#daisy's addiction makes up for better half of her life

[enmites]

also fair warning this blog will be heavy on topics like addiction so if that triggers you i apologize but you should sb me 😭

[justanothertmafanblog]

https://archiveofourown.org/works/45883225#main

here's a daisira fic i wrote! just over 1000 words, easy read. the fic is under the cut as well as linked above.

The two of them lay in bed, Basira's hair like a half-halo around her head, Daisy cuddled up as close as they could get without crawling inside her.

'Basira?'

'Hm?'

'You awake?'

'Yeah, what's up?'

'Can't sleep. Tell me a story?'

'What about?'

'Anything.'

Basira thought for a moment before continuing.

'Once, there was a young girl. They weren't loud, but they weren't exactly quiet, either. She liked to climb radio towers, and go for walks, and spit in the face of people she didn't agree with. Everyone called them unruly, but they didn't understand. Why follow a rule if it doesn't make sense?'

Basira's sweet voice wrapped around them both like honey.

'This girl didn't act like she was supposed to. They got dirt on their face, and wrestled with their best friend, and didn't care much for books or dresses like the other girls. Her parents hated that, and she never fully forgave them for how they treated her, even after they died. Being called unruly and wild their entire childhood, they decided to turn things around and become a police officer, eventually moving up to the rank of detective.'

At this, Daisy tensed slightly.

'Not about me, Basira, please.'

'Just trust me, okay?'

'M'kay, I trust you.'

'This girl, she made mistakes. The chase was addictive. They knew this, but kept pushing, kept hunting. I'm doing good, she told herself, even though deep, deep down she knew that some of these people weren't deserving of what she did to them.

Then they met someone else, someone who was smitten with them from the first 'Hello'.'

Daisy laughed slightly, but didn't say anything.

'What? It's true!'

'Sure it is. Go on, I don't want you to stop.'

'This other person, she was also a police officer. She had had a bit of a rough life; she was an orphan, and had jumped from foster family to foster family with her sister, until her sister died in a drunk driving accident when she was 17 and this person was 26. She blamed herself for it, and never let go.

She understood why the girl did what they did. Those people were criminals, like the man who had hit and killed her sister. Even if they didn't deserve exactly what the girl served them, the girl was making the world a better place. Rose coloured glasses can be blinding, sometimes.

This person noticed the way the girl turned away when she took off her hijab in the change room. Eventually the girl told her it was because they were a lesbian, and didn't want this person to feel violated. That moment was when this person knew that it was more than a crush, that she really was in love with the girl.

They talked more and more outside of work, and this led to a date. They went to a coffee shop not far from the police station on a mutual day off. They talked for hours, until the coffee shop closed. The tube lines had also closed by then, as it was late, so they walked back to the girl's flat because it was closest.'

'Basira, you don't have to tell this part…'

'Stop interrupting my story,' she chided.

Daisy just grumbled.

'Anyways, they both went back to the girl's flat. It was dark, and the person was nervous, but the girl knew their way around. The person felt safe as long as they were with the girl, even if the girl was significantly below average height.'

'Oh shut up.'

'I told you to stop interrupting!'

'I'll interrupt as much as I like,' Daisy said, with no fight in their voice.

Basira continued. 'They reached the building, and took the lift up to the girl's flat. They held hands the whole way up, all the way to the door. After they'd stepped through the doorway and the girl turned from closing the door, the person kissed them. Deeply, passionately, desperately. She'd never loved someone like this before. This was a special sort of love.

They went to the bedroom, and did some things that will stay between them, that need not be voiced aloud. Though the person can attest that those things were certainly more than enjoyable.' 'Oh shut up.'

'What, you don't want me to continue the story?'

'I never said that.'

Basira was going to retort that actually you did, but thought better of it when Daisy turned around and pressed their face into her chest, wrapping their arms around her waist.

'The two had a very private love. It was never discussed, nor was it shown through more than a simple I've got your back, or another night like that first one, or the way they tended to each other's injuries after a chase.

It was them against the world, together. They fought, and killed, and hunted, and deep, deep down they knew it was wrong, but that didn't matter. They were making the world a better place, together. Some of the people they hunted did deserve it, but the majority…

It didn't matter to either of them. Over time, the definition of the word 'partner' to the girl morphed from meaning 'assigned to work with me' to 'friend' to 'lover', and it wasn't questioned, or dwelled upon, or thought about at length. they were partners, even after the person quit. They were partners, even after the girl quit as well. They were partners, and that was it. They had each other's backs, and it was as simple as that.

It wasn't until… It wasn't until the girl was locked somewhere dark, and dirty, and crushing, that the 'I have your back's were replaced with 'I love you's. That was when the girl knew for sure that the word partner meant lover. That was when they both stopped killing for good. The chase was over, and they could both finally rest. The hunt was not yet done, and it was hard to resist, but the girl was strong. The girl is strong. You're so, so strong, Daisy. I love you.'

An unintelligible reply came from the woman currently curled into Basira, but she knew what they meant to say.

She didn't bother asking if Daisy had liked the story, they were asleep, and that was enough.

It was like this, clinging to Daisy like the world depended on it, listening to her soft snores, that Basira fell asleep. For the first time in a long time, the pair slept without worry or nightmare to plague their mind. They had each other, they were partners. That was enough.

[randominagines]

Pairing: Nick Clark X reader

A version of the original story in which you are Nick's best friend and you live the apocalypse with him, sharing good and bad sides and realising that you are destined to be more than friends.

Warning: what if, sex reference, drug reference, parent's death, language, mostly angst, a bit fluff. I've changed some details from the original storyline, nothing too big btw.

P.s. if you find any mistake please correct me, English is not my mother tongue and I want to improve. Reblog, if you can, it helps a lot, thank you💕

P.p.s. gifs belong to the creators

Falling in love with Nick Clark would include:

You and him became friends when you were kids but he had a crush on you since forever, he never confessed it because he was just scared to ruin your friendship;

Plus, he thought you deserved so much more than him;

You were dating Calvin during high school and he was like super jealous but also worried because he knew Calvin was not a good boy;

When Calvin screwed everything up cheating on you Nick was half relieved, half sorry to see you heartbroken. He stood by your side, of course;

"Y/n, he's just an asshole, he doesn't know what he just lost";

"Thank you, Nick, I don't know what I would do without you";

He realized he was in love with you the last day of high school and also tried to summon up the courage to confess to you, but he was starting to become an addict and you were about to start college, so he gave up;

You tried to stop him from starting doing heroine and failed, but always stayed by his side. He never let you see him when he was in worst conditions but you always kept supporting and helping him by trying to convince him to go on rehabilitation. You drove him to therapy and helping group session. Even when he kept starting to drug himself again, you never pushed him away, even if the boy you were dating at the time couldn't understand why;

"Y/n, he's just an addict, why do you insist on being his friend?";

"I won't even bother trying to explain to you what Nick means to me. We're done, by the way.";

When Nick's father died he practically ran away from the funeral, but you knew where to find him: he didn't push you away, he let you stay by his side.

You felt your heart skip a beat when Alicia called you explaining about Nick's accident. You ran at the hospital to see him;

"Y/n! Finally someone willing to tell me how shitty I look right now.";

"Fuck you, Clark, you'll be the death of me one day."

You tried to to stay mad but you were mostly just relieved that he was okay;

He explained you what happened at the church and you immediately believed him;

"I knew you would have believed me, y/n;"

You even decide to go to the church to see what happened and found the blood stains on the floor. You were totally certain that Nick was not crazy and you also warned Madison about your recent discovery;

You comforted him when he called you telling you about the fact that he had killed Calvin, you were the only person he really wanted by his side in that moment. He had a mental breakdown in your arms and you just held him whispering to him that you were there for him;

He got angry when he knew you went to the church;

"Y/n, are you crazy? That is an awful place and could have been dangerous! I can't risk losing you.";

"I just wanted to prove to your mother and Travis that you were telling the truth.";

When the apocalypse started, your mother was bitten and killed herself to protect you. She only left you her necklace with a pendant shaped as a white daisy. The Clarks welcomed you in their family and Nick became the most importan person of your life;

"Mom is gone, I don't have a family anymore", you said while caressing your necklace;

"Y/n, never say this again, we are your family and you'll never be alone";

Madison and Alicia always consider you as a part of their family since you grew up with Nick so they did their best to make sure you could feel better;

You started to spend your days trying to move on and process the fact that your mom was gone. Nick was the most thoughtful person ever and you and him used to spend afternoons in the pool, his attraction and love toward you growing day by day, especiallybecauseyoure were spendingall the time together;

You comforted him when Madison found out that he was stealing morphine;

"Don't worry, Nick, everything will be okay.";

You stayed by his side during his abstinence crisis and tried your best to help him;

You were the most desperate when he was taken away, your mind being filled with thoughts of never seeing him anymore. That's when you realised that you were in love with your best friend;

Madison wanted to protect you by not getting you involved in Nick's rescue but you insisted;

"He's all I have, there's no way I'm waiting here. I'm coming with you."

You felt your heart melting when you finally found him, but the door was stuck and he tried to say goodbye to you, his eyes looking at you with love;

You immediately hugged him as soon as Liza opened the door, he held you back while you were whispering his name;

You found a moment of peace on the Abigail, not a day going by without you thinking about your mom but also the constant relief of having Nick by your side;

You always made sure he was okay, he was dealing with a drug rehabilitation without the proper medicines and therapies, after all. He appreciated your thoughtfulness more than everything and always reassured you that he was okay;

You and him used to spend whole nights looking at the stars and talking about many things, the usual harmony between the two of you connecting your minds and hearts;

"Nick, do you remember when we skipped math class every single wednesday because there was that offer in that restaurant where they served Mexican food? You were so obsessed!";

"I had almost forgot how much incline I was at spending my money on food, y/n.";

You two always ended up laughing a lot, when you were with him it was almost like the apocalypse never started;

"It's crazy how you have the power to make me forget that the world is actually falling apart, Nick.";

Nick was the best thing of your life, but you also developed a beautiful friendship with Chris, not to mention how much you and Alicia cared about each other;

He was absolutely happy to have you around on the Abigail but hiding his feelings was becoming more complicated. He was also kinda jealous of the complicity between you and Chris;

Alicia was the first person you confessed your feelings for Nick to. She's super clever so she had already noticed and she also knew that her brother loved you;

"I knew it, the way you look at him has changed. Just tell him, y/n.";

You were torn for days and also started to overthinking so much that you became paranoid, you also started to believe that Nick liked Ofelia;

You decided to land with them and were the first to notice Nick entirely covered in blood and moving among the zombies as he was one of them. Your stomach was knotted untill you looked at him in his eyes and realized he was okay;

He kept an eye on you during the whole battle against the zombies and you made sure to protect him as well. You always used to watch each other's backs in that situations;

"Oh my God, Nick. I thought you had turned, my heart literally stopped working!";

You shouted as soon as the battle was over while hugging him, not even the unpleasant scent of blood all over him stopping you from resting your head on his shoulder. He held you back.

He checked on your neck and wrists to make sure you were not hurt or bitten, he was frightened of the idea of losing you;

Once you were back on the Abigail you decided you were tired of him being so reckless and always putting his life at risk, you ignored him for the rest of the day;

He came knocking at your door for explanation and you finally snapped;

"I'm angry at you because you keep doing stupid, dangerous things and I can't fucking lose you. I know how egoistic this sounds, but I love you, Nicholas Clark, and I don't want to lose you.";

He was shocked at the beginning but immediately kissed you, he had been waiting for that moment since forever;

Your first time was absolutely incredible: you were so in harmony, not a trace of embarrassment, totally connected to each other. You were having sex with your best friend since the kindergarten and it was absolutely beautiful;

"It took an apocalypse to make me realize that I love you.";

"Well, I realized that I love you years ago but waiting was worth it. You are worth it, y/n, and I love you."

Nick was a very thoughtful boyfriend. He always made sure you were comfortable, you felt loved and appreciated;

He complimented you a lot and always searched for physical contact;

You both decided to keep your relationship secret to avoid embarrassment on the Abigail. After all, Madison was totally sure you were like brother and sister;

He used to sneak out in your room every night, to make love to you and fall asleep in your arms;

"Baby, for as much as I love hearing you moaning my name, just lower your voice or we will wake up everyone on this boat.";

He is a creative lover. He loves experimenting new things and always makes sure to remind you how much he likes you;

"I've never seen a body more beautiful and hot than yours, you drive me totally crazy, y/n.";

He's a tease and mostly a dom but seeing you take control turns him on like nothing else;

He loved watching you sleeping, he found you so peaceful. He spent hours caressing your hair and thinking about the fact that he finally had you, after years pretending that this was not the only thing he ever wanted;

He tended to get insicure sometimes;

"You're the best person I know, y/n. You're brilliant, smart, funny, absolutely beautiful, your heart is enormous and I'm quite convinced that no one can understand people like you do. You love deeply and you have a pure soul. And what about me? How can I be good enough for you? I'm an addict and I'm a mess, that's all.";

"Nick, you're so much more than how you think. I've seen you falling many times, crumbling down as if you were made of glass. This world was has been incredibly harsh to you, yet you always managed to find a way to fight back. You're smart, no one is as good as you are at problem solving. You're kind, you care about everyone, and you're my love, the only person I want by my side. You're more than good enough for me, you've always been.";

He was fragile with you, but also incredibly strong when you were feeling vulnerable. You completed each other;

You knew each other deeply since you had been friends for a lifetime. You were in perfect harmony and sometimes you felt like there was not a chance for you to immagine a life without him;

You were almost convinced that everything was going for the better untill you arrived at Thomas Abigail Ranch; your boyfriend started to act weird again and you found out that he was sharing Celia's crazy ideas. You tried to talk some sense into him with kindness, you knew him so deeply that you were more than well aware of the best way to talk to him;

"Nick, baby, I know you hate the idea of killing, but those... those thigs, are not alive. You are and I am, you can hear my heart beating and I can hear yours. Don't risk your life for silly ideas. I love you, I want you to be safe.";

The last thing he wanted was to hurt you so he started being more careful, but he just couldn't stop thinking that maybe Celia was all right;

His heart was broken when he decided to leave you and his family but he needed time and he knew that you would have been safer with Madison;

"I'm not going without you, Nick.";

"I'll find you, I will always find you. I love you, y/n, but I have to go.";

You spent the worst period of your life separated from Nick. The constant fear of never seeing him again or of finding out that he had been killed or worse, turned, hunted you for weeks.

Things kept getting worse: you, Madison and Alicia found yourselves alone;

When Travis fell from the helicopter he tried to hold on to something and he ripped off your necklace, you lost it too;

Nick heard voices about the fact that a body was found and the people bringing the news had found your necklace: he immediately recognised it and believed you were dead. He fell in a state of deep sadness, so dark that he simply stopped trying to go on. He started dragging himself from a day to another without a real aim, his only thought being you and the heavy regret of letting you;

He spent days crying, his bed being the only place he saw and your necklace squeezed in his hand;

He found a bit of peace in Luciana, his heart still too broke to love another person but his mind convincing himself that he had to go on;

When you finally found him, you were the happiest person alive. You didn't even doubted a moment: you ran in his arms, your face hiding in the crook of his neck and your arms squeezing him. He was shocked, he couldn't understand, but he softly held you back smelling your scent, as he was afraid to see you crumbling and slipping away from his fingers as sand;

"Y/n.. am I dreaming or are you really here?";

Tears were running down your face when you finally looked at him and kissed him;

"I'm here, Nick.";

But happiness couldn't last. As soon as you arrived at the ranch the brutal truth came out: Nick had a girlfriend. Your heart was broken, how could he have forgotten so soon. You refused to hear explanation.

"I feel so stupid, because I love and I've been tormenting myself since the moment your turned your back and walked away that day. I was not angry at you for leaving us, I know you since forever and I know you sometimes need your space, but making me believe that you loved me... Is forgetting about everything we had and simply starting dating someone else love? If it's so easy for you not only leaving me in a world which gives no guarantee to see someone again but also finding someone else to be with then I'm not sure you have ever loved me, Nick."

Your words were like a knife in his heart: precise, firm, clean. He couldn't even say anything. He loved you and the only reason why he tried to move on was because he thought you were dead, but he started to believe that maybe he had never been enough to be by your side. He let you go, your eyes filled with tears and your necklace almost pulsing in his pocket.

PART 2 HERE

[marshmallow-phd]

Catching Rain

Part of The Untamed - EXO Wolf Universe

Genre: Wolf!AU

Pairing: Minseok x Reader

Summary: You were more than satisfied with your life. You attended a nice college, had nice friends, a nice boyfriend. That’s what your life was: nice. You weren’t looking for anything more, so what were you to do when this seemingly harmless boy walked into your life and turned your nice little world into one much more dangerous?

Part: 1 I 2 I 3 I 4 I 5 I 6 I 7 I 8 I 9 I 10 I Epilogue

**

The theatre was loud, opposite of its normally hushed nature. People were yelling back and forth, saws and drills screeching as they tore through wood. In the background, sewing machines could be heard, along with the occasional curse as the needle got stuck in the fabric. One person, however, was quiet, focused. The paintbrush in his hand was small. The hairs tightly pressed together in order to create the perfect details on the backdrop. Erik was hunched over, sitting cross-legged on the stage floor as he squinted at the distant forest he was perfecting. Setting your bag down in the second row, you headed up the stage stairs.

“Hey,” you said softly in order not to scare him. 

Blinking, he turned around. His glasses were on the very tip of his nose, having slipped from the slight bit of sweat that had conjured on his face from the glaring stage lights. With a green speckled finger, he pushed the frame back up to its proper position. “Hey! I thought you had a project?”

You shrugged. “I did, but… I kind of hit a wall and needed to give my brain a rest. I’m sorry, I guess I should have gotten lunch with you anyway.”

“That’s alright. If you want, I still have half of my sandwich left.”

Smiling, you ruffled his hair. “Thanks, I’m not really hungry.” Minseok’s dismissive response had ruined the idea of food for you. Later you knew you would be starving, but right now food sounded like a great way to churn your stomach and see what it had been brewing all morning. “I’m just going to go hang out in the seats, if that’s okay?”

“Yeah,” he nodded. “No one will bother you or question it. Not that anyone would notice in the first place.”

“It’s pretty crazy around here, isn’t it?”

“You missed the big explosion when Dorothy couldn’t find the armchair for the second act. Turns out, someone just leaned a piece of wood for the set against it and hid it from view. Still took us half an hour to find it.”

You snorted. “Wow. I’m actually kind of sad I missed that.” You kissed his cheek, careful to avoid a smear that you were sure he had no clue about. That stupid guilt knocked once again.

The seat was only slightly comfortable, the cushion long ago worn down from a thousand performances. You stewed there in the second row. Though it wasn’t appropriate during shows, you didn’t think anyone would care if you set your feet on the seat in front of you. Folding nearly in half, you hid your face from those who might look your way as you cranked the handle to get the gears in your head to turn. 

Confusion seemed like too weak a word to describe what was going on in your head. You were angry, frustrated, sad, relieved. There had to be some language in the world that tied those emotions all together. You just didn’t know it. Perhaps that one word could be the pill you needed to no longer feel this way. If you could shove all of that into a single box, you would be fine. But is it ever that simple? When you closed your eyes and tried not to think of anything in particular, Minseok’s face faded into view. You’d shake your head to drive the image away. It came back anyway.

You felt powerless against this unseen pull, this innate desire to see him again, even after what had just happened in the courtyard. Your mind made excuses, told you that if you simply asked him to explain then he would. Looking up at Erik, you sighed. 

There was no comparison because they were two different people. Erik was the sensitive artist, the kind who went to coffee shops on Friday nights to hear a mediocre guitar player sing his “poetry” because he believed everyone deserved an audience. Minseok, on the other hand, was a strange combination of math lab nerd and soccer team captain. He was goofy and dorky, easily amused by corny jokes, but also had the physique of someone who ran five miles in the A.M. for the fun of it. What you couldn’t figure out was what drew you to him in the first place. In any normal, not-already-dating-someone situation, you wouldn’t have been interested in his type. Yet, it was almost… effortless, being around him. Even after all these years, you sometimes had to force yourself into conversation with Erik. Comfortable silences didn’t exactly exist in your relationship, but you always chalked that up to your own personality. Now you wondered if those moments would be better with Minseok. 

Was this a normal thing? You heard stories of college sweethearts all the time and for the last few years, you thought you and Erik would join that club. You hadn’t thought about marriage, per se, but you hadn’t seen an end either. The idea of coming to a fork in the road had never occurred to you. While logic and third party advice you’d casually picked up over your life told you to stick to the left, you were being drawn to the right. One road you could easily see where it led, signs, clear pastures, and everything. The other way wasn’t as clear, disappearing into thick woods that were both inviting and foreboding. You didn’t know if there was another side for the road to come out to. The only way you would ever find out would be to follow it. 

You were able to sit there in that second row seat for a few hours, surprisingly, with your phone and the internet as your companion. Only occasionally would you contemplate that fork again. Left, right, left, right. Easy, hard, easy, hard. In the end, you decided you needed to see Minseok again to really decide. 

The stage manager called it quits late in the afternoon. Erik washed up his brushes and came to meet you. “Hungry yet?” You nodded, more for something else to do before you were alone again. “Good. I’m starving.” Taking your bag like the gentleman that he was, he waited for you to stand up and then walked you out of the theatre.

Dinner ended up being a small burger joint that Erik had been craving all day. You gave no complaints as you started salivating at the thought of their fries. Surely they had to have some sort of secret, addictive ingredient to make fried potato sticks so incredibly delicious. The two of you ended up splitting a large basket of the side. It stayed equally in the middle of the table so no one could say that the other was hogging. Yes. Safe. Easy. Seeable. 

Erik offered a follow up to dinner, but you feigned exhaustion (though there might not have been any faking truthfully, as your mind was tired from constantly running throughout the day). He walked you all the way to the door of your room. As usual, he told you goodnight and leaned in for a kiss. But unlike your normal anticipation, you flinched back to avoid his lips. He stared at you in confusion. Clearing your throat, you made it up to him by kissing his cheek before running for cover in your dorm. From the light of the hallway, you could see that Erik stood on the other side for a few seconds, hesitating to understand what had just happened, before finally walking away. 

Teeth clenched down on your bottom lip, you pulled your phone out of your back pocket. Thankfully, Willa was still out so you were alone. The glare of your phone burned in the darkness. You squinted as you moved your thumb across the screen, unlocking it before opening the contacts. The number you wanted was easy enough to find. The pad of your thumb hovered over the little green phone. It accepted the slightest touch and switched over to calling mode. You placed the speaker to your ear. 

Rrriiinggg. Rrriiinnngggg. 

“Hello?”

You sucked in air. He’d answered. You didn’t have a plan for this. You didn’t have any sort of plan after pressing call. You’d hoped that he was one of those people who didn’t have a voicemail set up. 

“Hello? (y/n)?”

You hung up. 

**

Minseok watched you stalk off in the exact direction he wished you hadn’t. Anywhere else; he would have been fine with you going anywhere besides the theatre where your boyfriend was. His wolf growled and clawed with jealousy. Why was he so stupid? Since when was keeping his mate a secret more important than being with you? Of course he wanted to eat lunch with you, to see how you got along with his brothers. But the idea of Baekhyun figuring it out had caused him to panic. As obnoxious as Baekhyun could be, he wasn’t stupid. At some point during the meal, Minseok would have done something a little overprotective and Baekhyun would have started to connect the dots. Unfortunately, he’d already picked up on something. 

“Oooo, breaking the rules, are we?” The brat even had the audacity to wiggle his eyebrows at the eldest wolf. 

Not holding back, Minseok swung, hitting a good target on the upper arm. 

“Ow!”

“First, it's not a rule,” Minseok grumbled. “Junmyeon simply suggested that we don’t date. Besides, you’re one to talk. How’s Daisy?”

Baekhyun was hardly phased. He sported a cheeky grin. “She’s great.”

Bored, Sehun asked, “Can we just go eat now? Who cares who Minseok was flirting with?”

“I wasn’t flirting with her!” Minseok shouted. He explained in a lower voice, “She’s having trouble in her math class so I’m doing Sungkyu a favor and helping her out so she can pass. That’s it.”

“So why didn’t you want her to eat with us, then?” Jongin asked innocently. 

Minseok flinched. Jongin was more observant than anyone would give him credit for. Not that Minseok was subtle in any sense of the word. “I didn’t say that I didn’t want her to eat with us. Knowing you all, you would have let something slip about what we are.”

“Minseok, we all caught that she was willing to join us,” Chanyeol said. 

Huffing, Minseok grumbled, “Are we going to go eat or should I just go by myself?”

Shrugging off the odd behavior, Baekhyun turned and headed for the parking lot. Minseok was quick to follow, feeling smaller than normal surrounded by his pack members. In his head, he pictured himself running back towards the theatre, bursting through the doors, and - in true dramatic fashion - declaring you his. 

That would be a complete disaster. He should only do that if he wanted you to never talk to him ever again. 

Minseok hardly paid attention as Chanyeol drove them to his favorite pizza place. He was in a trance as the others took control of what to order. Physically, he sat in the booth next to Sehun with Baekhyun on the other side. His shoulder was pressed into the chipped wooden guard rail that ran along the wall but he hardly noticed the uncomfortable poke in his skin. His mind was still back at the campus. He was driving himself crazy trying to figure out how he was going to make this up to you, how he was going to explain his bizarre switch up to you. He hardly ate, which was fine since the others were more than happy to devour the three large pizzas with varying toppings. The others weren’t bothered by his quietness since it was nothing new. Minseok was always more of an observer than a participant. In a time like this, it worked to his advantage.

There was no consulting Minseok when the lunch was through. They all simply piled back into the car and headed out of town towards the woods. Vague mentions of going for a run were tossed around. Minseok didn’t voice any sort of agreement. He wasn’t in the mood. Ha. A wolf not in the mood to run wild among the trees? He really was turned upside down because of you. While the younger ones headed straight for the trees, Minseok headed up the porch and through the front living room until he came to the kitchen. Oh, thank god. There were still beers in the fridge. He grabbed one and immediately opened it, still chugging as he walked over to the breakfast booth. 

“Did you have fun?”

Junmyeon slid into the booth across from him. Minseok put the can down. “Yeah. At first. We had fun with the project. It was when the others showed up that things…  went bad.”

“What do you mean?” Junmyeon asked with a frown. 

“I… panicked. The others invited her to join us and I….” Minseok shrugged. 

“Worried that the others would figure it out?” Junmyeon guessed. The response was a nod. 

“Figure what out?” 

Shit.

Baekhyun stood in the entryway, looking back and forth between the eldest and the alpha. Minseok gulped. He thought that all four of them had gone out on a run and he hadn’t heard anyone else in the house. Stepping further into the kitchen, Baekhyun asked again, “Figure what out?”

Minseok looked to Junmyeon for help. None was to be found. 

“You should probably tell them.”

“I’m not going to tell just Baekhyun so he can go running and tell the others and exaggerate.”

“I can always call a family meeting.”

“I don’t want to make that big of a deal out of it.”

“Too late on that. Besides, that’s the best way to get everyone here. Get it out of the way.”

“Or to get none of them here.”

“I’m still standing here,” Baekhyun scoffed.

Minseok looked at him. “I know.”

Junmyeon sighed. “Baekhyun, will you go get the others? Tell them it's important?”

He nodded. “Sure. Be back in a flash.” He left, already shedding the hoodie over his head. 

