#chaos theory comes out today I can’t wait to watch it tonight!

[spittyfishy]

Sometimes a family is six kids and an ankylosaurus and I think that’s beautiful

[sirius-archive]

Chaos Theory Ch. 17

Pairing: Cedric Diggory x Reader, Harry Potter x Reader, Draco Malfoy x Reader, George Weasley x Reader

Word Count: 3.8k

Warnings: Swearing

A/N: ......bruh. you guys are so patient :') thank you so much for sticking with me even though its taken me AGES to update. Thank you for sending me beautiful messages and commenting and pretty much helping me through my writers block :'( I don't deserve it tbh.

Summary: Harry has just admitted his feelings for you, Snape is teaching you Legilimency, Cedric invited you to spend Easter at his place w his parents!

***

The days that follow an argument are always painfully awkward, to say the least.

You feel like you’re dancing around the mouth of a gaping chasm, watching Harry from the other side. It’s like the summer holidays all over again; the furtive glances, the awkward, mumbled excuses, the sinking feeling that you were being talked about in secret. It’s worse now, though, because you can’t backtrack. You can’t ignore Harry’s feelings and you can’t forget about what he had confessed, what he had practically screamed from the top of the Owlery.

“IM IN LOVE WITH YOU!”

How would you recover from this?

The morning before you leave for the Easter Holidays, you get yourself ready for the day and trudge down to stairs to the Gryffindor common room. Fortunately, Harry isn’t there, but Ron and Hermione are and they look up at you with sad smiles as you draw closer.

“Morning guys,” you mumble, fidgeting with the hem of your skirt.

Ron and Hermione echo you before Hermione asks how you’re feeling.

“Horrible,” you admit, dropping into the seat beside Ron, “I feel so guilty and really really stupid. It was obvious Harry liked me but I just ignored it...I ran away from it...and Harry had been through so much and I was such a horrible friend and a horrible person!“

“(Y/N)!” Ron cuts off your spiraling thoughts by patting the top of your head. You sigh, burying your face in your hands as Ron continues, “Look, you’re not a horrible person. Sure this whole thing could have been handled better but that doesn’t make you a bad person, Just conflict averse.”

“You’re not making it any better, Ron,” Hermione chides, waspishly.

“I’m not, am I?”

“Look, (Y/N)—“

But before Hermione can continue, Harry approaches and you jump up from your seat.

“Harry!” You Yelp and then swallow, calming your pacing heart, “How-um-how did you sleep?”

Harry shrugs, “Ok.”

“Good!”

Silence pulses between the four of you, no one daring to speak. The only noise comes from other Gryffindors standing in groups, scattered through the common room. You fingers dig nervously into the skin of your wrist.

“Hey guys,” Neville greets cheerily, waving happily, “Want to come down to breakfast with me?”

“Sure!” You spurt without thinking and rush to his side. Your enthusiasm makes Neville blush and stammer out a timid ‘cool’ before you lead him out toward of the common room.

You keep yourself preoccupied with Neville the whole time you and your friends make the short trip to the Great Hall. Though you don’t actually participate in the conversation, you fill it with enough ‘okay’ and ‘oh’s and ‘right’ to trick Neville into thinking you’re listening. It’s hard to keep track of the conversation when it’s entirely one sided, but you can’t help your drifting thoughts.

Was it always going to be like this between you and Harry? Had you just sacrificed your friendship with him because of your tendency to flee from your problems? Ron had called it ‘conflict aversion’ and he was right; by ignoring all the signs, you were avoiding Harry’s feelings and distancing yourself from your friends. This whole time, you thought they were the ones drifting away when really it was you.

And now, you were going to do it again.

Instead of sitting with your friends, you elected to sit with Fred, George and Lee Jordan, doing your best to distract yourself from your feelings. After breakfast, you walked to Potions with Dean and Seamus and didn’t stop when Ron tried to get your attention.

“Hey Pavarti,” you tack on a fake smile and she smiles back at you, “Can I sit with you and Lavender today?”

Pavarti pulls out the stool next to her and Lavender leans across Pavarti, arching an eyebrow curiously.

“Not sitting with Ron, Hermione or Harry?”

“The last time I sat with them I got put next to Malfoy.”

The girls cringe in unison. You hide your smirk as you take your seat, dropping your book bag beside you. Lavender has always been nosy but you’ve learned how to deal with her.

“Get your textbooks out,” Snape snaps as he storms into the dungeons, “You’ll be taking notes today.”

“Great, two hours of writing down words I don’t understand,” Pavarti grumbles. Snape narrows his eyes on her and Pavarti drops her gaze.

“Do you have a problem, Miss Patil?”

“No, Professor.”

Snape huffs and whirls around, taking his seat at his desk. His dark, beady eyes meet yours and you look away, unable to take the intensity of his steely gaze. The last time you had seen him, you had accidentally pried into a corner of his mind that he had wanted to keep hidden.

Sighing, you pull out your text book, parchment and quill and get to work. It’s not exactly riveting, but you welcome the distraction, taking detailed notes and forcing yourself to memorise the importance of different potions.

You don’t know how long you’ve been writing for before Pavarti suddenly nudges you, hissing your name.

“Here,” she says, handing you a folded piece of parchment, “From Hermione.”

Curious, you thank Pavarti and take the parchment, unfolding the small, torn piece. The scribble, however, is bigger than Hermione’s tiny writing and a little neater than Ron’s chicken scratch which means...

It’s from Harry.

We should talk.

You glance at Snape. He hasn’t noticed you yet. You glance at the note again.

We should talk.

You know he’s right...and you do want to talk. You want to apologise for the way you treated him, of course you do, but you’re not going to apologise for loving Cedric. Besides, you can’t write down everything you want say in a tiny note, especially when Snape is a few metres away.

Tearing off a tiny piece of your parchment, you hastily write your reply.

Not like this. Let’s talk at lunch.

Dragging your hand under the table, you nudge Pavarti and hand her the note. You feel her shift beside you as she dutifully delivers it to Hermione. Twisting around slightly in your seat, you watch Hermione stealthy hand the note to Harry who scrambles to unfold it. He pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose and reads.

Not wanting to stare for too long, you turn around and face your book, pretending to read. Your peripherals pick up a familiar, blond-haired shape and you glance at Draco who is - much to your chagrin - staring at you. Again.

What is his problem?

Before you can mouth a curse word at him, Pavarti hands you Harry’s response. You tear your eyes away from Malfoy and read Harry’s note.

You’re right. Let’s talk tonight.

You bite your bottom lip. You’ve got a secret Legilimency lesson with Snape after dinner and then a Howler meeting after that. You scribble this onto the parchment, suggesting to talk at lunch instead, and send it through the human chain to Harry.

Harry’s response is quicker than you anticipated, and you find out why after you unfold his note.

Can’t. Got to meet with Bagman. What about tomorrow?

You swallow, tapping your quill against the note, sending tiny flecks of ink spraying across the parchment. Tomorrow, you leave for the Diggorys and you have a feeling that telling Harry that will make it worse. But you can’t lie to him either, what would be the point of that?

You tell him your plan for the Easter holidays, admitting to staying with the Diggorys, before handing the note to Pavarti.

“I should get paid for this,” Pavarti quips, her smile playful. You smile back apologetically.

“Sorry.”

“No, it’s fun. Funner than doing Potions work anyway.”

You wait anxiously for Harry’s reply. Was telling Harry about your trip to the Diggorys place a good idea? Would that make things more awkward? You glance over your shoulder, sneaking a peak at Harry. His face is inscrutable as he stares at your note. How did he get so good at hiding his feelings?

He was always good. You just knew him better back then.

Pavarti whispers your name and you blink, returning to yourself. She drops Harry’s response into your lap and you pick it up, carefully unfolding it. Before you can read it, though, thin fingers swoop in and collect it.

“Passing notes are we, Arden?”

Oh shit.

“Um...”

“It was me.”

Harry’s voice is loud and clear from over your shoulder and you hear the scrape of wooden legs against the concrete floor as he stands. Snape glares at him, upper lip curled into a horrible, twisted sneer.

“Of course it was you, Potter,” he spits, venomously, “It’s always you. Ten points from Gryffindor, and you’ll both get one weeks detention after the holidays.”

Detention?! For passing notes?

Malfoy and the Slytherins snicker gleefully

as Snape throws Harry’s note into the bin.

��What?!” Harry snaps, “That’s ridiculous!”

You whip around, shooting Harry a panicked look. Harry ignores you, glaring fiercely at Snape.

“Be grateful it’s not during the holidays,” Snape snarls, “And another five points from Gryffindor.”

Hermione grips Harry’s arm and ushers him back into his seat. You watch as Harry seethes, his eyes murderous, the energy surrounding him practically bursting with rage. Why is Harry so upset about getting detention? Really, it would be more of a surprise if Snape went an hour without dishing out detentions.

After class, you race to catch up to Harry, meeting him outside the dungeons.

“Sorry for getting you in trouble,” he mutters bitterly.

That’s why.

“No it’s fine Harry, seriously,” you smile, hoping that it makes Harry feel a little more better. It works. Harry’s shoulders relax and the corner of his mouth ticks a little.

“So...Um...” he scratches the back of his neck, “We do need to talk.”

“How about after my Howler meeting?” You ask hopefully.

Harry nods, “Okay. When do you finish?”

“Around ten.”

“Alright, I’ll wait in the common room for you.”

You smile again, “Sounds like a plan.”

****

“You’ve been practicing.”

You’re not sure whether Snape is impressed or if he’s making a simple statement, but it’s the longest sentence he’s said since your lesson started almost an hour ago.

And he’s right. You have been practicing on random students, dipping into their mind briefly and making sure not to dive too deep. You’re so brief that their thoughts project back as just random jumbles, nothing you can string together, but it’s enough for you to gain an understanding of Legilimency and how powerful of a tool it can be.

“Um...yes.”

Snape steps toward you, “Practicing on fellow students without their consent is against the school policy.”

You nod, “I know but I’ve been careful. I try not to stay inside their minds enough to understand their thoughts or see their memories.”

Snape cocks an eyebrow as he stares at you for a moment. It’s as though he can’t decide whether to scold you or praise you.

“I won’t punish you this time,” he finally says in his low, menacing snarl, “But if you continue to practice on students there will be consequences.”

You frown, “So how am I supposed to practice?”

“With me,” he snips, “Or with your friends. Surely you would have told them by now.”

You haven’t told Ron or Harry...but Hermione knows. You nod and mumble an okay.

“You’re dismissed,” he says, flicking his wrist toward the door.

“Yes Professor.”

“And (Y/N)?” You stop and turn to Snape who stares at you with glinting dark eyes, “Don’t let me catch you passing notes in my class again.”

You nod again, wordlessly, before making your way out of Professor Snape’s office and toward the Howler newsroom.

It’s a short trek, and you don’t pass anyone aside from Peeves, who tries to startle you by bursting out of the wall and launching a ping-pong ball at your head. You manage to dodge just in time, rolling your eyes at his antics as his cackle rings through the hallway.

“Asshole,” you mutter.

Finally, you arrive at the Newsroom and Juniper Bishop greets you with a radiant smile.

“Hey (Y/N)!” She says, cheerily, “Long time no see, right?”

She squeezes you into a bone crushing hug and you nearly get a mouthful of her raspberry-scented hair.

“Yeah actually,” you smile politely at her when she finally releases you, “Have you been well?”

Juniper winces, “Sort of…I guess you heard about me and Rachel…”

“I did,” you say, injecting as much warmth and compassion into your voice as you can, “Are you okay?”

Juniper shrugs, “It was a mutual thing, though it’s kind of awkward now.”

You’re about to comment when Harper Shacklebolt strides to the front of the room, sticks her fingers in her mouth, and issues an ear-shattering, hair-raising, demon-summoning whistle.

Your hands fly to your ears as the high-pitched screech explodes across the room, forcing everyone else to scamper to their seats.

You find a spot beside Troy, who gives you a sunshine-warm smile and pats your back.

“Alright, shut up,” she shouts, and the last whispers of gossip stop abruptly, “We are now two months away from the third and final task. I want the Howler to reflect the anticipation that everyone will most likely be feeling as we draw closer and closer to June 24th. Which is why I want an exclusive interview with our four Triwizard champions! Start drafting and planning because our first issue will be released next Thursday.”

With a flick of her wand, a large curtain falls away from the chalkboard, revealing four photos of the champions.

Padma giggles and points at Cedric, “Did Harper find that photo in your diary, (Y/N)?”

Harper folds her arms across her chest and pierces Padma with a glare that could wither roses.

“Padma, If you spent half as much time actually working as you do gossiping about (Y/N), you might actually write something that isn’t utter garbage.”

Padmas face falls and she shrinks in her chair. You reach across and squeeze her hand under the table as Harper continues.

“This week, we’ll be focusing on Viktor Krum. Everyone needs to be on board with this - I need this to be the best series the Howler has published since its debut back in 74.”

With that, Harper turns her back and everyone gets to work.

Immediately, you lean across your desk and catch Padma’s gaze. Tears pool at the corner of her eyes and a pang of sympathy throbs in your chest.

“Don’t worry about what Harper says, Padma,” you coo, patting her hand gently, “At the end of the day, it’s just a school newsletter.”

Troy slides onto your desk and rests a hand on her shoulder, “Beaides, Harpers first article was about Filch! Not to mention she misspelled his name through the entire thing so everyone started calling him ‘Thilch’ for the rest of the school year.”

A smile slowly blooms on Padma’s lips, dimpling her rosy cheeks. She gazes at Troy with twinkling, obsidian eyes.

“Thanks guys,” Padma mumbles bashfully, “Though we should probably get started on this article before Harper snaps at me again.”

Padma reaches into her book bag to fish out her parchment and quills, glancing away from Troy shyly. Troy playfully bumps his shoulder against yours, shooting you a winning grin.

“Heard you were going to Diggory’s tomorrow...” he mutters with a wink, “Meeting the parents already?”

You roll your eyes, “I’ve already met his dad.”

“Yes but it’s the mum you want to impress,” Troy says, “You may not know this but Cedric is a huge mummy’s boy.”

“Yeah?”

“Oh yeah, Big time. And she goes full Mama bear mode, too. She’s scary as fuck. Used to be a psychiatrist at Azkaban if you can believe it.”

You shudder at the thought. It had been terrible enough when Demontors plagued the school last year, hovering over everyone’s shoulder like a curse. You couldn’t imagine what it’d be like to work with them for longer than a year.

“Yikes. That’s...wow.”

“Yeah,” Troy crosses his arms, “She’s pretty gutsy and she’s the type of person you don’t want to cross.”

“Well that’s not nerve wracking or anything. Thanks dickhead.”

Before Troy can respond, Harper spears you with her infamous death glare. You exchange a look with Troy, who laughs, unfazed, before you both decide to get on with your work.

Grabbing your quill and parchment, you head toward Harpers desk where she scribbles frantically against the chalkboard. She hardly spares you a glance and you have to clear your throat to lure her attention away from her work.

“I suppose you want me to interview Krum, then?” You ask. Harper simply nods, continuing to ignore you. You roll your eyes at her and plant your hands on your hips, “What you said to Padma was uncalled for.”

Finally, Harper gives some indication that she can hear you, grunting dismissively.

“It was true.”

“No it wasn’t,” you argue, “Padma is a really good writer.”

Harper sighs and picks up a finger of chalk, scrawling a note in barely-legible chicken scratch, “You should know by now that I don’t settle for ‘really good.’ I settle for excellent.”

“Congratulations, you sound exactly like my father.”

Harper pauses, finally turning to stare at you, “Your father is a literary genius. To be included in the same sentence as him is the best compliment I’ve ever received.”

“Oh boy, you must not get many compliments.”

Harper flashes a smirk, but her eyes betray her amusement.

“I don’t have time for people who are too sensitive to receive criticism,” Harper shrugs, turning back to the chalkboard, “Besides, I was right. If she didn’t gossip so much and focused on her articles, they wouldn’t be so shoddy.”

You frown at the back of her head. Just as you’re about to snap at her, Colin Creevey darts in front of you, beaming up at you with rosy cheeks and a shy smile. Daisy ambles behind him, a scowl souring her face.

“Hey (Y/N),” Colin says, cheerily, “Daisy and I were wondering if you’d seen Noah anywhere.”

“The little creep has missed two meetings already,” Daisy grumbles, rolling her eyes, “And there’s no way I’m doing this assignment alone with crack kid here.”

Your brows furrow in thought as you try to think back to when you last saw Noah, “Now that you mention it, I haven’t seen him for a while...”

Daisy sighs and drops her camera on Harper’s desk, “The Creevey kid’s on his own. Harper can yell at me all she wants; I’m not a babysitter.”

With that, she turns on the thick heel of her combat boots and storms off, completely ignoring Colin as he races after her.

The meeting drags on for another hour, in which you and Padma draft up some questions and submit them to Harper for her approval. She manages not to scrunch up the paper and hurl it at you - which is usually a good sign - but you can tell Padma is still on edge and Harper is still stubbornly unapologetic.

Eventually, you manage to peel yourself away from the newsroom and amble back toward the common room with Dean, laughing and joking on your way back.

“I swear one day Padma is going to punch Harper in the mouth,” Dean smirks, shaking his head, “And I don’t want to be there when it happens.”

“Knowing Harper, she’d probably punch Padma back,” you muse and Dean snorts in agreement.

“Who do you think would win?” He asks, “You know, if they got in a fight?”

“Definitely Harper.”

“I think Padma would get a few good throws in.”

“Maybe but have you seen the guns on Harpers arms? She would have Padma pinned in three seconds tops.”

Dean concedes with a shrug, “Okay you’re right. Harper wins. Now...Harper vs McGonagall. No wands. Just good old fashioned fight.”

“Oooh tough,” you think for a moment, “But I think McGonagall. Definitely McGonagall.”

“Agreed. McGonagall would murder Harper in two seconds flat. But how would she go against Dumbledore?”

You paused on a large stone step, thinking for a moment, “No wands?”

Dean shakes his head, “No wands.”

“Then McGonagall.”

Dean huffs a laugh, “You seem to have a lot of faith in McGongall.”

“Who doesn’t?” You counter, proceeding up the staircase, “She’s a total badass.”

“I won’t argue with that,” Dean says before he spins around to face you, walking backwards, “Okay real talk though. Who would win: me or Seamus?”

“Seamus, definitely. Is that even a question?”

Dean clutches his chest in mock hurt, “You’ve officially been disfriended.”

“That’s not a word.”

“It is now!” He claims, before turning to the Fat Lady, “Flabberghasted.”

You follow Dean through the portrait hole and find Harry sitting in an armchair by the fire. He hasn’t noticed your return, his eyes distracted by the flames as they dance and flicked in the fireplace.

“Night, Arden,” Dean says, peeling your attention away from Harry, “And don’t forget the new word of the day is disfriended.”

Playfully rolling your eyes, you bid Dean a good night and you make your way over to Harry, clearing your throat to announce your arrival. Harry practically leaps from his seat when he sees you.

“Hi,” He murmurs

“Hey,” you smile softly, hoping it’ll hide your nerves, and nod at the fire, “You looked deep in thought.”

Harry shrugs, “I was just thinking about Sirius. I’m worried for him.”

“Me too. I wish he could live his life without having to hide. It’s the least he deserves.”

Harry nods wordlessly. Silence lapses between the two of you, spilling between the cracks dividing you.

You sigh, dropping into a couch and scrubbing your forehead in irritation, “I’m sorry about...everything. About leading you on.”

Harry chews his lip. It’s a little distracting.

“I know you are,” Harry says, as he takes the spot beside you, “And I know you didn’t do it deliberately. It just...hurts a little when the person you like doesn’t like you back. But I’ll get over it...it’s fine.”

