#i am Feeling weird and just clocked myself logging onto here

[swanqueensalad]

fandom is so weird because like... am i grown woman? yes. has it been the better part of a decade since i first watched ouat and fell in love with regina mills? yes. i was a child then. i am an adult now. i have less free time and more worries and yet when i find myself struggling or having a bad time, what do i turn to? thinking about my goddamn blorbo. writing fic wherein i can better understand parts of my own troubles via these fictional people who i have come to know, over the years, as if they are old friends. sharing shitposts with u lot to make u giggle. there is an unending well of comfort and familiarity here that is so strange and silly and special.

[thiswasinevitableid]

57 sternclay nsfw? i can see stern complaining to a stranger that his ex complained about how weird his kinks were while dumping him

Here you go! 57: “we’re fighting over the last box of half-off valentine’s day chocolate and end up in a “who has it worse” battle.

For being in a mountain town in the slow season, the seasonal candy shelves of the Kepler Walgreens are bare. Were it 10 am on Valentines Day, Joseph would be in a panic. At 10 p.m, it feels like yet more proof this trip is utterly doomed.

But he didn’t become one of the top agents in the Department of Unexplained Phenomena by being unobservant. On the top shelf, pushed towards the back, is a bag of Reese's hearts and a bag of M&Ms. Thank you, years of training.

Being six feet tall helps too.

He’s so locked onto his target that he doesn’t notice the other person in the store until their hands smack into each other en route to the bags.

“Sorry, uh, lemme just get these and I’ll get out of your way.” A voice as deep and sweet as summer honey reaches his ears.

“I’m sorry, but I was going to buy these.” He starts pulling the bags towards him, only for the other guy to grab them. Joseph glares; the man trying to relieve him of his last solace looks like the kind of lumberjack you see in recordings titled things, “Log Pounders IV” or “Bear Hunting.”

“Look, buddy, I really need these so can you, like, find some other bags?”

“These are the last two. And I guarantee I need them more.” As long as he keeps a pleasant voice and gives no ground, this should go smoothly.

“Unless you got dumped this month, I don’t think you do.”

“I got dumped seven hours ago.” He says through an increasingly tight-lipped smile.

“At least your ex isn’t tagging you in a bunch of photos bragging about his new boyfriend.”

“He can’t, because he probably only just got back to his apartment in the rental car. The one I’m now stranded here without.”

“Pfft, just call an Uber or something.”

“It’ll cost several hundred dollars to get home!”

“You look like you can afford it.” Brown eyes flick from his hair down to his shoes, “some of us have to use half-price candy to soothe our wounds. You’re probably staying at the kind of fancy B&B where they have complimentary booze.”

“I would be, except their was a fuck-up with the reservation. Which my ex took as proof this was time to end things, and is the reason I’m dragging this all over town.” He kicks his ergonomically designed, rolling suitcase hard enough that it bumps into his adversary.

“Better he gave you some bullshit reason than the truth, which mine was all too happy to tell me. You can have these when someone you tried to make happy tells you he thinks you’re ‘too soft’ and that if only you’d manned up he woulda stayed, whatever the fuck that even means.”

Goddamnit, Joseph is not about to lose this argument--and his candy--on top of everything else.

“I’ll trade you that for being told you’re: too exacting, far more uncool than your job implies, too anxious, too invested in your work, that your whole personality is flawed and, just for extra fun, that your kinks are too weird and no one in their right mind would ever want to sleep with you if they knew them ahead of time.”

The other man’s hold on the bags loosens. Then it returns, stronger than before, as he grumbles, “Please, no one’s kinks are that weird.”

“You have no idea what mine are.”

“Then how about you give me a demonstration, huh?” Lumberjack snaps.

Joseph's common sense finally catches up with his thirst for comfort and, apparently, conflict.

“I, I’m sorry, did you just offer to fuck me in the middle of a fight over discount candy?”

“I....” the man lets go of the bags, chuckles, “yeah, I did. Fuck, I’m sorry, it’s been such a shitty day that my mouth decided it was gonna do whatever it took to stay in that fight.”

Joseph laughs a little, slumping against the shelf, “I guess it’s nice to know I’m not the only person in town whose Valentine’s Day didn’t go to plan.”

“No kidding. Though, uh, I didn’t get dumped this month. It was three months ago. He did tag me in all those photos today though.”

“That’s so rude.”

“Not as rude as leaving your boyfriend stranded in the mountains.”

B-grade pop hits fill the awkward silence between them.

“I, uh, this might be way outta line, but I got an idea; if you buy the candy, I can take us back to my place and bake something with it. That way we can both enjoy it, and you won’t be stuck wandering around in the cold.”

He runs a quick is-this-a-serial-killer scan of the man in front of him.

“Sure. But just so you know, I’m opening the Reeses in the car.”

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

“Feeling better?” Barclay, his host, wipes stray cupcake crumbs from his lips.

“Much.” He polishes off his second coffee-cocoa cupcake with M&Ms in the batter, lifts his coffee cup, “this place is lucky to have you.”

Barclay blushes the same way he has every time Joseph compliments his cooking, home, or taste in books. They’ve spent the last ninety minutes in the kitchen of Barclay’s small, A-Frame cabin, one of eight laid out in a half circle behind Amnesty Lodge. The cook explained that the cabins were for staff or long term residents, and that while the Lodge sometimes had vacancies, this week had seen them swamped.

The rain alternates between pleasant pitter-pats and drops that could kill a small bird, so Joseph is incredibly grateful to Barclay for giving him a place to shelter. When he thanks him, the cook shrugs with a little smile, “you shouldn’t leave nice things out in the rain.”

As they’re cleaning up the dishes, Barclay passes him a plate and says, “You can stay here tonight. If, uh, if you want. The couch isn’t much, but it’s dry and I’ve got a bunch of spare blankets.”

“That’d be great, thank you. And, um, thank you for being so nice to me, given how we met.”

“Eh, no one who’s in a Walgreens after ten is in a good mood. And, uh, it’s nice to have someone to talk with. I’m kinda the quiet one of my friends, and work is mostly calling orders and stuff.” He pulls the coffee pot from the heat, “can I top you off?”

“Yes, please.” His caffeine tolerance is so high a few cups late at night doesn’t mess with his sleep. Barclay is sticking with tea, something scented like cardamon and comfort.

They move to the couch that’s clearly been re-covered a dozen times, Barclay only getting up to turn on some music; delta blues, if Joseph’s ear is right. It’s not until the clock strikes one thirty that Joseph notices they’re sitting so close that their knees bump whenever one of them turns to talk.

“Okay, I gotta ask” Barclay’s brown eyes shine sweet and playful, “what exactly was so weird about your kinks that your dickhead ex went out of his way to mention them?”

He thinks a moment, scanning his body and noticing he’s more relaxed than he’s been in weeks, including all the times he spent with his ex. Something about the faint scent of dish-soap on Barclays hands, the gentle smile that makes Joseph certain that--for all his bulk--if Joseph told him to roll over and show his belly, he’d do it in an instant, the way he doesn’t rolls his eyes or shy away when Joseph talks, all of that makes him calm. Which makes him bold.

“Wait right here.” He hops up, grabs his bag from the door and pulls it over to the rug by the couch. All he has to do to reveal his secret is lift his pajamas.

“Holy fuck.” Barclay leans forward, “you really came prepared.”

“It was supposed to be a romantic getaway. I...we’d never used any of this together, but I hoped we might this time. It’s, it’s not his fault, I know my tastes aren’t for everyone, and we had plenty in common in bed. But he went through this whole thing where he said we should share our deepest fantasies. Apparently wanting to be choked is fine, but wanting to fuck Mothman is not.”

“That’s what this one is.” Barclay picks up one of the two dildos, black with lots of swirling ridges.

“That’s actually my dragon one. Um.” he holds up the ovipositor toy, “this one is supposed to be mothman.”

Barclay squishes one of the silicone eggs, “that feels kinda nice. What else did you bring?”

His genuine interest is not helping Joseph keep his hopes under control.

“The other toy is the ‘bigfoot’ model. And this is, um, this is my newest one, I was so excited I pre-ordered it. It acts like a cock-sleeve, but this part here is supposed to mimic a, um, a knot.”

“Like the idea of getting knotted, babe?” The cook’s voice is a little deeper than when he last spoke, and rather than pulling away he’s inching into Joseph’s space.

“Yes. I, um, I’m getting the sense” he shifts so his hands are on Barclay’s knees, “that we might have something in common besides our taste in leftover candy.”

“I packed all this so carefully” he brushes their lips together, “it’d be a shame to let it sit unused.”

Barclay scoops him into a kiss, growling happily when Joseph instantly parts his lips. His beard is soft and tickly under Joseph’s palms, and his mind takes the thought of getting beard-burn on his thighs and runs so far with it that he almost misses what Barclay says next.

“In that case, you better decide if you want me to open your ass up so I can fuck you with a knot, or if you wanna do it yourself.”

“I prefer to do it myself.”

A second kiss, a bit gentler this time, “bedroom’s at the end of the hall. Get naked and wait for me there?”

“Roger that, big guy.”

When Barclay growls this time it’s rougher, jumping out of his chest and seeming to surprise him.

Joseph undresses as Barclay stops off in the bathroom, rifling through the medicine cabinet while Joseph folds his clothes. He’s down to his boxers when he remembers there is a conversation he needed to have before it hit this point.

“You trying to get me to rip those off with my teeth?” Barclay grins as he sets some condoms and lube on the bed and starts taking off his pants.

“I, um, there’s something you should be aware of. We don’t have the same, um, set-up.”

Barclay furrows his brow, gets his meaning, then nods, “no problem. If you’re okay with that part of you being involved I, uh, I just got a really, really good idea for what to do.”

“It’s not always the case, but tonight I definitely want it involved. I want you inside me as many ways as possible.”

“Fuck yeah.” Barclay tosses his shirt into the laundry, “get your ass open enough to take that knot.”

He slips the condom on, douses it with lube, and presses the first finger in, discovering that he's unable to stop complimenting Barclay for even five seconds while he finishes disrobing. The flush under his dark chest hair is unendingly charming, as is the little whine he makes at Joseph telling him he likes how big he is.

“I, I’m serious, ahhn, it’s rare to find someone taller than me and I really like it.”

“Feeds into the monster thing?” Barclay crawls beside him, laying down so he can kiss him as he works the second finger in.

“In a way.”

A deep, rumbly chuckle that has Joseph fucking himself hurriedly, “Don’t be coy, babe. You like the thought of something big and hairy getting a hold of you and not letting you go until you’re dripping cum.”

“Holy shit, yes” he gets the third finger in, sighing as Barclay nuzzles his neck.

“Well, I’m not bigfoot, but I’m betting I’ll do just fine.”

“More than fine.” Joseph kisses him, feels him smile in a way that melts his heart like cheap chocolate.

“Got some other theories about you, babe, but you gotta wait until you’re on my dick to hear ‘em.” Barclay sits up, stroking his cock in time with Joseph’s hand, “fucking-A, can’t believe your ex didn’t wanna stick around for this. You look like a fucking porn star; we oughta record you getting fucked in your suit and sell if for big bucks.”

He moans, pulling his fingers free, “Fuck me now. Please.”

“Fuck that’s hot.” Barclay works the sleeve down over his cock, sits up against the wall, “come sit in my lap, facing away.”

Joseph straddles him, gasps when the head of his cock presses in. He prepped well, but all the same he has to take his time wiggling his way down. Barclay caresses him, grunting and whimpering whenever he moves, breath prickling the hairs at the base of his neck. It’s heavenly.

When he hits the knot, Barclay rubs more lube on it, but it stays outside of him as he grinds on it. Between moans, the cook manages to say, “want me to start the next part?”

“Yes, please.”

Barclay loads the ovipositor with the three eggs, praises Joseph for being a good boy when he spreads his legs to accommodate the head of the toy.

“I, I thought you had more you were going to tell me?” He tilts his head awkwardly to kiss Barclay’s shoulder.

“Uh huh.” Barclay slowly works the toy in and out, doing his best to sync it to the rolls of his hips, “I think you’re the kind of guy who doesn’t just want one monster; you want ‘em all.”

“Variety is, ohgod, part of a healthy sex life.”

“I don’t mean one monster on one day and a different one on another. I think you want them all at once.”

“Oh yes, oh! Ohohoh” he kicks his legs as the first egg pushes in, “fuck, Barclay, please keep going.”

“Whatever you want, babe.” He nuzzles Joseph’s hair, “that’s how I came up with this plan; seeing all those different dicks made me think you’d, fuck, you’d like me to pretend there was more than just me fucking you.”

Joseph nods, clinging to Barclays arm and bearing down on the knot.

“Can just see it now; you got yourself lost in the woods out here, go looking for help only to find a whole bunch of monsters waiting for you. Spend the rest of the night pressed into the dirt and leaves while every cryptid from, fuck” he bucks his hips, “from here to Canada had their turn.”

“Shit, shit” the knot starts pushing in, “y-you’ve got my number, big guy.”

“Yeah?” Barclay squeezes the base of the toy as he talks, causing the remaining two eggs to push their way in, Joseph’s body clenching around them, “you want a night where all your good for is being fucked, where if you beg for a break you get a bigfoot fucking your throat and werewolves cumming on your chest instead of them all mobbing you at once?”

“Shit, yes, YESohfuck” the knot enters him as Barclay shoves his hips down, “ohmygod that’s good, fuck, I feel so full, you’re so smart, this was genius, fuck you know how to treat meAHannnfuck, shit.” He holds on to Barclays arm’s as the other man fucks him with abandon.

“Oh I know, babe. Know I was fucking right. You wanna be claimed, wanna be owned, wanna be bred by a whole fuckin pack-”

“Jesuschrist” it’s hard to breathe at the pace Barclay sets, his body aching to cum but not quite able to get there. He squeezes his eyes shut, rubbing frantically at his dick as Barclay loses himself in the fantasy.