Slumping down in the booth, Minseok felt defeated. Junmyeon sensed this immediately. “It really won’t be that bad. And they need to be prepared.”

“Prepared?” 

“Yes. Once a pack member finds the first mate, the others will slowly start to find their own. It won’t be immediate. It could take years, really. But it’s like a domino effect. They should be aware that it's their turn next.”

It made sense. The pack was always connected, both in mind and in instinct. But it had been just them for so long, the idea of bringing in mates to the fold was odd. Minseok wasn’t sure how the others would react. Fists clenched on the table, he leaned his head down. It took almost half an hour before the rest of the pack came back. Yixing had arrived first, coming back from a lab he was making up from earlier in the week. The rest came into the kitchen ten minutes later. They were knocking into each other as they yanked on shirts and pants. 

“Okay, Junmyeon, what’s the emergency?” Jongdae asked, very prepared to be his usual sarcastic, troll self. 

But Junmyeon didn’t reply, letting Minseok take the reins instead. Minseok didn't want to do this. He wanted to run, to keep his secret a little while longer while he figured this whole thing out. But Junmyeon was right. It was time.

“(y/n) - the girl that some of you met today… she’s my mate.”

It was pure silence in the kitchen. It was unnatural in this household. The only time it was ever this quiet was when the house was empty. 

“I’m sorry,” Jongdae said. “You said… mate? Right?” Minseok nodded. He growled.  “Fantastic.”

“You really found your mate, Minseok?” Yixing was more enthusiastic about the news. He looked elated, even. A small smile was creeping up. 

Despite the stunned silence, Minseok found Yixing’s energy infectious. “Yeah. I did.”

“Have you told her yet?” Chanyeol asked. 

“She has a boyfriend,” Jongin reminded him. 

“Oh. Right.”

“I’m working on it,” Minseok said. “I just-” His phone vibrated in his pocket. Pulling it out, his eyes widened at the name popping up on the screen. With sixteen eyes on him, he answered, frantic. “Hello?” A gasp on the other end. “Hello? (y/n)?” You didn’t answer. Two seconds ticked by and you ended the call. He stared at his now black screen in shock. Then his brain started again. “I got to go.”

“Was it her?” Junmyeon asked. 

“Wait, I have more questions!” Baekhyun whined. Minseok was out of the kitchen in a heartbeat, jumping into his car and flying down the road. He didn’t know if you were hurt or in trouble. Why had you called him? Why didn’t you say anything? He was determined to find out. There was only one problem. 

He didn’t know your dorm number. 

You’d briefly mentioned the shared campus housing with your best friend, but that was all the information he had. Looks like he would have to find it the old fashion way. 

Asking. 

As soon as he parked, he headed towards the dorms, thankful at least that the two large housing buildings were close in proximity. He headed for the smaller cafeteria located in the lobby of the first building. The kitchen was closed but there were still students taking advantage of the open seating. Okay. Here it goes. 

The first few groups that Minseok asked had never heard of you. He was starting to berate himself on what a stupid idea this was. He should have called you back and asked you to call him when you were ready because it most certainly would have gone to voicemail. But his luck soon turned around. He approached a group of three girls sitting in a corner. One of them had a camera. 

“Excuse me?” They looked up. Minseok cleared his throat. “I’m sorry, but I’m trying to find (y/n) (l/n)’s room. Do you happen to know her?”

One girl narrowed her eyes. “Why do you want to know?”

Minseok swallowed. “I… I have her notebook. She’d left it behind earlier at study group. She really needs it for class on Monday but I can’t get a hold of her.” Please believe his stupid lie. 

The girl who’d spoken made eye contact with her two friends. “She’s in room twenty-three-nineteen. If she doesn’t answer, just slide the notebook under the door.”

He could almost jump from elated joy. “Thank you!” 

Taking off, he headed for the stairs. Your dorm room was only on the second floor so it didn’t take long to follow the signs until he was right outside your door. Only now did the possibility that your roommate would be the one to answer cross his mind. What lie would he have to come up with then? He had to take the chance. 

After knocking, he waited, shifting from foot to foot in an attempt to release the nervous energy surging through his body. The door swung open. 

It was you. Thank goodness. 

You were not the same level of relieved. “What the hell are you doing here?”

Crap. He probably should have thought of that. “You called me.”

You looked back over your shoulder before stepping out into the hallway, letting the door shut behind you. “So? That doesn’t mean you can just show up here!”

“I need to talk to you.” 

You licked your lips. No, please don’t do that. It’s too tempting already to grab your face and kiss you against the door. Without speaking, you went back into your room. Well, that was a bust. But before he could walk away with slumped shoulders, you came back, this time with shoes on and your bag. “Let’s go.”

He gave no protest as you led him out of the dorm and into the dark. He had no idea where the two of you were headed, but he planned on embracing whatever came his way. The two of you were going to talk. His heart was thumping hard against his sternum. He was getting more alone time with you. Who knew what would end up flying out of his mouth in these next few hours. Would this be the night of truths and revelations?

[princess-mei]

Mei 美美 Qin – Character Sheet

it’s like everything you say is a sweet revelation / all i wanna do is get into your head / yeah we could stay alone, you and me and this temptation / sipping on your lips, hanging on by a thread, baby

late night watching television / but how’d we get in this position / it’s way too soon, i know this isn’t love (no) / but i need to tell you something

i really really really really really really like you / and i want you, do you want me, do you want me too?

Archetype — The Explorer Birthday — July 9th, 2002 Zodiac Sign — Year of the Horse, Rising Leo, Sun in Cancer, Moon in Cancer MBTI — ENFP Enneagram — 2, the Helper Temperament — Sanguine Hogwarts House — Gryffindor Moral Alignment — Chaotic Good Primary Vice — Lust Primary Virtue — Charity Element — Water/Fire (she’s a Water Horse, so she definitely identifies with that but in Western tradition she is Fire.)

Overview:

Mother — Tanya Qin Father — Peng Qin Mother’s Occupation — Editor-in-Chief of the San Francisco Chronicle Father’s Occupation — financial diviner Family Finances — wealthy Birth Order — middle Brothers —  none Sisters — Ting-Ting (Gemma Chan, May 13, 1993), Su (January 22, 2003) Other Close Family — close to their mother’s side, father’s side lives in China, but they’ve taken trips to see them once or twice. do not have any cousins/aunts/uncles, but close to their grandparents. Best Friend — Daisy Zanetti, they grew up together. Met in school and were thick as thieves right away. Daisy is a half-fairy, so they both understood the whole “half” background thing. Other Friends — Lots and lots of friends~ Enemies — There was probably like one Mean Girl that Mei was always antagonizing and who was always antagonizing her. Pets — None. Home Life During Childhood — Relatively happy. Has nice, loving parents. Did a lot of Family Activities, since that was important. Mother was busy a lot with work, but her father was around a lot and Ting-Ting was always around (until she went to school.) Town or City Name(s) — San Francisco, CA What Did His or Her Bedroom Look Like — Posters everywhere! Very personalized and customized. Lots of reds and golds. Probably had like one of those net things around her bed. Always very messy, because Mei starts a project and then just jumps to the next. Lots of natural light too probably. Any Sports or Clubs — Dance and Gymnastics. Mei has kept up with both of these throughout the year. Does both ballet and hip hop. Her favorite gymnastics is rhythmics. Favorite Toy or Game — She wouldn’t consider it a toy or game, of course, but loves doing tarot and tea readings. Also enjoys a good board game, is very competitive though. Schooling — Public school. Favorite Subject — Physical Education ?? Maybe literature. Art classes… Popular or Loner — Decently popular. She wasn’t one of the people that everyone knew but she had a wide circle of friends. Important Experiences or Events — Discovering she had divination skills. Deciding her specialization. Moving to Swynlake! Nationality — American Culture — Chinese-American Religion and beliefs — Spiritual, borrowing from a spread of Taoism, Buddhism, Chinese folklore, and Confucianism.

Physical Appearance:

Face Claim — Cheng Xiao Complexion — Fair-skinned Hair Colour — Naturally a dark brown, but she dyes it a lot! Eye Colour — Dark brown. Height — 5’6 Build — Athletic, but slim. Tattoos — None. Piercings — Ears. Common Hairstyle — Likes to braid it or put it in two buns. Does a lot of half-up/half-down hairstyles. Clothing Style — Chic and trendy, lots of colors and patterns. Mannerisms — Very bouncy, doesn’t sit still much. Twirls her hair around her finger a lot. Usual Expression —

Health:

Overall (do they get sick easily)? — Pretty healthy! I’m sure this is due to Ting-Ting constantly balancing her Yin-Yang Physical Ailments — None. Neurological Conditions — None. Allergies — None! Grooming Habits — Rather good. Takes a lot of care with her appearance. Always makes sure to moisturize and exfoliate and change out of sweaty clothes. Sleeping Habits — Average. Eating Habits — Eats a lot because Su is constantly making things, but can forget meals if she is distracted or concentrating. Exercise Habits —  Exercises a lot! Does all sorts of things like pilates and swimming and jogging. Emotional Stability — I give her a 7/10, she loses points for being a stubborn, unreasonable teenager and for her temper, but otherwise is pretty even-keeled. Body Temperature — Average. Sociability — Very social! Loves surrounding herself with people. Addictions — Love? Drug Use — None, we will see. Alcohol Use — Has gone to parties where she’s drank before, but not often.

Your Character’s Character:

Bad Habits — Interrupting people, bouncing from topic to topic, meddling in things that she shouldn’t, talking back, being a general nuisance. Good Habits — Very kind, very caring. Wants to take care of all her people. Strong moral compass. Best Characteristic — Her certainty. Worst Characteristic — Her stubbornness. Worst Memory — Being told she would have to move to Swynlake. Best Memory — When her father told her that he was proud of her for completing her studies for being a sorcerer and accepting an apprenticeship. Proud of — Her magic, her family history, her looks, her sporting ability. Embarrassed by — Not much, probably the fact she isn’t very good at school. Driving Style — Probably was just learning how to drive. A speed demon, but surprisingly a good driver. Strong Points — Her moral center and her big heart. Temperament — Can be explosive, but general soft and sweet. Attitude — Generally positive. Weakness — Not knowing what she wants. Fears — Not knowing what she’s going to do with her life. Phobias — Anything unlucky, though I wouldn’t call it a phobia, more of a cautious regard. Secrets — None really? She doesn’t keep much from people. She’s very “This Is Who I am. Fight Me.” Regrets — Having to leave Swynlake. Feels Vulnerable When — People are angry or upset with her, she’s not following her heart. Pet Peeves — Being told she’s wrong, lol. Conflicts — Duty to Family v Duty to Heart Motivation — Following her heart. Short Term Goals and Hopes — Make friends and something out of her life in Swynlake. Long Term Goals and Hopes — Figure out what she wants to do with her life. Sexuality — As-is she is straight, but this can change. Day or Night Person — Day Introvert or Extrovert — Extrovert. Optimist or Pessimist — Optimist except she can be really sour when things don’t go her way.

Likes and Styles:

Music — Oh, gosh–where to start? Mei loves love songs, of course. Big fan of Elton John, Elvis Presley, Celine Dion, etc etc. She also loves modern stuff, of course. Taylor Swift, Carly Rae Jepsen, Ed Sheeran…if she’s really feeling it some Florence and the Machine. Loves KPop too. I’ll let Lauryl tell me who she stans. (Is that the phrase I feel like there is a phrase.) Anyway, anything that is love related, she’ll give it a listen. Books — Doesn’t actually like reading that much, tbh. Doesn’t hold her interest. Magazines — Do people read magazines anymore? Does Buzzfeed count as a magazine? Probably giggles over Cosmopolitan. Foods — Sweets! Chocolate is her favorite, but she likes licorice a lot too. Is one of those weird people that likes black licorice. Also, loves a good rice pudding. That’s probably her favorite dessert. She also loves chicken, any kind of chicken–she doesn’t care what you put it in or what you put on it. Isn’t much of a picky eater. Actually really enjoys being adventurous with her food. Drinks — Green tea, green tea, green tea! Mei loves tea, especially iced. She also surprisingly likes salt soda water–she goes back and forth on sweet and savory. Sometimes, she just really wants salt soda water because it is just crisp and refreshing and wakes her back-up and reorients her yin-yang when she needs it. Animals — Elephants! Mei loves elephants. She’s that girl that has like elephant shirts and an elephant backpack and an elephant stuffed animal probably. They have such a high emotional capacity and Mei really respects them for this. They are also just so cute with their floppy ears and their soft, sweet eyes! Loves birds too as most of them are symbols of good luck and good tidings–besides owls, which are harbingers of death. Sports — Gymnastics and dance. Social Issues — Magick Rights is the biggest one. Also feminism. Also all the “main” issues. Favorite Saying — “Better to light a candle, than to curse the darkness” - Chinese Proverb Color — Golds, yellows, reds, blues are her favourites. She loves gold because it is a Classy color. Most of her jewelry is gold. She loves yellow because it is bright and happy! Red is lucky in Chinese culture and it always reminds her of times like New Year’s! Also, it is the color of passion and love. Blues she likes because they are calming and gentle.  These are her lucky colors. She also loves pink, even though it is technically a color that she should avoid. Really hates white, because she doesn’t like what a blank slate it is. Also, hates brown because it is an icky boring color. As you can see, she has a lot of Opinions on colors. Clothing —Chic and trendy, lots of colors and patterns. Jewelry — Loves it! Wears mostly gold. Probably has a few staple pieces but then exchanges things depending on her mood. Websites — Tumblr, Instagram, Twitter etc etc TV Shows — CW shows and K/Cdramas Movies — All the great love classics: Gone with the Wind, the Titanic, When Harry Met Sally, Roman Holiday, all of Audrey Hepburn probably, the Notebook, Singing in the Rain…I could go on and on. She loves movies that tug at the heart strings and are full of that wild, amazing, passionate kind of love. They always make her swoon and if she is choosing a movie for movie night, you know it’s gonna be a romantic tearjerker. Though, she also likes romcoms. Doesn’t like action movies or horror movies or anything too intense, they freak her out Greatest Want — To figure out what to do with her life. Greatest Need — To grow up and learn things aren’t all about her, lmao.

Where and How Does Your Character Live Now:

Home — A three bedroom apartment with Ting-Ting and Su. Household furnishings — Rather plain at the moment, but will probably grow cozy as they settle in. Favorite Possession — Her pseudogrimoire where she writes down all the signs and stuff that she sees and puzzles out the meaning to. Most Cherished Possession — Her wand, which is a fan that was her mother’s, her mother gave it to her and her father and Ting-Ting help her imbibe it with magic. Neighborhood — Tortuga Place Married Before — No Significant Other Before — Non-serious boyfriends and Serious crushes Children — She iS a child Relationship with Family — Very close with her dad, even though he’s always yelling at her and being disappointed in her. They have a lot in common and she loves him. Her and her mother also get along more or less, she’s less stringent than her dad. Ting-Ting and her probably have the most contentious relationship, but even that hasn’t been that bad really. Mostly Mei being a nosy, annoying little sister. It will get more intense now that Ting-Ting is the authority figure and Mei is pissed about their situation. Su and Mei get along more or less well, they annoy each other, as sisters are wont to do, but Mei would def consider Su one of her best friends. Car — None. Career — Student Dream Career — She doesn’t know !! Dream Life — Married, with children, though she doesn’t know what she wants out of a career. Love Life — Nonexistant, which pisses her off. Talents or Skills — Excellent gymnast and very good with her magic. Intelligence Level — Decently intelligent, has street smarts, tbh. Very sharp in conversation. Finances — Wealthy

[that-one-girl-behind-you]

Illicio 12/?

Part 11

"Not someone." Helen smiles to the tips of her ears. "Not all of us can have a sweetheart that doubles as a snack cabinet, Jon."

He has the fleeting thought that he likes that she uses his name, when she called him Archivist before.

"Why did- hm." He stops himself before completing the question. It's about choice, he remembers. Or it should be. "I'd like to know why you gave them the tape."

Above him, Daisy nods approvingly. Jon snorts. Three monsters learning how to be civil to each other.

"Backup plan." Helen's shoulders shrug way over her head. "In case he wasn't enough to stop you."

"Very determined to save my humanity, I see."

"It seemed like the kind of thing you'd care about."

XII

Jon doesn't want to talk about Tim, it turns out. Gerry doesn't press the subject, but he realizes as they go back to the flat that Jon's burrowing closer to him than usual. It may be a bit selfish to enjoy holding Jon close when he's only looking for comfort, but he can't bring himself to feel guilty at the spark of pride in his chest that comes from knowing Jon feels safe when pressed against his side.

"The offer still stands," Gerry says quietly as he sits on the sofa. "I could feed you, anytime you need it."

"That's not-" Jon drops on the seat next to him with a huff. "I don't want to use you. You- it's already bad enough that- that you can't leave this place if you want to."

"You know? I don't think I would." Gerry shrugs. "Not anymore."

The silence that falls over them after his words is heavy and tense, like a net about to break under the tension of their unsaid words.

"Was Tim right?" Jon asks after a moment. His voice has the bitter taste of nerves when it pours into him, and Gerry has a sinking feeling that he knows where this is heading, but that's miles away from knowing how he feels about it. He supposes he did want to have this conversation, but the timing is not... ideal. "Was that flir- is that what you were doing?"

Honesty has never failed him when it comes to Jon, Gerry decides, taking a deep breath to still whatever is stirring in his stomach. "I was. Thank you for noticing," he says. Then, after Jon's face goes carefully blank, "we should talk about it, shouldn't we?"

Jon grimaces. "I would rather we didn't."

"Huh. Okay, we don't have to. Can I- is there a reason why?" Gerry asks, ignoring the pang of pain at the refusal. It's not like he didn't know what he was getting into with this man that has been treated so unfairly by this world that he's wary to feel anything that is not fear and pain.

"Because-" Jon starts, stops, then starts again after a deep breath and a slow exhalation. "Because it took me three and a half years to figure out how I felt about Martin, and this- Gerry, how do we know this is not the Beholding making you think you feel-"

"Oh no," Gerry cuts in as irritation sparks in his stomach. "No. Jon, I'm a grown man. And a fairly smart one, if I do say so myself. Believe me when I say I know when the Beholding wants me to feel a certain way, and this is not one of those things."

Jon sputters a little, and Gerry shifts away on the sofa when he starts looking a little like a cornered animal. "But that- it makes no sense, why-"

"For God's sake- Jon, the stubbornness is part of the charm, but you make this very difficult." Gerry runs a hand down his face. Of course, of course this is Jon's thing, his need to believe everyone deserves better, except himself. "Listen. I'm not going to give you an itemized list, so go ahead and compel me if you don't believe me. I'm- I have feelings. For you." And they say romance is dead.

Jon's mouth is hanging open, his breathing is shallow, and Gerry worries for a moment that he's going to have an actual panic attack over this. That would make this one of his most awkward love declarations, for sure.

"Gerry I- this is-"

"Look, it's alright." Gerry lifts a hand to stop him "I know how you feel about Martin, Jon. This is not- I'm not demanding anything from you."

"I know you're not," Jon mutters, his gaze dropping. "I know you wouldn't."

"Except... I guess I am demanding that you take my feelings seriously, because they're real." Gerry hunches over a little to look at Jon in the eye. "It doesn't matter what you do with them. Just- I don't regret this. I don't regret you."

"Yet," Jon says so lightly it might as well have been Gerry's imagination, if not for the fact that he knows perfectly well it's something Jon would think. "I need a moment."

Gerry nods slowly. "All the time you need."

He's expecting Jon to retreat into his bedroom, so he's understandably surprised when the man just... stays there, looking ahead at the blank screen of the TV as the seconds stretch on and on. Fine, this is... not awkward or uncomfortable at all. It occurs to Gerry at around the four minute mark that maybe he should leave instead, this is Jon's space after all. He wants to ask, but he did just say 'all the time you need', like an idiot and-

Slowly, clumsily, Jon's burn-smooth fingers tangle with Gerry's on the cushions. Oh.

"I- you said you know how I feel about Martin." Jon doesn't turn to face him, but Gerry figures it's alright.

"I do. If you ask me, it's a bit rude that no one's thought to ask me how I feel about Martin," Gerry says casually. Jon's face whips around like he's been slapped, and Gerry struggles to keep his face straight at Jon's puzzled frown.

"I thought..." Jon lets the thought trail off into a questioning silence, and Gerry shrugs again.

"Martin is... he loves you." That much is true, however you look at it. "That's enough for me to give him a chance. And you know? He's not half bad, when he's not being overly dramatic about me being at his flat uninvited."

Jon doesn't even seem to register the joke. His face is a study in changes so minimal Gerry probably wouldn't notice if he wasn't looking for them; as it is, he can see the confusion in Jon's eyes, read the slightest hint of fear in the way his lips purse tightly against each other.

"I'm saying you don't have to choose, Jon." Gerry says as calmly as he can. He's quite lucky he doesn't have a heart anymore, he decides. "I'm here, if you want me. Any way you want me."

Jon's face is looking steadily more and more flushed, but he doesn't seem to be panicking anymore, which is... good. "Is- I don't know if- is that really fair to you?"

"What? Sharing you?" Gerry asks, and Jon coughs nervously. "Talk to me?"

"I'm just- I don't often-" Jon runs his good hand through his hair with a sheepish, awkwardly pleased chuckle, and Gerry has the thought that if he wasn't completely gone for Jon already, this would be enough to do him in. "I don't think I've ever had anyone talk of it like-"

"Like you're something good that I would want to keep for myself?" Gerry's lips twitch into a smile when Jon's face flushes even more, and it's both endearing and sad, how even the delight at the confession is guarded and the slightest bit disbelieving. "Because you are. But who knows? You love Martin; we'll work something out, because Mister Sims, I am in love with you."

It's a thrill to say it, to see Jon's eyes widen the slightest bit, his lips twitching almost nervously into his usual lopsided smile. Gerry feels his stomach flip at the sight, and has the fleeting thought that he'd gladly spend the rest of his life saying those words again, if it elicits that reaction. Who knows? Perhaps the two of them will be enough to convince him they mean it, once they get Martin back.

"We should-" Jon clears his throat. "Should we be focusing on this? With everything else that's happening?" he asks, but he doesn't take his hand back and as far as Gerry's concerned, that's an invitation to continue the talk.

"I don't know. I think we should." Gerry runs his thumb over Jon's knuckles. He's learned a few things in his years of fighting entities, about the things that make you keep going when there is no light around you. "It's the small things, the... the normal things-"

"They give you a purpose," Jon breathes out slowly. He turns to look at Gerry then, his face veiled in a soft awe that almost looks like hope.

"They really do." Gerry whispers back. It's foreign, to be seen as a motive instead of a tool. Exciting. "I-"

"Can I kiss you?" Jon blurts out, and Gerry half chokes, half snorts on whatever he was going to say next. Jon's face is equal parts embarrassment and determination. "It's okay if-"

"No, I-" try as he may, Gerry can't hold back a delighted laugh. "I would like that very much, Jon."

Slowly, Jon's hands come to cup his face like they did some days ago at his office, when Gertrude mentioned- Gerry pushes the thought away, focusing instead on Jon's nervous face as he rises up in his knees, and he lets his eyes fall closed when Jon tilts his head to the side.

Jon's lips are warm and tentative in their advance, and if his voice was intoxicating, his touch is simply addictive. Gerry finds himself trailing after him when Jon pulls back, and his stomach does a flip at the pleased chuckle that comes from deep in Jon's throat as he concedes into a second kiss.

Gerry's tongue pokes out almost on reflex to wet at the chapped lips pressed against him, and Jon's mouth parts like the light caress had been a command, catching Gerry's lower lip between his.

When they part again, Jon's teeth catch and pull softly at the ring on Gerry's lip, and Gerry's eyes fly open as Jon retreats. They sit there in tense silence, until Gerry's eyebrows raise and he tilts his head, giving him an amused, questioning smile as he jangles the piercing with his tongue.

Jon's blush is almost luminous, and Gerry cackles as he goes to pull this ridiculous, perfect man into a hug, and perhaps -if he's lucky- a couple more kisses.

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

"...Huh." Melanie rips a few more strands of grass. "So he's back?"

"Seems like it. Just thought you should know, maybe tell Basira." Gerry shrugs beside her. It's nice to just lay down on the grass at the park and relax, now that their mysterious fires turned out to be a -somewhat- false alarm. "Jon compelled him, so I believe him when he says he's not here to hurt anyone, but I'm still going to keep an eye on him."

Melanie turns to look at him, and sure enough he's got an award-winning frown on his face. "Why? It's not like he can lie to Jon."

"Don't like him."

It takes a second, before the dots connect in Melanie's mind, and she sprinkles her handful of grass over him. "Was he mean to your boyfriend?" she asks with a teasing smile.

Gerry turns to her, unimpressed, and blows a strand of grass off his nose. "Actually, yes. But it's alright, we kissed a lot afterwards, and it was fine."

Melanie groans. "Say one more thing about that, and I'm going to go back to my stabbing days."

Gerry laughs, and Melanie feels her lips twitch into a smile. It's a nice day to not be afraid.

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

Jon's office is large enough, but it still feels uncomfortably cramped when Basira pulls Daisy and Melanie in, and Jon has the gall of looking questioningly up at them.

"I- what's this about?" Jon frowns, climbing to his feet.

"Sit. Down." Basira orders. Jon arches an eyebrow, but he complies with the order.

"Daisy?" he asks, and Basira feels her blood boil when Daisy just shrugs by her side.

"We found something, Jon." Daisy says almost softly. Basira punctuates it by slamming the tape recorder on the desk, and Jon flinches back.

"Ah," he says almost sadly, looking at the tape like a note left behind by someone long gone. "We'd been wondering where that would end up. Should've known."

"So you know what it is." Melanie comes closer to the desk with cautious steps, and Basira doesn't warn her to stand down because she can't for the life of her decide on what outcome she wants for this, not when something inside her pushes back against the indignation, against the knowledge that this is wrong, like a snake whispering that she too could reach for the offered fruit.

"That would be Jessica Tyrell's tape. Or rather... her statement," Jon mutters quietly. "About her meeting with the Archivist."

"Nice to know you at least remember her name." Basira crosses her arms, as the name flares up like a searchlight in her mind.

"I remember all of them." Jon sighs.

"What?" Basira slams her hands on the desk, and shakes off the hand Daisy lays on her shoulder.

Flanking Jon's side, Melanie rolls her eyes. "You're really not helping your case."

"I suppose I'm not," Jon says, nodding. "I'm not going to deny I hurt these people."

"So what? Are we supposed to just think it's alright because you're sorry?" Basira feels Daisy's hand come to rest at her shoulder again, firmer this time. "Just forget about it?"

"That is not what I'm saying." Jon gives her an impatient eyeroll, and Basira wants to strangle him. She's been working herself to the bone to keep everyone alive and human, and this idiot-

"How many?"

It takes him a moment, before he dares bringing up his eyes to meet hers. "Seven, counting Miss Tyrell."

"Jon..." Daisy whispers by Basira's side, sad and hurt, and Jon averts his eyes, before he starts again.

The first one, he says, was an accident. He was out for a smoke a few days before he had his revelation about Melanie, when he realized he'd forgotten his lighter. That rings a bell in Basira's mind; she knows he always carries the shiny silver zippo with the spiderweb design. He walked into a shop to purchase another, he says, and Basira forgets about it. That's what you do when you lose your lighter, it makes perfect sense. The man, he says, wasn't even scheduled to work that day; his coworker woke up with terrible cramps, and he offered to cover their shift. Jon asked him where the lighters were, and then he asked about the warehouse.

