#i am pretty sure i had this same impression the first time i read rebecca too lol

[lastwagontrainhopper]

A guiding hand

Royai week day 2 - Serene (let’s collectively ignore how late I am posting this ok thaaaanks)

Summary:   “She expected Roy to follow up with a flirty comment or joke; that was usually how this type of conversation went. Instead, after a moment, he let out a sight. When he spoke again, his voice had a melancholic tone to it.

"That right there is the one sight that I really miss. ” ”

---

The Colonel and his Lieutenant share a late-night conversation. (Blind!Roy)

Words: 2489 

Tags: Blind Roy Mustang, Fluff and Angst, Late Night Conversations, Established Relationship, Canon Compliant

read on aot

“They had left their windows wide open, letting in a soft breeze to relieve them from the heavy summer heat. The curtains were rising and falling without a sound, fluttering in the air like ghosts. Even the streets around the house were quiet at that hour; the only thing that broke the stillness of the night was Riza's voice.

"As for Senator Harn's wife, she was wearing a very elegant apricot-colored dress. With her signature high hairdo, of course.”

Their blankets had long been kicked away to the bottom of the bed in a messy pile. Roy was lying on his back, facing to the ceiling, one hand playing idly with a lock of Riza's hair.

"Apricot?" His eyebrows furrowed slightly. "That's the yellow with a touch of pink, right?”

"That was pretty much it, yes." Riza was lying on her side, her head against her hand, elbow propped up on the pillow. The room was covered in shadows, but the flickering lights from the window on the street allowed her to see the outline of Roy's face.

"And you said Harn had a royal blue jacket...That must have made for an odd contrast.”

Riza smirked. "Yes, that's what several people seemed to think. It looked as if the General and his wife had not consulted with one another before coming to the gala.”

A sly smile spread across Roy’s face. "Ha! And you just know the rumors about their marriage are already flying high. It's sort of ironic, considering how Harn is constantly babbling to the Parliament about the “traditional family” and the “sanctity of marriage” and whatnot." His hand came to lightly circle Riza's wrist, his thumb tapping the back of her hand. "I’m sure you now understand how crucial fashion is in Central. It's not just a matter of taste: it's inherently political.”

"Sure," she answered, unconvinced. "Anyway. The Harns didn't capture the guests' attention that long, since the buffet was brought shortly after.”

Roy hummed appreciated. "And that was a good one. I've rarely tasted crab this delicious.”

"Yes, and they must have put as much effort into the presentation as in the cooking, because the set-up was magnificent. Everything was served on glittering silver plates, which reflected the glow of the chandeliers. On each table, the dishes were arranged in a sort of pyramid, culminating with the piece of meat or seafood. It looked extremely fragile, like...like some sort of house of cards, or crystal architecture, defying gravity - but they all stood the evening without crashing down. It was breathtaking.”

This had become the most constant part of their day. Almost every night, as they lay in bed before going to sleep, Riza would describe to Roy a long list of the things he hadn’t been able to see during the day. When they had first started this habit, as they were working on the the reconstruction of Ishval, Riza's descriptions had been much more pragmatic, like a mission report: which building seemed in need of repair? Which tribal leader looked unsatisfied during their morning meeting? She did her best to give him this information as the day went by, but there were always important details that she missed.

As the years had passed and the two had distanced themselves from the military, Riza's description had slowly become more lyrical. She began to tell him about beautiful sights that he was missing – a particularly colorful sunset, or the way the city lights looked at night. As time went by, she started to enjoy these conversations and more more, and they became increasingly long. It got to the point where, as Riza saw something pretty during the day, she found herself immediately thinking of the way she would describe it to Roy later at night.

"You should try to write a book," he had told her once. "You're so good at this - I can picture in my mind everything that you're telling me about like I was seeing it."

"It wouldn't be the same," she had answered, shaking her head. "I like hearing your reactions."

He had arched his eyebrows, smirking. "And yet you scold me every time I interrupt you.”

"Stop being overdramatic,” she had retorted. “Now let me continue." They had left it at that.

Sometimes Riza would rest her head on his chest as she went on with her stories. This was what Roy preferred.  Ever since losing his eyesight, he had grown much fonder of physical contact, even casual, with her - after all, it was the surest way he could know that she was by his side. But Riza liked to remain slightly further, just next to him, so that she would be able to observe him during their late-night conversation. His face would take on such a special expression at those times, almost peaceful, or...serene.

