#heartbreak weather spoilers

[l-uminescent]

˚⁀➷｡˚ KINSLAYER ━━━ AEMOND TARGARYEN X FEM! READER

part two.

synopsis: rhaenyra’s daughter seeks revenge for the death of her beloved younger brother lucerys velaryon. and what better way to gain it, than from the man she was once betrothed to.

notes: did i steal daemon’s plot? yes. did the reader do it better? also yes. fuck aemond targaryen (who is 22 here) for killing lucerys fr, and fuck tumblr for making me repost this bc they shadowbanned me :(

warnings: reader is rhaenyra’s daughter, angst, violence, mention of blood, future hotd spoiler (battle above the gods eye)

word count: 3.9k

ONCE UPON A TIME YOU HAD THOUGHT YOU HAD KNOWN WHAT LOVE HAD FELT LIKE. being betrothed to none over than aemond targaryen in an attempt to ensure peace between the divided targaryen house, had gave you a sense of hope. the childish crush you had on the one-eyed prince had long exceeded into your adulthood (unbeknownst to you for a long while). and the news that you were to be married to the man you had felt so deeply for, had you thanking the gods that you were to be so lucky. 

for much of your adulthood, you denied the feelings you had for aemond. brushing the giddiness you felt when you were younger off as a fleeting childhood crush. now, the crimson paint that adorned your cheeks you put down to a sense of duty; you had to act the blushing bride in order to do your part for the realm. your mother's constant reminders that it was you who could maintain the peace between dragons, made you believe it was a sense of duty to your house; to prevent the bloodshed and the path to destruction that would follow if blood was spilt. as time went on, you begrudgingly admitted to yourself that maybe, just maybe, the small minuscule crush you had on the prince, in fact never left. you often reflected on the times where you had lived in king's landing with your family, often choosing to spend time with the second son of the king. you two were inseparable, where aemond went you were sure to not be too far behind. often, challenging each other on who would learn the most high valyrian words in a day, and who would learn the history of their ancestors first. it was a match the gods intended.

however, this sue for peace had crumbled completely. only a mere memory in your mind of what could have been if the targayren house was not so ignorant to the fact that women had much of a right to ascend the throne (you had king jaehaerys to uphold much of the blame for this decision). and now, the house was at war with one another. the dance of the dragons was surely to follow, leaving nothing but war across the realm and your poor broken heart.

the death of your brother lucerys did not seem to help with the feeling of heartbreak that effected life upon dragonstone. you spent many days and nights cooped up in your chambers. there was no one to turn too. yes, you sought comfort with your mother but she too was a shell of her former self. with jacaerys many miles north in winterfell, and your husband the murderer of such an innocent boy, you were left with nothing but your own reckless thoughts. as the sun rose in the east and set in the west day after day, your pain and suffering festered into a new, dark feeling within you. the sadness within was replaced with a craving of utter revenge. the lovesick girl, eyes wide with care and awe was shattered, replaced by a woman no, a dragon, who would go to any means to avenge the cruel death of her sweet younger brother. the love you had felt for the man you once were engaged to disappeared the moment you had learnt what he done; marring any chances at evading the war that was surely to follow. you swore to seek revenge with fire and blood. in whatever means the gods meant it to happen. 

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the small council met as the sun lays lazily high in the sky, providing the normally dark and gloomy room with a sliver of light that is often uncommon on the island of dragonstone home to dreary weather most of the time. you welcome the sun in all its glory, soaking it in as you stand next to your brother jacaerys as you listen to the squabbles between the men as they discuss the course of action to take next. small crescents dawned under your eyes, reflecting the many sleepless nights you have come to known. the tiredness you feel currently now and all throughout the days since luke's passing has become an old friend to you, one that is begrudging to leave. you tune out, the effects of another sleepless night and your lack of interest in the bickering that is beginning to fester amongst the lords and your mother is boring you. instead, your eyes are captured by the ball of fire that lay millions of miles away. you weren't all that religious, if it came down to it you preferred the valyrian or old gods in favour of the seven. but there was no doubt the glistening embers that rained upon the room was a good omen. you were sure lucerys was looking down upon you, he adored the few sunny days on dragonstone, and this brought a small smile to your face. 

you hadn't realised just how deep in thought you were until your brothers voice broke you out of whatever hazy trance you were. despite tuning out, you had gathered the basics of the discussion - ser criston cole had set his eyes on rooks rest, and a dragon was needed to defend the castle. jacaerys' proposition to fly vermax was quickly shut down by your mother, deeming the boy as too inexperienced in battle and the dragon too young. 

"i will go." 

the words escaped your lips before you even had a chance to think them through properly. the feeling of revenge running through your veins was more than enough to spark this confident outburst. it had to be you who would go to rooks rest. you did not understand why this feeling was so apparent, whether it be the good omen in the sky, or the smile that had graced your lips for the first time in many moons at the thought of your brother being the one who sent it. but the need to take seat upon your dragon silverwing and fly to rooks rest settled in your soul as a desire you needed to fulfil. you knew immediately your mother would never agree to this, already refusing jacaerys to go meant there was absolutely no possibility she would let you go. 

"no. you too lack the experience that is needed in battle. i will not lose another child to this war." rhaenyra's voice trembled slightly with the mentioning of lucerys but she held strong with her decision to not let either of her elder children fly to battle. the mentioning of luke only feeding the fire in your blood, the need to seek revenge for his passing. 

looking up at your mother, you knew she had understood this as it was plainly evident on your face. alas, rhaenyra could not deny you had your mother's stubbornness and your father's strength. "mother, the entire council knows it is far too dangerous to risk the lives of both you and jace. queen and heir. send me, your grace. silverwing is used to battle and if war and bloodshed is sure to follow with the greens still bot bending the knee to you, then we must become acquainted with it." 

her eyes softened as she gazed upon yours, you reminded her so much of herself in her youth. the fire that burned within you mirrored that of hers. the want to prove yourself as more as weak was apparent, when many men had deemed you fragile due to the gender you were born as, you felt the urge to prove them wrong, just as your mother had felt, still feels with the many lords at the council who still see her as the weaker sex. she knew you were going to fly to battle whether she permitted you leave or not. and with a slight of her head you knew her answer. her lilac eyes gazing into yours with such intensity you knew the message conveyed. be safe, sweet girl.

another voice a the council spoke up, one you weren't expecting to hear. your grandmother, rhaenys. "you must send me as well, your grace. meleys is no stranger to battle, like silverwing. two dragons will be better than one, if the greens decide to also send a dragon to battle."

you were shocked that your grandmother was to fight so willingly for your mother's claim to the throne but yet, the more you pondered the less surprised you were. she too was a woman who should have ascended the throne, the queen who never was, yet king jaehaerys passed over her claim as a count of being weak as she was a woman. gods you hated the man sometimes. 

you were no stranger to the care of your grandmother. she knew straight away that her son was not actually your father, you were born a bastard, fathered to ser harwin strong yet she loved you nevertheless. just as coryls velaryon had favoured young luke, rhaenys, favoured you. your dark her reminded her much of her mother jocelyn baratheon and the way in which you clung to her as a child reminded her so much of leanor. she had grown to love you as you her, and refused to see you alone on the battlefield. 

"come granddaughter, we have much to prepare." rhaenys spoke softly as your mother dismissed the council, guiding you with her hand on the small of your back. giving one last nod to your mother, you notice the look of such fierce love in her. the promise of suffering she would bring if you were hurt. yet, the only thing rhaeynra could do now is pray to the gods above that her only girl would return to her safely. and by the gods she did.

━━━━━━━━━━ *ੈ✩‧₊˚ ━━━━━━━━━

silverwing was just as mesmerising as the day you claimed her at the tender age of  ten and three. her silvery scales often reminded you of the stars that hung from the sky. glistening intently as you often sat at your window deep in thought. such a docile creature, you could not help but fall in love with her kind nature; a dragon who was most friendly to strangers. as you approached her now a small smile once again graced your lips. the she dragon bent down to greet you, pressing her snout to your hand in a sign of understanding. the intelligence of the dragon was also something that had drawn you to her, she was able to sense every emotion you felt. she had known you were grieving and did not hold it against you that you had neglected to visit her. instead, she blew smoke from her nostrils, and you could have sworn she wore a toothy grin. silverwing was glad you had returned to her. 

flying your dragon had somewhat eased the dull ache that seemed to have made a permanent home in your heart. the ocean beneath you and the wind in your hair brought a sense of relief. this was home. you had miss flying your dragon across the realm, watching as the landscape beneath you changed from countryside, to villages, to oceans and to cities. it was freeing. as fast as she was, silverwing was no match for the speed in which meleys, your grandmother's dragon, flew. as she soared effortlessly through the sky, your dragon tried her hardest to keep up. 

"don't push yourself silverwing. meleys is a fast dragon. " you uttered calmingly to your dragon in high valyrian, stroking her scales softly in a show of comfort. oh how you missed speaking the language too. "calm my sweet girl, it will be okay."

as you finally caught up to rhaenys, the two dragons held pace with one another as you surveyed the fields below. ser criston cole's army had been spotted approaching rooks rest. the elder women held your eyes. a message passing through the two of you to get this done as quickly as possible. and with a cry, meleys delved to the army, silverwing not far behind her

a mix of anxiety and adrenaline coursed through your veins. you were petrified at failing the mission and returning to your mother's disappointed face with the castle in the hands of the greens. yet the pure adrenaline of gaining your revenge from those who supported the man who usurped your mother's throne and took your brother urged you to keep going "attack silverwing." you called out causing the dragon to plummet to the ground to attack those below.

the field that was once riddled with soldiers was now nothing but flame and smoke. red heat from the lips of your dragon had engulfed almost the entirety of the battlefield. the flames below you were nothing of the flickering of the candles in dragonstone that brought you comfort. no, the flames you caused mirrored the emotion inside, the intensity of the anger you felt, the betrayal from the man you once loved to cause this amount of pain. 

a sound you had not heard in a long time broke you out of your rage induced comatose. you froze, the greens had come for you. looking up, you recognised the gleaming golden dragon belonging to the usurper king aegon. sunfyre. your anger had only intensified at the man willing himself to fight against you and your grandmother. doubling around the castle, silverwing dipped her sharpened claws into the ocean's water, ensuring a clean cut against sunfyre before rising above the cliffs face, ready for battle. he was no match for that of silverwing and meleys.

despite the adrenaline within, you could not help but worry for your grandmother, as you watched the flames engulf both her and aegon as the dance begun. the women held a dear place in your heart and the image of her being hurt was enough to push you to attack the sun kissed dragon. flying to meet your grandmother, silverwing allowed herself to flip and glide between the flames aimed at you both. the bellows of aegon left a satisfying smirk upon your lips as meleys claws took hold within the belly of the enemy dragon, as you willed silverwing to attack the dragon's wings from above. clawing and scratching at sunfyre, silverwing and meleys both have seemed to have done immense damage to the golden beauty. chunks of the dragons wings had been ripped out and cuts adorned her body, red blood oozing out of her scales. the final blow had been dealt by your grandmother, yet war was far from over as a sickening roar had been heard beyond the trees.

aemond taragaryen had come out to play.

your breath hitched, letting you only to take only shallow breathes as vhagar descended from the trees. you tried to be brave, tried to hold back the tears that were evident in your glassy eyes yet you couldn't. tear drops sprung like rivers cascading down your terror-stricken face as you saw the shining silver hair of the man who had once been the love of your life, and subsequently the reasoning behind all your pain. wrapping the leather reigns that kept you in control of your dragon, you urged her to continue flying around rooks rest. the wind blew harshly as you circled the ashy landscape, drying your tears and making whatever was left stick to your reddened face. as vhagar descended upon the battle in the sky,  hought's swam through your head as you shouted at your dragon to attack, you wished away all feelings of dread. 

in that sliver of calm, you could not help but feel drawn to the sun as it had once again graced you with its appearance. and with lucerys velaryon looking down on you, you knew the gods wanted you to have your revenge in that moment. they had brought aemond to the battle for a reason after all.

flying up to sit side by side with rhaenys, you allowed the hatred in your heart to take over. the fire in your blood burned at the audacity for aemond to dare show his face after all that he had done. 

"it has to be me grandmother." you shouted over the howling winds in high valyrian. the distaste within had spoken clearly, it had to be you who destroyed the man in front of you. you knew rhaneys understood that, but you also knew she carried the same stubborn nature that all targaryen's had come to possess. plowing into vhagar first, it was obvious she was no match for the queen of dragons. sending waves of fire to the boy riding her, melyes took the moment of distraction to tear at the beast's stomach. 

unbeknownst to you, sunfyre had risen again at the sound of vhagar's approach. seeing the flame grown in the dragon's mouth, rhaneys abandoned the attack on the larger dragon, instead focusing on the dragon mere inches from you. ambushing her from the side, meleys' jaws clamp around the neck of the usurper's dragon. in a state of shock, you forced silverwing to the side, gratefulness gracing your features at your saviour. 

nonetheless, it was plain to see that both meleys and silverwing did not hold enough power to over through the two dragon's that had come to fight. with rhaenys preoccupied with the second coming of sunfyre and aegon, it had left you with the battled against  vhagar. having lived centuries you knew that you were no match for her. she had helped with aegon the conqueror's conquest and that alone had gained her much more experience in battle than your dragon would ever come to know.

reality kicked in like a knife to your stomach. understanding what you had to do sent shivers down your spine, but there was no other way.  to kill the dragon you must kill the rider. 

your mind flickered back to the many moments you had spent with aemond over the years. sneaking into one another's chambers at night to tell stories you have read in history books. the days spent in the garden giggling at the idiocy of your family. and as the two of you got older, you recounted the longing gazes in one another's directions, the stammering and blush that rose to your cheeks anytime he was near. the brushing of limbs at the feast as your grandsire had announced the betrothal. 

none of that mattered now. he had made his choice when he decided to slay his kin and you had made yours. 

gazing upon silverwing properly for the last time you spoke quietly "forgive me, comfort my mother when i am gone. i beg of you." the silver beauty squeaked in return, a note of sadness in her tone. she would miss you just as much as she missed queen alyssane, but she would honour your choice gallantly. "fly back to dragonstone when i am gone. i do not wish you to suffer the same fate, my love."

with your mind made up, you willed your dragon to fly to meet aemond and vhagar taking in a shaky breathe as you did. as silverwing glided through the air, her claw's tore through vhagar. nevertheless, the silver beauty had barely left any damage. vhagar's thick skin was almost impenetrable, only small surface wound were left behind from the attacks you inflicted on her. the only thing that kept you alive was your dragon's ability to stray so close to vhagar yet slip effortlessly beyond her reach whenever her jaws made an attempt to kill you both. 

allowing silverwing to deal with vhagar, meant that you were left to deal with her rider; your glassy eyes never leaving  the man who had caused you such suffering. he had grown you noted, his cheeks now hollowed out as if he has been struggling to eat, a dark crescent clear under his one good eye. the hate in your heart weakened, you had almost felt an ounce of sympathy at his obviously heartbroken state. you wondered if he had regretted his actions; had regretted pushing you away. you wondered if he blamed himself for what had happened that night, if he had really meant to kill luke on purpose. but you also knew you would wonder these things for the rest of your life if you let him live. no matter how much remorse he truly felt within you could never forget his actions, the way in which he took pride in what he did, bragging about being the first to spill blood in this horrific war. and that was enough for you to keep fighting.

pulling away from vhagar for a final time, you flew back around the castle unstrapping the saddle you had on silverwing, tossing it to the wind. unstrapping the sword, daemon had given you from your twentieth name day, you held it in your palm with such force that your knuckles began to whiten. as silverwing set her sights on vhagar once more, a final sound of pain came from your dragon as she knew what you had planned to do. knowing there was no way in changing your mind she flew above the dragon and its rider, positioning you perfectly in what you aimed to do. 

holding onto one of the many talons in her back, you allowed yourself to stand upon your dragon's back, the sword still tight in your hand. your eyes had never left that of the icy lilac that sat below you. the mix of fear and understanding stood in his, as he knew what you were about to do a second too late. the shock of realisation came as he tried to unfasten the straps that kept him tied to vhagar. she was too big of a dragon to move in time for what you were about to bestow upon the targaryen prince, and it was too high of a jump for him to survive.  

jumping from your dragon's back you let your mind to once again reflect all the love you had for aemond taragaryen. allowing yourself to find comfort in the fact that you had known love in your lifetime.

and as you drew the sword through him, you felt no remorse. a debt had been payed. revenge had been served. for luke.

but, there was no escaping the torment your heart inflicted upon you in the moment your sword pierced his only good eye. you had thought aemond would hold loathing at what you had done in his final moments, but all he felt was abhorrence for himself. driving you to the point of sorrow and grief where you had felt like you could do nothing more than seek revenge for what he had done. whispering a soft "i love you'' before you had pierced him, gave you the closure you had needed. those three words had answered all the questions that had played over and over in your mind, running rampant through your darkest hours.

the history books recalled that you had died peacefully with no call of a dragon to save you. you had plummeted to the ground with the man you had loved, knowing you had avenged your sweet innocent brother lucerys and had come to learn aemond had regretted his actions dearly. this was truly enough for you to die happily. and that you did.

[saetoru]

✩ ‧₊˚ ✩ APATHY OF THE CHIEF JUSTICE — NEUVILLETTE.

contents. archon quest spoilers, liddol weepy dragon neuvillette :(, established relationships, reverse comfort, lots of kissies 4 him, it’s a bit self indulgent my bad but he’s just a sensitive lil friendly guy who tries his best he makes me sad :(, maybe ooc idrk how to write him yet

it starts raining out of nowhere on a sunny day, hard. you frown—you know exactly what this means, walking up to neuvillette’s office in concern.

“good afternoon, sedene,” you smile, patting the melusine on the head. she leans into your touch happily, content with the small show of affection.

“good afternoon. if you’re here to visit the chief justice, i have to warn you. today, he seems…” sedene trails off, unsure how to finish, and you hum knowingly as you nod.

“i see,” you murmur, “i’ll see if i can help.” you turn and knock on the office door—it’s silent for a moment before you call, “it’s me.”

you hear some shuffling before neuvillette finally answers. it’s a quiet, “come in,” and nothing more. you sigh before entering—that can’t be a good sign.

neuvillette looks…well, devastated. with red rimmed eyes and a slightly pink nose, his cheeks trailed with delicate tears that break your heart. you walk over, cupping his cheek and brushing away a stray tear with your thumb as he closes his eyes.

“what’s got you so upset,” you murmur, “the weather has taken a rather drastic turn, wouldn’t you say?”

he sniffles, the poor thing—it’s as precious as it is heartbreaking. “i believe…i believe i may have made a mistake,” he mumbles, “a terrible one, in fact.”

“oh?” you raise a brow, leaning down and brushing your lips against his forehead soothingly, “i’m sure you’ve done your best, neuvillette.”

“no,” his voice breaks, a fresh round of tears falling past his lash line and staining his skin. you furrow your brows, cupping both sides of his face as your forehead presses to his, “no, i didn’t…i didn’t do what i should have. in fact, i did nothing at all.”

“i’m sure that’s not true,” you reason, “you always do what you can.”

“i could’ve stopped the duel,” he shakes his head, and instantly you know what must be on his mind. “i thought…i thought i understood but i didn’t. i still don’t.”

neuvillette doesn’t understand humans as well as he hopes—it’s changed a bit since you’ve shown up, but their emotions are far too complicated for him sometimes. you help him, sometimes—you try to show him they’re not much different from him, but he’s learning slowly on his own.

you nod slowly at his words, as if you understand, before pressing soft kisses along his face. you scatter them along his cheeks, over the tip of his nose, just at the corners of his mouth and right on the center of his forehead.

he sniffles again, miserably.

“oh, love,” you murmur gently—callas has always been a complicated topic, one you’ve carefully treaded since it’s happened. his lips wobble, and you pull him into you, letting his head rest against your chest as you sit on the armrest of his chair. “callas wasn’t your fault,” you whisper, “none of us could’ve known.”

“i believed he was guilty,” he confesses, “otherwise, why duel? i…i didn’t think he would do it for…”

“and you weren’t alone in your assumptions,” you reason. that doesn’t seem to make him feel any better—in fact, you feel your shirt dampen, and the rain hits the glass of his window harder.

“but i am the chief justice,” he insists, “how i can be so if i let innocent men throw away their lives?”

you’re silent for a bit—it’s difficult to give him an answer. it’s difficult to offer him any solace over something like this. but you do know it’s not his fault—and soon enough, you hope he’ll accept that too.

but until then, you thread your fingers into his hair as you press a chaste kiss to the crown of his head.

“being the chief justice doesn’t mean you have all the answers,” you say quietly, catching a tear as it slips down his cheek with your thumb, “you won’t have all the answers. but you’ll do your best to find them. i think that’s enough.”

“lady navia yelled at me,” he tells you. you want to chuckle a little at the way he says it, like child who’s been scolded—but now is not the time, not when he’s so upset. “a few days ago. because i did not stop it. she…she was right—”

“lady navia is grief stricken,” you interrupt, “you have to understand. she didn’t mean—”

“but i could’ve stopped it—”

“anyone could’ve, neuvillette,” you insist, “lady furina, or even clorinde. but no one knew, and that’s okay. it’s how callas wanted it, i’m afraid.”

he’s silent for a bit, weighs your words as he presses against your chest further, let’s your fingers trail through his hair and stroke along his cheek for a bit.

it rains in fontaine—whenever there is something to mourn, it rains. perhaps the people can know this way that they are not alone in their grief, that there is always something, someone to share the burden of pain with them.

“i’ll visit,” he mumbles after some time, “to pay my respects to mister callas.”

“i think that’s a lovely idea,” you smile, poking the tip of his nose and pulling the tiniest of smiles from him, “would you like me to come?”

“no, i think i should do it alone,” he says thoughtfully, “but thank you.”

you feel his hand grab yours, his fingers lacing with yours as he gives it a small squeeze—perhaps he still has a long way to go to understand humans and their complex emotion. but this one, he thinks he understands well enough.

he loves you, just as much as you love him—it’s simple enough to understand.

my lil cinnamon roll :( my emotional liddol weepy dragon :(

[empty-vessel-of-a-person]

Final Thoughts About Partner Go Go Episode (Post Entwined Shadows Event Review)

Note: This is my review and unbiased thoughts and opinion about the Partner Episode not the Actual Memory) May Contains Spoilers! You are Warned!!!!

Zayne

My Suspicions are correct. They are indeed officially dating! Zayne hinted this by saying, "Besides, don't you think we're in a good spot at the moment?"

Their moments are not forced or awkward hinting they are already comfortable around each other.

M/C sits on Zayne's lap and kiss his ear!!!!!!! Oh my gosh!!! And the fact that on previous memories they are sleeping on the same bed! And not just once!

M/C also is staying the night at his place (Source: Heartwork Routine Event) Zayne mentioned that M/C is so sincere praying for a good weather last night and they arrive together at the event. Oh my gosh Zayne!

But, let's go to the story itself. It's kinda boring. The scape room is dull. If they show that cure puppy dog eye Zayne when he is captured, at least I have something to go gaga for. As for the pottery session is sweet. Zayne is kinda stoic at time and him initiating the heart finger print design on their cup shows that he really loves M/C and is not afraid to be sappy at times.

The Story Ending was great! They lure Heartbreaker without forcing themselves or pretending because their relationship and love it true. They are so sweet and eager to be in each other's embrace and even poetically say I Love You to each other. This really warms my heart.

Xavier

I am quite disappointed his story. It's kinda feel like him and M/C are back to square one. M/C is lowkey hesitant to be around him. In his 21 days memory, M/C doesn't know anything about him as there is not much information on his profile.

M/C is also low key weirded by Xavier's action special on the prelude.

The story as a whole is like a sleepover with a girl friend. Trying new things and getting to know each other.

Xavier also feels like trying to flirt with M/C to no avail. It seems that M/C guard is always up. I think she somehow did enjoy her time with Xavier but the story leans heavier to defeating Heartbreaker than Xavier and M/C actually improving their relation.

Xavier is like a puppy needing attention. He is still though.

Rafayel

I am a Zayne Girlie, but gosh but Rafayel's story is so good. I really enjoy his episode and ended up watching it all 6 times in a row.

In his story we see a very determined yet anxious Rafayel. He is a natural flirt but he backs down and get shy easily when the real thing is about to happen. He is definitely a cute Braised Fish.

He is a perfectionist. He wants every experience he is giving M?C should more than perfect. The almost kiss had my heart racing.

He is a true gentleman. Putting M/C feeling's first before his desires. I am sure he longs to touch and kiss M/C but he will always make sure to ask her if she is comfortable before he does anything.

Sadly, this confirms that they are not in a relationship yet. Although M/C is more relaxed with him than with Xavier, having different rooms indicates that they are not in that spot yet.

The best part of the story is Rafayel's eagerness to show his desire to be with M/C and his genuine desire to be close to her.

Final Thoughts

I like Rafayel's story best.

Zayne is definitely the best in handling relationship. Although he is not very showy, he does not lie when it comes to his feelings and is patient with M/C's antics.

Xavier is hot and cold. M/C is definitely having second thoughts or maybe view him more as a friend and work partner than a romantic partner.

Zayne and M/C is definitely in relationship.

Rafayel and M/C is in pre-relationship.

Xavier and M/C being bestie. (>.<) just kidding. Maybe like they are still testing the waters and/or M/C still analyzing her feelings for him.