“You’d be so cute, leaves in your hair and cum on your chin, taking it all and begging for more. Good thing you’re so needy, you could tear a pack apart with folks fighting over who gets to fuck you, fuck, Joseph, baby, you’re so fucking good, gonna be so fucking good to you, fuck, fuck” he shoves as deep as he can while he cums, and in the haze of pleasure Joseph swears claws prick the skin of his chest. Just the thought of that sends his own orgasm coursing through him, his body tensing and twisting on Barclay’s cock, making them both moan from sudden overstimulation.

“S-sorry” Barclay pants.

“Nothing to apologize for, just physiology, here, let me ow, ow, okay maybe I should have relaxed more first.” He’s free of both toys, but that was right on the edge of too painful. He waits for Barclay to take off the sleeve, then rolls the bigger man so his head is on his chest.

“Your ex didn’t know how good they had it.”

“Thanks, babe.”

He smiles, “I like that. No one ever calls me something that informal.”

“Call you it whenever you want. Babe.” Barclay kisses his arm, “you can, uh, stay in bed if you want. We don’t have a ton of time together so I’d, uh, well, I’d like to spend as much of it with you as I can.”

For the first time, Joseph wishes his vacation would last longer.

“Agreed, big guy.”

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

“You said you had my new assignment, sir?”

“Yes. Agent Stern, you will be going to the town of Kepler to investigate the events described in this file.” Agent Hayes passses him the folder.

“Understood, sir.”

Joseph manages to keep his smile to himself all the way to his desk.

[geejaysmith]

Wolf 359 Classpects, pt. 1

Soooo, while I was still busy with the last few weeks of my summer internship, I did keep thinking about classpecting the Wolf 359 cast. Possibly too much, because it wouldn't leave me alone until I'd solved my own God Tier riddle. Unfortunately, it got really long in the solving because I have many Thoughts and want to share all of them, always, so uh, a complete Classpect Analysis of Wolf 359 will be in parts? This first one covers Eiffel's, Hera's, Lovelace's and Minkowski's aspects.

DOUG EIFFEL: An utter no-brainer; ya boi Dougie Fresh is a Breath player if I ever saw one. For Chrissakes, he's the communications officer, and the first one to start complaining about the monotony of being stuck in a deep space sardine can. Breath is associated with communication, freedom, openness, and change - "free as the breeze", you might think of it, but that also leads to Breath players having trouble pinning themselves down to anything. They get skittish if they feel pinned down, and frustrated when stuck in place. Doug's noncommittal aloofness, the way he's off in his own little world (partially to hide from the fact he really does not like himself very much at all), and the way he's incorporated media into his self-perception all match pretty well with John and the Nitrams. But at the same time, he's the one playing mediator even as early as The Sound And The Fury. Being largely outside of the War Industrial Complex the other characters are so familiar with and thus mostly free from its dogmatic worldview of hierarchy and order, he's becomes the One Sane Man when he's the one to shout "what is WRONG with you people?" when "murder" shows up in the top 3 potential solutions to a problem, and he has no hesitation in saying what's on his mind. And it's not all complaints and bad ideas, either; he's got whole speeches telling the others how amazing he thinks they are and how in awe he is of their skills. A key catalyst in the plot of Wolf 359 is the reaching effects of his radio broadcasts. Also, there's something hilarious to the fact that for the aspect associated with communication, Doug *literally* cannot lie to save his life. I kept my ears open for the infamous Breath Hex on my second listen - that is, the strange little way in which things Breath players say tend to come to pass in reality. Cigarette Candy is basically 20 straight minutes of the Decima virus being Breath Hexed into existence, and he guessed Lovelace's situation in one - "Maybe she's a clone, or like a *really* good robot replica."

HERA: Another easy one. Although Hera is resistant to splintering as we've come to recognize it, Heart players are nothing if not determined to be an individual. They have a firm idea of themselves as a person and defend it fiercely, including compartmentalizing away pieces that don't fit their self-image. Maybe less actively putting them down like Jade Harley did to Jadesprite (the manifestation of the negative feelings she repressed out of fear they'd make her less useful) - that would mean attacking or denying a part of themselves - and more... "why yes, I put this part of myself in this box, and I may look at the box on occasion, the box definitely exists, but I don't go near the box and I definitely do not touch or open or interact with the box. And then one day, I will die." So that piece finds other avenues to express itself because it can't not do that. Hera's programming dictates she be "chipper and non-confrontational and always ready to help", but she actively resists being a mere utility and always has - her earliest know action was to attempt a jailbreak of the manufacturing facility she was made in, born rebel that she is. She will insist upon her name over her serial number unless you force her not to, and gets passive-aggressive at people treating her like a machine. And yet, even as she teaches herself to ignore commands literally written into the base of her personality, she doesn't reject her directive to be helpful, nor does she express a wish to be a flesh-and-blood human, or even really to have a physical form? She has a human self-image in mental spaces (we presume, I will semi-seriously point out there's nothing definitively stating she doesn't see herself as like, her fursona or something), but when she has to limit herself to a human-like view of the ship, her immediate reaction is "this is weird, I don't like it."  This is honestly something about Hera that I think may be unique among non-villainous AI characters; she seems to be content with being what she is in general, and she just wishes for people to treat her as a person and not a piece of equipment they can do with as they please.  

ISABEL LOVELACE: Arm-wrestled Hera for the Heart aspect and lost, despite Hera not actually having any arms, but that's okay because there's two aspects that fit her much better: Blood and Time. I ultimately went with Blood.

This is the part where you notice I'm onto the third of four characters in an aspects-only meta post, yet there is still a lot of post to go. This is because These Kinds Of Characters, the sort that're constantly on emotional lockdown, are a Challenge Mode, and for me to truly be satisfied with my classification I have to start drilling into the bedrock of what it even means to have an aspect in general, what it means to have a specific aspect, and what each aspect is really about. When you're on that level you tend to find yourself throwing out explicit expositional statements as incomplete, oversimplified, or unreliable, and looking at the text directly with a subtextual electron microscope. Brace yourselves. I have thrown the author out of the airlock, and I am about to get verbose.  

Lovelace's character sheet describes her in contradictions, and we get to see two different sides to her that resolve into the complete picture by the time Lovelace Mk. III wakes up. There's Captain Isabel Lovelace, goofing around in her earlier logs, and The Terminator. She does things Her Way and is very much prepared to fight you if you object - the whole reason she was picked for the Hephaestus mission was her willingness to go against (in her words) "stupid orders" and do what she thought was right. She's also fiercely loyal; The Terminator is the end result of her anger and grief for her lost crew and at her failure to get them home alive. Her backstory episode has her summing up her complicated relationship to the Air Force with "I owe a lot of who I am to them." And even before she and Minkowski have completely stopped butting heads, Lovelace shoves her out of the way of an exploding wall panel that would've killed her, and takes a near-fatal bit of shrapnel to the gut in the process. At her best, Lovelace is a fearless, boundlessly determined, dedicated firebrand of a leader. At worst, she can be impatient, stubborn, shortsighted, and ruthless. I dunno about you but that reminds me of a certain... angry crab that I know.

"Time" was what a few people chimed in with for Lovelace and while I see some of the connections (her awareness of the time loop, "Variations on a Theme", her multiple selves and multiple deaths, the repeated motif of clocks and pocketwatches) I don't think she quite fits in with the other Time players. Unlike most Time players, she doesn't have a fixation with historic context, the "Why Things Are The Way That They Are." This manifests in Dave's paleontology and his taking of source material for ironic twisting, Aradia's archaeology and knowledge of The Nature Of The Game, Damara's... /noises and vague gestures bc I don't want to go back through Meenahbound but her role as The Handmaid fits the pattern, and Caliborn's own warped, thoughtless replication of narrative archetypes. Context. Decisions. What came before and how it shapes the now, where your decisions will take it from here. The consequences those decisions will have. The details versus the larger picture. Even failure has its place in that scheme - that's the Time aspect. Lovelace doesn't like to dwell, she's a very "barrelling forward momentum" kind of person.

Side note: Aradia, Dave, and Damara all face hesitation to take action they had to learn to overcome. Also, all of them had to be pushed to use violence except in self-defense; Aradia let Vriska cross a series of lines before beating the everloving shit out of her, and Damara snapped after what, years? Of Meenah's abuse. Dave, on the other hand, never raises a hand to another person except as a complete necessity. Caliborn is, if anything, an aberration here in that he's outright homocidal and self-doubt is something that happens to other people. Caliborn is an outright aberration to a lot of Time player patterns, and to SBURB in general, because it's SBURB, so the rules are made up and the points don't fucking matter, except when they do, because Fuck You, The Author Said So.

No, Lovelace's approach to decision-making is that regrets are for afterwards, and "if I fail I deserve to be out of this picture; also, this situation has gone entirely pear-shaped, time to fling myself into the sun." (and that sounds an awful lot like someone that I know very well, but I'll deal with that royal mess when I get to the crazy whamma-jamma that is Classes). Impatience and railroading of other people can be her undoing just the same as assertiveness and decisiveness are her gifts.

...aaand then I went ahead and watched the live episode and yeah, major Karkat vibes there. However, I note that I don't believe we have ever hit hard evidence in Homestuck that Blood players are capable of Chilling The Fuck Out - this is part of the limitations of classpecting characters who weren't made for this system, you really have to dig into how much of their behavior is situational and where you see the kernel of individual perception shine through, the Rosetta Stone by which you begin to see the constants. "Where the object becomes the subject", to quote Memoria.

Finally, I think it's also worth noting that while Lovelace has a lot of connections to Time motifs, she also has connections to a lot of Blood motifs that arguably become more important to her story. Personal bonds and social justice are two of the Blood aspects strongest associations - see Lovelace's loyalty to her crew, and extending her desire to avenge them out to everyone Goddard Futuristics has ever used and tossed aside. The physical body and literal blood are other strong associations, and gee, how many times does the O-negative Cure-All Alien Juice in Lovelace's veins become a critical plot point? Not to mention the implication that her new friends all pulled through the finale because all of them now have her blood in their system. I'll accept that she's closer to the line between Blood and Time than some, but I'm holding by ground here: 

(Also, here's some irony for you, she may share an aspect with the Cancer trolls, but her birthday is August 11th, making her a Leo.)

RENEE MINKOWSKI: Minkowski was the hardest of these 4 to come to a decision on. My first inclination was Mind. Her general disposition put me in mind of a Life player. But then, I sat down and thought my way past the Commander's layers of emotional armor and ultimately settled on Light.

First off, by being a stickler for protocol and procedure as well as an Actual Responsible Adult, Minkowski is a kind of character that Homestuck straight-up just does not have, so snap judgements aren't gonna cut it here.  This is, again, another limitation of the classpecting system - all the examples we have to draw from are teenage disasters stuck in a lawless hellscape of some description or another, and written by an author allergic to boxing himself in with hard conclusions. But I digress.

Commander Minkowski is also stubborn. When she sets her mind to something, she digs in her heels, cranks the dial to 11, and then breaks off the knob and pockets it so you can't turn it back down. We see this as soon as episode 2, and at it's most hyperbolic when she Captain Ahabs the plant monster. Her's is iron-willed, bloody-minded, unstoppable, Determi-fucking-nation - when she sets her mind to it.

The submarine thought exercise is what had me initially lock her down as a hero of Mind before I mulled it over. The exercise is meant to provoke thought about priorities - what you think your role's purpose is in that situation will determine your priorities, and thus, your decisions. Mind heroes' most prominent skills are in riding the flow of causality, watching decisions, their causes and their consequences, and directing that path. They know people, and how to direct people. But the need for this means that they can get a little co-dependent. Other people are understandable - it's themselves that Mind heroes have the greatest struggle with. Without that vehicle of another person, Mind heroes may find themselves adrift and struggling to define themselves. This is fitting, given Mind is the most direct counterpart to the Heart aspect.

However, upon further examination, I found that this framework of priorities setting your decisions can also be extended to the Light aspect. What is "lucky" in a given situation? What do you define as a fortunate outcome? Rose arguably gets Grimdark'd by something like this, she asks the cue ball "are the horrorterrors evil?" and in doing so attempts to pry into the motivations and intent of *indescribable eldritch beings existing on a nigh-incomprehensible plane* and wedge it down into a relative human understanding of morality, which is sort of like trying to fit the Pacific Ocean into a water bottle. She was trying to deduce what impact the horrorterrors would have upon her and her friends, but asked the wrong question and got an answer she couldn't handle. She didn't recognize Doc Scratch was baiting her into this by leading her into a specific framework through which to ask the question. Vriska died because of her failure to recognize she was in a situation where luck didn't matter. Aranea got trounced because of her inability to recognize that reshuffling reality to prioritize herself and her preferred outcomes still didn't overcome the fundamental nature of timelines - you try to take over the alpha timeline with an insubordinate branch? That's a doomed timeline no matter how you slice it, and we know what happens to those. Luck and knowledge are both used by the Light-bound to give themselves power, whether in showing themselves off as The Smart One or the The Helpful One or The Unstoppable One, but their limited viewpoint often leads them to overlook the limitations of their own framework, or in other words, missing the bigger picture. I'll point out here also how Minkowski has the entire DSSPPM memorized and is the one who wants to get to the bottom of whatever the hell is really going on up at Wolf 359. Additionally, one of her other ambitions, at least once upon a time, was writing musicals. The verbal arts are one of the domains of Light players.

So while on the surface, Minkowski bears the most resemblance to a Life player, Life players tend to have an element of conformity to them. Unquestioned assumptions they've internalized have about the context in which they exist. Light heroes, on the other hand, need conformity so they have something to defy when they jump up and down screaming LOOK AT ME!  

So after much pontificating, I came to a decision. In the end, what Minkowski wanted more than anything else was a stage. Maybe to direct rather than hold the spotlight, but still; that's a Light hero if ever I saw one.

[raywritesthings]

Wrong Road to the Right Place 18/?