Serene. That would have been the last word anyone would have chosen to describe Roy under normal circumstances. Despite his reputation as a slacker, he was a man that was constantly busy thinking about one thing or another, pondering, planning his next ploy – or his next date with a certain Lieutenant. His eyes in particular had always betrayed the constant working of his mind: they were restless, always darting around the room to study the people they were talking to, noticing details in their postures, noting suspicious movements out of the corner of his eye.

And, Riza knew it well, even the moments of rest didn’t bring Roy much serenity. More often than not, his sleep was plagued by violent nightmares that would wake him screaming in the middle of the night - or at least, that tensed and distorted his expression as he slept.

This had not changed since the Promised Day. But since Roy’s fight in the underground of Central, his blind eyes had lost their piercing look and had taken on a milky appearance. In the first few weeks, Riza had hated meeting that blank stare - it reminded her too much of what his eyes used to look like, as well as symbolizing her failure as a bodyguard.

But eventually, she had come to see a certain beauty in them, and in the calmness they brought to Roy's expression. He was still as expressive as ever, with his trademark crooked smile and taunting eyebrows. But in the evening, when they were alone together, his face truly relaxed. As Riza described the day's events to him, he would focus entirely on her voice, letting his mind recreate the image she was painting. His eyebrows would loosen and his forehead became smooth, free of its usual furrow; his mouth would fall half-open. At this particular moment, Roy took on a serene expression that Riza had never seen on him before, and she never got tired of looking at it.

"I need to tell you, unfortunately," Riza broke the silence that had settled, "that you were not the best-dressed man at the reception.”

Roy propped himself up on his elbows, frowning with surprise. So much for serenity.

"What? Who was?”

“You’re not going to be happy about this,” Riza said, trying to hide the small smile in her voice. "But Colonel Birks made quite an impression. He wore a rather daring suit, made of a black  fabric from which red velvet patterns stood out.”

Roy huffed with indignation. "Velvet! Nonsense. He obviously can’t stop pushing the boundaries of extravagance – and of bad taste.”

"I don't know," Riza said evasively. “I thought it was pretty elegant…and I wasn't the only one.”

Roy ran a hand through his hair, ruffling it. "Outdressing the president should be considered insubordination," he muttered under his breath. "I'll call Ms. Zhao tomorrow. I need something more avant-garde for the next gala. Maybe with some silk mixed in with a cotton suit?”

He lay down again on the bed and raised his arm, inviting her to come closer. Riza moved to nestle up against him, putting her head on his shoulder, a hand on his chest. Roy wrapped an arm around her waist and buried his nose in her hair. Whenever he did that, his breaths would tickle Riza's neck, making her giggle; she would always pretend to be annoyed but it, but they both knew better.

After a moment, Roy tucked some of her hair away from her face. He brought his lips close to her ear. "Tell me again what you were wearing."

Riza felt a shiver go down her spine. That deep voice that Roy used when he whispered always got a reaction out of her, no matter what cliché or silly thing he would say.

A wry smile crossed her lips. "At this point, you know my wardrobe better than I do, Roy. ”

"I know," he answered, unabashed. "But I like hearing you describe it."

Riza chuckled. “Well,” she began, “I was wearing the flowy emerald green skirt that Rebecca got me for Christmas, a brown leather belt, and my white blouse. The one with the embroidery on the collar. ”

He hummed in appreciation. "With your golden high heels, I'm guessing."

"With my golden high heels," she nodded, "because even though my feet are killing by the end of the night when I wear them, they do really go well with that skirt." Her hand started to play with the ring that Roy wore as a necklace. "I didn't put much makeup on because of how humid the weather was. But I did wear my bright red lipstick."

She felt his cheeky smile even before he spoke. "I can recognize it by taste, now."

If they weren’t pressed so close together, she would have dug her elbow into his ribs. She rolled her eyes instead. "I also had my gold bracelet to go with the shoes, and the earrings you bought me to complete it all. What else...my hair was in a bun, and, of course, I had my necklace."

She expected Roy to follow up with a flirty comment or a joke; that was usually how this type of conversation went. Instead, after a moment, he let out a sight. When he spoke, his voice had a melancholic tone to it.

"That right there is the one sight that I really miss. ”

Riza felt her smile drop. A lump appeared in her throat. Roy rarely complained about his blindness; even in the months following the Promised Day, he had adapted to his new lifestyle with impressive resilience. At first, it seemed as if his disability had affected his Lieutenant, plagued by guilt, more than himself. Still, Riza knew that he must have carried a lot of silent regrets through the years. There was so much Roy had had to give up, so many compromises he had had to reluctantly accept on his plan to reform Amestris – and on his personal life.