“I shouldn’t have ignored your feelings, though. They’re valid. And, even though I’m not sorry for loving Cedric, I’m sorry for not being brave enough to talk to you properly.”

Harry tears his eyes away from the floor and for a moment your hit with a kaleidoscope of soft greens, a light show all for you. He reaches out, hesitating, hand hovering over your knee before he concedes. His hand is warm against your skin, a familiar, welcoming warmth.

“You’re the bravest person I know,” he stares and his conviction makes your heart soar, “Apart from Dumbledore.”

“Of course.”

You both laugh, like sharing a secret among friends, and it almost feels normal again, like when you were first years joking around the fire, before boyfriends and feelings and hormones.

“I don’t want to ruin our friendship,” Harry admits, his expression serious again, “You are one of the bestest friends I’ve ever had.”

“You too,” you rest your hand on his and squeeze, “So let’s move on. Let’s get past this.”

Harry nods in agreement. Maybe it won’t be exactly the same but at least it’ll be close.

It’s better than not having anything at all.

***

A/N prt 2

so i've been getting messages about whether I will write Reader losing her virginity to Cedric and, while I don't mind writing it, i know that there are some people who feel a bit eeky about reader being so young. (Honestly it is weird but you’d be surprised how many people want this)

So, I'm considering posting an extra chapter where Reader and Cedric do have sex on AO3 and everyone who is okay with reading it can head on over and read it. The chapter won't impact the story. However if the majority of people are okay with it then I'll post it on tumblr and AO3 and it will be mentioned in latr chapters. LMK what you think, please.

@marauderskeeper @weaselby418 @acciorinn @hervench @steph-fowlie @lilulo-12 @seunlight@thebesteleganttrashyouseen @elsie2018@polkadotfairyposts @hylianhighlander @dracosdoves@siriuswitches @bernadineisreborn @lousimusician @smolldork @danidomm@xrosegoldwolfx @ashkuuuu @sly-vixen-up2nogood@tchalland @lucifersnipnips @notorious-fiction@peppermintspecks @sleep-i-ness @reducto-bitch @who-said @mhftrs @whimsicalangels1234 @kneekoteen @steve-thotgers @qrangr @valiantlynervouschaos @bennie-badeend @gryffinclxw @fallern618 @alyenaaa @dammit-scamander @kararanae23@myhopeisinfinite @blaised-zabini @poppykoke@swansong321

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[marjansmarwani]

hold you ‘til the morning comes

1.6k || ao3

Carlos has known nothing but fear since he first got the report that a firefighter had died in the line of duty. After hours of wondering, here TK was: very much alive, but far from okay. But Carlos is not going to let him suffer alone.

Inspired by the scene in the promo of Carlos comforting TK --- Carlos Reyes Week Day 7: Anything goes

This idea came to me while I was watching the promo and @officereyes, being the wonderful enabler she is, encouraged me to write it. I carefully avoided any mention of who dies so I could be right either way, but I have my theories. Anyways, enjoy some Carlos introspection as he worries about TK 💕

--------------

When Carlos and Mya returned to the precinct, there was a tension hanging in the air. 

At first, he ignores it, choosing instead to focus on the path to his desk and the prospect of sitting down. A volcano erupting in the center of the city had left everyone a little crazier than usual, and after a full shift on patrol, he wanted nothing more than to collapse at his desk and bury himself in paperwork for the remaining hour. 

But as he and Mya headed to their adjoined desks, he could feel eyes on him. 

“Am I imagining things, or are people staring?” he asked his partner under his breath. 

Mya looked around and frowned. She paused in front of the desk diagonal to their own and stared down at its occupant, “What the hell is going on, Johnson?

Johnson, a young, quiet officer nearly jumped out of his skin at the mere prospect of being directly addressed by Mya. He swallowed nervously, glancing around the room before he responded as if hoping someone else would step in and save him. When no takers arose he swallowed again before speaking, “A report just came in. It...said that a firefighter died.” 

Carlos froze mid stride, a cold dread seeping through his chest. He turned and faced Johnson, catching the worried gaze of his partner as he turned. He kept his voice as calm and steady as possible as he asked the question he desperately needed to know, “did it say which station?”

Johnson shook his head frantically, nearly vibrating out of his seat with anxiety in the weight of Carlos’s gaze, “no, sir.” 

He felt Mya’s hand, warm and steady on his arm as she leaned closer, “there’s no saying it’s him, Carlos.” 

He nodded, jaw tight, but didn’t voice what he was thinking: but there’s no saying it isn’t either. 

Somehow his feet find their way to his desk where he sits, hyper aware of all the surreptitious glances thrown his way. It wasn’t just that it could be TK. It was that it could be Mateo or Judd, Paul or Marjan. It could be Owen, for all he knew. It could be any number of the members of the little family they had built for themselves in the midst of all the chaos and uncertainty, and Carlos didn’t want to lose any of them. 

But it could be TK, and Carlos didn’t know how he was supposed to live with that. 

The room was quiet and Carlos could feel more than one pair of eyes on him. He did his best to ignore them. He didn’t need their pity, and he had more than enough fear all on his own. He couldn’t really blame them though; in the months that he and TK had been together, his boyfriend had become known around the station. At first by virtue of being a fellow first responder himself, then later because he would stop by on days he was off to meet Carlos for lunch, or just to say hi. TK got on well with his coworkers, so he understood the heightened fear. They weren’t just worried for Carlos’s boyfriend, they were worried for their friend. 

He ignored the whispers and Mya’s concerned gaze and pulled out his phone, hands trembling ever so slightly as he accessed his recent calls. He tapped on TK’s name and waited, each ring another spike of fear being driven into his soul. All too soon the automated voice of the voicemail sounded and Carlos ended the call, placing the phone on his desk without a word or a comment to anyone. 

Not answering didn’t mean anything. TK often didn’t answer when he was on shift: it was hard to answer your phone when you’re scaling a building or doing whatever else the day might require. 

Or that’s what Carlos told himself, at least. 

He turned back to his paperwork, trying to bury himself in the routine, resisting the urge to check his phone every other second. The minutes tick by and soon his shift is over, but he can’t bring himself to leave. If he leaves and goes home to his empty condo, he might actually go crazy. So instead he stays, willing to trade off the unpaid overtime for the comforting monotony of paperwork. 

At some point, he realizes that the desk in front of him is still occupied too. He looks up to find his partner sitting resolutely at her desk, shuffling through her own paperwork. 

“Mya,” he began but she shook her head, effectively interrupting him. 

“I go home when you go home,” she declared firmly. “I’m going to be here for you no matter what, so just get over it.” 

Despite everything, he had to smile. “Okay,” he agreed, knowing when to admit defeat. He turned back to his paperwork, but not before checking his phone one more time. There were still no new messages, and he tried to ignore just how much further his heart sank each time. 

He had just turned back to his paperwork when the sound of loud voices outside the room filter to his desk. 

“They’re saying that fireman just ate it,” someone was saying, “he was dead before they could even get to him.” 

Eyes all over the room turned to Carlos, some more subtly than others, and clenched his jaw, determined to keep his expression neutral. 

“Carlos,” Mya began, already halfway out of her seat with the likely goal of telling whoever was talking to kindly shut the fuck up, but he shook his head. 

“It’s fine Mya, I’m just going to step outside and try calling him again.” 

She nodded and gave him a tight smile as he grabbed his phone and headed towards the back door. He opened it and stepped out onto the stairs, taking a deep breath of the crisp night air. It doesn’t fortify him as it usually does, but there is only one thing in the world that could make him feel better tonight. 

The fear that he has been burying inside his chest all night is ready to burst but he pushes it down one more time. There’s still no saying it’s him, there’s still no saying that he has anything to fear at all. He pulls out his phone with shaking hands, ready to try again and already dreading the sound of his voicemail. He’s just about to dial when he sees someone at the bottom of the staircase. He frowns, pocketing his phone. This isn’t the public entrance to the precinct. Most people didn’t even know it existed. He was about to call down, to see what the strange figure wanted when they stepped into the yellow light of the floodlight and their features came into focus and suddenly Carlos couldn’t breathe. 

He took the stairs two at a time, rushing down to TK, because it was TK. He was here, he was standing, and he was alive. He might just be the most beautiful thing Carlos had ever seen. 

He called TK’s name as he rushed down and when his boyfriend looked up at him Carlos was struck by the sadness in his eyes even from a distance. 

He slowed as he approached, taking in his appearance. He seemed to be unhurt, as far as Carlos could tell, but he looked smaller than Carlos had ever seen him. 

He stopped short of pulling TK into his arms, though he wants to so desperately. He studies him up close first, before speaking, “There were reports saying a firefighter had died and you weren’t answering your phone. I...” he trailed off, not sure how to explain what he had spent the past few hours feeling and not wanting to burden TK any more with his own feelings when the other man was clearly drowning in the weight of his own. 

“I didn’t mean to scare you.” 

TK’s voice is too small and Carlos’s heart aches, “It’s fine,” he assures him, “I’m just happy you’re safe.” 

He wants to ask what happened, he wants to ask all the questions echoing through his mind but TK is shaking and Carlos feels fear start to climb up his spine again, “Are you hurt?”

“No,” TK assures him, “I’m not hurt. I’m okay.” 

As they stand on the stairwell and look at each other Carlos reflects that in all their time together, that might just be the biggest lie TK has ever told him. He steps forward, hesitantly at first but when TK makes no move to stop him he pulls him into his arms, sheltering his shaking body with his own. He can feel TK’s body sag into his, losing some of the tension. It’s only a moment before he can feel his shoulder getting wet as TK’s body quakes with silent sobs. He pulls them down so they are sitting on the stairs and gently rests his chin on the top of TK’s head, running a hand in soothing circles on his back. 

His boyfriend is safe and he is beyond grateful. He wants to bask in the feeling of TK in his arms and the knowledge that he is safe, that he hadn’t lost him, but it feels selfish in the face of TK’s grief. He had lost someone today, and though Carlos doesn’t know the details, he understands. Whether or not it was someone from his station, whether or not it was someone from his team, the loss of any firefighter could feel like the loss of a family member. It could also serve as a reminder of what he stood to lose every day; that when the ones closest to you are the ones running into the fire beside you, there is so much more to risk.

Carlos would ask those questions later, he would help him through it, whatever it was. For now, they would just sit here, curled together in the stairway, savoring the warmth and existence of each other. 

Everything else could wait, for now. 

[blueskiesandstarrynights]

Whatever Happens I'ma Stand Tall- Jatp time loop au, Chapter 2: Loop 2, Didn't We Already Do This?

And here's chapter 2! I'm glad to get this one done, it's been bugging me for a bit.

Word Count: 2120

Tag list: @enby-chaos-fox @lagoonaaa

If anyone else wants to be added, just let me know!

Masterpost of chapters (x)

Looks like today is gonna be another sunny day, with temperatures in the low to mid eighties.

Julie awoke with a gasp and scrambled to shut off her alarm and wipe away her damp cheeks from her tears, trying to figure out what had just happened. She nearly knocked her phone off her nightstand trying to grab it, but once she got it she checked the date on her phone and nearly started crying with relief when she saw the date: Saturday, March 7, 2020.

It wasn’t real.

It wasn’t real.

Whatever she thought she had just experienced was just a dream. A nightmare created from her fears that today’s plan didn’t work. It was ok. They’re going to play the Orpheum and her band is going to crossover. She’d still lose them, but she had already accepted that.

But she had to be sure. Had to be sure it really was just a nightmare and her boys are still here. She quickly got dressed and dashed down to the studio only to find the guys a few seconds from poofing away.

Reggie noticed her first and called out, “Oh hey Julie! We were just about to-”

He cut himself off once he saw that Julie’s eyes had filled with tears and asked, “Whoa, Julie are you okay?”

She wiped her tears with a soft smile before saying, “Yeah, yeah I’m okay. I just had this really vivid dream that you guys were jolted out of existence and I couldn’t save you.”

“Well you don’t have to worry, it was just a nightmare, we’re right here and not going to go down without a fight.” Luke smiled at her.

Julie nodded and wiped the final tear tracks from her face before smirking and saying, “Don’t you guys have a gig to secure? You’re not crossing over without it.”

“We were just about to go and check on Wil- the gig,” Alex replied, looking anxious to leave and check on someone who she assumed to be Willie, Alex’s ghost friend who was going to be helping them get the gig for tonight. Julie wondered if he was more than just a “ghost friend” and filed that piece of information for later as Luke gave her a salute and a “See ya later boss,” before poofing away with Alex and Reggie in tow.

Julie took a deep breath to steady herself and push down the anxious thoughts and worries that had pushed their way to the front of her mind since the guys had left.

But every second that passed meant they were one second closer to being jolted out of existence. Every second that passed brought them closer and closer to their doom. Every second brought them closer and closer to that horrifying nightmare she had.

But it was just a nightmare, she tried to remind herself. It wasn’t real and she was going to help the guys peacefully cross over tonight. But then why was her dream so vivid and detailed? Was it-

No. She steadied her breathing and made her way back inside the studio, worrying about this wasn’t going to do anything, anything good at least. She decided to spend the morning in song writing in the studio, but when the guys came back with info about the Orpheum, the events of the day started unfolding in an eerily familiar pattern. A pattern suspiciously like her vivid nightmare from the night before. By the time she was at the Orpheum and the guys were once again running late, she brought up her concerns to Flynn.

“Have you ever had deja vu? Or had an oddly vivid dream that came true in real life?” Julie asked abruptly, causing Flynn to pause munching on the snacks that had been left in the room.

She gave Julie an odd look before replying, “Closest thing I can think of is a vague sense of deja vu when I was younger, but nothing vivid. Any particular reason you’re asking me this?”

Julie sighed. “Kinda. Last night I had this super vivid dream of today that ended with the guys being jolted out of existence. I failed and they experienced pain up until the moment they were just erased from all existence. And normally that wouldn’t scare me, because it was just a dream, but every single thing that happened in the dream has happened, and I’m terrified I’m going to have to watch them die all over again!”

Flynn placed the snacks on the table so she could move closer to Julie and give her a hug.

“C’mon that’s not going to happen. It’s not going to play out, it’s just a dream. And even if it did, they’re going to cross over, this is their unfinished business. My guess is the part in the dream where they die was simply your brain creating what you fear is going to happen. As for the rest of the day...well I can’t really comment on that, I’m neither a psychic nor a psychologist.”

There was a knock on the door followed by the stage manager calling out, “Hey Julie! It’s time!”

“Just a second!” she called back.

“Look, not to sound weird for using a dream of all things as a source of valid information, but what happened in the dream at this point? Did they come?” Flynn inquired.

Julie looked like she was holding back tears as she shook her head and said, “Yeah, they come in partway through the performance, that’s not even my main worry right now. I just-” she rests her forehead against Flynn’s. “I don’t know if I can-”

The stage manager once again knocks on the door and announces, “Hey Julie! You’re on!”

With too many emotions swirling around, Julie pushed her way out the door and into the alley at the side of the Orpheum, ignoring her best friend's shouts behind her. As she takes a breath of the stink of Hollywood Boulevard, she finally lets out the tears she had been holding in.

“I don’t know if you can hear me mom, but I don’t think I can do this. If I was supposed to help the guys, I don’t think I can. They’re not here, and I’m scared that even if they do come, it won’t matter. I’m worried they’re not going to come, but I’m terrified that I’ll have to watch them die; I don’t know if I can do that a second time. I just-” she gives a soft sniffle before saying, “I miss you so much. Every day. And it hurts every day that you’re not with us. The guys have helped, playing music with them makes me feel closer to you. Every time I look into the audience, I can see you smiling and cheering me on.

I miss you Mom. More than you can ever know. I miss being held in your arms and being told everything’s going to be okay, because even when all the odds say it’s not, you still made me believe it anyway.” She’s trying to wipe her tears from her eyes when she notices a woman next to her offering her a flower. It’s a dahlia. A red dahlia, like the ones Mom used to love. She hugs the flower to her chest and she feels like she can feel everything that made her mom who she was. She can hear her mothers laugh ringing in her ears, right next to the beautiful melody that is her voice, and she can feel the warmth of her hugs, can smell the flowery perfume she always used, and she can almost see her mom’s signature dark curls.

With the dahlia in hand, Julie barrels back through the Orpheum side door, heading straight for the stage, stopping only to show Flynn the dahlia and declare, “Signs,” before rushing onto the stage, not even thinking about what she was doing. Seeing the dahlia had reminded Julie of Flynn’s theory that her mom was behind everything, and took the flower as a sign to go up on stage. To keep going. To stand tall.

And she did. She performed the Orpheum, and her boys came and being up on that stage gave her a ridiculous amount of euphoria. After the guys disappeared and she was hounded by her family and Flynn backstage, the adrenaline from the night almost caused her to forget about the guys. Almost.

Once they get back home, Julie wants nothing more than to go to the studio, but is stopped when Carlos asks her, “Hey Julie, can I talk to you for a sec?”

“Uh, sure just give me a minute.”

“Ok, I’ll wait up. Don’t ghost me,” he responded, adding a completely unsubtle wink at the end, causing Julie’s eyes to grow wide in shock. Had he figured it out? If so, how? Or was this just another one of his theories that didn’t hold any merit?

She shook her head, deciding to deal with that later, before turning to her dad and saying, “Just a minute,” and headed for the studio.

She opened the doors and stared inside the darkened room, taking a large shuddery breath, scared of what she’d find if she turned on the light. Scared that the guys’ didn’t cross over, but instead are here, collapsed on the floor, moments away from dying a second time. Not wanting to prolong this any further, she reached over to the switch on the wall and turned the light on, and lo and behold, there they were piled on top of each other just as she feared, and seeing them like this caused her breathing to grow more ragged, which wasn’t helped by a jolt that simultaneously racked the boys bodies.

They coughed and moaned from the jolt but forced themselves up once they saw Julie and all tried to put on brave faces for her.

“Julie what are you doing here, why didn’t you just go straight to bed?” Reggie asked.

“I said she’d come out here, but nobody ever listens to me,” Alex complains.

Julie sniffled and pointlessly tried to wipe her eyes before saying, “I, uh, wanted to say goodbye and to thank you guys.”

Watching them now feels so much worse than the dream. She knew playing the Orpheum wasn’t going to work, yet she still performed there anyway. Now there was nothing she could do. They were being forced to relive the pain of dying over and over again, until they were wiped from existence entirely. There were so many things she wanted to do with them, and things they wanted to do. In fact, there was something they needed to do, considering they were ghosts in the first place and therefore had unfinished business. They had so much ahead of them, yet their time was being cut short too early, just like their lives in ‘95.

She collapses onto the floor and tries to get as close to them as she can without passing through them; doing so would just be another painful reminder of the separation between her and them, and how much they’re about to be separated permanently.

She numbly listens to them as they list off their final requests just as they did last time, before they’re finally killed and she is left in an empty studio, left with nothing but instruments that won’t be used again and her tears. Oddly enough, just like in her dream she finds the world being taken over by a blinding white light accompanied with still quiet before-

Looks like today is gonna be another sunny day, with temperatures in the low to mid eighties.

Julie’s eyes shoot open and quickly shuts off the alarm trying to make sense of what just happened. Why was she back in her room? What was that white light? Her theory about a dream turned out to be garbage since you can’t have a dream within a dream right? Confused, Julie reached over to her nightstand to grab her phone to check the date and what she saw nearly made her choke on air.