My Writing My Writing Fandom: Arrow Characters: Oliver Queen, Laurel Lance, John Diggle, Thea Queen, Tommy Merlyn, McKenna Hall, Quentin Lance Pairings: Laurel Lance/Oliver Queen Summary: Laurel finds herself curious about the marks Oliver showed her that night in his bedroom - and the tattoo on his left shoulder stands out in particular. When she discovers its meaning, she finds herself questioning everything she knows about the man she doesn’t want to admit she still loves. *Can also be read on my AO3 page*

“Okay, that should be everything I need you for today, Thea,” Laurel said as she logged out of the computer at her desk. They’d gotten through all the case files she’d wanted to today. Still none with Edward Rasmus involved, but she knew it had to be coming. Any day now, and she’d be on the clock as to how to proceed.

She looked up and found Thea still standing there.

“Don’t you need to wait for your ride downstairs?”

“It’s not coming. I’m going over to Roy’s.”

“Roy…? Right, purse thief,” Laurel remembered. She kept meaning to tell Oliver his sister had a new beau, but perhaps it was better that she give Thea and Roy some time first. “Okay then, have fun.”

But as she moved to go around her desk towards the door, Thea stepped in front. “Can we talk?”

“We’re talking right now,” Laurel pointed out.

Thea rolled her eyes. “Yeah, but not really. I mean, for crying out loud, Laurel, you were attacked last month, the guy that hired the hit was one of my dad’s old business partners, your mom came back to town, you moved in and then you and Ollie moved out — but it’s like everyone’s acting like nothing weird is going on.” She threw her arms out to the sides. “I mean, I think that’s plenty of weird stuff, but no one’s talking about it. Or not you’re not talking to me.”

Laurel felt a tug on her heartstrings. Thea, for all her partying and dabbling in substance abuse, was in many ways still an innocent. And she knew Oliver would give everything he had to preserve that, right along with Moira. They were mother and son, after all.

But Thea was a growing woman who wasn’t blind to the things going on around her. And if she had no one to turn to, she’d be in danger of going right back to the drugs.

“You’re right, I’m sorry. I have been keeping things to myself.” She took hold of Thea’s shoulders and gave them a squeeze. “That wasn’t fair.”

“Well, I’m kind of used to it. Ever since Ollie got home…”

Laurel nodded. “Right. Well, there are some things I won’t be able to tell you still, Thea, because they’re not just about me. But let’s take this somewhere a little more private.”

She led Thea to the stairwell to the back door. No one really used it except to head out behind the building for smoke breaks, and people were a little more focused on heading home for the day. The stairwell itself was rather ugly, the paint over the concrete steps chipping in several places.

Laurel leaned against the railing and thought over what she could talk about. It wasn’t much. “Okay, so, yes, I was attacked last month. I’m pretty much recovered, and I’ve been taking some classes to stay in shape.”

“Is that what the gym bag’s for?”

She nodded. “And, let’s see, you asked about my mother, right? She came to see me because she wanted help looking for Sara.”

Thea straightened up. “Sara’s alive?”

She shook her head. “Not so far as we can tell. My mom had what she thought was a lead, but it wasn’t her. She, um, also decided to finally tell me that she knew Sara was getting on the boat with Oliver, and she let her,” Laurel admitted, her voice getting lower and softer with the leftover pain.

Thea’s mouth hung open. “Oh my god, Laurel. I’m so sorry.”

She shrugged. “It was years ago. I guess I just would have appreciated her being honest from the start.”

“Are things with you and Ollie…?”

“Yeah, they’re fine. He actually had a talk with my mother about that. He had no idea she’d known, and it didn’t exactly sit well with him. It probably looks crazy to everyone else, but your brother’s really changed, Thea. I can really count on him.”

“Is that why you guys got your own place?”

“Yes and no.” Even if she couldn’t tell Thea everything, she didn’t like the idea of leaving the girl completely in the dark as to the danger they were in. “Because of Mr. Chen’s involvement in the attack at the award ceremony, Ollie’s a little...worried about security.”

“Because Mr. Chen was mom’s friend?” Thea snorted. “Never thought I’d see him agreeing with the Hood about something.”

Laurel bit back a laugh of her own. “Had to happen at some point. But the point is, because of his experiences on the island, he wants to be sure he knows exactly what is going on in his own space and who’s allowed there. Does that make sense?”

Thea sobered, nodding along. “Yeah. Just — am I allowed to be there?”

Laurel bit her lip. Thea couldn’t come down to the base without learning everything else. “That’s something I would have to talk to him about first. I promise I will,” she added when Thea’s shoulders drooped.

“No, it’s okay. He’s probably right about the Manor not being safe if that guy could get in anyway.”

Laurel froze. “What guy?”

Thea perked up, clearly excited to be telling her story. “Okay, you have to promise not to tell Ollie, cause mom doesn’t want him to worry or something.”

She raised an eyebrow at that. More likely, Moira didn’t want Oliver interfering. “Alright.”

“So, I was at home alone with Raisa, and I was heading for the kitchen when I noticed the light was on in mom’s office. So I opened the door, and there was this guy there at her computer.”

“Did he see you?”

“Yeah, but he just ran for it. I didn’t get a look at his face. He was wearing something that kind of made it hard to make out. Only he was dressed in like a normal business suit and one of those old-fashioned hats, you know? So I couldn’t see what color his hair was either.”

Laurel’s mind raced, trying to process this newest bit of information. If someone was looking at files from Moira’s home office, what were they after? And why?

“Do you know what he was looking for?”

Thea shrugged. “Mom wouldn’t even call the police, so there’s no way she’d talk to me about it. Like I said, she doesn’t even want Ollie to know.”

Her phone buzzed in her bag, so Laurel fished it out. “Speaking of,” she muttered upon seeing Oliver’s name on the caller I.D. She accepted the call. “Hey, I’ll be out in a minute.”

“I’m not actually there, uh, because your dad’s here. At the club,” Oliver said. “He’s pretty upset about a case, and Vertigo’s involved.”

“Great,” Laurel bit out. It would’ve been too much to hope that the Count’s incarceration in a mental hospital would’ve totally stopped the drug, but she knew it was a hot-button issue with both her father and boyfriend. “I’ll be right over to run interference. Don’t talk to him.”

“I love you,” Oliver said earnestly.

Laurel smiled to herself. “Love you, too.”

She turned back to Thea as she hung up the phone.

“Your brother and my father are getting into it again, so I am gonna have to head out if that’s okay.”

“He’s not arresting Ollie, is he?”

“Not if I have anything to say about it.” She mustered up a smile for Thea. “It’ll be fine. You shouldn’t keep Roy waiting.”

“Okay,” Thea agreed reluctantly.

“How are things going with him, anyway?” Laurel asked as they went down the front steps together.

“Interesting. He makes me think about things, you know? And I feel like he’s really decided to turn his life around since the Hood saved him from that crazy Savior guy.”

Laurel nodded. “Well, I’m always here for advice.”

“Thanks, but I think my brother needs it more than me right now,” Thea remarked with a grin.

They went their separate ways and soon enough Laurel was letting herself into the Verdant. She found Oliver waiting by the bar with Digg only a few feet to the side while her father paced the open space.

“Okay, let’s wrap this up so you can open,” Laurel directed to Oliver before spinning on her heels with her arms crossed to face her dad. “What is the problem?”

“A young woman turned up dead after leaving his club the other night. She OD’d on Vertigo,” her dad answered.

“And is there any evidence she obtained the Vertigo on this premises by a patron or employee of the club?”

“No.”

“Then my client — sorry, boyfriend,” she amended as Oliver smirked at her, “has no reason to be under suspicion in this case.”

“Her last text messages were to your good buddy, Merlyn,” her father said. “Asking for the drug.”

“Tommy doesn’t work for the club anymore,” Oliver pointed out. “He told me himself that I should be ready for soliciting by patrons for things the club doesn’t provide. This woman probably got ahold of his number without realizing he was no longer the manager.”

“Yeah, well let’s not forget you were seen attempting to purchase Vertigo only a couple months ago.”

“I already explained my actions to you and Detective Hall, since you seem to have forgotten, and there were no charges,” Oliver said heatedly.

“Oliver, stop talking,” Laurel said, stepping between the two of them. “Dad, I know you feel like you’re just following the evidence, but if you want to even turn over a chair in this place to look underneath it, you will have to come back with a warrant.”

He eyed her for a moment but seemed to realize she wasn’t backing down. “Fine. Shouldn’t take too long.” He squared his shoulders and left the building.

Oliver walked up behind her and wrapped his arms around her middle. “Have I mentioned you’re a life-saver lately?”

“Don’t thank me just yet.” She turned in his embrace. “You’re going to need to give me all of your papers for the club.”

Oliver frowned. “What for?”

“If there is anything illicit going on with this building, I have to find it before he does so I can do something about it.” She tilted her head meaningfully towards the floor. “Considering what’s in your basement storage…”

“Right. I’ll get it to you.”

“There’s one more thing,” she said, gripping onto his shirt to keep him from pulling away completely. “Thea just told me about a break-in at the Manor.”

“What?”

“Nothing on the news about that,” John mentioned.

“Moira’s not letting it get out. But Thea saw the intruder. He had some kind of way to mask his face and was looking at your mother’s files. She doesn’t know which ones specifically.”

“Just what we need,” Oliver grumbled.

“Ollie, you can’t act like you know, or Thea will be in trouble.”

“Alright. We’ll keep our focus on Vertigo for now. If we hear anything new about this intruder, then we’ll act,” he decided. She followed him into the office where he pulled up the relevant information about the club. “Is this good to start with?”

“Yeah.”

Oliver left her alone after, no doubt needing to get to work on tracking down Vertigo’s new distributor. Laurel wouldn’t be much for talking at the moment anyway, since she was hoping to get through all of these papers before her session with Ted that night. So long as there wasn’t anything too odd that stuck out for her father to use as grounds for suspicion or probable cause, they would be in the clear and could focus on more important things like finding the evidence to conclude once and for all what Malcolm Merlyn was up to in the Glades.

Then, of course, she found the bribe Tommy had paid a building inspector not to look at the basement area. Ollie doesn’t let anybody down there, was the note her friend had scribbled in the margins.

Laurel groaned and placed her face in her hands. They were both idiots.

—-

McKenna wasn’t completely sure what she was looking at here, but she knew it wasn’t good.

Whoever the mysterious guy with all the questions who’d sent her that phone was, his intel had unearthed a strange curiosity. Real estate in the Glades, just like he’d said. She’d taken a look, skeptical at first, only to find something she couldn’t explain.

Through a series of shell companies and hidden accounts, it appeared that one single entity owned almost the entirety of property within the impoverished neighborhood. The closest she had been able to come to a name was the company Sagittarius.

There were some other curiosities. A number of property purchases had been made by Robert Queen the last couple of weeks before his untimely death. Odd, considering the only property he’d owned in the Glades before — the foundry that now served as Oliver’s club — had already been shut down. Slowly, these properties had either been auctioned off or sold to the various accounts that funneled back to Sagittarius. The only thing McKenna couldn’t quite understand was, what for?

The Glades properties had largely been left to depreciate and rot. Landlords that leased the properties from Sagittarius were seemingly under no supervision and could get away with murder. Sometimes literally.

“It’s like whoever owns Sagittarius wants the neighborhood to go down in value,” she told Lance over a pot of coffee in the break room. “But that would be against their interest, wouldn’t it?”

“No way to tell if you don’t know who owns the company,” said Lance. He was only half-paying attention, his head stuck in some papers pertaining to the Verdant. “Could just be some kind of speculative investment type stuff those big wigs do.”

“The only property left in the Glades that isn’t owned by Sagittarius is the Verdant,” McKenna told him, hoping to entice him. He did look up, so she counted it moderately successful. “The Rebecca Merlyn Clinic was sold off at the start of the new year, which makes no sense because it wasn’t doing any worse than before.”

“Merlyn shut down his wife’s free clinic and we still gave him Humanitarian of the Year?” Lance shook his head.

“And look at these property buys by Robert Queen before his death. None of them had anything to do with his business. Some apartments, a grocer’s, two empty storefronts — it’s like he was grabbing whatever he could that was available.” McKenna looked up from her notes. “I think he knew something about this.”

Lance’s eyes widened. “You’re kidding.”

“He was going on a business trip when he died, right?”

He grimaced, and she felt slightly guilty for bringing up his own daughter’s death, however indirectly. “Yeah. Yeah, Laurel said, they were supposed to stop off in China for a week or so before coming back. Actually...wonder if that had anything to do with that Frank Chen.”

“The Chen that ordered the hit at the Humanitarian Award ceremony?” She jotted that down in the margins of her notes. “Well, since I can’t talk to him or Robert Queen, I’ll have to do the next best thing. How much do you think their friends or family might know?”

He shrugged. “Could be anything, could be nothing. But listen, Hall—” Lance snagged her arm before she could make to leave the break room. “Be careful about how close you get to all this stuff, alright? Especially if you’re planning to ask Merlyn any questions.”

“Why Merlyn?”

He hesitated. “A guy I know said something, that’s all.”

A guy he knew, huh?

“Alright, I’ll be careful.” McKenna returned to her desk, staring at her notes for a while. She was missing a big piece, the why of it all, and it was driving her crazy.

She glanced at the phone sitting on the corner of her desk. It hadn’t rang yet, and she hadn’t touched it beyond getting it dusted for prints that came back negative. The techs hadn’t been able to trace the purchase of it either.

With a furtive glance around the bullpen, she stood with the phone in her hand and went around to the back. This time when she dialed the pre-programmed number, it rang several times before being picked up.

“Detective Hall?” The altered voice almost sounded surprised, if she could even pick up tone from it.

“Listen, I looked into the Glades and the properties and I think I found what you wanted me to. Sagittarius. But what am I supposed to do about it?”

“Not sure yet. I’m still working on it.”

“Do you have more information? Because you need to give it to me. This is not a game.”

“I’m well aware of that, Detective. It’s why I can’t give you everything just yet. People’s lives are at stake.” There was a brief pause. “I have a number of files. Once I’ve figured out what’s safe to share, you’ll hear from me.”

“That is not how this — works,” she finished on a grumble as the line cut off. She had a feeling if she tried calling back she would be sent straight to voicemail. If the guy even had one set up.

This was ridiculous. Having to rely on vigilantes for intel wasn’t anywhere in the police academy training. If she’d wanted to deal with Deep Throat, she’d have become a journalist.