Riza disentangled herself gently from his grasp and straighten up, half sitting, to observe him. One of his arms was folded under his head, and he still seemed to be looking at the ceiling - but of course, that was just an impression. She ran a hand through his hair, brushing them away from his face. He smiled slightly at her touch, but she didn't need to see the pupils of his eyes to know that his heart wasn't in it.

She didn't like seeing him like this. With thoses cloudy eyes, melancholy turned his serene expression into a confused one - like he was a child that got lost and couldn't look for his way home.

Riza laid down again and rested her head on the pillow, her face turned toward Roy. She started to gently stroke his arm. "At least, you can keep in your mind the image of what I – and you – looked like in the prime of our youth," she said after a moment in a playful tone, trying to comfort him. "You won't need to see us get all old and wrinkled.”

To her surprise, Roy's face saddened further.

"Don't say that. Beautiful women are like fine wine, they only get better with age - that's what Chris used to say. I always wanted to see how you would look as you grew old.”

Riza raised her eyebrow, surprised. "Really?" she answered in spite of herself.

He nodded. "Not everyone ages gracefully, of course. But I know that wrinkles would look flattering on you; you have such elegant features. And silvery hair never fails to give this distinguished look - at least on women," he added, running a hand through his hair, suddenly self-conscious. His eyebrows furrowed. "Do I already have grey hair?"

Riza felt her shoulders relax. "You're almost completely bald by now, Roy."

He winced. "Please don't joke with that. I don't know what I would do if this were to happen.

Riza simply smiled, and they fell back into a comfortable silence. She watched Roy’s chest rise and fall with his breathing, lulled by the calm rhythm.

"You know, I always wished I could see you grow old, also because it would have meant that we made it."

Riza felt her breath catch in her throat.

She reached up and placed her hand on his cheek, hoping her touch could tell him what her words couldn’t.

“We did make it, Roy.” Now of all time, she wished he could see her face.

"I know," he said. He took her hand and brought it to his lips, pressing a light kiss against her knuckles. "I know."

Riza propped herself up on her elbow. She close her fingers around his, and squeezed firmly.

"Listen. We'll just do like with everything else. When my hair turns grey, I'll describe it to you. And as for the wrinkles," she placed his hand on her face, "you can see that for yourself."

Roy made a small smile. For the first time, he turned to face her, placing the tip of his fingers on both sides of her face. That was something he never tired of doing. Before he had lost his sight, he had always been able to read her like a book, understanding the meaning behind even the most subtle of her facial expressions. Now, he could do it in a much more literal sense, by tracing the surface of her body, reading the lines on her skin as if they were words written in braille.

"And when my face is so wrinkled it's unrecognizable,” she continued, "you will know the story behind each one of them.” She injected a smile into her voice. “The ones I already have on my forehead, for example, come from the stress of having spent so many years asking you to do your paperwork.”

His fingers brushed her forehead, and he smiled, abashed. "And you're all the more beautiful for it, my dear." He reached toward her and, guided by his hands, placed a light kiss on her head. “I can’t wait to see the rest.” ”

[magebastard]

(ok thank you so much @possumsunshine for making this big fat wayhaven detective questionnaire i had FUN doing it)

QUICK READ OF YOUR DETECTIVE

Name: lane m. wheatley

Pronouns: she/they

Sexuality: bisexual

Love interest: mason

Best friend: unit bravo all of them

Main skill: people

Secondary skill: science

Main personality trait: genuine

Secondary personality trait: easygoing

Why did they join the Wayhaven PD?: wants to protect people

Relationship with Rebecca: bad so bad laughably bad

Relationship with Bobby: ex

Verda or Tina?: verda

Murphy bite?: neck

Murphy’s fate?: captured

Rescue LI or Rescue Sanja?: mason she panicked

GENERAL

Name: lane marshall wheatley

Nickname: detective (affectionate)

Birthday: december 8th

Age: 27

Pronouns: she/they

Sexuality: bisexual

Hair color: honey blonde

Eye color: dark brown

Height: 5’1

Piercings: a few holes in her ears and her septum but she very rarely wears the septum ring

Tattoos: a rat on her left thigh, a stick and poke that says dunkin donuts on the inside of her left ankle

Clothing Style: smart. blazers and slacks. very shiny loafers. big bulky wristwatch. christopher moltisanti from the sopranos.