Saturday, March 7, 2020

Saturday, March 7, 2020

That was yesterday’s date. And now that she thought about it, it was the date for the day before as well. Panicking now, Julie goes straight for Flynn’s contact and texts her:

Julie: 911

Julie: Flynn

Julie: Get here asap

Julie: Somethings wrong

Flynn: What

Flynn: Jules whats wrong

Julie: Idk

Julie: Its weird

Julie: Just come here itll be easier to explain in person

Flynn: Alright be there in 5

Julie closed her phone, sighed, fell back into her pillows and groaned. This was going to be a long day. Again.

[chrisevansbabymama]

The Break Up - Part 1

Part One

Y/N was sure of it. Chris was doing this to rub it in her face, to show how happy he was without her; and how his family was happy too. Whilst everything had been going south for her since they’d broken up, it seemed he was also siding with the world against her. She’d been watching the Insta stories of her close friends and family, never flipping past anyone because they were all people she knew intimately. Then Chris’ played straight after, before she even had a chance to skip it. They hadn’t unfollowed or blocked each other yet on their socials, of course this was down to their persistent publicists who’d decided it was best to not give the press any leverage on their break up.

In true Chris fashion, he hadn’t uploaded in a while - he wasn’t even an avid Insta user, so her theory that he was doing this to taunt her made sense.

Home is where the heart is, he captioned a picture of him and the family that seemed to have been taken candidly. Everyone looked so happy. Had this been taken almost six weeks ago, she would have been in there nestled somewhere between him and Dodger.

She’d lingered too long on the picture, smiling back at the faces she’d known as her second family in the last year and a half since they’d met. Then the next one played, and she didn’t want to skip it. She didn’t care if he saw her on the viewers list, she had nothing to lose now anyway.

“Happy birthday ma,” his Bostonian accent boomed, the video showing Lisa sitting at the kitchen counter in a robe scrolling through her phone as he walked up to her.

“Christopher Robert Evans!” She whined, extending her hand towards the phone, trying to block him.

“Whooooaaa,” He laughed, that laugh that she loved so much, “Wow! C’mon, just say ‘hi’ birthday girl,”

“It’s too early for this Chris,” she looked away.

“Why are you up so early on your birthday?” he asked hugging her, then the video cut off after the 15 second allowance.

Y/N had played it over and over again, each time noticing something new; his beard had gotten longer and hair darker. He’d lost weight: he wasn’t as bulky as she remembered him in her arms. But he looked so happy, so it couldn’t have been a post-breakup weight loss. The other times she’d noticed the small details that only she or his friends and family would know; how his nephew had shot up in height, Lisa had painted the kitchen in ecru and rearranged the pantry.

She knew she had to speak to Lisa and wish her a happy birthday. They still talked even after the break up, Lisa was always confident that it was temporary and that he would come to his senses. Y/N doubted it; he’d said some pretty mean things, she’d said some pretty mean things too and she wasn’t sure how they were going to, if ever, recover from that. Even though her heart was going against the grain of her resolve, challenging everything she stood for: to not be taken for a fool by a man. But feelings are a funny thing, and she loved Chris. Despite how he’d taken her for a fool, she still wanted it to work and this to be all over.

But Lisa didn’t pick up Y/N’s call that afternoon. Not even the second one either, the over-thinker she was, Y/N drew to a conclusion that Lisa was too busy with her family now to talk to her. Nor did she even want to talk to the woman that had hurt his son. And that too hurt because he had hurt her.

But the truth was, she wanted Lisa to pick up so she could hear his voice in the background. Even if it was muffled, it was her favourite sound.

“Hi Lisa, it’s Y/N...I uhm, I didn’t want to leave a message of course but I know you’re super busy with the family around. I just wanted to say Happy Birthday! I hope you have an amazing day with everyone. I miss you, sorry I haven’t been in touch much this week, I’ve been super busy. But I hope we can catch up sometime, okay, bye. I love you,”

And just like that, Y/N had spent the whole day glued to her phone endlessly refreshing her Instagram and Twitter hoping for an update. She’d lost the privilege of knowing the intimate details of what he was up to, so if it meant grasping 15 second bursts on Instagram, then that was fine too. She was like one of them now – his followers, only getting the vague and general stuff, and not the direct messages or memes sent directly to her like she used to. That realisation hurt her especially because he hadn’t been posting anything, and the one time he resurfaces he’s with his family, flaunting his joy and life without her. She had posted a lot, (too much even) since the break up, and if she were to be honest, it was for his attention. She wanted him to see how good she’d been looking, the mini dresses, the short shorts, the haircut, the mysterious male hand in her food snaps and the melancholic love quotes. But he hadn’t watched any of the stories, much to her dismay. Scott had, and he would call to check in on her. But he wasn’t Chris!

“Lisa,” Y/N answered later that evening as she settled on the couch with a glass of wine after dinner, resigning from her social media stalking because if she knew Chris well, she knew he wasn’t going to post anymore intimate moments with his family. And if anything, it would be something to do with Dodger or repost something about NASA and the moon and stars.

“Happy birthday!”

“Y/N, sweetie, hi. Thank you so much, how’re you?”

“I’m good Lisa,”

“Sorry I missed your call, it’s chaos over here,” she laughed. “I haven’t had a chance to catch a break since morning,”

“I can imagine. Always keeping you on your toes,” Y/N chuckled softly. “How’s your day been?”

“It’s been busy and full – but so lovely. They sent me to get a massage this morning, then they all cooked lunch. We’re just coming in from dinner. I got your present, you are too kind and generous Y/N. Thank you so much, I really wasn’t expecting it,”

“Oh you’re welcome, I hope you enjoy it,”

Lisa paused, “I uhmm...was hoping you would show up. I really thought when they sent me to the spa that I’d come back home and you’d be there as a surprise. I kept waiting for that opportunity for you to pop up and surprise me,”

Now it was Y/N’s turn to pause. But nothing came out, shocked that Lisa was thinking of her at all on her special day when she was spending it with her family. Even worse, was the gut wrenching feeling in her stomach as Lisa’s words sunk in reminding her how easily she could have been there today, had she maybe just swallowed her pride and parted ways with her inhibiting principals?

“It’ll be okay Y/N. You and Chris, this is just a rough patch,” Lisa reiterated the same song she’d been singing the last few weeks but Y/N no longer believed it.

It’d been weeks. No changes or sign that he was even going to come back. He’d barely fought for the relationship then, so why would he now?

At this point, she was starting to realise that she needed to graduate from the grieving stage of denial and anger to bargaining, and with some time acceptance.

“I don’t know Lisa, I thought so too but, I don’t know,”

“This isn’t right, you two love each other,” Lisa said, almost to herself more than anything. “Why can’t you both see it?”

“Uhm, Lisa I have to go,” Y/N said quickly, awash with emotions that she didn’t think she’d confront today when she’d woken up in a good mood.

No matter how friendly she was with Lisa, this was his mom, so she couldn’t be too reckless and as honest as she wanted to be, but her son had really hurt her and it wasn’t fair that she was painting a picture that both of them were being stubborn. Y/N needed to save the rant for her mom who was used to the late night phone calls and tears. But she loved Lisa too much to lose her by weeping over and ranting about that annoyingly handsome son of hers.

“I’ve got company, sorry. Can I call you tomorrow?” Y/N lied.

“Of course, I better go too, they’re waiting on me to start the movie,” Lisa laughed, both women knowing that she could read through Y/N’s lie.

But Lisa had a way of working her coulda-been-daughter-in-law; she knew the right words to say and a way to speak to her to get her to open up. Tonight wasn’t the right time, especially with her culprit of her son in the room next door and the joyous occasion.

“Ma! Come. On!” Y/N could hear Carly yelling in the background.

“See what I mean?” Lisa laughed.

“I see,” Y/N laughed. “Goodnight Lisa, and don’t worry about Chris and I. Enjoy your birthday,”

“Goodnight honey, we’ll resolve that,” Lisa said. “I love you,”

“Kay, I love you too,”

Y/N chewed on her bottom lip, pensive, sad, wistful, her heart longing for the Evans’ family company, and attention from a certain Evans. If she was there, she and Chris would have snuck out halfway throughout the film and gone for a walk where they would share intimate goals and aspirations. Or they would go on a long drive and end up in a parking lot with mellow background music and heating on in his car, eating McDonald’s off their laps and stealing each other’s fries and dips. Chris would teach her about the constellation. They would make a new playlist together and drive back, sneak back into the house sometime around 2AM and make a messy freakshake that they would have found on Pinterest. They’d stay up in the lounge, whispering quietly with Family Guy in the background and melt into each other as they made out. They’d ultimately end up in his childhood bedroom, squeezing in on his bed. It was a good excuse to cuddle all night long. Chris would wake up with a dead arm but the pillow talk made it worth it.

By the time she’d drowned her third glass of the red wine, her memories and visions of him got blurred and not so pleasant. The vision of the last time she saw him, the day that they broke up kept haunting her but in parts, so she decided to call it a night and waddled up to her bedroom and threw herself on the bed, falling asleep straight away. She didn’t hear her phone ringing and vibrating downstairs.

Baaaaby

Missed Call (2)

And then pinging with message alerts.

Baaaaby: hey Y/N, it’s Chris

Baaaaby: hope you’re ok?

Baaaaby: Call me when you can

Baaaaby: Please*

[triptychexe]

TITLE: Escalation  SUMMARY: Jin finds out that obsession is a scary thing. GENRE: Angst (?) Slight creepiness. PAIRING: None WORD COUNT: 2.7k WARNINGS: Mentions of stalking, leaking information, leaking nudes, idk of anything else but please let me know if I should warn anything else! 

WINTER 2018

Soojin’s thumbs twiddled over her game controller, her eyes glued on the television screen in front of her. If she could just find that stupid item, then she could progress to the next part in the story and-  

Ring Ring.

Soojin inhaled deeply, preparing herself to call for one of the other girls to answer the phone. Her breathing turned into a groan, realizing that no one was in the dorm with her. She almost forgot that the girls were all out tonight, taking some time off between promotions. Jin glanced towards the direction of the dorm telephone, still ringing madly. Jin was so comfortable on her couch… Surely whoever was calling wasn’t going to say anything important. It was probably some sort of telemarketer. If it was one of the girls, they would have called her cell. Just in case, Soojin checked her voicemail for any missed calls. Nothing. The ringing stopped and went to voicemail, shrouding the apartment with the peaceful ambient sounds coming from Soojin’s game. Soojin smiled to herself. It was so nice to have the dorm to herself. Even though the other Generation 2 girls were lovely, it was nice to have a night free from the chaos. She didn’t have to fight anyone for the TV, or tell anyone that their music was too loud, or-- 

Ring Ring.

The phone started going off again. Soojin groaned, the moment of peace lost. She paused her game and rose from the couch. Before she hadn’t cared, but now she was agitated. The caller was interrupting her evening. A hand ran through her hair in aggravation as she approached the landline, prepared to be as blunt as possible with whoever was on the other line. She picked up the receiver, annoyance radiating off her.

“Hello?” Soojin snipped, crossing her arms. 

“Hello.” A smooth voice responded. “What took you so long?” 

The hairs on Soojin’s arms stood up and her heartbeat quickened. “Sojinnie, are you avoiding me?” The voice asked in a mocking coo. “You haven’t responded to any of my letters, and now you’re avoiding my calls?” 

Instantly, Soojin realized who it was. The letters. This was the author of the letters. The realization only spiked Soojin’s adrenaline, her mouth growing dry with panic. 

The last week of Trois’ debut promotions, Soojin started getting cryptic and creepy letters delivered to her. They followed her everywhere. The first one appeared on her dressing room vanity after Trois’ goodbye stage with a single red rose. The message was written using a typewriter. The letter wasn’t threatening, it was just a letter from a fan telling her that they will miss her between performances and that they couldn’t wait to see her again. Jin received sentiments like that all the time. It wasn’t anything peculiar. 

The second letter was a request to meet up for a romantic dinner date on the Han River at night. The letter detailed what they wanted Soojin to wear to the date in detail, and requested that she didn’t tell anyone where she was going. Jin was unsettled by the letter, but her managers assured her that it was nothing. It was just a fan that took Jin’s fanservice a little too seriously. For a while, Jin believed that too. She was just being dramatic.

Then the letters started arriving at personal locations. She found letters taped to the practice room mirrors, in the women’s bathroom at the company, tucked in the creases of her locker. The apartment building even called her one morning to tell her that her mailbox was getting full. When she checked her mail, she had at least ten letters from this anonymous sasaeng. That’s when Jin realized the power of the word ‘obsessed’, and just how dangerous this obsession was.

Jin tried to think quickly. The first thing she thought of was to contact her manager, tell her that it happened again. But what could her manager do? Yell at the person on the other end of the call? Tell them to cut it out? The sasaeng would probably just call again once the manager left. 

“Soojinie, why so quiet?” The voice asked. Soojin tried to focus on the voice. It definitely belonged to a man. Based on the pitch, the man was probably not a teenager. It was probably someone still young enough to know who she was, maybe a man in his twenties or early thirties.

“How did you get this number?” Soojin asked, her voice uneven with fear despite her efforts to appear bold.

“It’s easy to find things these days. Don’t worry. I did this so we can talk instead of waiting for each other to write.” The voice said innocently, as if the person didn’t see anything wrong or unsettling about calling a personal number. “I didn’t scare you too bad, right?” 

“I don’t want you calling this number. This isn’t right.” Jin shook her head. She realized how weak her words were. Whatever bravado she had put on before picking up the phone had melted completely, now turning to ice in her veins.

“Then we can meet up in person. It wouldn’t be too hard to arrange.” The voice drawled, clearly amused in the panic and chaos that he was inflicting. “I’m closer than you think.” 

Soojin’s heart leapt into her throat. The hair on the back of her neck stood up, and she suddenly felt as if someone was watching her. An even more horrifying thought seized her mind. What if the call happened inside her apartment. The new theory sent another wave of panic and fear through her body, the ability to think clearly fleeing her brain. She instantly ran to her door, only having enough time to slip on some sandals before bolting down the hallway of her apartment building, knocking on the door of the person she knew could make her feel better.

A sleepy looking Soonyoung answered the door, rubbing sleep out of his eyes when he realized who it was.

“Hey, Soojin. Everything good?” Soonyoung closed his eyes as a yawn emerged from his mouth. Jin felt like a child would run to their parents after a nightmare, guilt blanketing over the fear that was still causing her hands to shake.

“Um, actually, no.” Soojin said, trying not to sound too hysterical. “Can I come in?” 

The words woke Soonyoung up, his eyes suddenly alert. He stepped aside quickly, ushering his fellow member into his dorm. The minute the door closed behind her, Soojin’s tears started to fall. 

“Woah, hey,” Soonyoung furrowed his eyebrows, placing a hand on Soojin’s shoulder. “What’s happened, huh? Are you hurt?” 

“No.” Soojin shook her head, keeping her focus down. She was scared and angry, unable to stop the nagging voice in her head that told her that this could have been avoided if she just spoke up. 

“Okay, okay.” Soonyoung said soothingly, pressing his hand on the crown of Soojin’s head in a brotherly gesture. “How about we sit down?” 

Soonyoung made Soojin a cup of tea, waiting patiently for Soojin to calm down enough to speak. The lavender tea in Soojin’s cup was nearly drained before she finally found the air to speak. 

Soojin explained everything. From the first letters to the phone call she just experienced to the sudden fear that the sasaeng might be in her apartment. 

“Did you hear him in there?” Soonyoung asked in a low tone, a flicker of anger crossed his face. 

“No. But… I figured it might be a possibility.” Soojin explained, suddenly feeling dramatic for thinking that might be a reality. She would have heard a door open, or a window creak. “I feel bad for waking you up, I’m sorry.” 

Soonyoung shook his head and placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. “It very well could be a possibility. You reacted how you felt you should. I’m glad you came here and I’m glad you’re safe.” 

Jin just nodded appreciatively, thankful for his comforting words. “We should call the police.” Soonyoung suggested in the same tone a nurse suggests for a child to close their eyes before a shot. Soojin nodded, pulling out her cellphone. Just as she was about to dial the local police, a notification from kakao popped up on her screen. 

If you don’t want me, I’ll make sure no one wants you. Not any other guy or any of your ‘fans’. I only liked you because you’re hot. You can’t sing, you can’t dance. There will be nothing for you after I’ve had my turn to humiliate you. You fucked up, Min Soojin. You fucked up so bad. Fuck you, whore.

Soojin and Soonyoung blinked at the message, both of them unable to make a comment.

“Call the police.” Soonyoung’s voice got steely. “Now.” 

Ame held the door open for Jin as they exited the coffee shop with a wide smile on her face. Jin couldn’t help but smile back despite her nerves. The younger girl had been apologizing for not being home during the situation last weekend for the past two days and was putting extra effort into making Jin feel safe and supported.

After the police questioned Jin, they said that they’d keep the report on file, but there wasn’t much evidence that they could collect. They still advised Jin to be careful of her surroundings and not go anywhere alone. Ame stepped up to the job, becoming Jin’s personal shadow. Today, Ame would be walking Jin to HBH headquarters for an important meeting with Hak Bonghwa and HBH’s lawyer team to discuss the next steps to take. Jin was concerned about the meeting. It’s been two full days since the phone call and text, and she hasn’t heard anything back from her stalker. What if they thought Soojin was just getting pranked? What if they couldn’t help her?

“Soojinnie.” Ame gave a pout, reaching over to squeeze one of Soojin’s cheeks with her thumb. “Don’t frown so much. You’re gonna get premature wrinkles.”

Soojin tried to relax her face, but she couldn’t help but feel more and more anxious. Something about today seemed off, as if the world was holding its breath. 

“Sorry… I’m just… I feel like it’s the calm before the storm, you know?” Jin frowned.

Ame pursed her lips sympathetically. “Hey, at least you’ve got HBH looking into it. I’m sure no matter what happens today, you’re going to at least have support.” 

Jin gave a small smile at the sentiment. The two girls made their way to the location they told their driver to meet them at. On the way, Jin pulled out her phone, scrolling through social media for a brief distraction.

The headline that greeted her upon opening up Naver chilled her blood. 

“HACKER LEAKS TRIPTYCH’S JIN’S KAKAO TALK MESSAGES.”

 She felt her heart seize. She dropped the freshly-made coffee cup in her hand, it’s contents pooling on the sidewalk at her feet.

“What is it, Jinnie?” Ame asked in shock, slowing down her pace beside her leader, taking a sip of the pink beverage she just purchased. 

“I…” Soojin was at a loss of words, unable to speak properly from the shock. Ame looked at the phone screen and let out a gasp. “Oh my God, Jin…” Ame looked between the cellphone and the other girl, an equal look of panic crossing over her expression. “Do you know if it’s legit?” Soojin didn’t answer. She tapped on the article link, scrolling through the details. 

‘This morning, Triptych’s Jin’s old messages were revealed…’ 

‘Containing several messages from what appears to be ex-lovers…’

‘Including some explicit photos…’ 

Soojin thought she was going to pass out. She expanded the attached photos of the screen shots, but she didn’t need to look deeply to see that they were the real thing. She vaguely remembers the boys she used to be in contact with during her trainee years, the conversations suddenly resurfacing in her memory. 

Before Soojin could truly react, a black SUV pulled up to the curb next to the idols. The passenger’s side window rolled down, revealing their manager, Hyunjung. 

“Get in the car.” Hyunjung demanded. “We have an emergency meeting at the company.” 

The idol opened the doors to the scheduled meeting room. Sat at the long oak table was Hak Bonghwa, a publicist, and few men in suits that Soojin had never met before. As if the ensemble couldn’t be any more intimidating, Yerin was also seated, a severe look on her face. 