The second was a woman he found when he went to take a walk by the riverside, because he wasn't healing well after Melanie stabbed him.

"I thought you hated walking by the river, because of the smell." Daisy mutters, and another bell rings in Basira's mind.

"This is not my fault. Don't put the blame on me," Melanie says firmly, and the bell -if there ever was one- falls silent again as Jon nods in agreement.

The next three he sought on purpose, but they came to him almost like it was them who were hunting him instead. A woman whose phone slipped from her hands and split to pieces on the ground, when she desperately needed to make a call. A man whose son, who was supposed to meet him there, was delayed due to heavy traffic caused by an accident. The last of them, ironically enough, needed a lighter. If there are any alarms in Basira's mind, she doesn't hear them, because Jon says without the strength he got from these three, he would never have found Daisy in the coffin.

Jess Tyrell he found in a coffeeshop that he heard Martin mention years ago. She saw an ad for it on Facebook before going to bed, and decided on a whim to treat herself to lunch there the next day, even if it was out of the way for her. Basira stops to think it over for a moment, but she decides in the end that it makes sense Jon would seek solace in a place that reminds him of Martin.

The last one was a man asking for change at a corner, when Jon went out to purchase coffee because they were running out at his flat. He usually sat at a different corner, but that particular morning someone called the police about a pickpocket in the area, and he decided to move for the day, just to avoid talking to them. Jon had dropped a ten pound note in his cup, and handed him a store-bought sandwich before he asked about the scars on his face.

All through Jon's tale, Basira feels something prickling at her nape. It itches and tickles as it crawls just along the edge of her consciousness, where she can't swat at it, and she can't put her finger on just what it is, because she keeps getting distracted by the thought that Jon has been feeding on innocents right under her nose.

"I- turns out I won't have to do it anymore," Jon says, and Basira realizes he hasn't stopped talking.

Melanie arches an eyebrow. "Do you think that's why the Eye brought him? So you could feed from him?"

"As an emergency resource only, if I had to guess." Jon sighs. "The Eye would much rather I keep hunting."

"Well, you won't. It can't keep changing you if you don't let it." Basira says dryly. Jon's eyes, when they land on hers, are a bright, uncanny green. "Don't say-"

"I think you Know better now, Basira." It's not the words themselves, but the sadness in Jon's voice, what makes her recoil from the desk.

"Basir-"

Daisy's question goes unanswered, as Basira rushes out the door while her heart tries to beat a hole through her chest.

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

The door to Martin's office is not uncannily cold when Gerry pushes it open. That's a good sign, at least.

"Hey. I talked to-" Gerry's eyes catch a flare of movement and light, and he crouches to the ground almost on instinct.

"Tim!" Martin's horrified voice comes from somewhere to his right, along with his heavy steps and a sound like cloth slapping against wood.

Gerry looks up to find Martin patting off a smouldering patch on the wall, and he grunts. Of fucking course.

"What are you doing here?" Gerry asks as he rises to his feet again. Tim's hand is still stretched towards him, his eyes burning like an unattended fire.

"You're a bit confused." Tim climbs from his chair, and the temperature in the office rises even more. "What are you-"

"Could you two stop that?" Martin snaps. "Tim, sit down."

Gerry watches in amazement, as the man obeys with nothing more than a sullen, wary look.

"Why is he here?" the man asks, frowning.

"Because I asked him to be here." Martin rolls his eyes, and Gerry Knows with sudden, delighted certainty that Tim has no idea, that Martin hasn't told him about the Extinction or why he's isolating himself. "Gerry, what happened?"

"I talked to him," Gerry says, making sure to be as vague as possible. "We figured something out."

Martin nods. "About..."

"About a couple things." Gerry feels his lips curl into a smirk, as Tim is practically boiling on his chair. "I'll tell you more next time. But that's settled."

"That's... that's really good." Martin gives a relieved sigh, and he seems to regain a bit more color, before fixing him with a warm, relieved smile. "Thank you, Gerry."

"Anytime," Gerry smiles back. It has the added benefit of riding the room's temperature a few more degrees. "I'll see you later for the tapes. Alone, hopefully."

"Fuck off." Tim snarls, but Gerry's already closing the door behind him.

His smile fades almost immediately, and he leans back against the door. Watching out for Martin's humanity is already hard enough without the beacon of destruction and rage that is Timothy Stoker. What is he even doing at the Institute, wasn't he so desperate to leave and be free? It's-

"You must be Gerard Keay." It's not until the man speaks that Gerry even notices he's there, and that says more about who he is than the name the Eye whispers into his mind as he looks up into the face of the tall, grey-haired stranger. Fuck.

"Peter Lukas, I suppose." Gerry squares up, arching an eyebrow and reaching behind himself as discreetly as he can, until he can turn the doorknob and crack the door open. For all his girth and bulk, Lukas looks almost ethereal, like a faraway form you can barely make out through the fog before dawn, like the silhouettes sailors made into sea monsters and legend.

"Temporary Head of the Institute, yes." Lukas gives him a jovial smile. If he noticed the opening door, he makes no mention of it. Gerry hopes the fact that Lukas is practically looking through him means he's not paying attention to what he does. "It has come to my attention that you've been... intervening, in my assistant's training."

Well, there go his hopes of helping Martin unnoticed.

"I think Martin is plenty qualified already," Gerry says with a smirk. "No need to train him anymore," he adds loudly to cover the muffled scurrying inside the office.

"The Watcher gave you a second chance as a chewtoy for the Archivist, and I, unlike Elias, am under no obligation to tolerate your meddling." Lukas' smile remains, though it doesn't reach his eyes. "If you keep messing with my affairs-"

Gerry can't help it. He snorts. "What? You'll throw me into the Lonely?"

Lukas' eyes narrow in anger. "Well, aren't you cheeky."

"I am, thank you for noticing." Gerry snorts. "Believe me, Lukas, even if I had the slightest trace of respect left for you after working under Gertrude for years, your threats wouldn't work on me."

"If you think-"

"Actually, I Know. Try it if you want to waste your time, but you can't touch me." Gerry interrupts, his face growing serious. "I know exactly where my anchor is."

"I guess we'll see, won't we?" Lukas gives him a look of distaste. Gerry really hopes he managed to buy enough time for Martin to push his friend through a window or something, because he really would be risking a holiday in the Lonely, if Lukas gets any more riled up.

"I guess we will." Gerry pats the man on the shoulder as he passes, delighting in the way he almost seems to recoil from his touch. "Get fucked."

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

"So you finally talked?" Daisy asks. They're sitting against the corner of his office again, their backs to the wall and down on the floor to make the room look bigger than it is.

Jon leans his head on her shoulder, and she leans her head on his. "We did. Mostly about my feeding, but... other things too."

"That's good. He cares about you."

"Is Basira- how is she?" Jon asks. It had been a stupid thing to say, and now she hasn't talked to him in two days.

"She's- it's difficult, Jon," Daisy says with a sigh. "She doesn't want to admit she's- Basira's constant. She doesn't change and-"

"Well that's just boring, isn't it?" Helen says by Jon's other side. He feels Daisy flinch, but he Saw the moment the door appeared on the floor beside them, and so he's not surprised when it opens, and Helen leans her crossed arms over the edge, the tips of her fingers reaching far past the edges of the door. "To always be the same? Predictable."

"Some people like stability, Helen." Jon rolls his eyes, leaning over to take a peak at Helen's corridors. From this angle it's like looking into a well-furnished pitfall, and he sees Helen's body hanging into it, much longer than it ought to be. He also sees a shadow, bending a corner at a full run many, many miles inside Helen. "Did you eat someone?"

"Not someone." Helen smiles to the tips of her ears. "Not all of us can have a sweetheart that doubles as a snack cabinet, Jon."

He has the fleeting thought that he likes that she uses his name, when she called him Archivist before.

"Why did- hm." He stops himself before completing the question. It's about choice, he remembers. Or it should be. "I'd like to know why you gave them the tape."

Above him, Daisy nods approvingly. Jon snorts. Three monsters learning how to be civil to each other.

"Backup plan." Helen's shoulders shrug way over her head. "In case he wasn't enough to stop you."

"Very determined to save my humanity, I see."

"It seemed like the kind of thing you'd care about."

Jon sighs. "It is. You probably could've dropped it to Melanie instead, however. Basira has a lot on her plate, like Daisy said, with her changes. Not to mention she's still trying to find leads on the ritual for the Dark and-" Jon stops, when Daisy's breathing stops.

"She's what?" she asks, and only then does Jon catch on to the fading static, and the soft pressure of the Eye in his mind. Daisy straightens, and he closes his eyes to take a breath and let some more Knowledge come. Helen is looking curiously up at him, when he parts his eyelids again.

"At Ny-Alesünd. The cult of Mr. Pitch has their Dark Sun there, and- and she knew this," Jon lets out an irate laugh. "Of course she did."

He climbs to his feet, vaguely registering the sound of Helen's door closing and Daisy standing up to match him.

"Jon-" she calls, but he's already crossing the office and out the door.

Helen's door has reappeared by the side of Basira's cot, but she doesn't seem to have noticed, lost in her book as she is.

"I thought we were done with secrets." Jon comes to a halt a few feet before the cot, and Daisy advances some more, standing almost between them.

Basira turns the last page of her book, and turns up to look at them. "That's a conversation starter."

Daisy sighs, and Jon rolls his eyes. "Ny-Alesünd, Basira. The ritual. When were you going to tell us?" he asks. Something in his chest begins to loosen up, and he wonders if it's just the promise of more knowledge helping to calm his irritation.

Basira's face clears of confusion then, though it does close off a little more. "I was gathering intel," she says, and Jon has to restrain himself from asking if it was tasty, because he doesn't want a broken nose, not even for a few minutes. "How do you know about it?" Jon arches an eyebrow. "Ah."

"Elias told you?" Jon asks. The Eye didn't volunteer that, and without the freedom to feed -a freedom he doesn't want, he reminds himself- Jon didn't think it wise to force it.

"He mentioned it." Basirs gives a sharp, annoyed shrug. "I had to make sure he was-"

"Are we having another intervention?" a third voice asks.

"Welcome back, Melanie," Helen pokes out of her door to greet the newcomers, and Jon turns. The feeling of calm that blanketed over his annoyance makes a lot more sense now, even if Gerry -and Melanie by extension- is caked head to toe in dirt. "Found another one of your books?"

"Had to unbury it before we could burn it." Melanie shrugs. "What's this about?" she sounds calm, if slightly puzzled, and Jon feels a pang of relief run through him.

Violence still lurks under Melanie's skin like a bull confined to a pen, but she's controlled it, redirected it, and none of it is aimed at the people in this room, not even him.

Gerry comes to stand behind him, and his hand lands on Jon's shoulder as easily as breathing. "What's going on?"

Jon gives Basira a pointed look. "What's going on, Basira?"

"You know what, Jon?" Basira climbs to her feet and goes to take a step forward, when Daisy lays a hand on her arm to still her. "You're acting very self righteous about sincerity in your little 'team', for someone who felt like he had the right to hide that you were feeding on innocent people for months."

"It's not-" Jon sputters, only to be interrupted.

"Yeah, okay, but why didn't you tell me about whatever this is about?" Melanie asks, frowning. "Was that another one of your 'I'm the only one qualified enough' bullcrap, or are you only telling Daisy things now?"

Daisy's hand tenses, when Basira flinches at the accusation. "Who was she supposed to tell? She-"

"Daisy-" Jon goes to take a step forward, but Gerry's grip on his shoulder tightens and pulls at him, and he too can See the blood rising inside the woman. "Daisy. The quiet."

Daisy turns to him with a snarl, but her gaze does begin to soften, and the growl that was mixing with his own static starts fading back into her throat-

"Aw, it was just about to get interesting." Helen's breathy, echoing laughter washes over them all, and the Distortion doesn't even have the decency to flinch when they turn to glare at her.

"Helen-" Melanie starts, but Gerry lays his free hand on top of her head, and she huffs, crossing her arms.

"You're all really bad at this," Gerry observes.

"Oh, sure. Am I supposed to believe you and Gertrude had a healthy communication, and you ended in a book on accident?" Basira snaps. Gerry's hand flinches on his shoulder and Jon bristles, suddenly furious.

She can lob any and all accusations at Jon, he's earned her mistrust; but Gerry's just trying to help, and he won't allow-

"Jon." Daisy says simply. "The quiet."

It's only then that Jon realizes the static around them is almost deafening, and Gerry's grip has become bruising. Jon's body's pulled taut like a violin string, and his head aches like it will split, as he tries to focus on Daisy's words. Right. The- fighting won't fix anything, especially when Jon has the sneaking suspicion that he has the upper hand in here.

"Right." Jon says.

"Right." Gerry repeats, squeezing his shoulder once before softening his grip. "Yes, Gertrude lied to me. Look at how she ended. Look at how I ended. This is exactly what Elias wants, for you to be at each other's throat so he can go ahead with whatever it is he's planning."

"Don't think too much about it." Melanie mutters, and Jon feels a sudden wave of warmth for her, when she gives Gerry a worried frown.

"I'm not. Just... you don't have to like each other, or trust each other." Gerry trudges on. "But you have to work together, and you have to stop keeping secrets from each other. It's the only way."

It's... quiet, after his words.

Of course this would come from the man that gave so much for the cause that he ended up a shadow of himself

Eventually, Melanie scoffs, looking up at Gerry. "Some secrets, please?"

Gerry snorts. "Okay. Some secrets, if you're weak." He takes Melanie's punch to the ribs without flinching. "What is this about?"

"A ritual, apparently," Daisy mutters, giving Basira another, subtler worried look.

Gerry nods. "And where is it happening?"

"Ny-Alesünd," Basira and Jon say at the same time, and the static comes back for the briefest of moments.

"...Well count me out of that particular road trip, I have things to do here." Melanie cracks her neck, shaking Gerry's hand off her head. "But I'll, you know, keep the fort safe. Keep an eye on Martin. Which reminds me, shouldn't someone tell Martin?"

Gerry lets out something between a groan and a sigh. "I'll do that. You need someone with good reflexes, with his new guard dog."

Jon closes his eyes, tapping lightly at the pool of Knowledge behind the cracked door in his mind, until he finds the particular thoughts he's looking for. "Tim is actually going to go get them some food in about ten minutes, so if you'd like to wait, you're welcome at my office."

"I'd like that." He can hear Gerry's smile in his voice, but even that doesn't prepare him for the sight of it aimed down at him when he opens his eyes again, and warmth coils at the bottom of his stomach like a pleased cat under the sun.

"I'm out." Melanie groans somewhere behind Gerry, and gives his side another punch before stomping away.

Jon darts a look at Basira and Daisy, who seem to be having a whispered conversation of their own, before he reaches to grab Gerry's hand and pull at him. He comes easily, like a smile after a kiss, and Jon leads them back to his office, where something primal and monstrous whispers 'safe' at the back of his mind.

"You can take a seat, if you want." Jon gestures to the chair before his desk.

"I don't think I do, actually." Gerry leans a forearm on the wall above Jon's head, and bends to rest his forehead against Jon's.

"Are you coming with us? Up north," Jon asks, trying to ignore how everything in him is yearning for Gerry's mouth like a sinner longs for absolution.

This is still new and unknown, but Jon's learned pretty fast that Gerry enjoys teasing him, leaning in just enough that they could kiss if Jon pulled him down. Jon for his part, enjoys not giving into that. It works about fifty percent of the time, but they always do end up kissing.

"I told you." Gerry whispers against him, close enough that Jon feels the silvery ring graze against his lower lip. "You're not going into any more entities without me. Should've thought about your vacation plans before adopting a revenant."

Jon snorts, and leans up to plant a kiss on the corner of Gerry's lips. That's one lost battle, but he doesn't feel too bad. "I knew feeding you that one time was a bad idea."

Gerry kisses him back slowly, like he doesn't want to be done anytime soon, and Jon hooks an arm over the back of his neck to bring them closer together. Stopping a second apocalypse doesn't sound too bad or scary right now, not with Gerry in his arms and the promise of Martin in his mind.

"It's been ten minutes," Jon whispers, parting from the kiss slow and unwillingly, like waking up early in the morning. "Tim's gone now."

"Hm... I should go talk to Martin."

"You should." Jon exhales slowly, as Gerry pulls back from him. He's smiling, and Jon feels like he will burst, because this man that's suffered so much is happy to be here with him and he feels like he doesn't deserve how relieved that makes him.

"I'll go tell your crush you all decided to play nice, then." A spark of something mischievous gleams in Gerry's eyes,almost as thrilling as the kiss itself, and Jon prepares a long-suffering sigh- "Should I give him one of these from you? Just in case he misses you." -which promptly catches in his throat and comes out in a flustered cough.

"Get out of here!" Jon pushes at his shoulder, and Gerry cackles in delight as he closes the office door behind him, leaving Jon alone, red-faced and juggling an armload of embarrassing and confusing thoughts.

[sazandorable]

Stoner!original!Elias, Martin, Basira on a roadtrip to stop Jonah!Jon, find&kill Daisy, and maybe save the world in the process. Can involve weed and/or tea.

(what the hell is this? iluonce again mag158 spoilers, as in speculation)

“Wow,” Martin says in a voice as flat as a comatose archivist’s electrocardiogram graph, “Daisy wasn’t kidding about you and your half-baked plans. Really gives me a lot of trust in our police force.”

The idiot in the backseat gasps. “You a cop?” he asks, wide-eyed in the rear-view mirror. He looks twenty years younger like this. Which is about right.

Through gritted teeth, Basira snarls: “Not anymore.”

“Oooh,” he mumbles, and then, incredibly, manages to make this day even worse by saying: “Hot.”

Basira slams down the brakes. The car jolts to a stop, Martin jolts against his safety belt, and the unbelted jerk’s empty head bangs into Martin’s seat. He howls, though sadly likely more in surprise than in pain. Basira twists back to glare at him straight-on and thunders: “We are literally on the way to find my girlfriend, what the fuck is wrong with you?!”

“Beyond the obvious?” Martin mutters quietly.

“Well, first off from what I gather you’re basically single right now anyway, second, y’know, that’s hot too,” says the shithead. “Girl-on-girl action, mmm!”

“Shut up! Give it up! I’m not into guys! And even if I were, what the hell do you think, you’re a balding stoner idiot, attractiveness zero!”

“Well that’s not quite,” Martin starts, and Basira will probably murder him too, at this point.

Elias Bouchard, The Real One™, pokes his head around Martin’s seat to give him a shit-eating grin and a waggle of his eyebrows. With every minute that passes, Basira regrets a little more not poking out her eyes after all.

“Oh, are you into guys?” he asks. “Cause I’m flexible. Also literally! Or I used to be, at least? No idea what my creepy bodysnatcher’s been up to with my body! Wow, that sounds kinky.”

“I mean, I’m not into —” Martin marks a horrible, horrible pause, and then he croaks: “Oh God, I am into idiots.”

Elias cackles in delight and that’s not very different from the usual.

Basira closes her eyes and turns back to the steering wheel, squeezes it until her knuckles hurt. “Lord, give me strength.”

“And religious? Damn, gurl, you sure you not—”

“If you don’t shut up right now I’m leaving you on the side of the road.”

“Okay, Mum.”

She wants to snap that he’s older than she is, but then again, not really, and whatever anyway, it’s not like she cares. She’s got much, much more important things to focus on.

She thinks of Daisy and restarts the car.

Ten miles in, Elias-or-whatever starts humming an endless and melody-less tune under his breath, but at least Martin is silent.

She stops at a rest area for the night. She’s used to uncomfortable stakeout nights in the car, but none of them have involved some traumatised addict twitching in his sleep in the backseat and waking them all up before dawn with a blood-curdling scream. She stomps out to get a coffee at the tiny gas station store while he calms down.

Two coffees.

Martin eventually joins her about an hour later, pale and frail like the steam curling up from his crappy paper teacup. “He didn’t mean to,” he says, quietly.

Basira blinks, exhausted. “I don’t care.”

Martin’s eyes are on his cup as he slowly stirs the tea around like it’ll improve the taste. “Sleep paralysis, I think,” he continues. “He felt trapped in his own body, so he thought. You know.”

“That’s very sad. I… don’t care.”

He frowns at his teacup, sullenly. “He panicked. I agree he’s annoying, but he’s in a bad place too, okay? He’s lost over twenty years of his life, everyone he cared about. He doesn’t have anything or anyone left either.” His tea smells absolutely foul, Basira idly muses, until she realises it’s not the tea.

“Martin. Is that weed I’m smelling.”

Martin is a good liar, but Basira was a better cop. He freezes, guilty as charged.

“What the —— Where and when the fuck did he get his hands on weed?!”

Martin shrugs. “He found someone at the gas station. You did leave us alone for like an hour.”

“Did you smoke weed with him?! Why would you do that?!”

“I normally wouldn’t, but,” he shrugs again, “it was. Warm? It felt nice. Helped a little.”

Which is about how he’s got the whole Lonely avatar thing still sticking to him, mostly, but aside from that, Basira knows how he’s feeling. Literally, they are both chasing the lost and monstrous-warped loves of their respective lives to try and stop them. Even though he’s still adamant that there must be a way to save Jon and get him back, while Basira has accepted that there’s no way out for Daisy anymore and all she can do is put her down as promised — she understands. She would have sympathy for Martin. Except she looks at him, his tangled hair and his avoidant eyes and how he’s distractedly biting at his bottom lip and forgetting about the tea cooling between his cold cold lonely hands, and dread slowly seizes her heart like ice.

“Martin.”

“Hm?”

“Martin, tell me you didn’t make out with Elias.”

Martin’s mouth pinches and he says, “Look, he’s very lonely,” which makes Basira wish for ear-bleach.

[wolffupdates]

Alex Wolff on 'Castle in the Ground,' Producing a Movie with Nicolas Cage and His 'Jumanji' Future

The actor also reveals the text his friend Cage sent him about playing Joe Exotic.

[This story contains spoilers for Castle in the Ground.]

At 22, Alex Wolff has already had a full 16-year career in Hollywood. From his supernatural horror hit, Hereditary, to his expanding role in the Jumanji franchise, Wolff has even written and directed his own film, The Cat and the Moon. Wolff’s latest role as Henry in Castle in the Ground checks another box that is consistent with most acclaimed actors as his grieving, opioid-addicted character required dramatic weight loss. Since he was already quite lean, losing 30 pounds took its toll on the New York native.

“I only had a couple weeks before I started shooting. I know that [my diet] just didn’t turn out very well, and it turned out to be super unhealthy at the end of it,” Wolff tells The Hollywood Reporter. “I had a lot of problems, but I’ve now found out since then that there’s some totally better, more healthy ways that you can do it. And a can of tuna and an apple is not that.”

At the end of 2019, Wolff wrapped production on Michael Sarnoski’s Pig, and the experience went so well that he’s already collaborating with one of his co-stars on another project. That co-star happens to be one Nicolas Cage.

“I have a movie that I’m going to direct that I wrote and I’m really, really excited about it. And without spoiling too much, Nic is actually producing it with me,” Wolff shares. “I’m going to be starring in it… But yeah, I’d say it’s a character drama with elements of thriller. It’s definitely a psychological drama.”

In a conversation with THR, Wolff discusses Castle in the Ground’s impact on him, his Jumanji future and the text exchange he had with Cage regarding Cage’s new role as Joe Exotic.

You lost 30 pounds for Castle in the Ground. Did you subscribe to Christian Bale’s Machinist diet of one apple and one can of tuna per day?

Oh God. Yeah, I’ve heard of that. I’ve heard of a lot of different diets. I mean, mine was really interesting because I only had a couple weeks before I started shooting. It was like two or two-and-a-half weeks. I know that mine just didn’t turn out very well, and it turned out to be super unhealthy at the end of it. I had a lot of problems, but I’ve now found out since then that there’s some totally better, more healthy ways that you can do it. And a can of tuna and an apple is not that. (Laughs.)

Does a character like Henry ever frighten you to the point of being more cautious in your own life?

Interesting. I think more than anything, it really made me have empathy for people who make bad decisions. More than make me not make bad decisions, it makes me have more empathy for the people who make these kinds of decisions with addiction and everything. I see them more humanly.

As Henry showed, one wrong choice can create a ripple effect that has complete control over you.

Yeah, it just seems like this kind of thing happens so quickly. That’s the scariest part of the whole thing. This can happen so quickly once you start dipping your toe in this pool of these drugs and this kind of lifestyle. You just get completely sucked in, swept up, chewed up and spit out.

When your characters go through a difficult experience and you have to play those feelings and emotions that come with the territory, has that ever prepared you, to some degree, for a similar experience in real life?

I think it’s more the opposite. I mean, there are certain eerie times when life imitates art, but it’s more that my life experience becomes applicable to certain movies and characters. I can do some transference, but I don’t really think that anything that I’ve done in a movie has prepared me for anything in life. What I’ve done in movies has been a collection of my own experience.

I loved the voicemail scene between you and Imogen (Poots). Did you guys rehearse that scene since the timing is so precise and comedic?

I love that scene. We didn’t do much rehearsal in this movie at all. It was pretty guerilla warfare. (Laughs.) We could just go for it. So, we may have run through it a few times, but really, the rehearsal was us just kind of figuring it out as it goes along.

At first, I thought Henry was angling for a romantic relationship with Imogen’s character, Ana, but then I quickly realized that he wanted to transfer the caregiving of his mother (Neve Campbell) onto someone else who was sick in her own way. Do you also think he was dependent on caring for a sick person, as opposed to some romantic fixation?

Maybe he had a crush or something, but I think it’s kind of deeper. He needed anything. He needed anything from her — whether it was romantic or to just be around her, I think he just needed somebody in his life to fill the void of his mom. I don’t think it’s as simple and as clean-cut as her replacing his mom, but I think it’s just that he needs something. He needs some family.

[This next question contains spoilers for Castle in the Ground’s ending.]

The movie ends on an ambiguous, full-circle moment, but given the unforgiving and relentless nature of the opioid crisis, I think history repeated itself in Henry’s mom’s bedroom. Was that your interpretation as well?

Well, I almost want to keep the end a secret for people who haven’t seen it. So, I kind of want that to be one of these big surprises. But I think you’re right. I mean, I’m thinking about it, but I think you’re right. He kind of gives into it eventually. I think he protests, but he lets her do it. I think it’s this moment where, yeah, it’s like history repeating itself. It’s like a prophecy or premonition that he’s going to end up doing it. I kind of want people going in, thinking that it’s going to go a different direction or thinking that it’s going to all come up daisies. You think it’s going to go that way, and then, I think it’s important that it’s like “nope.” It should end super hopeless and punishing because that’s how this actually ends. This is how these drugs usually end.

I loved how aggressively blunt Henry could be at times. He was pretty reserved for the most part, but he did not hold back when it came to Ana’s friends. For example, Tom Cullen’s character said to him, “You seem like a good kid,” and Henry responded, “Thanks, I kind of thought you were a piece of shit...”

(Laughs.) Yeah, I think it’s his only way of survival. I think he is shy, and I love that too. That was really a good element in the script, and I think we worked on beefing that up a little bit. He’s like a little boy, and I think little boys are like that sometimes. They put on a front of toughing it out, hence “I kind of thought you were a piece of shit...” But I think it’s also his way of giving and receiving love. I think it’s how he and Ana bond. I think it’s just his way of connecting.

Henry’s girlfriend, Rachel (Star Slade), had her own life while he was taking care of his mother. She was also going off to school soon. Was Henry’s decision to break up with her partially inspired by the fact that she didn’t need him as much as his mother or Ana did?