(Youtube Video Link) Entwined Shadow Event | Partner Go Go Episode With M/C Voice over:

Zayne Xavier Rafayel

[antiphilosophia]

Crowley's pre-fall name is BARAQIEL (THEORY)

THIS POST MAY CONTAIN SPOILERS OR RATHER CLUES FOR GOOD OMENS SEASON 2 CONTENTS, PROCEED WITH CAUTION 🤍

Very well. Who doesn't love the Crowley is the Archangel Raphael theory (I am certainly of those people who do). During my first watch of Good Omens S2 I was even somehow almost confident that that was the case.

However, my second, more careful, viewing of this lovely (but equally heartbreaking) season made me change my mind, likely for good. In episode 4, Furfur's book "Demon's Guide To Angelic Beings Who Walk The Earth" shows us a name of a certain angel Baraqiel. (see photo below) Knowing Good Omens that can hardly be a coincidence.

Unfortunately, the very text is quite unreadable. One thing, other than the name, which is pretty clear is the subheading "Angel of the Sky" and since the episode 1 lets us take a look at how Crowley did indeed take part in creation of what is to be seen in the night sky, one can hardly find that entirely non-fitting. One other sentence I was (at least I think) able to read is "Often draped in red."

(On a different note but certainly worth noticing are scribbles that generally just roast Crowley – his suspiciousness, hair and name (though I am not absolutely sure of the latter) "His hair is bad!" Wow, Furfur really does hate Crowley.)

Then there is something written above the name of Baraqiel, unfortunately in none of the picture frames does it get a bit readable. I wonder though, couldn't it be "former"? Since it comes precisely after mention of Crowley to whom should one report on Aziraphale.

Crowley is very powerful. Dominion

A word that is not exactly readable but can be deduced from its placement (it is situated just as Aziraphale's "Principality") is Baraqiel's rank – Dominion Angel. It should be noted here that I very much lack proper knowledge of either Jewish or Christian mythology and I would hate to provide any incorrect claims. I therefore think it is better for me not to overly state things, even more so since everyone can look into it on their own and figure out what that might mean for our beloved demon. What I will say, however, is that they are (as I understand it) very powerful and, placed within the 2nd triad in the angel hierarchy, ranked higher than the Archangels. This would go well along with the emphasis that was in my opinion laid on Crowley's powers quite a lot this season.

For example: "A miracle of enormous power happened last night. The kind of miracle only the mightiest of archangels could've performed," said Shax to Crowley, to which he replied: "How'd you know I didn't do it?" He didn't get an answer.

What I think (and I may be very wrong, obviously) is that a miracle of this vastness wouldn't have happened simply because of a regular angel and a regular demon did together half a miracle each. What is also worth noticing is that the tool with which Crowley created the Nebula is the same as the one he used to temporarily stop time at the end of season 1 right before Satan's arrival. So much to the size of his powers.

Baraqiel, lightning of God. Fallen angel

Finally, to Baraqiel himself. My lack of knowledge concerning this matter still stands and frankly I don't even know where to find valid information about angels and such on the internet. Baraqiel should, however, stand for "lightning of God" and is also regarded as the angel of lightning. In season 2 there are (as far as I remember) two occasions where Crowley is put in correlation with lightning. (1) His poor anger management issues in episode 1 and (2) his not at all better matchmaking in episode 3 ("I haven't done weather in ages"). Furthermore, Baraqiel is considered to be the one who taught astrology to people. Nevertheless, what points to Crowley and Baraqiel being one even more is that Baraqiel is indeed a fallen angel.

•

So... That is probably it. I usually tent to theorize about stuff in quiet, in fact, this is the first time I've used Tumblr for anything other than reading Neil Gaiman's posts. I didn't even think that I would actually post it but then I've searched on Twitter, TikTok and here on Tumblr if anyone else has already come up with this theory. The only post I could find (hopefully I haven't missed anything) was by @valaza_04 on Twitter (click here) where they refer to the same frame shot as I do here.

Now I know, we are still recovering from heartbreaking (but if you ask me, absolutely amazing) finale and the main thing currently on our minds is figuring out why would Aziraphale choose as he did and the many wonderful theories that come with it. However, considering the utterly virulent look that Metatron shot at Crowley before walking out of the bookshop with Aziraphale and also his "Well, [Crowley] always did want to go his own way. Always asking damn fool questions, too." makes me think that he absolutely does not care for Crowley and whichever angel he was before the Fall. And I reckon it won't remain unnoticed in season 3 and might even be really important (or that is just me wishing for more pre-fall Crowley scenes). Hence I decided that I will post this. And it doesn't matter if no one will see this in the end, it was quite fun to write. However, if there is someone who will read this all the way through, I hope they will accept my apology for the mistakes I have most possibly made (English is not my first language) and also for the ridiculous length this post has come to gather. It turns out, I am just as chatty of a writer as I am speaker.

Well maybe I will come around to write one more post about this theory, only with a proper research this time. Till then thank you and, please, support this season by streaming as much as you can so we can have season 3 of this masterpiece of a show. And be kind to those bringing it to us in your comments regarding the ending, even though it is very frustrating and heart-shattering, it is also maybe the best ending we could have hoped for with the prospects of season 3.

Thank you for letting me talk my heart out, Tumblr.

[cyripticchronicler]

Ink and Destiny - Part 3

A/N: Sorry for the wait! I've had a hectic week. Thank you for all the support with my writing, I love you all ahhh.

@lilianelena39 Thank you for asking to be tagged! I hope you like it.

Masterlist

Part one Part two Part four

The days that followed were filled with shy touches and hidden smiles. It’s only been a week since you went on that date with James, and it hasn’t left your mind since. 

After eating, he’d ask you to read to him, you spent the rest of the date muttering the love story to James as he lay on his back, making comments now and then. 

The awkwardness of the first date was long gone, and you found yourself growing comfortable around him. He seemed more comfortable around you too, with the way he gripped your hand tightly in his or the way he relentlessly teased you. 

You were still quiet, barely muttering a few words but James filled in the silence. 

He was holding your hand now, you two having run into each other whilst you were on your way to the owlery. James had decided to ditch Sirius and Remus, claiming you were much nicer than them- earning a giggle from you and a scowl from Sirius. 

“You never finished that book,” James muttered, breaking the peaceful silence. 

“I didn’t know you wanted to know the ending,” You said honestly, James looked genuinely offended and you had to bite back a smile. 

“Of course I do, the letter was heartbreaking.” 

You grinned, “Well if you must know, he proposes again and she accepts.”

He let go of your hand, placing his hands over his ears as if it could erase what he just heard. “Spoilers!” 

You couldn't help the laugh that burst out of you, “The book came out years ago! There are spoilers everywhere!”

“Yes, but I was trying to hint at another date where you read to me again but I guess that’s not possible since you’ve told me the ending.” He grumbles, feigning anger as he reaches for your hand again. 

“Well…I never told you what happened to the others.”

He took the bait, “I am dying to know what happens with the others, so maybe if you’re up to it we could go on another date, say, this Saturday?” 

You pretended to think for a moment, “Saturday, hmm, I’m not sure.”

You both stop at the entrance of the owlery, James pulling you into him slightly. You couldn’t stop the blush painting your cheeks.

He’s never touched you like that before.

“I’ll beg if you want,” He whispers, laughing when you playfully hit his arm, cheeks redder than a tomato. 

“No begging is needed. Saturday is fine.” It left you three days to plan your outfit and mentally prepare. 

James grins triumphantly, following you around the owlery, hand still gently placed on your waist. 

—

You stared at the wobbly heart drawn on the inside of your wrist. You hadn’t noticed when it appeared but your eyes can’t look away. 

Not all soulmates are together romantically, sometimes they are platonic soulmates, hell, on rare occasions they’re enemies who despise each other. 

But there’s a part of you that hopes you and James are romantic soulmates. There’s also a part of you that’s still unsure about him. You two are complete opposites, you’re quiet, he’s loud, and you shrink away at any attention on you whereas James thrives in it. 

“Opposites attract, it’s basic science in the muggle world.” Lily had reassured you when you voiced your concerns. Maybe she was right. Merlin, you hoped she was right. 

But you push those thoughts away for now, noting you only have half an hour to finish getting ready. You’ll talk to James about your thoughts. If there’s one thing you hate most in romance books it is the miscommunication trope. 

You hastily draw a sloppy heart back before returning to your makeup. You keep it simple, applying a couple of coats of mascara and some concealer before adding lipgloss. 

Your outfit is simple, black jeans and the top you feel most comfortable in, paired with a thick coat to keep out the cold weather. 

You reach The Three Broomsticks in no time, relishing in the warmth. Noting James isn’t here yet, you find a secluded table in the corner.

A minute later James walks through the door, nose red from the cold. He perks up when he spots you, smiling warmly and he takes the seat across from you. 

You notice the heart on his wrist as he sits, his coat pulled up like he was staring at it just a moment ago. 

“You always seem to be here earlier than me, perhaps on our second date I’ll arrive an hour early to beat you.” Your heart flutters at the thought of him already planning a second date.

You’re silent, mind racing for something snarky to respond with. James doesn’t seem bothered by your silence, instead asks you if you’d like a butterbeer and you nod your head gratefully. 

You take the time he’s gone to calm your thoughts. It seems as if you haven’t pushed those thoughts from before down far enough.

“The weather has changed drastically since our first date, don’t you think?” James asks as he sits back down. You nod your head. Just two weeks ago you were wearing dresses but now it seems as if it’s going to snow at any moment. 

 “Climate change.” You respond dumbly. 

“I hope you brought the book with you, maybe we could find a quiet place for you to read for me. Or we could head back to the common room and you read to me there.”

You shake your head, “I couldn’t bring it, I didn’t want to risk bending it by putting it in a bag but didn’t want to risk getting it wet either.”

James seemed disappointed, “Later then, when we get back.”

You nod your head dumbly. 

“Are you okay? You’re awfully quiet.” James’s eyes shine with amusement, a hint of concern peeking through. 

“Do you think we’d be happy together?” You blurt, taking a sip of the butterbeer to busy your fidgeting hands. 

“Yes,” James answers honestly, with no hesitation. “Do you not…think we’d be happy together?” He asks rather nervously. 

“We’re quite different from each other.”

He ponders for a moment, “Different isn’t always a bad thing, Love. We balance each other out.”

“Oh.” You’ve never thought of it from that perspective. Awkwardly taking a sip of your drink, you meet James’s eyes. “I just… I’m not used to attention- I hate it actually- and you’re popular so I can’t help but think once everyone finds out we’re dating they’re going to pay more attention to me.”

You’ve only met a couple of times since the first date, and besides the walk to the owlery, it was in secrecy. 

“We don’t have to tell people straight away- whatever this is. It can be our little secret, for now, Love. Is there anything else worrying you?” 

You shake your head. “It’s not very secretive if we’re sitting together in broad daylight in one of the most popular stores in Hogsmeade.”

He drains the rest of his drink, “I guess we’ll have to find somewhere else to go. Come with me.” You don’t miss the glint of mischief in his eyes but go to follow him anyway. 

“Where are we going?” You whisper, desperately trying to catch up as he runs through the snow. He stops a few minutes later and you attempt to catch your breath as you examine your surroundings. 

“Where are we?” You ask when you don’t recognise the place. There's nothing and no one around, just the path you came from.

“You’re not going to murder me are you?” 

James laughs, stalking closer, “I don’t plan on it, no. I’m rather fond of you.” 

Your heart skips a beat, “Even if we’re so different?” 

He nods, a small smile painting his face as he wraps his arms around your waist. “Of course, my Love. It would just be boring if we were so alike.” 

You nod your head in agreement, “It would, wouldn't it?” Ever so slowly, you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer as one of his hands go to hold your jaw. 

His lips touch yours and like last time they’re soft and warm but unlike before, the kiss is filled with hunger.

He pulls you closer against him and you moan, tangling your fingers in his hair. James immediately deepens the kiss, tongue swiping across yours and you pull away in shock. 

He doesn’t let you go far, nose burrowing into your neck, “I’m sorry, Love. You just taste so good.” 

“Oh,” you whisper, breathless.

He laughs, “Yeah, Oh.”

—-

“That's how it ends?” James asks you, peering up from where his head lays on your lap, your hand threading through his soft curls. 

You’re laying on your bed. The common room was too busy and James stated the boys would just bother them if they went to his room so you shyly offered to read to him in your room.

The girls were all doing their own thing tonight, thankfully giving you and James time alone. 

You immediately thought of other things you could be doing alone but James seemed determined to hear the rest of the book and you weren't sure you wanted to do those activities with him yet. 

“I don’t get why that’s your favourite book,” At your offended look he continues, “Sorry, Love, but that's such a bad ending.”

You laugh incredulously, “It’s not a bad ending! They end up happy and in love.”

“You’re such a hopeless romantic,” He jokes and you roll your eyes. 

“If you’re not a hopeless romantic then I want you to leave right now.” You point to the door playfully and James leans up, face inches from yours. 

“I’ll become a hopeless romantic for you,” He mutters, looking at your lips. 

“Good.” You push him off the bed and he groans in fake pain. “Go to bed, the girls will be back soon and I’ll never hear the end of it if they spot James Potter in my bed.”

“Fine. I want to see you soon though, maybe after the Quiddich game next week?” 

“Won’t you be too busy celebrating the win?” 

“You think we’re going to win?” He asks, happiness and shyness clear in his voice. His cheeks turn red when you nod, “I can think of other ways to celebrate the win with you, Love.” 

You roll your eyes, playfully pushing his shoulder. “Go.”

He taps his lips and you can’t help but blush. You mean for it to be a quick peck but James has other ideas, tilting your head as he kisses you deeply. 

He places an open-mouthed kiss on your neck before leaving with a quick wink. 

As soon as the door closes you let out a squeal, kicking your feet as you hug your pillow to your chest tightly. 

“I heard that.” James’s voice resonates through the door. 

Your cheeks flush, “Go away.” 

His footsteps fade and you relax into your bed.

It’s only until the next morning that you notice the words on your wrist.

I’m kicking my feelings and squealing about you too. Not so different after all.

[extra-v1rgin]

☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・°☆

A/N: For the foreseeable future this will be my last installment in the Tomioka’s wife series. Reading the other parts is encouraged but not necessary. You can find all other parts on my masterlist

Also this took like 7 different drafts until I could write something I like so y’all better be thankful!! (/lh)

This work contains vague spoilers for the end of kny

Cw warnings for quick references to death, ptsd, and an amputee written by an abled body writer (though I tried my best)

☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・°☆

Sex with one arm is a lot harder than either of you expected. You offered to sit on his lap, or that you could each lie on your side, but Giyuu insists on doing this “properly” (in his words).

It’s difficult though. Tomioka keeps moving to lean on his absent arm before crashing into you. He can’t even get his dick in before knocking his forehead into yours. Your love for your husband is everlasting, but your patience during sex is not.

“Giyuu.” You slide out from under him. “C’mon let’s take a break.” The look on his face is a little heartbreaking but your temple is still throbbing.

Tomioka presses a soft kiss to your chin. “I can do better.” He can’t pull you back underneath himself while also remaining upright so instead the man crawls towards you.

You eagerly return his kisses despite the sadness you can taste on his lips. Giyuu is never unappealing, but you’d be lying if you said you were the least bit turned on right now. “It’s late. Why don’t we hop in the bath?” You know you’re not clever with how you avoid his propositions. Even if you tried your hardest Giyuu would be able to see through your words.

He nods and doesn’t push any further. Tomioka can’t hide the sense of rejection he feels. You try to offer a few calming words but they don’t clear his misty eyes. It feels like a knife twisting inside your gut.

You let him wait in the room while you prepare the bath. The lack of his presence by your side is simultaneously relieving and sickening. It’s the same hesitant awkwardness that was present when you first got married, except ten-thousand times worse because of how intimately you now know him. A few tears slip down your cheeks but thankfully they don’t develop into anything more.

“Giyuu, the water is ready.” His back is to you. The man is staring at his sword propped up in the corner of the room. It only sits there because you didn’t know what to do upon receiving it, and Tomioka himself seems reluctant to touch it. “Giyuu…” He turns this time, obediently following you to the bathroom. “Do you want me to do your wrappings?” It’s not really a question when you’re already moving to unwind the gauze. He sits patiently while you reveal the remainder of his arm. It’s mostly healed now, but there’s a few scabs that haven’t disappeared yet along with all kinds of colorful bruising that paints his stump in greens and purples. It’s an unpleasant sight, but you’re reverent as you run your fingers over the delicate skin. Tomioka doesn’t look at the length of his arm. There’s a conversation there that you don’t know how to start.

Thankfully the bath does seem to relax him slightly. Even after weeks of rest and only gentle work there’s still so much tension in his muscles. It only seems to lessen in the warm water with you.

“How was your day?” It was the first time you left the man alone in the house since his arrival. You invited him to help you with some shopping but unsurprisingly that offer was rejected.

“Fine.”

“What did you do?”

He ponders the question for far too long. Usually Giyuu just follows you around the house while you clean or cook or just sit quietly. “…I went for a walk, outside.”

“Good, the weather’s been nice lately. Is that all you did?” You try to keep your tone casual.

“I looked at my uniform, since you cleaned it, but-“ The words fall out all at once before coming to a halt. Behind you, you can feel how quickly his heart starts beating.

After a few seconds of silence, when it’s clear he won’t say anything more, you shift to face him.

Giyuu isn’t crying but his eyes are glazed over. They don’t focus even when you move to cup his chin. “I can fix it. I know you said I didn’t have to but if you’ve changed your mind I can.”

“It’s not that. I’m not sure what to do with it now.” The only thing he’s managed to decide upon is his haori. After stitching it together from scraps (for maybe the thousandth time) it moved to the small shrine dedicated to Tsutako and Sabito and a few other new faces. Admittedly it feels odd for the familiar pattern to be absent from his body.

“You don’t have to decide now. We can keep it in the closet or packed away for however long you’d like.”

He falls quiet again. The man looks a little less sad, but not by much. When he leans down to press a kiss against your palm you manage a wry smile. “I’m glad you’re here.” His eyes brighten as they finally focus on you. The statement prompts a real smile to blossom on your face alongside heat rushing to your cheeks. You lean forward to give him a real kiss, not too chaste and not too forceful. It’s something simple.

“I love you a lot. I know things are weird, so much good and some hard things getting muddled together. I hope I’m not making you feel bad with, with the sex and-“

“It’s fine. I don’t know why I-“ His voice cracks. “-Why I keep pushing for it.”

“I love you,” you repeat. “And I’m glad to see you home. Though we should both find hobbies maybe.” You put another smile onto his lips.

“The bath is getting cold.”

“It feels like we only have productive conversations in here though.” It’s proven in the way neither of you leap to get out. You’re content to leech off of Giyuu’s body head and occasionally shiver.

Eventually though all the excuses in the world can’t keep you in the cold water. With a sigh you’re forced to step out and shiver on the bare tile. You grin at Giyuu from behind your wet dripping hair. He fetches robes for the both of you. Meanwhile you go to the counter a pull out a medical ointment for the remaining cuts and bruises on your husbands figure. It has a wonderful earthy smell and makes his skin baby soft. You’re convinced Urokodaki could make a fortune if he started advertising the mixture to women.

Though you lament your calloused hands you keep the salve closed until Giyuu offers you a robe and takes a seat. While you cover yourself he remains nude. With scrapes and bumps all over his body the robe would just become a nuisance.

“I can do it myself if you’d like.” It must be the hundredth time Tomioka has made the offer and as always you’re quick to refuse. You’re doubtful he could get all the spots necessary with just his good arm, but also because you enjoy giving back to the man. He’s given up so much of his body and mind, both to you and the world. Watching his eyes relax as you paint the ointment over his skin is a welcome sight. You focus first on the smaller wounds, scratches on his chest and back. Even with fresh scares you move lightly as to not disrupt the delicate skin as it mends itself.

Finally you move onto Giyuu’s biggest wound. The leftover stump of his arm is twisted and bumpy. You have to work carefully to cover all the dips and bumps in the skin. The green salve also helps to cover the ugly purple and blue bruising. Though the white bandaging truly cleans everything up. You wind it tightly around his bicep to put pressure on the swelling. You can tell he’s trying not to react but you notice how he breathes out carefully.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine. You have to do it.” But you still notice how his shoulders relax when you pull away. You put the ointment away and help him tie the robe.

“Want me to help with your hair too?”

“I can manage.” You know his short hair is easier to sort through but you miss combing through his long locks at night. On occasion he’d even let you plait it and see the waves it formed in the morning.

“Alright.” You press a light kiss to his cheek. “I’ll get the futon all neat again. Don’t take too long.” You’re aware he’ll probably linger for a bit. You can’t remember if Tomioka seemed quite so distracted before.

Still you don’t want to be overbearing so you leave him on his own. You go back to the bedroom and fix the rumpled bedding. While Giyuu is doing whatever he pleases you tale the opportunity to claim your spot and get comfortable.

When the man joins you you’re already snuggled up and half-asleep. Though you eagerly reach for your husband as he comes into view.

“You’re always so warm.” As Giyuu climbs into bed you pull him closer and tuck yourself into the opening of his robe. Like this you can soak up the heat that seems to radiate from his skin constantly. Your cold fingers worm their way down his front to rest against his abs. You almost feel bad as his muscles stiffen in reaction to your frigid digits.

“And you’re always freezing. You need to wear your gloves more often.” He huffs in annoyance but as his arms curl around your backside you know he can’t be too mad.

You wiggle upwards to sit face to face with Tomioka. “Goodnight handsome.” You mumble the words against his lips in-between gentle kisses.

He hums a muffled reply because you’ve already gone back to hiding your face in his neck. But you’re happy to assume it’s a wonderful confession of love to give you sweet dreams before you get dragged to sleep.

—-

Giyuu hasn’t quite gotten used to normal living yet. He wakes up far too early and with nothing to do the man will either hold you until you wake, or wander around the house aimlessly. Today you’re happy to see he’s chosen the latter. It may seem contradictory, but if he stays with you then you’re slow to wake and even slower to get out of bed.

There’s also the unspoken issue of his struggle to dress himself. You’re not surprised that he isn’t used to getting dressed with only one hand available, but you are surprised that he’s so resistant to your help. Every morning you watch him struggle to button his shirt and buckle his belt. How could you not offer to help? Anytime you reach out though he seems more frustrated than relieved. Even when you don’t help it seems like he can’t bare your gentle looks.

When you find Tomioka his buttons will probably be lopsided and the loose sleeve will have gotten messy somehow but at least he won’t start the day off with a sour attitude.

So after getting ready yourself you set off to find the man. It’s warm outside so you check the engawa first, passing by the koi pond and rock garden. (Both of which you should probably take better care of. At least now you can possible pass off some of the responsibility onto Giyuu.)

He’s not outside so you check inside and then go back out when you still can’t find him. It takes too many passes in and out but finally you spot him through a clearing in the trees. Tomioka moves slowly with the bokken, repeating familiar motions. Before when you watched him train the motions were quicker. Giyuu moved before to push himself to his limits. Now the movements are more like a dance. The point of his sword traces the sky slowly.

You stop at the edge of the clearing to observe him. Your husband is shirtless which means you get the opportunity to admire his figure. Vaguely you recognize the patterns. It’s not exactly clear where one strike ends and another begins but a few unique movements break up the swinging.

He repeats the dance maybe 2 or 3 more times. Giyuu doesn’t acknowledge your presence but you’re smart enough to know that he must see you. You’re happy to stand and watch until he’s done. Hypothetically his stamina is enough to last hours but even his most intense sessions rarely last that long. After maybe 20 minutes he begins to slow down before coming to a stop. You feel like clapping but you know that’d be embarrassing for both you and him.

Tomioka comes over and leans on your shoulder. He drops the bokken and wraps a strong arm around your frame. The man is a little sweaty but you don’t mind.

“How are you today?” You can predict his answer. If he’s actually doing something with his time then it’s a good sign.

“Hungry,” He mumbles into your hair.

“Well breakfast would’ve been ready if I didn’t come searching for you.”

“Sorry.”

“It’s fine! You can help me now, or watch. You must be tired.”

“I’ll help.” He pulls away from you to fetch his shirt. It’s one of the few you haven’t hemmed to match his shortened arm. Before he can say anything you knot the loose fabric and fold the ends up a few times. If he really intends to help then you can’t deal with the empty sleeve dragging over the counters.

You pull back to soak in his appearance now. His shirt is a button up, a struggle with one hand but he’s managed it nicely. You tug at his collar to straighten it out.

“I buttoned it before putting it on this time.” There’s a slight shyness to his voice. His eyes look at your cheeks instead of your eyes.

A surprised laugh bubbles from your chest. “You’re so smart.” You tug him towards you for a quick kiss.

Giyuu blushes. He’s been more receptive to your words lately, at least more visible in how he reacts. It’s a shame as you had just been getting used to reading his expressions. His blush is pretty though so you can live with the difference.

You drag him indoors and direct him to start on some rice. Slowly you’ve been coaching Giyuu on how to cook food that’s flavorful and more complex but he hasn’t made too much progress yet. It’s not that he’s bad at cooking, but rather that he can only cook the same rotation of a few simple dishes over and over.

Still he manages to hold his own with the sides while you focus on grilling some fish. It’s not much a proper breakfast but Giyuu eats 3 servings if you make something lighter like porridge or pastries. You like the more savory tastings too.

With both of you working it’s a quick process after which you enjoy a quick breakfast. Tomioka doesn’t talk that much more compared to the before version of him that sticks in your mind. It’s nice, the parts of him that feel the same. The different parts are good too just strange.

“I’m feeding the koi today. That doesn’t sound like much of a chore but I like enjoying a meal out there as well.”

Giyuu nods. “I’ll join you.”