Soojin bowed politely as she entered, taking a seat next to her leader for what she assumed would be the last time. While in the car on their way to the company, she could only come to one conclusion: she was going to be kicked out of Triptych. No way would HBH want to keep around an idol who had broken the trainee dating-ban as well as cause this much drama only a month into her debut. The only logical result would be expulsion from the group and company. 

“Well, now that we are all present, I think it’s time to discuss what has occurred this morning and weekend.” Hak Bonghwa stated, folding his hands on top of the manila folder infront of him. 

“As we are aware, Soojin’s incident has gotten more serious than we anticipated. This morning, personal information was leaked to the public.” Hak Bonghwa summarized. “We also have received,” The man opened the folder, placing a typed out note. Soojin’s blood chilled and goosebumps rose on her arm at the familiar sight. 

“A threatening letter from the stalker addressed to both HBH and Jin. Considering the… passion… behind this letter, we have no choice but to take these threats seriously.” 

 “I think it’s important that we discuss the next steps in our plan to keep Soojin protected at all costs. We know that this stalker has more private information than we realized. I think our first step is to change Soojin’s phone number and erase any old messaging apps to prevent further exploitation.” 

The other people at the table nodded in agreement.

“Following that, I suggest we put Soojin on a hiatus from public activities until the stalker is caught.” Hak Bonghwa recommended. 

“What about security at the dorms?” Yerin wondered. The protectiveness in her voice surprised Jin. The vocalist always assumed the leader had a mild dislike for her and the prospect of Nia and Jin finally getting past their tension gave Soojin a rush of hope. 

“This stalker knows where Soojin and the rest of us live. Keeping her safe at home should be an even bigger priority than pulling her from promotions.” Yerin argued. “Plus, pulling her from promotions now would mean putting all of Trois on hiatus. They can’t perform without their leader.” 

“We can arrange extra security.” Hak Bonghwa nodded. “But I still believe that a hiatus is appropriate, regardless of the circumstances.” 

Yerin didn’t look pleased with this answer, but she didn’t object. Soojin felt a wave of appreciation for Yerin so strong that it momentarily made her forget about the issues at hand. 

The rest of the meeting carried on. Only once did Hak Bonghwa address Soojin, and that was to go over the contents of the kakao messages. Hak Bonghwa suggested that for safety reasons, they claim that the messages were photoshopped. 

“I don’t care if they are real or fake, and honestly I do not wish to know.” Hak Bonghwa had stated with a sense of finality. “As far as we are concerned, they are manipulated.” 

The rest of the meeting seemed easier to get through. They discussed legal actions, pressing charges, hiatus rules, the works. Then the meeting was adjourned, and everyone rose to their seats. 

Before Yerin could get away, Soojin held onto her elbow, tethering the other girl to her.

“Yerin,” Soojin said. “Thank you.” 

The leader gave Soojin a skeptical glance. “You’re welcome?” 

“You didn’t have to stand up for me, but you did, and I appreciate it.” Soojin clarified. 

Yerin looked a little uncomfortable. “I mean… I only said what would make the most sense. Putting you on hiatus only makes you look even more guilty, but I guess I can’t argue with Hak Bonghwa.” 

Soojin’s smile faded a little, suddenly embarrassed that she thought Yerin was finally coming around to her. 

“Oh. Well. Thank you, regardless.” “Sure. Stay safe.” Yerin gave a thin-lipped smile before breaking away and exiting the meeting room.

[thechildoflightning]

Advent

Title: Advent

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Pairings: none

part of the jksf series

~~~

Prompt: 

Heyyy. For your oneshot thing, could you give us some Logan angst please??? Love you babey ~@justgr8

Summary: 

Tradition has always been vitally important to Logan. Routine keeps him balanced and feeling safe. But tradition can change. When treated carefully, and with communication, change to tradition can be navigated. It’s too bad that Logan’s family isn’t willing to put in that effort.

-

Or: Logan’s autistic. His family likes to ignore this fact.

Warnings: Ableism, Internalized Ableism, Meltdown, Breaking Traditions

[ao3 link]

~~~

Advent

It was Logan’s freshman year of high school when he realized that this was going to be the last time his family did advent box. It hit him hard, a striking dull pain in the middle of his stomach.

When he thought of Christmas, Logan didn’t just think of Christmas. No, Logan thought of each of the little traditions that followed the season. They had always been of importance to Logan. His family did them every year. It was tradition, it was routine, and Logan couldn’t break that. Or he couldn’t break it without having a meltdown, usually more than one. 

But as he and his sister had gotten older, most of the traditions had faded or bled away without much care and no one has seemed bothered by it. Accept Logan.

Advent box is one of the few things they had kept.

Every day, in the evening, they opened the box. It contained a chocolate or a small toy or something of equal value. It was silly and somewhat pointless and Logan didn’t quite get why he cared. But he did. He cared so much.

Which is why this year had to be perfect.

Veera was going off to college next year. Logan and her have always traded off days opening the box. Maybe they could continue when she was gone, with just Logan opening until she got back from break and then they could open them together?

Logan had thought about solutions and work-arounds and how to continue forward, but he doubted his parents would see it the same. So he tested his theory.

Off hand he mentioned something about advent box next year and then he watched for the signs.

His mom wouldn’t look at him. Odd, because she was always trying to get him to meet her eyes. She chuckled and gave him a non answer. Also odd because it was a simple remark that Logan had made. His father had patted him on the shoulder (which Logan didn’t like but was normal behavior from him) and then he had said “we’ll see,” which also didn’t make sense considering Logan hadn’t actually asked a question, just made a comment. It didn’t line up and Logan knew they were lying.

Or not lying exactly, but he gathered that it was very likely they would not be doing advent box next year. Hence the stabbing feeling in his stomach and also why this year had to be perfect.

Not all the boxes were opened on the right days. Logan thought that this would have bothered him if it wasn’t also routine for his family to forget or get busy on some nights.  But three days leading up to Christmas (the last day on the box) and they had six days to make up for. Which was a lot.

They decided to do it now, right now, as Logan was preparing himself breakfast in the morning. They usually did it in the evening and if he thought about that too much his hands start itching. Logan’s parents- who were also in the kitchen- insisted that he called down Veera. Logan gulped but nodded. It needed to be perfect and sure it was morning which wasn’t Right, but it was also Logan’s first weekday off from school and routine was already thrown to hell so what was one more thing?

Plus if they didn’t do it now they’d probably forget and they wouldn't do it tonight and then they’d fall more behind and wouldn’t get it done by Christmas. And true, why they had fallen behind before they had never actually failed to complete it. The burning sense of that Wrongness beat out the Wrongness of doing it in the morning, so Logan rushed over to the foot of the stairs.

“Veera!” he called up towards her, “Veera! Advent box!”

She didn’t respond. He frowned and tried again. Still no response.

He turned back to face the kitchen.

“Is Veera here?” he asked his parents.

“Yeah, and Caleb too,” his dad replied.

Logan frowned and called again. They’re was once more no response, though he could see the cracked door so if they were there they should be able to hear him. He looked over at the front door and checked the shoes. Caleb’s converse were there. (He had bigger feet than Logan and Veera and Logan’s parents didn’t wear converse so they were easy to distinguish).

He was about to shout once more when Caleb exited the room.

“Hey Logan,” he greeted, making eye-contact with Logan.

Logan looked down immediately and nodded.

“Hey,” Logan replied, “Veera coming?”

“Yeah, she’s trying to do this thing with her hair.”

“Okay,” Logan left the foot of the stairs and returned to the kitchen, leaving his sister’s boyfriend. Once he had entered the kitchen, he made his way to the advent box. It was an odd number day. That meant it was his turn today. 

He was vaguely aware of Caleb and his parents moving to join him around the box as he counted out everyday and tried to remember what had been in each box previous.

When he finished he turned to face them. Still no Veera.

“It’s your day Logan,” his mother said, “Why don’t you open it?”

“I know it’s my day, it’s an odd day,” Logan said, “And I’m waiting for Veera, we can’t start without her.”

Everyone had to be there for advent box. It was a rule.

“Logan why don’t you just-”

Logan’s mother was cut off by his sister appearing in the kitchen and sliding over to join them.

“I’m opening it,” he announced, to make sure he had everyone’s attention. He opened it to reveal a paper. The paper had a brand name on it, which meant that it was a toy, but had been too big to fit in the box. He held up the paper expectantly towards his mom, but didn’t turn to face her.

“There’s a paper.”

He saw her nod out of peripheral vision and she turned to get whatever the toy was. She handed the bag over to Logan first. That was also tradition. Logan was the one who had opened the door so he got first pick. Whoever opened the door got to choose first. It was a rule.

Logan peered inside to see sticky hands. He wondered briefly how they had not fit, considering they were quite small. They should have been able to fit in the box. He picked at one and realized it was due to the packaging. It was unnecessarily large, and his mom probably hadn’t wanted to unpack them for fear of losing their stickiness.

“What is it Logan?” his sister asked, and Logan recognized the impatience at her voice. 

Still considering the packaging dilemma, Logan held one up to show her. 

“Oh cool,” she said. 

Logan thought that was funny. Usually she’d make fun of childish stuff like this. But advent box always had this sort of stuff and it was also tradition to not care how silly it was. It was sort of backwards but it also meant that his family wouldn’t be mean to him about liking childish things, so Logan was okay with it.

He laughed a bit though, because it was funny.

His sister scowled at him and snatched the bag from him. He let her. It didn’t matter anymore. He had his sticky hand. She passed the bag around as he slowly unwrapped his own. It plopped into his hand and it felt horrible. Logan immediately dropped it.

“Logan, don’t let it fall on the floor, it’ll get dirt on it,” his mother chided.

Logan struggled to process her words for a minute. His hands still felt gross. He wanted to move them, to get the feeling off. He wasn’t supposed to flap them though. But maybe just once? It wasn’t like he was flapping them for a bad reason, he just wanted to get the sticky feeling off of it.

He flapped the hand that it had touched and then slid the hand against his pants, hoping his parents wouldn’t notice. He thought his mom was maybe watching him, so he put his hand in his pocket. With his other he was forced to pick up the sticky hand again. His mom had told him to, and she wouldn’t take nicely to Logan ignoring or refusing her.

So he picked it up, holding it as lightly as he could with the least amount of his skin touching it. He tried not to wince. His mom turned away and unwrapped her own sticky hand. 

In response, Veera shot her sticky hand towards her mom. Mom threw hers at Veera in return and then chaos broke loose. The four other members in the house started darting around the kitchen trying to hit each other with the sticky hands. Logan watched them and rocked forward on his feet.

Even Caleb- who was still hesitant to join in a lot of the family interactions- was participating. A moment later they died down a bit and came back over to the advent box, still flinging their hands gently at one another.

Then Veera flung hers at Logan.

It hit his clothes thankfully. Logan didn’t know what he’d do if it hit his skin. Probably scream, and he didn’t think his family would like that very much. He grinned a bit, because Veera seemed to be playful and it wasn’t all that common that she was nice to him. In fact, usually she was quite mean, snapping at him and making rude comments. His parents said that it was college stress and Logan was over exaggerating. Sometimes they even said it was Logan’s fault.

But she seemed happy now. Logan, not wanting to miss out on the rare opportunity, flung his sticky hand back. 

It hit Veera’s hair.

She immediately screeched and wrenched away.

“Logan!” she said, “You’re going to mess up my hair! Don’t do that!”

Logan shrugged and turned to hit Caleb instead. Caleb was looking at him and didn’t react to the sticky hand. Logan frowned and looked back over to his sister. She was glaring at him and desperately messing with her hair.

“Oh, I’m really sorry Veera,” he said, “I didn’t mean to mess up your hair. I won’t do it again.”

She continued to glare and Logan realized his parents were too. He couldn’t help but feel he did something very wrong. He set the hand down. He didn’t think his mom would complain if he chose not to participate andymore. 

Caleb kissed Veera’s cheek and whispered in her ear. She sighed and continued to scowl, but stopped messing with her hair. She seemed okay now. Logan thought so at least.

“It’s your turn to open advent box,” he said.

“Logan you can’t just hit people in the face.”

Logan knew that. Of course he knew that. It’s not like he had been trying to. Plus he had hit her hair anyway. He got that that wasn’t okay, but he hadn’t meant to.

“Everyone was throwing the hands around,” Logan said in an attempt to explain. Everyone was throwing them around. They weren’t very accurate. One was bound to hit someone in the face eventually. It just happened to Veera by Logan’s hand. It wasn’t on purpose and Logan knew it wasn’t okay. He had apologized. “It’s your turn to open up advent box.”

Veera scowled and pushed forward, opening the box. It was chocolate in it. Logan quietly took one from her when she offered them forward. He unwrapped it and ate it and watched the others around him do so as well.

Logan still hadn’t eaten breakfast. He was in the middle of making his when they started. His skin itched.

It was Logan’s turn. He opened it. It was also chocolates. He pocketed his this time and passed the rest out. As he was doing so, another mini fight with the sticky hands broke out.

“It’s your turn Veera,” he mentioned. 

She sighed, stopped her fighting, and pushed forward. She opened the box and then moved back without glancing inside. Caleb whacked her with his sticky hand. She laughed and tried to whack him back but hit dad instead. Seconds later and they were racing around the kitchen once more, having fun.

Logan smiled at them and didn’t join in. They seemed to be having fun. He’d probably ruin it.

He looked in the open box and pulled out a couple of pull back race cars. They were tiny and cheap and they were in advent box every year. Logan sat them down. 

Since it was Veera’s turn, she got to choose first. But she was playing and having fun and his whole family seemed to be enjoying themselves, so Logan let her be. She could choose the one she wanted in a minute, that was fine. Logan could wait.

“Hey Lo,” Veera called, “Go ahead and open the next box!”

Logan froze.

He couldn’t do that. Veera hadn’t chosen which car she wanted yet. She had to choose first before moving on to the next box.

“You need to pick which car you want first,” Logan called back.

“I will in a minute, just open the new box,” Veera said.

“I don’t want to be rude,” Logn replied. Because he didn’t. That’s why the rule was in place. It let the person who opened it choose first, which was polite. Logan sometimes struggled to know what was polite and what wasn’t, and his family often got upset with him about that. But this was an established rule that Logan knew was polite. He could at least follow that.

Being rude was mean and Logan didn’t want to be mean. So he’d wait for Veera.

“Just open the stupid box,” Veera said, coming back over to the advent box.

“Choose a car first.”

“Just take one Logan,” she huffed.

“You’re supposed to choose first,” Logan said, because that was a rule.

“Gosh,” she huffed, “See this is why I hate doing things with you. This is why nobody likes you Logan. You’re making this into such a big thing it doesn’t even matter.”

“I’m j-”

“Here, whatever, I’’l take the blue one you can have the green. Let’s move on now, come on. Open the new box, god Logan.”

Everything was going to fast. Logan stood, blinking for a moment as he tried to process her words.

Logan’s parents stepped forward, recognizing the increasing tension in the room.

“What’s going on here?” his dad asked.

“Logan’s making a big deal out of nothing,” Veera said, rolling her eyes. She stepped towards Dad, “Logan wouldn’t open the new one until I had chosen which car I wanted. Which is just-” she huffed, “So I chose one but he’s still not opening the box.”

His parent frowned.

His mother spoke, “Logan why don’t-”

“I wasn’t trying to not open the box!” Logan protested, finally finding his words. Veera was making him the enemy again and maybe if he could just explain… Because he wasn’t being bad, he wasn’t! But they were frowning at him like he had been but really he was just trying to be polite like they wanted him to be.

“Logan-”

“Veera opened the box with the cars. And if you open the box you pick first. That’s the rule. It’s polite. We do it so we’re not mean. And I’ll open the box now in just a minute- I just wanted to clarify what I was doing. I wasn’t trying to make it a big deal, I-”

“God Logan,” Veera huffed.

“Logan why don’t you just open the box. You’re making this more difficult for everyone involved.”

How was this Logan’s fault? Everything was moving too fast. He didn’t know how to keep up.

Logan’s eyes felt strange and his whole body itched and he could still feel the sticky residue on his hand. He wanted to flap his hands and get it off. He wanted to cry. He wanted to scream.

His parents wouldn’t be happy if he did those things.

He looked at the advent box. He wanted this to be perfect. It was the last year.

(That felt so Wrong).

Logan felt worse. He frowned, looked down at his feet, and with the little energy he had left, he exited the room. 

(Better to leave now with his family just a little upset than to have a meltdown in front of them, causing them to be extremely angry with him).

He could vaguely hear Veera’s complaints behind him.

When he got to his room he threw the stupid pullback car that was still in his hand at the wall. Once he had done that- and kicked his desk for good measure- he immediately got into his bed and cuddled the blankets around him. They were the thickest ones he had. Then, he opened his mouth and shoved a pillow in it.

He began to scream as loudly as he dared, muffled by the pillow. He cried too. He cried a lot.

His brain waged war with him, outlining everything that was Wrong and it all felt off and Logan was falling to pieces and nothing felt right and Logan didn’t know how to fix it.

He wondered if this was his fault. 

He had probably done something wrong again, broken another rule.

But he was too tired to think about that and his brain didn’t like him right now so he screamed and cried and bashed his hands against the wall.

(He made sure to stay quiet enough that the rest of his family wouldn’t hear him, even though that made his body itch unpleasantly).

Eventually, he tired himself out and stopped crying. He was exhausted. His brain had trouble thinking and connecting and his eyes grew heavy even as he kept crying, pitiful whimpers interrupting the tears every so often. He felt himself starting to nod off.

The last thing Logan heard before he fell asleep was his family laughing the other room, presumably playing with the sticky hands once more. Enjoying themselves. Without Logan.

That was also a tradition, his family only enjoying Family Time without him. And he hated how that felt Right.

~

Taglist Below

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[sallyhasopinions]

Batman: Mystery of the Batwoman

Today I was trying to ease myself back into this whole process after skipping a day by choosing a shorter movie than average, the 2003 direct-to-video Batman: Mystery of the Batwoman. This was a mistake, as it took me in the neighborhood of four hours to watch it and take notes. This movie is an hour and fifteen minutes in length, but I take notes like I’m going to be tested later and I had to keep pausing to catch up. It’s animated and filled with superheroes, so the pacing was faster than I was prepared for.

Spoilers below; you’ve been warned.

I took fifteen pages of notes for this plot description.

Note - In the interest of relative brevity I am going to assume that readers have at least a passing familiarity with Batman.

The film opens on a seemingly innocuous car hauler and following car driving through the night before being intercepted by a mysterious Bat~woman~, who interferes with the disguised cargo, revealing it to be weaponry, and battles the men in both vehicles. This fight draws the attention of Batman and Robin, coincidentally cruising by in their jet, who interfere to save the lives of the truck drivers and make note of this mysterious woman who is totally jacking their brand.

As Bats stresses over who could possibly be behind the mask, the Penguin is visited by criminal colleagues Thorne and Duquesne, who break the news about the ruined shipment and the newest Bat on the block. The Batwoman also appears on the news, and Commissioner Gordon even questions Batman directly about who she is, though he has no information.

At Wayne Tech, Bruce sits through a presentation by clumsy employee Dr. Roxanne (Rocky) Ballantine, where she demonstrates a new alloy of “programmable” metal that can be made to take different shapes. Bruce invites her to dinner, but their evening is interrupted by the appearance of the Bat-Signal.

Commissioner Gordon, along with detectives Sonia Alcana and Bullock, have recovered the weapons destroyed in Batwoman’s battle and identified them as high-tech plasma rifles of unknown origin. Batman deduces from the distinctive keychain holding the truck’s keys that they have come from a business owned by the Penguin, Thorne, and Duquesne.