Apartment Style: dark. but fully furnished by bulk trash day

STATS

Personality:

Charming | Intimidating

Impulsive | Cautious

Sarcastic | Genuine

Friendly | Stoic

Easygoing | Stubborn

Traits:

Heart | Mind

Optimist | Pessimist

Team Player | Independent

Skills:

Main Skill: people

Second Skill: science/technology

By the Book | Bend the Rules

KEY DECISIONS

Reason for joining the Wayhaven PD: wants to protect people

Murphy bite: Wrist | Neck | None

Murphy’s Fate: Captured | Escaped

Rescued: Love Interest | Sanja

ROMANTIC RELATIONSHIP

Love Interest: mason

Why them?: ok time to be A Bit Much™️ but she immediately identifies herself in mason. like felix and nate are open and kind which she tries to embody, and adam respects her so long as she does her job which she understands and appreciates. she doesn’t understand or relate to any of them in a romantic sense. with mason she sees that ‘oh, he likes to hook up and flirt. he’s kind of grumpy but that’s fine i also pretty much exclusively only hook up and flirt. so that could happen.’

Bold, shy, or mixed?: bold

What were their first impressions of each other?: for lane, mason immediately pissed her off. she was very stressed out by the case and rebecca’s sudden appearance and adam’s attitude, so her patience was so thin and she just didn’t care about much beyond solving the mystery of the murder. she thought he might have seen her in a weak spot and pointedly ribbed her because of it so she was like “i literally just need to learn to ignore this man.”

for mason, it was a weird mixed bag, because he could pick up on lane’s reluctance to work with a team—especially rebecca’s team. with that impression in mind, he sees her cast all of her personal feelings aside for the sake of solving the case and protecting the town, and he relates to that instinct. other than that, he was generally annoyed that they had to work with her

What do they find attractive about each other, mentally or physically?: everything for sure but specifically their favorite features -

for lane: mason’s freckles and his long nose and hands. mentally, it’s his honesty and sense of humor

for mason: lane’s eyes, cheeks when she smiles, legs. mentally, it’s her open mindedness and protective nature

What do they do to spend time together?: they go on walks, lane tries to find mason’s favorite music, they watch movies, they go on long drives, they sit at the lighthouse, they watch sunsets together, they stare at the moon

What is their favorite memory together?: they make a lot! the first time they quietly sit together on the roof of the warehouse becomes especially important to them both over time

What are their love languages?: touch, quality time, lane is half in/half out on words of affirmation

How do they handle being apart from one another?: ok deep romance mason feels the brunt of hypersensitivity with also the ache of loss so he mostly sulks and sticks to his room. lane kind of walks around on autopilot. not really realizing it, but definitely experiencing heavy brain fog and going home and berating herself for being needy but also crying

Do they argue? How do they handle arguments and disagreements? How do they make up?: they don’t really argue! mason doesn’t really think not to speak his mind and lane is very communicative and easygoing. they bicker when one of them ends up in avoidable danger, but it usually ends with a quiet “i need you to stay safe.” something w that sentiment

What does their future look like?: traveling and a lake house. staying with unit bravo through thick and thin. lane turns when she’s 29, and they stay in wayhaven until she turns about 45 and eyebrows start to raise.

Anything else you’d like to share: they do get married. it’s a very small and very private ceremony that doesn’t really matter much to either of them but conceptually being husband and wife feels very funny and novel and also just makes sense

BEST FRIEND RELATIONSHIP

Best friend: i cannot choose but for this instance i will go with nate

Why them?: they talk a lot about literature and food and music and lane bids on antique furniture for nate because he doesn’t know how to use ebay. it’s a very precious friendship for them both

What were their first impressions of each other?: lane is weary of nate because he’s so charming that she worries that maybe he’s TOO confident. it passes when he gives that exasperated vibe off over felix being overtly outgoing in like a “oh he’s the parent” kind of way. he also has this comforting presence and she worries that he assumes she needs to be comforted. nate is weary of lane because while he’d never assume that someone is incapable at first glance, lane looks like a stiff wind would blow her over and that she hasn’t slept in a year. also his first genuine sight and impression of her is this tiny person taking a coffee pot apart piece by piece and grumbling very angrily to herself.

What do they do to spend time together?: nate purchases period piece luxury furniture and sometimes it is not in the best condition so lane and nate restore old furniture together. they debate about shakespeare and different genres of music. sometimes they play together. they swap recipes and while nate doesn’t gossip much, he always listens to station drama over tea/coffee.