That’s interesting. That’s a really good question, but I didn’t see it that way. Maybe to a certain degree, but I would say that instead of her being more independent, I think it was about the fact that she was almost too good for him at a time when he couldn’t handle it. He couldn’t handle any kind of positive thing in his life. He wanted to be miserable. He wanted to follow the danger and follow his id, not what was healthy for him.

You started acting at six years old. Once you became old enough to make your own choices, did you ever sit down and assess whether you wanted to keep acting or not? Obviously, you made the right call, but sometimes, we hold on to things just because they’re all we’ve ever known.

I think about quitting acting every single day. I have a very love-hate relationship with it. The second I start a movie or when I’m not good in a scene, I’m like, “Fuck, I don’t want to do this anymore. This is hard.” You have to, in equal measure, be completely in love with it and need to do it. It feels like a need. It feels super deep and heartfelt.

Given the sad state of the world, have you done a screen test or chemistry read with another actor yet via Zoom?

Yeah, I’ve done a bunch of monologues and stuff with people, which has been really fun. I’ve been writing monologues and sending them to my friends, and I think that’s been really good. I’ve done some play readings on Zoom, but it’s not the same. It’s not great, but it’s okay. It’s better than nothing. The lag time is better than I actually expected, but it’s just still not perfect. It just isn’t.

You were an uncredited partygoer in Cory Finley’s Thoroughbreds, and you just had a supporting role in his latest film, Bad Education, which is excellent. Clearly, Cory felt guilty over the size of your Thoroughbreds part, right?

(Laughs.) He better have! He better feel guilty. No, I was shooting Patriots Day like an hour away from where they were shooting Thoroughbreds, and I knew the producer. So, I came just to hang out, and they just threw me in there, which was fun. But yeah, he’d better feel guilty for not giving me a bigger part. (Laughs.)

In Bad Education, I was quite fond of your outburst after Geraldine Viswanathan’s character pressures your character to publish her exposé, but he’s torn because of his recommendation letter from Hugh Jackman’s character.

That was kind of a fun day because Cory doesn’t usually have people improvising, but I kind of just went for it.

Jumanji: The Next Level left things in a very tantalizing place as the Jumanji game world has returned to the real world a la the original Robin Williams movie. Are you intrigued by the possibility of your real-life characters acting alongside the avatar characters for a change?

Oh my God, yeah. That better happen. That would be so amazing. I want that. Yeah, I think it would be full circle. To come back to the real world.

I think you just came up with the title.

Jumanji: Full Circle? Yeah, it better be that. Jumanji: Full Circle, I like that. The idea of all the kids, The Rock, Danny DeVito, Danny Glover and everybody else in the real world makes me so unbelievably excited.

Recently, your name was on a very exciting list of actors in connection with a new movie from one of my favorite filmmakers, M. Night Shyamalan. Can you say anything about this?

(Wolff imitates static noise.) We’re going through a tunnel actually. Sorry, I’m going through a tunnel right now. There’s a tunnel in my house. Can you hear that? (Laughs.)

You’ve heard this quite a bit, but Hereditary’s car accident scene is one of the most disturbing scenes I’ve ever seen. Oftentimes, when the cast and crew know they have to shoot something dark like that, they find ways to keep the set as light as possible. Was that the case that day?

No, actually. That was not the case. For me, sometimes if they’re trying to make it too light, it’s kind of distracting. So, I sometimes have to just stay in the zone. I kind of just was wearing my headphones and trying to stay in the spirit of it. I think it’s sometimes too hard to completely jump in and out.

Did that scene mess with your head for a little while after shooting it? No pun intended.

(Laughs.) I think it did mess with my head in the moment. I think the whole movie was kind of difficult. It kind of stuck with me. I think that scene in particular definitely stuck with me at least for a few days. But I think that movie was like a constant attention-taker. I think it haunted me for a while.

This is a shameless question, but have you texted your friend Nic Cage about his brand-new role as Joe Exotic [of Tiger King fame]?

Of course, I have. Of course, I have. I said, “Are you playing Joe Exotic?” and he texted me back (Wolff imitates Cage.) “You bet your ass I am.”

It’s perfect casting.

When I first saw it, I said the only person who could possibly play him in a fictional world is Nic. I just feel like that guy is so larger than life, and anybody else would not be able to go there. Nic is the only person who can go there, I think.

Are you itching to direct again?

Yeah, man. I have a movie that I’m going to direct that I wrote and I’m really, really excited about it. And without spoiling too much, Nic is actually producing it with me. Yeah, I’m really excited about it.

Can you reveal the genre yet?

I would say it’s a character drama, and I’m going to be starring in it. I’m really excited about it. But yeah, I’d say it’s a character drama with elements of thriller. It’s definitely a psychological drama.

***

Castle in the Ground is now available on Digital HD and VOD.

[centaurianthropology]

The Magnus Archives Season 4 Binge-a-thon (Contains spoilers through the finale)

I’m back!  Life and work have been crazy, but I really wanted to binge the half-season since I last listened in order to get in on the season finale.  It’s been quite the experience.  The last time I binged TMA was season 1, since I started listening at the beginning of season 2.  I had really wondered which way was better listening: twenty minutes every week, having things play out gradually, or in one huge go.

I have to say, things flow really well as one run-through binge.  I couldn’t say I hands-down prefer doing it this way, but that the structure really holds up as a binge.  Plus, the evolving storyline begins to run at a less gradual pace.  The build-up of tension is strong, and I really ended up enjoying my binge.  

I think part of the danger of listening to each week is that you get lost in the minutia.  It lets you pick over everything, which can be great, but it can also be frustrating.  The character choices are that much more maddening when you have to wait a week to see how things turn out (and one character in particular in this latter half of season 4 I found particularly frustrating, so I think that listening week by week to that would have been a challenge).  

I figured I’d go through some thoughts on the episodes, starting with where I left off at ‘Decrypted’ and going from there.  I’ll be talking about episodes in little chunks as I go, with random comments in each section:

Decrypted, Infectious Doubts, Threshold

It’s interesting how much the Lonely was infecting the whole Institute at this stage in the story, although during these episodes it seemed like everyone hadn’t quite noticed it.  Or they’d gotten so used to it during Jon’s coma that they stopped noticing how bad things were getting.  

Listening now, it seems like Basira got hit the hardest, and that combines with the fact that she also seems to notice it the least.  While in season 3 she was the level-headed one, here she’s trying to take that level-headedness too far.  She wants all the answers so she can make the best decisions, but she refuses to wait for answers, and she refuses to acknowledge that those answers might be complicated.

The Lonely may also be the explanation for her detachment.  As in the plot as she is, she’s desperate to not engage emotionally with any of it.  Even Daisy seems to be held at arms-length, and Jon is labeled a monster without any unpacking of that term or what it would mean.  She also seems to refuse to address how close Jon and Daisy’s behaviors have been, at their worst, and that Jon is in the throes of his hunger, while Daisy was starved of hers forcibly.  She chooses to remain calm and chooses to work to overcome the Hunt, but her initial detox program was very much not of her own choosing.  She has simply chosen to stick to it, to embrace the good thing that came out of her imprisonment in the Buried.  Jon is struggling because he’s not being forcibly weaned, and no amount of Basira calling him a monster is going to prompt him to stop.  

I think that Basira, at this point, is perhaps the most blinkered of the characters.  She’s so focused on results that she refuses to do any sort of self-inventory.  She’s so convinced of her own rationality that she misses the places where she’s irrational: Jon has always been a semi-threat to her, so she can much more easily slide into thinking of him as a monster.  Daisy, on the other hand, was her partner; someone she trusted and cared about.  It’s much harder to look at someone you love and call them a monster.  She can see the shades of gray in Daisy, but it’s easier to ignore them in Jon.

As much as I think Basira likes to think of herself as the rational one, I think Melanie and Daisy fit that better at this point.  Both have passed through their own marking by one of the powers, and both have had their own time as monsters.  And that gives them both an outsider’s perspective on the situation, and an insider’s perspective.  And both had to be forcibly wrenched away from their respective powers.  As much as Melanie resents being torn away against her will, without any say in how it happened, she now has the perspective to look at Jon’s monstrousness as both something very not good, but something complicated.  Her own feelings toward Jon are complicated.  He helped her, but he took away her free will to do it.  He’s a monster, but so was she.  

Daisy is even further along that path of understanding, having been given a LOT of time to think in the Buried about herself and her choices.  She understands far more than Melanie, and far far more than Basira how the lines between monster and personal choice blur until there is no hard line between them.  She has to own all her choices, because she may have been deep in the hunt, but being chosen by a power often happens because you love it as much as you fear it.  With perspective, she knows that her choices were awful.  That she was awful.  But in that moment, she chose the Hunt every time.

She wants to help Jon and Martin, but also knows that people need to want her help before it can really be given.  I think that’s why she left as soon as Martin told her to go.  If he wanted to reject her help, she couldn’t stop him.

Melanie is also embracing perspective, choosing to go to therapy.  Choosing to make herself better.  If she’s doing that, her demand that Jon also do better carries more weight.  He’s not yet wrenched free, but he like Daisy still has choices to make.  They’re just a lot harder when he’s inside looking out.

Jon, of course, is deep into his own monsterhood, his guilt, and his isolation.  The guilt is keeping him at least a little grounded, but the isolation is definitely not helping him not become a monster.  People overcoming addiction have to make the choice themselves, yes, but they also need support.  They need people to hold them accountable, but also know what they’ve been through so genuinely useful advice can be given.  Confronting Jon was necessary to prevent him descending further, but I feel like Daisy’s understanding and Melanie’s therapy probably helped more than Basira’s “You’re a monster; don’t eat people” statement.  

Martin wasn’t in any of these episodes, but he continues to reach out in ways that keep him at as much of an emotional arm’s length as Basira, simply without any of the confrontation.  He gave the tape to Daisy and the others after he found out about Jon feeding on people, but didn’t confront him himself.  He’s avoiding all contact with people, making it ‘easier’.  He may have a plan, but he’s also deeply infected by the Lonely.  Like Basira, I wonder if he has much perspective on himself.  They both think they’re playing things smart, but they both seem to be missing glaring parts of the world closing in around them.

Weaver, Extended Surveillance, Concrete Jungle

Jon’s addiction is tied into desire, and also into terror, and also it’s as much a choice as it is for people addicted to drugs to take their next hit.  They do know it’s not good for them, but they make the choice, because it feels good, because they love it as much as they hate it.  And that analogy, in spite of never being directly brought up in these  episodes, continues to be driven home by the statements he reads.  A relationship with an addiction is complicated, and is often used as a substitute for something else initially.  How much of Jon’s embracing of the Eye was originally driven by his terror of the Web, deep seated and still child-like?  I think he fears Annabel Caine more than any other avatar, because she strikes at his worst fear: to be manipulated, to be pushed back to his childhood helplessness, to be lured and consumed against his will.  Isn’t it better, from his perspective, to be consumed by his will, by a power he knows and in many ways loves?

One thing I’ve noticed is that the people who are servants of powers embrace those powers as much as they fear them.  It’s not a new revelation to say that Jude Perry loves the Desolation, or that Jane Prentiss both loved and feared the Corruption.  But seeing that in Jon is harder, because he has something that they seemed to lack: moral qualms about what he’s doing.  He can acknowledge that the Beholding is as bad as any of the others, but how much of that is an intellectual acknowledgement?  How much of him revels in the Knowing in a way in the same way Jane reveled in the song of the hive?

But of course, in his isolation, he’s struggling to hold onto those intellectual moral qualms, when the hunger is so strong.  He can recognize the justifications for harm in other monsters, and even in himself, but his recognition isn’t the visceral pull that the hunger is.  And with a very rickety support system, it feels almost inevitable that he’ll tip over and feed again.  His one saving grace right now seems to be that his skill at analysis is just as powerful when turned against himself as it is when it’s turned outside.  He knows he’s slipping.  He knows that he no longer cares as much about investigation, about the victims of statements, as he does getting his next story, his next hit.  And no amount of admonishment is going to stop that craving.  

The other thing that seems to keep him anchored is Martin, but that’s an anchor growing more and more distant, closer to his intellectual understanding and further away from the deep-seated emotional attachment that might be enough to overcome the hunger.  Jon is continually concerned about Martin, wondering how he is to anyone who will listen.  I think of Gertrude being Agnes’ anchor, both holding one another to the world.  That was done to them, but I have to wonder if Martin and Jon have started anchoring one another simply through affinity.  Martin is trying to cut off all ties, but he keeps looking out for Jon.  He can’t help but try to keep Jon good and as human as possible.

The conversation between Georgie and Martin was interesting.  Georgie has chosen to help Melanie because Melanie isn’t as deep in it as Jon, and because Melanie is actively seeking therapy and help.  Georgie seems firmly in the camp that she’s willing to help, but will only help those actively helping themselves.  And I get that.  She is an outsider reaching in.  And she needs to protect herself as well; she’s right that tying oneself to Jon is probably going to get one killed.  She’s not obliged to die for him, or for anyone.  And from her perspective, he isn’t even reaching for the ropes being thrown to him.  

Contrast that with Martin’s perspective, which is that Jon needs help, and that waiting until he helps himself could be disastrous.  This is also right, but the problem is that if Jon is drowning, Martin isn’t really getting in the water any more than Georgie is.  He’s avoiding Jon, but is offended that Georgie is doing the same.  I can only hope she held up a mirror to his own decisions.  He’s choosing to protect himself every bit as much as he’s ‘falling on the grenade’ in order to try and stop the Extinction.  And trying to protect Jon from afar is as much a defense of himself as what Georgie is doing.  Both are reasonable.  Jon is self-destructing.  But Martin was also right that he needs help.  And for someone to help Jon, they almost certainly have to wade into all the danger that being around him entail.  Georgie’s decision not to be that person is frankly the healthier decision.  No one owes anyone drowning with them.  But that’s a decision each person has to make: how much are they willing to help?  How much of a life-line do they throw?  Georgie has helped, but also protects herself and respects Melanie for doing the same.  Daisy is helping a decent amount because she’s been there, and with a few bad days she could end up right back where Jon is.  It’s why people with addictions are often the ones to help others with addiction.  You sort of have to understand it from the inside.

Martin doesn’t know he understands it from the inside, because he doesn’t realize how much he’s falling to the Lonely.  Disappearing whenever personal confrontation occurs isn’t healthy.  He was an open wound of caring and emotion before, so it’s understandable that he’s swinging the pendulum to be less vulnerable, but he’s swung it too hard, and he’s drifting away.  And as much as he wants to help Jon, he’s not.  If he really wants to be Jon’s anchor, he has to be willing to open up all his emotional wounds again.  And he has to make that hard decision knowing how much it could cost him.  Or he has to let go entirely.  He’s in limbo, Jon anchoring him, but the tie between them is frayed.

‘Cul-de-Sac’ offered up a way to take hold of that tie and make it strong again.  The Lonely very nearly claimed the narrator as a victim, but in the moment he was almost totally lost to it, a call from his husband and the words “I love you” brought him back.  It gave him a way out, and as much as he believes he has to trust Martin’s decisions regarding his work with the Lonely, he also knows that the Lonely is seductive, that it has you do its work for it, that Martin is plagued with self-doubt and self-esteem issues, and that the Lonely is feeding on that.  Jon is trying to trust, but Jon also needs to reach out and help, just as much as Martin needs to do the same, if they both choose to take that route.

Basira has also apparently not made any real choice regarding whether or not she’ll help Jon.  She continues to be around Jon, but isn’t helping.  She’s very intelligent, but increasingly … black-and-white, which makes her blinkered.  And Elias was right: it also is making her predictable.  It’s like she’s trying to be more like Daisy as Daisy becomes more like Basira used to be.  But her taking a harsh tone with Jon and telling him ‘just don’t do it’ is likely to go exactly as well as everyone who’s ever told a drug addict to just stop.  Stopping is usually the hardest thing an addict ever has to do, and increasingly, Basira seems to want things to just happen.  If Daisy has learned patience, Basira has lost hers.  And that means that she also seems like she’s lost perspective.

And then there’s Melanie.  I really like that Melanie is sort of taking the middle-road of Georgie’s approach and Daisy’s.  She’s stuck there, and she’s still interacting with Jon.  Hell, her reactions to him pulling facts out of the ether are more like frustrated rolling of eyes than genuine anger at this point.  But she’s also unapologetic that helping the Eye—whether it be passively or actively—is wrong.  For her own good, she’s opting out.  She knows she could get sick.  She knows she could die.  But she is making a choice.  And like Georgie, I can respect that choice.  

Elias continues to be an evil delight.  Seriously, what a fantastic villain.  He gloats, he’s gleeful, but also urbane and intelligent.  The little moments of vulnerability sometimes feel like manipulation, so it’s hard to tell exactly how much he could be damaged.  He, of all people, seems to have taken Annabel’s advice to heart.  He is always either under- or overestimated.  And that just makes him fun.

Big Picture, A Gravedigger’s Envy, Love Bombing

Simoooon!!!  My favorite wacky wizard is just as much a delight as I had expected.  He’s a ton of fun.  He’s old and he’s full of joy, and he’s horrible.  He’s my favorite.  I also managed to predict that he was centuries old!  So pleased to find that out.  

It’s interesting to find out that so much of the rituals are bound up in the feeling and the fear.  All the ways the powers manifest or work are based on those feelings.  So rituals are made up because they ‘feel’ right, and it seems like they all fail because none of them genuinely generate the fear necessary to bring one power into ascendance over the others.  It seems that the balance is not only something most are dedicated to, but that it’s harder to upset on a global scale than people thought.  Robert Smirke, for example, seemed to think that the world was balanced on a knife’s edge, one second away from falling to a power.  And every fear took a cue from him and generated a ton of rituals.  But none of them have worked.  Because the truth definitely seems to be that none of them know what they’re doing.  They’re groping around for greater meaning, when it’s all really based on feelings and impressions.  That may make Simon one of the most effective avatars, as well as one of the most sanguine with the way the world works.  He’s not trying too hard to make the Vast win because he’s realized how difficult and potentially pointless that might be.

The end of ‘Big Picture’ has another confrontation between Basira and someone, this time Martin.  She’s taking the same tack with him as she did with Jon: telling him she doesn’t trust him, that he’s an idiot for working with Peter, etc.  Again, acting as Daisy might once have done, and again, I don’t see that she accomplished much.  She let Martin know that Jon’s heard of the Extinction, that he trusts Martin, and that’s about it.  Beyond that, they’re much in the same position.  Whatever her goals are in this situation, they’re either escaping me, or she has no real goals aside from being angry at everyone around her for not being as useful to her as she wants them to be.

Helen, on the other hand, is as helpful and delightful as Simon, while being just as dangerous and malicious.  She’s becoming more and more the Distortion, less an less Helen as she lets go of her guilt and embraces the feeding and the hunger.  She’s Jon’s ally, but is also unpredictable and is clearly playing her own game, learning the maze under the Archives, but refusing to let him in on what lies at its heart.  Their discussion about Jane Prentiss, about choice, throws more light on Jon’s choices.  

And the thing that sets him apart from the other monsters: his guilt, his burning humanity.  And his connection to others.  She looks at this as temporary.  Not the feelings, which may well persist, but the effect those feelings have had on his actions.  And I think that’s the hard truth that Basira has failed to impart as an outsider: Helen, as an insider to being a monster, gets that there is no hard line between the one-you-were and the one-you-are.  She gets that being a monster is as subjective as the powers or the rituals are.  It’s about feeling.  And Jon clings to his feelings and his connections.  And because of this he’s been finding excuses for his behavior.  But he still chooses it.  He knows that he shouldn’t want the drugs, but he keeps giving in to the temptation before the guilt spiral starts over again.  They all choose, and their choices may be guided by having no good alternatives, but the choice has always been his.  Of course he gets to keep what makes him fundamentally Jon, because Jon is the perfect Archivist.  He didn’t need personality traits grafted onto him.  They came ready made for the Eye.  How long had it waited for someone just like him?

But the thing about choice is that it’s yours.  Accepting that he makes the choices and that they are his alone means that he can control them.  He can take whatever control he can muster, even in the face of danger and death.  He can make the choice Melanie did, or a different choice.  He can choose to act, knowing that his actions are owned only by himself.  There’s power in that, every bit as much as there is responsibility.

And Daisy is the perfect example of that.  She doesn’t want to go back to the Hunt.  She’d die first, but she also will let that Hunt slip back in just a bit to protect Jon from Trevor and Julia.  Hearing her and Jon work through her impulses to listen to the blood, to find her way back to calm with his help, was one of the first indications that he really does get that choice.  And I find myself hoping that if he can help Daisy, he can learn to make those same choices, and that she’ll be there to guide him back when he needs it.

Bloody Mary, Cost of Living, Reflection

Jon going looking for knowledge the Eye didn’t want him to know was encouraging, and the revelation of Eric Delano’s page was a hell of a thing.  First, of course, there was James Wright (watching everyone through pictures and any eye available) before there was Elias, and Elias ‘changed’ a lot.  Another point for the Elias-is-Jonah theory, perhaps.

There was also the confrontation of Gertrude with a former assistant, how emotionally distant she was from him and the others, and how hungry she was for knowledge.  She wants explanations, not stories though.  More practical and less lyrical than Jon.  And less emotional.  Jon feels thing deeply and desperately.  It might be his salvation, as I’ve mentioned, but also it makes him just as human as her, despite his more outward monstrousness.

Eric was definitely in an abusive relationship with Mary, but after the betrayal and what Gertrude put him through, she seemed preferable.  And that’s thing, isn’t it?  Betrayal and under-handedness hurt worse than straightforward evil in the TMA world.  And so Eric accepted Mary and blinded himself to get out of the Institute, and wasn’t even too hurt that Mary turned right around and killed him for his sacrifice.  He found the way out because he had someone he loved: his son.  Much as tearing the bullet out of Melanie broke her free of the Slaughter, Eric tearing his eyes out let him free of the Beholding.

Could Jon help but entertain that fantasy?  Running away, tearing out the part of himself that is a monster once and for all?  No more hunger, no more temptation.  

But Martin’s right.  He can’t do it.  Because Jon is still choosing the Beholding, he still loves to Know.  He’s turning away from freedom actively.  And for Jon, running away with Martin was just this perfect potential ideal, but would never become reality without some really fundamental commitment that both of them lack right now.  As much as Jon is sunk in his love for what he knows, Martin is sunk in denial about how much he might actually mean to Jon.  He can reject Jon’s proposal easily, because he can’t believe Jon would ever really give up power just for a chance to run away with Martin.  

Martin is sunk deep, and Jon, who could reach him if he tried, isn’t trying.  Just as he isn’t tearing his eyes out.  He’ll be passive, and he’ll look at Martin like an ideal, but the real issue is that neither of them is reaching out to one another as a PERSON.  As more than the ideal that they’ve both seen one another as.  Being an anchor is all well and good, but eventually you need to dig in and get to know one another to have a true reason to stay human.  And they’re both lacking that right now.

Martin is drifting hard.  Realizing that he might only think he misses Jon’s voice, that he cares about Jon, that even his love is getting lost to the Lonely is very hard to hear.  Because Martin threw himself into all this to save Jon, and he’s not even horrified that he’s losing the original motivation for giving himself to the Lonely.  He seems to be going through the motions, letting everything happen, taking the easiest and least ‘noisy’ way out.  And that’s the draw of the Lonely right there, isn’t it?  There’s no real pain to lose yourself, because by the time you’re lost, you just don’t care.  Martin is being eaten by apathy, and that’s the hardest thing to shake.  He just doesn’t care enough to do it.

I really appreciate Jon finally confronting Basira about her hypocrisy.  The fact that she’s willing to give Daisy over to the Hunt to keep her alive, but is demanding that Jon starve himself to death if he has to is the height of hypocrisy.  It’s also deeply disrespectful of Daisy’s very difficult choice.  I appreciate that Jon stood up for Daisy’s stand, and I hope that it causes Basira to reflect about how she’s gone about her approach to Jon and Daisy.  

Because honestly, they’re both questioning their natures.  Daisy understands better, but Jon is actively exploring his nature, and the nature of monstrousness.  ‘Cost of Living’ is the perfect example of the entitled nature of a monster’s survival.  Each time she was confronted with their death, she found someone to exchange a life with.  And what was at first a one-off quickly became a continuous vampirism, one ‘unworthy’ life after another.  At each step she blamed the victim, explained her actions by the good she was doing.  Jon feels the same pull, but also a revulsion for her self-justification.  

And some people would rather do anything other than serve that sort of monstrousness.  Melanie gouged her own eyes out, leaving the Archives as definitively as possible.  I’ll miss the hell out of her character, but I am so glad that she found a way out.  I’m glad that, of all of them, she was the one who seized Eric’s solution.  Jon would never do it.  Basira won’t do it.  Martin won’t.  But Melanie still could.  She tried so hard to leave for so long that it’s fantastic she gets to go on her own terms.  And I’m so glad Jon respected her decision; that she left as bravely and calmly as possible for leaving by ambulance.  

Rotten Core, Panopticon

So Martin or someone else left his final tape to Jon.  Peter might have left it, Annabel could have done, so many others could have.  But the simple question is, what will Jon do with the information that Martin is walking off to oblivion?

Dekker’s final statement was something I wasn’t expecting.  It makes sense with the Extinction storyline gearing up, but it’s still strange to hear the end of this remarkable and remarkably eventful life.  And to go out in such a horrific way is tragic.  He searched for the Extinction so long, only to get taken down by the Corruption.  Just accidentally stumbled on John Amhurst, and though it’s good to know that Dekker properly contained Amhurst, it leaves his work unfinished.  But then, I think the work of people like Dekker or Gertrude always have unfinished business when they’re finally killed.  

Jon is not nearly so sanguine with death.  Hearing that the Extinction may be slow or strange or not real at all, he can’t not follow Martin down into the tunnels.  He tried to get a second opinion from Melanie, who is with Georgie—in all senses of the word—but she’s out.  He tried to go to Helen, who is not interested in helping because it entertains her more if he finds out what’s in the tunnels on his own.  She may think he’d just go home and give into his hunger, but the one thing that anchors him is in those tunnels.  So Jon is definitely going in.

At least he waited for Daisy and Basira, as much as it must have killed him not to go charging in.  And he’s lucky he did.  Peter Lukas set the Not-Them loose again, and Trevor and Julia are also back to finish Jon off.  And of course, Elias has also made a jail break to be there for the final show of whatever it was that Peter planned.

And it directly affects him, of course, because we finally got that confirmation: Elias Bouchard and Jonah Magnus are one in the same.  Jonah left his body behind in the Panopticon that lies at the heart of the labyrinth, permanently jacked into the All-Seeing Eye.  That was the Watcher’s Crown, attempted first as himself, and again in other bodies.  Peter wants to overthrow Elias, to replace him with a willing puppet in Martin.  The temptation of having that sort of power must have been undeniable.  

But it all still hinged on Martin choosing to serve the Lonely, to give himself freely to the Panipticon and to Peter’s power.  And Martin has been playing this game well.  Telling Peter what he wants to hear, all to see what his end-game was.  Listening to Peter and Elias duke it out verbally over him, Martin clearly knew that this was never about the Extinction.  This was just a stupid bet about whether or not Peter could steal Martin away.

So Martin refuses.  As much as he wanted to kill Jonah, he refused the game (but in so doing handed the victory to Jonah).   