Investigating the shady business, Batman and Robin find Batwoman already there and causing trouble. The boys step in to help when she is surrounded by thugs, only to find out from her that she has rigged bombs in the rooms below them, and they all need to make their escape. As the building is destroyed, she explains that they were manufacturing weapons for illegal export. Batman demands to know who she is, but she tells him he’ll have to figure it out himself and escapes. He tracks her to Duquesne’s home, where he gets into a tussle with some bodyguards and Duquesne himself demands that Batman leave his property.

Now suspecting Duquesne’s daughter Kathy to be the Batwoman, Bruce and Alfred spend the next day tailing her as she goes on a shopping spree. She incidentally recruits Bruce to help her escape her bodyguards in a shopping center, and he agrees. The two of them speed off in her car and she tells him about herself, her mother, and how she blames her father for her mother’s death before they are located by her bodyguards and she agrees to go home.

Batman immediately passes on his suspicions about Kathy and her potential motive of revenge for her mother’s death to Commissioner Gordon, Sonia, and Bullock, and shares the information regarding the Penguin’s illicit weapons factory. The police put a tail on Kathy while Bruce researches her on his own.

Batwoman breaks into Thorne’s office to photograph evidence from his files as Thorne and the Penguin decide their next steps in completing their arms deal in light of the destruction of their factory. She is discovered, but escapes after a scuffle with the men. Later, Kathy overhears her father Duquesne raging as he discovers that the Penguin, with Thorne’s support, has called in additional help to complete the deal.

At Wayne Tech, Rocky shows Robin how to reach a game’s bonus level. Bruce reminds him that Alfred is waiting for him. Rocky tells Bruce she has been working late, but their casual chat is interrupted by the arrival of Kathy Duquesne, who has dressed up and come to ask Bruce out that evening.

Sonia and Bullock follow Kathy and Bruce to the Iceberg Lounge, a club owned by the Penguin and filled with Duquesne’s associates. They are greeted warmly by the Penguin himself. Bruce asks Kathy about her intentions in bringing him to a place full of her father’s associates that are sure to report to him, and she takes offense to his tone and excuses herself from their table. Meanwhile, the Penguin takes a telephone call from his new associate, who has agreed to assist with their arms deal and will meet him at the club shortly. Batwoman, lurking in the shadows of the Penguin’s office, is spotted as he completes his phone call. She restrains him with a metallic device and begins questioning him about his new associate, but the Penguin manages to push a panic button under his desk, causing two of his lackeys to come to his aid just as he reveals that it is Bane who will be helping to facilitate the arms deal.

The fight that ensues sends Batwoman through the office wall and crashing onto the club’s dance floor, causing immediate chaos and confusion. Sonia and Bullock outside the club call for backup as patrons flee the continuing battle. Just as the Penguin has Batwoman cornered, Batman swoops in to prevent him from shooting her. Batwoman is able to escape and as she flies away, Batman sees that Kathy is standing in a nearby doorway - she cannot have been Batwoman. Distracted by this revelation, Batman is caught off-guard by a chair to the back and is knocked into the pool at the center of the club. The Penguin starts shooting into the water as Batman sets up an underwater explosive to destroy the pool and serve as a distraction to allow him to slip away. 

Bruce escorts Kathy safely home, where they exchange apologies about the evening at the door. They nearly kiss, but are interrupted when one of the bodyguards enters and tells her that Duquesne is looking for her. Kathy leaves with the bodyguard once again. 

Batman and Sonia discuss the information they’ve uncovered at the lounge. Sonia points out that Kathy must not be Batwoman as they were seen at the lounge at the same time. Bruce provides Sonia with a piece of the restraining device that Batwoman had used on the Penguin as a piece of potential evidence. Sonia intimates that Batman saved her life nine years prior, during an arson fire set by Thorne’s lackeys, and that this incident is what led to her becoming a detective. Working in the batcave, Bruce identifies the material used in Batwoman’s restraining device as the same programmable alloy that Rocky was working with at Wayne Tech.

Rocky goes to prison visitation to see her boyfriend Kevin, who has been serving the past four years after being convicted of a crime actually committed by the Penguin. She tells him she is trying to get someone who works for the Penguin to talk, and Kevin expresses his displeasure that she is putting herself in danger by spying on known criminals. Kevin breaks up with her, telling her not to waste her time when it will be another five years before he will even be eligible for parole. She returns home and finds Batman waiting for her. He accuses her of being Batwoman, explaining he is aware that her boyfriend was framed and that he has found her more advanced designs for her alloy on her home computer. Rocky denies that she has done anything illegal, and Batman warns her about the dangers of continued vigilantism as Batwoman.

Thorne and the Penguin meet up with Duquesne to go meet with their new associate, tailed by Batwoman. After discussing the terms of their agreement, Bane and the Penguin go over their plans to transport the weapons that night, sailing them out to international waters onboard a luxury cruise ship. Batwoman listens in.

Batman abruptly realizes that he knew Rocky’s whereabouts during one of the previous Batwoman sightings, thus she cannot have been Batwoman either. Alfred passively remarks that she can’t be in two places at once unless she has the power to duplicate herself, causing Batman to consider that Kathy and Rocky could both be using the Batwoman persona. He asks Robin to investigate any possible link between the two women and goes to search for further evidence himself.

Batwoman returns to her secret lair with the details of the criminals’ plans in hand. Rocky appears from the shadows and says that Batman is onto her and will surely ruin their plans. As she worries, Kathy also enters the scene and agrees with her that Batman has been catching on too quickly. Batwoman points out that he thought Kathy was Batwoman only two days before and was now accusing Rocky, so he would probably move on to suspecting someone else soon. Removing her mask, Batwoman - revealed to be Sonia - assures them that she would know about it if he had any new theories. They are too close to success to quit now, and just have to stop the shipment tonight.

Batman breaks into Kathy’s room and begins searching for evidence that might tie her to Rocky or the Batwoman persona. As he stands in her art studio, flipping through her sketchbook, Robin contacts him to report that he has found no connection between them. Batman, however, recognizes one of the sketches, and tells Robin that the two women just needed someone to introduce them.

Kathy and Sonia review their plans to infiltrate the cruise ship carrying the weapons. Rocky provides Kathy with a bomb to destroy the weapons onboard, and Kathy sets out as Batwoman to disrupt the shipment. She boards just as the ship is leaving the harbor and successfully reaches the weapons cache, but as she is preparing to set the explosive she is suddenly attacked by Bane.

Thorne, the Penguin, and Duquesne are waiting for word of their success when the telephone rings. Bane has called them to report that he has captured the Batwoman and is waiting for them in the harbor. The three men hurry to leave.

Sonia is watching the ship from a rooftop when Batman joins her and accuses her of knowing Kathy. He shows her the drawing from Kathy’s sketchbook - a younger Sonia - and says that the two of them took art classes together. He then accuses that she also knows Rocky, Sonia attempts to deny this, but Batman knows that they were roommates as college freshmen. He continues his accusations by identifying her as the mastermind of their Batwoman scheme. Sonia, obligingly, delivers her Motive Rant about her desire to get revenge on Thorne for having ruined her parents’ business with his arson fire. As they stand in a moment of tension, Sonia’s phone rings. Rocky has called to report that something has gone terribly wrong with their plan, and asks Sonia what they are going to do.

The Penguin, Thorn, and Duquesne take a speedboat to rendezvous with the cruise ship in the harbor. Unknown to them, Batman and Robin follow via submarine. Onboard the cruise ship, the trio meet with Bane, who has captured Batwoman. Bane explains that he called them once he figured out who she was, and removes Batwoman’s mask, revealing Kathy to her father and his associates. Thorne and the Penguin immediately accuse Duquesne of duplicity, while Bane shows them the bomb she intended to plant onboard.

Duquesne and Kathy argue bitterly about their mutual feelings of betrayal. The Penguin realizes that he also saw Kathy and Batwoman at the club at the same time, and thus she must have accomplices. He threatens her with toxic gases, much to the dismay of Duquesne. Bane restrains Duquesne while the Penguin continues interrogating her, only to be interrupted once again by the arrival of Batman, who disarms Thorne and begins to battle Bane. Kathy, her hands cuffed behind her back, manages to kick the Penguin away and get her shackled hands in front of her before Batman grabs her mid-Tarzan Swing. They flee as Thorne shoots one of the plasma rifles at them, causing large amounts of destruction.

Bane contacts the crew to have them begin sailing out towards international waters as quickly as possible. Robin tails the cruise ship in the submarine, while in-costume Rocky and Sonia fly in, awaiting a signal from Batman. Thorne and Duquesne argue, while the Penguin notices that the bomb is missing, causing Bane to threaten Duquesne. Batman and Kathy have escaped to an engine room, where he removes her handcuffs and informs her that her friends are here to rescue her. Kathy plants the bomb, warning him that it can’t be removed without detonating and they now have two minutes before the explosion.

Thorne and the Penguin retreat to the speedboat, where they are spotted by the other Batwomen, who disarm them and demand to know Kathy’s location. Kathy and Batman escape to an outer pool deck, only to discover a chained and beaten Duquesne being swung above the pool by Bane. Bane tosses Duquesne into the pool, and Kathy dives in after him while Batman meets Bane. Underwater, Kathy attempts to unchain her father while Batman and Bane fight. When Bane is knocked from the higher deck of the ship while tangled in his own chain, Duquesne and Kathy are both rapidly pulled out of the water. Batman manages to ensure that they are on the deck before the bomb detonates, knocking him off the higher deck.

There are several inexplicable explosions that follow the bomb blast. Fire rapidly overtakes the weapon stores, which leads to another, larger explosion. The crew abandons ship. Rocky is seen flying with her cape and cowl on fire, which she removes. Sonia has been knocked into the water by the blast. Rocky swims to rescue her, but the Penguin spots her from the speedboat and attempts to run them over. Robin deflects the speedboat with the submarine, and takes Sonia aboard, leaving Rocky free to pursue the speedboat.

Bane and Batman continue their battle, which Batman, outmatched and injured, attempts to flee. Kathy is dangling by her cape from a piece of debris over a crater in the damaged ship. Duquesne looks over the ledge above her, sees her in this predicament, and crawls away. Her cape begins tearing, and she struggles to hold onto it, until a life ring is thrown down. Kathy grabs onto the life ring and Duquesne hauls her up to safety.

Thorne and the Penguin lament the sinking ship as they depart on the speedboat, commenting that at least it will take some Bats with it as it sinks. Rocky suddenly grapples onto the back of their boat from her rocket glider. Thorne attempts to shoot her down, but she uses the cable to entangle a buoy, which jerks the speedboat to a sudden stop and throws Thorne and the Penguin into the harbor.

Batman and Bane continue to fight, with Batman deploying a restraint device much like the one previously used on the Penguin by Batwoman. This manages to incapacitate Bane long enough that Batman can grapple himself away just before the ship strikes a bridge and runs aground. The impact causes Bane to fall into a pit of fire that is entirely without context. Batman dangles from his grappling device attached to the bridge, injured by Bane and struggling to hold on. Sonia, on her own rocket glider, manages to rescue him before he falls into the flaming debris below. Rocky and Sonia, Batman in tow, both confirm that Kathy and Duquesne are secure on another boat. Firefighters attempt to extinguish the blazing wreck as Commissioner Gordon and Detective Bullock observe the scene from a police boat. Sonia, unmasked, flies over to them to deliver the injured Batman to Commissioner Gordon.

At police headquarters, Sonia packs up her desk. Batman appears and expresses his belief that the city is losing a good cop with her exit. She reminds him that she is lucky she is not being prosecuted for her actions. Batman gives her an envelope, which he explains contains exculpatory evidence that will allow Rocky’s boyfriend Kevin to be released, and leaves.

Rocky and Kathy loiter outside the prison. Kathy explains that she used to hate her father, but now feels sorry for him since he’s been locked up. She inquires about Bruce, who she says has not been in contact with her since their disastrous date. The pair are interrupted by Kevin, freshly released. He and Rocky embrace, apparently no longer broken up. Kathy leaves them, only to find Bruce leaning against her car, waiting for her. The two of them drive off together as the credits music begins.

Do I even have the energy to review this?

It’s now been seven hours since I started watching this movie, which I was neither over- nor underwhelmed by. Consider me demiwhelmed maybe. The scene at the Iceberg Lounge includes an inexplicable pop song called Betcha Never which is performed by a cartoon cameo of the actual artist, Cherie, who was not to my knowledge even remotely recognizable or notable to the target audience of animated Batman films at the time. Overall it has not aged super well. 

The Metrics:

Bechdel Test: Failed. The three women don’t get a ton of screen time together, and when they do, they are exclusively talking about men.

Mako Mori Test: Failed. Each of these women is motivated solely by a desire to act against men who have wronged them, and do so whilst partially usurping the identity of another man. One of them is acting against a man who wronged another man and not herself.

Representation, etc:

For a movie that’s nominally about three women it’s kind of a shitshow in how it perceives and portrays women, even aside from the issues of their motivations mentioned above. Kathy is a major victim of this in particular.

Early on in the film, Alfred makes a reference to the Rudyard Kipling poem The Female of the Species. This is a fairly common cultural reference, but a sexist poem espousing sexist views. 

Kathy Duquesne is shown to be an avid and frivolous shopping enthusiast. At one point, while shopping, she says “Worst thing that could happen is I’ll need a size eight,” which is one of the most disturbingly open instances of body-shaming I’ve ever heard in media meant for CHILDREN.

Kathy is catcalled repeatedly by men who are presumably associates of her FATHER at the Iceberg Lounge, and this is not treated as harmful or even particularly bothersome to her.

Kathy’s father literally raises his hand to backhand her and tells her to shut up after she has been unmasked. This is, again, children’s media.

Bruce receives a brief call from Barbara Gordon in which she behaves jealously about the idea of a Batwoman and is openly flirtatious with him. Bruce appears to be in his 30s, Barbara is away at college and presumably no older than 21. Bruce gets out of this conversation by rustling papers and pretending his cell signal is breaking up.

All three female characters have essentially identical body models and extremely similar facial features. It would be extremely difficult to tell them apart if they weren’t designed as a white/black/latina trio.

When Rocky rescues Sonia who is at risk of drowning in the harbor, the way they are drawn and physically interact seems very much a creation by and for the male gaze. They also somehow manage to float in the water at about lower ribcage level, keeping those breasts well above the surface in clear defiance of the laws of physics.

There’s a ~fun~ little nugget of homophobia at one point when Rocky and Bruce are chatting. Rocky mentions that she is working late, but her boyfriend is very understanding. She then asks, “what about yours?” Before Bruce even reacts, she panics and corrects herself, clarifying that she meant girlfriend. Bruce, to his credit, responds that he doesn’t have anybody special.

Final Scores: 

Deaths: Batman doesn’t like killing people, so probably none. Bane did fall in that weird pit of flames though.

Smooches: None. Nearly one, interrupted.

Sex: None; this is for kids.

Substance Use/Abuse: Nope.

Violence: Moderate to heavy by kids standards, but I’d say about average for the superhero genre.

Profanity: None. 

Watch with Kids: I have real problems with the way women are portrayed in this and I probably wouldn’t let a child watch it.

Watch with Parents: Nothing in here is NSFP.

Sally Says: This is probably for DCAU/Batman fans only. Y’all, it’s been over nine hours since I started watching this freaking movie. It’s technically tomorrow for me now.

[jj-lynn21]

You will remember things that we never said ch 3

Warning: flirting, fluff?, angst, jealousy

 Dolly Trauma Songs: Fade into you (cover)   Alastis: , Sky May Fahl , Stitch  

ch 1, ch 2   ch 4  ch 5  ch 6  ch 7

Stephanie is in the art building after another class. She sees Axel in passing. She smiles. He nods stopping.

“Zeigeist is playing Thursday and Saturday night, you coming?” Axel asks.

Stephanie shrugs, “Most, probably.” She thinks, who in the hell says most, probably.

“Well, I hope so.” He darts into the bathroom.

Stephanie is flying high emotionally as she steps outside to the sunshiny crisp day. Her sunglasses come out of her hoodie pocket to cover her sensative eyes. Her legs feel weak the more she thinks about Axel hoping to see her. Of course, she does realize it is another five dollars at the door and that is how his band gets paid. But maybe its just a little more.

That evening she catches Bella as soon as she come in from class, “Hey, you want to go see Zeigeist Thursday and Saturday.”

“Since Dark Breed is also playing those shows, I’m in.” Bella stated drably not nearly as excited as Stephanie.

Stephanie is unfocused as she tries to read her history lesson. Axel had her core aching like she had never known without even touching her today. Barely talking to her really. She decided to work on his portrait. Her tongue stuck out the corner of her lips as she focused to get his eyes just right. She worked on it a few hours. She was lost in thought sitting on her bed trying to per-fect his look, which she knew was impossible really, when Bella knocked on her bedroom door.

“You going to your afternoon class today?” Bella had her arms crossed across her chest and legs crossed at the ankles as she leaned against the door jam. “I didn’t think you ever skipped.”

Stephanie looked up at her, glanced at her cellphone, “Oh fuck. I’m going to be late.” She tossed the picture aside. “Thanks Bella.”

“Watch getting so wrapped up in um,” Bella glances at the drawing. “Your studies.”

“Sure thing,” Stephanie runs out the door to class after grabbing her bag.

Stephanie made it to class a second before the professor walks in and started his discussion about sculptures in ancient Greece. She rushes to the closest seat in the back of the room sitting and grabbing a notebook to start taking notes.

Since she is in the back Axel sees her writing madly to catch up. He stops to take in how she looks in such a flustered state. Then he moves on just as she looks up to see him go past. She tries to shake off the thoughts in her mind so she can try to concentrate on taking notes.

After class Stephanie heads to the student union to grab coffee and dinner. As she walks in one door, Axel is walking out the other side. They don’t notice each other. She walks out the same door he did and heads to her next class eating and drinking in route. 

She has two more classes before going back to her and Bella’s dorm for the evening. Stephanie and Axel pass each other many more times through the rest of the week without even realizing it most of the time. Or one sees the other without both parties seeing each other. Its fates cosmic joke perhaps.

Thursday rolls around. Stephanie finds herself to excited to really study. But she does finish Axel’s portrait for Monday. At eight-thirty that evening her and Bella walk to Hide & Seek for the show. Todd is taking money at the door. He waves her in at no change.

Todd whispers, “Just don’t tell anyone.”

Stephanie nods. She thinks, there goes the theory Axel wanted me here just for another five dollars through the door. She hears Drake, the drummer for Zeitgeist, warming up as her and Bella grab beers at the bar. She drags Bella to the front of the stage with her. Todd and Tyson join Drake warming up. Stephanie’s heart beats faster waiting for Axel to appear. Zeitgeist starts the music for their first song of the evening, Alastis. The Mosh pit circles each other. Bella and others watch the pit guarding Stephanie from becoming part of that scene as her big blue doe eyes fixate on Axel as he comes out and grabs the Mic. This is one of the band’s heaver songs.

“Now I got the time to watch you run(watch you), I can’t see what’s made you afraid, see I have my cynical side, save my fingers up, make you shake, go on, go on…COWARD!..” 

The pit goes nuts. Stephanie screams along with others.

Axel continues, “ Now I got the time to think for us, sacrificing all the control, you do nothing passionately (As I like), such endorphins I need in soul, What I write, I say, what I write…I keep true, I keep it real, it real, What I write, I say…” He leans down with the Mic looking right at Stephanie. “Still I wanna go down and take you there.” He stands looking back out to the audience while the band rips into the songs heavy sounds as Stephanie’s core tightens and lets loose juices dampening her panties. “Got time to fuck me, but you got no time to fuck me. I can’t believe the faces that you think you fake. Why go out tonight, why stay home…I stay home.”