But someone — and she was betting her badge it was the Hood — had warned Lance off of tangling with Malcolm Merlyn. What did the Hood know about a shell company named for a symbol of archery?

Since she wouldn’t be likely to get in touch with him any time soon, she could start with Merlyn and his ilk. It was her best and only lead, since her contact wasn’t giving her anything better.

—-

Tommy had hit a wall. He’d have thought obtaining the files would be the tricky part, but Mrs. Queen had one more trick up her sleeve.

He couldn’t read any of them. They were all encrypted. Tommy wouldn’t even dream of being the expert on that. And he was loath to try and become self-taught.

For one thing, this information was too valuable to lose from a botched attempt at deciphering it. For another, his laptop was company-issued from Merlyn Global itself, and even someone of fairly average intelligence such as himself knew that would be as good as declaring his intentions to his father of dismantling his criminal enterprises.

He wasn’t willing to hire somebody to look over this information, and he couldn’t turn it over to the police without being cut off from learning the answers he was seeking. McKenna already seemed ready to bite his head off soon as look at him, not that she knew who to look for. He needed a way around the encryption that he could access.

If anybody had some kind of decryption programs on their computers, it would be Ollie. The Hood was always getting into this or that place or finding dirt on corrupt CEOs that was otherwise hidden from the general public. If he could get in and out without Oliver asking any questions — better yet, Oliver even knowing, all the better.

Night would be no good. Mr. Diggle or Laurel would be down there to keep in contact with Oliver while he was out there beating up and potentially killing people. Though admittedly it had been some time since he’d heard about that happening.

Middle of the day was usually when his old friend was down there training. But evening, perhaps, when they all needed to get something to eat. That would be his best bet.

Tommy left his office in Merlyn Global and went back to his apartment, putting on the suit he’d worn as his disguise to Queen Manor. He didn’t put it past Oliver to have cameras in his own base, and Tommy knew there were ones outside the Verdant.

He drove to the Glades, parking in an abandoned lot two plots down from the Verdant and out of range of its surveillance. Then, with a grimace, he pulled the pantyhose back over his face and jammed the hat on his head.

Tommy walked with his shoulders hunched and head down. It seemed most anyone in the area was already in the club, so he didn’t run into anyone going around the back of the club to the basement door. He let himself in with the keys he hadn’t quite gotten around to returning to Oliver yet and slipped down the stairs.

To his confusion, he didn’t immediately spot the computer that had sat near the middle of the floor of Oliver’s base. In fact, there didn’t seem to be much of anything down here of what he remembered. No arrows, no trunk holding the Hood suit. It looked more like an open-concept apartment.

As he passed the refrigerator that definitely hadn’t been there last time, he was caught in the stomach with a wooden stick. He staggered back as the air whooshed out of him, totally unprepared for the right hook that followed.

His attacker whirled him around and delivered a jab to the back of his knees that sent him crashing into a table. But not before he caught sight of her brown hair and green eyes.

Laurel.

He scrambled onto his feet, heart racing. She didn’t know it was him. She was going to hurt him, and he had no way to stop her.

“Wait. Wait!”

Laurel froze, the stick raised as her eyes went wide. “Tommy?”

He’d lost his hat at some point, so it was easy enough to pull off the rudimentary mask. “Oh, God, I thought I was gonna die. Oliver been teaching you some things?”

“What do you think you’re doing?” She demanded rather than reply. “I thought the base was under attack, I would have injured you.”

“Pretty sure you did injure my ribs.” He rubbed at them, wincing. “And what exactly happened to said base?”

She rolled her eyes. “It’s temporary, at least until my father arrives with his warrant to search the place. Now stop dodging, Tommy. What were you doing down here?”

“I…” Now that he was stood here, with someone in his life knowing, he found himself incredibly embarrassed.

“Thea told me about the break-in, so you may as well answer that, too, while you’re at it.”

“The files I got from Mrs. Queen’s computer,” Tommy admitted. “I needed to borrow Oliver’s tech to decrypt them.”

Laurel kept her arms crossed, but she looked less pissed when she asked, “What files?”

“I don’t know specifically what’s on them yet, but I know they’re about something called the Undertaking. And they have to do with the Glades.”

“And how did you know to look for them, Tommy? How did you decide to be a vigilante when you made it pretty clear you disapproved of what Oliver was doing?”

“That’s not what I — I’m not interested in being part of this, okay?” He said, waving an arm around to encompass what would’ve been the base on any other evening. “I just want to know what my father is up to. And Mrs. Queen, because she- she—” He couldn’t bring himself to say it. He still didn’t want to believe it.

Laurel finished for him. “She was in on the hit.”

Tommy stared at her. “You know? Oliver knows?” He didn’t know how Queen Manor could still be standing.

“Yes. And he’s not quite ready to address that with her. But that still doesn’t explain why you’ve been going around in a cheap-looking suit and...are those pantyhose?”

He shoved them into his pocket. “I made do.”

Laurel rolled her eyes. “I hope you washed them.”

“What am I, sixteen?”

The corner of her mouth quirked up, threatening a yes, but instead she said, “I don’t know why you thought you needed to sneak in here to use Oliver’s computers when you could’ve just asked him.”

“Because,” Tommy said. He looked down at the ground, knowing Laurel wasn’t going to like this. “Whatever information is on here probably isn’t gonna put his mom or my dad in a good light. And I was worried about — he could go all crazy murderer on them, Laurel. And how could any of us stop him?”

It was so quiet, he wouldn’t have been surprised if she’d simply vanished into thin air. When at last she spoke, her tone was clipped. “Ollie isn’t crazy, Tommy.”

“You know what I mean.”

“No, I really don’t. Has he done bad things? Things that go against legality, against your and my sense of morals? Yes. But for so long he has had only himself to rely on in order to survive out on that island. That changes a person.”

“But he’s not on the island, Laurel! He’s in civilization.”

“And it’s not just a switch he can turn on and off! That is not remotely how trauma works.”

He squeezed his eyes shut, breathing in and out for a few moments. “How do you live with it, though? You know it’s wrong.”

When he looked up, her expression was completely sincere. Gone was the bitter, hardened woman of the last five years. “Because the only way he’s going to move past all of that is if we can help him, Tommy. If we help him see how.”

Somehow, impossibly, because a killer had come to their city, Laurel had found her hope again.

“He’s stopped since you joined up with the two of them, hasn’t he?” Tommy didn’t wait for her answer before asking, “What happens when you being there isn’t enough to keep him from resorting to his old methods?”

“It could happen. It probably will happen. But he won’t be alone.”

His eyes widened. “Don’t tell me you’re going out there.”

“Can you really judge, Tommy? Or what should I call your masked persona?”

“It’s not a — look, as soon as this thing with my father is settled, I’m hanging it up, alright? But you’re not gonna do that.”

She shook her head. “There’s a lot more wrong with this city than just Malcolm Merlyn.”

“And a lot more wrong with the world, I’ll bet.” Once she got going, Laurel never just quit, after all. He sighed. “Well, we can at least get started on saving it from this Undertaking.” Tommy withdrew the flash drive and held it out. “Where does this get plugged in?”

“Actually, if it’s encrypted, that’s going to need to go to someone else. A friend of sorts Oliver made at his family’s company.”

Tommy looked at her flatly. “You want a Queen Consolidated employee to look over some files I stole from their CEO.”

Laurel shrugged. “Well, she hasn’t turned Oliver in yet.”

Maybe he should’ve just turned the damn thing over to McKenna. As soon as he thought that, he dismissed it. He still wanted to know what was on here, and this was his only way of making sure that happened.

Tommy placed the flash drive in Laurel’s palm. “I guess I’ll let you get back to your redecorating.”

“Oliver should be back soon. He only went to check on a lead for the Vertigo case,” Laurel told him. “I think you two should really talk.”

“No, I...I still have a lot to think about before I do that.” He hesitated before making his next request. “Actually — can you not tell Ollie this came from me? At least not yet.”

She frowned. “Why not?”

“I just want things to go back to normal once all of this is over, Laurel. If Oliver knows I’m getting involved in all this, he might think I want to be down here strategizing how to do a B&E on the next corporate mogul. That’s just not me.” He managed a grin, a little more wobbly than roguish. “I’m just Tommy Merlyn, the trust fund brat and childhood buddy. You know?”

“I don’t think you’re giving yourself enough credit,” she told him. “But if I can’t say this flash drive came from Tommy, what can I say?”

“I don’t know. I told McKenna I was just a guy with a lot of questions. Feel free to use that.”

He turned and started walking towards the back door. Laurel’s voice gave him pause.

“You should really invest in some self defense classes, you know. I’m not even an official vigilante, and I can already kick your ass.”

“Only if this became my night job.” And he doubted that would happen.

—-

Oliver felt sick to his stomach yet couldn’t be happier. He’d been saved by a hero tonight. A hero in a motorcycle helmet.

Not exactly the mask they’d discussed, but it was a start. He was sure the three of them could make some kind of compromise out of this, one that allowed Digg his anonymity while letting him feel comfortable and safe at the same time.

Without his timely interference, Oliver would have surely been killed by Dr. Webb and his orderly cohort. As it was, the pair of them were no more, and their supply of Vertigo would be off the streets.

Laurel rushed to his side the minute they got down to the base. “What happened?”

“They tried to force an overdose on him, but he got the antidote in time,” John explained for him, as Oliver was rather content to simply rest his forehead on Laurel’s shoulder.

“They?”

“It’s not a problem anymore,” Oliver groaned. He felt Laurel’s hand skimming his back pause for just the slightest second and winced. “I- I wasn’t trying to.”

“They saw his face after they got the drop on him,” Digg added quietly.

“Then next time we don’t send you out alone. Buddy system the whole time.”

He felt himself being moved and had to shut his eyes to keep the world from spinning violently. Then it tipped over as he was placed onto the bed in the base.

“—not sure how they spotted him.”

“Probably all the green. The new suits will be black, okay, Ollie?”

“I’m keeping my hood,” he protested. He couldn’t imagine giving up Shado and Yao Fei’s hood after everything they’d taught him.

A cool hand pressed to his forehead before combing through his hair in a very soothing gesture. “Alright. You can be the target to draw out all the criminals. But John and I want black.”

“Yes, dear,” he mumbled, already halfway to sleep.

“—there’s something...tell him tomorrow,” someone was saying, and then it was tomorrow and Oliver was blinking himself awake.

His stomach had mostly settled though his throat still felt raw from when he’d had to expel the Vertigo from his system.

The sounds of fists hitting the punching bag had him rising and pushing back the curtain Laurel had hung up around their bed. He found John taking a turn at the mat which had miraculously returned to its proper place overnight. His friend looked up.

“Morning.”

“Morning. Laurel go to work?”

John nodded. “You had a visitor last night.”

“I did?”

“Her father with the warrant. He bought that you’ve been using this space as a secret apartment, though he’s not exactly happy about his daughter living in the Glades.”

Oliver absorbed this quietly for a few minutes. It didn’t used to be considered shameful to live in this neighborhood. It had been a place to raise a family same as anywhere else. Why had that changed?

“He didn’t think it was strange I was passed out during his inspection?”

“We told him you’d had a bit too much to drink and Laurel had sent you to bed,” John admitted. Oliver grimaced. He really was going to get nowhere as far as his reputation went with Lance. But he’d known that was a lost cause ages ago.

“John, I don’t remember if I said last night, but thank you.”

His friend looked rather pleased with himself, though Oliver doubted he would admit it out loud, and then schooled his features again. “We gotta pay the IT Department at Queen Consolidated another visit.”

Oliver raised both eyebrows. “Oh?”

John left the mat and picked up a flash drive Oliver hadn’t noticed before sitting by the computer. “Laurel was given this yesterday while we were out.”

“By who?”

“Laurel said he didn’t want to be identified. But he’s the same guy who stole what’s on here from your mother.”

Oliver’s gaze zeroed in on the drive. If that was true, they could have all the answers they’d been looking for sitting right in their laps.

“It’s encrypted?”

Digg nodded.

“Give me five minutes to get ready.”

In three, they were in the car and on their way to Queen Consolidated. Oliver’s leg kept bouncing as he sat watching the scenery go by. This was it. His father’s mission. The whole reason his life and the lives of everyone he cared about had changed so drastically five years ago.

They found Felicity at her desk the same as usual, though she gave a visible start when she caught sight of them. “Oh! Sorry, it’s been a while, and after I told your girlfriend I knew I wasn’t sure if—”

“I need your help,” Oliver said, cutting right to the chase. It was rude, but time was of the essence. “Can you decrypt what’s on this flash drive?”

She looked at it. “Should be simple enough. What did you need it for? Or should I not know? Plausible deniability and all that — although if I read the files after decrypting them then I’ll probably know so that’s kind of not an option.”

“The truth is we’re not entirely sure what’s on there,” John answered. “But it’s important.”

“Okay,” Felicity said, drawing out the word. “I will get right on that.”

“Not on a company computer,” Oliver cautioned, as it looked like she was about to plug it right in. “Just trust me.”

“Right. Then I will have it for you by tonight.”

“Great. Thank you, Felicity.”

They left the office, and Oliver spent the next several hours training. He couldn’t think about much of anything, so the routine of muscle memory was all he could follow.

Somehow a part of him just didn’t feel ready. After being in the dark for so long it was startling to know the answer was within his reach.

“And this guy wants to know what’s on the drive, too?” Oliver asked Digg not for the first time. “Why? What does he stand to gain?”

John shrugged. “All Laurel told me was he said he had questions.”

“Well, this guy can keep his questions as long as he stays anonymous.” Something about it was bugging him, like he should know who this was — but one question at a time.

“Laurel told me some more about that talk she had with Thea the other day,” John said, probably in an effort to distract him while they waited. “Your sister misses you, Oliver.”

He frowned, having no real comeback. His estrangement from his mother was unfairly punishing Thea as well, he knew that. But he knew maintaining an act for his sister would be harder than before. She’d have to realize something was wrong, and a part of him didn’t want to do that to her. She’d already had so much taken away at such a young age.

Then again, depending on what was found on their mother’s files, was he only delaying the inevitable?