“And afterwards I want help reorganizing the guest rooms. They should be more permanent. Everyone else is settling down now too but afterwards I hope we get more visitors.”

“Like who?” He asks it like it’s an actual question.

“Urokodaki-san, Uzui-san and his wives, whoever Tanjiro-kun hangs around with.” You’ve heard stories of the redhead’s friends and you’re still not sure if you want to meet them but they are welcome anyways. “And if you try to keep anyone out then I’ll invite them myself.”

You can tell there’s a disagreement hiding in the back of his throat so instead Tomioka keeps his mouth shut and bows his head.

“And they all like you too. It’s not me they’d be coming to see.”

With that breakfast ends.

—-

The days start to move more smoothly. Giyuu figures out how to dress himself and doesn’t complain when you do step in to help. He doesn’t drop his chopsticks anymore although plenty of rice still gets stuck on his cheeks. You think his practice (maybe not practice because there’s no need for a performance now) with the bokken is helpful. You’re no expert but you can see how his balance has shifted.

You do get a few visitors too. Your parents visit once. It’s the first time they’ve been by in the year or two you’ve been together. You don’t mind the fact now that they married you off. It’s not a rare fate and things ended up better because of that anyhow. You’re still glad that they don’t stay for too long though.

The rest of your guests are livelier. Suma announces that she’s pregnant and you all celebrate over a bottle of sake. You’re not sure how the three women will share the mothering duties but Makio and Hinatsuru seem just as happy as Tengen is. At some point someone asks when it’ll be your turn and while you’re happy to laugh off the half-joke half-question Giyuu’s face turns the color of the salmon you’re sharing. Even the next day you think his cheeks are still tinted pink.

You get lots of letters from Tanjiro but it seems like his group is too busy to justify a trip. They’re only a day or so away however and a housewarming will be a great reason to visit in a month or so. Even Tomioka seems to look forward to the idea of seeing the boy.

Some people stop by as they travel. A lot of them you’re not familiar with. Mostly they’re corps members who were in the lower ranks. You know you won’t see the majority of them again but it’s nice to meet them and dine for the night. It’s a good kind of change, keeps you from getting bored, but rare enough of an occurrence that you don’t feel too on edge.

You introduce Giyuu to some of the people in the town when he starts accompanying you. It’s true that most people there are acquaintances at best but they’re kind (and of course curious). Everyone stares when he carries loads of rice in one arm. Now that he’s nearly healed it’s easy for him to show off his strength.

You track time by Giyuu’s wounds. You’re only bandaging his arm now and only because the pressure quiets the ghost pains that creep up the limb. All his skin is smooth and pale, interrupted by the occasional scar. It’s an even tone though and unmarred by any bruises or knots.

He’s somewhat adapted to the loss of his arm by now. Most things come easier now, dressing and helping with chores. Chopsticks are still a struggle and his writing is hardly any more legible but it’s slowly improving.

And it seems with how things have stabilized that Giyuu wants to try fucking you again. After your last rejection he hadn’t brought up the idea again. Kisses had stayed soft and slow, lasting only a second or two. His hand held your arm or waist but never slipped down past the small of your back.

Tonight though you can already see how forward he is. His lips meet yours already open, tongue immediately sliding into your mouth. You meet him eagerly. Your hands wrap around his neck and rub against the ends of his hair.

After only a moment he pushes further. It’s easy for Giyuu to tempt you backwards. His weight on top of you makes his boner incredibly apparent. You’re unashamed as you buck upwards, grinding against it.

Though you easily give into the way his hands dance around your waist and ass there’s hesitation when they move back up and try to peel away your kimono.

“Giyuu, do you really want this? I do but only if you’re not gonna… get frustrated.” You wince at the harsh language. You are not a statue of patience yourself.

“Do you want it?”

“Yes, A lot. I want you so badly. But I wanna do it right y’know. Or I want you to enjoy it… I dunno. I’m not good at expressing my thoughts like this.” You end with a nervous laugh that bleeds into a kiss as Giyuu tries to quiet your worries.

With nothing else to say the kisses morph into something more heated. Your hand slips into Giyuu’s hair. He keeps trying to move down to your neck or chest but you’re hesitant to let him leave your face so soon. Occasionally his eyelashes flutter against your own while his nose keeps bumping against your cheek.

Eventually you let him have his way with you. As his moves downwards you help him to slip off your simple yukata, exposing your breasts.

You didn’t mind the waiting before. There were more important things to focus on and the thought of sex faded to the background. Now all the weeks of nothing that didn’t seem to matter before are rushing in. Your body feels like it’s on fire wherever his lips move. Every touch sends waves of arousal straight to your cunt. It’s barely been five minutes and you’re chanting Giyuu’s name like you’re about to cum.

When he pulls back from your breasts his lips are soft pink and wet with drool. You pull him in for a few more kisses while he continues to fondle you. He has to practically pin you down to get away again.

The man is careful with his weight. When he needs to use his hand for something Tomioka has to shift his weight onto his legs. It lengthens things in the best (worst) of ways. Right before he pulls your fundoshi off you must wait and twitch while the man gets in a proper position. It’s even worse when his fingers trace over your abdomen so slowly. Tomioka moves his digits right around your pussy instead of over it despite how your hips jerk towards the touch. Eventually he drags your fundoshi off and throws it to the side.

With your cunt exposed you feel shy. For a long time the embarrassment of sex and nudity had gone away as it became commonplace. The way Tomioka looks at you now however is shameful. His eyes are hungry as they sink down close to your cunt.

When he moves forward his mouth is equally ravenous. His fingers have already felt how wet you are so he wastes no more time with teasing. Tomioka sinks his teeth into the meet of your cunt. While fangs pull his tongue pushes and enters your tender core. With a breathy sigh you try to relax into the sheets. Though your body continually tenses you turn your focus to the feeling of the soft futon below you. If you lean into Giyuu’s touch too much you know he’ll make you cum within minutes. This is something you want to draw out, enjoy.

The first few minutes of Tomioka eating you out are pleasant, soothing even. After attaching himself to you the man has calmed somewhat. It feels less like he’s trying to suck out your soul and more like a slow pattern of movements. His tongue spears into your cunt, moves upwards to trace around your clit, and then back down so he can press wet kisses over your hole until the cycle continues.

Eventually your grip on his hair loosens. As it stretches from ten to twenty to thirty minutes all the sensation around your pussy melts together. It’s not boring— Giyuu’s body against yours will never be —but the level of stimulation has plateaued.

“Mmm ‘Yuu baby I want you inside of me.” You drag him up by his bangs until his head pops out from between your thighs. The entire lower half of his face is shiny with slick and sweat. His lips are plump and wet.

“Can I go a little longer?” Your husband’s rough voice sends waves of arousal back through your stomach. His grip on your thigh is tight.

“Just a little ok? I won’t let you have all the fun.” You cradle his face and press a firm kiss to his lips. It tastes like salt and skin. Within a moment he dives back down.

Tomioka moves for another fives minutes or so while you pant and moan. You could fall asleep like this. When you close your eyes and the sensation radiates outward from your core it’s like your body is melting.

Eventually you convince him to surface again, this time for real. You kiss more although the taste of his mouth isn’t the most pleasant with your slick all over it.

With a few upward movements of your hips you convince him to begin bedding you properly. Tomioka has to sit back on his knees for leverage. It means you can’t kiss him anymore but thankfully you can still stare at his soft face. As he slides into you, you watch how his expression shifts. Your hips slide upwards while his hands holds onto your waist. Though it’s been a few months since he’s fucked you Giyuu’s dick slides in with little resistance. Bit by bit he thrusts forward, slowly sinking in. You keep your legs spread wide open until his hips finally press against your own.

The stretch is nearly painful as you attempt to wrap your legs around him. When he pulls back your hips get some reprieve but he quickly thrusts back in. As he finds a rhythm you can ignore the burning stretch in favor of the pleasure.

It’s hard to keep your eyes open but you don’t want to miss any moment of this. Giyuu looks like he’s doing the same. His eyes slip closed only to pop open as he bites his lip and slides deeper into you.

Your husband leans further over you to plant a hand on your side. As his face hovers over your own you jerk him closer. His pace stutters and slows but doesn’t stop. When you pull him in for a kiss Giyuu’s speed suffers again but his lips on yours is just as stimulating as his cock.

He pushes away and carefully lays his head down on your chest. You go to question him but as his hand moves from supporting himself to circling your clit all the words in your brain turn to mush.

It’s a bit awkward with his arm sandwiched between your bodies and the weight of Tomioka on you but the feeling is worth it. He gives up any leverage he has in this position so you contribute a few weak thrusts. You don’t have the same strength he does so instead you settle for grinding down on him. Though your hips groan in annoyance you wrap your legs around Giyuu’s to force them closer.

“I love you,” you pant between breathy moans. With his pelvis grinding against your clit sparks keep going off behind your eyes. You pull his head upwards to press sloppy kisses against his lips. “Are- are you gonna cum soon? G’yuu I dunno how much longer I can wait.”

“It’s ok you can cum anytime. I’ve got you.” Tomioka presses a tender kiss to your jaw, right under your ear where it tickles you in all the right ways. As his hips smack against yours everything explodes.

The only thing you can do is pant his name in between proclamations of love. Your muscles are so tight they burn but it’s worth it. With your toes curled your feet begin to cramp up.

Right when the pain begins to overtake the pleasure you fall limp. It shakes your entire body as Giyuu keeps thrusting but you’re already wrung dry. You count to ten a few times until he finally spills inside of you. When his movements end you relax into the futon. Everything hurts just a little but it’s worth it.

Your husband pulls out slowly and flops down beside you. You can barely move but you turn to face the man and plant your head over his shoulder. As your legs shift all kinds of gross fluids moisten your thighs.

“I love you… so much. You’re great.” You press light kisses on whatever skin you can reach.

“Do you want a bath?” His hand reaches up to brush hair off your forehead.

“Yea but I don’ wanna move.”

“Grab onto me and I can carry you.”

Part of you wants to point out that that still counts as moving because everything still aches but you push that part back and wrap your arms around your neck. It’s harder to get your legs in place because you can’t feel anything below your waist but eventually it happens.

Tomioka grunts as he forces himself to stand and you feel bad because he must be tired too, but by the time you open your mouth he’s already setting you down on the edge of the bathtub.

It takes too long to fill but your patience is well rewarded when you sink into warm water. Your muscles shift back into place and you regain the ability to move.

Turning around you face your husband. He has a faint tired smile that widens when you press another kiss on his lips. “I love you.” You mumble the words over and over. “You’re so- I dunno I just love you.”

“You’re tired.” He returns the kisses softly. “Should I take you back to bed?” You’ve barely washed up and there’s no way in hell you’re stepping out until you’ve scrubbed off at least 3 layers of skin.

“Give me a sec,” you groan and reach for the washcloth. Scrubbing between your legs you try to ignore the slimy feeling of whatever leaks out from your cunt. Carefully you scrub your pussy too, wincing at how tender it is. Tomioka takes the towel from you and moves even gentler. Any contact with the area is still horrible but you breathe slowly until he decides the job is done.

He does your thighs again before moving to your back. Giyuu digs his thumbs into your muscles and you have to suppress another moan. It’s like magic the way he pulls pain from your bones. Soon enough you’re letting out soft pants again but the impromptu massage lasts only another minute or two.

You swear you can hear a smile in his voice. “Is it my turn now?”

The muffled noise you make isn’t really an answer but you take the towel back. Turning towards him you run the washcloth over his pecs. In its tracks you leave more kisses. You’re sloppier in your movements than he was but to be fair you’re also falling asleep as you move. His chest makes a wonderful pillow and the water is still warm enough to be soothing.

Tomioka moves to pick you up and you make a tired noise. “Sorry sorry, are you clean enough?”

“I’m fine.”

You squirm around in his arms until you vaguely face him. “I’m so lucky to have such a strong husband.”

“Do you want to get dressed.”

“No it’s ok. We should wrap up your arm though.”

“We can do it in the morning, you’re tired.”

After a moment you pick your head up. “Not that tired.”

“It’s good to let the area get fresh air. One night will be fine.”

“Ok but don’t complain if it’s sore in the morning.”

Tomioka carries you out of the bathroom. The futon is still soaked in sweat and whatever else so while you cling to his back he throws an extra blanket on top.

Finally as he sets you down you let your eyes slip shut. As Giyuu settles beside you your arms wrap around his figure. You attempt to press a few more kisses against his lips but really it’s more like smashing your lips onto him. “Mmm, love you. Sorry for making you carry me.”

“I love you too.” The man kisses you properly. You wish you could manage to stay conscious for more than thirty minutes after sex. You want to treasure this moment. Instead you fall asleep.

Luckily the morning is slow.

[kaeyachi]

NEW CANON KAEYA TIDBITS FROM THE KAEYA HANGOUT PT. 1

The heavy lore post will be posted later! These ones are just more on his personality, likes and dislikes, and brief history hehehe

SPOILERS BELOW!!

I'm doing things in bullet point form coz wow there's a lot

Was the gentle and polite child! Also frequently got sick. Addie frequently took care of him in those times hehe. Is it possible that this is because of his experiences prior to getting to Mond? Travelling as a child would have made him vulnerable to tougher weather and rapidly at that. I doubt that food comes easy too. Additionally, HE WAS LEFT IN A STORM. I still think Kaeya is gentle and polite, though he definitely gives the face of charming and sly (if it benefits him and it works then might as well keep it going!)

Kindness is so inherent in him that he automatically does kind acts. He only acts like he has an ulterior motive, and tbh? I bet that act is only to keep people away. I think I made a oneshot about this saying his biological father may be worried about this tendency? Or something similar. Worryingly enough, Kaeya clearly has a hard time accepting words of affirmation from literally everyone. Heartbreaking to see in action.

Diluc is a menace, asking Kaeya to help him in his mischief, tsk. Kaeya apparently also helps Diluc in the punishments he receives. Kaeya ended up doing the most of it :( (what are the odds of Kaeya also doing Diluc's paperwork while said redhead was out on the field? What if the reason Kaeya wasn't with Diluc and Crepus during that one fateful 18th birthday because he was covering for Diluc's shift...). Tbh? Kaeya never stopped covering for Diluc. Even now, he is still covering for Diluc (DKH).

This one set off alarms in my mind. Kaeya was apparently not a very good liar when he was younger. I now definitely think that Crepus knew Kaeya lied about his origins. The question is, did Diluc know Kaeya was not a strong liar before their fight? Or did he remember afterwards and was immediately faced with even more guilt?

He might actually have a sweet tooth! Dear god look at the number of desserts he ordered. Do note that Death Afternoon is a mixture that lessens the bitterness of Dandelion Wine. Additionally, Kaeya wasn't interested in wine when he was younger, he only grew into it because it reminds him of home after he left :( The Cider Lake drink is also sweet! And I'm guessing plain chicken mushroom skewers weren't sweet enough, so he decided to add fruits to it. I THINK CREPUS ACCIDENTALLY GOT HIM INTO LIKING ALCOHOL AFTER CREATING THE CIDER LAKE DRINK LMAO. Crepus suceeding in preventing alcohol intake from one child and ended up giving it to the other

Fairly sure he was being flirted on here by an entire group of mercenaries and just didn't realize which would make things extremely funny. They saw him and immediately went "we need to see that body in the dance floor ASAP". What if he doesn't realize he is being flirted on until he is slapped in the face with a confession? It's also funny if he flirts up a storm and not realize people are flirting back lmao

So I was right... he was not kicked out. He moved out on his own. Diluc is fine with him frequenting Dawn Winery, expects it even (lol my short 1 shot makes sense now). The staff keep asking him to come back and visit more frequently. Adelinde says that Kaeya is always part of the family. They become so happy when Kaeya comes back, it's like a weight is lifted off of everyone's chests. IT'S KAEYA WHO KEEPS SAYING HE'S A GUEST AND SEPARATING HIMSELF OUGH. He's the one trying to stay away after all :((( Let's summarize this: Kaeya was the sickly, quick to bruise, kind, gentle, and polite child who everyone in the staff (and Diluc) adores and still treats like he is their baby, but said baby of the family KEEPS LEAVING. Go home Kaeya!

Klee keeps looking for Kaeya! And Kaeya reads her bedtime stories!!! Hearing her voice ask where Kaeya was broke my heart, I think I'd like that used for angst purposes. Kaeya is once again letting a mischievous pyro user get away with causing mischief. Kaeya you enabler lmaaaoooo. Kaeya frequently rescues Klee from solitary confinement, done so enough times that Klee now does the same for him (I bet she thinks Kaeya is in solitary confinement whenever he's busy doing paperwork). Not to Kaebedo/Albekae you guys (I am Kaebedo/Albekae-ing you guys), but I'm fairly sure Kaeya and Albedo spend so much time together with Klee. Again, frequent enough that Albedo has tons of drawings of Kaeya (the 3 brushstrokes is a popular meme, but it actually is just a way to say that he has drawn Kaeya a lot. Bet he could draw Kaeya with his eyes closed haha). HE GOT THEM MATCHING GIFTS THATS ADORABLE

Speaking of gifts, he's a great gift giver! He really listens to people's needs and wants. What a thoughtful man (Diluc was right in his letters in hidden strife though. TAKE CARE OF YOURSELF KAEYA). Speaking of, I'm guessing Kaeya is rich? Because I'm fairly sure the gifts were bought with his own pocket money and thus the huge amount of travel funds remaining (the gifts are expensive, surely it should have put a dent to the said funds had he used them)

THAT IS ALL FOR NOW, I MIGHT MAKE A PART 2 BECAUSE I WANT TO TACKLE MORE STUFF BUT THE PHOTO LIMIT GOT TO ME

[pomegranate-pen]

The hunter, the prey, and the fool

Alastor x Detective!gn!reader

summary:

You were never really fond of radios.

In your life, things such as ‘entertainment’ have always been seen as ‘unnecessary noise’ and therefore they were confiscated from your household before you were even born. Had you ever been curious enough to ask about such confiscations, your father would go on a tangent about how the truth must be discovered by oneself rather than believing hearsay. Especially in a time where the truth is always hidden behind the curtain, where every misery of humanity has become a giant spectacle to gawk at and read about in the newspapers. Therefore, in your current years, you found decent entertainment between books alone and never bothered to buy a radio.

Which, in hindsight, has now become a big issue for you, hasn’t it?

The culprit of your new case, the infamous radio show host Alastor looks at you with incredible amusement and a tinge of disdain. there's a prickling feeling within you. something that tells you meeting him was no coincidence nor ordinary matter.

you only hope meeting him won't cause you any trouble.

spoiler: it will.

Ao3 version is here!

Note: they're humans in the first few chapters!

chapter 1.The disciples

Blue and pink engulf the walls and tiles, shining brightly in their clean ceramic might. The wooden chairs and stools full of spots and smudges of coffee stain revel in their small islands of memories, letting the deep brown and rouge colors sink in and become one with its old light brown one. The pastries left were very few, an issue the disciple of the baker usually tends to around this time, where the sun is barely out of its luxurious bed of stars and the birds haven’t begun their daily songs. Yet, the disciple was too busy screaming her lungs out, for she had seen a corpse.

The blood oozes out, creating a pool around the once squeaky clean ground,the owner of the bakery, her father, lays motionless with eyes widened, mouth agape as two deep holes of red take away one’s attention, on right at the temple of his mind and the other at his shoulder. For that morning, the once peaceful and sweet hum of songs that Sasha Peterson would do by the day while the smell of sweet pastries engulfed the street was long forgotten, replaced with screams of heartbreak and dread, banging of the walls and doors as the neighbours wake up and witness the dreadful morning at Greenfield street.

“So that's all she could recall?” The morning sun was barely apparent, the cold sizzles of an autumn-near-winter season leaving you with a grey morning and a dark situation to coincide with it. tapes of yellow engulf the bakery in front of you, your eyes set on the weeping brunette shaking from horror and cold. Hadn’t you been the professional that needed to act indifferent and quiet in the case, you’d be comforting her right about now. Her shaken up form tugs at your heartstrings, but you of all people should know that even the most genuine of acts could be played with a mask.

“well…that’s all we could comprehend through all her cryin’.”  Mr.Lington said. He coughs a few before clutching his shoulders, being far more affected by the cold than you were a the moment, giving the fact that he was in nothing but his cop uniform unfit for cold weather, all while you relished the warmth in your long brown coat- stereotypically fitting for a detective such as yourself. “ would  die for a warm coffee right now.” Lington grumbled.

You gave him an amused smirk. “must suck to wear such a horrid uniform, eh? Maybe you could use that little flimsy badge of yours as fuel for a fire.”

Lington glared at you in jealousy and annoyance. “At least I have a steady paycheck.” He replied back. You and Lington have always had been a…’frenemies’ of sorts, though the ‘friendship’ in it is more done to follow the code of manners and professionality rather than true companionship. Unfortunately for both of you, your jobs mandate you two having more than just one or two interactions within a month. Had your minds been more alike, perhaps you’d gain admiration and respect for each other, but alas, Lington, in your opinion, had always been a prude and a close-minded individual. Often seeking to just quickly close a case rather than seeking out the truth. But, to be fair, he’s also the most bearable of his fellow comrades. Whom were all crude and often much too prideful for your taste to tolerate.

“Say, L/n…if you don’t mind me asking—“ he turns back to you, perhaps tired of seeing Ms.Peterson shake like a leaf as she’s handed a mug of warm tea to soothe her worries. “Why on earth are you here? we just started the case, and I didn’t hear anyone talk about calling you up for this.” his eyes become analytical- judgemental. He tries to search within your act to see if you’ll crack, to see if you’re here for a deeper agenda.

“I was just passing by.” You shrugged. “You could say curiosity has taken a toll on me. when I heard that such a peaceful street has now become bloody, I couldn’t help but check things out for myself.”

Lington’s brows furrowed. You ignored it, eyes glued more to the crime scene before you.

“and in any case, it’s within my responsibilities as a detective—“

“— Private investigator .” Lington felt the need to correct. You could only give him a squinted stare before putting on a bittersweetly annoyed smirk. With a ‘tch’, you continued.

“like I said. As a detective—” You didn’t miss the sneer he gave you, only making you more prideful than before. “ It's within my responsibility to solve any case I see, and today while I decided to take a nice stroll around the town, I witnessed this.” you point to the Bakery before putting your hands into your coat’s pockets. “And if you’ll excuse me, Officer Lington, I have a job to do. whether you like it or not.”

You intend to walk up to the shivering witness a few feet away, however, a cop suddenly blocks your path, giving you a dirty glare then looking back at Lington like a loyal knight. You couldn’t help but huff in annoyance, turning your head back to Lington and giving him a knowing look.

Lington tries to hold back his happy grin through huffs from the cold, but it fails and only makes you feel more irked than before. “Well you came a bit late, Detective .” He then points to his left. “five minutes late, to be exact. “

You look at where he’s pointing, only to be met with a hoard of people circling around an officer and an unknown man. The first thing you notice about the pair is the annoyed smile the culprit gives, as if he’s more frustrated by the itchy handcuffs and grimy hands on him rather than pleading for his innocence.

The officer says a few common phrases to him, urging him to get in the car so they’d leave as soon as possible. Yet, the man wouldn’t budge, unusually strong and avoiding the car seat as much as he could.  A few more officers flea into the scene to help settle him in, but he tries to kick them back with his feet, all while his voice threatens them with the calmest possible tone.

“Now now, dear officers, wouldn’t want to be known for hurting a very well known radio host while falsely accusing him of murder, now would you?” he grins, though his eyes squint in pure annoyance. “ you’re almost tempting me to broadcast the very rotting pits of your actions for all the people in this fine town!”

Intriguing. Awfully intriguing. You look back at Lington more confused than defeated. “you think this is your guy?” you look back at the apparent radio host again, who has successfully kicked one of the officers in the gut while chuckling.

“he was last seen with the victim.”

“and his motive?”

“unknown for now.”

You perked up by that. “do you at least have any solid evidence other than him being the last guy to see him?”

Lington stays silent for a moment, looking back at the scene and undoubtedly trying to ignore you.

“oh my fucking god, Lington.” You pinch the bridge of your nose before rubbing your temples to avoid an oncoming headache. “ Not this shit again .”

“We'll prove everything at court. “ he sighed. “ If he's not the murderer then he’s got nothing to worry about, neither do you.”

“oh yes, and let’s see him leave the court, go back to his radio show and start ruining the already damaged reputation of the incompetent police department! How great!” your voice of sweet malice makes Lington grip his toolbelt. “what a great idea, Captain! Can’t wait to see people shitting on you for this one! Oh I wonder which unsolved case they’ll attack you for next time. Maybe the continuous chain of murders that’s still being committed by the ever-so-mysterious serial killer? Remember how you once accused the son of one of the victims to be the murderer? Remember that buddy? Oh oh! maybe they’ll ask you if you’re linked to the hya-”

“— then what do you suggest we do ?” the question you’ve been meaning to urge out of him is finally released. Your acts of light teasing (bullying) the captain finally bearing its fruit.  He looks utterly enraged, his mind filled with his own insecurities, because you and him both know he’s not fit for his job. And quite frankly, he’s been a miserable failure these days, and has been born in an era where crime is the highest it could ever be.

“Give me three days to solve this.”  Lington frowned at that, fiddling a bit with the car keys on his belt. “I’ll give you two days.”  He huffed.

You stare blankly at him for a moment, then give a small smile and shrug. “fine by me, I’ve always liked a challenge.” Lies. Had it not been a crime, you’d prance at Lington and beat the shit out of him right now for his stone-headed stubbornness. Alas, you must stay in your act. “oh and— free the culprit, will you?” you take a glance at the car with an unscathed, yet amused host sitting at the car with a certain confident pose. The officer who was his designated driver took a breather right beside the car, all with an ice pack on his newly formed black eye.