“I’m going to slow things down,” Axel said to the crowd. “You guys and I see a few chicks involved to, are fucking monsters in the pit. We don’t perform to many covers, but we’ve fucked around with this one over the week. It’s called Fade into You  . He turns his back to the crowd of screaming fans, mumbles into the mic, “for Stephanie.”  

Stephanie’s eyes widen. Bella shakes her head like this is the worst idea Axel ever had.

 Axel starts singing with his back to the crowd. “I want to hold the hand inside you, I want to take a breath that's true, I look to you and I see nothing, I look to you to see the truth, You live your life, you go in shadows, You'll come apart and you'll go black, Some kind of night into your darkness, Colors your eyes with what's not there” 

Stephanie’s eyes are closed as she rocks back and forth singing along. Axel turns around, “Fade into you, Strange you never knew, Fade into you, I think it's strange you never knew, A stranger's light comes on slowly, A stranger's heart without a home, You put your hands into your head, And then smiles cover your heart…”

 Axel kneels in front of Stephanie. “Fade into you, Strange you never knew…” She opens her eyes seeing him there with his eyes closed singing. She closes her eyes again just feeling the moment through her entire body, “Fade into you, I think it's strange you never knew…”

He stands to finish the song. After Axel finishes, he disappears off the side of the stage. Stephanie wants to go check on him but there is no way for her to get through the sea of people. Todd puts his guitar and amp to the side off stage as Dark Breed setup for their set.

He grabs a few beers before making his way to Stephanie, “Hey, Steph.” She turns around to him. He hands her a beer. “Axel wanted to stay to hangout after the show, but he wasn’t feeling well so took off already. He wasn’t feeling well all day but didn’t want to disappoint you, so we still played.”

“Oh, it’s cool,” Stephanie acted like it didn’t faze her. “Is he going to be ok?”

“Yeah, he’ll be fine to sing Saturday.” Todd informed her. “Oh, let me get your number so Axel can message you the address for the club we’re playing Saturday. It’s a dive bar in the middle of nowhere called Cigs.”

Todd takes a piece of paper and pen from his pocket. Stephanie writes her info on it.

“Take care of him tonight Todd,” She was concerned.

Todd chuckled, “Will do. You are to sweet for this scene. Be careful. That pits about to get ignited.”

Bella walks up between Stephanie and Todd. “Axel already ditch her?”

Todd ignored Bella’s comment. “I’ll catch you later Steph.”

“See you guys Saturday night,” Stephanie decided to ignore Bella’s comment also.

Ryan came over as the heavy metal sound of Dark Breed started to thunder. “Hey, girls. Can I get you a few more beers?”

Stephanie finished the one she had, “Sure Ryan, thanks.”

Bella nodded she wanted one or more also. She held up five fingers.

Somehow, he got through the crowd and back with a buck of beers. The three of them sucked them down as they jumped around to the pounding music. Stephanie and Bella were laughing as they held each other. Several big guys stood between them and the frantic chaos going on in the pit. At some point, Stephanie wasn’t sure how or why, she was holding Ryan’s shirt as he flung around into others in the pit.

The three of them walked back to the dorms together. Stephanie and Bella hanging on each other. Ryan’s hands in his pockets on the opposite side of Stephanie as Bella. He was watching her laugh and smiling. 

“Did you see when Axel was actually in my face singing to me?” Stephanie’s body was on fire just thinking about it. Her eyes glossed over with intoxication.

“He should have never done that. “Bella spat on the ground disgusted how easily Stephanie was buying what Axel was selling.

“Well, he did so there is nothing you can do about it now.” Stephanie laughed.

Ryan looked away not wanting to hear yet another girl he liked fawn over Axel. He parted company with the girls as soon as he walked them safely to their dorm building. “I’ll catch you later.”

They both giggled, “Catch you later Ryan.”

Soon after they got in their bedroom, they crashed out cold. The sunlight streaming through Stephanie’s open curtain mid-afternoon hit her like sledgehammer. She cried out while pulling her hot pink comforter over her pounding head. She hears Bella stumbling around outside her door.

 Stephanie can’t remember the last time she had a hangover this bad. She jumped up as her stomach lurched. The room was spinning. She held the wall as she got to the restroom to puke as quickly as she could. She almost didn’t make it. Bella came in with ginger ale and aspirin. She held Stephanie’s hair back.

When she got Stephanie tucked back in bed she turned to leave, “I’ll bring you a bagel.”

“And coffee,” Stephanie mumble. “Strong, sweet, coffee.”

Bella laughed, “Alright Steph.”

“I need to study,” Stephanie grumbled her eyes barely open.

“Rest one more hour,” Bella left.

Stephanie might have dozed back off for a half hour when her cellphone buzzed with a message. She looked at it and sat right up.

      Axel:

      What’s up Stephanie. Its Axel.

      Stephanie:

      Hey, Axel. How are you feeling today? Todd said you left sick last night.

      Axel:

       I’m fine. Ate something yesterday that didn’t agree with me.

      Stephanie:

       Glad you’re feeling better

       Axel:

      Thanks, have to get back to work but here is the address for Saturday.

        1521 North outreach

        Stephanie:

        Thanks  

        Axel: ttyl

Stephanie gets up slowly. She grabs her rob to take  in to  put on after she gets a shower. Her head isn’t throbbing as much. Her stomach is only a little upset. After her hot shower washes what is left on her from last night, she drinks a few sips of a ginger ale. She opens one of her books to start studying.

Bella comes back with a bagel and coffee for Stephanie. “How you doing, babe?” She puts the coffee and bagel by Stephanie.

“I’m ok now, “She takes a nibble of the bagel and a gulp of coffee. “This should help wake me up more to study.”

“Good, I should study a little to.” Bella grabbed a book from her bag. “There is a horror movie starting tonight. We are going with Albre and Ryan, cool?”

“Yeah, sure.” She flips the full page of notes to the next empty page.

The evening rolls around and they walk to the local theater. Everyone is chatting along the way. Ryan is do his best to keep Stephanie laughing. After they grab some snacks Stephanie turns around and sees Axel a few steps away.

“Hi Axel,” She smiles at him.

He gives her no emotion in return which she senses is his normal response in most situations. Its one of the reasons she is fascinated with him. She can’t read him at all. Usually she reads people pretty well. “I’m here with Albre, Bella and Ryan.”

He just nods. Ryan offers his hand to shake. Axel almost breaks it as he stares him down. He turns away and goes in the theater with the guys he is there with. Ryan makes her laugh during an intense part of the movie. Axel glances at them seeing Ryan put his arm around her and Ryan’s hand sliding up her leg. He looks away fuming.

Stephanie drives Bella, Albre and Ryan to this show. The bar is at the end of a dark street. Only a field for parking around it. They are running a little late. Stephanie pulls everyone with her to the front where her eyes attack Axel. He focuses on everyone else in the audience as he starts performing even though he did see her out of the corner of his eye with Ryan, Albre and Bella around her.

“This is Sky May Fahl “ Axel screams. The crowd hoots and hollers. “God gave you legs, you got to find your way out, don’t call my name, I couldn’t care less, got to find your way out, This doesn’t fit your phony needs, got to find your way out, Another drink for everything, got to find your way out,NOW REALIZE I CARE, We could never be honest, we could never be have, like some father’s illusion, we don’t have to pretend. God gave you friends, some walked away, got to find your way out, Don’t call my name I couldn’t care less, got to find your way out. Suck up to them, suck up to me, got to find your way out, another drink for everything, got to find your way out. NOW REALIZE I CARE…We’ve come a long long way child, don’t want to miss you now…You went to Hell, you took it well, got to find your way out…don’t dissipate, don’t look to fade, got to find your way out, this boring day, this belly ache, got to find your way out, The sunrise remind you all of which way the sky will Fall…And I don’t care what you are…”

Axel throws the mic down making a loud distortion as he bolts off stage through the back.

Stephanie pushes her way through the crowd. She goes out the side door around the back of the building. Axel is banging his head against the wall not hard enough to bust his head open but hard enough to cause himself pain.

“What the Hell was that Axel,” Stephanie screamed her ears still ringing from the loud music. “Are you alright?”

“Get the fuck back inside Steph,” He stopped banging his head but stared at the wall. “You don’t really fucking care anyway.”

“What do you mean I don’t fucking care?” She didn’t have any idea why he was so angry.

“You can whore around with anyone you want,” He turned spitting the words at her. “But I don’t take sloppy seconds. I don’t share like that. So, go back in there with Ryan. I know you came with him.”

“What the fuck Axel?” She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “First I don’t know where you get off thinking I fucked Ryan and…”

“He had his hands all over you at the movies,” Axel glared at her. “He was making you laugh, and he was groping you and you fucking let him, you bitch.”

“Hold the fuck up Axel. I know what you thought you saw. Why the fuck were you watching anyway and stopped watching right before I grabbed his hand off my thigh and went to sit on the other side of my friends. And my second thing is I don’t want him; I want you, you asshole.” She leans against the wall, “You’re such a fucking dick.”

Axel leans his body onto hers against the wall as he takes her face in his hands making her look up at him. “You didn’t want him to touch you?”

Tears stream down her face, “No, I just want you to touch me.” Her lip quivers.

“I’m a fucking dick,” He leans down closer. “I’m sorry Stephanie, I’m such a jealous fucking dick.”

He kisses her deeply. Her hands ride along his waist.

“Hey, Axel,” Mick screams from the back entrance. “You going to finish your set or are we switching out?”

Axel rest his forehead on Stephanie’s both their eyes closed. “Go get in your spot babe. I need to do one more song for the masses. I’ll come get you when we are done.” He wipes her tears away before heading back inside, “I’m coming, startup Stitch. I got some shit to get out of my system.”

Stephanie composes herself the best she can before going inside.

Bella is waiting at the door. She notices Stephanie’s puffy red eye, “Are you alright baby girl?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” She attempts a smile but doesn’t quite have a complete one in her yet. “Let’s go up front where I’m suppose to be for Axel.” She gets right where he can see her. He nods his approval before ripping into the song.

After, they sit on a sofa in the back corner.  Stephanie lays on Axel’s shoulder. Most that go by nod a hello. Axel drinks a beer as he runs his hand through Stephanie’s wavy hair. 

“Your such a pretty girl Stephanie,” He’s starting to slur his words a little. 

“Thanks Axel,” She knows he was the one that said that first when others were calling her pretty. 

Todd comes over and sits by Axel. “Everyone good back here?”

“Yeah, Man, we’re cool now.” He leans over and kisses Stephanie softly.

“You driving him home Todd,” She was concerned since Axel seemed to drunk to drive.

“Yeah, I got him Steph.” He took Axel’s beer. “Hey bud let’s take off. We both have normal jobs in the morning.”

Everyone filtered out of the club. Stephanie was the only one awake as she drove Bella, Albre and Ryan home.

[thebeautifulisalwaysbizarre]

Emotion O’Pit (a tribute to Skam France)

So this is it, then. The day I thought would never come, the day I refused to see coming, the day I wish I could avoid. Tonight is the end, at least for now (until they announce a renewal, right?). I’m devastated and i’m going to keep being devastated for a while. I’m not ready to let go. I’m going to miss this show and these characters so much. They’re a part of me and it kinda feels like losing a limb, not gonna lie. Sounds childish, doesn’t it? I can only imagine how weird and blown out of proportions it can seem for an outsider. But i think anyone attached to this show as much as me gets it. I feel like i’ve lost something that was so rooted in my life that i have forgotten how it feels to live without it. I can’t recall another show that impacted me that much, that literally became my life. I can’t recall not anxiously waiting for a clip to drop, or for texts updates, or for ig posts. I can’t recall not clowning about the future. I dived into this on the seventh of January and I had no idea of what i was getting myself into. Twenty two weeks, almost half a year. So little time in the grand scheme of things, yet so much. So much that I can’t remember not being obsessed with this. I never got out since, and now i have to, and I don’t know how to do that. I’ll manage, sure, but for now i’m just extremely messy and sad. I’m scared, I’m terrified, but this is fine. Yet this post is not only a goodbye post. It’s not even a goodbye at all, it’s a “later”. As we say in French, it’s an “au revoir”. Until next time. I am sad, perhaps unhealthily sad, but i am so so happy and proud, and thankful. And i regret nothing. This show is something i never thought i would get to have in my own language, in my own country, in my own city. France is a mostly tolerant and open country, and i am lucky to live here, and to be able to live here, but it has also hate. A million people protesting against LGBT+ rights; islamophobia that becomes the norm because people are scared and scarred, so they hate; and racism so deeply rooted that people don’t even wonder anymore. And so much ignorance too. So many are like Ingrid, ignorant and hurtful without meaning it most of the times. Not filled with hate, but filled with so much ideas and prejudices it’s so hard to realize that what they say is wrong. And against those people, we have two choices: we can let their ideas spread and we can be slowly but surely consumed by hate, or we can try to save things, to salvage the values we love and follow. Skam France chose the second path. Of course it’s not perfect and has flaws, even major ones (Charles and Manon i’m looking at you), but the people making it, all of them, refused to watch things unfold without doing anything about it. They took the hardest decision, the one that states that you can change people and their ways of thinking, that you can educate them and show them that they are wrong, that we can’t give up because the fight is hard. Will it work? Will the behaviors change? I don’t know, nobody knows for sure, and i don’t pretend to say that Skam France will change my country and erase some of its problems. I like to believe I am neither that naive nor that pretentious. But it could be one of the many stones that build the edifice. It could help. And above all, even if nothing changes, even if hate consumes things after all, at least some people out there will have tried to change that course. But I don’t think all hope is lost, i believe that media and cultural products can change the way a society lives and thinks. Call me a naive optimist, but i really have faith that some of the people that are ignorant today would be willing to learn tomorrow. Skam France, and all of the other things that fight for minorities, will not be for nothing. I refuse to believe that. So this post is a tribute and a thank you for not giving up, for believing that “hate spreads, but fortunately love does too”, for trusting that “love always wins” in the end, that it doesn’t balance out. That love is stronger than hate, and that it will always be, no matter what. Thank you for characters that feel so real they could be my friends. Thank you for mains in which we see so much of ourselves. Thank you for Emma and Manon and Lucas and Imane, and their stories and their fights. Thank you for all of the people around them, helping them, accepting them, loving them. Thank you for the ones that didn’t stick around because they were scared, or ignorant, or vicious, and proved that, even if it’s hard and painful and shouldn’t exist, you choose your family. Thank you for the love stories and the friendships. Thank you for showing us that we are never alone, and that we are never unlovable, no matter what our brain and body are made of. Thank you for the musics and the cinematography. Thank you for the weeks of agony and the weeks of laugher. Thank you for the endless stress and clowning and joy and frustration and despair and relief.  And most of all, thank you for my friends. Thank you for having given me people that i cherish with everything that i have, and that i love so much it terrifies me sometimes. Clara, thank you for this. I can never be grateful enough for what you have gifted us with. To you all, thank you for everything too. Thank you for the clown empire (i’m going to miss our crazy theories more than anything) and the advice and the endless support. Thank you for showing me that i might deserve happiness. Thank you for listening to me and being my collective Gerôme. Thank you for making me slightly more secure and slightly prouder. Thank you for the laughs and the tears. Thank you for all the vendreading (there will be more, I will keep on believing that until I am proven the contrary), and for Corentin, and for noises, and for the weather, and for Joel Dixie, and for nails and saints, and for pineapple and sunit and déodorant. Thank you for teaching me so many things. Thank you for being so awesome all day every day. And thank you for what’s yet to come, because we are not going anywhere. Thank you for the weekend coming, and August, and everything before, in the middle and after that. We are together, whatever happens next. Les Élus are a team, and we will continue our usual chaos. It’ll be “Chaos in The Discord, minute by minute”, and that is a promise. I won’t let you go. I love you.  Lastly, there is this quote from Doctor Who that i found fitting to the occasion: “Everything ends and it's always sad, but everything begins again, too. And that's always happy. Be happy.” So, to whoever is reading that, be happy. Be proud. Be kind. Be loving. 

[sirius-archive]

Chaos Theory Part 6

Pairing: Cedric Diggory x Reader, Draco Malfoy x Reader, Harry Potter x Reader, others. 

Warnings: Swearing 

Word Count: 5641

A/N: I finished this in one! day! can you believe it?? Anyway, some things worth mentioning: a) after this chapter, things are going to start progressing quickly through the months. So far its sort of been day by day but this story has to span over three years so...yeah. I can’t drag it on for too long b) I’m going away for a week so I’m not sure when part seven will be released c) i have redesigned my masterlist! check it out in my description and, finally, d) shawn mendes will be my new cedric for my gif headers! not important but at the same time really important. Anyway, I’ll shut up now. Here. 

Chapter Six: 

Everyone has secrets to hide

The carriage ride up to Hogwarts is silent, tense and almost insufferable.

Ron’s barely spoken a word since his encounter with Draco, and though you weren’t present, you can only imagine how it went down. His mouth is twisted into a thin frown as he fixes a glare on the floor of the carriage, body rigid with frustration. A dark red flush singes the tips of his ears, a result of his sour mood that simmers beneath his skin.

Hermione keeps eying you with a calculating look, as though she’s dissecting your thoughts and body language and tagging each movement carefully. Her lips are pressed together in a thin line like she’s taming her words back into her throat and is silently forcing them into that spot beneath her sternum where all her other secrets lay hidden. She keeps fiddling with the hem of her robes, weaving the fabric between her fingers to stifle her nervous twitch.

Harry stares out the window, watching the rain and refusing to meet your eye in some sort of silent protest against you. He’s hard to read when he’s like this; silent and solemn and withdrawn into those deep, dark crevices in his mind. You think about reaching out and covering his hand with yours but think better of it.

Guilt plucks your ribs. You should never have left them.

It feels stupid, starting the school year like this. As a group, you’ve been through worse things. You’ve all faced bigger enemies and worse life-threatening circumstances. Why should a couple of secrets stand in the way of a friendship that has endured so much danger?

“So, what were you guys talking about before I arrived?” You ask, curiously glancing between Ron, Hermione and Harry. Harry bristles ever so slightly.

“We were just speculating about what Charlie and Bill were banging on about earlier,” Ron replies, hastily.

“Draco mentioned something too,” Harry snips, his voice clipped and cold.

“Something is supposed to be happening?” You ask, and Harry shrugs.

“I wish they’d just tell us already,” Ron whined, “I’ve had it with all this secrecy. Just spit it out already.”

“We’ll probably find out tonight,” Hermione deduces, and the carriage sinks into silence again.

Lightning forks across the sky, flooding the carriage with white light before evaporating in an instant. Raindrops feel like bullets pounding on the roof, trying to get inside.

“I can’t wait to eat,” you blurt, cradling your stomach, “The welcoming feast is all I’ve been thinking about...”

“Oh yes,” Hermione agrees, the beginning of a smile tickling her lips, “and I can’t wait to watch the Sorting Ceremony!”

“Welcoming the first years,” you smile fondly, “Merlin, remember our first year?”

“How could I forget?” Hermione sighs, “That was the year we first learned Wingardium Leviosa!”

“So you’re not going to mention the fact that our Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher was a fraud with You Know Who attached to his head like some sort of evil fungus?” Ron snaps, coldly.

Hermione narrows her eyes and speaks carefully, composedly, “Well, yes, I thought that was fairly obvious though-”

“Aw, remember Norbert?” you interject, hurriedly, “Remember watching him hatch?”

“Yeah,” Harry says, distantly, “Remember how hard it was to smuggle him out of Hogwarts?”

“Ooh and you impersonated the Bloody Baron to keep Peeves off our tracks? That was so clever...”