The reason he knew that Peter wasn’t being straight with him about the Extinction was more than a little heart-breaking, but very in keeping with why he couldn’t believe Jon would really run away with him: Martin cannot believe that he’s important enough to be made a priority, let alone to be made a hero.  And so, even though Elias won the round, Peter had one more game to play: he threw Martin into the Lonely, and both he and Elias waited for Jon to arrive.  Because consuming the Archivist would certainly wrench the ultimate victory from Elias’ hands.  

But Elias is far too calm, and far too pleased with this turn for it not to be just as much set up in his favor as Peter’s.  He might have verbally warned Jon against going into the Lonely, but he was all too eager to show him the way.  This is just more of his game, and I’ll be interested to see how it plays out.

The Last

Which leads us to the penultimate episode of the season, Jon plunging into the Lonely after Martin.  The end-game of whatever bet or game Peter and Elias have been playing with one another turns out to have hinged on first Martin giving into the Lonely, and then Jon following him down.  Elias’ biggest pawn is on the line, and Peter has put himself on the line, letting something like the Archivist into his world.  

At first, Peter clearly has the home advantage over Jon.  He confronts Jon with the fact that he and Martin have been chasing the ideal of one another for so long, but they don’t really know one another.  But Jon is pissed, and Jon is hungry, and when faced with dying for Martin, he didn’t even hesitate.   Peter doesn’t understand love, or any connection.  And so he can’t understand how deeply tied Jon and Martin are to one another.  Hell, I don’t know if they quite understand it, except that they’d walk through hell to find one another.

So instead of giving in, Jon fakes his own drift into the Lonely to draw Peter in close, and then goes after him hardHearing Peter’s story was interesting, but not particularly sympathetic.  He was created to be a Lukas, certainly, but he also relished it and wallowed in the upper-class life he was given.  He wallowed in his loneliness, and hated everyone around him.  Sure, his family messed him up, but he embraced it while other siblings didn’t.  

So hearing that Gertrude took down his ritual with a call to a newspaper?  Amazing.  Wonderful.  Perhaps my favorite takedown of hers ever.  I laughed out loud at Peter Lukas drowning in community outreach.

And hearing Jon tear him apart?  Also amazing.  Potentially terrible, because once you open that door, it’s hard to close it, and Jon’s “Stubborn fool” is as close to truly being lost to the monster as we’ve heard Jon on tape.  But if Jon had to feed, tearing Peter apart wasn’t a bad way to do it.  But of course, that means Jon doesn’t get an answer as to how Elias gets him.  

But Jon does get Martin.  And that reunion?  The “I see you”?  So beautiful.  They’ve built to that moment for so long that the quiet conversation, walking out of the Lonely hand-in-hand and so gentle, was utter perfection.

Which is why having this be the second-to-last episode of the season is so ominous.

The Eye Opens

Here we come to the end, and we begin with domesticity and a continuation of the gentle quietness started last episode.  It seems, from the date of the statement, that Martin and Jon did get at least some time together before this episode to settle in and be together, and it shows.  There’s a comfort and a familiarity between them I’ve never heard.  Whatever time they’ve spent getting to know one another, they clearly fit together exactly as well as they’d hoped.

They may be on the run, uncertain if Trevor or Julia or the Not-Them are still alive, but it has an almost honeymoon feel to it.  They’re in contact with Basira, but seem distant from all that, here in their coccoon in the woods with its crackling fire and poetic cows.

And it’s really lovely.  Hearing them together, quiet and gentle and happy, was wrenching if only because it came so early in the episode.  And then it hits.  Jonah, smuggled in as a disguised statement, slipping in and taking over Jon’s body and forcing him to read against his will.  You can hear Jon struggling not to read at first, perhaps knowing what was coming, but Jonah’s will was too strong.  He’s too good at control to let Jon slip his noose here at the end.

And the end, as it turns out, is the end of the world.  It’s discarding the Watcher’s Crown as a botched job, and instead embracing a new ritual: the Magnus Archives.  The transformation of Jonathan Sims not into the Archivist, but into the Archive.  

And Jonah will become king of the ashes of a ruined world.

Jonah, Rayner, Lukas, and likely Fairchild all came together to become not only the first to realize that the world was almost guaranteed to end, but to figure out how to handle it.  Only Smirke kept to his guns and refused to embrace the end.  He tried to use balance to prevent it, to keep it from ever tipping over, but one by one the others embraced one power and decided that if the world was going to end, then it should end to their benefit.

Jonah tried the Watcher’s Crown, sitting in the Panopticon, but failed except to become a mind freed of his body.  He built the Institute to help himself with the race, trying the Watcher’s Crown again and again, each new body dying and giving rise to another.

And then he realized that the Watcher’s Crown was a flawed ritual from the off.  All the rituals were flawed.  All the rituals were doomed to failure, because every ritual only involved a single fear.  And so there wasn’t enough fear to keep it going.  Every one, even the ones not stopped, failed under its own weight.  

The true ritual was the Archive itself.  Turning a person into an Archive, and through him, with every other power burned into him, tearing open reality.  Because the true ritual HAD to have all the fears involved, because all fears are one fear, each blending into each, each reliant on another.  And so all powers had to come through at the same time, with the Eye watching over all.  

And Jon has been marked by every single fear, chosen by Magnus after he survived Mr. Spider.  Stabbed by Michael, burned by Jude, thrown into freefall by Mike Crewe, cut by the Slaughter when he tried to save Melanie, went into the Buried bodily to rescue Daisy … more and more and more until he went into the Lonely to save Martin and took the final step.  He consumed stories, consumed lives.  He embraced his own power in destroying Peter.  He chose to be the Archive at every turn, built himself as a record, wove a tapestry of every fear to create something greater than each alone.  

And so Magnus used his Archive.  He used Jon’s body and his power, and then left Jonathan Sims, both tied to and gutted by the world he created, behind as the world cracked open.  We finish the season with Jon and Martin, clutched together in their cabin, Jon knowing that the whole world has been consumed by the powers and by his own embrace of the Archive.  

“Look at the sky, Martin.  Look at the sky!  It’s looking back.”  

The Future

And so we head toward the final season of ‘The Magnus Archives’.  Daisy and Basira may both be alive, or Basira isn’t sharing the fact that she’s already killed Daisy as she promised.  Melanie and Georgie got out, but there’s not a lot of getting out of an apocalyptic world.

And the world is apocalyptic.  Jonah intends to sit the throne of this world, but I’ll be interested to hear if things go to his plan, of if the powers are so much larger than him that he is swept aside as every other living being will be.  This seems like the sort of plan born of hubris, from a man so desperate not to die that he’ll burn the whole world to survive it.  And I just don’t see fully manifested fears giving much of a shit about Jonah Magnus.

And that leaves Jon and Martin.  Jon is having a well-deserved breakdown over his part in this, but I don’t think he’ll get to do so for long.  If the Archive was needed to rip the world open, it may be the only way to repair it.  Whether that requires Jon to die, or Jon to lose every bit of Archivist in himself to do it, or something else entirely remains to be seen.  But he at least has Martin this time, and I genuinely hope that whatever path they walk in the final season, they walk it together.  That they fall together or rise together.  One or the other being alone at the end would be the worst possible outcome for them at this point.  They anchored one another in the Lonely, and they might well be the thing that pulls one another through to saving the world.  Going down together might be a sort of bittersweet happy ending for an Archive and the man that keeps him human.   What will the world be like now that all the powers are here?  Would people like Simon and the other avatar glory in this new world, or does a complete manifestation of all the powers make moot all the appeal of their gods?  I’m interested to find out who might be interested in a return to a normal world, and who love their new reality.  

40 more episodes until the end.  It’s been a hell of a binge, and honestly?  I’m very interested to see how thing play out come April.

[kpopisthereasonihavenolife]

Dandelion

BTS

Park Jimin/Reader [F]

Genre: College AU, Enemies->Friends->Lovers, Fluff

Warning(s?): Mentions of Drinking/Smoking, Jimin’s Tattoo

Words: 9.7k

Summary: Park Jimin was a hot topic name floating around campus on the daily.  Always seen with a girl at his hip with a different girl on his thigh just a few days later.  Rumor has it he’s never had a fling with one girl lasting longer than a week.  With your gossip-addicted best friend and his friendship with Jimin, Jimin comes to learn about you.  A week isn’t so hard sticking around one girl, the hardest part is when day 7 stars approaching. So, he decides he wants to make a wish instead. Wishing on a dandelion has to work. 

a/n: this is sloppy bc I did it all in one sitting and I apologize

“I heard Jimin broke up with his girlfriend!”  The first thing you were greeted with at lunchtime and it was your overly excited, sparkly-eyed best friend.  He was always the one to get any and all gossip he could just because he wanted to be part of the circle of gaudy gossip.  You could care less about half the bull that comes out of his mouth.

“And why would I care?  What, is it his longest lasting relationship or something.  Wow, 5 days with the same chick, whoop-dee-doo.”  You slid into a cafeteria, blue chair unloading the tray filled with two wrapped chicken sandwiches and a styrofoam bowl of strawberries.  

“Oh come on, you can’t deny that it’s odd.  There’s talk about him actually liking this one, maybe he’ll go back in for a double dip.”  

You gagged.  “Eugh, can’t you go and tatter off to your other friends?  I don’t wanna hear anything about Jimin’s sex life, Jackson.”

Jackson slumped over in the seat next to you as he sighed dramatically into the air. He would always act like you just kicked over a tower of legos he spent 4 hours building whenever you would blatantly refuse to care about his gossip. It was no surprise that Jackson knew all the haps of anything ever.  He was a people person, who knew everyone ever it seemed.

If you called some random number over in LA, you had no doubt if you mentioned Jackson, they would answer back ‘oh, yeah I know him!’.  He’s been everywhere and you were always curious as to why.  He wasn’t a homebody by any stretch.  

“I can’t talk to other people about his hips girl, all because they’ve all been with him before.  You- albeit- haven’t! So, I can talk to you about him with a clean slate honey.”

“That reasoning and your stupid use of pet names have no correlation of why I need to hear it and I’ve also revoked your drunk stay over privilege until next Monday.”

Jackson gapped at you.

“Your couch is my drunk home! Don’t evict me you, she-devil!” He whapped at your shoulder and swapped right back to the topic at hand.  “Besides, I’m his friend, why aren’t you?”

“Do you really have to ask?  He doesn’t know I exist for one and I’d like to keep it that way.  All he’s gonna do is try and wedge his half-dollar-coin-sized dick between my legs.”

“Sometimes, you really do need to get laid.”

“If you don't think I won’t knee him in the balls if he comes even within a 4-foot radius of me, you’re wrong.”

Sensing the conversation die, Jackson finally moved onto a different topic altogether.  Even if the topic shifted from Jimin, the conversation he yapped your off about how unsanitary the school campuses bathroom is, was still far from welcome.

Munching on your food, and nearly finished Jackson stopped his yammering when someone clapped his shoulder.  Looking over his shoulder, he busted out into laughter at the irony as you could see their figure in the corner of your eyes.  Only offering a small and short eyeroll.

Park Jimin stood behind Jackson, his hand on his hip with a pair of shades and a beanie on his blonde head. His leather jacket covered his yellow flannel that hid his white tee with his jeans that were ripped at the thigh.  His biker boots were worn and frankly needed some care to them.

You remain unbothered and silent as the two began to speak to another.

“I was told to pass along the message,” Jimin said as he held out a small scrap of folded paper.  Taking it with a pluck, Jackson flipped it open and scanned the words written along it.  

“Right on, right on. Whose place is this one at?”

“Jin’s setting us up.”  Jackson whistled with a smirk.

“Of course.  Mr. Connections, always pulling through.”

Jimin nodded, Seokjin always had connections.  Be it with a house to throw parties or what flower shop to go to when your little 3-year-old niece wants a bouquet of daisies for her birthday. He always had a go-to.  Perks of being a rich kid who knew any and everyone with the social skills to back you up.  You’ve even asked him once if he knew a place in town that sold old, used textbooks. He was cocky about it, but at least he gave you an answer and a promise to save some money.

“Friday at 8.  Don’t forget like last time and show up at 3 when everyone is already passed out or getting fucked in a room, yeah?” Jimin quipped with a smirk on his face.  Jackson only rolled his eyes as he swiveled around to you, shoving the paper in your face as you popped a strawberry in your mouth.

Reading the words in sloppy handwriting, it looked like a kindergartner wrote it.  It just showed a location, a time and date.  Probably all the for party that you assumed to two were fawning over.  You shifted your eyes to look over the paper into Jackson’s face.  A gleam in his eyes and a smile on his face.  Far too suspicious.

“Why am I looking at this?”

“You’ve gotta come with me!”  You rolled your eyes as slapped the top of his hand, making him retracted it and rub at the skin with a pout. “Rude,” he muttered.

“If you think I’d enjoy being in a loud, sweaty, drunken club with all your frat friends looking for a night less than 20$ and 5 shots, you really need to revoke your friendship with me. I’d rather stare directly into a high voltage flashlight for 2 hours and go blind, thanks.”

You popped another strawberry into your mouth as Jackson laid his head down on the table and looked at you.  Lips pouted and eyelashes fluttering like a damsel in distress.  

“Please?”

“Not happening.”

“Please?”

“No.”

“Please?”

“Jackson!”

“Okay okay,” he reasoned before he sat up and snapped his fingers.  A stupid plan forming in his head, you could feel it. “How about it’ll be a favor for me?  I’ll owe you one!” You sighed as you rubbed your forehead.  He was such a headache.  “Please, I won’t ask anything more for the rest of the month plus I’ll even owe you a favor.  Any favor, you know I'm down for anything.”

“So long as it doesn’t end up with you sitting in a holding cell?” You quipped with a smile as you remember back in high school he was running around town, causing all sorts of trouble with beer on his brain instead of logic.

“That was a long time ago! Let it die!” He whined.

As the two of you bickered, the both of you had failed to register Jimin still stood at the table.  Jimin knew a lot of the student body, even if the campus and college were diverse and huge.  Though, he hadn’t seen you before.  Arguing with Jackson about not wanting to come to a world-class frat party was amusing enough.  The fact that you seemed to know Jackson already, only made it better.  You probably had so much dirt on him it was laughable.

You seemed stubborn, probably annoyingly so.  He moved to rest his rear on the table top, lounging with one leg propped up as he watched you two.  He wasn’t needed here, he wasn’t required to stay and listen in on a conversation that had literally nothing to do with him.

Yet, he was intrigued all the same.  Then, you noticed him.

You peeked around Jackson as you threw the last strawberry from your bowl into your mouth, the red from the fruit staining your lips in a way he wanted to forget, but somehow knew he wouldn’t.  

“Can we help you?” You asked in a spiteful manner.  He lifted his hands in defense.

“Oh no, carry on.  This is fun,” he replied as you rolled your eyes.  “Besides,” he started again, “it’s just a party.  There’s nothing wrong with that.”  

“Some of us have other things to do believe it or not.  Maybe I’m not into alcohol, or maybe I’m just not a party person.  Ever think of that genius?”

He hissed in a playful manner, dramatically clutching his chest.  

“That stings.  And to think I was inviting you.”

“No, Jackson was inviting me.”

“But, I invited him.  So through correlation, I am the mastermind.”

“Oh my god,” you sighed as Jackson bit his lip in amusement. He knew Jimin had no idea who you were, yet he was chatting you up like you’ve been talking for a week.  “I don’t really want to take an invite from some rando guy who hops from girl to girl like frogs from lily pads.  Please shut up.”  

Before anything else, you looked at the watch face on your wrist and pushed out your chair.  Loading the tray with your trash and empty strawberry-stained bowl, you slung your bag over your shoulder. Jackson stood up as well, taking the tray from you as you huffed.  

“I’ll take your trash,” he kindly said.  It was suspicious once again, but you’d allow it.  “You’re going to work on your camera right?  Didn’t you get a new one?” You nodded.

“I did.  I was going to go back to the dorms and fiddle with it.  I don’t have another lecture until 4, so I can afford some practice photos.” He nodded.

“Make sure to take a photo of a dandelion and show it to me first!”

“What if I wanted to show my roommate?”

“You know she won’t be there.  She’s always out late.”

“You’re right,” you added with a playful smirk.  She worked late and after that, she always had something to do. It was a good night when she came sauntering into the dorm at 2 AM.  

“Go on, shoo you, little photographer, you.” You shook your head with a chuckle and began to walk off.  Swerving around chairs and people, you plugged your headphones into your phone and placed your sound muffling cuffs over your head and toned out the world.  Leaving the cafeteria, the school and then to the campus grounds.  

Jackson as he said, dealt with your trash as Jimin hopped up from his seat on the table top and meandered his way back through the cafeteria to his mob of friends.  All talking about one thing or another.  

All Jimin could think about as he drummed his fingers on his arms was how to convince you to come to the party on Friday. He had something he wanted to know about and, quite frankly, he felt like you inadvertently challenged him.  So, of course, he had to prove a point now.  

Having someone banging on your door Friday evening at 6 PM was something you surely didn’t want to deal with. Already cozy with one of your old hoodies and a pair of shorts with your hair a damp mess from your shower earlier on, you were lounging on your couch flipping through TV channels utterly bored.

Jackson had spammed you with text after text trying to convince you to come to the party.  He tried every bribe in the book, but you just would not yield.  You only assumed that Jackson was the one pounding down your dorm door, but when it didn’t stop and your phone never chimed with a text to let him in, you grew curious.  

Growing tired of the constant bangs that didn’t seem to stop anytime soon, you rolled off the couch and stomped to the door, swinging it open without even peeking through the peephole who is inside.  Ready to be met with your best friend's face, yet not so.

“What the hell?” You whispered to yourself.  There, in front of you and your dorm room who just shoved his way past your shoulder to saunter inside was Park Jimin himself. “Um, excuse me?”

He, with his hands shoved into the pockets of his mint green windbreaker, turned to you with his tousled blonde hair and dark eyes.  “Yes?”

“Get the hell out?” You questioned as you motioned to the door.  He untucked his hands as he cupped his chin and puckered his mouth and crinkled his chin in a false thought motion.  He was already trying your patience.

“I think I’m good. Thanks for the offer though!” You groaned as you begrudgingly shut your door, glad for once that your roommate never comes back until way later than 6PM.  When you waltzed back into your living room, Jimin had made himself comfortable on your couch with your TV remote like he lived here.  You were offended, obviously so.

You stood in the doorway of the room as Jimin waved you over as you took skeptic steps towards him and sat on the far end of the couch.  Clear away from his grabby fingers that probably need a sanitize or two.

“I don’t bite you know,” he chuckled as he dug his phone from his pocket.  He opened his messages and you watched his thumbs drum away on the screen.  Messaging, hitting send, opening a new conversation and repeat.  How many friends did he have?  “We’ll leave in an hour.”  He said without batting an eye.

“Excuse me?”

“Jin’s party? We’re going.” Who did this man think he is?!

“Says who?!  I’m not going, I’m pretty sure I made that obvious before. You were eavesdropping so you know this mind you.”

“I wasn’t eavesdropping, I was just listening.  It’s not like I was hiding behind a wall and listening in while you and Jackson bitch back and forth.  Which is funny, by the by.” He dropped his phone into his lap as he hiked his arm up on the back of the couch, looking at you, your knees pulled to your chest with your feet on the couch cushion.  “You’re actually quite cute.”

You quickly jumped up and sat perched on the arm of your couch, pointing a finger at him as you opened your mouth and furrowed your brows.

“Ah-ha! I knew it!”

“Knew what?”

“You’re just a sleazy, shady, horny college frat boy who is just following me around because you don’t know me!” Jimin offered an annoyed eye roll, his eyes sticking up to his eyelids before he looked back down with a snarky grin. “I’ve heard your resume from Jackson, and I know better than to throw myself at you.”

“Oh, so you know about me?  Well, that’s unfair as I know nothing about you.”

“In fact, come any closer and I’ll punch you in your stupid face.”  Jimin just shook his head as he huffed out through his slightly parted lips.  He watched as you sat perched on the arm of your couch like some sort of bird of prey, practically hissing at him. You had obviously heard all the rumors from Jackson, most of which are probably true.  Most.  Not all of them are true though, however, he won't deny that he couldn't count the numbers of girls he's 'dated' on his fingers and toes combined.

"You know, I'm not all that bad.  I'm not gonna just get you drunk and pull some cheap trick on you like some jock would." He slid his phone into his windbreaker pocket.  "How about we compromise."

"Sounds sketchy," you reply without missing a beat.

"Now, now, hear me out.  I can tell you don't like me much," you interrupted him with a sarcastic 'oh really' before he continued talking over you, "but I'm not so much as a horn dog as I am something willing to give someone something they want.  I'm not into sex if it's not consensual, so don't worry about me making any moves on you."  He spoke like he was being truthful, but you still weren't a hundred percent certain you could take his words at face value.  He sighed, "look, if you go with me, we don't have to stay the whole time," he tacked on.

"We? Makes it sound like you're expected me to tail you all night."

"Not exactly, I will be hanging around you though.  Jackson said parties aren't your scene, and I absolutely know that if you had the option, you'd be a wallflower all night." You squinted at him as you held your pinkie towards him.  He looked at it with ticked brows then back to you.  "And this is?"

"A pinkie finger," you answered.

"No shit genius, why are you sticking it in my face?"

"Oh please, it's like you don't know what a pinky promise is."  You rolled your eyes.  "I'll go to the stupid party if, and only if, you stick to your word and not abandon me to flounder on my own because I'm actually a big wimp and I will cry and I will cause a scene otherwise."

Jimin busted out laughing as he linked his pinky in yours.  Extending your thumb, you pressed it against the pad of his own and 'locked' in the promise.  Now he absolutely wasn't allowed to go back on his word.  Or else you'd probably throw a knife set at him.

Jimin shooed you off as you walked to your room, swaying and moaning the entire way before you shut it behind you.  So much for a boring, cozy night in.  For once, maybe you'd see your roommate if you weren't out all night.  You sighed as you sadly stripped out of your hoodie and shorts replacing them with skinny jeans with holey knees and a white shirt.  Fixing your messy hair and tying it back with a stretched out hair tie, you slipped on your worn out flats and grabbed your phone from the nightstand.

It was nothing glamorous, and you expected other girls to probably be dressed more... openly to put it nicely.  Though, you were only going because you were peer pressured into it, not to get laid and definitely not to get hit on.  If anyone even came close to you with a stupid, drunk pick up line, you're most likely to panic and flee the scene like you committed murder.

You sighed as you looked into your mirror.

"Why am I a pushover to some jerk who hardly knows me?"  Then, you gasped as you stomped your foot, finally registering that Jackson had blabbed to JImin about you. "That snake!!  I'm taking away his drunk couch privileges indefinitely!" All while Jimin sat on the couch in the living room, laughing to himself as you screamed at nothing and shot Jackson a text that you were coming with him to the party.

To say Jackson's reply back was overbearing was an understatement.  He acts like an idiot towards you, but the 'Don't you dare try anything with her, I swear to god,' text he received told him that the relationship you two have is more than just back and forth banter.

When Jimin's ears perked up at the sound of your door down the hall unlatching, he picked himself up off the couch and watched as you came back into the living room changed and much more party ready.  He let out a loud whistle as you adjusted your shirt, tucking it in and letting the boy see just the smallest sliver of your stomach and if he was being honest, it was more attractive than he thought it would be.

You were teasing him and you weren't even aware of it.  That was the most painful thing about you so far.  He cupped his chin as he looked at you.  Peeking up as you fumbled with getting your shirt just right, you caught him inspecting.

"What?" You bit.

"Something just seems, off?  Something is missing from this look."  He hummed as he walked around you.  The shirt was fine, the jeans were aesthetically pleasing and the small choker you hooked around your neck was a touch of college that worked wonderfully with the outfit in question.  He came back to your front as he scrunched his eyes and then shot them open with a snap and a small ah-ha moment. "I know! You need a jacket!"

"Why?"

"Because it's a staple in fashion to have a jacket with a look so simple.  Your shirt and jeans combo with a flare of the choker is appealing, but a jacket always seals the deal!  Or, if it's too hot than settle for a cardigan."

"What are you, a fashion guru?"

"No, but I do take a high deal of pride in my fashion sense."  You rolled your eyes as you crossed your arms.  Why white?  It was almost too transparent, your stupid yellow star printed bra was just barely visible in the bright lights of the living room.  Surely it'd be fine at the party, it'll be dark in the house, save for the random rave lights that Jin is bound to have.  He goes all out when it's his party.

"And I assume you'll want this jacket to be black?" He nodded, it would be just wrong to have a white jacket over a white shirt.  It would clash too much.  "Too bad, I don't have one.  I have a grey one?" He shook his head.

"Nope.  Monochromatic is good, but not with this look.  Black is the only option.  Ah, you know what, I have something at my house I could lend you.  It'd so perfect with you!"  He smiled as he grabbed your wrist.  "Come on, I live 10 minutes off campus.  We've no time to waste!"  He whined as he dragged you through the dorm and eventually out the door.

Soon, within the next hour, you found yourself climbing off of his motorcycle- that nearly frightened you to death with him as the driver- in his leather jacket outside a house too big to be real and almost envy-inducing.

The house was two stories and looked like a widened stock photo with how wide it was.  All the window shades were open and lights of blues, reds, purples flickered in uneven patterns through them.  The music was just bass boosted enough you could feel it in your feet when Jimin marched you both up the patio and through the door.  It was like walking into a speaker the way your body met with all the heat, lights and loud music.

You couldn't hear yourself think as you weaved through people, behind their backs and gasping when you nearly ran into a couple more than ready to take their lip lock elsewhere.  You shrunk in on yourself as you stumbled around before Jimin took your wrist again.

"Come on," he leaned closer to you and spoke loud enough you could hear him.  Letting him drag you off somewhere, he quite rudely pushed people away and maneuvered through the crowds of drunk college kids. He was definitely used to this- the way he moved through the masses was a clear indication of that.

Soon he had pulled you into the kitchen where it was much less crowded than you figured it would be.  You would think since all the liquid was stored here, it would be a madhouse, but only a few bodies stood around sipping from the typical red cup with rosey, drunken cheeks.  The music had dulled back in the kitchen, so a conversation wasn't totally out of the question.  You placed your hand on your chest and sighed at the room to actually breathe.

Jimin, beside you, chuckled as he rubbed your back between your shoulder blades.

"you really aren't cut out for tight spaces, doll."  You glared at him.

"Oh, so you just now realize that you moron?" He only chuckled as he whipped out his phone and sent a text to someone.  Just one text, as opposed to an hours earlier when he was texting anyone and everyone nonstop in sequence.

No soon was Jackson waltzing into the kitchen.  JImin watched as you seemed to lighten up at the face of someone so familiar to you.  Jackson sauntered out with a smile, nearly jogging at he bumped into your side with his own.  Wearing a snapback and some jersey with a pair of old, acid washed jeans, he looked like a jock ripped straight out of some gross teen-movie.

His breath stunk of booze, but he was still partially sober.  He could hold his alcohol better than you thought he could, to be honest. You pushed away his cheek that was far too close to your face to get the radiant smell of beer away from your nose.

"you're gross and smell, get away from me you sweaty-"

"Do not insult me when I know for a fact you're so ready to shit bricks."

You gaped at him as you smacked the back of his head, making him whine and wince as he rubbed it.  Sure you were nervous being here, but you weren't that nervous.  You crossed your arms as you pouted, Jimin once again finding a sense of adorableness between you and Jackson's interactions.

"I hate you," you muttered as Jackson feigned hurt.  He dropped his act as he playfully slapped your ass, making you squeak before he turned to Jimin.