“Are you serious ? What if he is the murderer? You’re just going to set this loose canon free ?”

“No, of course not.” You think for a moment, looking back at the bakery that remains quiet, with a few officers mucking around looking for further clues. “ There's a kitchen behind the place, right?” Lington hesitantly nods.  “then just set him up there and keep an eye on him until I come in and begin the questioning. Ok?”

Lington keeps his mouth shut, holding back a handful of comments you know aren’t pretty in the slightest.you look back at the witness who was a bit more calmed now, your head forming up a strategy plan as you turn around to begin your walk- yet before you do, another comment leaves your mouth.

“oh and by the way, “ you suddenly take a badge out of your pocket. “stay alert captain, will you?”

Befuddled and shocked, Lington first second guesses the entire situation, his hand instinctively  going up to his chest as he realizes that the badge in your hand, is in fact, his. He snatches the badge from the currently utterly amused you.

“I really hate you L/n. you know that, right?”

“The feeling’s mutual, Captain!”

----

 “Ms.Peterson?”

The brunette, Sasha Peterson looks up at you with confusion, grief over the situation still plaguing her mind it seems. After all, her boss was no ordinary stranger.

“Let me start by saying I’m sorry for your loss.” You sit down next to her, hoping to not stress her out more by standing atop her idly like a looming shadow. “..you must feel very out of place at the moment.”

“ out of place ?” she scoffs, taking a deep breath as she continues to stare at the concrete. “ that phrase is used for when a gal goes to a club for the first time. When they feel embarrassment, when they’re utterly naïve to the world around them. “ The cold wind blows through the streets, making both your coat and her hair dance with the breeze for a moment, and making her clench her blanket with a tighter grip. “ I may be young, but I’m not naïve. And I assure you, detective, that I am in no way embarrassed right now. oh no, I wish I was just feelin’ embarrassed.`` She gulps. “what I feel right now? what I saw this mornin’? it was nauseating. Utterly sickening. It’s- I just- I can’t believe it.”

“hey, it’s ok Miss Peterson, please, take your time.” You pat her back in support, while your other hand searches within your deep pockets for a spare handkerchief. she takes it quickly, though she doesn’t use it right away. She first looks at the clenched handkerchief in grief, holding back a shaky breath and her shoulders shaking from sadness.Yet, it’s to no avail. Drops of water still slid down her eyes and  she tried to catch a few tears that were making a waterfall on her rosy cheeks. “ my father was no innocent soul, I know this. He's always been a bit of a brute and a grump. But when I looked into his eyes? When I saw how the light faded, how his brows weren’t all furrowed like it usually was? I- I just couldn’t take it. I couldn’t comprehend it. All that was going through my mind was just one question. was this all worth it ?”

“What do you mean?”

She hesitates for a moment, fiddling a bit more with the handkerchief before clearing her throat and taking a deep breath.

“he wasn’t just a baker his entire life.” she says. `` he had enemies. More than I could count or know in a lifetime.”

“What exactly was his job before the bakery?”

She goes quiet for a moment, her lips sealed tight. Her eyes dart around for a moment until she finally looks down again, her face emotionless. “I don’t really know. I just know that it was bad.”

One thing you noticed this entire conversation was how she never met your eyes, and how now her tone shifted as well. she first sounded heartfelt, full of spiraling emotion. Yet now she’s as calm as ever, as if she has finally collected her thoughts, or maybe, a realization has struck her.

You hum, letting the silence take over the conversation as you look at the glass panel behind you, observing the crime scene through it.

“it’s fine, miss. You’ve already done enough. '' you get up and give her a reassuring smile. “ I won’t pull on your leg for too long. after all, it’d be cruel of me to force a grieving person to give a full-detailed autopsy now, wouldn’t it?”

She doesn’t say anything back, only looking at you with a pleading expression of sorts, hoping that the case doesn’t end up as an unsolved disaster.

“don’t worry, miss Peterson. I won’t let this case remain a dud. “ you smiled. “After all, it’s my job to unveil the truth. no matter the cost .”

Somehow, her frown has seemed to deepen from that.

----

You were never really fond of radios.

In your life, things such as ‘entertainment’ have always been seen as ‘unnecessary noise’ and therefore they were confiscated from your household before you were even born. Had you ever been curious enough to ask about such confiscations, your father would go on a tangent about how the truth must be discovered by oneself rather than believing hearsay. Especially in a time where the truth is always hidden behind the curtain, where every misery of humanity has become a giant spectacle to gawk at and read about in the newspapers. Therefore, in your current years, you found decent entertainment between books alone and never bothered to buy a radio.

Which, in hindsight, has now become a big issue for you, hasn’t it?

The culprit of your new case, the infamous radio show host Alastor looks at you with incredible amusement and a tinge of disdain. He gives a few glances to the cops circling around him, one youngling newbie holding a notebook with shaky hands while the other with a black eye giving him an ugly stare. He grins at the elder, tilting his head in mock and then looking back at you once more.

“You sure you want to be alone with him?” Lington, who was beside you asked. “there’s a certain look in his eyes that I don’t quite like.”

Curiosity gets the best of you, and you stare deeply into the man’s eyes. Swirls of brown that reek of confidence, of finding joy in this entire fiasco that has been laid upon this sweet bakery. His eyebrows furrow. The only indication you have that he feels at least the slightest bit of negative emotions at the moment. Yet you can’t quite place the very emotion he’s feeling. Was it annoyance? Fear? Perhaps embarrassment from the way you’re just unblinkingly gawking at him?

You switch your stare to Lington. Giving Alastor a time to breathe. “ I get what you mean. but he won’t be honest with me if he thinks I’m working with you guys.” You then rolled your eyes. “ not that I ever wanted to be associated with you in the first place.”

Lington scoffed, tilting his cap down and motioning for the two officers to follow him out.  “well, the floor is all yours, lil’ Sherlock.' ' he glanced behind him, seeing your sitting form beside Alastor’s, who was looking back at him with a cheshire grin.  “tell you what? If he’s innocent then the next coffee’s on me!” he and his colleagues holler in laughter, leaving you groaning in annoyance and clicking your tongue as the door closes.

Silence takes over the room for a moment. You clear your throat and take out your hand.

“the name’s L/n. I’m a detective.”

By the moment you’ve mentioned your name- something in Alastor’s expression shifted. A flurry of emotions that left as soon as they came, leaving you with no real idea of he truly felt at the moment. He tilts his head back a bit, his then small small now becoming a grin, one which you couldn’t decipher what it meant. Warry or shock, it didn’t matter, for Alastor already put up his mask and is not one to show true emotions so easily, you’ve noticed. You could relate to that, in many ways than one.

“oh well isn’t this quite the shocking surprise!'' His voice was somewhat charming. Full of charisma and confidence, announcing things like it’s a show of sorts, like he’s a host of a competition, or to be exact, like he’s a true radio host. “ had it been in any other circumstance other than…well…” his eyes trail to the dimly lit kitchen around him, the sweet aroma making his nose scrunch up a bit in disdain. “ this. I would’ve counted myself quite the lucky man to be running into you!” he balled his hands together and put them on the table, his head leaning down a bit closer to yours. “ you are quite infamous around the city, you do know that, yes?”

Holy shit - you are ? Frankly, you didn’t know that. You try to hide your shock. Shrugging carelessly and looking at your coat’s cuffs as you speak. “oh well, I’m just doing my job.” You put your hands together, placing your chin on top of them. All perfect for your new act. “fame doesn’t really matter to me.”

Alastor’s grin becomes a bit too sinister for your liking. “well of course it doesn’t!” he says with a punch of enthusiasm. His movements suddenly mimicking yours and placing his chin on top of his hands as well, all with a bit more bounce to it as yours, making his glasses tilt a bit with his movements. Yet, he gracefully saves the clumsy glasses’ bounce by leaning his head down a bit, all covering the incident as mere intent. or perhaps it was intentional and you are the one assuming it was an accident?

You couldn’t help but feel your shoulders tense up a bit. not even a minute in and he’s a;ready full of secrets, of locks barricading his every movement and leaving you barely any key to open at least one of them. He’s good . Far too good in this charmful act.

“why, I’m certain you’re quite distasteful towards it all.” he continues. “ after all, you’ve seen the very dark pits of it all. the bitter truth behind those glimmering pearls and shining lights where only rotten desires and pitiful beings lay waste. Controlled by their insecurities.”

“..aren’t you a celebrity too, Mr.Alastor?”

Alastor laughs. “oh heavens no! Most people don’t even recognize me unless I speak to them! Even then, it takes quite some time for them to rattle their mind for a link between my radio show and face.”

“but you’re an entertainer as well, are you not?” your brows furrow. “ You keep people’s attention all on you, their eyes as sharp as ever as they listen to your every word. you hide your true intent behind a radio, leading people to trust in your voice and never letting them see your true face, your true emotions towards a certain subject. “

Alastor slowly sits up straight, his head tilting as he chuckles at your statement. “I’m afraid I’ll have to disagree with you, dear detective.” His attitude shifts, from a carefree confident host to one of more malicious intent, a certain intimidation in his voice and movements that leads you to have more suspicious than before. “for you see, I don’t need to hide my face to make people trust me.” the bravery, the very  audacity to say such a thing in an interrogation room leaves your hair’s on end, yet you do not falter. Just as he is keeping up his act, so do you. you do not shake, do not let out a gasp or break a single second out of your mask. You will not let cracks appear, for you see in his eyes that he’s a hunter at heart, and as soon as he sees an inkling of an opening he will pounce and tear off your skin with his teeth.

“Well then, Mr.Alastor. I’m going to be honest with you- and I hope that  by doing that, you’ll cut the act for a moment and cooperate for at least this interrogation session. You see- I don’t think you’re the murderer.”

Alastor’s eyes widened a bit in intrigue. “And what makes you say that, might I ask?”

You lean back in your chair, your pointer finger tapping the table in thought. “I checked the crime scene before visiting you here. There were a few things that kept muddling my mind. First- is the way Mr.Peterson died. Two gun wounds, one in the head and the other in the chest. Yet, the neighbours said that they only heard two sounds at night. One was an hour before you have been seen leaving, where an elderly staying up for the night reading heard the sound of a car honk and assumed it was Miss Sasha’s boyfriend trying to sneak in to visit her again. the second sound was of Sasha’s scream, right around six a.m. you can guess where I’m going with this.”

“ Why, it is strange how they haven’t heard a gunshot, especially one fired twice.” he hummed.

“yes, and furthermore- The Second reason on why I don’t believe you’re the killer is the footprints I found at the exit door in this very kitchen.” You point to your right, between all the counters and ovens there lies a backdoor entrance. “ the footprints were not only covered in dirt, but from the form, it was obvious that it wasn’t yours..or at least- that’s what my guess is unless- '' you suddenly lean down. After a few moments, you come back up again. “nope,I was right. they weren’t your shoes. The size of that one was much larger. So the idea of you changing your wardrobe during the murder is out of the picture for now.”

Alastor stays quiet for a second. “…you could’ve just asked for my shoe size rather than suddenly trudging down the table, Detective.”

“eh, I’m not really a math guy.” You merely shrugged. “though I know my two points aren’t that strong, merely weak strings of questions that haven’t been answered yet, I just have this gut feeling- something that tells me that although you are an incredibly suspicious man,” his eyes squint at that. “..for this case, at least, you are not the murderer. So, Mr.Alastor,” you clasp your hands together once more and look at him with an inquisitive stare. “is my gut feeling correct?”

He stays quiet for a moment, a smile kept tucked on his face and at this point, you’re certain that smile is glued to him no matter what he does. His shoulder hunch up a bit as he straightens his seat, trying to make himself look taller, filled with confidence. “ I must say, dear detective, you are a strange one.” So he thinks you’re a weirdo now. How great. Well, he certainly won’t be the first in your life that thinks that, nor will he be the last. “but it’s always the strange ones that bring in the most entertaining of shows! Even when it comes to mundane tragedies such as this one.”

Mundane would be the last word you’d use for this, but nevertheless, you stayed qyiet at let him continue.  “so I’ll be the one to quell your feeble worries, detective! you’re correct, I’m not the murderer.” This, makes you sigh in relief. “but, I think I have an idea on who it could’ve been.”

You looked at him confused, suspicious of his sinister energy as he spoke. Before you could utter another word, a sudden screech of wheels from outside catches your attention. You both got up from your seats, though you were more quick and hasty while he walked calmly with his hands behind his back. As you finally reached the entrance of the bakery, you could see a horde of cops round a blonde, scruffy-looking man, who had his hands up in surender, and his face beaten up.

“It’s me! I’m the murderer!” he screamed as he waved his hand up, awaiting his arrest.

“Allan?!” Sasha gasped, trying to find her way out of the hoard of cops to reach him. “Allan, what are you doing—“

“It's the truth, Sasha!” he gulps. Eyes darting between the cops that were just as confused. “ I-I’m the killer! Arrest me right now!”

Seriously, what the fuck is going on? the more you think of this case, the more you’re certain there are clues hiding in plain sight. A chuckle from the man beside you catches your attention, as he looks at the scene before him in pure delight.

“this has become far more entertaining than I could’ve anticipated.” He then glances back at you. “It seems like I was right, detective. you’ve truly made this an interesting story, one perfect for my radio show.”

You merely huffed, getting more baffled by the man beside you the more time passes. You decide to ignore his quip for now, for it’s obvious that this case doesn’t really involve him anymore, and he’s just a mere spectator in this silly mess. Your gaze catches Lington, whom after ordering around a few cops to arrest Allan suddenly comes up to you with an exhausted sigh.

“Well,” he huffed, shocked by the turn of events just like everyone else. “…I guess I owe you a coffee now, yeah?”

------

“This coffee is dogshit.”

In the quiet, garden-themed café, where only a tune of a jazzy broadcast can be heard from the radios, you smirk at Lington’s comment about the mug of coffee in his hand.

“at least it’s better than yours.” You quipped.

Lington gives you a blank stare before sipping a bit more of his coffee and grimacing from the taste. You hummed in the silence, taking a good gulp of your own coffee and relishing the caffeine that courses through you.

“still addicted to coffee, I see.”

“I don’t think  that Allan  kid is guilty.” You ignore his previous sentence. Lington’s frown seems to deepen from that. “ Nor do I think that Mr.Alastor is guilty.”

He gives you a baffled look. “What are you going on about?”

 “three shots.” You said. “when I interviewed him today, he said that he shot Mr.Peterson three times. And when I asked him where specifically he was shot, he went all fidgety and then said he doesn’t quit remember, and that his aim was careless and quick.”

“don’t you think he might be just misremembering things?” Lington tapped his finger at the table in thought. “ afterall, it’s never a pretty sight, you know. watching someone die.”

“it’s exactly because how traumatic this situation was that I’m baffled he doesn’t remember it.” you countered. “ fresh traumatic events never really leave the mind, and it takes  a very long while for someone to misremember this much from the crime. If it was just one little misremembering of  a certain detail, like the time or words that have been said, I would’ve shrugged it off- but it isn’t that, Lington. The things he’s presumably forgetting are important details, information that can get us closer to completing the puzzle.”

“In other words, you think he’s bluffing.”

“precisely.”

“then if it’s not him then, who is it? Miss Sasha?”

You stay quiet for a bit before shaking your head. “it could be. But I don’t think she’ll be too fond of being accused of murdering her own father.” You swing your coffee mug a bit, letting the liquid within it swirl. “there’s also the case of—“

Lington lets out a shriek as hot coffee straight from the pot the waiter walking beside your table was holding spills all over him. the waiter apologizes profusely, all while his left hand shakes and becomes wobbly as he sets the pot down on your table.

“I’m so sorry sir—“ the boy apologizes once again, his messy hair and bags under his eyes underlying his exhaustion. He grabs a few napkins and gives it to Lington, who was still cursing a bit from the heat.

“fuckin’ christ- kid is your oven powered by the sun? this shit is so hot—“

As the two start to stumble while trying to fix the mess that’s been made, you took the time to analyze the waiter. His hands still seemed a bit shaky, though it has calmed down a bit by now. his name tag sparkled between the lights, the name ‘JAKE’ catching your attention almost immediately. His clothes were a complete mess, as if he wore them all in a hurry while opening up the café for customers. He looked to be around Sasha and Allan’s age- a youngling in his 20s.

“Jake! Stop annoying the customers!” a scratchy, grouchy and all in all old voice shouted from the other side of the room. The waiter soon shoves a few more napkins in Lington’s hands as he scurries away, all while promising to give a discount for the coffees you two have been drinking.

Lington huffs in grimace as he looks at the new state of his uniform, stained with coffee that will never wash off easily with just mere napkins. He then quickly looks up at you, his conflicted look switching to hopeful.

“do you still have my old coat with you?—“

“Absolutely not. I burned it a long time ago.”

Lington grumbles. Drinking the last bits of his coffee with his eyes glancing to everywhere but you.

-----------

“sir- we have a problem.”

Not even five minutes away from work and it seems like Lingtons troupe has already become an absolute mess. While others are just doing their jobs and warning the public to not interfere with the crime scene, a few are just standing there, behind the radio host giving him the nastiest stares. Yet Alastor’s back stays unturned and his expression remains unbothered. One could even say delighted .

“Mr.Alastor won’t leave…”

“So now that he’s scott free he’d rather stay ? “ Lington was baffled. “What's wrong with this guy?”

The colleague held back a scowl. “probably everything.”

You watch as Alastor’s eyes quickly land on you, giving you a slight bow of greetings while he ignores the threats and questions being thrown at him. The very act of acknowledging your presence and not theirs leaves the cops grumbling and giving up, leaving to approach their baffled captain who was unsure what to do now. With this in mind, you walk up to the radio host.

“It's a pleasure to see you again, Detective.”

“I've only been gone for half an hour.”

Alastor hums. “Has it really been only thirty minutes?” he glances at the cops, his smile becoming forced and hiding his irritation and urge to scowl. “ These people made it feel like an eternity .”

“well, I can’t argue with that.” You chuckled. “I’ve had my fair share of boredom from them, so I can get where you’re coming from- speaking of which- “ you raised a brow.``why are you still here?”

“Would you like to guess?” he mused, a smile turning into a grin.

You think for a bit, recalling the last conversation you had with Alastor. “…for entertainment?”

“ bingo!” He cheered far too enthusiastically at the crime scene. “ you’re correct detective. I’m here to be entertained. After all, I am a host of  a popular radio show!” a radio show that you don’t know a lick about, nor have you heard anything about it. though, that could be just a problem, after all, you’re not much of a social person. It’s hard to trust people when your job revolves around doubting everyone. “I seek and thirst for entertainment! So of course I’d scour everywhere across town to find and feast on it! the more I find, the more I absorb and relish, the more I can attract eyes and ears to my show!” you won’t lie, his energy is contagious. A bit jarring? Perhaps. But nonetheless his hyped up energy leaves you with  a pump of motivation as well.

“And in any case,” he side-eyed the policemen. “since these people's untardiness has made me become tomorrow’s newspaper headline, I’ll have to take this to my advantage and salvage my reputation. I’m a respectable man of the community, so I can’t  let a paper and misunderstanding ruin my image, don’t you agree, detective?”

“I can see why you’re worried.” You nodded, hands going back to your pockets out of habit.  “Well then, I guess you’re going to stay here till the case is closed, yes?”

He hummed. “That is if the case will end today. “

“oh, don't worry, it will.”

Alastor’s eyes spark with interest. “oh? and why is that, detective?”

“because I already know who the murderer is.” Alastor’s head tilted in intrigue. “ I just need a bit more evidence to prove my claim.”

“is that so?...” Alastor straightened his coat. “then would you have the mercy to tell the ever-so-curious radio show host all about it? I’ll assure you that I’m no snitch.”

You put a finger under your chin and tap your foot, acting like you were truly considering such an offer. “..well..you did say you’re here to be entertained, yes?” you smirked. “then I guess I’ll have no choice but to keep you at the edge of your seat, Dear host. ”

Alastor’s smile, impressively so, widens at that. His eyes spark with delight, amused to find a bit of showmanship between your serious detective façade.

“Well then! I guess you won’t mind me tagging along on this case, yes?”

“I will. Though, only on one condition.”

Alastor nods away. “yes yes- I’ll make sure to put you in a glamorous spotlight as the hero detective-“

“no. no. I don’t need that.” You quickly cut him off.

Alastor looks at you baffled. Somehow confused about your decline at such a tempting offer, a worry that most people like you would have, a fear that captain Lington most definitely has.

“you speak the truth in your show. No glamour, no exaggeration, no lies.”

You expected a sneer, maybe even a scowl and a decline of your condition. For what Alastor said in the confession room was true, you have seen the ugly side of fame, you’ve seen the truth around your cases get tangled in lies and assumptions, you've seen careers of the rotten get bigger while the weak and innocent are left penniless. You’ve had multiple feuds, multiple heartbreaks and too many lawsuits about the entertainment of crime, the entertainment of death. You’d hate to see the culprits in this case in particular fall into any disgrace, especially considering how most of them are normal civilians trying to make ends meet. Yet, Alastor gave a smile- a somewhat genuine and charmed one. Charmed by your answer, it seemed.

“dear,” he said with a breathy chuckle. “ Have you ever listened to my show?”

“no.not really.” You don’t even own a radio to begin with.

“well then, you’ll be assured to know that my show is famous precisely for speaking the truth. Being ‘unfiltered’ as some may say.”

“oh, well then,” you give a goofy smile of your own. “this may be a perfect partnership.”

Alastor nods before adding, “why I believe this is a fated encounter, wouldn’t you agree?.”

“yes.” You couldn’t help but feel comforted by that idea. Fate. “ a fated one indeed.”

----

*Ring!*

The little chimes of the doorbell catches the woman’s attention, turning off the bud of her cigar by pressing it down on the counter and telling her dear gossip friend Emillie that she’ll call later. She sees the two ever-so cartoonishly well-dressed individuals be distracted by the racks of clothing, so she takes this as an opportunity to chew up some gum to annihilate the tobacco smell.

“Welcome to Claudine’s Boutique, where the clothes are neat and the rent ain’t cheap.” Her elbows lean down on her counter, a strand of her curly black hair moving out of the tucked place behind her ear and falling into her face. “what can I getcha’?”

“it’s a pleasure to meet you madame.” You smiled, reaching out for a handshake. “the name’s Detective L/n. “

“oh?” her tone is a bit surprised, as she accepts your handshake and gives you a good-old up and down look. “ never knew Detectives were the fashionista types.”

“Oh no, I’m not here for a wardrobe change.”

Claudine stays quiet for a moment. She looks at your clothes once again then back up to you.  “you sure?”

To that, you give a slightly-offended and more-so embarrassed huff, all the while your new partner in the case, ever the gentleman Alastor seems to lose his façade for a moment and holds back a chuckle from her comment.

“yes. I’m certain .” You clarified. “ I wanted to ask you about Mr.Peterson’s murder that happened last night..you have heard about it, I’m sure.”

“how could I not?” she scoffed. “it’s all everyone’s been talking about today. You can’t even call one friend without hearing the news.” She tucks her lost strand of her away once more. “ this neighbourhood ain't never been a quiet one. And I reckon it never will be. People round’ these parts only care for three things. Money, reputation and drama.” She sighed, before gnawing a bit with the gum in her mouth and continuing once more.

“I’ve grown up around these parts. Never really left the place. Guess it’s all because of that darn curse everyone firmly believes in.”

“curse?”

She looks back at you surprised. “haven't you heard?” her eyes then spark in slight realisation. “hm, well it is your first day on the case. Guess I’m your first bystander for questioning?”

You nod. Claudine hums in thought, hesitating on saying a word until she finally bites the bullet.

“People who start livin’ here all get struck by tragedy in one way or another. Death around here is like a plague with no cure. They say it’s a way to make you stay here forever, to make you cling to the remaining memories of your loved ones.”

“Have you lost someone dear as well, Madame?” Alastor chimed.

Claudine’s mind seemed to be stuck in memory-lane. “my sister.” Was her only answer.soon enough she sighed and continued before even one of you could give your condolences. “ Mr.Peterson was one of the people affected by this curse. And now? his daughter will pass on the curse it seems…poor Mr.Peterson. he may have been…well..not the best neighbour round’ these parts but..he had his soft moments. I can’t help but feel pity for the guy, y’know? He wasn’t always like this.”

“Is his bitter behaviour related to the ‘curse’?”

“Well aren’t you smart?” she deadpanned. “ his wife left him for another man, then died a few years later. Never been the same since.” 

“I see…” you quickly take out a notebook and pencil from your pockets, quickly writing this down while your foot taps the floor. “well, is there anything else we should know?”

“depends.” Claudine smirked. “you gonna buy anything?”

Alastor chuckled. “I like her.”

“if that’s the case then why don’t you buy something then?” you offered.

“oh- heavens no! I already have far too much clothing in my closet that has seen the light of day yet.”

“and I’m not looking forward to dressin’ up him.” Claudine chimed. “mister charmer over here doesn’t need any help with fashion, that’s for sure.” Alastor grinned at hat, confidentiality fixing his bow tie while looking at you all smug. “oh no, I want to dress up you , detective.”

You froze for a moment, the tapping of your foot no longer coherent.

“I- I uh…no thank you?” you failed at giving a proper response. “I’m quite fine with how I look now.”

“you mean scratched up and baggy?” Claudine mused.

“wrinkled and worn out?” Alastor added.

“divorced and in their thirties?”