You catch a hint of a smile ghosting across Harry’s face, though it’s obscured by the low light, “We still got in trouble, though,”

“It was worth it,” you say, thinking back to Hagrid's concerned face, “I can’t imagine what sort of trouble Hagrid would have gotten into if he was discovered. And Norbert was such a cute, little baby...”

“That ‘cute little baby’ nearly killed me,” Ron snaps, fingers grazing the scar on his hand.

Hermione scoffs, “I think that’s a bit of an exaggeration.”

“Uh, no, not really,” Ron barks, indignantly, “Unless you forgot about the part where I was in the Hospital Wing for weeks after that thing poisoned me with its tiny, little devil fangs.”

“Ron, he bit you out of self-defence.”

“Well maybe if Hagrid were more strict-“

“-Don’t blame Hagrid for your own stupidity-“

“-Oh, so now I’m stupid?”

“-Well, only a fool would try to feed a dragon at night.”

“We’re nearly there!” You exclaim, deliberately raising your voice over Ron and Hermione’s argument. You point out of the window to the Hogwarts castle, using it as a distraction from the knot tugging in your stomach.

A heavy silence looms over the carriage again. Ron and Hermione have turned away from each other, both of them stubbornly staring out of the window. You glance at Harry who glances back at you uneasily, and though it’s only a brief exchange, a shimmer of hope bursts inside of you.

Harry looks away, unaware of your hovering fingers that draw closer to his hand, reluctant to touch the skin of his knuckles. Before you can make contact, the carriage rolls to a stop and, to your regret and dismay, the opportunity passes.

The carriage doors fly open, and Ron and Hermione slip out wordlessly. Harry gives you a side glance before climbing out himself. You follow his lead and quicken your pace to catch up with him and Ron. The four of you bow your heads to avoid the rain and climb up the flight of steps hastily. By the time you reach the great, oak doors, you are completely soaked and shivering against the cool air.

The doors swing open and you all pile into the entrance hall, dripping wet as you slip and slide across the floor. The doors close shut behind you as you crowd around the entrance hall, waiting for Professor McGonagall.

“Hey, (Y/N),” says a meek voice from behind you and Neville Longbottom’s shy, dimpled face comes into view, “How were your holidays?”

“Hi, Neville,” you beam, “They were...eventful. Thanks for asking. How were yours?”

Neville glances at his feet, “The opposite, actually. I had to help Nan with her bunions. They’re the size of golf balls and the only thing that helps shrink them is this cream made from mandrake puss and garden-knome salvia. Then I had to poke a hole in her bunions and–oh my god, why am I telling you this?”

Neville smacks his forehead with such a loud slap, it nearly startles you. He winces and rubs the red mark emerging right in the middle of his forehead, “You probably don’t want to hear that.”

You chuckle at his bashful expression and loop your arm through his, “It’s okay. But before I forget, I should thank you for sending me your Herbology book. It worked miracles.”

“Oh, it was nothing,” he murmurs, fumbling with his robes, “Just helping a friend in need.”

“Well it certainly helped me, big time,” you say, giving him an encouraging smile, “I’m absolutely rubbish at Herbology but that book really helped me with my essay. I have it in my trunk so when we get back to the castle, I’ll give it back to you.”

“Nah, you can have it,” Neville shrugs, not meeting your eye, “I mean, if you want it, that is..”

You consider him fondly in the low light, clamping your bottom lip between your teeth thoughtfully. Neville glances at his feet, ducking his chin to hide his blush.

“That’s very generous of you…thank you.”

Neville shrugs again, all sweet and bashful, an adorable, pink flush rising up his neck.

“So,” Neville starts, scratching the back of his neck, “How come you weren’t with Harry today, in the compartment? I missed you...”

“Oh, I was sitting with...another friend,” as you say it, a thought pops into your head and you perk up a little straighter, “Hey do you know anything about Noah Underwood?”

Neville’s brows furrow in thought, “Not really. He’s in Slytherin and he’s a muggle-born. Oh, and he hangs around the greenhouses a lot.”  

“He does?” You ask and Neville nods. You beam at him and wrap your arms around his shoulders, pulling him into a hug, “Thank you so much!”

Neville freezes at first, but his shock fades as he hugs you back, “No-No problem.”

“Hey! (Y/N)!” A familiar voice calls out to you from behind and you turn, finding Harper Shacklebolt charging toward you. The editor and chief of The Howler looks harried but determined and strikingly beautiful as she shoves a sixth-year Ravenclaw aside to reach you. Her braids are pulled back into a bun worthy of McGonagall’s praise, and she has the kind of fierce passion in her dark eyes that could strike fear in the hearts of all the boys around her.

“Hi Harper,” You smile, untangling yourself from around Neville’s shoulders “How were your holidays?”

Harper nods dismissively, “They were fine. Listen, we’re having a meeting this evening after the welcoming feast in the Newsroom. Be there at eight thirty. There will be a few announcements and new members joining us.”

You nod and wave as she charges off, slipping into a second-year Hufflepuff as she leaves.

Beside you, Ron and Harry are engaged in a whispered conversation. You try to lean into the conversation, easing yourself closer slowly, slowly, slowly...

And then you’re slipping.

Harry catches you before you can hit the ground, his hands flying to your waist and holding you close. You’re close enough to feel his heart hammering in his chest, sending shockwaves down your spine. Harry tears his hands away from you a second too late. Beside you, Ron snorts a laugh and reaches over to pat your head affectionately.

“Sorry, (Y/N),” Neville splutters, blushing furious shades of red, “I–er–I didn’t mean to bump into you– I’m such an idiot–”

“No it’s okay,” you breathe, voice trembling as the warmth from Harry’s touch ghosts over your waist, heating your skin beneath your clothes. Neville opens his mouth to apologise more but he doesn’t get the chance.

Professor McGonagall dashes our of the Great Hall, nearly colliding with a student. 

“Well hurry up you lot,” She snaps, ironing her hands down the front of her robes as she composes herself, “The Sorting Ceremony will begin in ten minutes time and we have a very important announcement to make!”

***

The Howler’s Newsroom is alive with excitement.

Seven loyal and dedicated members of the weekly newsletter crowd around, chatting animatedly about the exciting announcement. It’s wonderful being back and seeing all the friendly faces that you have known since you joined last year. You watch them all with mild interest.

Anthony ‘Ant’ Goldstein, comic artist for the newsletter, hovers near the door looking exasperated as he listens to an excitable Colin Creevey, a new member to the team.

Standing next to Harper is Daisy Tate, a Slytherin in Harper’s year and also Head Photographer. She seems to be staring down at something, her stoic expression as bland as ever.  

Next to Daisy stands Troy Hammond, the Head Artist, who always has acrylic paint under his nails and a paintbrush tucked behind his ear. Troy has always been a kind and gentle person, always willing to sit and listen if you ever have problems, and he often finds himself doing so a lot. He also happens to be one of Cedric’s best friends...

Go figure

The last two members of the team are actually sitting on either side of you; Padma Patil, a Writer like yourself, and Dean Thomas, an artist. As you and Padma murmur excitedly, Dean sketches a quick portrait of you and Padma, the tip of his tongue poking out from between his lips as he concentrates.

“So that’s what all the fuss was about,” Padma’s eyes shimmer as her smile grows, “A Triwizard Tournament! How exciting!”

“I know!” You grin, twirling your quill in your hand, “My mum always used to tell stories to Luke and I when we were kids. Never thought it would happen though it’s a shame about Quidditch.”

“Yes, terribly,” Padma muses, but her smile reappears, “We’re going to have so much to write about this year in the Howler!”

“Indeed,” Harper says, and everyone falls silent at the sound of her voice, “Which is precisely what this meeting will be about. Before I continue, though, we will be introducing some new members to our team.”

Harper strides toward the door and pulls it open, and Juniper Cross enters. The Hufflepuff head girl looks startlingly beautiful with yellow flowers pinned to her thick Afro and a radiant smile drawn across her face. You hear the whole room exhale a breath of admiration in her presence.

“She always looks so lovely,” Padma whispers, equal parts in awe and envy of Juniper, “I think she uses that special antioxidant cream every night.”

You bite your lip as Juniper grins, standing next to Harper.

“Ah I’m so excited to be joining the team,” Juniper cheers, voice kind and sweet as honey, “I can’t wait to get to work with you all!”

“Don’t you have Head Girl duties or something?” Anthony blurts, and Harper shoots him a glare.

Juniper smiles gracefully, “Yes. But my role in this team will not be as predominant as the rest of you. With both Professor McGonagall blessing, I will be Head of the Astrology section of the newsletter.”

“Astrology section?” Anthony’s brows furrow, “Isn’t that just staring into a tea cup and hoping for the best?”

To everyone’s surprise, Juniper actually laughs.

“Don’t worry, at first I had my doubts about Astrology but then I discovered that some people have the gift, while others...” she trails off,  looking pointedly at Ant, “...Don’t. I find that it’s those who don’t have the gift that are sceptical, possibly because they’ve come to the realisation that Astrology chooses you, you don’t choose it.”

Ant quietens at that, having taken Junipers point seriously.

“Since we are on the subject of those with the gift,” Harper pipes up, stepping forward, “We also have two astrologers who will be joining the team.”

You are surprised for a second time in five minutes as you watch Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil enter the room. Parvati meets your eyes and waves excitedly. You grin back at her and Padma gives her a thumbs up. As Lavender and Parvati introduce themselves, you lean into Padma.

“I didn’t know Parvati and Lavender were joining the team,” you whisper and Padma stifles a giggle.

“It was a secret,” Padma murmurs back, “Sorry I didn’t indulge you.”

“You’re forgiven.”

“Thank you Lavender, Parvati,” Harper nods to both of them and they flinch as though she had narrowed a wand at them, “Now, our final member of the team will be joining the Photography department, so please welcome –”

Your eyes travel from Harper to the figure standing in the doorway, and with a slight shock, you realise exactly who the newest member of the team is...

“– Noah Underwood.”

Anger you didn’t realise you had flares inside of you, prior feelings of pity vanishing completely. How could someone possibly encroach on your privacy and then throw you into a week of emotional turmoil by sending a strange letter to you? The past week of conflicting emotions is a direct result of him and his stupid camera. Your fingers curl into fists beneath the table.

“Noah Underwood?” Padma hisses, eying him shrewdly, “The loner from Slytherin? What is Harper thinking?”

“Apparently, he’s a good photographer,” you snip, thinking back to the picture sitting in your pocket, and you can’t even hide the frustration from your voice as you study him closely.

The first thing you notice about him is how confusingly, annoyingly attractive he is, despite being freakishly tall and gangly, which is perhaps the reason why he slouches. He’s still wearing that black beanie that he hasn’t taken off his head since he first came to Hogwarts, and peaking out from beneath it are thick curls of raven-black hair. He’s also not wearing his Slytherin robes, which you find odd, but Noah is odd anyway so you figure it fits. Over the top of a black v-neck, Noah is wearing a leather aviator jacket that is a size too big for him, and black jeans.

“Can’t argue with that logic,” Dean whispers, “I’m glad Colin won’t be the only photographer on the team. It’s bad enough having to share a common room with him.”

Padma giggles into her elbow, and Harper’s eyes snap straight to her, drilling her with a glare. Padma coils submissively.

“Introduce yourself, Noah,” Harper orders, and Noah shrugs.

“I’m Noah,” he says, apathetically, his hands jammed into his pockets, “And I like photography more than I like people.”

There is a beat of silence, everyone slightly stunned by Noah’s blunt remark. Harper thoughtfully fiddles with the gold locket hanging from her neck.

“Good,” Harper nods, approvingly, “We’re not here to be friends, we’re here to work so you should fit right in.”

“Except fitting in isn’t really his ‘thing’,” Padma murmurs, and Dean snorts beside you.

“Alright, everyone take a seat,” Harper barks, and everyone rushes to their seats, “Our meeting will now begin.”

***

Noah is out of the door before you even get a chance to talk to him.

You feel rude as you give hurried apologies to your friends and shoulder past them, rushing for the door. To your surprise, he’s riding a skateboard down the corridor. It looks..strange, like it shouldn’t belong here (It doesn’t, but thats not the point.) 

“Noah,” you call, and he skids to a stop, stepping off his skateboard and turning to face you as you approach him in long strides, “I’m (Y/N) And–”

“-I know who you are,” Noah interrupts, studying you intently.

“Right. Anyway, I need your help with something.”

Noah cocks an eyebrow in mild interest as you reach into your pockets and retrieve the photo, thrusting it into his grasp with slightly trembling hands.

“You took this photo, and I want to know why.”

Noah studies it, his face a mask of apathy, completely unreadable despite your best efforts. As his eyes move across the picture, you can’t help but notice how unnervingly dark they are. In fact, his eyes are so dark, you can’t tell where his irises end and his pupils begin. They’re the kind of dark that makes you wonder how many souls he’s absorbed, and the way they glint in the light suggests he’s probably lost count.

Finally, he sniffs and hands it back to you.

“I don’t know what this is,” Noah finally snips, his voice a lot deeper than you remember, “It’s not one of mine. I wasn’t at the Quidditch World Cup.”

“I don’t believe you,” you say, sternly, folding your arms across your chest.

“I don’t care if you believe me. I wasn’t there.”

You glare at him, fists clenching the inside of your robes. He is a blank slate, not even an inch of emotion flicking across his face despite the fact that you’re accusing him of something he may or may not have done. You try to even your emotions, trying to keeping your face a calm and composed canvas.

“If you weren’t there, then why was this photo identified as one of yours?” You ask, jutting your chin at the photo in his hands.

“Who identified it?” Noah queries, and you press your lips together tightly.

“A source.”

Noah scoffs, indignantly, “Well, whoever they are, they’re wrong,” Noah sighs, handing you the photo, “My muggle camera went missing and, like I already told you, I wasn’t at the Quidditch World Cup.”

“Well, where were you?”

“Is this an interrogation?”

“Does it matter?”

Noah gives a derisive snort, “Yes. It does. To me, the person you’re accusing of stalking. So if you don’t have any hard evidence, I’m going to go back to my common room.”

“Why? So you can retreat into your room and sulk?” You snap, hands resting on your hips.

There is a moment where it looks as though Noah is going to smile. Instead, he shakes his head.

“Yeah. That’s right. Because that’s what I do when people stereotype me as the weird, lonely photographer who obsesses over pretty girls...”

You exhale a shaky sigh as you realise that he’s right. It was wrong for you to allow your pent-up emotions to overwhelm you. You roll your shoulders, relaxing into your robes.

“Okay, fine. I’m sorry, that was wrong,” you murmur, glancing at your feet, “You said that your camera went missing. When did you first notice it was gone?”

“At the end of last year,” Noah answers, folding his arms over his chest, “Someone must have pinched it on the train back to Platform 9 3/4. I've printed out fliers and I’m on my way to Professor Snape right now to inform  him.”

You nod carefully, taking mental notes. It’s hard to tell if he’s lying, having such a perfectly trained expression.

“Okay. Thanks, I guess,” you murmur, folding the photo and slipping it into your pocket. Noah shrugs, dropping his skateboard, and you turn, starting back toward the Newsroom.

“Oh, and (Y/N),” Noah calls and you pause, “You wanted to know where I was on the day of the World Cup?” 

You spin around and face him, mildly interested as you nod. Moonlight pours through the glass-stained windows and soak him in a ghostly silhouette, like a dark angel standing in the corridor.  

“I was in London, visiting my sisters grave,” He murmurs, coldly, regret bleeding into his words like scarlet-red blood. 

He quickly turns away and rides off before you can say another word, leaving you speechless, guilt climbing into your gut and curling up there like a beast. 

***

“So, how was the meeting?”

Hermione sits crossed-legged on her bed, running her fingers through Crookshanks fur.

“Don’t tell anyone yet but we have a new Astrology section making its debut next week,” You say, as Nightshade curls up at your side. You smirk at Hermione’s exasperated scowl.

“I thought Harper Shacklebolt was more dignified and logical than that,” Hermione snips, agitated by the new discovery, “It doesn’t matter, I still admire her. Anything else?”

“Well, we also have new members,” you start, reaching into your bedside table and grabbing a small handful of cat treats for Nightshade, “One of them is Noah Underwood.”

Hermione gasps, “Really? Merlin. Did you-“

“-Already one step ahead of you,” you giggle as Nightshade begins to nibble her treats from your cupped palm. Her tongue is slightly serrated, and it tickles as she scrapes it along your soft skin, “Noah wasn’t even at the World Cup, he was visiting his sisters grave on the day which made me feel bloody terrible for drilling him as though he were a criminal. But he’s still a suspect.”

Hermione stands and pins his name to your pinboard, her brows knitted together in contemplation as she studies the board.

“So he has an alibi,” she sighs, as Crookshanks curls himself around her leg, “Did he say anything else?”

“Well, he told me that his muggle camera went missing on the way home from Hogwarts,” you recall, standing and meeting Hermione in front of the board. You scribble ‘Missing Camera’ onto a piece of paper and pin it beneath his name, “So either someone stole it or he’s lying.”

“Well, do you think he’s lying about his alibi?” Hermione asks, glancing at you thoughtfully.

You cock your head as you study each letter of his name, mulling Hermione’s words over, before murmuring, “I don’t trust him, but I don’t think he’s lying.”

Hermione nods, satisfied with your response. You both stare at the pin board for a moment longer, lost in your thoughts. The sound of girlish giggling sounds from behind your closed door, sweeping up the dormitory staircase like a sickly-sweet breeze, and you approach the board.

“A mouse does not trust a hungry snake,” you murmur in Latin,  pressing your wand to the board and watching as the pinboard vanished into the wall. Hermione glances at you, impressed.

“Nice charm work,” she smiles.

“Thanks,” you chirp, “Messrs Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs gave me the idea.”

Hermione opens her mouth to comment further, but Lavender and Parvati burst in before she can.

“(Y/N),” Lavender manages through giggles, “You have a visitor.”

Parvati giggles and whispers something to Lavender, which provokes girlish laughter to bubble from Lavenders lips.

“Okay,” you sigh, and Hermione gives you a pleading look. You smile at her apologetically, “Thanks, Lavender.”

Your curiosity piqued, you give Nightshade a final pat and leave your room, descending the staircase and entering the common room. Neville and Ginny smile at you from their game of Wizard Chess as you pass, and you flash them a smile.

“Where are you off too so late at night?” Ginny asks, a single brow raised teasingly.

“Someone is waiting for me outside,” you reply, grinning at her expression as the portrait door swings open, “It’s probably just some weirdo-“

You stop mid-sentence, a burning blush creeping up your neck.  

“Hi, (Y/N).”

Cedric Diggory’s perfect smile beams at you, eyes shimmering, hands lazily wedged into his pockets.

“Oh, Cedric, H-hi,” You splutter, stupidly, feeling like a bitch for the second time tonight, “I didn’t mean what I - I mean - I don’t think you’re a-”

“- A weirdo?” Cedric mimics, his smile stretching into a grin, “I know. I probably am a weirdo for visiting so late in the evening but...I wanted to see you.”

“Me too,” you smile, your heart clumsy and foolish and swelling in your chest, “I mean, I wanted to see you as well...”

Cedric laughs, and the sound plucks every single heart string in your chest as though it were an instrument designed just for him.

“I’m glad,” he reaches over and tentatively takes your hand, “I want to show you something.”

You bite your lip, chewing your nerves away, fingers intertwining with his and soaking in the warmth of his skin.

“Well, go on girl,” the Fat Lady snaps from behind you, “Before I figure out a way to leave this painting and take off with such a charming, young man.”