He was startled early in the afternoon when his phone rang, and even more startled by the caller ID.

“Felicity?” Had something happened to the flash drive? Had someone found out?

“Oliver, hi. And sorry. It was just really bothering me, so I peeked. On my tablet, at lunch across the street, so don’t worry.”

“Felicity, just tell me what you found on it.”

“Okay, it’s just — it’s a lot,” she said before drawing a shaky breath. “And I think it’s why Walter was abducted.”

—-

Taylor wasn’t sure why he was here. Usually if his parents really had to go somewhere together, they hired him a babysitter so he could stay home. But there hadn’t been a babysitter in a while.

He could tell his mom and dad were upset about something. His dad spent a lot of time at their kitchen table looking over papers with lots of lines and numbers, and his mom didn’t let him have as many treats when they went out to the stores anymore. They always told him things were going to be fine, but Taylor didn’t know whether to believe them.

Today, they got off a bus and walked up the steps of a red brick building Taylor had never seen before. There were lots of people moving around desks piled high with papers, and his mom and dad led him back to a desk where a pretty lady with brown hair sat.

“Miss Lance?” His dad asked.

“Yes, that’s me.”

“We phoned you earlier about meeting to discuss our case?” His mom had her hands on his shoulders, so Taylor couldn’t hide behind her. The lady seemed nice, though.

But there was something sad in the corners of her smile. “Against Edward Rasmus, yes.” She looked at him, then, her eyes softening. “Are you Taylor?”

He nodded shyly.

The lady got up and shook hands with both his parents and bent down to shake Taylor’s hand, too. “I’m Laurel, and I will be very happy to represent your family.”

Taylor didn’t know whether to believe her either.

[dkronpa]

Chapter 2: Lost in Sacrificial Fate ~Post-trial~

And finally the finale of chapter 2, I’ll have to write out the whole plot for chapter 3 since I only have a very basic idea of what’s going to happen. So, it’ll probably be a while until that comes out, so until then hopefully you enjoy!

“Wow wow! Nicely done! The one who killed Sadao Irunami is indeed the Ultimate Illusionist, Tomoe Hachi!” Monokuma announced. So…we were right again.

 “Ah geez, this is totally embarrassing! I’ve never had the secrets of my illusions figured out, but then again none of my past tricks have ever involved a murder. Suppose that’s probably the deciding factor, huh?” Hachi-san laughed emptily.

 “Oi…what the hell are you laughin’ about?! You got a lot of explaining to do!” Okanaya-san yelled. “The fuck is this about, huh?! You killed someone who was supposed to be your best friend…so why the fuck…?”

 “Sorry, I know it’s hard to grasp for you all…but, I knew I had to take matters into my own hands.” They smiled weakly. “Yeah…’I want everyone to escape this killing game, without dying’…that was gonna be my wish.”

 H…huh?

 “H-Hachi-san…th-then we-“ Kurohiko-san looked ready to cry, “W-we could’ve ended this whole thing…”

 “Don’t worry too much about it. I get why you all voted the way you did. Maybe…I’m a little happy you did too…even though I wanted to save everyone, I still killed my closest friend. What kind of person am I anyway?” Hachi-san laughed bitterly.

 “You said that you had to take matters into your own hands? What does that mean?” Sly-san asked.

 “It was the motive, y’know? I figured the only people that could make a wish that wouldn’t end badly were myself, Kurosaki-kun and Irunami-kun. I knew that neither of them would resort to killing though, so I needed to do something about it myself. After all, I was worried that someone might mis-speak during their wish and still get everyone killed.” Hachi-san explained. Oddly enough, this was the calmest I had ever seen them.

 “So, you really did all of this for us…” Okanaya-san spoke through gritted teeth. “Motherfucker…we were this close, huh…?”

 “Though…I almost couldn’t go through with it. Even though I set everything up, when I went into Irunami-kun’s dressing room I just…froze up. Not because I knew what I was doing was wrong or anything…but I saw Irunami-kun’s face in the mirror.”

 Yeah, I forgot about that…the giant mirror in Irunami-san’s dressing room. Even if Hachi-san was silent, Irunami-san should’ve seen Hachi-san before they struck.

 “Irunami-kun…h-he was smiling at me. I had the spotlight raised over my head and he smiled at me, knowing what I was gonna do.”

 -Flashback: Moment of the murder-

 “Wh…why? Why are you making that face? Don’t you get what’s about to happen?” Hachi-san asked. “Stop smiling like that! I’m about to kill you!”

 “I know, dummy.” Irunami-san laughed, turning to Hachi-san. “I don’t mind. If it means everybody else is gonna be able to live, then I don’t mind having to be that sacrifice. There are so many good people here, including you. So…don’t hesitate, okay?”

 “How can you say that? How can you call me good? How can you be okay with dying?”

 “Ha-chan, you’re so silly.” Irunami-san pet their head. “I…don’t have anything to live for. I’m not really useful for anything, so I’m better off just becoming the sacrifice that saves everyone, don’t you think?”

 “Irunami-kun…that’s so sad.”

 “But it’s the truth.” Irunami-san turned back to face the mirror. “Everyone else here is so talented. I can’t keep up with them, y’know? I finally make friends, but I feel so out of place when I’m with them…it feels like I’m unworthy of being in their presence. So, if it’ll save them…then it’s fine. Close your eyes, count to three and swing. I won’t move.” Irunami-san smiled brightly. “After all…you’re my best friend, Ha-chan.”

 “I…Irunami-kun…gh!” Hachi-san fought back their emotions and raised the spotlight back up.

 -End of Flashback: Trial Grounds-

 “Irunami-san knew he was going to die, and he still just took it?!” I can’t even believe that. Were those Irunami-san’s true feelings about himself? Did he really feel so unworthy of being in our group that he just saw himself as an extra body that could be exploited?!

 “I know…I couldn’t believe it either. That guy was always full of surprises, and he’d been acting weird since the motive reveal. But that moment, I think I really understood Irunami-kun.” Hachi-san said. “I…just never expected him and I to be so similar.”

 “Huh?” I questioned.

 “Irunami-kun was right. Everyone here is so talented, it’s unbelievable. Half of the line-up for the talent show…you guys don’t even have talents relating to entertaining people, and yet you were holding your own against me. I’m supposed to be the Ultimate Illusionist…so why do I feel so low around everyone?” Hachi-san sighed. “Having to watch everyone during rehearsals…that was the moment I decided I had to be the one to do it.”

 “The talent show…made you kill?” Shinko-san’s eyes widened.

 “You don’t get it…none of you get what it’s like to be in my position! I have to stand there and smile the whole time and act like my talent fits in so well among the rest of you! Irunami-kun was an amazing entertainer, so why did I get put into a group with him?! Why did he of all people feel so unworthy when I should be the one that felt unworthy?!”

 “H-Hachi-san…” Yokozawa-san looked for the right words to say, though his mind seemed to be failing him.

 “Irunami probably figured you would feel that way.” Sly-san said. “He was a lot smarter than he ever let on. He let himself become the victim so that, even though you felt inferior to him, you didn’t have to sacrifice your life.”

 “But that’s exactly what’s happened. We’ve wasted both of their sacrifices…!” Ram-san shook her head. “You should have never felt inferior around us! Hachi-san, you’re an amazing entertainer, the fact that you’re an Ultimate is proof enough of that!”

 “Sorry, Ram-chan…I’m afraid my problems aren’t so easily fixed with words…it’s kind of a relief though. I don’t have to think about trusting or doubting anyone now…even though I’m gonna die, I wonder why I don’t feel nervous? It’s weird.”

 “You can’t be okay with this…c’mon! You still got some tricks up your sleeve, right!? You can still run away from all this!” Kurohiko-san pleaded. Hachi-san just let out another bitter laugh.

 “No…this is okay…” One of their hands reached up towards their mask and slowly removed it from its place. Their emerald eyes looked so sad as they stared at the mask. “I don’t have any tricks to hide behind now…so I won’t be needing this.”

 “…dammit.” This is my fault. If I hadn’t convinced everyone to vote for Hachi-san, we could’ve ended this killing game…

 “It’s okay Nagata-kun. You did what you thought was right, nobody should hold that against you. Besides, I kind of brought this upon myself, didn’t I? So…it’s okay.” Hachi-san nodded. “Monokuma?”

 “Yep! You got it! Let’s get on with the main show.” Monokuma hopped up.

 “…do you think Irunami-kun can hear me right now? He must be pretty peeved off at me for not ending this killing game. He’d probably say something like ‘aw geez! I was reaaaaaaaaally rooting for you!’…”

 “I’ve prepared a very special punishment for the Ultimate Illusionist, Tomoe Hachi!”

 “Yeah, Irunami-kun must’ve really been wishing for a happy ending. I just wish I could’ve made it come true. That I could’ve been more useful to everyone. Be more than a crappy title.”

 “Let’s the give it everything we’ve got! IIIIIIIIIIIIIIT’S PUNISHMENT TIME!!!!!!!”

 “Irunami-kun! I’ll go out with one final bang! Worthy of the Ultimate Illusionist!” Hachi-san gave a winning smile and wink.

 -Game Over- -Tomoe Hachi has been found Guilty!- -Commencing Execution-

 When the monitor switched on after Hachi-san was dragged away, we were shown Hachi-san dressed in a straitjacket, hanging upside-down. They were on a stage in front of a large crowd of Monokumas.

 -Tomoe Hachi’s Execution: The Final Curtain Call-

 A large clock appeared above Hachi-san showing a countdown of thirty seconds. At either side, there were two giant logs positioned to swing towards each other, meeting where Hachi-san was hanging. The buzzer on the clock sounded and Hachi-san began to worm around in the straitjacket, looking for anything that could be a key or something to get them out of it.

 At 20 seconds, one arm came off and at 15, the other came off and Hachi-san quickly began searching for the key to the lock around their ankles. They began patting themselves down as the clock slowly ticked closer and closer.

 There were only a few seconds left when they pulled something from their pocket, it was a small silver key though just as Hachi-san went to insert it into the lock, the key missed the lock and slipped from Hachi-san’s grip. It was a slow-motion moment watching Hachi-san’s confused face watch the key fall past them as the buzzer for the logs went off.

 The camera shook and pointed downwards towards the stage. All we got to see…was the key on the stage with blood dripping onto it…

-

It was so silent. I couldn’t even think about crying. All I could think about was how angry I was at myself for not trusting in Hachi-san. If I could’ve just believed in them then we all wouldn’t have been forced to watch that happen.

 “Nagata-kun…” Ram-san put a shaky hand on my back in an attempt to comfort me.

 “Man…you really can’t trust people here, huh?” Graves-san murmured. “Even though they were friends…”

 “Yeah, if Hachi-san could kill Irunami-kun like that, what are we supposed to believe in, huh?” Yokozawa-san crossed his arms.

 “Tch! What the fuck is all this? So much for working together then…I guess it really is every man for himself. A real free-for-all.” Shinko-san cracked his knuckles. “Fuck this. I’m not staying around here any longer. I don’t wanna get killed by any of you bastards.” He turned and quickly headed for the elevator.

 “Hachi-sama wished to end the killing game, however they ended up making our situation worse…how unfortunate. I just hope they will be able to rest in peace memento mori…” Ishikawa-san whispered the last part of the sentence.

 Yeah…Hachi-san wanted to make things better, but because of me, everything didn’t only just continue, things got even worse…

 -Chapter 2, Post Trial, Ryuu-

 I just laid on top of my bed staring blankly at the wall. There was no way I could sleep with everything that just happened. Hachi-san’s words. Irunami-san’s willingness to sacrifice himself. The killing game not ending because of me…

 “I’m sorry everyone…it’s my fault we’re still here…” I said to nobody.

 “Yikes bub! You couldn’t look any lower if you tried!” I sat up in surprise to find Monokuma waltzing around my room. “I get that you feel crappy but geez, total loser-ville around here.”

 “Get out of my room!” I said.

 “And zero hospitality for your favourite bear…kids these days really got no respect. Though I suppose I don’t blame you for feeling bad. If you weren’t in this killing game, then everyone would’ve probably voted in order to end the game.” Monokuma put his paws over his mouth, suppressing a laugh.

 “What do you want?”

 “I just wanna talk-“

 “No. What do you want? From this killing game? Why are you so obsessed with all of this?” I asked the question but something in the back of my mind made me feel apprehensive for the answer. What’s with me?

 “…it’s way to early to give you hints about that. We need to get a lot deeper into the killing game before I can even think about giving you hints to that. But, geez…you poor Ultimates. Poor Ultimates.” Monokuma chortled. “I can’t wait to see what’ll happen next!” And with that Monokuma vanished in the blink of an eye.

 -Chapter 2 Post Trial, Yuuki-

 “You knew about what was going to happen, didn’t you?” Sly asked. “It’s way too suspicious, how you seem to know the full picture even at the very start of the investigation. But then that begs the question: why would you let everyone do the class trial like that if you already know the answer?”

 Yuuki stayed quiet.

 “Say something, would you? You’re staring is gross.”

 “Ah, I can finally speak. I’ve been waiting ever since Herr Okanaya told me to shut up.” Yuuki let out a sigh of relief. “Thank you, Herr Knives~ I didn’t realise you liked talking to me so much!”

 “I’ll be telling you to shut up again once we’re done.” Sly’s eyes narrows in annoyance. “Now, answer my question.”

 “You’re a very assuming person, y’know? Do you really think that if I knew that a murder was going to take place, I would just let it? I’m not so cruel, y’know. What happened with Irunami-chan and Hachi-chan is unfortunate, but I didn’t know it was going to happen.” Yuuki insisted.

 “Then what about knowing the answer so quickly? You take control of the class trials when it suits you, otherwise you let the rest of us do the work.”

 “Correction; I let Nagata-kyun do all the work. He’s the only one that really puts anything together. The more mysteries he solves, the bigger a target he’ll become so it’s really problematic for him.”

 “Then why Nagata?”

 Yuuki thought for a few moments before smiling lightly. “I suppose it’s because…Nagata-kyun is someone we can trust. Though I do worry about his self-image, especially after this trial. He might faulter sooner or later if he doubts himself. So, we should be there to help him.”