“common bar customer?”

“chased by a b-“

“OK OK. I get it. I look disheveled.” You grumbled.

“When was the last time you even bought new clothes?” Claudine asked.

You fell silent for a moment, the answer bringing up bittersweet memories in your head. “..uh..a pretty long time ago..I guess…” you went quiet, taking the time to pass away all the memories in your head inside a chest that will not see the light of day for a few more years. “alright fine, I guess I do need new clothes…but the coat stays on!”

Claudine hummed, looking at your form up and down again, yet this time her gaze of boredom was replaced with one of passion. “I can work with that.”

----

Cufflinks of white lace, long sleeves of a light brown all neatly tied with a black bow that replaced your previously messy tie, the wardrobe Claudine picked out made you feel like a child of victorian times who's been meaning to go on a picnic. Your once practical and almost a  decade old shoes (‘they’re sturdy and usable!’ you argued) are now replaced with shiny new black ones, ones that gave you the urge to tap dance and sing in the rain with. Your once comfy pants that were a size too big for comfort’s sake were now replaced with a normal black pants,and as promised, the coat stayed on, though not before Claudine tried to clean it up  a bit with items at hand. (“why don’t you give it to a dry cleaner?” she had asked once while trying to tear off a dirt stain at the ends of the coat . “ never had the time for it.” you shrugged.)

“well?” from his tone, you could sense that Alastor was pleased with the new look. “a penny for your thoughts detective?”

You hummed a bit, toying with the ends of the bow while looking at yourself in the mirror. It felt different, that’s for sure, yet it also didn’t bother you at all.not one bit. you actually quite liked this new outfit, though the bow felt a tad too excessive for a serious job like yours. The outfit defines a new era, a new you, a whole new detective after two years of working without him . a detective that doesn’t need to hide in the shadows of their father no longer. Something felt right about this change, about this new look.

“It ain't half bad.”  You muttered. Claudine scoffed at that.

“ ‘ain't half bad?’ you look like a prince charming now!” Claudine grinned. “not too bad of a job, if I do say so myself.”

 Alastor walks up to you, looking at the mirror and fixing his own bow as his gaze falls upon your form in the mirror. “I must say, the bow suits you.” he mused. “but..there’s something missing. “

You turned around to face him directly rather than the mirror. “and what would that be?”

His smile turns into a grin as he gently grabs your chin and lifts up the ends up your lips. “ a smile!” before you could retaliate he lets go of your now shocked face and  points to his own unshakable grin. “you’re never fully dressed without one.” He winked.

Albeit a bit weirded out, you still give him a small,worried smile. “better?”

“..it could use some work.” He hummed. “but it’s good enough as it is!”

“Good, then,” you take out the notebook and pen from your pickets once more and look back at Claudine. “Let's get back to the case at hand, shall we?”

----

The silence of the streets paired with Lington’s judgmental eyes proves to you that Claudine did an excellent job in her work. Perhaps a tad too excellent.

Knowing that Lington’s stare could last for hours if ignored, you give him a roll of your eyes.

“don’t you have a family at home, officer?” you knew that his gaze was anything but infatuation, yet couldn’t help but annoy him with even the very concept of him liking you.

However, Lington seems utterly unbothered. The only indicator you have of his discontempt is the click of his tongue. “what role are you playing this time, N/n?”

His mutter made you flinch, faltering in your ac a bit before giving him a signature smile.

“Did all that coffee get you drunk, detective? don’t tell me you spilled some ... .what do they call it now? oh right,- ‘ illicit beverages’ - in it.”

“ with the way you keep on changin’ the game? I might as well bring some.” He huffed in exhaustion, in hidden rage. “one minute I think we’re playing checkers, next thing you know it’s actually chess. The minute I want to move my piece I see that the fuckin’ pieces are gone and we’re playing dress up instead.”

“oh? so now I’m banned from buying new clothes too?”

“ just what the fuck are you doing Y/n?” Your jab goes unanswered. ” Why do you always gotta be like this? why can’t you cooperate with me?” with every syllable, Lington’s tone grows more desperate.” why can’t you work with us ?—”

“ — you know damn well why, Lington . ” For a moment, for a singular,almost fleeting moment, your mask is down, and your eyes look deep into his own. Into forgotten memories and broken cases. “ That's the thing. You know everything. You know why. Yet you still have the audacity to ask this, the fucking nerve to accuse me of not doing my work.”

“I don’t see where a change of wardrobe could be benefic—“

“I solved every single case I ever laid my hands on.” you tried to make your voice steady, desperately tried to sound like the usual confident detective you are. Yet your heart couldn’t help but shake, causing your words to waver. “ every single case. Except one.”

Something flashed in Lington’s eye. the gaze of a guilty man.

“and that one? Lington? That one case?” you thanked the heavens for letting you have at least control over the volume of your voice. If not, the shakiness would make people think you’re a broken person with a broken heart. An impostor stuck on a play with no backstage and no exit, with an audience that practically lives in their seats. In this moment, you weren’t a confident detective, you were an abnormally tall child with broken dreams, and a raggedy coat. “ that case haunts me . every . day. ”

Lington looks at you with a mixed expression. horrified, concerned, guilty and ashamed. It seems like the words you s[poke to him had left him with his mouth shut and his head hung in shame. Had it been anyone else, they'd feel pride over the fact that they had shut up a prick like him so well. Yet all you could feel was a deep, uncontrollable embarrassment that you needed to dispose of immediately. You need to leave. now.

“now if you’ll excuse me, Sheriff,” your tone quickly goes back to normal, and your expression once again a bundle of confidence and suave. “I have a poor rookie to annoy with some new details about the case. Details I’ve gotten from a certain seamstress .”

Lington takes one deep breath and groans at that. This time, it seems,that your jab has hit its mark.

----

“so…you’re telling me that Mr.Peterson had dealings with the hyacinth?”

“not just dealings lil’ rookie.” You turn around to him, right before going inside the dainty café you had a bad coffee at. “ he used to work for them.”

The rookie gasped at that, clenching his notepad a little tighter.

“and it wasn’t just him.” you dramatize the situation, enjoying the eagerness the rookie is showing for this case. “no no. the truth is more basic than that. It revolves around one thing only. The very thing that drives humans to do anything and everything all at once.”

“W-what's that?...”

You open the door. the cafés bell rings. “ love .”

“ Welcome to—... .oh,…” Jake, the employee without realising it, has done you a favour and threw coffee at the guy you hated most in this world, looking at you with a mix of dejection and hesitance. As if he didn’t want you to come back. “…back for more coffee, detective?”

You held back a wince from the mentioned coffee, looking around the room to spot a certain figure. When you see him, you're glad to know that he’s already charmed up the man you were supposed to interrogate.

“no no, just here to sit next to a friend.” You point to Alastor before grabbing the distracted rookie (from what he was exactly distracted by, you weren’t sure.) and  ignoring the scorching gaze Jake was giving you.

The man behind the counter, an old barista with hands so quick you don’t even notice the glass he’s pouring the espresso in, was talking with Alastor with such glee and enthusiasm that one could almost forget that he was the same guy mere hours ago, angry and giving strict orders to his son for the little mistake he did.

Alastor's posture straightened as he saw your figure approach. “oh, there you are!” he then looks at the barista. “This is the friend I was talking about, Mr.Finch.”

He inspects you for a moment, his gaze hanging on your coat for a bit too long before he cleans his hands with a rag and holds it out to shake. “Well, any friend of lil’ Alastor here is a friend of mine.” He grins.” A pleasure to be meeting you.”

“likewise.” You shook his hand in return, an amused look taking over you as you looked back at the gentleman in red drinking his coffee. “it’s an honour to meet one of the friends of the ever so infamous Lil’ Alastor.” If you hadn’t had sharper ears, you would’ve missed the small grunt Alastor made as he choked on his coffee, trying his best to seem unbothered. He gives you a teasing glance, setting the espresso cup down and leaning back a bit as he listens to Finch’s hollered laughter to your comment.

“ I hope ya don’t think it’s from mockery, Detective.” he leans his shoulder on the counter, looking at Alastor like a proud uncle. “Lil’ Alastor and I know each other from church. Boy was I used to seeing this rascal glued to his mother no matter what.” He shook his head, nostalgic eyes stuck staring at the counter. “say,” he looks back up to Alastor again. “How's the church doin’ son? Any good news?”

“oh?” Alastor tilts his head in curiosity. “you don’t visit the church either,Mr.Finch?”

“guess were both sinners now, ey?” Finch jokes, yet Alastor merely hummed.

“Well, you can’t blame a child for not visiting church in his elder years.” Alastor replied. “After all, I was just there because my dear mother loved taking me with her.”

“Guess you’re right.” Finch shook his head, motioning for you to sit down. You of course obliged.

“Espresso or latte?” he asked.

You hesitate. Your mother’s sweetly saccharine voice echoes through your head. Still remember what he always ordered no matter the consequence.

“espresso, please.” You preferred latte.

“another espresso lover, eh?” he joked.” Say- how did you even meet lil Al’ over here?”

“We actually just met.” Alastor mused.

“ seriously ?”

“yep.” You nodded. “ Mr.Alastor over here was being accused of Mr.Peterson’s murder.”

Finch flinched, his quick and proficient movements of coffee-making artistry coming to a halt as he listened.  Therefore, you continued. “He was unfortunate enough to be the last customer he had that day…and hadn’t it been for the murderer stepping in to confess to the murder, he might as well have been behind bars.”

It’s quiet for a moment. Finch then speaks. “…and who was the murderer?”

“his daughter’s boyfriend, it seems.”

*CLANK!! *

Everyone’s head shifts to the noise, and a wide-eyed, left-hand shaking Jake looks back. first at you, then at the mug, then at Alastor but soon his eyes switches to Finch once more.

“ Jakey —“ Finch grumbled. “how many times do we gotta go through this? be a little more careful!”

“sorry…” Jake mumbled, obviously used to such a scolding. He takes a breath and cleans up. Soon, the atmosphere shifts back into normalcy and Finch starts telling silly tales he has about his church days and his hard time with coffee-brewing at the start of his career. Something about his family all having the same tick of having ‘shaky hands’ whenever stressed, passed down through generations.

As the atmosphere quieted and your espresso gave you a bitter boost, your eyes lingered on two framed pictures right beside the coffee brewers.

Two young men, smiling while pushing each other around. On their jackets, a certain pin caught your attention.

“whose that?” rookie pointed to the other  picture curiously.

“oh, this?” Finch picked it up, looking at it with a perplexed gaze before setting it on the counter for everyone to see.

“It's our family.” He simply stated. “ me, my son jakey, and…my wife Linda.”

Something in your brain clicked. The wife. Linda. She looked awfully familiar.

She resembled Miss Sasha.

----

Fathers are complicated beings.

Parenthood is difficult. You must be emotionally open about your own feelings to understand the child’s. and for most men who have repressed their emotions for decades, such a thing becomes far too difficult to understand. Which is why they made excuses, why they claim that their responsibility merely revolves around working outside the house, to gain enough money to buy weekly essentials and pay the rent. Most fathers fear emotional connection so badly that they’d rather stay in a dead-end job rather than trying to reason with a crying child. Trying to understand why they’re so deeply saddened by such a simple thing. Something that they’d get punished for liking, let alone crying for it.

Your father was different. He was worse.

He saw you as the next heir to the family’s work. The next-in-line that must be trained no matter the cost. So rather than ignoring your needs and hobbies, he berated you for them if they were anything unrelated to detective work. If it’s not chess or puzzles, then don’t play it. if it’s not a mystery book, then don’t read it. Why are you crying? Crying is for the weak. Crying is for the confused. We’re not ignorant, that’s why we’re never allowed to live in bliss.

Safe to say, your relationship with your father has always been…complicated. To the point where you’re not even sure how you feel about him. let alone how you feel about his death.

Perhaps that’s why you knew exactly who the culprit of this case was the moment you locked eyes with them.

“alright, spit it out L/n.” Lington looked at you with annoyance. “ Why'd you make me bring these youngsters here? " especially one that’s still grieving.”

Sasha looked away. Allan took her hand in his.

Ever the nosy, Alastor also stayed behind quietly, leaning on the counter. He shared a knowing look. It seems like he cracked the case as well. ‘ of course he had’ you thought. ‘ This  murder case is simple. The most tragic cases always are.’

The only reason you decided to walk around the street and ask around was so you could get the whole picture, so you could understand things from the murderer's point of view. What kind of pressure were they in, what drove them to do such a thing? Because for this case in particular, you know that the murderer in question is no derived psychopath, nor are they someone out for blood-filled revenge.

They were just a simple baker tired of their cage.

“Let's go over this one more time,” you put your hands in your pockets, walking around in circles as the gears in your head churn and your mind sets up a small play.” The neighbours say they heard two sounds that night. The first one happened right after Mr.Alastor left, so as you know, Alastor is out of the list.”

Alastor nods in delight. “Thank you, my dear.”

“Then, all was quiet in the bakery. As Miss Sasha noted, she went back up to get some rest while his father stayed down and cleaned the place up…but that’s where you lied. Miss Sasha”

“what?”

“the neighbours said they heard a car honk. But they weren’t appalled by it because they’re used to it. your boyfriend Allan was there to pick you up, wasn’t he?”

Sasha’s eyes darted around nervously. “I…”

“That's why he immediately came here and confessed to the murder, even though no paper or radio has even talked about it yet. After all, this seems like a dead-end case, doesn’t it? all the clues are random, the only suspect they had was the unfortunate last customer, and the captain was a huge buffoon who accused anyone on the street of being the murderer just so he can get to go home sooner!”

“hey now that’s—“

“ BUT you got unlucky,” You continued with more enthusiasm, ignoring Lington’s defense. “ You see, you didn’t think that an experienced Detective would take a look at this case, would even bother to solve it..and you’re right. I really wouldn’t have. The only thing I would’ve bothered to do was convince Lington that Mr.Alastor isn’t the murderer -which I did - and then leave. But…while inspecting the body…” you take out a pin from your pocket. The purple on it shining bright. the shape resembling one of a hyacinth flower. “I noticed this, right inside Mr.Peterson’s apron.”

Jake,who was awfully quiet the entire time, gulped. Sasha took a deep,stressful breath while Allan put his head down in shame. Lington, on the other hand, seemed visibly shaken. All while Alastor merely tilted his head in curiosity and amusement.

“The hyacinths are infamous for giving out these pins to all its members.” You state. “ there are a lot of fakes out there…so the hyacinth’s made sure to add something subtle yet visible enough to point out the real from the fakes.” Despite all the protests from Sasha, you scrape the pin against the glass counter. An eerie sound fills the room for a moment until you’re finished. The glass counter has a scratch, yet the pin remains unscathed. “The centre of the pin,” you tapped it. “ it’s made from actual amethysts.”

“couldn’t you just prove that by putting it under a direct light?!” Jake protested, eyes furrowed in pure annoyance by your antic.

“Meh,thought I could prove my point better this way.” You shrugged. “Also this was funnier.”

While everyone grumbled in response to that, Alastor merely chuckled.

“moving on. Yes, this is the real deal. Which means, whatever happened here, might’ve been caused by the hyacinth. Or at least- that’s what my hunch was at the start. So, knowing that Sasha here was lying to me about  a few things, and Allan was so gullible that he didn’t even know how many times he shot Peterson, I knew something else was afoot. Which- this leads us to one of the main questions of the day. How did no one here the gunshot?” you point to the pin. “well, this is your answer.”

“huh?” Allan said in pure confusion. “am-am I the only one that doesn’t get what’s going on here?”

Everyone stayed quiet.

“shit. I am?!” he gasped. “How is the pin related to the noise exactly?”

“the hyacinth,” you looked at him sympathetically. “Are infamous for their ‘game-changing’ equipment. Their silent guns. It’s the reason why they stayed on top for so long. just like the pins, only members of the gang would ever be equipped with these. Mr.Peterson’s own gun was found under the cashier counter, probably stored there for whenever a robbery happens. But that leads to the next question. whose gun was this?”

You point to Jake.

“That was exactly answered when I visited your café. The second framed picture, the one Finch didn’t show…two men were on it, both with the hyacinth pins.” Jake couldn’t help but sigh at your words. “ it was pretty easy to connect the dots…especially after considering what Miss Claudine told me at my visit. “

“according to her, two hyacinth members one day fell in love with the same girl and dropped everything to be with her. It’s an action that led to obvious misfortune. Ah- before I continue…how old are you Jake?”

Jake hesitated for a moment before answering. “nineteen.”

“And you, Miss Sasha?”

“….twenty-three.”

You snap your fingers in realization. “so, Linda, whom I assume is the girl in the old rumours, chose Mr.Peterson. They had a simple life together, and I’m guessing Finch couldn’t just turn back and start over again, not when he has just started a new business and bet everything on it. and so, they stood head to head in business, while awkwardly avoiding each other outside of work hours. a pretty simple story, yes? But, something was unaccounted for. You see, Mr.Peterson had… a bit of an anger problem. Something that, I’m sure Linda has become fed up with and got a divorce. And so, she went to the only person she could trust, while also being able to keep an eye on her daughter’s safety. You can all guess what happens next.”

“this, leads us to one common knowledge about the Peterson family that everyone in the neighbourhood knows about. Peterson was incredibly protective of his daughter. Especially ever since Linda’s mysterious death. Which, leads us to motive.” You look back at Sasha. “Miss Sasha, your father didn’t approve of your relationship with Allan, did he?”

“...is this information really necessary? There’s a reason why I didn’t mention it.”

“did you not mention it because it’s unnecessary or..did you not mention it because it gave you a motive ?”

Sasha stays quiet. All eyes settle on her.

“listen, I won’t force anyone to over-share their private information, nor would do I want to go into details about the other rumours I heard from Miss Claudine…like I’ve said before, whether I was here or wasn’t, wouldn’t have mattered. Because in the end, no matter how long it would've taken, the truth would be revealed. Some detectives would scroll through all the unsolved cases in the cabinets and immediately figure out who the murderer was. so, it's best to come out now with whatever parts of the truth you want to be revealed, rather than being forced to say every single detail of it and perhaps even getting a longer sentence for having it remain hidden for so long. “

Jake, who was visibly shaking, came closer to you as an act of intimidation. “Now you listen here, ‘detective’.” His tone was as shaky as his hands were. “ you don’t know the shit we’ve been through. And you don’t need to know. I swear if you keep pressing on about this I wil-“

“It's over, Jake.” Sasha’s voice was cold, exhausted from the world around her. “We've been caught. It’s over.”

Jake stays quiet. His breath heavy and tears threatening to fall.

“…our mother was… complicated .” Sasha spoke solemnly. “ she lived a completely sheltered life..to the point where she never noticed those red flags my father possessed ...which is why I didn’t want to turn out like her. I didn’t want to sit around waiting in a small  bakery like she did. Living my life with naivety until my father decided who he should marry me off to..so..I used to sneak out a lot in my life..which...led to a lot of unsavory fights and threats…at some point, I just couldn’t handle it anymore. I mean- the man wouldn’t even let me continue my studies at least. He wanted me to stay here forever, continuing the business till the day he dies…so…I took the matter into my own hands and sealed his fateHe won’t let me go till he dies, right? well, I’ll just push the grim reaper a lil bit, force him to take my father’s life sooner than what god has planned.”

“but I knew that if I killed him, it would be too obvious..so I needed someone else to shoot the gun instead someone people would’ve never suspected, someone who would remain unseen…that’s when both Jake and Allan offered to shoot for me…I didn’t want to put any of them at risk, but I knew that if I wanted to be free, I had to take up their offer and choose between them. I couldn’t possibly choose Allan, because the neighbours would obviously assume he was the murderer right from the start. How many times have we heard the same story ? ‘loverboy kills unapproving parents to get to the love of his life? ’”

“oh, those stories are always a bore.” Alastor quipped.

“but Jake? No one outside the neighborhood knew my relationship with him. and I was certain that no cop would look that deep into it..not if I acted completely clueless and kept my mouth shut. Of course, I didn’t mean to immediately kill him at first…that was plan B. the original plan was to convince him to let me leave. Allan brought the car, I packed my luggage and soon after the first customer left, I told him everything. He of course blew up. started shouting out nonsense while beating the hell out of Allan…I panicked and called Jake, telling him to come over immediately through the exit…right at that moment he was tending to the small garden at the cafés backyard.”

“hence the dirt-covered footprints..” Lington mumbled.

“It all went by so quickly…one moment, Jake was rushing into the café with a gun…the next, he shot my father twice. One accidentally on the shoulder, the other right above his head to seal the deal.”

“then, I saw you two at the café.” Jake continued. “I knew that you being there meant bad news…but I just..didn;t know what to do. hell I didn’t even know what exactly happened. Only that you were looking deeper into the case. It was at your second visit that I finally realised what was going on..but...”

“It was too late.” You concluded. “and with that, this case is closed .”

----

“I…I don’t get it detective.'' The rookie looked frustrated and deeply confused. “why didn’t Miss Sasha just shoot Peterson in the shoulder and make a run for it? why was she so certain she had to kill him?”

“…we’ll never know.” you shrugged. “but...when you see someone so sure about killing their own caretaker…imagine what the caretaker must’ve done to force them to take such leaps.”

Rookie stays  quiet at that, scribbling everything down so he could write it all in a coherent page later for the station. You leave him be, leaning back at the wall, watching both Sasha and Jake get under handcuffs and ushered into the cars. You take a mental note to talk to Lington later about somehow helping them get a convenient sentence. Perhaps with a few pulled strings you both can convince the judge to send both Sasha to work at an elderly shelter, and for the main murderer, Jake, you can perhaps call up a few pals that can offer him protection. Though…that won’t be of much help. It’s the best you can do.

Something about that frustrates you.

This entire case’s conclusion, frankly, has been nothing but frustrating. Yet, you of all people know how bitter some truths can be. And the consequences of it aren't any less sweeter.

“What's befuddling your mind  this time, Dear Detective?” the ever so confident and cheerful voice of Alastor snaps you out of your thoughts. “you seem quite exhausted.”

“ really ? That’s a shocker.” You scoffed, taking a deep breath as you try to let the exhaustion in your body fade away. Silence overtakes the place for a moment, a serene one that makes you gaze up at the now darkened sky. It’s when you see the stars that you realize that you’ve been out working for an entire day and you can feel your exhaustion flowing back in once more, as if it was never gone in the first place.

“I must say,” Alastor chimed in. “This story’s ending was quite…well, uneventful . Shocking, yes. But not the climax I was expecting.”

“…I was thinking the same thing,” you confessed. “but, that’s the truth with most cases.” your hands went into your pocket, gently touching the hyacinth pin in your hand. “ it’s not always like those dramatic antics that Sherlock Homes or Hercules Poirot find themselves in…don’t get me wrong, it does happen. Just…not as much.”

“Guess it’s my unlucky day.” Alastor grumbled, you couldn’t help but smirk.

“well, you should've known that today was bad news for you the moment you got accused of murder, Mr.Alastor”

Alastor was quiet for a second, a strange smile on his face. “…I guess I should have.” He swiftly turns around to you, the scenery that he was watching before it seemingly far too boring for his tastes now. “any good host of a radio show would know to dramatise the situation just to keep his audience's ears glued to the radio. “ he then sighed, a mischievous smirk on his face. “but I am a man of my word detective. I will say nothing but the truth, no matter how bitterly boring it can be.”

“thank you, Mr.Alastor.” you give him a genuine smile. “I hope you weren;t too bothered by following me around.”

Alastor gives a small smile on his own. He reaches into his pockets, pulling out a card and extending it to you. “Why, it was an absolute pleasure to be around you, my dear.” His eyes squint. “ I can sense that you have a deep sense of showmanship. You’re a fellow entertainer when you need to be. You just remained serious because the situation needed it. this part of your story was anything but a comedy, and you’ve accommodated to it wonderfully.”

“Color me charmed.” You mused, taking the card and inspecting it. His radio-show’s title was right at the center, his own name written beneath it in cursive.

“It would be a pleasure to have you listening in for tomorrow morning.” He then adds,” especially since you’re the very star of the show, my dear.”

You lock eyes with Alastor. Something beneath those brown irises intrigue you, something behind the charmfull act he’s putting on. He's right, you both are merely actors on a stage. Both filling in your roles to continue the show destiny has written for you. And something tells you that this won’t be the last time you’re meeting him. nor do you want it to be the last time.

“…I’ll think about it.” you bought a radio on your way back home that very night.

---A/N-----

RAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH MY GOD OH MY GOD IM ALIVE HIIIIII

Ok before I yap for a few paragraphs lemme just say THAT THERE WILL BE MORE CHAPTERS WITH MUCH MORE ALASTOR INTERACTIONS I PROMISE. I JUST FELT LIKE THIS CHAPTER WAS NECESSARY BECAUSE IT’S BASICALLY AN INTRODUCTION TO EVERYTHING THAT IS ABOUT TO GO DOWN. IT’S A PROLOGUE FOR EVERYTHING AND I PROMISE THERE WILL BE MUCH MORE SHENANIGANS AND WAY MORE FUN CASES IN THE NEXT CHAPTER!!!!!!!!!!!

This was my first time ever writing a detective story, and obviously it has a few flaws. I would love any sort of thoughts and criticism on how to improve it. Though, do keep in mind that this story is more about relationships than it is mystery solving.The cases we’ll look through will be mere vessels for the deeper story, an incredibly complicated plot about two incredibly mentally ill and weird people finding themselves sickeningly obsessed. This is merely the beginning, and I cannot wait to see how you’ll all react when all the gears are set into place, and the angst machine starts working.

