas and her son’s hands in her own, and they created a shield with all three of their bodies, as though their barrier could protect Helen from the evils that threatened to eat her alive. Her crying slowed, her sniffling quieted, and with time, she relaxed into their hold. They took turns caring for her, rubbing her back and smoothing down her hair, but kept her close, safe and warm. Laura hoped that if Richard’s soul had yet to leave this room, he would be comforted knowing that his wife was in safe hands.

They migrated to Tweek’s hospital room, where he lay unconscious and hooked up to many of the same machines as his father had. He was alright though, according to the doctor- they were able to alleviate the swelling in his brain before it compromised his health completely, but not without a risky craniectomy. There was a large plastic helmet around his head. His hair would take a while to regrow to its characteristic mane.

Helen did not speak again for seven days. She was silent through every meal, the funeral, the discussions with her and Craig over her son’s health care: everything. Even when her voice returned, it was a whisper, a shell of its former self, meek and frail. She had asked if it was alright to touch her son.

Helen’s voice never truly returned to her. The only time it came closest was one twilight on the back deck that Laura accidentally overheard, where she privately spoke aloud to Richard. She laughed and shared the plots of books and dreams and lived in a temporary fantasy world that Laura couldn’t bring herself to tear away, and so she backed away from the screen door, to begin to cook dinner without her input, and wait for when Helen was ready to return to Earth.