A gentle, romantic shade of pink kisses Cedric’s cheek, “I appreciate the compliment, Ma’am, but I could never betray the trust of the beautiful girl I’ve come to like...” he gazes pointedly at you. You twirl a ribbon of hair around your finger, hoping your cheeks are not as red as they feel.

“Such a gentleman,” you hear the Fat Lady swoon from behind you as Cedric leads you into the night.

***

The Prefects Bathroom looks as though it’s been stolen from a romance novel and pinned in front of your eyes.

Floating candles hover in the air, scenting the bathroom with a subtle fragrance that changes the more you breathe in. It’s like Cedric’s bottled a cauldron of Amortentia and poured it into each, individual candle.

Rose petals have been sprinkled artistically across the floor, creating a trail that leads to a chocolate fondue machine and a large bowl of fruit and marshmallows. There is a bottle of what you can only assume is sparkling cherry-apple juice, a sweet delicacy enjoyed only by the richest of wizards and witches, and a personal favourite of yours (how did he know? Could he get any more perfect, the bastard).

Your eyes are drawn to the most touching feature in the room; An elegant bouquet of fire lilies. It’s a memento from your and Cedric’s past, a personal touch that has your heart swelling, overflowing the confines of your ribcage like a bubbling love potion inside the cauldron in your chest.

You bite your lip and inhale the sweet scents, releasing a sigh of satisfaction as you store the moment deep inside your lungs like a Polaroid picture.

“Wow” You finally sigh, reduced to moonstruck awe and admiration of Cedric’s dedication, “You really went all out didn’t you?”

Cedric regards you warmly, “I guess I’m just a hopeless romantic. Besides, I wanted to give you the best, that’s what you deserve.”

Cedric tugs his bottom lip between his teeth like he’s blurted too much, and your cheeks ache as your smile widens on its own accord.

“So...” you trail off, stepping closer to him and teasing him with a smirk, “Did you fancy a late night skinny dip?”

Cedric snorts a laugh, watching you with glittering eyes, “Not exactly.”

You grin wickedly at him, maintaining eye contact as you carefully peel back your robes, “Well I do.”

A rosy blush blossoms on Cedric’s cheeks, “Oh, I-I guess this is happening, then.”

You laugh as you whirl around, your back to his chest, “Do you mind unzipping my skirt?”

“Not at all,” he murmurs, voice warm and low in your ear, and a shiver drips languidly from each vertebra in your spine like long, amber strands of honey. He fiddles clumsily with the zip before finally triumphing and tugging on it gently. Once the zip is undone, he steps away and turns around, giving you privacy as you strip down to your underwear and climb into the large, golden bath.

You sigh and close your eyes as the warm water soaks into your skin, rejuvenating your muscles. The water shifts and ripples around you and you open your eyes, finding Cedric by your side. He’s close, though you can still make out the defined muscles of his torso, occasionally flexing in the water. He’s an amalgam of masculine strength and gentle softness, strong but unassuming, certain but meek and oddly vulnerable. It’s disarming, and it makes you feel like he’s giving you control, reassuring you that he’s willing to stay within any boundaries you have carefully constructed.

In short, he’s the handsome gentleman every teenage girl dreams of having.

“I hope this is okay,” Cedric murmurs, shyly.

“Okay?” You echo, smiling broadly, “This is perfect, Cedric. It’s exactly what I needed.”

Cedric smiles and pours you a glass of cherry-apple juice. For what feels like hours, the two of you sit and enjoy each other’s company, laughing and joking and indulging in the fondue treats. The outside world seems to melt away like you and Cedric have created a pocket of your own universe where everything is whimsically romantic and surreal and seeped in sepia and nothing like the corrupt reality outside of this bubble that is threatening to devour it.

For the first time in a week, you finally feel calm, like Cedric is a home not build from bricks or marble but a home built by teenage dreams.

“Thank you, again,” you sigh, savouring the taste of chocolate on your tongue, and Cedric flashes a warm, genuine smile.

“It was nothing. Seriously, all of this is nothing compared to–” Cedric stops, bites his lip and smooths it over with the tip of his tongue.

“Compared to?” You watch him as he sighs, conceding.

“Compared to how you make me feel.”

You blink at him, wondering with a feeling of dread whether this is all a dream, and you pinch yourself just in case. When you realise it’s not, you smile, the weight and length of it nearly splitting your face in half, your heart feeling like an overgrown pumpkin from Hagrid's patch, because this is real, and nothing really matters anymore, none of it, because he’s moving closer and so are you and he’s bending down and you’re reaching up, and he’s raising a hand to your cheek and you’re parting your lips, waiting, yearning for that earth-shattering moment when your lips will finally meet, and Merlin this is not a dream, not anymore–

A peel of gleeful laughter fills the air.

You and Cedric wrench apart, startled by the intruder, who floats over to you grinning for the first time in what you suspect has been many years.

“So the pretty girl has found someone who’s willing to kiss her,” Moaning Myrtle sneers. She narrows a glare on you when she recognises Cedric, “And it’s the handsome one, too.”

“Could we have some privacy, please Myrtle?” You snap, acutely aware of the flimsy pieces of underwear you’re currently wearing.

Myrtle’s bottom lip quivers, “I get awfully lonely here by myself, yet you have all the boys drooling over you like you’ve cast a spell on them. It’s simply not fair.”

“I’m-I’m sure you’ll find someone, Myrtle,” Cedric offers, expression kind and hopeful.

Myrtle heaves a sigh, “Someday, maybe,” her gloomy, transparent face suddenly lights up with glee, “But I’ll relish in telling the Boy who Lived that the girl he’d die for has found someone else to go on adventures with.”

You steel your spine and look her directly in the eye, speaking firmly, “Myrtle, please. I think it’s time you left.”

Myrtle sighs, defeated, her eyes welling up with tears, “Fine! I will! But, just so you know, I’ll be his shoulder to cry on...metaphorically speaking.”

And with that, Myrtle disappears into the pipes, her wails echoing through the bathroom.

***

Cedric drops you off with a goodbye kiss on the cheek that makes you feel like a burning sunset; warm and beautiful and seeped in daydreams.

You manage to float up the stairs to the girls' dormitory without tripping, creep into your bedroom, and change into your pyjamas without waking anyone, a skill you’ve practised since knowing Harry Potter.

The girls are already fast asleep, curtains drawn on the four-poster beds and curled beneath the sheets. Hermione is even muttering in her sleep.

Climbing into bed, you pull the sheets right up to your nose and grin goofily, thankful that no one can see you. Your churning anxiety doesn’t seem so overwhelming in this moment, Cedric washing away your fears like a river of holy water. And, though you’re life may be shrouded in mystery, at least Cedric can be your guiding light, the single truth you can cling to.

You fall asleep smiling, oblivious to what the next few weeks have in store.

tagging: @marauderskeeper @weaselby418  @acciorinn  @hervench @harrvjpotter @depressed-octopods-art @romanofftasha @moonpeachs @emi-loser @steph-fowlie @lilulo-12 @randomfangirl17 @asofslytherin @seunlight if i have forgotten to tag you, please tell me! sorry if i have. i love you. also if you want to be tagged, pls send me an ask :)) thanks for reading babes

[amyddaniels]

Coronavirus, the Butterfly Effect, and the Myth of Your Insignificance

Contributing editor Jennifer Davis-Flynn reflects on the reverberating and unpredictable effects of acts of harm and love during a global pandemic. Plus, self-care practices to fuel your compassion.

It’s easy to feel helpless and insignificant during the best of times. These are not those times.

2020 is unrecognizable from 2019. We are afraid of strangers and crowds for new, potentially deadly reasons. We are untethered from our comforting routines. We are frightened by the very real loss of our livelihood, our health, and our loved ones.

Every day, we wonder, when will the pandemic end? Every day, we struggle to make plans and envision a future. We are wayfinding with the only resources we have: intuition and discernment. There is no other way to move forward, when it feels like no one is coming to save us.

The Butterfly Effect is a founding principle of Chaos Theory

And yet...

A surprise wildflower on my deck

In May, I planted four sheets of seed paper that I got from a local restaurant, in a flower box on my deck. I watched with delight as four green sprouts emerged. One of those sprouts transformed into a magnificent ombre wildflower. I’ve watched this little seed bloom into its full expression of being and provide nourishment for life in my little neighborhood. One giant monarch butterfly visits regularly. Hummingbirds and bees drop by to feast on its nectar. This small, unremarkable act of planting a seed has significantly impacted the living creatures that surround me.

The Butterfly Effect

My butterfly visitor got me thinking about the Butterfly Effect, a theory associated with Edward Lorenz, an American mathematician and meteorologist who studied numerical weather prediction in the 1950s. Essentially, in his Chaos Theory, he proposes that something exceedingly small can have non-linear effects on a complex system. For example, the beating of a butterfly’s wings in Brazil can cause a hurricane in the Caribbean.

However, the Butterfly Effect does not mean there is a direct cause and effect... because then butterflies would be gods. Instead, the theory, as a non-scientist like me understands it, is that small changes in big, sensitive systems can have complex results. These tiny changes are seemingly unpredictable, but Chaos Theory proposes that they actually aren’t. In fact, when you graph out chaos (do not ask me how the hell you do that), it looks like two butterfly wings. And that’s where the name “The Butterfly Effect” actually comes from.

When you graph chaos, it looks like a butterfly

All of this is to say that:

You are not insignificant. Your existence has tremendous meaning and influence.

There can be order in chaos, but you often can’t see the big picture from where you’re standing. 

Small Acts Save Lives

Your smallest acts of compassion, like reaching out to a strange to see if they are ok, can have implications you can’t even begin to understand. The CDC  reported recently that 40 percent of U.S. adults are struggling with mental health and substance abuse due to the pandemic, and 11 percent of those have seriously considered suicide. That’s over 36 million people, more than double the rate in 2018. We are hurting as a nation.

Mental health activist Kevin Hines (who threw himself off the Golden Gate Bridge in 2000 but survived) has spoken extensively about how even reaching out to ask a stranger if they are okay can save their life. He describes the day he decided to jump: he took the bus to the bridge, in tears, and then stood on the edge of the railing visibly distraught waiting for someone to ask him if he needed help. Nobody ever did. And he jumped.

Today, It’s difficult to smile through a mask or to hold someone’s hand when they’re scared. But, we can still show up with compassion for this frightened, grieving world.

Wearing a mask is another small act of compassion with potentially big consequences. Humanity is one interdependent system, so in our globalized world, it’s easy to grasp how not wearing one could set off a chain of events causing someone to get COVID-19 in Australia, let alone in your community. 

Self-Care is a Springboard to Compassion

We can’t care for others until we care for ourselves. So, it’s important to be gentle and kind to yourself during these unprecedented times. I’ve had to switch up quite a few habits and routines in order to cope with overwhelming grief and uncertainty. Here’s what I’ve been doing for self-care:

Sleep

In order to get eight hours of sleep a night, I do a few things (almost) every day: meditate, spend time outside, drink a lot of water, get aerobic exercise at least three times a week, and supplement. I take 500mg of magnesium every night before bed and a dropper of my favorite CBD oil. Right now, my favorite is Easy Now from Radio. It works like a charm every night and tastes great.

See also 8 Poses to Sleep Better Tonight 

Avoid Alcohol

I quit drinking in March. I found that even a glass or two of wine the night before would impact my mood the next day, bringing me way down. My body and mind just can’t handle an extra depressant right now. Listen to your body and find out what it needs to feel good. You are your own parent and greatest advocate.

Morning Ritual

Most mornings (I’m not perfect after all), I do these four things: meditate, repeat affirmations, journal, and walk the dog. The components of this “daily retreat” came from my coach, Tara-Nicholle Nelson. I am grateful for the stability of this ritual, especially since I’ve become unmoored from my Kundalini Yoga practice, as our community tries to heal from trauma and pain caused by Yogi Bhajan.

So, establish a little retreat in the corner of your bedroom or living room, and just sit there every day. Sometimes, I just breathe in two words: “I” on the inhale, and “am” on the exhale, so that I can ground myself in the current moment, where I am safe.

Don't know where to start? Try Nicole Cardoza's Guided Meditation for Anxiety below.

Nicole Cardoza’s Guided Meditation For Anxiety (; 7:07)

Affirmations can be very personal, but if you don’t know where to start, I recommend this one from Louise Hay: I love and approve of myself. Say it out loud like a prayer.

Next, I journal. I simply free-write for 10 minutes or I pick a prompt from one of many self-development books I’m reading. This is the time to write out any worries or fears. Get the drama out of your head and onto the page.

See also Looking for Journaling Inspiration? These 11 Prompts Can Transform Your Writing Practice

Finally, I take a walk with my dog. Getting outside in nature is so important to your wellbeing. I listen to uplifting music or a podcast, and take in the trees and the flowers around me. The sun still shines. I am grateful for that. I "smize" (smiling with your eyes as supermodel Tyra Banks describes it) at strangers, dogs, and bunnies.

There are a lot of homeless people in my community, so I make eye contact and acknowledge them when I can. My dog, Maple, acts as a compassionate delegate, delivering daily sweetness to others in need. 

See also The Intention-Activating Power of a Daily Ritual

Remember: Contraction Leads to Expansion

It’s so hard right now. Our brains are not designed to process this level of uncertainty and danger without triggering our sympathetic nervous system (fight, flight, or freeze mode). But, remember, this too shall pass. My coach Tara often talks about the contraction that comes before expansion, much like the diaphragm contracts and expands with our breath. It contracts on the inhalation and expands and finds space on the exhalation. Life might seem small, restrictive, and repressive right now, but 2020 is a time of accelerated, global change. In order for this complex system of humanity to survive, we have to adapt, and we have to take care of each other. Plant seeds of love and compassion now. And let’s watch them bloom together.

[urameshiy-blog]

This episode is alternatively titled: How to Score an Unpaid Internship that Might Cost You Your Life.

Episode 5: Yusuke’s Back

Wow that episode title leaves a lot to imagination. So, basically, if I was watching this for the first time ever, I would know what was happening. YYH does this a lot, and I’m always just sitting here, like, thanks. I have no idea what’s going to happen.

Episode 5 wraps up our Ghost!Yusuke arc. Today’s the day that Yusuke comes back to life for REAL. First, though, someone has to donate their spirit energy, so that Yusuke’s spirit/physical energy realigns… or something along those lines (honestly, I always tune out fake logistics like this).But it has to be tonight at midnight, or else Yusuke will have to wait 52 more years to come back. Oh, and it has to be done through a kiss which Yusuke freaks out over. Jeez, this boy is just not a huge fan of physical/romantic/platonic contact…

In order to get someone to kiss him, he has to visit three people’s dreams. Like the first time he visited their dreams, this does not go well. Atsuko per usual is drinking:

And then there’s Kuwabara. And… well…

And so launched 1000 ships. 

In any case, Keiko is his only hope. After a bit of drama, where it looks like Keiko’s not going to make it back to Yusuke’s house because her mother collapsed, she finds her way back. And, as they say, the rest is history.

So, Yusuke makes a cheery recovery from the dead. And, apparently with this recovery comes even worse fashion choices.

#iconic

Things get weird though, as Yusuke stumbles upon a fortune teller. And, oh boy, WHO COULD IT BE?

Nope, not a clue. It’s a mystery.

The fortune teller says that he has “interesting energy” and a “mission” to complete. In true Yusuke fashion, though, he ignores it, and heads to a cafe for some coffee. A boy after my own heart.

But Yusuke has a knack for finding trouble. The cafe, apparently, has been taken over by another gang, even though it used to be part of Kuwabara’s turf. Yusuke decides to go in anyway, where the new gang leader and his crew are sitting. He ignores them, and grabs his coffee anyway. But something is off: the gang leader has horns. Which, oddly, Yusuke decides not to care about. I guess coming back from the dead makes everything else ordinary.

Through the gang’s conversation, we learn that the leader, Sakamoto, has kidnapped Kuwabara’s cat, and is forcing him to steal comics. When Kuwabara appears though, it’s quickly revealed he didn’t steal the comics at all–as Yusuke mentioned, that’s against his honor code.

Sakamoto is not happy with this. He demands that Kuwabara apologizes to him, and then decides they’re going to take this outside (even evil thugs are willing to protect the sanctity of the coffee shop).  Outside, the gang threatens Kuwabara’s friends and cat. Just when we think all is lost– Yusuke steps in and surprises them.

With his hair gelled again, no less. Was he in the coffee shop styling his hair before he came to the rescue?

One quick fight sequence later, the boys beat up the gang, get Kuwabara’s cat back, and it’s revealed that there’s actually a parasitic demon possessing Sakamoto! When Yusuke knocks him unconscious, the demon appears and Yusuke captures him easily.

The fortuneteller comes back as well, and it’s revealed that she is oh so surprisingly actually Botan! Botan thanks Yusuke for all his help, and tells him that his first case is a success. Oh, and by the way, he’s now officially the Spirit Detective. And no, he cannot turn down the position. And no, it’s not paid. Yay!?

The second part of this episode is much more fun that the first. The actual revival scene is rather a bore, since we all know that he’s coming back. Especially after rewatch number twenty, I’m no longer that interested in the scene. Atsuko, again, does not fail to make me sad with her drinking streak, even though it’s played completely for laughs. Luckily, they keep the revival tension very short, and quickly move on to the more interesting part.

The second half of the episode contains much more of what we come to love in YYH. In a lot of ways, I think this episode marks the true beginning of YYH as we will know it in the future: aka demons, one-liners, fighting, and Yusuke and Kuwabara pretending they’re not friends. It’s action packed, urgent, and most importantly, punchy with its humor.

Our Glasses honcho is a great starter villain and really raises the stakes by threatening not only Kuwabara’s kitten, but his friends. Again, this reinforces our main FriendshipTM theme, and foreshadows a lot of the future battles. It’s also interesting to contrast our first demon with the later demons we get. This one is tiny and parasitic in nature, possessing humans for its own personal chaos. As the series goes on, demons go from these odd alien creatures to more exact human copies, which we’ll discuss more in the next few episodes.

We get some weird inconsistencies with later mythology from the set-up of Yusuke’s powers as Koenma says, “You’ll get cool powers, I’ve come up with them myself.” It brings into question where exactly Spirit Energy comes from. Are humans born with a certain amount of Spirit Energy, or are they gifted with it? For now, I’m just filing that aside as weird beginning series talk, similar to Hiei’s demonic form and telepathy that we don’t ever get to see again.

Animation wise, I’m pretty happy with the one fight scene we get. It’s not extravagant, but I always enjoy Yusuke’s dramatic entrance.

My Dark!Koenma theory lives on though! “Let’s see how our little Yusuke fares when he’s not floating in the sky,” he says. OKAY, KOENMA. CAN YOU TALK MORE LIKE AN EVIL VILLAIN? Not to mention, he made Yusuke’s Spirit Detective position mandatory, despite the fact that he never mentioned it as part of the deal when he brought Yusuke back to life. No wonder Yusuke spends the rest of the series trying to ignore Koenma’s orders. He’s just an unpaid intern being forced to do entry-level work. I feel your pain Yusuke, I do.

Final thoughts:

Favorite line of the episode goes to Yusuke: “I can talk trash to people and even touch them. To be alive is a wonderful thing!”

And we can’t forget: “Hey! That guy has horns. Well, not going to ruin my day.” Oh Yusuke. You idiot.

Kuwabara’s love of kittens raises my respect from him 1000%

Yusuke’s outfit here will always remain forever in my heart

I’m weirdly fascinated by the high school gang wars. Kinda wish there had been a larger side arc with that.

Pay Yusuke Urameshi For Saving the World 2018! Even Naruto got paid for his missions!

TL;DR: Though the beginning of this episode lacks rewatch value, the second half makes up for it with its on point humor and characterization. It’s the perfect closure to our first arc.