I’m planning on only having around three to give chapters related to the ‘human’ side of the story. Because yes, a little spoiler: a lot of the plot will be written down for after their deaths. But before that I decided that I must write the human part first, because without it the emotional weight of it all will be gone.

IF YOU SEE ANY PRONOUN TYPOS WHERE I WRITE SHE/HE RELATED WORDS RATHER THAN KEEPING IT GN FOR Y/N PLS TELL ME I'LL FIX IT IMMEDIATELY RAHHHH

COMMENT PLS PLS COMMENT PLS PLS PLS *gets shot*

[asmolbirb]

For the WIP ask game, i am contractually obligated to ask about the one where they fuck in the crevasse 💕

ajdkakdlalfls it’s such a funny WIP name that it’s been hyped up a ton and now I’m terrified I’m gonna disappoint people whenever I actually finish and post the fic =w=

it’s a Temeraire fic, Tharkay/Laurence, set during a scene in the last book where Laurence and Tharkay are camped out on what is described as an ice ledge within a yawning ice crevasse accessible only through a small gap in the Alps, all while Laurence is recovering from a Serious Injury TM. it’s an incredibly funny premise but it’s also a little heartbreaking. and because im incapable of being normal about things, I looked at that and went “okay, now add sexual tension to the equation”

it’s also the first story I’ve written in like 3 years, so im experiencing a lot of growing pains. like I have to write every paragraph 4-5 times before I get anything salvageable. but I am having fun with it, and that’s what really matters, I think

here’s another unedited excerpt that i’m pretty happy with! uhhh spoiler warning for references to injuries that these two morons sustain later in the series:

Laurence did not know how long he’d sat like that, taking inventory of the myriad sounds comprising the silence of the crevasse, when a new sound filtered into his awareness: a methodical susurration, hushed and unfamiliar.

It was easy enough to divine the source, once Laurence had mustered the energy to search for it. He had only to turn aside to find Tharkay rubbing his hands together, ostensibly seeking respite from the aches of his own injuries. A sympathetic twinge flashed through Laurence, not just in his bullet wound but deeper still, through the lashmarks on his back, his once-wrenched leg. He knew well the phantom aches that accompanied a sudden turn of the weather or a sharp drop in temperature. He imagined Tharkay’s hands ached fiercely, shot through with cold as they must be, and imagined, too, how little relief his stiff motions might be yielding him.

He recalled another Tharkay, hunched miserably in a sickbed half the world away–a Tharkay whose fingers, still bruised and splinted, had been unable to apply the healing salve he’d been prescribed, and for whom Laurence had carried out that task so imperative to his recovery. Driven by the memory, Laurence shifted to sit on his heels so that he might face Tharkay more fully, reaching out even as he said, “Here, allow me–” Before the words had half left his mouth, he had caught Tharkay’s hands in his and begun sweeping his thumbs across the skin in familiar motions.

[joey-the-boy]

I love the way they shot the "big decision" scenes in the new season of Heartbreak High (spoilers under the cut)

in scenes like Ca$h choosing which car to get into and Spider choosing weather or not to follow Voss, they just cut away before we see the decision being made. *you the viewer* have to have faith that the characters are going to make the right decision

in later scenes it is revealed that they made the right choice, but between then and the initial choice, you just don't know. you have to trust that these people can change, that Ca$h can stand up for himself, that Spider can apologize, that these people can be better. I think it speaks to the overall message of the season really well

[animanga-bonanza]

i have so many feelings and thoughts about this latest episode of x men 97 -- spoilers under the cut

first, my favorite highlights/takeaways:

As usual, the dialogue is S-tier and this show is really good about putting the characters through dilemmas that have real stakes, and having the characters navigate those dilemmas in ways that both make sense for them and require them to move forward

Xavier is a confirmed bottom 😂 my man was ready to be a PET for this glamorous space lady

Loved that moment where Xavier literally takes the Shi’ar to class and starts SCHOOLING them 😂 he said “hold up I’m a teacher. lemme teach y’all something right now” 👨‍🏫

When talking about what he wanted to remember from Earth, he only mentioned Magneto, his “old friend” (YOU MEAN YOUR EX. YOUR SOULMATE. THE LOVE OF YOUR LIFE. C’MON CHARLES)

Speaking of Xavier x Magneto, when he finds out what happened to Magnus…😭 it was already heartbreaking seeing his reaction to Gambit's death

I’m certain the Shi’ar stuff is going to be the main conflict in Season Two or Three; Season One is gonna be focused on X-Men vs Sinister. Having this warmongering galactic empire on the brink of a coup that believes Earth is a “ghetto”, it’s not gonna turn out well for Earth.

I’m glad this episode confirmed that Sinister is behind the Genosha attack (though idk he might be working for someone else); writers sometimes keep their cards too close to their chest because they’re afraid that if they reveal their hand too soon, the audience will lose interest. But in my experience, it’s often more fun when the writers show you their hand and then use their cards to build a magnificent tower. Knowing who all the players are, their goals and motivations, and watching them duke it out is the stuff that drama is made of. It’s kind of like the Hitchcock principle of showing your audience the bomb under the table in order to raise suspense.

I’m REALLY happy that Storm is back, I missed her so much these past couple episodes! Aaah I’m a sucker for characters with weather powers, and hearing about the stuff Storm can do in the comics, I’m looking forward to seeing her use her abilities in a range of creative ways

Now for some analysis/ramblings!!

Storm and Xavier’s struggles mirror each other. Both characters are having to choose between comfort/happiness and duty/hardship.

Storm believes she’d be happier as a normal human. She could leave all her past troubles behind, build a new life with Forge. But that would be a betrayal of herself, her values, and her community. The Adversary’s line about Storm being afraid of living more than dying cuts deep. Storm was never afraid to put her life on the line to protect others. She literally took a bullet for Magneto. Her biggest fear is living her full truth, perhaps because her power is so great that it might alienate her from other people, even from her fellow mutants. As Magneto said (and I paraphrase), she is the closest thing to a goddess their world has ever seen.

And IIRC, part of Storm’s backstory involved her being worshiped/revered as a goddess or holy priestess. I think this past experience made Storm wary of embracing her full power because that kind of existence is lonely.

Honestly, as a black woman, Storm’s journey resonates so much. In real life, black women are often expected to be superhuman, the “strong black woman” who can shoulder her own burdens and everyone else’s. Storm suppressing her own powers for fear of being put on a pedestal as this flawless “queen” or “goddess” who can reliably solve everyone else’s problems? Yeah. That’s some real stuff. Storm, like everyone else, deserves to be vulnerable. To be protected and cared for instead of having to always protect and care for others.

But the expectation to be "strong" is something that Storm seems to have internalized; she didn't have to leave the X-Men when she lost her powers, but she left in part because she felt like she had to deal with her grief alone. And I hope that, even though she’s coming back to the X-Men with her powers fully realized, she’s able to rely on her friends for comfort. I also love that this series emphasizes her friendship with Jean, and I hope to see more of their dynamic going forward.

As for Xavier, he’s having to choose between life on his home planet, where he’s surrounded by family but having to deal with their “drama” plus the persecution of his community, and life among the stars, away from the troubles of Earth but still not accepted as a full person. Either way, he has to play the role of the teacher, the wise mentor who must guide others to the path of enlightened coexistence. It’s a tough burden to bear.

I’m not disabled, but it seems to me that the way Xavier is burdened with the responsibility of having to be a “role model” for others mirrors the way that society treats disabled people in real life. Again, I’m definitely out of my depth here and would love to hear disabled people’s thoughts on the matter, but it’s my understanding that society tends to dehumanize disabled people as either pitiable/contemptible burdens or admirable/brave warriors who can “rise above” their condition. Some of that seems to be baked into certain aspects of how Xavier was conceived as a character and the way he’s often framed by the narrative, but it looks like X Men 97 is aware of this and attempting to interrogate it a little.

Anyway, this episode was really great, a nice breather after the devastation of last week’s episode while still thematically rich and moving the story forward.

[sebstanaddict]

Too Good To Be True

Sebastian Stan x Reader Story

Summary: A romantic comedy story where Sebastian Stan falls in love with reader but she is not who he thinks she is.

Facing no other choice, reader is forced to end her relationship with Sebastian. Will she be able to go through breaking up with him? And if she could, how would she survive it? Find out more in this chapter.

Pairings : Sebastian Stan x Female!Reader

Chapters : 20/28 (Might add more)

Chapter List >

Warning : fluff, break up, a little violence reference, spoiler warning for Pumping Black (a possible future project for Sebastian. I use an important plot point but changed the scenes and added some new characters)

Word count : 8.6k words

---

Chapter 20 - Beautiful Heartbreak 

Los Angeles International Airport, August 20th 2023 - 2.30 pm

A plane touched down at a runway in Los Angeles International Airport, its tires screeched across the pavement as the pilot hit the brakes, trying to slow the airplane down.

Y/n looked out the window wistfully. The sun was shining bright, there were no clouds in the sky and everyone on the plane seemed to be in a good mood as most of the passengers seemed to be tourists to LA, intending to enjoy their summer holiday there. Her heart did not mirror the weather outside at all, however. In fact it was the complete opposite. It was covered with a dark cloud as she continuously thought about the horrible thing she planned to do that afternoon.

Breaking up with Sebastian. That was her very first agenda that afternoon. After that, she planned on going straight to Aurora's parents and told them that she was willing to marry Adam. Thinking about what she planned to do made her shudder.

How could she break up with Sebastian, the kindest, most incredible and handsome man in the world only to marry Adam, a man that she barely knew?

But if she didn't do it, Aurora wouldn't give her the money needed for her mother's treatments. So she didn't have a choice.

It was really annoying how Aurora kept on having control over her life even though they switched bodies. She wondered if she would ever be free of her control.

The airplane finally stopped and parked right next to the terminal. She got out of it moments later, carrying a backpack on her shoulders and dragging a small suitcase behind her.

Sebastian had promised to pick her up so once she passed the exit of the terminal her eyes immediately searched for him.

It wasn't hard to find him as he was surrounded by fans, wanting to take selfies with him. His eyes caught hers and he smiled wide.

“Guys, I’m so sorry but I have to go. Aurora is here. But thank you. Thank you.” Sebastian said, releasing his hand from the shoulder of one of his fans who was taking a picture with him.

“Thank you, Sebastian!” Her fans chorused and he laughed. Then he turned his back on them and ran a little towards her.

“Mi reina, I’ve missed you!” He exclaimed out loud as he finally got to her.

He opened his arms wide and scooped her into his arms, picking her up from the floor, making her giggle.

The clouds covering her heart somehow went away for a moment as they embraced each other tight. She buried her face in his hair and inhaled his intoxicating smell. Oh how much she was going to miss him. A tear dropped from her eyes and she couldn't help but sob.

“Mi reina? Are you crying?” Sebastian asked gently into her ear. 

“Uh huh..” She could only mumble and sniffle.

“Oh honey. Sshh.. it’s gonna be okay. Everything is gonna be okay.” He said as he put her down on the floor slowly and his hand caressed her hair gently.

“I’m sorry.” She stopped crying and released herself from him.

“It’s okay, mi reina. Care to tell me what made you so sad? Did you expect me to bring you a bouquet of flowers or something?” He asked, looking down at her with his eyebrows knitted together, making her laugh a little.

“No, Sebastian. I just.. I just have a lot in my mind.” She sighed as she wiped the tears from her eyes.

“Hmm.. how is Y/n’s mother? Is her condition bad?” He asked.

“Well.. for someone who is suffering from breast cancer she actually looks fine. She just looks tired most days. But she’s starting her treatment. Hopefully she will gradually get better.” She replied.

“Oh that's good to hear. I’m glad.” He smiled.

“Yeah, me too. The money from you really helped. Otherwise she wouldn't be able to do the treatment. They're really thankful to you for that and they asked me to tell you how much they appreciate it.” She said.

“Oh, I’m happy that I can help. I’ll probably give Y/n a call later on.” He said, smiling at her.

“Yeah, I’m sure she’ll appreciate it.” She nodded.

“Yeah. Anyway, shall we?” He asked, beckoning his head towards the parking lot.

“Yeah. Let’s go.” She nodded.

He picked her suitcase and dragged it behind him while his other hand held her hand tight.

The feeling of his warm hand on hers felt like home to her. Her eyes started to water as she realized it might be the last time they held hands like that. She blinked rapidly to try to stop herself from crying and thankfully she succeeded. She didn't want to be such a cry baby in front of him. She needed to try to be strong. Besides, it wasn't the end of the world even if it seemed like it to her.

“Alright, where to, mi amor?” He asked after they settled in his car.

“My place or your place?” He continued, turning to her.

“Umm.. yours.” She said. She didn't feel right having him drive her all the way to her house only to dump him. She planned on taking a taxi or asking Nelson to pick her up after she was done breaking up with him. The thought made her feel a pang again in her heart and she felt like crying again. But she took a deep breath and tried to remember her mother. She needed to be strong for her mother.

“Okay.” Sebastian nodded then he started to drive.

“So, how was Berkeley?” He asked as they entered the highway.

“Oh.. umm.. it was okay.” She shrugged.

“Did you get the chance to visit San Francisco too?” He asked.

“Yeah, I did. The clinic where Y/n’s mother has her treatment is actually in San Francisco. So I did go there.”

“Oh okay. Are you planning on visiting them again?”

“Hmm.. I think, yeah. Why?”

“Maybe I could come. I would love to show Y/n my support too.”

Her heart felt warm at that but then the dark cloud covered her heart again, knowing what she was going to do later on and how she was going to miss this golden hearted man so much.

“She would love that.” She said, smiling wistfully at him.

“Yeah, maybe we can go together after we finish shooting.”

She didn't say anything back but just nodded.

The ride from the airport to his penthouse felt so long. Traffic jams were everywhere and completely unavoidable. She thought she was going to suffer for the whole trip but Sebastian, despite seemingly pissed off at the traffic too, managed to make the whole trip enjoyable.

He told her funny stories that happened during shooting when she was away. All of them involve Anthony of course. Making her laugh and making the cloud in her heart seemed to be gone again. When he finally ran out of stories to tell, he turned the radio on and they ended up having a karaoke session in the car.

They were belting up the last lines of the new Taylor Swift single when they finally arrived at his apartment.

“Home sweet home.” Sebastian commented as they entered his penthouse making her feel a pang in her heart.

As soon as they entered his living room he turned to her, picked her hand and guided her towards the sofa.

“I’ve missed you so much, mi reina.” He said as they sat on the sofa facing each other.

“I’ve missed you too.” She said, her bottom lip trembled.

He smiled and his hand reached out to touch her cheek, making her breath hitched.

“You’re so beautiful, mi reina.” He whispered, stroking her cheek gently with his thumb, making her heart flutter.

He gazed at her intently, his eyes darkened with desire and he placed both hands on the sides of her face. He leaned closer to her and her eyes closed.

No! She couldn't let him kiss her. She would just end up not being able to say the words if he did. She wouldn't be able to let him go. They would end up making love again and she would just end up clinging to him forever. 

So before his lips touched hers, she opened her eyes and leaned away, startling him.

“Mi reina, is something wrong?” He asked with a puzzled expression.

“I’m sorry, Sebastian. There's something I need to talk to you about.” She finally said, the cloud came back to cover her heart and her mouth turned down into a frown.

“Oh.. okay.” He nodded as he released her face from his hold. 

“This is very hard for me to do.” She sighed as she looked down, unable to look him in the eyes.

“Mi reina, what is going on? You’re scaring me.” He said as she felt the guilt crept into her heart. 

Come on, just do it. Do it fast, like ripping a bandaid. She tried to encourage herself.

“I.. I’m breaking up with you. I'm sorry.” She finally said and she looked up at him.

His eyes widened and his jaw dropped.

“What?!” He asked with a hint of disbelief.

“I’m so sorry Sebastian, but I can't keep seeing you.” She continued, her voice shook as she tried hard not to cry.

“But why? Did I do something wrong?!” He asked, his expression looked puzzled.

“Oh God, no, Sebastian. You’re the best boyfriend anyone can have! The problem lies with me!”

“What.. what do you mean?”

“After seeing Y/n’s mother I realized I’ve been a bad daughter to my mom. I keep disappointing her. I.. I don't want to keep being a bad daughter. God forbid, I don't want to find out that someday she’s sick like Y/n’s mother and I caused it because of how disappointed she feels towards me.” She said. 

Yes, she figured out he might understand if she brought up Aurora's mother knowing how he loves his own mother so much.

Understanding seemed to dawn in him as he continued to stare at her.

“So, I.. I.. “ she sighed and took a deep breath.

“I decided to agree to marry Adam. It's what will make her and my dad happy.” She finally said.

She felt like she could see Sebastian's heart crumbling behind his eyes and it broke her.

“You’re sacrificing your own happiness for your parents?” He slowly asked.

“Yes. I’m so sorry, Sebastian.” She said as tears welled up in her eyes.

“But there must be something else that you can do to make them happy other than marrying Adam. There has to be! We don't live in the middle ages anymore. Arranged marriage is supposed to be a thing of the past!” He said, his voice high.

“I know but this is my parents we’re talking about. You know how controlling they are. But in the end I realized it’s for my own good.” She said, hoping he would understand.

“Marrying Adam is not going to be for your own good, Aurora. Can’t you see your parents are just using you?! It’s a strategic move for them! Not for you! Having Adam marry you means more access to his family. And I’m sure you know Adam’s family is richer and more influential than yours.” He explained.

She didn't respond immediately. She didn't realize that fact before. But still, whatever reason he could come up with, she had no choice, she had to break up with him.

“I know, Sebastian. Despite that, I think it's for everyone’s good that I marry Adam. My parents will be happy and for me it's more important than anything right now. You have no idea how it felt to see Y/n's mother realizing that one day it could be my own mother. I just.. I just can't. I’m.. I’m really sorry.” She said as she reached out and touched his hand.

“So, our love means nothing to you?” He asked and her heart plummeted at that.

“Oh God, Sebastian. Our love means the world to me! I have never felt so strongly about anyone but you! But, life is not just about love between a couple but also love between a mother and a daughter and in this case I’m.. I’m really sorry to say but I have to choose my mother.” She said heavily.

He didn't immediately respond to that but continued to stare at her, his eyebrows furrowed.

“I’m so sorry, Sebastian.” Her voice shook as she squeezed his hand tight.

Conflict was brewing in his eyes and gradually she could see his eyes changed from disbelief, anger, disappointment, sadness and eventually his eyes cleared and showed understanding.

“You know, if it's for any other reason I wouldn't let you go. Ever. You are the best thing that ever happened to me, Aurora Watson.” His voice shook and tears dropped from his eyes.

Looking at him crying prompted her to cry too.

“Oh Sebastian. I’m so sorry.” She said as she reached towards him and hugged him tight.

They cried in each other's arms for a while. Her heart broke into a thousand pieces and tears seemed to flow forever from her eyes. She didn't know if she could ever survive this. She didn't want to lose him. He was the only man she ever truly fell in love with and she knew she would never feel the same about anyone else but him. 

“I love you, mi reina hermosa. No matter what. Even if we’re not together anymore. I still love you.” He said as he released himself from her embrace.

She nodded as they wiped the tears from each other's eyes.

“I love you too mi rey. I really do. Even if I’m with Adam, know that it’s only you in my heart. Forever..” She said gently and he smiled wistfully at her.

His beautiful eyes gazed at her with love but also sadness. Then with a quick movement he captured her lips in his, making her lose her breath.

This time they really kissed like it was their last time together and before they knew it, their kisses became more passionate and one by one pieces of clothing started to drop all over the sofa around them.

The last time. It really was their last time together.

It was the last time she could feel his lips on hers. The last time she could feel his breath on her ears. The last time she could inhale his signature intoxicating scent. The last time she could feel his touch on her. And the last time they could be united fully in body and soul.

He made love to her slowly and gently, like he didn't want it to end so soon. She didn't want it to end so soon either.

She tried memorizing every single detail of him. Of his gorgeous ocean blue eyes when he gazed down at her with love and lust. Of the touch of his lips when he planted feather light kisses along her body. Of his husky voice when he whispered sweet nothing into her ears. Of the shape of his sculpted shoulder and bicep as he propped himself on top of her. Of the completeness she felt when he finally entered her fully.

Oh how much she was going to miss everything about him.

“I love you.. so so much.. mi reina hermosa..” He said breathlessly after they finally reached their peak together.

“I love you so much too mi rey guapo.” She replied breathlessly.

They stayed in each other's arms for a while, enjoying being one in heart, body and soul for a moment in time. Every inch of their bodies were touching each other that she didn't know where he started and where she ended. The moment felt bittersweet to her and she didn't want it to end. He had his face buried in her hair and suddenly she felt his shoulder shake. He was crying again and she couldn't help but feel the tears streaming down her face too.

“I’m sorry.” He sighed as he lifted his face from her hair and stared down at her, his eyes were red and wet full with anguish, breaking her heart even more.

“No, I’m sorry.. I never wanted it to end like this.” She said as she reached her hand up to his face and wiped the tears from his eyes. “But it has to.”

He sighed. “I know.”

For a moment they just stared at each other. Love and sadness equally present in both pairs of eyes.

“Te quiero mucho.. mi hermosa reina.” He finally whispered as he rested his forehead on hers.

“Yo también, te quiero mucho.. mi rey guapo.” She whispered back and he smiled a little.

He leaned down and kissed her again gently, making her heart soar in her chest. Then he broke the kiss and kissed her forehead gently.

“My heart belongs to you forever, Aurora Watson.” He said and she felt a pang in her heart.

He looked down at her and smiled wistfully then finally he let her go and stood up.

They put their clothes back on in silence and when they were finally done, they sat side by side, hands intertwined with each other as they gazed at the beautiful skyline view of LA through the large floor to ceiling window in front of them. The same view that bore witness to the start of their love story now bore witness to the end of their love story, much too prematurely.

“I have to go.” She finally said after a while.

“I know. Let me drive you home.” He said.

“No, I don't want to bother you, Sebastian. I can just take a taxi or call Nelson.” She quickly said.

“Aurora, it’s okay. Let me drive you home one last time.” He said, turning to look at her as his hand squeezed hers gently.

She didn't want to bother him but she knew he would just insist on driving her home so she nodded.

The drive back to Aurora's castle felt like the longest drive she ever took. They didn't say anything to each other. They just enjoyed each other's presence for one last time before the inevitable happened.

Her heart bled as they finally arrived at Aurora’s castle and he looked at her sadly.

“I love you, Sebastian Stan.” She said with all her heart and he smiled.

“I love you too, Aurora Watson.” He replied and she felt a pang in her heart.

He quickly leaned close to her and planted a deep and loving kiss on her lips, making her lose her breath. She couldn't help but drown in his love as he continued to kiss her.

She knew she wouldn't be able to let him go if they continued on like this so with a heavy heart she pushed him away gently.

“I have to go. I’m really sorry.” She said and he nodded even though his eyes showed deep disappointment.

“Take care, Aurora.” He said and she nodded.

“Take care of yourself too, Sebastian.” She said and he nodded.

Moments later she finally got out of his car. She looked back at Sebastian as she felt a gaping hole in her chest and gave him a little wave.

He nodded, his eyes showing great sadness at her, then he finally turned his face away from her and drove away, leaving her alone in front of the entrance of the castle.

Her knees felt weak so she dropped onto the floor and started crying again as the large gaping hole became even bigger in her chest and she realized that she really had lost a part of herself.

—

The Manor, 594 S Mapleton Dr, Holmby Hills, Los Angeles, California - August 20th 2023 - 8 pm

Her heart beat faster in her chest as Nelson drove her to Holmby Hills where Aurora's parents lived. 

After Sebastian left and she had cried to her heart’s content, confusing Gabriella, Rosa and Nelson, she finally contacted Aurora's mother telling her she was going to visit them that night. Aurora's mother sounded cold on the phone but she of course allowed her to come. 

Her eyes widened as they finally arrived at Aurora's parents' house. Even from the outside she knew it was a massive luxurious house as she could see the huge building even from outside of the gate.

Nelson stopped in front of the gate and the gate automatically opened. He looked to the left where there was a security post and saluted the security guard there then he drove the car inside.

Her jaw dropped as she looked upon the vast circular driveway in front of the huge French style house in front of her. If Edith had a huge house, well, Aurora's parents had an even larger house than Edith. It looked like a castle coming straight out of France. 

Aurora's parents' house was undoubtedly one of the finest estates in the world. It majestically sat in the heart of Holmby Hills, the same area as Edith's house. It was entirely clad in limestone and covered thousands of sqft. 

Nelson drove the car past a big fountain in the middle of the driveway, right across from the entrance. The house and the fountain looked beautiful with soft warm yellow lights showering them.  

She felt like she was going to enter the dwelling of royalties as she stepped out of the car and slowly walked towards the  entrance. 

She took a deep breath as she stopped in front of the door, her stomach in knots as she prepared herself to face Aurora's parents. She was just about to knock on the front door when it was opened from the inside, startling her.

The door opened revealing a woman wearing a maid uniform. Her gray hair was pulled up into a bun and she smiled a little as she saw her.

“Miss Watson, it's so nice to see you.” The woman said as she opened the door wider and she walked in slowly.

“Umm.. nice to see you too..” She trailed, not knowing what the woman's name was.

“Come.. come.. your parents are waiting for you.” The woman said as she walked further into the house and she followed her.

Her mouth dropped open as she saw a grand chandelier hanging from the ceiling in the middle of the entrance. Two huge marble circular staircases were on the sides of the entrance leading to the upper floors. The interior of the house was of course luxurious with black, white and beige color scheme. 