 “What are we to you? Supporting characters?”

 “Hardly. We’re all protagonists. Just all with different roles to play. Let’s make sure to play that roll in this story when the time comes.” Yuuki smiled.

 “…I’m not a character in your story.” Sly said before walking off. Yuuki smiled as he watched the assassin leave.

 “Ah…he forgot to tell me to shut up.”

 -Chapter 2: Lost in Sacrificial Fate END-

12 Students Remain

[allthingsfangirl101]

I Remember You. . . I Think

Part 15: The Truth Comes Out

Dylan's POV

His name was Henry Muntz.

Henry Muntz is responsible for kidnapping my Katie. He is responsible for hurting her. He is responsible for the nightmares that ruin her sleep. I can tell what time she falls asleep because an hour and a half later, she calls me in tears.

Much like tonight.

I jumped when I heard my phone ring. I was fully awake when I heard Katie's special ringtone echo off my walls. I almost fell off my bed as I reached for my phone.

"Katie? What's wrong baby?" The second I answered the phone, I heard her soft sobs.

"I'm. . . I'm sorry for calling. I just. . ."

"You don't have to apologize, Katie." I interrupted as I slipped on my shoes. "I like when you call me. It lets me take care of my girl."

"I'm scared, Dylan."

Her shaky voice made me freeze on the staircase. I pulled my phone away from my ear, clutching it tightly in my hand as I took a deep breath. When I put the phone back to my ear, I heard her trying to stop the tears that seemed to always fall.

"Listen to me, Katie. Everything is going to be okay. I'm on my way, right now. Was it the nightmare?"

"Yes." I bit the inside of my cheek, forcing myself to calm down.

"I'm on my way, okay? You're alright. I promise, I am never going to let anything happen to you. Never again." After a few seconds of silence I added, "Katie?"

"Yes, Dylan?"

"You know I love you, right?" A smile finally formed on my lips as I heard her let out a small, lighthearted giggle.

"I know. You tell me that everyday, Dylan."

"Because I never want you to forget it."

"Trust me, I never could."

I pulled up to Katie's house and saw that her bedroom light was on. I looked at the clock on my dash to see it was a little after 2am. Sighing, I turned off my ignition and got out of my car. Before I could even get to the porch, the front door swung opened, revealing Katie in pajama shorts and a tank top. Her eyes were red and puffy from crying and I could see the tear streaks on her red cheeks. She ran down the steps and jumped into my arms. Her arms wrapped tightly around my neck while she cried softly on my shoulder.

"Lets get you inside," I said pressing my lips to the top of her head. I felt her nod against me before I led us back inside. Once we had stepped inside, I softly closed the front door.

I looked up to see Mrs. Montgomery clutching onto her bath robe with a worried expression on her face. She relaxed when she saw her daughter was safely in my arms. She watched as I led Katie upstairs with a smile on her face. "Thank you," she mouthed as we passed her. I sent her a reassuring smile and a nod as I led Katie to her room. Before closing the door, I turned to make sure that Mrs. Montgomery was going back to bed.

I leaned against the closed door with Katie still in my arms. I looked down at her and took in her features. She slowly looked up at me. "Hi," I whispered, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear.

"Hi," she whispered back. I put my hand under her chin and brought my lips down to hers. I felt myself relax as she smiled into the kiss. She was the first to pull away.

"Do you want to watch a movie or Netflix or something?" She nodded in response. I sat on her bed as she walked to her desk and grabbed her computer. She sat next to me, opened her laptop and logged onto Netflix. After a few episodes of Friends, I felt Katie's breathing slow. I looked down to see her sleeping on my chest. Even in the moonlight I could see the bags under her eyes.

Suddenly, she started to whimper. She twitched a little making me realize she was having another nightmare. I pulled her tighter into my chest. "Katie, you're okay. I promise. You're safe. I'm here." As I continued to rub circles on her back, she slowly started to calm down. It took me a while to fall asleep after Katie had 4 almost-nightmares.

I woke up a few hours later to the sun shining through the window. I looked down at Katie in my arms and smiled. The sun shined making her look like she was glowing. She began to stir and her eyes fluttered open. "I thought you coming over last night was a dream." She giggled cuddling deeper into my chest.

"Good morning to you too." I laughed, leaning down and kissing her forehead.

"I don't want to get up, because if I get up that means I have to go and face him." She whispered into my chest. I sighed, knowing what she was talking about.

Today was the day of the trial. Today, Katie would face the man who kidnapped her and took her away from her home for two years. She is going to have to go on the stand and tell the jury what he did to her and I was anxious for her. Just thinking about having to sit in the same room and face the man who took my Katie away from me, made me furious.

"I'm scared, Dylan."

"I know you are, honey. I am going to be there the whole time. And after today, we will never have to see him again. You and I will run away and start our life together."

"I'd like that," she said smiling up at me. I leaned down and pressed my lips to hers. As the kiss deepened, I rolled her over so I was on top of her. I started kissing her neck and I heard her moan when I sucked on her sweet spot. I pulled away and pressed my forehead to hers.

"We should probably get up and start getting ready." She whispered. I nodded before sitting up, bringing her with me.

"I got to go, but I will meet you at the courthouse. I promise." I pressed my lips to her. This kiss was different. It was soft and sweet. It wasn't full of lust, it was full of love.

"I love you," she whispered.

"I love you too."

*****

"Dude, you gotta stop." Mason said, gesturing towards my leg. We were currently sitting on the bench outside the courtroom waiting for Katie and her parents to walk in.

"Remind me again why we are 45 minutes early?" Mason sighed, running his hands through his hair.

"Because Katie is suppose to be here half an hour early and I wanted to make sure I was here when she got here." I said drumming my fingers on my knee.

"Dylan, you've got to relax. There is no way in hell that he is going to be considered not guilty. He is going to get what he deserves and you and Katie can live happily ever after."

"It's not going to be happily ever after, Mason." I sighed putting my head in my hands.

"What do you mean? You are finally with Katie."

"I meant, it's not going to be like I thought it would." He looked at me confused. "Mas, did you know she has nightmares?"

His eyes widened. "Are you serious?"

"I wish I wasn't. She has them every night."

"Them? As in more than one?"

"She has one about every two hours. I've told her to call me after the first but. . . She usually calls me after the third or fourth. What if they never go away? What if she gets sick because she hasn't had a full nights rest? What if she doesn't sleep the rest of her life and it is all his fault?" I asked, getting angry at the thought.

"I'm sure overtime the nightmares will stop. Other things will happen in her life like college, work, marriage, babies, that will help her move on from this."

"What if she never moves on?" I stood up and started pacing. "Mas, he had her for two years! Who knows what the hell that jackass did to our Katie, to my Katie!" Mason jumped up, but before he could say anything Katie and her parents walked through the door.

When she saw Mason and I, she looked at her parents before running towards me and wrapping me in a hug. "Told you I would see you later." I whispered into her ear making her laugh softly.

"Hi Mason," Katie said softly, giving him a hug.

"Hey, Katie-Kat."

She groaned as they pulled apart. "You're still calling me that?"

"It would feel weird not too," Mason shrugged. We sat down, no one knowing what to say. After about 25 minutes, we heard someone call Katie over.

"Katie?" We looked up to see Katie's lawyer walk up to us. He shook her father's and mother's hands while Mason, Katie, and I stood there awkwardly. "They are ready for you." I looked at Katie to see all the color drain from her face. I reached over to intertwine our hands and kissed her cheek.

He must've seen it too because his voice instantly changed. "Listen to me, Katie. I know you are scared. I understand why. This is a very serious, very scary situation. For anyone. Especially for someone who went through what you did that past two years. People might think that this isn't as big of a deal because you aren't a minor, but it is. I know the judge. She is a feminist so she'll like you."

"I... I don't want to testify against him." She said shakily.

Her lawyer sighed. "I wish you didn't have to Katie, but he isn't allowed to be called onto the stand and there weren't any witness that saw everything. You are the only one testifying, sweetheart." The lawyer said looking at her sadly.

"What? I thought you were calling Dylan onto the stand?" Mason asked looking between the lawyer and me.

"Well," he paused to clear his throat. "Katie's testimony will be the strongest so I decided not to call on anybody else. We are just trying to get through this case as fast as possible."

There was an awkward silence. "Excuse me? Miss Montgomery?" We turned to see the bailiff walked out of the court room. "Everyone is waiting on you. We can't bring in the defendant until you, your family, and friends are seated in the courtroom."

Silently, we followed the bailiff into the courtroom. Mason and I sat with Katie's parents directly behind her as she sat with her lawyer. We stood as the judge entered the courthouse. The room was quiet as he walked in.

Mason and I looked at each other before looking over at a nervous Katie. She was playing with her hands in her lap, not looking up. The judged cleared her throat making Katie jump and look up. "This is the case of Montgomery versus Henry Muntz. Mr. Muntz is being convicted for kidnapping and abusing Miss Katie Montgomery. How do you plea?"

Henry Muntz's lawyer stood up and buttoned his suit before clearing his throat. "Not guilty, your honor." I bit my tongue to keep myself from scoffing.

"Noted. Mr. Jesse," the judged said motioning towards Katie's lawyer. "You may call your first witness."

"My first, and only witness, is Miss Katie Montgomery." Katie slowly stood up and looked over her shoulder at her parents and use before walking onto the stand. She put her hand on the bible and swore to tell the truth and quietly sat down on the stand.

"Miss Montgomery, can you tell me what you were doing the day before you were kidnapped?"

Katie looked at her lawyer, then at me, then back to her lawyer. "I ummm It was my 18th birthday. My best friend had planned a surprise party for me." She smiled softly at me.

"This was the day before you got kidnapped?" Mr. Jesse asked to clarify.

"Yes," Katie nodded.

"Can you tell me about the night you went missing and how it all happened?" There was a silence before Katie answered.

"It was a long weekend so some friends and I decided to go camping. It was about 10 or 11 when we decided to play a game."

"What was the game, Katie?" Her lawyer interrupted her.

"Umm, Cops and Robbers," Katie said with red cheeks. The judged smiled at her response.

"What happened next, Katie?"

"Well, we were running around and suddenly I lost track of the other people in my group. I went back to the campsite, but no one was there so I went back and retraced our steps. I guess I went the wrong way because I didn't recognize anything. I started to get scared so I called out, but no one answered. I heard a twig snap so I went towards it, thinking it was one of my friends. It wasn't." She paused, taking a deep breath. The whole courtroom was so quiet I finally understood the saying, "so quiet you could hear a pin drop".

"Who was it, Katie?" Mr. Jesse asked, walking towards her.

Katie took a shaky breath. "It was a man. He was tall and covered in dirt."

"What is his name?"

"I... I didn't know his name. He... He wouldn't tell me." I could tell from across the room that she was shaking.

"Katie, is that man in this room?" Katie nodded. "Can you point him out?"

Katie looked up at me, fear in her eyes. I sent her a reassuring smile even though I knew it wouldn't do much. She slowly pointed towards Henry Muntz.

"Please take note that Miss Montgomery is pointing at Mr. Henry Muntz. Now, Katie, where did he take you?"

"Well, I asked him if he had seen any other kids my age running around, but he didn't say anything. He just stared at me with his dark eyes. I tried to turn and walk away, but he grabbed me from behind. He covered my mouth with a clothe and the next thing I new I was lying on a dirty mattress on the floor. I didn't know where I was. Nothing looked familiar and I couldn't see any lights."

"Miss Katie, did Henry Muntz ever hurt you?"

She bit her lip and nodded. "I'm so sorry Katie, but I need you to say yes or no."

"Yes," she said so softly I was afraid he didn't hear her and would ask her again.

"What did he do to you?"

"He would... Whenever I tried to leave, he would. . . He would hit me and... and sometimes he threw things at me....or or he would throw me down the basement stairs." I looked to see the jury's eyes grow wide. "After he would beat me, he would force me to drink this weird clear liquid and I would get really drowsy. I would wake up a few hours later, on the mattress....... naked."

I formed my hands into fists, resisting the urge to jump up and attack Henry Muntz.

"Wait, Miss Katie. Did. . . Are you saying, that man, Mr. Henry Muntz, sexually abused you?"

The courtroom was silent as she nodded. She quickly whispered out, "Yes."

Katie's lawyer cleared his throat before continuing. "How long did these beatings occur?"

"Everyday," she answered softly.

"The day you were found, you had showed up at the sheriff's station. How did you escape?"

"I left my room to find any scrap of food he may have left out and saw that he was asleep on the couch. When I noticed he was practically unconscious, I took the chance and ran."

"But he came back for you and kidnapped you a second time, correct?"

"Yes, I was only home for a couple of days before he came into my hospital room and grabbed me."

"Then what happened?"

"He took me back to the cabin and tied me up in the basement to keep me from escaping again."

"How long were you there?"

"Only. . . Only a couple of hours, maybe a day. I'm not sure. I. . . I lost track of time."

Mr. Jesse smiled as he walked over to her. "Just one last question, Katie." He said making her nod. "Can you tell us about the day you were rescued by a Mr. Dylan O'Brien?"

Katie looked up at me, and for the first time since she walked into the courtroom, smiled. "I heard footsteps above me and thought it was the man who took me. When I saw Dylan walking down the stairs I could've jumped for joy if I wasn't tied to the wall." She laughed softly making everyone in the courtroom except Henry Muntz laugh.

"I don't know how he found me," she continued looking at me. "But he did. He brought me home." Nobody missed the smile she sent me and the one I sent her.

"Thank you, Katie." Her lawyer said, making her look away from me. "You can take your seat. No further questions, your honor."

I watched as Katie slowly walked back to her seat. "We will take a fifteen minute break to allow the jury to discuss the proceedings." The judge said, banging her gavel.

I instantly stood up and jumped over the small wall separating Katie and I. "Dylan! I don't think you're suppose to..."

"I don't care," I said pressing my lips to hers. As we pulled apart, she tightly wrapped her arms around my neck and buried her head into the crook of my neck.

Fifteen minutes went by fast as we soon found ourselves waiting the jury's decision. "Has the jury come to a decision?" The judged asked.