"How'd you get Straight-Lace-Y/n out of her room on a Friday my man?  I gotta know, for future reference of course."

"You would never believe how easy she is to persuade if you say the right things."  Jackson gasped.

"You didn't make some sketchy deal did you?!"  You squawked as Jackson quickly pulled you against his chest, nearly knocking you over in his haste as he practically hissed as Jimin.  "Don't be touching my little Y/n! She's way too young!"  You whined.

"I'm only a few years younger than you!"  Jimin didn't know how old you were exactly, but if you were younger than Jackson, you were around his age then?  Jimin just shook his head as he slipped his thumbs through the front belt loops of his pants, leaning back just enough for it to almost be attractive.  Almost.

"I won't disclose our agreement with someone who didn't witness it.  Clients secrecy."

"Stop!" You grumbled.  "That makes it seem so bad!"  Jimin laughed as the three of you soon took to sticking in your little group and chatting.  Jimin had finally got you to loosen up enough to at least have one cup of something to drink.  Beer wasn't typically your thing, but after not being impressed with the rest of the liquor lineup, it wasn't so bad in comparison.

Eventually, you seemed to even start enjoying yourself.  Playfully quipping at anything Jackson or Jimin had to say and even smiling or laughing at some dumbass joke that came out of one of their mouths. Jimin laid off the alcohol for the most part, as he was your ride home and he may be wild, but drunk driving is definitely not his main game.

Soon, Jackson abandoned ship and Jimin had begun to wander around and meet of people he knew, all while you remain attached at his side with his hand over yours.  True to his word, he never once left you on your own the whole night and when Jimin finally suggested you go back to your dorm it was well past midnight.  You didn't want to stay out this late, but you weren't particularly fussed about it either.

Weaving back around passed out drunks, far too attached couples and still dancing troopers, Jimin and you ended up back outside and across the lawn to his motorcycle where it had sat parked all night.

As he placed his helmet on his head and climbed on, you followed he flipped up his visor to look at you.

"It wasn't so bad, now was it?" His muffled voice asked.  You rolled your eyes, hating to admit that anything Park Jimin did for you was actually enjoyable unlike you previously thought.

"It wasn't awful, but don't expect this to happen a second time, Park." After dropping you off and making sure you got into your room safe and sound at ten after 1AM, he drove back home.  He lived in an apartment off campus, well off enough to afford it before he needed to get back into the part-time job department of life.

Stripping free of his party clothes and swapping them out for sweats and a thin, stretched out grey shirt, he flopped onto his bed.  Realizing two things. One, you still had his leather jacket and two, he hadn't stopped smiling since you wrapped your arms around his waist on the way back to your home.

You were rudely awoken the next morning at 10AM with your phone that blared for the 4th time beside your head.  Groaning, you grabbed the stupid piece of screaming plastic that continued to ring and finally looked at the screen.  Though it was sunny outside, your blackout curtains in your room made sure to keep that pesky sunlight out, so the screen brightness did little to no good on your retinas.  

Unknown Calling…

You squinted at your screen.  Who was calling you? Sighing, as soon as the call dropped for the 4th time, you noticed that the same number had been the same one to call previously.  Rolling lazily onto your chest, your blankets tangling around your legs as your you felt your hair tangled around your neck and around your ears.  You stared at the black screen of your phone, as you were testing a hypothesis. True to your suspicious, the screen lit up as your ringtone blasted for the 5th time.  

Answering it seemed to be your only option at this point.  Five back to back calls was way too excessive to be some random coincidence. Swiping to answer it, you pushed your hair out of the way and placed your phone by your ear.

“Hello?” You answered the best you could with sleep still thick in your voice.  

“Your sleep schedule is awful.  It’s been like, what? Nine hours and your ass in still in bed?” You groaned as you flopped onto your back.

“How did you get my number, Jimin?”

“Take a wild guess?” He teased.  Obviously, it was Jackson.  You muttered a ‘snake’ under your breath as Jimin chuckled into the line.  “Get up, we’re going out.”  You blinked at your dark ceiling.  

“And if I said no?”

“Then I’ll come bang on your dorm door again. I’m already sitting outside the campus dorms.  It’s not too long of a trip up the stairs Y/n.”  You groaned again knowing full well that Jimin absolutely meant it.  “No?”

“Fine, give me like 15 minutes.”

“15?!”

“Don’t push me,” you cut as you hung up on him. Tossing your phone aside,  you crawled out of bed with a whine as you wobbled around your room, trying to wake up enough to wash your face before getting dressed.  

Jimin stood at the curb of the dormitory, leaning against a light pole.  He watched as you cut the call off and your number faded from his phone screen.  Shaking his head, he pocketed his phone as he took a breath out.  Part of him was wondering what he was doing?

He could’ve made other plans today, but he didn’t.  Rather, he didn’t want to.  He fell asleep with you on the brain and woke up the same exact way.  After texting Jackson all morning, trying to pry information out of him and successfully doing so with the promise of a week’s worth of lunch on him, he finally got your number out of him too.  So, the calling began.  

He was rather shocked it only took 5 calls to wake you up.  He laughed to himself as he plucked his phone from his pocket and sent you a text before you came down.  

Jimin: Bring my jacket back, I miss it. :((

He laughed out loud when you shot back nothing but the middle finger emoji.  What a highschooler move.  It was chilly out today.  The clouds kept hiding the sun as they rolled under the light, only letting brief spots of warmth out at a time.  A small breeze was in the air as Spring had just begun with the promise of rain in the afternoon no doubt.  

His blue jeans and hot pink hoodie stood out, yes, but he was proud of that fact. His hair free of a cap lifted with each small gust of wind.  It was exactly 17 minutes when he saw you walking out of the dormitory, a red flannel purse on your hip. His jacket on your shoulders with a black shirt with the picture of a cat on the breast pocket and a pair of blue shorts.  Your hair was down, without anything covering or added to it.  

Part of him didn’t want the jacket back now.

When you got to him, the first thing you did was greet him with a harsh stomp on his foot with your shoes.  He whined as his thin converses did nothing to guard his foot against your heel.

“What was that for?!”

“Calling me five times and then proceeding to force me out of my dorm on a Saturday!”  You argued as you huffed and crossed your arms. “As punishment for stealing my lazy day, I’m keeping your jacket until I return home.”  He grinned, he wasn’t totally against that.  

“Have it your way,” he was easy to give him.

“What did you want anyway?”  He stood back up and swayed to your side.

“A week.”

“Pardon?”

“A little birdie told me that you can’t believe I can go a week with one person.  So, I’d be honored if you took me up on the challenge to so spitefully requested of me.” You shivered in mock disgusted.  “Hey!”

“Calm down, Queenie,” you teased with a grin of your own.  “I actually meant that towards all your flings, but sure.  If you think you can handle a week of me arguing leaving my room, by all means, give it a whirl.” Jimin looked at you with questions in his eyes.  “What now?”

“You gave in waaay too easy, Y/n.”  

“Yeah, well if I declined, I have a suspicion you’d whine to Jackson, who in turn would whine to me and I’m not really up for any more of that than I have to deal with on the daily.” He smiled as he pushed playfully on your shoulder, making you smile again.

“Look at you! Already guessing and knowing my habits.  We’re basically best friends already!”

“Don’t let Jackson hear you.  That will also result in whining.”

“Duly noted.”

Soon, Jimin had started walking around in random locations towards the city.  Something about wanting to window shop and making you come along with him.  You watched when he pulled out a Zippo lighter with a small, nearly empty pack of cigarettes directly off campus.  You rose your brow when you asked him about it.  He was a smoker, but he was in the middle of trying to quit.  He had slowed down from a pack in two days to only a few smokes in that time.  He wanted to pace himself until he cut them off completely.  Ht told you once this pack was done, he would try not to buy any more.

You then started offering him solutions to cravings.  Candies or small habits were a good way to get the urge to smoke off the brain.  Or, if he absolutely found himself not able to quit, e-cigarettes surely weren’t so bad.  Expensive, but not an awful half solution. He took your suggestions to heart, not actually expecting you to take that topic and run with it.  

He had snuffed out the bud when you both got closer to the shopping strip of stores after stores with a cafe on nearly every corner.  It was always busy during the weekend, and Jimin had a feeling you didn’t get to shop often.  The way you seemed to light up and become more bouncy at the idea of maybe actually getting something for yourself today was proof of that.

You both went to store after store with enough coffee breaks to power an engine.  Eventually, Jimin had walked into some indie store, more than curious about the odd patterns he saw in the display window.  You trailed after him, winding through aisles and stopped when you saw a small charm necklace.

The necklace itself wasn’t the best and the chain was weak enough that if you pulled just a bit too hard or it snagged in anything it would surely break. But, it wasn’t that which intrigued you.  It was the pendant itself.

It was a small dandelion. It’s small, metal puffs pushing out in the circle as it if you blew just hard enough the puffs would scatter. Jimin stopped when he noticed you weren’t tailing him anymore, turning to see you bent over and looking at it.  He backtracked to stand at your side, hands in his pockets as he observed it with you.

“You like this?”

You nodded.  “I do.  Dandelions are my favorite flower.  I don’t really like when they bloom into the yellow ones, Jackson used to pluck those and smear it’s pollen all over my arms when we met.  I do like the wish ones those.”

“Wish ones?”

“Yeah, the ones you make a wish on.  If you find one like this,” you poked at the necklace, “and you make a wish, you have to blow as hard as you can.  If you manage to get all the seeds to blow off, then your wish is supposed to come true.” You chuckled at yourself.  “It’s all fairy tale sounding, but you can’t deny its got its romantic side.”

“Huh, who knew an everyday weed is so meaningful to other people.”  You stood up as you huffed.  

“I’ve seen moms get mad at their kids for pulling dandelions and giving them to them as gifts.  They’re not weeds, so just accept them!”  You pouted as Jimin laughed.  You spun on your heel as you trotted off, Jimin watching your back as you disappeared behind some racks of clothing. He rolled his eyes at your dramatic march off as he stood up and followed you, not before grabbing the necklace though. 5$ isn’t too much to spend.

After he secretly purchased the necklace, he placed the small pouch it was in promptly into your purse when the two of you were at yet another cafe while you were in the bathroom.  Apparently, this specific cafe stop was for you to pee, as you had decided that a whole soliloquy about how your bladder was about to burst was absolutely necessary.  It wasn’t. When you returned, all you did two was chat like old friends who knew each other since you were in diapers.

Jimin wasn’t nearly as awful as you thought, and part of you felt guilty for judging him so quickly.  Sure, his reputation was a bit black, but the boy himself was a sweetheart, and you made sure to offer him an apology and a chocolate chip muffin as compensation for your rotten attitude.

Day by day went on and as classes rolled on, Jimin would walk you to and from class, pick you up from your dorm and drop you off and even bring you lunchtime coffee just because you couldn’t say no to something he already paid for.

Eventually, the dawn of day 6 in the week broke and Jimin had called up Jackson.  Telling you that he had something planned to do and that he would see you tomorrow.  He had grown so used to hanging around you, a stab of pain hit him when you replied back to him with an ‘ok :(‘.  You were far too cute he reasoned as he put the back of his hand against his mouth as you added on a ‘you owe me, Park >:(‘ to your message.  

Jimin: I owe you? For what spoilt brat

You: For leaving me alone to drown in boredom.  How dare you??

Jimin: It was literally just last week you were biting my head off for dragging you out of your room. Now your complaining that I have something to do without you?  My my my, how they grow up so fast. Bless

You: Choke and die.  I’m going to take a nap

Jimin: It’s 8AM don’t sleep and mess up your schedule!

You: YOU CAN’T CONTROL ME PARK

Jimin: Y/N!

You: JIMIN!

Jimin: Stay. Awake.

You: …

You: Fine.  Guess I’ll play Overwatch by myself

Jimin: Ew, who plays Overwatch?

You: yOU-

H laughed when you stopped replying.  Whether or not you actually started playing or went back to sleep was a mystery to him as he walked out of his apartment to meet with Jackson.  Jimin wanted to ask him a few things before the end of the week came.  He also had a few woes to lay on your best friend's shoulders.

A game of basketball was what Jimin had planned for the day with Jackson.  Going to the public gym and meeting Jackson with sports gear and a basketball in hand, the man-to-man day would begin.  

Jimin, walking onto the courts with his sports shorts and tank top watched as Jackson lazily threw baskets in a jersey and sweats. Dribbling the ball, he passed it to the smaller man who met him on the court.  Jimin, dribbling it around and getting a feel for it watched as Jackson crossed his arm before he stretched.  

“Really, Jimin? Basketball?” Jimin rolled his eyes.  

“Listen, I have a friend who aces in basketball, so shut up.” It started with the boy just taking turns shooting before a small match of one on one began.  Squeaking shoes on the floor with heavy breaths filled the nearly empty Thursday noon-time gym.  Lay-ups were shot left and right, 3-pointers and of course, the ever dreaded airball followed by laughing at the lame excuse of a shot all came with the game.  Soon, the two men were sat on the far wall, sweat covered and drinking out of water bottles purchased from the vending machine outside the doors.

“Now that the exercise part of the day is done, what is it you wanted?” Jackson asked. Turning towards Jimin taking a drink of water as Jimin craned his head up at the dim lights that definitely were going to go out soon.

“I think I have a crush on Y/n,” Jimin yelped when Jackson spit out his water on Jimin’s lap.  “Thanks for the shower, jackass!” Jackson coughed as he wiped at his chin while Jimin shook his shorts and his arms disgusted.  

“I can totally help you confess!” Jimin looked at his friend. “I’ve got this whole scene I’ve been cooking up for her lucky future boyfriend since like freshman year.  I’d spent a lot of time on this, and you- my lucky man- are gonna be the one to do it!”

“You’re okay with it?” Jimin asked, his voice skyrocketing as he barely spoke in a whisper. Jackson only shrugged as he put his back against the wall again and took a more steady drink since his last attempt ended covering Jimin.

“Yeah, why not?  Sure, you were a sleazy a week ago-”

“Hey!”

“-But, it seems like you get along with Y/n. And she’s not just gonna snub you once the weekends because that’s what you said in the beginning.”

“She told you about that?” That was true, Jimin had only planned on staying with you a week, but now he wanted an extended date.  Permanently if he had the option.

“Of course she did dude.  Look, so long as she doesn’t call me up one day bawling because you did something to her, I have no reason to knock your lights out.”  Jimin shuttered.  He wasn’t unfamiliar with the strength Jackson possessed.  He didn’t fight often, normally pretty laid back and easy going, but he’s heard rumors.  All focus solely around you and how you were picked on freshman year of college.  He got suspended for 2 weeks, but you weren’t picked on anymore.

Jimin looked at his lap as he moved and stuck out his pinky.  He remembered the party night and how serious you were about a small pinky promise.  Then, that thought somehow shifted to how you seemed to take dandelions seriously.  Jimin sighed as he turned back to Jackson, sitting cross-legged and at the utmost attention.

“Alright, tell me what I’m gonna do about this.”  A grin broke out on Jackson’s face as he clapped Jimin on the shoulder.

“Buckle in, Park.  This is gonna be one romantic fuckin’ ride.”

It was Friday as you sat in the library, reading and rereading the same paragraph in your textbook.  It was like your brain wasn’t registering the words, no matter how many times to read them over and over again.  You’d get halfway through, realize you clocked out only to repeat the process. You sighed as you slammed your head into the books fold and someone slid into the seat next to you.  

They rubbed your neck as you whined at your lame attempt at actually studying.  Turning your head and blowing your hair out of your face just enough to see who sat next to you, you weren’t entirely shocked to see Jimin. In his comfortable college dressed glory and his leather jacket, you had finally returned to him. His arm propped on the table as his palm held his chin. He was smiling, probably laughing at your obvious lack of concentration.

“Howdy, bookworm.” You rolled your eyes at him as you planted your face back into the book that smelt far too old to be a 2018 edition of World History. He chuckled again at you. “You know, you can always ditch the books?”  

“I’m so close to almost not having a B in this class it’s laughable.  I’ve never gone below that!” You whined, quietly of course as the librarian was a soundhound when it came to any loud noise ever.  She’s search out the source of the sound like a dog and quickly take to eliminate it.  You’ve been kicked out more than once in your attempts to studying turned to whines.

Jimin rolled his eyes.  Ever the drama queen.  His hand moved from your neck to treading through your hair and massaging your scalp.

“Let me rephrase,” he stopped and started again. “How about you stop for the day, hang out with me and then maybe I’ll help you study later.”  You sat up briefly, his hand remaining on the back of your head as you looked at him like a puppy dog would when offered treats.

“Can we get snacks?” You pouted and Jimin smiled enough his eyes began to close.  Patting your head, he nodded.

“Yes, we can get snacks, you big baby.”  You smiled as you sprung up and slammed your book shut, wincing on how loud the action was before you shoved it in your bag.  Jimin stole your bag before you could pick it up yourself and you pouted when he refused to give it to you. “Let me be a gentleman, Y/n.”

“You? A gentleman? Like you? As in Park Jimin who smokes and drinks?”

“I’m trying to stop smoking, you know that.”  

You nodded, pointing a finger at him.  “Ah, yes, good point.  I revoke that accusation then.” He just pulled up on his lips as he grabbed your hand and dragged you out of the library, stopping by your locker to ditch your bag inside it and then dragged you to a small convenience store to stock up on the snacks of your choosing.

However, you felt a bit bad when Jimin snatched your wallet from you when you went to grab your card and handed the cashier his instead.  You stomped and whined, but he was adamant that the bill was his to foot. You guilt was short lived when he placed the plastic bag of snacks in your arms though so you could offer him one of your marshmallowy-goodness cereal bars.  His payment for footing the payment.

Jimin gladly accepted this.

He convinced you to come back to his home so he could get out his bike, as he had told you he wanted to take you somewhere.  Not sure where he was going, you were half sure he was gonna take you someone and murder you with how sappy he’s been all afternoon, but also half as sure that he wouldn’t.  With a laugh and a promise to not kill you from his mouth, you decided to trust him.

“If you do kill me though, I’m so haunting you so think wisely,” you warned as you climbed onto his bike, your bag of snacks in a holding compartment under the seat as you sat behind him and wrapped your arms around his waist.  

You always just held onto his shirt, to offer him as much space as you could as you literally clung to him not to fly off while he zooms down the road. Though, before he even kicked up the stand, he pulled your hands from his shirt and tucked you close to his back.  He made you clasp your hands together at his stomach, saying it was ‘safe’ though he’s never said that before.

Taking a breath to cool down your heated face, you could see his stupid smile in his eyes as he flicked down the visor on his helmet and kicked up the stand before revving away.  

He took you down some country roads before an hour passed and he stopped when he was at an open field with a small farmhouse not too far off in the distance.  The cattle were off in a group as you could see their small black and white bodies look like ants from how far they were from the two of you.

“Are you sure we can be here?” you questioned when Jimin took off his helmet and ran his hand through his hair.  You hated when he did that, how dare he do that multiple times over and not be aware of it or his attractiveness skyrocket when he does.  Damn frat boy.

“Yeah.  I got a friend of a friend’s permission to be here.  It’s all cool.  We’re not trespassing so come on.” You swung your leg back over the motorcycle before Jimin linked his arm with yours and began to walk off, setting his helmet on his bike seat and not forgetting to grab your snacks either.  

The two of you just walked around.  Treading through the grass and making sure not to step on any flowers of innocent bees doing their hard work of collecting pollen.  Though, Jimin did wave and scare off a wasp once or twice. Which was dumb because that only resulted in the bug buzzing angrily after the two of you before it gave up.

Eventually, you both came to a grove of trees.  They were tall and proud.  You had no doubt they had taken years upon years to grow up to this level of brilliance.  It was just the right time in spring in flowers flew from the treetops and the green returned to the leaves. The wind that knocked the flower petals around was like a cinematic effect.  

Jimin was quick to plonk himself down at the base of one of the trees, sitting cross-legged while unloading your snacks.  Bags of chips, plastic bins of cookies, small individual wraps of brownies and of course some soda to tied you two over while you feasted.  Definitely not healthy, but oh so worth it.

The two of you sat under the tree as ate while you talked more.  It was strange that Jimin and you never ran out of things to talk about.  Any quiet gap between the conversation was quickly filled because all you two were doing was chalking up more conversations to have.  It was comfortable and the air around it made it seem like Jimin enjoyed it more than you did.

“Oh! I forgot, Jackson told me that you have a tattoo!” Jimin ticked his brow up at two things.  Yes, he did, but how did Jackson know that?  Then he remembered just who Jackson Wang was: Gossip Farm Member No.1. “How dare keep secrets in this relationship.  I demand a refund of time and lies.” Jimin shoved at your shoulder as he shrugged off his leather jacket, leaving him in a navy shirt.

“How about I show you and we can forget all about that refund?”

“If you whip your dick out and show me some weird cockring tattoo, please forget it.”  He laughed, nearly falling onto your lap as you braced his back. “I’m serious!” You cried in your own laughter.  He shook his head, putting the back of his hand against his face and looking at the sky through the tree’s leaves.  

“I cannot believe you sometimes.”  He swung his jacket around your shoulders.  “It’s on my rib cage, so hold my jacket for me.  I don’t want to get it all grassy.” You’d complain, but you did have a soft spot for this jacket. So, you slipped your arms through the sleeves and huffed in peace as the jacket warmed you up from Jimin’s body previous being in it.

Jimin slipped one of his arms back through the short sleeve of his shirt as it appeared under the bottom of it and pushed it up to reveal his torso.  The sharp, black ink of NEVERMIND engraved on his ribs. You awed at it.  It was something you wouldn’t expect to be on Jimin, yet the idea and the look of it suited him so well it was almost painful.

“Honestly, if you keep springing these attractive attributes on me I’m going to cry.” Jimin rolled his eyes as he- instead of putting it back on- removed his shirt altogether.  Showing you his back where a spade tattooed lay between his shoulders.  “Another one?!” He chuckled.

“You said not to spring it on you,” he slyly remarked as he watched your face heat up.  “What, too attractive?  Come to think, did you back-handedly compliment me a moment ago?”

“No. Shut your trap you stupid college frat.”

“You’re very good at sending compliments like insults.”

“Ugh, fine!  You’re attractive- is your ego gloated enough now?” He smirked as he took his shirt and threw it around your neck, dragging you closer to him. Your breath caught when he bumped his nose against your, scanning your face like a computer would a test sheet to make sure a No. 2 leaded pencil was used.

“It’s can be inflated a bit more, truth be told.” He watched your eyes switch between his own. “Remember what you told me about dandelions? How they make wishes come true?” You nodded. “Good,” he breathed before he kissed you.  He eased his shirt from around your neck when you didn’t fight or push him away.  He pushed down on you, pushing you further against the trunk of the tree as the sun made the shadows of the leaves dance.  

It was like the shimmering of the sea on your skin as he cracked open his eyes when he pulled away from you just long enough for you to grip the back of his head, entangling your fingers in his hair and pull him straight back.  He wasn’t complaining, smiling as the kiss became fervent.

He didn’t know how long he spent hunched over you in an intense lip lock, and frankly, he didn’t really care either.  Though, there is one thing from the Park Jimin a week ago that wasn’t snuffed out.  The playboy heartbreaker surely died, as you killed him within less than a week.  However, his tolerance and patience when it came to things that looked to become more heated than not, was still at an all-time low.  

He whined as he forced himself away from you, watching as your kiss-swollen lips breathed harsh air out in gasps and your face was as red as the blood rushing to them.  He chuckled as he kissed the tip of your nose and from previous knowledge of seeing it earlier, moved back from you and plucked a dandelion that sat behind him at the base of the tree trunk.

Jimin turned to you and held it in front of your face before he smiled and blew on it.  All the seeds scattering onto your face and into your hair as it left the stem bare. You blew out your lips, trying to make sure no seeds were unsightly inhaled at his assault.  

He laughed again.  “Wanna know what I wished for?”

You plucked seed after white seed out of your hair before you looked up at him as he tossed the stem over his shoulder. “You can’t tell.  That’s literally rule number 1 of wish making.  Telling someone the wish makes it void and it can’t come true!” You pouted.  “Though, I am curious.”

He smiled as he moved and pinched your side.  He kept pinching you until you got to your knees before he grabbed your waist and dragged you over to him.  You walking clumsily on your knees found yourself sat forcefully on Jimin’s thighs as he intertwined his fingers behind your back.

He pouted cutely at you as his blond hair was like that of the sun.

“I wished you would kiss me again.”

“You’re awfully cocky,” you replied with that same crimson on your face.

“I didn’t hear a no?”

“You didn’t, because you know damn well I’m not gonna say no!”

“It’s not nice to yell at your boyfriend who bought you snacks and only wants a kiss or two.”

“You’re actually the worst.”

“Kiss me!”

“Why should I?” You teased as he pushed his knees up, making you fall closer to his chest.  

“The dandelion said so,” so he laughed and kissed you again for certainly not the last time.

-END-

[boundpredator]

One Night Stand

{TW: murder, mentions of abuse}

One manicured finger circles the rim of her martini, her engraved brass ring glinting despite the poor light of the bar.

"I must say, you are the most beautiful woman in this entire bar." The older man smiles, his salt and pepper hair giving his age away more readily than his botoxed face does.

She flashes a smile, her perfect teeth bared in what he perceives as her interest. "I do believe you're just tryin to butter me up, sugah." The pad of her finger dips into the glass, a drop of the clear liquid beading on her skin before she continues tracing the rim.

The man smiles, leaning in. She can smell the whiskey, heavy on his breath despite the full tumbler in his hand. He’s probably been drinking for hours, but that doesn’t change anything. "I can't help it. Ever since you walked by, I've had the most ungentlemanly thoughts." The brunette‘s pleasant expression doesn’t flinch as the palm of his hand begins to slide up her bare leg, his fingertips playing with the hem of her skirt.

This was the moment she had been waiting for: grabbing the sloppy mess he calls a tie with her left hand, her clutch dangling from her wrist, she pulls him to her. Lips finding his ear, she whispers in a heavy southern drawl, "First we finish our drinks, then I'm gonna let you live out each one of those thangs you been thankin 'bout." Right hand hovering over his drink, her thumb presses a tiny latch on her ring. The top, engraved with a dagger, flips open and the fine white powder falls into the amber liquid in his glass. A twist of her wrist causes the poison ring to close again just as she pushes him back. The lusty haze in his eyes lets her know he'll be downing his whiskey and GHB probably before she even brings her own glass to her lips.

Her eyes never leaving his, the brunette picks up her martini glass, taking a sip of her water, wrinkling her nose as if it carried the sharp bite of alcohol. Cocky grin in place, the man swirls his whiskey in the glass before turning it up, downing every drop. The woman simply smiles.

"Looks like you're anxious to get me upstairs." Abandoning her drink, she stands and heads to the elevator. Whispering to herself, "Three, two, one."

When she finishes her count down, have can hear his clumsy stagger directly behind her. "Hold on, baby, you need me and my key."

She can't help but roll her eyes, still smiling. "Of course, sugah. Just lead the way." Taking his arm, the green eyed woman watches for any sign that the drug is taking its effects.

Once inside the elevator, it's a matter of seconds before his hands are all over her, roaming her body. Suppressing the nausea that punches her in the gut, she plays along. A soft moan here, a tug at his shirt, all the right signals to promise him the time of his life once in the room.