Everything was so shiny and meticulously clean. She wondered how many maids Aurora's parents' employed. She was sure a lot of people were needed to make sure the whole estate was maintained well.

The woman continued walking further into the house and she followed her. They finally entered one of the living rooms in the house which had huge white sofas and a grand piano by the window. 

Her heart beat even faster as she saw Emily Watson and Richard Watson sitting on the sofas. 

“Mr and Mrs Watson, Miss Watson is here.” The woman announced.

“Yes, I can see that Maria. Thank you. Make sure dinner is served in half an hour.” Emily commanded and the woman, who apparently was named Maria, nodded.

“Yes, Mrs. Watson.” Maria responded. She courtseyed then turned around and left, making her really feel like she was facing royalty.

“So, Aurora, what brings you here? Are you finally getting your common sense back?” Emily asked coldly.

“Mom, dad, I.. umm..” She stammered.

“Emily, don't be too cold with her. Aurora, darling, come here.” Richard said, extending his hand towards her.

She walked closer to him and hugged him briefly. “How are you, dad?”

“For a seventy year old man I’m doing good, darling. Especially now that you’re here. I was starting to get worried about you.” Richard responded.

“I’m really sorry, dad.” She sighed and Richard smiled.

“It's alright, darling. I’m just happy to see you here.” Richard said and she smiled. Apparently Richard wasn't as bad as she thought.

“Mom.. I’m.. I’m really sorry.” She turned to Emily, her eyebrows furrowed.

“I regret what happened last time. I was so disrespectful to you and to dad, and I’m really sorry.” She said, her head hung.

Emily sighed and her cold expression slowly turned more relaxed.

“Aurora.. I can't deny that your actions and words hurt me. We just want what's best for you and you chose to disrespect us.” Emily responded, her eyes bore into her, scaring her a little

“And I’m sorry about that, mom, I really am. That's why I’m here.” She said.

“Sorry is not enough, darling.” Emily said, and her heart dropped to her stomach.

“I’m sorry, mom. But.. I have broken up with Sebastian Stan, and I’m looking forward to.. umm.. to start a relationship with Adam. If that’s what you want me to do.” She slowly explained and Emily’s face immediately brightened at that.

“Oh Aurora, darling, you have no idea how happy that makes me feel. Come here, darling.” Emily smiled wide and opened her arms.

She went towards Emily and hugged her. Emily pulled her in closer. The act reminded her of her own mother and she felt a tug in her heart. 

Her own mother would never do this to her. She would never force her to do something she didn't want to do. Heck, she even hid the fact she had cancer from her just because she didn't want to bother her work. How very different her mother and Aurora's mother were.

“You look off, my darling.” Emily said, releasing her from her embrace and stared at her intently.

“Yeah, it’s been a very hard week for me mom. Breaking up with Sebastian was not easy.” She sighed.

“I see. Well, I’m sure you’ll forget him in no time especially once we start planning your wedding.” Emily said, winking at her.

“What?!” She asked.

“Yes! I'm thinking of a beautiful winter wedding. I can already imagine soft snow falling on your beautiful dress as you pose with Adam with the backdrop of a French chateau. A real French chateau.” Emily smiled and her eyes widened. She didn't think she was going to get married to Adam so soon.

“Mom.. can you hold the wedding thought for now? I mean.. I barely know Adam. I just thought I could.. maybe.. you know.. date him first before we talk about weddings.” She said, her eyebrows furrowed.

“Oh well.. you can get to know each other after the wedding. It will be even better because then you can explore each other more freely.” Emily winked and she felt like ice had dropped to her stomach.

“Emily, you’re scaring her. It's amazing that she wants to even start a relationship with Adam. Why don't we take things slow and let them move at their own pace. We don't live in the middle ages anymore.” Richard said and she felt grateful for his remarks. He really wasn’t as bad as he seemed.

“Oh, alright. But I think at most a summer wedding next year should be on the cards.” Emily said and she sighed.

“Well, next year sounds much better, mom. And I do prefer summer rather than winter.” She said.

“Alright, summer it is.” Emily smiled and she smiled back though her smile didn't reach her eyes.

“We should invite Adam for dinner. When are you available, darling?” Emily asked.

“Umm.. next weekend maybe. I have a shoot for the whole week next week.” She said and she felt a twist in her heart as she realized she was going to do some shoot with Sebastian next week, and for the next two months! How was she going to survive that? She wondered.

“Alright, next weekend it is.” Emily said and she nodded.

Her mind went back to Sebastian and she felt a tightening in her chest. Next week’s shoot was going to be a hard shoot even without the situation between them. She started to get worried that she wouldn't be able to perform well. But then it was a good opportunity to showcase her acting skills. If she could still act well with Sebastian despite the heartbreaking situation between them, then she was sure she could handle anything, including pretending to be happy as she married a man she didn't love.

—

13320 Mulholland Drive, Los Angeles, California - August 20th 2023 - 11 pm

She opened the door to Aurora's room and flopped on the bed. Dinner with Aurora's parents was excruciating to endure. She was glad she was finally away from them and wondered how on earth she was going to survive the rest of her life with them as her parents if she and Aurora didn't switch back.

Her mind went to her parents, and to her mother specifically. She picked up her cellphone and texted Aurora, wanting to update her on the situation and also asking how her mother was.

“I did it. I broke up with Sebastian, apologized to your parents and told them I would marry Adam. Now can I send the money to my parents?” - Y/n

She didn't need to wait long as Aurora immediately texted her back.

“Good. Yes, you can send them the money.” - Aurora.

She breathed a sigh of relief as she read and started typing her response.

“Thank you. How are my parents? How is my mom?” - Y/n.

“They're both fine. Your mom will go through a new therapy tomorrow.” - Aurora

“Oh, what therapy?” - Y/n

“They're going to infuse her with high dose vitamin C.” - Aurora 

“Oh, is it dangerous?” - Y/n

“From the doctor’s explanation, not so much. But they of course would still monitor her closely for any possible side effect.” - Aurora

“Okay, good, thank you for informing me about this.” -  Y/n.

“You’re welcome.” - Aurora 

It still amazed her how civil Aurora had become and she was glad to hear about her parents being well.

She put her cellphone away, changed into a sleeping attire and climbed into bed.

She glanced at the empty space beside her and couldn't stop herself from crying again. It hasn't even been a day since she broke up with him and she already missed him.

Eventually she was able to calm down, especially after she remembered that she was going to have a shoot the next morning. She needed to be professional.

So she wiped the tears from her eyes, hugged a pillow tight and closed her eyes.

—

Universal Studio, Los Angeles, California - August 21st 2023 - 8 am

The set was alive with activity as the crew prepared for the day’s shoot. She stood near the edge of the set, watching as the crew bustled about, adjusting lights and setting up cameras. Despite the flurry of activity, a palpable tension hung in the air, a reflection of the scenes they were about to film and of her own heart.

Y/n took a deep breath, mentally preparing herself for the role of Celeste Nichols. She glanced over at Sebastian, who was in deep conversation with Maya. His face was a mask of concentration, his usual easy going demeanor replaced by the intensity of the character he was about to embody—Mike Taylor, a Tour de France cyclist spiraling into the dark world of doping. 

Her heart tugged at the sight of him. Oh how much she missed him even though they’ve only broken up for one day. The night felt different without him lying by her side and the morning felt wrong without his bright smile greeting her as she opened her eyes.

She blinked several times as she tried to prevent herself from crying just as Sebastian glanced over to her, giving her a look of concern.

Her heart jumped a little as he gave her a small smile. Then he turned away from Maya and walked towards her.

“Good morning, Aurora.” He said as he stopped in front of her, his hands buried deep in his pocket as he looked down at her, studying her carefully.

“Good morning, Sebastian.” She replied, looking up at him and smiled. For a split second she could see his expression softened but then it quickly changed and he looked neutral, his eyes betrayed nothing.

“How are you?” He asked slowly.

“I’m.. nervous..” She trailed.

“I’m sure you’ll do great, like you always do.” He smiled, making her heart skip a beat.

“Thanks.” She said and he nodded.

“So.. umm.. have you met your parents yet?” He asked, his eyebrows furrowed.

“Yeah, last night.”

“And?” 

“They're happy. Especially my mom. She.. she can't wait to get me into a wedding dress.” She chuckled and she could see the hurt in his eyes.

“Well.. that's good to hear. As long as your mom is happy, right?” He said with a hint of sarcasm.

“Sebastian.. I'm sorry.” She said, placing her hand on his arm but he jerked his arm away.

“It's okay, Aurora. No need to apologize anymore.” He said as he averted his eyes from her, making her heart drop to her stomach.

Just then Maya called them out, asking them to get ready on set. Her heart tightened as she saw him turning away and walked towards the set.

She sighed as she started to walk following him and trying hard not to cry.

—

The first scene of the day was relatively calm, a stark contrast to what was to come. Y/n, now fully in character as Celeste, stood by the window of the mock hotel room which was supposed to represent a hotel room in Bilbao, Spain, where the Tour de France began that year. The early morning light filtered through the curtains. The room was quiet, the only sound was the faint hum of the city waking up outside.

Sebastian entered the scene. His movements fluid and relaxed, a subtle indication that Mike was still somewhat in control of his life. He approached her with a smile, his eyes bright with the afterglow of the testosterone pill he had taken the night before.

"Morning," he said, his voice warm as he wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her close, making her heart skip a beat.

She turned to face him, returning the smile. "Morning," she replied softly, studying his face for any sign of the pill’s effects. "How are you feeling?"

"Great," he answered, a little too quickly. "Better than I’ve felt in weeks."

Her smile faltered slightly, her concern evident in her eyes. "I’m glad you’re feeling better. Promise me you won’t use it again. It’s dangerous, and you know it."

His expression softened, and he leaned down to press a kiss to her forehead, making her shiver.

 "I know, and I meant it. Just once. I promise to only use it once and I mean it."

The sincerity in his voice seemed genuine, and she let out a small sigh of relief, leaning into his embrace. The moment was tender, almost idyllic, but beneath the surface, she could feel the tension brewing, like the calm before a storm.

Maya called cut, and the crew moved in to reset for the next scene. She stepped back, shaking off the lingering emotions of the scene. She was happy they succeeded to do the shoot in just one take but then he looked up at him and felt bittersweet. 

He was so close to her that she fought back the urge to tiptoe and give him a kiss like she usually did. Sebastian caught her eye and gave her a small smile.

“You did great, as always.” He said and she smiled back.

“Thanks. You did great too.” She said and he nodded then quickly averted his eyes from hers then he turned away, leaving her on set alone with a gaping hole in her chest.

—

The second scene was set in a different room which represented a different city, in a different hotel, with Mike fresh from a victorious mountain stage of the Tour de France. The atmosphere was electric, the thrill of victory still buzzing in the air. But beneath the surface, there was an undercurrent of tension, a hint of something darker lurking just out of sight.

Sebastian entered the room, his posture exuding confidence and a hint of arrogance, his performance as Mike perfectly capturing the high of victory. Y/n, as Celeste, was waiting for him, her face lighting up with a smile when she saw him.

"You were amazing out there.” She said, her voice filled with admiration as she moved to embrace him.

He accepted the hug but pulled back quickly, a nervous energy buzzing around him. 

"Thanks," he muttered, his eyes darting around the room as if looking for something—or someone.

Her smile faded as she took in his demeanor. 

"Where have you been?" she asked, her tone gentle but probing.

He hesitated for a fraction of a second before answering. 

"With Ava. Just a quick check-up, nothing serious." He replied, referring to Rooney Mara’s character Ava, the team’s doctor.

But Y/n, as Celeste, saw through the lie immediately, her expression hardening.

"You promised me, Mike," she said, her voice low and filled with barely-contained anger. "You said no more doping."

"It’s just a little more," He shot back defensively. "I need it to get through tomorrow’s stage. I swear, this is the last time."

She shook her head, frustration and fear warring within her.

“You said that last time," she whispered, her voice trembling. "You’re playing with fire, Mike. This won’t end well."

But he was already tuning her out, his focus elsewhere, his mind clouded by the drugs.

“Cut! That was great Aurora, Sebastian! Get ready for the next scene!” Maya shouted.

She blinked as she heard Maya. She was supposed to be happy that they managed to shoot the scene in one take again despite everything that went on between them, but her heart dropped as she looked up at Sebastian and he left her without saying a word.

She sighed as she left the set, leaving the crew to set up for the next scene.

—

The third scene was the turning point, where Mike’s descent into addiction began to take a darker, more dangerous turn. 

The hotel room was dimly lit, the atmosphere heavy with the aftermath of a failed race. Mike sat on the edge of the bed, his posture slumped, his face drawn with frustration and exhaustion.

Y/n, as Celeste, entered the room, her expression filled with concern. She moved to sit beside him, her hand resting gently on his shoulder. 

“Mike," she began softly, "we need to talk."

He didn’t respond, his eyes staring blankly ahead. The weight of his recent loss was heavy on his shoulders, his mind racing with thoughts of how to reclaim his former glory.

She took a deep breath, steeling herself for what she knew would be a difficult conversation. 

"You can’t keep doing this to yourself," she said, her voice firm but compassionate. 

"The doping… it’s not worth it. You’re destroying yourself, Mike."

For a moment, he remained silent, his expression unreadable. But then he turned to her, a desperate look in his eyes. 

"I need this, Celeste," he whispered, his voice filled with a quiet intensity. "I need to win. Just one more time. Ava said there's a new drug. She said I can try it.”

Her heart broke at the desperation in his voice, and she reached out to take his hand.

“You don’t need the drugs to win, Mike. You’re better than this."

But he pulled his hand away, his expression hardening. "I have to, Celeste. You don’t understand."

The pain in his voice was almost unbearable, and for a moment, she wavered, torn between her love for him and her fear of what he was becoming. 

Finally, she sighed, her shoulders slumping in defeat. 

"Okay," she said quietly. "But this has to be the last time, Mike. I mean it."

He nodded, relief flooding his features. "It will be. I promise."

“Cut! That was great, you two!” Maya shouted and she blinked.

Another perfect take! She couldn't believe it!

“Great job, Aurora.” Sebastian smiled at her and she smiled too.

“You too, Sebastian.” She replied and he nodded. Then he stood up without saying another word, leaving her alone on the bed and her smile quickly turned into a frown.

She sighed and stood up as she left the set and headed back to her trailer as the day’s shoot was over. Wishing things were different between them.

—

Universal Studio, Los Angeles, California - August 22nd 2023 - 8 am

She walked towards the set as if her feet didn't touch the ground. Her eyes were heavy and she felt as if her soul wasn't one hundred percent with her. She almost didn't sleep last night.

Aurora texted her the day before telling her that her mother started to experience some side effects from the latest treatment, making her feel anxious and worried. On top of that she couldn't stop thinking of Sebastian. It felt hard to see him yet not being able to be with him.

Her hand held a cup of coffee, the only thing she had taken all morning. She wasn't hungry. If anything she felt a little nauseous. Aside from thinking of her mother and Sebastian, the shoot that day was going to be the hardest shoot for her and she was nervous about it.

Her eyes looked around the studio as she entered, trying to place him among the movie crew. She finally found him at the edge of the set, talking with Maya and Hannah the screenwriter.

He glanced at her and nodded and she walked towards him with a heavy heart.

“Morning, Aurora.” He said, smiling a little at her.

“Morning, Sebastian.” She smiled reluctantly back. 

“Morning, Maya, Hannah.” She turned to the women and they greeted her back.

“Are you okay, Aurora?” Maya asked, looking at her in concern.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine.” She smiled then took a gulp of her coffee.

“It’s gonna be a hard scene today. I hope you’re prepared.” Maya reminded her.

“Of course, yeah, don't worry.” She smiled and Maya nodded.

“Okay, good.” Maya smiled back then turned around, followed by Hannah, leaving her alone with Sebastian.

“You’re not okay.” He said pointedly and she sighed.

“No, I’m okay. I just didn't really sleep last night.” 

“Oh, why?” He asked and she felt like kicking him.

“You know why.” She replied with a hint of annoyance.

“Aurora.. you asked for it.” He said and she raised her eyebrows.

“Yes, but I didn't really want it!” She yelled, startling him and herself.

“I.. I’m sorry.. I didn't mean to yell.” She said as regret filled her heart and she could see the hurt in his eyes. She couldn't believe she would ever yell at Sebastian. She was more stressed out about things than she realized.

“Oh, so now you’re saying you don't want to marry Adam and make your mom happy?” He asked, raising his eyebrows.

“I.. Oh God, things are more complicated than that, Sebastian.” She sighed.

“Well, explain it then. Make me understand.” He said, his eyes pleading.

She looked up at him and seriously contemplated on telling him what was actually going on. She took a deep breath and decided to try and see if he would really understand.

“Do you believe in magic?” She asked and his eyebrows raised.

“Magic. You know, potions, spells, Hogwarts.” She said and he continued to look puzzled.

“Where are you going with this?” He asked and she shook her head, it was useless. He would just think she was crazy.

“Nevermind.” She said and just then Maya called them to get on set, saving her from having to elaborate further.

Sebastian continued to look at her in confusion but finally turned away and they walked towards the set together.

The scene they were going to shoot that day was the most intense and hardest scene throughout the whole movie.

It portrays the culmination of Mike’s descent into madness. 

The set was transformed into a different hotel room, representing a hotel in Paris, where the Tour de France ended. The room was darker, more claustrophobic, reflecting the twisted state of Mike’s mind.

Sebastian, as Mike sat on the edge of the bed in the middle of the room, his face pale and drawn, his hands trembling as he clutched a syringe. The weight of his addiction was evident in every line of his body, his once-confident demeanor replaced by a haunted, desperate look.

Y/n, as Celeste, stood in the doorway, her eyes wide with shock and horror as she took in the scene before her. 

"Mike, what are you doing?" she asked, her voice trembling.

He didn’t answer, his focus entirely on the syringe in his hand. His breathing was ragged, his eyes wild and unfocused as he prepared to inject himself with the drug that had consumed him.

"Mike, stop!" She cried, rushing forward to grab his arm. "This has to stop, now! You’re killing yourself!"

But he shoved her away, his eyes blazing with a dangerous light. "I need it, Celeste!" he snarled, his voice filled with a manic desperation. "I need it to win!"

The force of his shove sent her stumbling back, her heart pounding in her chest as she watched him spiral further into madness. Tears filled her eyes as she realized that the man she once knew was gone, replaced by a hollow shell driven by addiction and fear. Tears fell down her eyes as she took the memory of their break up to fuel Celeste’s sadness and she sobbed hard.

Finally, unable to bear it any longer, she turned and fled the room, her footsteps echoing throughout the studio as she left him alone with his demons.

She stood at the edge of the set, wiping the tears in her eyes as she waited for her next turn. She stood next to Maya as she watched the scene still continuing with Sebastian in the middle of the set.

Moments later, a knock at the door jolted Sebastian from his trance. He looked scared as he opened the door to find Toby Jones, who was playing as George Baker, the UCI official, standing there, clipboard in hand.

"Mr. Taylor," Toby said briskly, "I’m here to collect a urine sample." Toby continued as he gave him a small plastic cup.

Panic and fear clearly flashed on Sebastian's face as he seemed to think of a way out. But there was no escape, no way to avoid the test. Nodding shakily, he accepted the cup and went to the bathroom, with Toby following him.

“I appreciate all your cooperation Mr.Taylor. Also the cooperation of the others on the team.” Toby said as Sebastian really took a piss into the cup with Toby standing behind him.

He closed the lid of the cup and handed Toby the sample, his hands trembling as he zipped his pants’ zipper up.

“Thank you. Good day now.” Toby said cheerfully.

But as Toby turned to leave, something inside Sebastian snapped. In a blur of motion, he grabbed a pair of scissors from the bedside table and lunged at Toby, the blade glinting in the dim light.

Her heart dropped to her stomach as she saw the scene. She knew they were just acting but at that moment everything seemed so real.

Toby barely had time to react before the scissors seemingly plunged into his left shoulder, his eyes widening in shock and pain. Crimson seeped through his shirt and the room was filled with the sound of his ragged breathing.

She took a deep breath and ran back towards the set. She stood frozen in the doorway, her eyes widened and jaw dropped as she saw the horrifying scene before her. 

Toby laid on the floor, blood seeping through his fingers. Sebastian, wild-eyed and panting, loomed over him, the bloody scissors still clutched in his hand.

"Mike!" She screamed, rushing forward towards them.

Her heart pounded in her chest as she dropped to her knees beside Toby, her hands immediately pressing against the wound in a futile attempt to stop the bleeding. "What have you done?"

But Sebastian, as Mike was beyond reasoning, his mind clouded by the drugs coursing through his veins. His breathing was ragged, his eyes darting around the room like a cornered animal. 

"I didn’t mean to," he mumbled, his voice trembling. "He was going to ruin everything. I didn’t mean to…"

She barely heard him, her focus entirely on Toby bleeding out on the floor. His eyes were wide with terror, his breath coming in shallow gasps. 

"Stay with me," she whispered urgently, her hands slick with blood as she tried to apply pressure to the wound. "Stay with me, please!"

But Toby’s eyes were glazing over, his strength fading fast. Her heart raced as she realized how desperate the situation was.

“Mike, call an ambulance!" she shouted, not daring to look up from her frantic efforts to save Toby.

Sebastian didn’t move. He stood there, frozen in place. The scissors slipped from his grasp, clattering to the floor with a sickening thud. 

“I didn’t mean to," he repeated, his voice a hollow echo of his former self.

Realizing he was too far gone to help, she knew she had to act fast. Toby’s breath was becoming more labored, his skin growing pale. She needed to stop the bleeding, needed to save him, but her hands were trembling, and the blood was everywhere.

"Hold on," she whispered to Toby, her voice cracking with desperation. "Just hold on."

In her frantic attempts to help, she didn’t notice Sebastian's erratic movements behind her. His eyes were wild, his body shaking as he stumbled toward her, his mind a chaotic swirl of fear, guilt, and madness. In his altered state, he couldn’t distinguish between friend and foe, reality and nightmare.

Y/n, focused entirely on the dying man, didn’t see the danger until it was too late. Sebastian's movements were frantic, uncoordinated, but there was a sudden flash of steel as he reached for the scissors again. His breathing was harsh and uneven, his mind a jumbled mess of confusion and panic.

"Mike, what are you doing?" Her voice was panicked as she sensed his erratic movements behind her, but she was too late to stop him. In his delusional state, he saw only threats, enemies closing in on him from all sides. He lashed out without thinking, his movements jerky and uncontrolled.

The moment seemed to stretch into eternity as the cold steel of the scissors slashed through the air. Y/n, as Celeste, turned just in time to see Sebastian's hand coming down, the blade catching the light in a sickening glint. She gasped in shock, but there was no time to react, no time to protect herself.

The shock was immediate and all-consuming as the blade plunged into her side. The force of the blow sent her reeling, a cry of pain tearing from her lips as she collapsed beside Toby. 

Sebastian's eyes widened in horror as he realized what he had done. 

"Celeste!" he cried, dropping the scissors as if they had burned him. His face twisted in agony, his hands trembling as he reached out to her, but the damage was done.

Y/n, as Celeste, could barely process what had just happened. The shock was overwhelming, her breaths coming in ragged, shallow gasps. Her vision blurred as tears filled her eyes, and she could barely muster the strength to speak.

"Mike…" she gasped, her voice barely a whisper. "What… what have you done?"

Sebastian's hands hovered over her, unsure where to touch, how to help. His face was a mask of horror, his mind struggling to grasp the reality of what he had just done. 

"I’m sorry," he whispered, his voice breaking. 

"I didn’t mean to… I didn’t mean to hurt you…"

But it was too late. Her strength was fading fast, her consciousness slipping away as the darkness closed in. The last thing she saw before she gave in to the darkness was Sebastian's face, twisted with grief and regret, as he knelt beside her and pulled her close to him, whispering her name over and over again like a desperate prayer.

“Celeste.. Celeste.. I’m sorry.. I’m so sorry..”

“Cut!” Maya’s voice echoed throughout the studio but she didn't hear it. Her consciousness really had left her body and she stayed limp in Sebastian's arms.

Sebastian took a deep breath and looked down, not realizing her condition.

“Aurora, you can open your eyes now.” He said gently but she didn't respond.

“Aurora?” He called out, shaking her body but still she didn't make any sign that she was conscious.

“Aurora!” Sebastian called out, panic filled his voice as he continued to shake her body.

“Aurora.. Aurora..!” His voice echoed throughout the room as the whole studio fell into a horrifying silence.