A middle-aged woman stood up. "Yes, your honor."

"Very well," the judge nodded.

"With the charge of kidnapping in the first degree, we find the defendant guilty."

I didn't hear the sentencing the judge gave him because all I could focus on was Katie looking over her shoulder at me.

We watched as Henry Muntz was escorted out of the courthouse. After he was gone, Katie walked through the small wooden gate and gave her parents a hug. She turned towards me and smiled. I wrapped her in a tight hug.

"It's over," I whispered. "It's finally over."

[dragonagethistle]

Holy Shit - Chapter 6

It’s been literally months. I’m too ashamed to go look up when my last update was. I am so sorry. Thank you for sticking around!

Start from Ch 1 here

Read on AO3 here

The screeching of my car-alarm ringtone only served to make me squeeze my eyes shut tighter and shove my head under my pillow. I immediately regretted touching my house warming whisky the previous night. My mouth was full of cotton and my head positively pulsed at the temples. But I couldn't call out of work - not so soon after starting a new job. A job I needed to keep if I wanted to continue living here.

“Fucking fuck,” I grumbled as I reached out of bed to hit snooze. I was never a morning person, but occasionally cursing at the general concept of waking made me feel better.

For once though, I decided not to push the limits of how long I could stay in bed. A hangover could only be cured by greasy breakfast food and some form of potatoes and I knew I'd have to leave my place at least 15 minutes earlier than usual to swing by the McDonald's on my drive to work.

I picked my phone up off the floor, sat up straight, and turned off both my main and backup alarms. Having those continue to go off would only make me more grumpy than I already was in the mornings. My shoulders and neck were already stiff - evidently I had slept in a weird position last night, so I did my best to stretch them out as I got out of bed and made my way across the hall to my bathroom.

I froze as soon as I flipped the light on. My shower curtain was pulled to the side, revealing the wall of tile surrounding my shower. I always pulled the curtain closed when I was done. Why was it not…

“Jesus fucking Christ, Cullen!”

The door to my guest room was suddenly yanked open and seconds later Cullen appeared in the doorway to my bathroom, eyes wide and hair a mess of curls.

“What happened? Is everything alright?”

I must have resembled a fish the way my mouth hung open as I stared.

“Farrada?”

“You're real.”

“Yes?”

“I didn't dream you.”

Cullen relaxed visibly and chuckled at that. It was a rich, deep sound that positively made me shudder. “Does that happen often?”

“I - wait, no, but…” I suddenly became hyper aware that I wasn't wearing a bra and crossed my arms over my chest. But then I took another look at the man standing in front of me and noticed something that had at first escaped my sleep-addled mind.

“Cullen? You, ah… you're not wearing any pants.”

Cullen's expression turned again to one of shock as he looked down and realized I was right. He was clad only in a pair of black boxer briefs, and as hesitant as I was about the stranger in my home I suddenly wanted to run my hands over every inch of him. I settled for biting my lip, and a sudden pounding in my head reminded me of my hangover.

Cullen blushed and his hand flew to the back of his neck as mine flew to cover my face, blocking out the light along with the tempting figure in front of me.

“Maker's Breath, I didn't realize, I just heard you shout and… Farrada?” I felt a pang in my chest at the concern in his voice.

“Just a hangover, I'll be fine,” I tried my best to sound convincing as I pressed the heels of my palms into my eyes. “I need to get ready for work, and you should probably put on some clothes.”

“Right… I'll get right to that,” he replied.

As soon as I heard the door shut behind him I stepped back into the bathroom, turned on the cold water in my sink, and splashed it on my face. I always hated the sensation of water on my face but after seeing Cullen like… that, I could practically feel my cheeks burning. Cullen being here only complicated my morning. I had to get myself ready for work and make sure he had something to eat - that he would be ok alone in a completely alien world until I could get back. I glanced at my reflection, grimacing at the dark circles around my eyes. I shouldn’t have stayed up so late. But then I look further down and notice the light bruising on my neck from Cullen’s fingerprints.

“Fuck…” I brushed my fingertips along the marks, glad for the lack of pain at the touch. The bruises were light, but against my pale skin they were still noticeable.

I rushed through my morning routine, brushing my teeth and throwing my hair into a loose bun at the base of my neck just to get it out of the way. I took the simplest course of action to make sure Cullen would be fed: I threw some bread into my toaster and let that go while I changed. I hadn’t been at my new office for a full week yet, so I was trying to keep my tattoos hidden while my coworkers warmed up to me. Some opaque tights concealed the marks on my legs that would have otherwise been visible from beneath my black pencil skirt and my favorite, red sweater covered my video game sleeve. I used my white scarf decorated in foxes to hide the bruises on my neck and decided to call it good enough.

Cullen was silent through all of this. I barely heard a scuffle from the guest room as I slipped on my rings and my opal necklace. As if he had been waiting on me, the door to his room opened soon after mine. He kept his eyes down, a blush still on his face that I would have enjoyed had I more time. Instead I rushed back into my kitchen and grabbed my peanut butter and honey mix to make him a sandwich.

“I know you’re confused - I know this world is completely alien to you,” I called out to him as I spread the peanut butter over the freshly toasted bread, trying not to drool at the smell as it melted against the hot surface. “But I absolutely have to go to work, I’m sorry. I promise I’ll try to explain things tonight, and I’ll try to come back here on my lunch break to make sure you get food.”

“I am not a child,” Cullen responded, only slightly indignant. I hadn’t heard him approach the kitchen and nearly jumped when his voice sounded closer to me than I expected. “I am, in fact, capable of looking after myself.”

I sighed heavily. I knew this was nowhere near easy for him, but why the fuck did this have to happen on a work day? “In Thedas. You could look after yourself in Thedas,” I handed him the plate with his breakfast, and the hunger in his eyes betrayed him.

“Modern day earth is quite a bit different. Just… Let me get you caught up and you’ll be good to go. For now, I’m gonna worry. It’s what I do.” I pulled out my cell phone and checked the time - 7 minutes until I needed to be out the door.

“I’m sorry about the breakfast, I could do better if I had more time but I really need to go. Will you be ok?”

Cullen’s expression softened at my concern and he nodded. His brows furrowed as he noticed the scarf covering my neck. “I didn’t mean… are you alright?”

I moved the fabric enough that he could see the marks and flashed a smile. “This? This is nothing. I have worse than this from moving boxes.”

The crease in his brow remained. “When will you be back?”

I pointed to the display on my microwave, thankful I had already set up the clock. “I take lunch at 12 o’clock. I’ll be here a little after that and I’ll be done with work at 5. I normally get home by 5:20, ok?” God, I hope he gets this whole ‘time’ concept. Thedas doesn’t have clocks, does it?

Cullen simply nodded silently and bit into his peanut butter and honey sandwich. I felt a twist in my gut as I slipped on my flats and grabbed my purse. What if he’s not here when I get back? I tried to ignore the thought and instead pointed out my bookshelf for him.

“Feel free to browse through those or something while I’m gone. The top three shelves are all completely fictional but the second shelf from the bottom is my collection of history books, if you can call it that. I’ll be back.”

Cullen smiled at me, his scar jerking up with his lips. “I’ll be here.”

And with my heart in my throat, I left.

25 minutes later I walked into my building with my purse slung over one shoulder, McDonald’s bag and coke in one hand with my badge in the other. I had already finished my hash brown and between the crispy potatoes and sips of coke I had consumed on the drive, I was feeling better. Not perfect, but better. Between my terrible habit of speeding and a stroke of luck on the morning traffic, I had ten minutes to enjoy the rest of my breakfast before I had to log onto the phones.

Ten minutes alone with my thoughts.

Last night was a haze to me. I remembered unpacking after work but my shoulders gave out on me from the effort I had exerted throughout the week and so I had decided to take a break and drink instead. After all, one of my best friends from back home had sent me off with a bottle of her favorite whiskey. I remembered calling her once I got tipsy, laughing at nothing and catching her up on everything until she told me I needed to sober up. I made a cup of tea and then…

Cullen. I rested my forehead in one hand as I continued eating my breakfast.

Jesus Christ, Cullen is in my flat. What the actual fuck.

I tried to concentrate, but between the whiskey I had drunk before he arrived and the faint fuzz still clouding my head as the caffeine kicked in, nothing was definite. Nothing but the ache around my throat and a memory…

Cullen, hair dripping wet, covered in nothing but a towel and in my living room. My face felt hot as the memory suddenly hit me. That and the sight of him in nothing but those boxers this morning, even if I had hidden my face from him, there was still that bulge, no doubt a result of the early morning. Even though I had only had a glance before covering my eyes, the image of Cullen clad in nothing but black boxer shorts seemed seared into my mind. God, and what a sight it was...

“Morning! You’re here early!” a voice in the breakroom broke me out of my thoughts and I felt my cheeks grow even warmer. I tried to force a smile on my face.

“Decided to get breakfast on the way over,” I replied. “I’m sorry, I’m bad with names. What was yours again?”

“Chrysanthemum, but everyone just calls me Chrys,” she poured herself a cup of coffee as she spoke. I repeated the name in my head as I stared at the back of her head. She was the only person in the office with hair that was such a pale blond. It fell just past her shoulder in half curl, half waves. It had been the first thing I noticed about her. The second had been her smile - friendly and warm.

“Don’t feel bad, I only have one name to learn. You’ve got about 60.” She grabbed a cup of yogurt from the fridge and turned to me, breakfast in one hand and that reassuring smile shining bright. “You’ll get there. Happy Friday!”

I nodded and mumbled the sentiment in return before gathering my trash to deposit and finding my way to my cubicle.  The first half of my work day went by blessedly fast. I had less than a handful of phone calls and after the last few days, I was familiar enough with our database that I didn’t have to keep customers waiting while I found their records and their invoices. There was still a large stack of payments to process leftover from the sudden departure of whoever had held the job before me, but payments were my favorite part of the job.

Twelve o’clock snuck up on me and I barely had time to grab my purse and call out “going off site for lunch” to my boss before running down the stairs. He grunted an acknowledgement and that was good enough for me. I had a blonde (former) Templar to check up on.

I could feel my hands shaking as I approached my flat. I knew I should stop and take a moment to collect myself but I was on a time crunch and part of me frantically wondered if he was even still there. The building was still standing, so at least he hadn’t accidentally burned my new place down. Jesus, I really should have tried to explain more of this shit to him before just leaving him alone.

I tried to take a steadying breath as I slid my key into the lock and opened the door to my place, but I knew that with my heart racing and a million “what if’s” racing through my head, focusing on my damn breathing wouldn’t do a thing. In fact, in the past it had made my panic attacks worse. But as I opened the door to my flat I glanced across my living room to the open patio door and for a brief moment, I forgot how to breathe entirely.

Cullen stood on my balcony with his back to me, overlooking the tree-spotted city before him. Bellingham wasn’t a huge city by any means, but between the size and the technology that allowed us to move so much faster and reach so much higher, I could only imagine how Cullen felt staring at what must be an alien world to him.

Even with his back to me, he was beautiful. Part of me wanted to roll my eyes as the thought crossed my mind - how cliche - but it was true. The pale green sweater he wore stretched wonderfully across his well muscled back. His hair - so strictly maintained throughout his scenes in Dragon Age: Inquisition - was an unruly mess of curls that still just begged me to run my fingers through it, even as I felt the need to maintain my space. Physical attraction aside, the man was still a stranger. I couldn’t even be sure exactly which version of Thedas he had come from.

Cullen turned as he heard the door shut behind me. His hand flew to his neck and he started to move back inside. “I was starting to think it would never stop raining. I wanted to enjoy the sunshine.”

“No need to explain. What else are balconies for?” I set my bag and keys down in their usual spot and headed towards my kitchen as he came inside and closed the doors behind him. “Hungry? I’ve got leftovers I was planning on re-heating.”

Cullen nodded and I removed my leftover parmesan chicken from the fridge. I grabbed two plates as the food warmed up in my microwave and turned back to face him. He was standing in my living room, still looking uncomfortable. I couldn’t really blame him.

“How have you managed so far this morning? I know technology-wise we only really got to talk about the fire place and light switches last night.” Cullen watched with fascination as I pulled the now hot chicken from the microwave and plated each piece.

“Truth be told, without any soldiers to drill or recovering templars to look after, I went back to sleep,” Cullen admitted somewhat sheepishly. “I thought it might be best I touch as little as possible for fear of setting the apartment on fire.”

“Hey, there’s only one magic fire button in here,” I shot back with a smirk as I set his food on my coffee table, one of the few empty, solid surfaces in my apartment. Cullen settled onto my couch with his food and after a moment of hesitation, I chose to sit in my computer chair facing him with my plate on my lap. Maybe not a wonderful idea with a hot plate, but I didn’t want to sit on the couch next to him. I just hoped he didn't think I was being rude.

“So. You mentioned caring for recovering Templars, which answers part of the question I needed to ask you.”

Cullen quickly swallowed his mouthful before answering, “Which is?”

I hesitated, popping a bite of the re-heated chicken in my mouth as I stalled to collect my thoughts. “The game that I know you from… There are different outcomes depending on the choices the player makes and I need to know… What happened to you between Kinloch hold and Kirkwall?”

Cullen paused with his food halfway to his mouth, one brow raised in curiosity. “What do you mean?”

“I’m sorry, I know it’s personal and that’s not a time in your life you enjoy thinking about but,” I bit my cheek hard. Just ask the question. You need to know. “It never happened in any of my games, but there’s a possible outcome where you sort of go crazy and kill some innocent mages.”

Cullen’s eyes grew wide in what I assumed was genuine shock. I was never able to tell when someone was lying, but then Cullen never seemed like a talented liar in the games. “Never! Those blood mages may have tortured and imprisoned me and yes, I regret some of my actions in the years after, but I never took the life of an innocent mage!”

Maybe it was just the situation and the emotionally weighted question, but his response did unfortunately nothing to untie the knot weighing heavily in the pit of my stomach. Before I could respond my phone began to ring, and my boss’s name showed on the screen. Cullen gave a quizzical look at the device in my hands. “Shit, just a second,” I muttered towards him before answering the call.