Her efforts pay off as the door opens and his near lifeless body slumps against her. Pulling his arm around her shoulders, she half carries and half drags him to the room she already knew was his. The smell of his rancid breath combined with the heft of his weight causes her to stagger. Anyone watching would believe it’s just a drunken couple trying to make it to their room. Looks are usually deceiving like that. Leaning him against the door, she pulls her lip between her teeth as she searches his pockets for the key card. Pushing it into the lock, she quickly pushes down the knob. It's hard to hide her satisfaction at how his head bounces on the cheap carpet of the hotel floor.

"Oopsy daisy!" Ginning wide, she steps over him before grabbing his arm. She steadies her grip on his forearm, so the delicate bones of his wrist don’t separate, and drags him inside. Grateful for the automatic locking door, she smirks. "You could have waited to go to sleep on the bed, dear."

Bending at her knees, the woman hooks her arms under her unconscious companion's shoulders. With a loud grunt, she heaves him onto the bed. Though he outweighs her considerably, she has enough faith in her nightly squats routine to move him. Methodically, she undresses him, dropping his clothes into a pile beside the bed. It’s not easy to make it look like a man undressed himself, but it’s a skill she’s developed. Quickly wiping the buckle of his belt and any other buttons that may have caught her prints. She knows she has to work fast.

He may not be dead, but that was only temporary. Diego Montez was known for three things. His association with the mafia, his heroin addiction and his taste for women. This was the image he presented to friends and family alike. Few people knew of his child trafficking, or that he carried, by her estimates, one hundred thousand dollars from his underground venture with him from place to place. There had to be ledgers and notes on his sales and associates. The man was a shrewd business man. There’s no doubt he would record everything, and in a hotel room, there was only one place he would keep his stuff.

Dropping to her knees in front of the closet, she slides the door open. With a smirk in place, she opens her wristlet. Pulling out a black card, she's careful to not to tangle the cord hanging from it. One quick swipe and the tiny computer attached to the other end quickly scrolls through the numbers zero through nine before they find the right four digit combination that causes the little door to swing open.

"And they said digital locks would be harder… it was harder when you had to listen to the tumble and click."

Her quip ends suddenly when she sees her haul. Nine stacks of cash, four inches high and all the little tools he needed to chase the dragon. With a giggle, she claps twice. "He made this too easy." As she unloads the cash, there’s a treasure waiting on her. Two books: one full of numbers and the other serving as the key to unlock the code of numbers. While the money is a nice surprise, these two little books are far more valuable. With them, she can take down an entire web of pain…

As she approaches the unconscious man with the lethal dose of heroin, she can already read tomorrow's headlines "Suspected Underboss Found Dead From Overdose."

The night had gone better than she expected. A potential one hundred thousand dollar haul ended up being a nine hundred thousand pay off with an escape route /and/ a virtual map of evilness. If only all her targets made her calling this easy. A needle in pervert, eight hundred thousand dollars at a battered women and children's shelter and a hundred thousand more in her own bag finds her catching the next bus out of town the following dawn. The emerald eyed murderess doesn’t know where this bus is going, not that she would care even if she knew. She had her destinations in mind. She just had to connect the dots to get there.

[wulfrann]

AFTG Check, Please! AU

Ok so I had this idea a week ago because I’d read something about Andrew getting into baking to satisfy his sweet tooth cravings, and now I can’t think of anything else. So here we go.

(PS: If you don’t know anything about the incredible webcomic that is OMG Check, Please!, do yourself a favor and go read it.)

(PPS: No one is one character, I just took what I wanted for x character and left the rest aside.)

_

The Foxes are the same as in the books except they play hockey and live in a frat house.

(NB: Hockey is a mixed sport in this AU thank you very much)

(NB: I don’t know how many people there are in a hockey team and frankly I don’t care. I’m here to have fun, not to be accurate.)

_

The hockey team has a frat house instead of a tower, and it’s called The Haus. The few larger bedrooms are shared, the smaller ones are not.

Andrew and Aaron share the attic. They have a mini-fridge for Andrew’s ice-cream and booze, even though there’s already a huge fridge in the kitchen. Andrew likes to climb out the window to smoke on the roof.

Renee and Allison also share a room, and so do Matt & Seth. (Matt does spend a fair share of his nights in Dan’s room, though. The both of them have the most “relationship fines” out of the whole team.)

Kevin technically shares his room with Nicky even though it’s small, except Nicky actually really lives off-campus with his boyfriend Erik. (I lied. They’re the ones who have the most fines. The amount of pet names they can use in just daily conversations is disgusting.)

Neil… sleeps in the basement. Officially he has a dorm room, but he’s never even set a foot near the dorms.

Is he even enrolled? Yes. Where does he hide his bed during the day? He sleeps on a camping mattress. What about his dorm room?? John, his never-roommate, was disappointed until he realised that it meant he could have parties whenever he wanted.

_

Kevin hasn’t been that comfortable with contact during matches since he left the Ravens.

When Neil joins and he starts training him at the crack of dawn, Neil makes a deal with him: he’ll follow Kevin’s instructions without complaining if Kevin accepts to practice checking with him.

_

Andrew has a baking channel on youtube. He got into baking a long time ago and kept watching baking videos while thinking he could do better, so one day he just. started his own channel.

He always looks bored in his videos and never takes Q&As seriously. No one’s ever really sure if he’s actually joking.

(“What got you into baking?” “I wanted to be taller and thought eating yeast and egg whites would speed up my growth. So far the results are mixed.”)

He’s not big or anything, but the fans he does have love him. His videos are always well-made and well-framed and the recipe’s clear, and there’s always something in the background of his videos - be it a knife that’s obviously not made for cooking just sitting there, or a passed-out Kevin still holding onto the bottle of vodka from last night.

(There’s a fair share of his fans that are just here to pick up on those odd details and ponder theories about who he really is. The leading hypothesis thus far is that Andrew’s lying about the hockey team and is actually in some kind of cult.)

He rarely talks about hockey or his life in general, except to roast or complain about something or someone, mainly Kevin. His twitter however is full vague posts about his life, but never clear enough that anyone who doesn’t actually know him can figure out what exactly he’s talking about. If Andrew’s bored, and at any moment of the day chances are that he is, then you can be sure he’s typing away on his phone somewhere, complaining about campus coffee or how exactly stupid his teammates are.

No one on the team except Renee knows his twitter handle. This of course doesn’t prevent Andrew from vaguing about her, which she takes in stride.

(No one on the team knowns Renee has a twitter. They’re all convinced she’s, like, anti-social media apps for some reason. They’re not exactly wrong, because Renee does avoid getting involved in any of the unnecessary drama those apps stir, but she likes to watch when she feels like indulging in some form of mindless entertainment.)

_

Neil used to figure skate in the Raven’s junior club when he was a kid, and he still loves it to death. He turned to hockey after Mary’s death though because he needed some way to be on the ice to cope, and was surprised to find out that he likes it. A lot. There’s something about being part of a team that - well. Anyway, it wasn’t supposed to last. He planned to leave at the end of the year - that is, until he got recruited by Wymack and none other than Kevin day, who was in the Ravens’ hockey junior team, and, well. Off to Palmetto he went.

He doesn’t get Andrew at first (doesn’t even want to after Columbia), but one night he stumbles upon Andrew filming himself as he bakes some kind of pie in the Haus’ kitchen. They both agree not to say anything, since Neil’s not even supposed to be in the Haus at this hour, but it doesn’t take long for Neil to find Andrew’s channel on one of the Library’s computers the day after that.

It confuses him more than anything, to be honest, but it also makes Andrew appear more, well, human, and Neil’s curiosity gets the better of him.

He starts looking for Andrew whenever he disappears and usually finds him filming himself making some kind of pastry or another. It gets to the point where Andrew’s just used to having him here while he films, and decides that he might as well help while he’s here.

So Neil starts popping up in Andrew’s video. Oh, it’s nothing at first, just a hand here and there, entering the frame just long enough to pass something to Andrew. But then he starts making comments that Andrew doesn’t edit out and even responds to, sometimes.

(“Isn’t that a little too much chocolate? I thought Kevin wanted you to eat healthier.” “If Kevin wants to eat nothing but grass, that’s his problem. I like real food.” “By which you mean sweets. Are you sure you don’t have a sugar addiction?” “Are you sure you don’t have a death wish?”)

The only other people who know about Andrew’s channel are Aaron, Renee and Bee. Andrew and Bee frequently exchange tips and recipes, and she always leaves some kind of encouraging comment on his videos.

_

Neil practices figure skating on the court sometimes when no one’s around. Andrew finds out about it eventually. (He watches from the rafters, because someone’s got to keep an eye on this suicidal idiot somehow, and Neil pretends to ignore him.)

(And if one day Neil’s feeling so on edge that he asks Andrew to skate with him just to make sure that this is real, that he’s not back in Evermore with the Ravens, skating through Winter break with as many cuts and bruises as he has hairs, that he’s safe - and if Andrew says nothing but gets his skates anyway, so Neil can hear someone else’s blades cutting the ice, can hold onto Andrew’s shirt to remember that he won’t run - well. No one has to know.)

_

When Neil gets a phone, the Foxes make it their duty to create a profile for him on every social media platform imaginable. Eventually he gets a twitter account, and Renee messages him Andrew’s handle.

Neil starts scrolling through Andrew’s profile distractedly until he realises that a lot of his posts are about him, and he immediately starts responding.

Andrew, of course, cannot leave well enough alone, and the whole thing escalates to the point where Andrew’s followers start calling it a Feud, then a War, and post summaries of the day’s battles for those who couldn’t follow in real time.

(It’s flirting. They’d deny it to their graves but it’s flirting.)

_

Everyone has a nickname except Andrew, because he’s lame.

Allison’s is Allie. 

Dan’s just Wilds, because it’s already cool enough. 

Seth’s is Gorder. 

Nicky’s is Mickie. 

Renee’s is Walker, because same as Dan. 

Aaron’s is Ronnie, and he hates it (Nicky came up with it). 

Matt’s is Boydster. 

Kevin’s is Daisy. 

Neil’s is Joster, then Jester after the interview with Kathy Ferdinand. 

(I know those don’t do justice to Check Please so if you have better ideas please tell me.)

_

Bonus facts:

Matt and Nicky do Ransom & Holster’s “Hockey Shit” thing at Neil every time Neil asks a question.

Kevin has the best Hockey Butt, no questions asked.

Allison has the best Flow, no questions asked.

When they make the playoffs they stop shaving/getting haircuts, because that’s the Rule. Dan throws hers and Allison’s epilators in the trash as soon as they get the news. Matt’s beard is crowned Most Magnificent by the end. The twins get, like, five and a half hairs on their chins. Neil ties his hair back because it keeps falling in his face. Nicky grows a beard which he either loves or hates depending on the day. 

[mutantsrisingrpg]

Congratulations MORGAN! You’ve been accepted as PALLENE.

This was a super, super hard decision to make - honestly, the hardest app decision I’ve had to make so far! But in the end, Morgan, your app stood out because of the humanity you brought to Anastasia. Yes, she’s artificial, and yes, she’s manipulative, but she’s also had to get hurt to get there and you highlighted that really well. I’m so glad to have Anastasia back in play and can’t wait to see what she does next on the dash!

Welcome to Mutants Rising! Please read the checklist and submit your account within 24 hours.

NAME/ALIAS: Morgan

PRONOUNS: She / Her

AGE: 28

TIMEZONE & ACTIVITY LEVEL: EST, On a scale of 1 to 10, I’d say I can be a 7. I’m in a D&D group who play late on Fridays and Saturdays, so I’ll be less active on those days. I hope that’s alright!

In Character Information:

DESIRED ROLE: Anastasia Ahn

GENDER/PRONOUNS: She / Her

DETAILS & ANALYSIS:

Her favorite colors might surprise some. She loves navy colors and greys.But there is just something so relaxing about neutral and cool colors that she feels drawn to. Though she’s also very partial to white and gold. Gold jewelry is her preference.

Her favorite flower is a daisy. Most people would think it would be a rose and that’s what she would tell you as well. But anyone who knows her knows that’s not true. Roses are just the common answer and one of the most expensive.

If Ana has a feeling about someone, she doesn’t usually say it outright. She’ll hold on to it so that she can watch for slips or things that confirm what she’s seeing. She’s been able to develop a persona to placate people into a false sense of security when she’s really watching them closely. The motto keep your friends close but your enemies closer is something that she follows and it’s worked for her so far.

She often deals in differing shades of grey. No one is ever black or white. Good or Evil. To her everyone is capable of anything and she usually doesn’t let a pretty face or sweet words throw her off. If anything that is what makes her even more suspicious of people. It doesn’t matter where you come from or what you talk like. She takes more stock in people’s actions. It’s easy to talk a big game but to follow it up with actions is what she truly relates to. She would know because she plays the same game. It’s kind of a ‘no one can trick people like I can’ type of thing. She’s spoiled but doesn’t see it that way. If she wants something she’s going to do her damnedest to get it, come hell or high water. Though she has another side of her as well. The soft and scared side that is afraid to be left alone. The one that wrestled with the fact that she could and had manipulated people into liking her. She’s more than she seems on the surface and there’s so much in her that can be developed further.

BIO:

A precious baby. Seemingly perfect in every way. Ten fingers and toes and bright amber eyes. Even as a child, Anastasia Ahn had a way of charming everyone who saw her face. A bit of raven hair placed messily on the top of her head. It’s a shame that her mother was one of the few people who could resist her charm. A child wasn’t in the future that her mother had set out for herself but she also wasn’t a complete monster. There was a connection there, no matter how small it was. She could make this work for her. Her mother had no idea who Anastasia‘s father was, but she looked enough like a recent fling she had that she thought she could convince him that she were his daughter. With a bit of charm and fake tears it was easy enough. They had a whirlwind marriage and it suddenly appeared like Anastasia was a happy accident.

On the outside her family seemed perfect. A nice house, caring parents, and even a family dog. Her father loved and cherished her. Anastasia was his baby girl and he was her whole world. She was what most people would call a daddy’s girl. Especially because her mother was more hands off. She never really noticed though, mostly because she was too young. Ana always seemed to brighten the mood of everyone who entered the room with her. For a few years she lived the life most people would kill to have. If her story ended there, maybe she would have been really happy. But she wasn’t old enough yet to realize that sometimes good things don’t last.

There were angry voices that echoed down the hall but the words were too big for her to understand fully. Divorce. Infidelity. But she easily picked up on the anger in the words. Even her presence didn’t change anything. It was a pain she didn’t fully understand quite yet but she would soon put a name to the pain. Rejection. Ana never wanted to feel it again. She would make sure of it.

That was when Anastasia’s powers really started to manifest. The moment she watched her father walk out the door, tears streaming down her face, was the moment her heart started to harden. It was the first time she actively tried to change someone’s emotions. No one was going to hurt her like that again. Ana watched as there was a flicker of a change. She saw the love and adoration come back. It lifted her heart and she felt a small tremble of power at her newly found power. But it didn’t last long. By the end of the day it had worn off and her father was gone, this time for good.

When she entered high school she started filling up her empty feeling with people. This is where she really felt a thrill, what she had been missing. It wasn’t love, but the feeling of seeing someone pay her attention. She quickly became addicted to it. seeing how many people she could string along and play with. How many hearts she could shatter with lies and false promises? She didn’t know but she was more than willing to find out. From that point on she became the unobtainable. As soon as she felt someone getting too attached to her she made sure to drop them like yesterday’s news. Seeing the look on their faces is what she lived for. But she also still afforded them glances here and there to make them think they still had a chance with her. She became the queen bee and homecoming queen that every girl growing up wanted to be.

She was more than she ever thought she was and yet it felt right. That this was the way she was supposed to be. With this she gained a reinvigorated passion to do what she wanted to do with her life. What could make her parents pay for trying to trample her and yet give her the attention she craved and the ability to play with people without getting too close? The fact that she was already childhood friends with Chance Matthews, made it easy for her to become a part of the Jem Family. Collecting information came easy to her and it let her play with other people. A win, win, right?

EXPANDED CONNECTIONS:

Chance:

Not many things get under her skin but the rift between Chance and herself has and it has also shaken her confidence a bit. Especially since he was one of few people she hadn’t manipulated for fun. She genuinely liked him, and and him rebuffing her brought back those feelings of rejection. That doesn’t sit well with her at all. But she also knows she has to be careful of where she steps because of who he is. Though that isn’t going to stop her from digging deeper and trying to figure out how their relationship took a nose dive. She has very few long time friends and the immediate loss of one shook her to her core. Anastasia is not one to take no for an answer.  Is it the right thing to do? Probably not. Does she care? No, not really.

Shae:

No one knows her better than Shae. She will openly admit that and it’s easy to see. Does she treat them the best all the time? No, and she knows deep down she probably should but she doesn’t exactly know the right way of going about that. Ana does what she can though, always there for gossip and fun. But without Shae, Ana wouldn’t be half of the person she was today.  Ana borrows a lot of her personality from them and their attitude. She wants to seem like a bigger and better person than she really is and she knows that they can probably see through her exaggerations but she continues to do them anyway. After all she has a friend for life in her, right?

Isaac:

Isaac is very interesting to Ana. He’s her current mark and she knows that she has to take this seriously but something about it just seems like it’s going too easy. She’s having fun, but is also keeping an eye out for anything that seems off. If Ana wanted danger, she got it in spades being around him and she wouldn’t want it any other way. Now she doesn’t even have to exaggerate a lot of the things that happen. She just isn’t sure if he realizes how much danger he really is in having her hanging out so close to him. But she’s sure he’ll see eventually. Though she is starting to grow a small fondness for him, and his sweet stupidity but she’d never say that to anyone.

EXTRA: I made a mock blog / inspo blog for her [ here ] and a pintrest page [ here ]

ANYTHING ELSE: Did you have any questions or any changes you wanted to discuss with us beforehand? Nope!

[lena-in-a-red-dress]

Lena the Totem-bearer

Lena stumbles across the totem by accident. She has her ear to the ground for any black market kryptonite sales, and she snipes it out from under another bidder. When she goes to verify its authenticity, she knows its a fake without even touching it. But even so... it captivates her.

In exchange for not spreading word his attempted deception through the community, the seller gifts the stone to her free of charge. Tests reveal that it belongs to the emerald family, and that it's old. Older than written history. It's edges are jagged and its chain is so rusted it nearly falls apart in her hands. The gem is flawed beyond value, but even so it shines like the most priceless of jewels.

Lena commissions a custom setting and chain for it. The silver base covers the rough edges and it hangs from a wide snake chain to rest against her sternum. And there it lives. She wears it every day for a week before it occurs to that she should shake it up. Swapping it out for a simple string of pearls makes her feel out of sorts the entire day.

After that, she simply doesn't bother with variety. Lena feels powerful wearing it-- confident, and self-assured. But correlation doesn't equal causation, and she thinks nothing of it. She also doesn't notice that her office plants slowly begin to recover from her lack of care-- when she does, its only because one of the spider plants has grown a tendril long enough to tickle the bare skin of her arm.

Lena assumes Jess has started watering them, and that coupled with a few weeks of sunny conditions must be the reason for the growth spurt. She trims it back, and doesn't give it a second thought.

The first thing that strikes her as odd is the day she meets Kara in the park for lunch. Kara runs late, and Lena waits on her back in the grass, basking in a rare moment of inactivity. Kara's eventual arrival is announced by the artificial shutter snap of a smartphone camera.

She cracks open one eye to squint up at her friend. "Seriously? You keep me waiting only to sneak a photo of me?"

Kara is utterly unapologetic. "What did you expect would happen when you decided to lay down in all those pretty flowers?"

"What?"

Lena props herself up on her elbows and scans the grass around her. Sure enough, the lawn around her is peppered with a variety of wildflowers: buttercups and daisies and bluebells all clustered around her.

"I-- didn't notice..."

She should have. And it's weird that she didn't. After that, it's like Lena's eyes are open for the first time. She finally notices that leaves seem greener when she brushes her fingers over them. Her office plants flower for the first time-- out of season. Jess confirms she hasn't touched any of the plants during her entire tenure.

((more under the cut))

But the fear doesn't set in for another two weeks. One Tuesday morning she wakes up with her heart in her throat. She feels queasy and nauseous and her skin feels like it's about to crawl off her bones. Everything is just wrong, wrong, wrong and she's nearly in tears by the time lunch rolls around.

Kara notices the moment their eyes meet at the designated cafe, but before she can say a word the world starts to shake. It feels like a train speeding by, rattling the utensils and glasses atop their metal bistro table. Then the thunder hits.

The grounds bucks violently beneath them, throwing Lena from her chair. Kara catches her  and holds her close. Lena clamps her hand over her mouth to keep from vomiting. She focuses on the sound of Kara's heartbeat and clutches her necklace in her free hand.

The second it stops, Lena feels better. Better than better. Her arms and legs feel light, as if she'd woken from the most restful nap of her life. It comes as such as a relief that she nearly laughs, even when she takes in the sight of the deep crevice that cracks the street open, exposing strata of pavement and dirt and rock, and swallows half a dozen cars just on their block.

That night, Lena buys an african violet from a flower stand and brings it home with her. With one hand on her pendant, she sits on her couch and stares at the plant sitting ignominously on her coffee table.

It's a young plant-- it's mostly leaves and a few tightly budded flowers. She stares and stares for over an hour before she bites the bullet and reaches for her phone.

"Preliminary Test Number 1. The date is Tuesday, June 3rd, time-- 1630hrs Pacific Standard. Subject is a potted African Violet, procured from Natalie's Flowers on 6th and East. Plant is comprised of six leaves-- green, ranging from one to two-and-a-half inches in size-- and two buds. Soil is dark, and--"

Lena reaches out to touch her fingers to the dirt filling the small terra cotta pot. In an instant, her tongue turns gritty, and she swallows with a dry throat.

"Soil is dry to the touch," she finishes, clearing her throat with a cough. "The buds are roughly pea-size and--"

Her voice fails her when the tightly budded flowers start to swell. Like a timelapse video the buds grow and then expand, revealing perfectly formed petals cast in a deep, gorgeous purple.

Lena shuts off her voice recorder without another word. She sits there, silently, staring at this beautiful traitor of natural order as though it could somehow explain its own existence to her.

It doesn't.

At a loss to do anything else, and unwilling to learn anything more, Lena goes to bed-- but not before moistening the soil of her troublesome new house guest.

"I think I caused the earthquake."

A week later, Lena invites Kara over to share a bottle of wine. The words fall out of her all too easily. She watches Kara's eyes widen, then crinkle in mirthful confusion when she realizes Lena isn't joking.

"Lena!" she chides, giggling. "Come on, don't do that to yourself."

"I'm not being--" Lena cuts herself off, knowing that denying melodrama would only confirm it. So instead, she climbs to her feet and starts walking to her guest room.

Kara pops up after her. "Lena, I didn't mean-- what's-- whoa."

She falls quiet at the sight of the garden that's bloomed in her spare room. That same small african violet she'd first brought home now spans over a dozen clay pots, and has been joined by peace lilies and ivies and succulents and orchids. The room bursts with life, and Lena can't help but feel a certain affection for them all.

"Lena...? Did you get tired of paying for flowers? Decided to start growing your own?"

Maybe it's the wine going to her head, or the trust she has in Kara, but Lena's answer is to simply extend her hand. The nearest tendril of ivy curls upwards, and tangles gently around her fingers.

"Ho-okay. Okay, that's-- that's new. That's new, right?"

Lena touches her pendant again. "Since I got this."

"Right. Okay. Okay, okay, so-- you've tested it? And-- wait. Plants. These are just plants. Plants don't cause earthquakes!"

And so Lena explains her distress that morning, how she'd been so close to losing her mind before the quake hit. How sweet the relief had been when it passed.

"It's like I knew it was coming, Kara. I didn't know what, until it was over. But I did."

Kara doesn't laugh. She chews her lip, and her gaze turns thoughtful. Then she sighs. "You need to tell Supergirl. She might have an idea where it came from-- or what it can do."

Lena gulps. "Okay."

"In the meantime-- don't wear it."

Explaining to Supergirl is different than explaining to Kara. Lena feels guilty and off-kilter-- she wonders if it's because the necklace sits in a velveteen box instead of around her neck.

"I've seen something like this before," Supergirl says finally. She's touched and examined the pendant-- the temperature and luminosity changes that Lena's recorded when she touches it don't happen Supergirl handles it. It remains dormant under the hero's touch, and Lena gets a little thrill in knowing it likes her better.

"You say you sensed the recent earthquake? Before it hit?"

Lena nods.

"Were you able to control the severity or path of the shockwave?"

"No. Nothing like that. This... it's something that happens. I didn't mean to do any of it."

Supergirl nods solemnly. "I have friends, who work with artifacts similar to these. I'd like to get their opinion on this."

"Don't take it." Lena's heart clenches in her chest, and she clutches the velvet box tightly.

A smile answers her. "I don't believe it's dangerous. I think I can bring my friends here, rather than taking it to them."

Lena sighs in relief. "Thank you." It's not an addiction, her connection to this necklace. It feels like an extension of herself, and the idea of parting with it makes her skin crawl. "And-- it's safe to wear?"

"I believe so. But if you sense another earthquake coming...?"

"Yes?"

"Do me a favor and warn Miss Danvers. She'll be able to get a warning to me."

Lena smiles. "That I can do."

Lena senses their the moment they land in National City. Not that she knows what it is when she feels it. One moment she's doing paperwork alone in her office, and the next, her pendant warms against her chest, filling her with the sense of another presence. It's almost as though someone is watching over her shoulder, but without the creepy vibe.

Supergirl's arrival on her balcony almost an hour later comes as no surprise.

"Do you have a moment, Miss Luthor? I have some friends very eager to meet you."

The flight is a short one, and as they near an empty helipad Lena spots three women waiting for them. The blonde in the middle is clearly the leader, exuding authority and capability simply in the way she carries herself. But it's the two to either side who catch Lena's eye.

Supergirl sets her down gently. Before Lena can get two steps towards their visitors she feels a tingle and a jolt and suddenly every one of her senses flares to life-- her vision turns white and her ears roar and her nose fills with the scent of the earth and the brush of soft flower petals caresses her skin.

In the pale landscape that spreads before her, two figures come into focus-- the two women who'd been waiting on the helipad. As soon as she recognizes them the rest of the world snaps back into place. Lena reflexively lifts her hand to her pendant, and feels it thrumming with warmth against her fingers.

Across the tarmac, the two women mirror her movements, touching their own necklaces with equal reverance. Lena echoes their soft, shared smile.

Their captain steps forward with a satisfied quirk of her eyebrow.

"Let’s talk."

[gigglegirl77]

this skin

summary: Chris strikes up a conversation with a stranger while she’s getting a tattoo. 

pairing: Chris Evans x ofc 

warnings: none. All cute fluff 

word count: 2.1k

Prompt: “aren’t you gonna say something?” for @loserparker 3K writing challenge! 

Notes: this is the first story I’ve written a really long time. please be gentle!  All tattoos mentioned in story are really mine and/or are currently works in progress! 

   “Hey-lets go in here” I said while walking past a tattoo shop. I was visiting New York City with my best friends, Lindsey, Ellie and Adrian on a girl's trip. “I think I’m gonna keep walking.” Ellie said with Adrian chiming in, “I’m going with you.”  Lindsey quickly threw out, “I’ll go with you Jess!”  We quickly parted ways on the street with Ellie and Adrian heading down the block. 