Chapter 21 >

Taglist

@dhoruwolfie @kandis-mom

[ankles-be-bitten]

i can't get over how royally the ineffable husbands managed to fuck things up but it literally couldn't have gone any other way.

so many spoilers for good omens 2 ahead <3

i know it's been done to death but i've got so many thoughts about their dynamic. like what the hell. but at the same time, i personally believe this was the only way it could've gone. obviously, if the metatron hadn't been involved, it would've gone much smoother, but our boys can't control him. he may as well be the weather.

crowley is an optimist. you can see that clearly in how he's certain how aziraphale will respond to his confession. he's sure he'll get his thoughts out, all will be well, they'll go out for an extremely alcoholic brunch at the ritz. he knows aziraphale loves him, he's barely even worried about it until the time actually comes.

which is why it's so utterly heartbreaking that aziraphale interrupted him, but as frustrating as it is, it's SO in character. it's especially evident in season 2 that it's almost always crowley listening to aziraphale, humoring him and his interests. hell, he even says it himself in the coffee shop: aziraphale frequently calls on him just to tell him about good things he's done or accomplishments he's proud of. and that's great! it's wonderful that crowley cares about aziraphale's interests and accomplishments, as much as he might feign indifference or even disapproval (as with the magic tricks). but the inverse is literally unheard of. to be fair, crowley and aziraphale are very different people with different emotional needs, but crowley acknowledges in Every Day as he's preparing to confess that he's not much of a talker, he needs to say what needs to be said right now, or it's never gonna happen. he has a need and that need is not being met, which in isolation feels INSANE for aziraphale. he's so aware of the wants and needs of those around him, highly empathetic, and receptive to others' emotions--but i noticed a bit of a pattern.

consider his behavior in scotland with elspeth and dalrymple. he readily condemns elspeth to hell, ignores the absurdity of his statements about poverty and purity, and if i remember correctly he harbored much of the same sentiment towards mr. dalrymple, that is, until he realized why they were doing what they were doing. it wasn't until the boy with the tumor was humanized to him that he realized exactly why the cadavers were needed, which created the pathway needed for him to empathize with elspeth. he's kind and generous towards maggie because he's known her all her life, she's a real person to him. aziraphale doesn't naturally empathize with people he doesn't really connect with, which i'm guessing is a byproduct of his time in heaven. the only real outlier i can name is job and his family, which can pretty easily be chalked up to aziraphale having a deep respect for the man and his devotion to the god he, too devoutly served.

so then why isn't he as receptive towards crowley's needs? they've known each other for thousands if not millions if not billions of years, a far cry longer than aziraphale knew maggie or elspeth--not to mention the fact that he never knew the boy with the tumor at all. they've seen everything together; aziraphale has undoubtedly seen crowley at his very lowest, so why does it seem like he doesn't care at all about what crowley has to say in Every Day?

my guess is that it boils down to crowley being closed off emotionally, hidden behind his veil of sarcasm and dry humor. aziraphale saw elspeth, wee morag, maggie, job, and even technically the boy with the tumor at their most vulnerable. he saw them at their most human.

but he just doesn't see crowley that way. in his mind, crowley is an entirely separate entity. he doesn't cry to aziraphale about having to live in his car or his plants having brown spots. he's often incredibly indirect, sometimes painfully so, to the point where aziraphale frequently doesn't get the point until it's much too late, like with elspeth and wee morag. aziraphale is a creature of habit, and he just isn't used to what crowley has to say being urgent or time sensitive, it all unravels itself eventually, why should this be different? yes, crowley did say outright that it needed to happen now, but aziraphale had just been given what he saw as the opportunity of eternity for both of them. no more would it be "too late," they would have all the time in the world--more, even. whatever crowley had to say in that moment couldn't possibly be more important than eternity together.

and so he did what he's always done. he went straight to crowley to tell him about the Good Thing that's happened, this time for both of them, and the offer really hit a nerve, perfectly illustrating the way crowley was not being fulfilled in the relationship with a finality that honestly just made him snap. why on earth would he want to become an angel again? he'd never expressed an interest in that, often being vocal about the opposite, albeit in his vague manner; yet another example of aziraphale learning his lesson all too late. aziraphale didn't hear or really see crowley at all, and maybe he never had. maybe he didn't know he needed to.

that kiss was crowley's last ditch attempt to get aziraphale to see him, really see him, as a person with emotional wants and needs. one fabulous kiss and we're good, right?

maybe not. but i think so. much like the story behind the tumor in dalrymple's office was the catalyst aziraphale needed to see elspeth, i think the kiss was the catalyst aziraphale needed to see crowley. that level of emotional vulnerability we had only seen from crowley when he thought aziraphale was gone forever in s1, and aziraphale didn't even realize that was about him.

but he knows now, and i think he'll do better going forward. he is capable of learning from his mistakes, i think we've more than proven that by now, and it's almost always crowley that enables that change. you can see in his eyes after the kiss how incredibly conflicted he is, and i'll be damned if a good portion of that isn't kicking himself for not really being there for crowley, even if he doesn't consciously realize that's what the issue is at that point. there is almost definitely guilt in those eyes; michael sheen knows what he's doing. for once in his life crowley was clear and direct about what he meant and what he wanted and aziraphale was so absorbed in what he wanted, not just in that moment but throughout their entire friendship, that he maybe genuinely had no clue about that facet of crowley's character.

i really don't know what's going on with him in the elevator at the end and i'm not too keen on speculating about that at this time, but whatever it is i'm sure it'll reveal itself in due time. to be honest i don't know that it's anything to do with crowley at all, and therefore may not even be relevant to this post, which is already very long and rambly.

i would absolutely love to discuss this further and to hear insight from others. i'm new to tumblr so i don't expect much visibility, but if you get this far and have thoughts about this do please share!

[jo-harrington]

Limbo (An As Above, So Below Story)

**This can be read in tandem with As Above, So Below or as a stand alone. Contains minor spoilers for Heaven, Hell, and Purgatory.**

Summary: Wayne Munson did the best he could, and still found himself in Limbo.

Word Count: 2.5k

Characters: Wayne Munson, Eddie Munson, "Reefer" Rick Lipton

Warnings/Themes: Allusions to Eddie in an established relationship/breakup with Reader/OC (you), Kas!Eddie Munson, Religious Themes, Fate vs. Free Will, Death and Injury, Mentions of Major Character Deaths, Grief, Mourning, Discussion of the Upside Down, Supernatural Encounters, Angst, Violence, Action Sequences, Gore, Biblical and Other Literary/Media References

Note: So...well I guess it's no surprise that our favorite uncle is going to be making an appearance in As Above, So Below. There aren't any spoilers in here unless you know where to look. If you're reading this as a stand alone consider this Wayne's journey as he loses Eddie and gets him back again. Even if he isn't entirely the same as he used to be.

Thank you to @breddiemunson and @chestylarouxx for reading what I sent you, enabling me, and supporting me in my Wayne endeavors.

This series is not for the faint of heart, nor is it something that was written with a general audience in mind. Please check the above warnings and ask yourself if you are in the correct headspace to proceed. I am happy to answer any questions via PM or Ask.

You can find my masterlist here.

Please do not interact if you are not 18+.

Enjoy!

"That boy made me realize, for a while at least, that my parents were wrong, and I didn't have to be like them." - J.X. Burros

Whatever happened before—whatever his life had been—no longer mattered the moment Wayne Munson got the call from the Sheriff's office on that fateful day in September of '76.

It had woken him up from a dead sleep, and then all of a sudden he had a funeral to plan and a kid to raise.

Not just any kid.

His nephew, his buddy, his boy.

Eddie.

Wayne didn't know how to raise a kid though. Didn’t know how to fix lunches or talk to teachers or all the things his sister-in-law had made look effortless.

She sacrificed though to make it happen. And if Wayne was any good at any one thing…it was sacrifice.

So he did what he knew, did the best he could. And worried internally all the while keeping that signature stoic Munson exterior.

Would Eddie be safe? Would he be loved? Would he have everything he needed?

Together they weathered storms, patched up cuts and bruises, and taught and learned lessons to one another.

Practiced patience and respect; love and forgiveness.

It was an unfamiliar kind of relationship, certainly not the kind he and his brother had with their parents. But it was the least he could do for Eddie, a boy who had already lost so much. A boy who he saw so much of himself in.

He should have gotten him out of Hawkins, should have had a fresh start elsewhere.

Should have done something to stop all of the suffering before it started.

Call it intuition.

There were no real signs.

But Wayne knew that something was wrong the moment he pulled up to the trailer after a long and tedious Friday night shift.

The van hadn't moved from its spot from the night before--a little too close to the mailbox--but Eddie being late for school or skipping class altogether wasn't anything new.

The door was left ajar--also not new, if Eddie was too eager after a night of DnD to get back home and write notes for the next session while thoughts were still fresh in his head--and any other time it would mean a lecture that he wouldn't be too keen on, because Eddie truly knew better.

But there was just something in the air, and as Wayne crept up the front steps warily, it caused the hair on his arms to stand up on end.

Heartbreak.

He knew the stench of it when he set foot inside.

Saw the empty beer bottles on the counter by the sink and a mug that he'd accidentally broken on the floor by the couch. The fragments of the mug sat alongside a discarded silver chain that Wayne recognized used to sit around your neck.

The boy that was hidden away in the depths of his bedroom wasn't the same as the one he had just seen 24 hours ago.

Wayne himself had been in those shoes plenty of times in his life. It happened more often when he realized that his feelings weren't reciprocated but the one time he just couldn't be with someone he'd felt the greatest connection with...it had hardened him.

No use in delaying the inevitable.

He stood at Eddie's door and knocked carefully, ready to give him all the patience that he deserved.

Because he knew that he wasn't gonna get his nephew back for awhile.

The FEMA check was a staggering number.

And it went to waste one headstone at a time.

He and Rick had cried the first time they'd gone to visit Eddie's grave--Rick fresh out of County--and found the cracked granite monument in pieces in the grass.

It had been crushed, the corners of the pieces chipped. Someone had taken a chisel or a screwdriver and carved a line through the dedication.

Edward J. Munson

Beloved Son, Nephew, and Friend.

The next time it looked like someone had taken a sledgehammer through it.

And the time after that, the headstone was just gone.

Each time without fail, Wayne would call the little Monument business in Muncie and order a new one. Once a month if not more. They recognized his voice by July.

"Don't waste the money," Rick said with a comforting hand patting his back as they both shed silent tears the fifth or sixth time. "He wouldn't have wanted you to...obsess over him like this. He would have wanted you to do something cool. Road trip to the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. Or surfing in California."

"I'm too old to surf."

"At least take some time off work. He started dealing so you'd stop working so much god damn overtime."

But what else was Wayne supposed to do with Eddie gone?

He worked, filled his free time with shitty TV and old pictures that Rick had squirreled away the closet of the bedroom that Wayne had taken residence in. Dinners at the Hendersons once a week where Claudia would send them home with too many leftovers and Dustin would tentatively explain a new D&D campaign.

It should have made his heart hurt but instead brought him comfort.

It was good to be reminded of the goodness that Eddie left behind, instead of the wickedness that his stained reputation seemed to bring out of everyone else.

And he kept replacing that damned headstone.

Until he stopped.

For almost a decade, they'd been friends and, for all intents and purposes, partners in raising Eddie.

When his sister-in-law had passed, Wayne had never asked for help, but Rick was quick to step up to the plate, despite the weight of his own world that he carried on his shoulders.

Pickups when Eddie was sick? Rick took care of them so Wayne could sleep.

And if Eddie was ever faking some illness to get out of a test or homework he hadn't remembered, then Rick took care of that too. Usually in a more fun and forgiving way than Wayne would.

Rick had been at Corroded Coffin's first "concert" at the Hideout, when they were still new and bad, fresh off their debut at the Hawkins Middle School talent show. He'd hauled out his old tube color camera so Wayne could watch it over the weekend.

There hadn't been any sound, but Wayne had been grateful to see Eddie's confident strumming and singing nonetheless.

And Wayne had been there for Rick time and again in return. When the shellshock got too bad and the voices were too loud, Wayne made the long drive to Indianapolis for Rick to pick up whatever he needed to chase the demons away.

Once Eddie was gone, they'd leaned on each other. The only ones who understood the loss the other experienced. Different...but still the same.

That's why it gutted Wayne as he watched Rick get cut down, torn apart by teeth and claws. Neck snapped, blood splattered, soul rent from his being, sent from this world onto the next.

He would have died to save Rick.

But he didn't.

The only thing that kept Wayne going were the hands attached to those claws.

Hands that spent hours practicing Fade to Black.

He knew the mouth that held those teeth. A mouth that spewed Cap'n Crunch as it failed to contain laughter at Saturday morning cartoons as he came home from a Friday Night double.

Knew the hair that dripped that blood. He was the last person to give it a trim, but not too much Uncle Wayne. It won't be metal enough for the concert on the 8th if you cut it too short. Can you believe it? Ozzy and Metallica. Fuck it's gonna be a great show. Shit...I mean shit.

And as eyes as dark as the abyss turned to Wayne and they stared at one another, Wayne's devastation was replaced by hope.

Because Rick might have been Wayne's friend, his brother.

But Eddie was Wayne's blood.

And Eddie was still alive.

The act of crossing into a new dimension was becoming something Wayne was used to mentally, but physically he didn't think he'd ever adjust.

His knees creaked as he crawled through the cavernous maw of the gate, his back ached as he pulled himself through the other side and he found his footing on the toxic soil, and his lungs wheezed momentarily as he took his first gulp of the strange atmosphere.

"You need to stop smoking if you're gonna come here every day," A familiar voice reached his ears and the aches and pains faded. "The air burns enough without tar-filled lungs."

"Well I only need to come here every day until we can get you home," Wayne groused and pivoted to find Eddie leaning against one of the trees at the edge of the beach.

"I'm working on it," Eddie deadpanned.

Wayne was quick to close the distance and pull him into a hug like he had for the last week.

Eddie wasn't as jarring a sight to see as he had been a few short weeks ago. Somehow, he'd made himself normal again; Wayne hadn't realized how until he heard the gut-wrenching screams as Eddie tore his body back apart once he thought Wayne was back on the other side.

"You don't have to do that on my behalf," Wayne insisted. "I'm just happy to see you. Happy you're here."

"I like it better this way," Eddie had shrugged as he tore off the broken old t-shirt for a new one that Wayne had brought. "I like my old body better. Makes me feel like I'm still myself."

That was really all this was, an effort to help Eddie feel like himself while he was stuck here.

Every day Wayne made the trek with a new change of clothes, a few new cassettes or a book for Eddie to read. Usually some food, Eddie's favorites, that largely went untouched. He wished he could bring more, just to see the joy on Eddie's face, but the crossing was a strain on his body. It required a different kind of strength than he was used to after years of manual labor.

Not just physical strength, but the fortification of the soul.

He didn't know how Eddie could have survived the past few weeks, let alone the past year and a half.

"What have you got for me today?" Eddie grinned. His fangs glistened with the ominous lightning in the distance and Wayne couldn't help but smile back at the enthusiasm.

"Got a special treat for you," Wayne heaved the knapsack from over his shoulder and dropped it to the ground.

"You said that yesterday when you brought my copy of The Hobbit," Eddie laughed. "And the day before that, when you brought Sweetheart."

"Can't let you get rusty." He unzipped the bag and reached in. "No, this is something else. I don't know what you've been doing with those Twinkies and cupcakes but uh...I figured this might be more to your liking."

He pulled out the dented old brown and orange thermos that his sister-in-law used to send Eddie to school with, a remnant of the days where Bradley's Big Buy let you choose a special prize if you spent over a certain amount on groceries.

"I, uh, am not really in a Chef Boyardee mood either, Uncle Wayne." Eddie unscrewed the top of the thermos and then froze as the scent hit him. His eyes shot up at Wayne in question, pupils dilated in an unnatural way.

"Go ahead, son," he nodded. "I know you're hungry."

"Where?" Eddie couldn't help but lick his lips. "Who?"

"I can't do it all the time." Wayne patted the crook of his elbow. "But when I can, I will."

Eddie shook his head but made no move to close the thermos. Wayne watched something happen behind his eyes though, an internal battle. There were little twitches beneath his skin, along his jaw, to his lips.

"I can drink from the others," he muttered, more to himself than Wayne. "Send them out and feed when they come back."

He worried his lips with those fangs that seemed to get longer and sharper.

"Please," he practically whimpered, in a tone that was practically unrecognizable. "Please."

"Please Eddie," Wayne nodded in encouragement. "You need it more than I do right now. Not like I can put it back."

"No!" Eddie slammed the lid back on, metal denting further beneath his strong grip. "Don't do that again Wayne. Never."

There was a venomous warning beneath his words and a barely audible crackle and hiss of something dangerous, something inhuman, and Wayne had no choice but to oblige.

"I only wanted to help."'

"Seeing you every day is more help than you could possibly imagine," Eddie explained darkly. "I don't need the blood. If I drank it...who knows what I could do. I'll be fine. Just trust me. Please."

"Alright," Wayne nodded.

They did what they usually did when Wayne visited. Talked about their days, a strange monotonous routine that felt like a semblance of the life they used to live, but it was welcome.

They always ignored the elephant in the room: the attacks on Hawkins, the growing number of dead thanks to the creatures of the Upside Down and their insatiable hunger.

Eddie had tried to explain once, tried to apologize, but Wayne would hear nothing of it.

"This is just the reality of it now," he comforted Eddie that first day after Vecna was destroyed. "Until we can get you out. Then you and I are getting the hell out of Hawkins and never looking back."

Finally it was time for Wayne to head home, back to Rick's, back to the house where he had nothing but his memories and hope. He gave Eddie one last hug before he started for the gate to begin his descent once more.

"Hey Uncle Wayne?" Eddie called after him and he turned back. Wayne watched the changes in his eyes. The pleading, the flashes of desperation, the softness that he knew his nephew was capable of. "I love you, you know that right?"

The way he said it put a chill in Wayne's heart. There was something about it; a foreboding darkness. A finality. They were words that were rarely said in the Munson household...but when they were said, the meaning was heavy...immense.

Wayne didn't quite know how to respond, though, to the weight that Eddie's words carried.

So he just said the obvious.

"Of course, son," Wayne nodded. "I love you too."

And then the flash was gone and in its place there was something foreign and spitting, something that, Wayne wondered as he trekked back to Hawkins, might have always been there in the depths, waiting to be released.

Maybe not just in Eddie.

But in everyone.

"The thought of abandoning [him] to save himself was never an option.[ ]He would defend them [both] until his end." - Wendy Owens, The Guardians Crown

[oldfashionedmorphine]

“Sometimes I wanna write Will’s POV of the same scene and that was one of those times”

me to @boahey and 1k words later…Oops! 🤭

[ spoilers if you haven’t read it yet ]

Below the cut is Will’s POV from chapter 14 of I’m a Wreck Without You Here for the glasses scene 🤓

enjoy!

If you don’t want to read Will’s POV to keep up the mystery of what he’s thinking, that’s totally fine. I really just couldn’t help myself. This scene just won’t leave my brain!

tagging my fans: @across-thestars @magentamee @daydreams-in-the-moonlight @rebellius @booksandpaperss @sparks-olivarpente (again you guys don’t have to read it, but if you’re curious what he was thinking before… 😉)

——————

All in.

That’s what Will told himself the second he decided to allow Mike back into his life. Being all in meant being there for him. And it was easy to do because he was still wildly and ridiculously in love with him even after all these years and all their drama—which also made him really angry over how easy it was. He hated that he still had so much love for Mike, because he’s tried for so many years not to.

And that love for Mike was the only reason he agreed to walk all the way back to his car from the cemetery in eighty-three degree weather while wearing a suit and uncomfortable dress shoes through a grass field. Well, the shortcut was his own idea, but that’s only because his feet hurt in these stupid shoes. Maybe it was unconventional, but Mike actually had the right idea wearing an old pair of converse to the funeral.

But again, he was doing this for him. Because Mike needed him and he was all in. At least he didn’t remotely mind their conversation, they were getting to know each other again, so that part alone was worth it and he’d do it again in a heartbeat if he had to.

Even so, Will was thrilled when they reached his car. He’s quick to open the door for Mike, but then Mike tells him they should check to see if they acquired ticks along their short journey. Okay, fair point. He was smart to suggest it. And once they were finally in the car, he turns the engine on and puts the air conditioning up to full blast. He was so sweaty and sticky and it was uncomfortable as hell. But again…it was worth it to be there for Mike.

Will pulls out of the parking lot, with the sound of classical music filling the air, and he muses to himself about what it would be like to kiss Mike. He blames it on the romantic music of course, but it’s not like he hasn’t thought about it over a thousand times already. Will’s hopes for finally getting to kiss Mike, after so many years and so much heartbreak, was at an all-time high. Beyond delusional really. Ever since that night in the basement…

He’s wanted to ask him about it, because he almost doesn’t believe he heard him right.

What if I was hallucinating the whole thing? What if that’s not what he meant to say? Maybe I heard him wrong?

Will didn’t want to make a fool of himself. The truth was, Will had resigned himself years ago to the reality that Mike was straight and that his love for him was a waste of time and only a recipe for heartbreak. Which it ultimately was, the heartbreak was the main reason he had to cut Mike out of his life. But maybe he was wrong this whole time. And if he was wrong, what were the chances that Mike could finally like him back? Will started to entertain the possibility that Mike could actually reciprocate his feelings this time around the morning after that night drinking in the basement. It was when they were standing together in the kitchen and conversing so easily as though they hadn’t spent almost fifteen years barely speaking a word to each other. Because it felt as though the stars had aligned for him—like Mike was already his and he was always meant to be. He wanted to ask, he needed to know. Or was he merely going crazy for simply considering it? But then Jonathan walked in, reminding him why they were even talking again at all. And he hasn’t found the right moment to ask him about it since. Because later that day they said their final goodbyes to Nancy, so he felt the timing wasn’t right. And today, less than an hour ago, they buried her. It felt selfish to bring it up. He had to wait for the right moment.

Will glances over at Mike to find he was staring at him, or rather smiling dreamingly and looking a little lovesick. Then he looks back at the road perplexed.

Maybe I’m not wrong at all…

And so Will laughs at him. “Why are you smiling like that?”

“Hm?”

It would be wise for him to rule out anything obvious first, so he asks, “Is there something on my face?”

“Oh…uh, yeah actually…” Mike starts to say and there was a slight pause before he adds, “I was just thinking you look really good in glasses.”

Will snorts.

What the hell, Mike? That came out of nowhere… Okay, calm down, it’s just a friendly compliment. Don’t read into it.

Of course, staying calm was a bit tricky, because his heart was beating horribly fast.

“Seriously, Will, I’m not messing with you. I promise…I really like ‘em!” There was considerable strain in Mike’s voice, like he was shocked that he didn’t believe him or something, and now he was trying extra hard to prove his point.

Okay, this could be fun…

“Well, they help me to see,” he says plainly, because now he wanted Mike to think he didn’t care.

“But, I really mean it…they look so good on you, y’know?”

Don’t say anything, don’t say anything, don’t even smile…

“They do. I swear!”

Will shrugs. Yup. Keep pretending like you don’t care.

“Are you fucking serious? I’m basically telling you that your glasses make you look hot, so would you just take the damn compliment?!”

A wicked smile spreads across his face. Mike thinks I look hot, huh? “And who said that I didn’t?” And then Will decides to be bold and turns to give him a quick wink, but of course he turns away to look back at the road just as fast, because that was part of the fun. And yet he still shocked himself with how he even managed to pull it off at all. His heart was ready to leap out of his chest.

After almost a minute he can hear Mike sighing. If they weren’t about to walk into a funeral reception in less than two minutes, this would be the moment. He would ask what he’s been dying to ask him. And Will is sure he knows the answer now. Though he can still have a little bit more fun first. “Besides…you were so adamant to prove your point that you think I look hot with glasses, why would I ever stop you? Please, tell me what else you like.”

“Jeez, I forgot how insufferable you can be.”

Will chuckles. “You know you missed it…well anyway, we’re here.” He states as he pulls the car into the parking lot and finds an open space. Their comfortable little bubble had to burst again.

[mcalhenwrites]

I’ve been wanting to make a post about Shannon’s backstory and the revisions I made and where that comes from.

[Spoilers for Seasons ahead, but also caution for pretty grisly weather details.]

This has to do with Shannon and the time his magic went out of control and caused severe and fatal winds.

Between the original and the revision of Seasons, I've started lurking around tornado forums. Part of this stems from having some traumatic close-calls. (Andover 1991, Haysville 1999 are the two most memorable ones.)

Then one hit the town I live in this year, on Andover's fucking anniversary. We’ve had a lot of tornadoes and funnels in my area since then. I’ve never heard so many sirens in a year. So I’ve started digging around, trying to learn more about tornadoes.

That’s how I heard about Jarrell, TX, and a term that has spawned a few nightmares since: human granulation. (Please be cautious if you google that. It’s not an easy topic, and it’s heartbreaking and haunting at the same time.)

Shannon’s summer storm summoned serious winds in a short time. Bark was stripped off of trees. He was within a short distance of the lake, which had a sand-and-pebbles shore. It pelted everything. It sanded things. Sanded skin. Ripped bodies to shreds.

Shannon did not come out of that without trauma. Particularly when his magic is what went out of control and caused it.

He lost his dog, did something he had no control over (and might've been able to prevent if Vivian had let him practice his magic in a healthy way), and was punished.

I don't care if anyone wants to repeat that he killed five boys.

He didn't mean to.

Those five boys intentionally beat his dog until she died. They did something out of cruelty; Shannon didn't mean to do something when he panicked. No one should have died. Not the boys, not the dog. Even Shannon agrees with that sentiment.

Shannon is a little fucked up, yes. Coming out of that, who wouldn't be?

This isn't justification for his actions when he sees the basement and meets his father again btw.

Shannon stepped away from a nightmarish scene that hasn’t stopped haunting him his entire life. It’s just something he has to live with.

When I get back to editing Summer's Storm and make it public again, I’ll be applying these same grisly changes to that story.

I think there's something fascinating and terrifying about tornadoes and their wind strength. I have photos from Haysville 1991 that are wild. I don’t even understand how tornadoes can do something like that. I’m afraid of them due to my experiences, and it’s very hard not to think of them as sentient. (Then the “Dead Man Walking” tornadoes don’t help/add to the levels of terrifying. Jarrell apparently is one such tornado too.)

I have no doubt that Shannon’s magic led to something disturbing. The townspeople who went looking for those five missing boys would have found something pretty horrific near the lake after their search.

Bailey’s body probably was carried back by Graham, so she wouldn’t have been left there. I’m sure he buried her somewhere in the mountains.