“Hey, boss.”

“You didn’t leave anything at the office did you?”

“I don’t think so?” Anxiety fluttered in my chest for a moment. Surely I hadn’t done something to deserve being fired already?

“Good. Most of the staff took today off for the holiday weekend so we’re closing the office early today. Don’t come back in. See you Tuesday!”

The line went dead before I could respond. I let out a shaky breath as I placed my phone down on my kitchen counter and turned towards Cullen, who was staring at device in fascination. “Dorian once gave the inquisitor something like that… it let them communicate after the mage went home to Tevinter.”

I nodded absently, glad that the writers of Dragon Age had put something similar to phones in the game. That would make at least one thing a little easier to explain.

“That was my boss. They don’t need me back for the rest of the day so, I guess I’m yours.” I tried not to wince at the unintentional suggestion and prepared myself for a very long afternoon trying to explain the 21st century to a fantasy video game character.

[letters-to-my-dear-ex-boyfriend]

Dear Ex Boyfriend,

I don’t know If I will send this. Its all very dependent on your response to the last letter. I am hopeful this will get sent, but only time will tell. Who knows, maybe we will let technology seep in ever so slightly and use email. At least with email we know it will arrive.

I do this now, I write. I do it for me to get a lot off of my mind. Its somewhere I can go back to if I need to rethink or readjust a storyline in my head. Its therapeutic. Its sad. I would rather just talk these things through with you. I would rather have a conversation. I would rather we tried to work through this. We got therapy, we worked on us, worked on our communication. I would rather a lot of things, that aren’t this ending. I think that is what hurts the most. That I saw so many other avenues before this one.

Do you hate music? I hate music now. I don’t think you will have the same feelings towards music as me. But I think that is because your music choices tend to centre more around drugs, someone getting shot, or about some cheating hoes (this list isn’t exhaustive of all your music). But my music tends to be the junk on the radio that harps on and on and on about love, being loved, loving someone, and just absolute utter shit I don’t want to listen to. Any joyous song I once used to just quietly play in the background, now invades my personal space and makes me relive that Friday over and over again.

I do have to thank you though. Not exactly for what you did, and absolutely not for how you did it. But you did free me. I don’t stare at clocks anymore calculating what time it is in Scotland. I don’t rush through my day to make sure I am available during my most productive midday hours to not be productive but to sit on a video call. Some good is coming from this. BUT the reality is that I could have had that same good if we were simply in the same time zone. This is only freeing because of the time zones. I wouldn’t be appreciative of it or even thankful in the slightest if we were in the same time zone.

We briefly messaged back and forth the other day. But I had to stop it. It was feeling too normal. Too back to normal… That was the problem. It felt like we were back to the old days, of just chatting about anything and everything. But I stopped it. I was heavily policing myself. In a very tiring way. A way I don’t want to police myself anymore. Policing myself wasn’t hard, it was just doing it for someone I hadn’t had to do that for-for years. That was the hard part. Talking to you wasn’t hard. Letting you know how G was, wasn’t hard. Omitting the fact that D had been struggling greatly, that I suddenly became the only thing between him and a really horrible outcome. That was hard. That is hard. The first person I wanted to call was you, even though it was 8pm at night, so you wouldn’t have been available anyways. I also couldn’t call you, as I was trapped on the phone with D for hours. I wasn’t free until midnight, where I was barely free, I was exhausted, and would feel the aftermath of that call for days to come. So its been a lot.

The one time I really needed my trusty support system, I don’t get it. But at the same time that isn’t so different from how it had been at times. I try so incredibly hard to suppress that one summer visit when my grandmother died, and you spent it skydiving. I don’t know who to be mad at for the trip. Myself for not speaking up and asking you to not do the one thing you love the most in life. Or you for not seeing the obvious heart break I was going through and to choose to step back yourself. I still don’t know who to be mad at. I think I am mad at us both. Me for not mustering up the energy to speak up, and you for not seeing this as such an obvious time to spend more time with me, not less. I knew you loved skydiving, I knew that that trip was all about skydiving for you. But when we packed and left for Canada we didn’t know we were going to arrive to a death, plans should have changed right then and there. But I wouldn’t ask you to change them. I never did, and never would. That trip has never not stuck with me. I had thought back to it all the time and still do. It confuses me, I don’t like that I don’t know what the right answer is, and that maybe there never was one. I don’t like forcing people to do what is seemingly right, or better for the greater good. I want people to get there themselves, on their own accord. The same way I didn’t want to force you to move to Canada, maybe my silence was the same mistake.

I had a funny little moment of realization today. I think this pandemic made me into the person you might have wanted. I became this homebody that cooks, cleans, works out, goes on daily long walks, is independent, and is working from home. I don’t know that that is exactly what you wanted, but I have a feeling that that person wouldn’t make you unhappy, you wouldn’t not be pleased. This whole time I wanted to push back against being that person. But here I am, and Its not the worst thing ever. I could easily do this for lifetime. The important part being that I am not alone, that the cooking and cleaning is a constant team effort with my mother, and walks are with her too. I am independent, but not doing much alone. Which is exactly what I always wanted. I wanted to just not be alone, to share moments on long walks, or cooking together. I just wanted those little moments of us, just us. Every single one on one hike, dog walk, movie night, dinner, afternoon tea. I was at my happiest, I wanted the gift of one on one time with you, I just wanted us to get back to basics, back to just us.

I think I must have reached the part where you sit around bargaining. But its a weird form of bargaining. Its not just relationship related. It isn’t me thinking of all the things I would give up and do for you. Although that is part of it. Its me bargaining everything. Its me debating if this is how I want to spend the rest of my 20s, stressed, chained to a desk, chained to school. Is that what I want. Pandemics are wild but great for self reflection. You finally get to slow down and breathe. Your brain finally gets a chance to get out of that fog of stress and burnout it has lived in for years. I don’t think this is what I want right now. It is something I want, and in an ideal world I would do it right now, I would get it out of the way. So that I could just live my life the way I want, after doing all the steps to please everyone in my life. I can go screw off and live in a van and travel, but hey at least I have a PhD. I guess I am bargaining. I used to see a PhD as something that wouldn’t always be available to me, so I had to do it while I could. Who knew that you were what wouldn’t always be available to me.

You were saying that our relationship had been flawed for a while now. At first I just couldn’t grasp onto why that came as a surprise. Obviously it was flawed. We met on exchange, you lived in Germany, I lived in Canada, I moved home for months, I lost funding for my masters, I moved back to Scotland to be live alone, I started a new degree, I started to train Walt, you left the army, you moved back to Scotland, we moved house, you lost money in trades, you started a new job, I finished my thesis, I defended my thesis, I couldn’t find a way to stay other than a spouse visa, we had to give Walt back, I got kicked out of the country, you moved house, I started a new degree. It was like a never-ending list of hurdles to be jumped. It wasn’t going to be perfect. It wasn’t perfect. But I was happy to wade through that bullshit with you. I saw the light at the end of the tunnel. That light was Canada, and us being there together, back to basics, just us. That clearly didn’t happen.

I tried to think about when I was at my happiest in our relationship. Actually, I thought about when I was happiest in my life. 2 instances stand out. Both instances were when I did something crazy, something not quite normal, something for me. I did an extra year of school so I could go on an exchange, and moved abroad to do a master’s degree. Both times I cried at an airport leaving home. But I cried even harder moving back home afterwards. I never wanted to come home, I never wanted those experiences to end. I still tell everyone that they were the best experiences of my life.

I have grown J. For multiple reasons. I am off the birth control that left my depressed and in a fog. I finally have the opportunity to breathe and think without the burnout and stress of school. I have gotten therapy and speak with a professional weekly. I have grown. I have seen the mistakes I made in our relationship, that I denied for years. I see the times where I was in the wrong. I see that now. But I needed time to see that. I needed time to learn from them. I needed time to mature. I hope you have managed to do the same. I hope you have found an opportunity between work and James to think. To breathe. To mature in similar ways. I hope you still want to live in a van, travel, and skydive. I hope you still want to eventually get a dog and live on a big chunk of land in a log cabin. I hope your dreams haven’t change. I just hope you have grown the way I have.

You said it yourself that life is this wild thing and who knows what will happen. We have lived just one version of our story. But its all just one of those create your own story adventures. You can choose to stick to your guns, do something out of a RomCom, be stubborn, be empathetic, be open, be willing to change, be willing to risk it all, or choose nothing at all. You can just close the book and decide that is that. What I am trying to say in a super cheesy RomCom way is that I haven’t closed the book. I am ready to make some pretty crazy decisions. Decisions that will make people shake their heads in disbelief. I have done what I do best. Researched. I googled, I asked questions, and I have come up with possible plans. I have done what I always do, except this time I have done it with me in mind. With us in mind. Not with my family in mind, my friends in mind, my colleagues in mind.

I hate that I can’t just hop on a plane to Scotland right now. To do this in person. To just talk. I hate that this is all happening now. I hate that this is happening. But it is. And I am going to come out of this better. In everyway. I will be better inside and out. For me. I will come out on top. The question is where will you come out, where do you want to come out, how do you want to come out, and with whom?

Let me know when you have had a chance to breathe, to think, to mature, to grow. Let me know when you have though about different versions of the story, and what version you would prefer.

Let me know when you know. Clearly, I am ready to bargain.

With love,

Ex Girlfriend

This whole thing is just damn weird. My friends are all getting engaged in relationships that barely touched the surface of hardships we went through. They are just hoping love is enough to get through it down the road. But we did all that, we did survive. Through hard times caused by a multitude of little things we had been dealing with for a long time before. Things that before defined our success, became the last straw. It’s a hard pill to swallow. Evidently, I am not ready to swallow it. I am not ready, I also do not want to.

[canaryatlaw]

mmmm okay, today was fine. I woke up at 8:45 because I had to do follow up on a case we submitted Friday but never made it in front of the judge. the court itself was pretty easy to deal with, however the client was 75 and let’s say uh, a little technologically unaware lol. so her granddaughter was on her way over to set up Zoom, but the court already has us in the waiting room, so I gave her the info about calling in in case she doesn’t make it in time, where you call the number and give the meeting ID number then wait until you’re connected. well, I guess there was some misunderstanding along the way because she kept telling me the phone would drop the calls on her when I was telling her to just wait, and then I eventually figured out she had been trying to “just hold” on my calls, not the court number I gave her....thankfully her granddaughter made it in time because they made us wait fucking forever anyway, and after a few small bumps getting the audio set up it went off without a hitch, emergency order granted. we ended up in front of one of the judges who’s a floater and doesn’t have an assigned courtroom, and he is always soooooooooooo slow in doing EOP hearings, but he does like to be very clear about exactly what is happening before making a decision, so I can appreciate that at least, and when he does deny emergency orders, I can at least understand his thinking, even if I don’t fully agree with it. So byt the time that was done it was past 1, so I made a grilled cheese sandwich for lunch and then went back to work doing a millions different things, I’m scheduled to be the volunteer supervisor tomorrow and I’m also double-booked on court dates with one at 9 and the other at 10 in a different courtroom, and they’re both like, really fragile cases that I’ve spent a great deal of time working on in the past few weeks, so as much as I trust my coworkers (and I do, they generally are more knowledgeable than I am about court stuff at least) the situations are such that they could easily go off the rails, and if you don’t know everything that’s going on in the case you could end up getting screwed very quickly, so I’m really not comfortable with anyone else covering them. I’ve also grown rather fond of the clients in both cases so I want to make sure we’re doing all we can for them. so the plan is to log onto the 9 am courtroom and tell the coordinator I have another case up at 10 and if they could get us in sooner rather than later that would be much appreciated, it might be a bit more difficult this time because this time it’s going to be me, my client, opposing counsel, and potentially the Respondent, so that might take some time to manage. The 10 am one is set as such because the Respondent has a 9 am criminal case and the idea was basically to serve him with the papers while he’ll be there so he can make a choice if he wants to attend or skip, and if he skips we can get a default order entered which would be fab, but yeah because of that I know they’ll be fairly flexible about timing so I’m not too concerned there. so yeah, busy afternoon getting a lot of things ready, and tried to clock out somewhere around 5 pm, I’ve found it very tempting to just keep working if I have more stuff to work on (which I usually do) so I have to make myself stop for the day. fun working from home things. I had been contemplating making a run to the ups store and then the grocery store, the former for stamps I need to send out a bunch of closing letters, and the latter because we’re almost out of toilet paper so that needs to be fixed, and a few other items I neglected to get in my grocery order the other day. but I didn’t end up doing it today mostly out of laziness but I should have time tomorrow to get it done. my legs were a bit shaky on their own today, so idk if that means anything about how they will be while walking, but I guess we’ll see. I’m somewhat perplexed about the other situation I have going on. over the past few weeks my back pain has returned with a vengeance, after several months of it being basically non-existent (and me faithfully doing the exercises each day to keep it like that, and I continue to do them now), and I know a big potential cause of that for me at least is if my bra is too stretched out and isn’t supportive enough. so I was thinking maybe it was that but I couldn’t really tell if it’d been stretched out enough to actually be the cause of these issues....I say all this to say that Wednesday is my day to go into the office, and when I finish there at 3 I would be (relatively) close to the one and only store that actually sells bras in my size (seriously, do better Chicago) and like, the idea of needing to go bra shopping in the middle of a pandemic sounds gratuitous, but like, if this is the reason I need to be able to solve it. ugh. idk. we’ll see how I feel about it over the next few days and come to a decision. but yeah, for the rest of the night I basically just lounged on the couch and binged more of fresh off the boat, which has been entertaining so far, then eventually showered and started getting ready for bed and now I am here. Guess we’re really saying goodbye to August (and hence to summer, for the most part) now. tracking time this summer was so weird for obvious reasons, and now I don’t know how feel about if it felt too short or too long. well, I guess it doesn’t matter much anyway at this point. but yes, court tomorrow and it’s just past 1:30 so by the time I finish my last few things on my nightly routine it’ll probably be like 2, so I need to go to bed now. Goodnight babes. Hope your Monday didn’t suck (is it really still Monday? time isn’t real).