Pulling on the heavy black doors, we made our way inside. I slowly looked around, taking in the art on the walls.  I quickly walked up the reception desk and greeted the woman sitting there, “Hello. Is anyone available to work on me right now?” “Let me see if we have anyone available. Do you know what you’re looking to get done?” “Absolutely!” I replied.  She got up and walked further into the shop, looking for someone to complete my tattoo. “I can’t believe you’re going to get inked by a different artist. Crash is going to kill you!” Lindsey exclaimed. “It’s going to make for a great memory and Crash will totally understand.” Crash being my tattoo artist back home and the creator of my last three pieces. She might or might not understand but I wanted new ink, and this seemed like just the place for it.  The receptionist returned to the desk and let me know that an artist would be with me shortly. “Thanks!” I smiled. “Uhm, do you think you have someone who could work on me?” Lindsey queried. The receptionist laughed and said she’d go check.  I turned to Lindsey, questioning what she planned on getting. “I don’t know yet but now I’m itching for something!”

I saw movement out of the corner of my eye and turned to face the man walking up to me. “Hi, I’m Jonah. Which one of you is here for a tattoo?” I laughed and said, “Me!” Sticking my hand out to shake his hand, “It's nice to meet you Jonah, I’m Jessica but most everyone calls me Jess.” He shook my hand and said, “follow me back and we’ll get started.” I gave Lindsey a quick wave and reminded her to come find me when she was finished. 

 I followed Jonah back to his work station. I quickly sat on his table and started telling him about the tattoo I was looking to get. “I want the traditional Minnie Mouse bow outline with the color done in the watercolor design on my left shoulder.” I showed him a few similar designs on my phone and he quickly drew out a sketch. We settled on angle, slant and size and then it was time to get started. I pulled my shirt off and laid on my stomach. The cold table causing goosebumps to raise across my skin. I unhooked my bra and pulled my strap off to give him access to my bare shoulder.  “Get comfortable, this is going to take a while.” He stated. “I’m comfortable.” I replied, balling my shirt up as a makeshift pillow under my head. He shaved my skin smooth and placed the outline of the tattoo on my shoulder. I closed my eyes as I heard him preparing the ink, needles and gun. He pulled on gloves and started in on the outline, the needle moving rapidly across my skin, leaving stinging bites. Time slowly passed. I heard the door open and a male voice asking if they were ready for him.  I could hear heavy footsteps getting closer to me. Then a voice, “That looks really cool. You a Disney fan?” I winced as Jonah continued the outline, “Yeah. This is my third Disney tattoo.” I replied.

“Really?” the voice asked.

“Yeah, I have Peter Pan stars behind my right ear and Robin Hood’s hat and arrow on my ribs.”  I grimaced as Jonah started working on an area over my shoulder blade. “You ok?” the voice asked gently. “I’m ok, it just hurts like a bitch on the bone. I’m Jessica by the way.”

“I’m Chris.”

“Nice to meet you. I would totally shake your hand but I’m a little preoccupied.” I said with a laugh.

“You have a great laugh” “Thanks. I’ve been working on it my whole life.” I say with a smile. “So, are you gonna have a seat and talk to me or you just passing by?”

I could tell that he was hesitating but heard him pull up a chair next to my table. “What other tattoos do you have?” he asked me. “I mean, how well are you trying to get to know me?” I said laughing again. “You just tell me what you feel comfortable telling me.”

“Well, that’s a can of worms. I am pretty much an open book without a filter.  I have a daisy on my hip. That’s the first tattoo I got when I was 18.” I point to the tattoo on my right hip.

“What made you decide to get a daisy?” Chris asked. “Well, I was told by my then boyfriend that I would never go through with it. It really pissed me off, so I ran into the first place I came across and that’s all I could think of when he asked me what I wanted. Plus, its my favorite flower.”

“Hahaha. So, first thing learned, don’t ever tell you that you can’t or won’t do something.” “Uhm, yeah, pretty much.”  

“I’m done with the outline and I’m going to start coloring it in now.” Jonah said.  I scrunched up my face, “This is my least favorite part.” I said, “The color always hurts worse. I don’t know why that is.”

“Do you want to squeeze my hand?” Chris asked. “Do you mind?” I questioned.  “I don’t mind.” I turned my right arm around, palm up and felt his warm hand cover mine. “I’ll try not to squeeze too hard. Wouldn’t want to make you cry.” I said jokingly.  I started talking about my other tattoos again to try and distract myself from the pain in my shoulder. “I think my most meaningful tattoo is on my left forearm. It’s the Taurus constellation.” “Oh, are you a Taurus?” he asked me.  “No, I’m a cancer. My grandmother was a Taurus. Its my tattoo for her. It keeps her with me.”

I could feel his thumb start to rub against the back of my hand and he gave my hand a little squeeze. “That’s really beautiful. One of my tattoos is for my mom. She’s a Taurus too.”

“Do you have other tattoos?” I ask him. “A few. Here to more added.” He replied.  “its addicting. This is my 8th. But I think I’m close to finished.” I say while running my fingers against the palm of his hand.

“Tell me something else about you.” he requested. “I’m here on vacation.” I reply.  “I can tell” he said. “Oh really? What gives it away?” “Your accent.” “Hahaha. Most people can’t place where I’m from. I must be getting tired for it to slip out so blatantly.”  “I didn’t say it was a bad thing. Just noticed it is all.”

Jonah broke in and stated, “I’m almost done with your tattoo, Jess.” “Ok, great! Thank you so much for being able to squeeze me in tonight. I’m so excited so see it!” I exclaimed.

“I better make use of the time we have left then,” Chris stated.

“You almost sound sad.” “Just enjoying the conversation.” He replied. “Tell me your favorite thing to do on your day off,” he asked me.  

“Oh, that’s super hard. Its either sleep or read. Ooh or hang out with my friends.  Or bake. Maybe a movie or gallery. What about you?” “Without a doubt, its sleep,” he replied, laughing.

“You have a great laugh,” I say, smiling. “Can I steal your line from earlier?” ‘Nope, you gotta be more original than that!”  

I squeezed my eyes shut tightly as Jonah was digging in deep and felt Chris lay his other hand on my back and slowly start to rub up and down to soothe me. His fingers warm against my cool skin. “Is it ok for me to touch you? He asked. I nodded yes and slowly I entwined my fingers with his and gave his hand a squeeze.   “I’m just adding the finishing touches” Jonah remarked.  I let out a deep breath and squeaked out an ok.  

At the same time, Lindsey came into view. “Hey! How did your tattoo go?” I asked her with a big smile.   She stopped where she was and just stared at me with her eyes wide.

“What?” I asked. “Does it look bad? I can’t wait to see it!” She continued to be frozen in her footsteps, so I asked Chris, “Does it look ok? You’d tell me if it was terrible right?”  

“It looks amazing.” He replied. “Well Lindsey, aren’t you gonna say something?”

“Jess, it looks great. But, uhm, do you know whose hand you’re holding?”

“Yeah, this is my new friend Chris. He’s been keeping me company while Jonah here finishes me up.”

At that moment, Jonah announced he was all finished and I could take a look in the mirror.  I carefully let go of Chris’ hand and covered my chest.  I stood up to get a look at my new artwork. Over my shoulder, I could see Lindsey, still wide-eyed, looking at Chris. I slowly glanced over at him to get a good look and my jaw dropped.

Standing there was none other than Chris Evans. I blinked several times. “uh. Uhm. Uhm.” I continued to stutter. “Jessica aren’t you gonna say something?” he asked me with a grin on his perfect face.

“Hi” I stammer out, “I’m half naked.” Chris let out a belly laugh and grabbed his chest. “Well, yeah I guess you are.”  “Turn around!” I yell in his general direction and start trying to put my shirt on, having some difficulty over my tattoo. “Linds, get over here and help me,” I cry out.  “This bra was not meant to be strapless,” I lament while struggling to get completely covered.

Once I was decent, I looked back at him and just stared in amazement. “Thanks for holding my hand and being sweet to me while I was getting my tattoo.”  

“It was my pleasure. It’s a great tattoo and the company was pretty great too.”  

Blushing, “thanks.” “Do you want to hang out while I get mine done?” he asked me.

“I wish I could, but we really need to go find our friends. We’ve already been here longer than I planned.”

“You sure?” “No, I’m not sure!” I quickly answer, “but I don’t want to bail on my friends just because my dream guy is standing in front of me”  

“Dream guy, huh?”  “Like you wouldn’t believe!” I exclaim my arms wide.  “I’m in town for the next few days, maybe I can run into you again?” I shyly ask.

“Anything is possible, he said, grinning. “Hug before you go?” He offered with his arms open.

“You don’t even have to ask me twice. I was trying to figure out how to maneuver a hug.” I stated while walking towards him.  

He wrapped my up gently in his arms, one hand on my waist, the other running up and down my back. “Can I see the constellation on your arm?” he asked. I pull away from him and hold up my left arm to show him the tattoo.  He slow runs a finger across the stars and it sends a shiver down my spine.  “What does saudade mean?” he asked. “The love that remains,” I quietly answer, looking down. “That’s really beautiful. Thank you for sharing with me.” He says and pulls me back in for another hug.  I run my hands up his back and give him a tight squeeze before letting go.

 “It was great meeting you. Come find me this weekend.” I say. I turn around and start walking out with Lindsey. Stopping at the door, I look back to see him watching me walk away. I give him a final smile and a wink, then walk out the door.

[boreothegoldfinch]

chapter 10 paragraph v

Almost three hours later I was still sitting in a red vinyl booth in the Polack bar, flashing Christmas lights, annoying mix of punk rock and Christmas polka music honking away on the jukebox, fed up from waiting and wondering if he was going to show or not, if maybe I should just go home. I didn’t even have his information—it had all happened so fast. In the past I’d Googled Boris for the hell of it—never a whisper—but then I’d never envisioned Boris as having any kind of a life that might be traceable online. He might have been anywhere, doing anything: mopping a hospital floor, carrying a gun in some foreign jungle, picking up cigarette butts off the street. It was getting toward the end of Happy Hour, a few students and artist types trickling in among the pot-bellied old Polish guys and grizzled, fifty-ish punks. I’d just finished my third vodka; they poured them big, it was foolish to order another one; I knew I should get something to eat but I wasn’t hungry and my mood was turning bleaker and darker by the moment. To think that he’d blown me off after so many years was incredibly depressing. If I had to be philosophical, at least I’d been diverted from my dope mission: hadn’t OD’d, wasn’t vomiting in some garbage can, hadn’t been ripped off or run in for trying to buy from an undercover cop— “Potter.” There he was, sliding in across from me, slinging the hair from his face in a gesture that brought the past ringing back. “I was just about to leave.” “Sorry.” Same dirty, charming smile. “Had something to do. Didn’t Myriam explain?” “No she didn’t.” “Well. Is not like I work in accounting office. Look,” he said, leaning forward, palms on the table, “don’t be mad! Was not expecting to run into you! I came as quick as I could! Ran, practically!” He reached across with cupped hand and slapped me gently on the cheek. “My God! Such a long time it is! Glad to see you! You’re not glad to see me too?” He’d grown up to be good-looking. Even at his gawkiest and most pinched he’d always had a likable shrewdness about him, lively eyes and a quick intelligence, but he’d lost that half-starved rawness and everything else had come together the right way. His skin was weather-beaten but his clothes fell well, his features were sharp and nervy, cavalry hero by way of concert pianist; and his tiny gray snaggleteeth—I saw—had been replaced by a standard-issue row of all-American whites. He saw me looking, flicked a showy incisor with his thumbnail. “New snaps.” “I noticed.” “Dentist in Sweden did it,” said Boris, signalling for a waiter. “Cost a fucking fortune. My wife kept after me—Borya, your mouth, disgraceful! I said no way am I doing this, but was the best money I ever spent.” “When’d you get married?” “Eh?” “You could have brought her if you wanted.” He looked startled. “What, you mean Myriam? No, no—” reaching into the pocket of his suit jacket, punching around on his telephone, “Myriam’s not my wife! This—” he handed me the phone—“this is my wife. What are you drinking?” he said, before turning to address the waiter in Polish. The photo on the iPhone was of a snow-topped chalet and, out in front, a beautiful blonde on skis. At her side, also on skis, were a pair of bundled-up little blond kids of indeterminate sex. It didn’t look so much like a snapshot as an ad for some healthful Swiss product like yogurt or Bircher muesli.

I looked up at him stunned. He glanced away, with a Russianate gesture of old: yeah, well, it is what it is. “Your wife? Seriously?” “Yah,” he said, with a lifted eyebrow. “My kids, too. Twins.” “Fuck.” “Yes,” he said regretfully. “Born when I was very young—too young. It wasn’t a good time—she wanted to keep them—‘Borya, how could you’— what could I say? To be truthful I don’t know them so well. Actually the little one—he is not in the picture—the little one I have not met at all. I think he is only, what? Six weeks old?” “What?” Again I looked at the picture, struggling to reconcile this wholesome Nordic family with Boris. “Are you divorced?” “No no no—” the vodka had arrived, icy carafe and two tiny glasses, he was pouring a shot for each of us—“Astrid and the children are mostly in Stockholm. Sometimes she comes to Aspen to the winter, to ski—she was ski champion, qualified for the Olympics when she was nineteen—” “Oh yeah?” I said, doing my best not to sound incredulous at this. The kids, as was fairly evident upon closer viewing, looked far too blond and bonny to be even vaguely related to Boris. “Yes yes,” said Boris, very earnestly, with a vigorous nod of the head. “She always has to be where there is skiing and—you know me, I hate the fucking snow, ha! Her father very very right-wing—a Nazi basically. I think —no wonder Astrid has depression problems with father like him! What a hateful old shit! But they are very unhappy and miserable people, all of them, these Swedes. One minute laughing and drinking and the next—darkness, not a word. Dziękuję,” he said to the waiter, who had reappeared with a tray of small plates: black bread, potato salad, two kinds of herring, cucumbers in sour cream, stuffed cabbage, and some pickled eggs. “I didn’t know they served food here.” “They don’t,” said Boris, buttering a slice of black bread and sprinkling it with salt. “But am starving. Asked them to bring something from next door.” He clinked his shot glass with mine. “Sto lat!” he said—his old toast. “Sto lat.” The vodka was aromatic and flavored with some bitter herb I couldn’t identify. “So,” I said, helping myself to some food. “Myriam?” “Eh?” I held out open palms in our childhood gesture: please explain. “Ah, Myriam! She works for me! Right-hand man, suppose you’d say. Although, I’ll tell you, she’s better than any man you’ll find. What a woman, my God. Not many like her, I’ll tell you. Worth her weight in gold. Here here,” he said, refilling my glass and sliding it back to me. “Za vstrechu!” lifting his own to me. “To our meeting!” “Isn’t it my turn to toast?” “Yes, it is—” clinking my glass—“but I am hungry and you are waiting too long.” “To our meeting, then.” “To our meeting! And to fortune! For bringing us together again!” As soon as we’d drunk, Boris fell immediately on the food. “And what exactly is it that you do?” I asked him. “This, that.” He still ate with the innocent, gobbling hunger of a child. “Many things. Getting by, you know?” “And where do you live? Stockholm?” I said, when he didn’t answer. He waved an expansive hand. “All over.” “Like—?” “Oh, you know. Europe, Asia, North and South America…” “That covers a lot of territory.” “Well,” he said, mouth full of herring, wiping a glob of sour cream off his chin, “am also small business owner, if you understand me rightly.” “Sorry?” He washed down the herring with a big slug of beer. “You know how it is. My official business so called is housecleaning agency. Workers from Poland, mostly. Nice pun in title of business, too. ‘Polish Cleaning Service.’ Get it?” He bit into a pickled egg. “What’s our motto, can you guess? ‘We clean you out,’ ha!”

I chose to let that one lie. “So you’ve been in the States this whole time?” “Oh no!” He had poured us each a new shot of vodka, was lifting his glass to me. “Travel a lot. I am here maybe six, eight weeks of the year. And the rest of the time—” “Russia?” I said, downing my shot, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. “Not so much. Northern Europe. Sweden, Belgium. Germany sometimes.” “I thought you went back.” “Eh?” “Because—well. I never heard from you.” “Ah.” Boris rubbed his nose sheepishly. “It was a messed up time. Remember your house—that last night?” “Of course.” “Well. I’d never seen so much drugs in my life. Like half an ounce of coka and didn’t sell one stitch of it, not even one quarter gram. Gave a lot away, sure—was very popular at school, ha! Everyone loved me! But most of it— right up my nose. Then—the baggies we found—tablets of all assortments— remember? Those little greens? Some very serious cancer-patient-end-of-life pills—your dad must have been crazy addicted if he was taking that stuff.” “Yeah, I wound up with some of those too.” “Well then, you know! They don’t even make those good green oxys any more! Now they have the junkie-defeat so you can’t shoot them or snort! But your dad? Like—to go from drinking to that? Better a drunk in the street, any old day. First one I did—passed out before I hit my second line, if Kotku hadn’t been there—” he drew a finger across his throat—“pfft.” “Yep,” I said, remembering my own stupid bliss, keeling face-down on my desk upstairs at Hobie’s. “Anyway—” Boris downed his vodka in a gulp and poured us both another—“Xandra was selling it. Not that. That was your dad’s. For his own personal. But the other, she was dealing from where she worked. That couple Stewart and Lisa? Those like super straight real-estate looking people? They were bankrolling her.” I put down my fork. “How do you know that?” “Because she told me! And I guess they got ugly when she came up short, too. Like Mr. Lawyer Face and Miss Daisy Tote Bag all nice and kind at your house… petting her on the head… ‘what can we do’… ‘Poor Xandra…’ ‘we’re so sorry for you’… then their drugs are gone—phew. Different story! I felt really bad when she told me, for what we’d done! Big trouble for her! But, by then—” flicking his nose—“was all up here. Kaput.” “Wait—Xandra told you this?” “Yes. After you left. When I was living over there with her.” “You need to back up a little bit.” Boris sighed. “Well, okay. Is long story. But we have not seen each other in long while, right?” “You lived with Xandra?” “You know—in and out. Four-five months maybe. Before she moved back to Reno. I lost touch with her after that. My dad had gone back to Australia, see, and also Kotku and I were on the rocks—”

“That must have been really weird.” “Well—sort of,” he said restlessly. “See—�� leaning back, signalling to the waiter again—“I was in pretty bad shape. I’d been up for days. You know how it is when you crash hard off cocaine—terrible. I was alone and really frightened. You know that sickness in your soul—fast breaths, lots of fear, like Death will reach a hand out and take you? Thin—dirty—scared shivering. Like a little half-dead cat! And Christmas too—everyone away! Called a bunch of people, no one picking up—went by this guy Lee’s where I stayed in the pool house sometime but he was gone, door locked. Walking and walking—staggering almost. Cold and frightened! Nobody home! So I went by to Xandra’s. Kotku was not talking to me by then.” “Man, you had some kind of serious balls. I wouldn’t have gone back there for a million dollars.” “I know, it took some onions, but was so lonely and ill. Mouth all gittering. Like—where you want to lie still and to look at a clock and count your heartbeats? except no place to lie still? and you don’t have a clock? Almost in tears! Didn’t know what to do! Didn’t even know was she still there. But lights were on—only lights on the street—came around by the glass door and there she was, in her same Dolphins shirt, in the kitchen making margaritas.” “What’d she do?” “Ha! Wouldn’t let me in, at first! Stood in the door and yelled a long while —cursed me, called me every name! But then I started crying. And when I asked could I stay with her?”—he shrugged—“she said yes.” “What?” I said, reaching for the shot he’d poured me. “You mean like stay stay—?” “I was scared! She let me sleep in her room! With TV turned to Christmas movies!” “Hmn.” I could see he wanted me to press for details, only from his gleeful expression I was not so sure I believed him about the sleeping-in-herroom business, either. “Well, glad that worked out for you, I guess. She say anything about me?” “Well, yes a little.” He chortled. “A lot actually! Because, I mean, don’t be mad, but I blamed some things on you.” “Glad I could help.” “Yes, of course!” He clinked my glass jubilantly. “Many thanks! You’d do the same, I wouldn’t mind. Honest, though, poor Xandra, I think she was glad to see me. To see anyone. I mean—” throwing his shot back—“it was crazy… those bad friends… she was all alone out there. Drinking a lot, afraid to go to work. Something could have happened to her, easy—no neighbors, really creepy. Because Bobo Silver—well, Bobo was actually not so bad guy. ‘The Mensch’? They don’t call him that for nothing! Xandra was scared to death of him but he didn’t go after her for your dad’s debt, not serious anyway. Not at all. And your dad was in for a lot. Probably he realized she was broke—your dad had fucked her over good and proper, too. Might as well be decent about it. Can’t get blood out of a turnip. But those other people, those friends of hers so called, were mean like bankers. You know? ‘You owe me,’ really hard, fucking connected, scary. Worse than him! Not so big sum even, but she was still way short and they were being nasty, all—” (mocking head tilt, aggressive finger point) “ ‘fuck you, we’re not going to wait, you better figure something out,’ like that. Anyway—good I went back when I did because then I was able to help.” “Help how?” “By giving her back the moneys I took.”

“You’d kept it?” “Well, no,” he said reasonably. “Had spent it. But—had something else going, see. Because right after the coke ran out? I had taken the money to Jimmy at the gun shop and bought more. See, I was buying it for me and Amber—just the two of us. Very very beautiful girl, very innocent and special. Very young too, like only fourteen! But just that one night at MGM Grand, we had got so close, just sitting on the bathroom floor all night up at KT’s dad’s suite and talking. Didn’t even kiss! Talk talk talk! I all but wept from it. Really opened up our hearts to each other. And—” hand to his breastbone—“I felt so sad when the day came, like why did it have to be over? Because we could have sat there talking forever to each other! and been so perfect and happy! That’s how close we got to each other, see, in just that one night. Anyway—this is why I went to Jimmy. He had really shitty coke— not half so good as Stewart and Lisa’s. But everyone knew, see—everyone had heard about that weekend at MGM Grand, me with all that blow. So people came to me. Like—dozen people my first day back at school. Throwing their moneys at me. ‘Will you get me some… will you get me some… will you get some for my bro… I have ADD, I need it for my homework.…’ Pretty soon was selling to senior football players and half the basketball team. Lots of girls too… friends of Amber and KT’s… Jordan’s friends too… college students at UNLV! Lost money on the first few batches I sold—didn’t know what to ask, sold fat for low price, wanted everyone to like me, yah yah yah. But once I figured it out—I was rich! Jimmy gave me huge discount, he was making lots of green off it too. I was doing him big favor, see, selling drugs to kids too scared to buy them—scared of people like Jimmy who sold them. KT… Jordan… those girls had a lot of money! Always happy to front me. Coke is not like E—I sold that too, but it was up and down, whole bunch then none for days, for coka I had a lot of regulars and they called two and three times a week. I mean, just KT—” “Wow.” Even after so many years, her name struck a chord. “Yes! To KT!” We raised our glasses and drank. “What a beauty!” Boris slammed his glass down. “I used to get dizzy around her. Just to breathe her same air.”

“Did you sleep with her?” “No… God, I tried… but she gave me a hand job in her little brother’s bedroom one night when she was wasted and in a very nice mood.” “Man, I sure left at the wrong time.” “You sure did. I came in my pants before she even got the zip down. And KT’s allowance—” reaching for my empty shot glass. “Two thousand a month! That is what she got for clothes only! Only KT already has so many clothes it is like, why does she need to buy more? Anyway by Christmas for me it was like in the movies where they have the ching-ching and the dollar signs. Phone never stopped ringing. Everybody’s best friend! Girls I never saw before, kissing me, giving me gold jewelry off their own necks! I was doing all the drugs I could do, drugs every day, every night, lines as long as my hand, and still money everywhere. I was like the Scarface of our school! One guy gave me a motorcycle—another guy, a used car. I would go to pick my clothes from off the floor—hundreds of dollars falling out from the pockets—no idea where it came from.” “This is a lot of information, really fast.” “Well, tell me about it! This is my usual learning process. They say experience is good teacher, and normally is true, but I am lucky this experience did not kill me. Now and then… when I have some beers sometimes… I’ll maybe hit a line or two? But mostly I do not like it any more. Burned myself out good. If you had met me maybe five years ago? I was all like—” sucking in his cheeks—“so. But—” the waiter had reappeared with more herring and beer—“enough about all that. You—” he looked me up and down—“what? Doing very nicely for yourself, I’d say?” “All right, I guess.” “Ha!” He leaned back with his arm along the back of the booth. “Funny old world, right? Antiques trade? The old poofter? He got you in to it?” “That’s right.” “Big racket, I heard.” “That’s right.” He eyed me up and down. “You happy?” he said. “Not very.” “Listen, then! I have great idea! Come work for me!” I burst out laughing. “No, not kidding! No no,” he said, shushing me imperiously as I tried to talk over him, pouring me a new shot, sliding the glass across the table to me, “what is he giving you? Serious. I will give you two times.” “No, I like my job—” over-pronouncing the words, was I as wrecked as I sounded?—“I like what I do.” “Yes?” He lifted his glass to me. “Then why aren’t you happy?” “I don’t want to talk about it.” “And why not?” I waved my hand dismissively. “Because—” I’d lost track quite how many shots I’d had. “Just because.” “If not job then—which is it?” He had thrown back his own shot, tossing his head grandly, and started in on the new plate of herring. “Money problems? Girl?” “Neither.” “Girl then,” he said triumphantly. “I knew it.” “Listen—” I drained the rest of my vodka, slapped the table—what a genius I was, I couldn’t stop smiling, I’d had the best idea in years!—“enough of this. Come on—let’s go! I’ve got a big big surprise for you.” “Go?” said Boris, visibly bristling. “Go where?” “Come with me. You’ll see.” “I want to stay here.” “Boris—” He sat back. “Let it go, Potter,” he said, putting his hands up. “Just relax.” “Boris!” I looked at the bar crowd, as if expecting mass outrage, and then back at him. “I’m sick of sitting here! I’ve been here for hours.” “But—” He was annoyed. “I cleared this whole night for you! I had stuff to do! You’re leaving?” “Yes! And you’re coming with me. Because—” I threw my arms out —“you have to see the surprise!” “Surprise?” He threw down his balled-up napkin. “What surprise?” “You’ll find out.” What was the matter with him? Had he forgotten how to have fun? “Now come on, let’s get out of here.” “Why? Now?” “Just because!” The bar room was a dark roar; I’d never felt so sure of myself in my life, so pleased at my own cleverness. “Come on. Drink up!” “Do we really have to do this?” “You’ll be glad. Promise. Come on!” I said, reaching over and shaking his shoulder amicably as I thought. “I mean, no shit, this is a surprise you can’t believe how good.”

He leaned back with folded arms and regarded me suspiciously. “I think you are angry with me.” “Boris, what the fuck.” I was so drunk I stumbled, standing up, and had to catch myself on the table. “Don’t argue. Let’s just go.” “I think it is a mistake to go somewhere with you.” “Oh?” I looked at him with one half closed eye. “You coming, or not?” Boris looked at me coolly. Then he pinched the bridge of his nose and said: “You won’t tell me where we’re going.” “No.” “You won’t mind if my driver takes us then?” “Your driver?” “Sure. He is waiting like two-three blocks away.” “Fuck.” I looked away and laughed. “You have a driver?” “You don’t mind if we go with him, then?” “Why would I?” I said, after a brief pause. Drunk as I was, his manner had brought me up short: he was looking at me with a peculiar, calculating, uninflected quality I had never seen before. Boris tossed back the rest of his vodka and then stood up. “Very well,” he said, twirling an unlit cigarette loosely in his fingertips. “Let’s get this nonsense over with, then.”