Anything else you’d like to share: nate is the first person lane talks to about becoming a vampire. she knows he has his own reservations and she needs to hear them. also lane, nate and felix paint each other’s nails every few weeks. adam has an open invitation that he cashes in maybe twice a year.

OTHER RELATIONSHIPS (Feel free to go in depth!)

Relationship with Rebecca: bad! they are strangers to each other and also very sad reflections of one another. rebecca makes lane feel so small without even trying

Relationship with Rook: rook was as beloved in wayhaven as lane is now, if not more so. she hears about him in stories that every adult in town seem to know. he’s her hero and she’s always a bit devastated that she never got to know him. lane had a crisis of identity in her sophomore year of college and suddenly the stories she’d always heard felt like a calling to try to be good like rook. this ends up being why she declared her major in forensic science and started working towards becoming a detective like he was

Relationship with Bobby: it’s pretty much fine. neither of them were great when they were together and lane feels a bit bad now because she definitely used him. he did the same, for a few reasons. they’re okay now, but lane kind of feels kind of weird about the 8 months they dated.

Relationship with Verda: they are science best friends. they drink wine on the porch on summer nights, and lane babysits the kids when sol and eric need a night off

Relationship with Tina: very close. your best coworker friend who you start spending time with outside of work and then you realize that you are almost spending all of your time together with them actually. lane’s spent the last two years worth of holidays with the ponames

Relationship with the Mayor: not great! she’s very ‘by the book’ but always takes the chance to snark him. used to egg his house as a teen

Relationship with Capt. Sung: she sees him as a weird general manager at work and can be fine with small and idle chatting when they run into each other at town functions

Relationship with Haley: haley and lane hooked up a lot when lane and bobby broke up. they were band kids in high school together and it’s a very important friendship for lane

Relationship with Elidor: she is so comforted by this fae man. they talk science, they chat about personal dreams, huge hugs.

Relationship with Tapeesa/Vieno: lane has a friendly relationship with vieno! they call her buddy and she internally is like “i am! i am your buddy!”

Relationship with Unit Alpha: dunks on maaka for making fun of nate and adam. they’re pretty blunt and open and she likes that energy a lot

Relationship with the Maa-alused: a lot of guilt over them losing their home. lane gets the vibe that falk was flirting but she didn’t want to assume but also she was into it. devastated by the fact that she could have saved sanja if she hadn’t let her feelings cloud her sense of logic.

Do they have any other important relationships, past or present? (Relatives, friends, etc.?):

this is. a lot. (CW death and vehicular trauma) there was a boy who lane grew up with, who lived in the house across the street from her childhood home. by far, her best friend. they started dating freshman year of high school, and ended up in the same university, still together. lane was a comm major until her sophomore year and the two of them started a band in high school that became the band that lane was in for years.

in their sophomore yr of college, he proposed and lane said yes, of course, they had NO plan or any idea outside of the band of what they wanted to do for the rest of their lives. that same year, they ended up in a car crash and he did not make it. this is what triggered lane to kind of lose a lot of her sense of identity. she found comfort in stories about rook and decided that—with no direction, who would be better to emulate than her hero? her partner’s name was david, they were soulmates and ya she still misses him

other than that, the two other guys that were in the band who she has not seen since the funeral. i have this idea in my head of writing the scene where they visit and meet unti bravo which would be entirely for me and my own little rat brain

PERSONAL BIO

Describe their personality: very laid back and open/honest. easygoing

Strengths: very detail oriented, can spot the faintest whiff of a pattern and connect dots with sparse evidence. emotionally driven to the point that she pushes herself beyond her limits to do a job well. very technologically savvy

Weaknesses: emotionally driven lmao cannot separate herself from a case once she’s started, feels personally responsible for everyone she could not save. bottles up her anger until she has no choice but to deal w it via crying.

Where in the world is their Wayhaven?: somewhere on the east coast. near a wawa

What is their personal history?: lane is a town stray. she had her house with nannies and agency babysitters who weren’t invested in her emotional growth and well-being, so her defacto family is uh all of wayhaven. neighbors, mailmen, friends parents, shop owners. she connects as much as she can with everyone in town. she drifts a lot between them, and after the accident she realizes that she would do anything to protect these people

If they weren’t a detective, what would their dream job be?: if rook were never a detective, lane would have probably leaned less on stories of his heroism. she probably would have stuck closer to her friends and tried to commit to making music her full time job

Anything else you’d like to share: she picked up smoking very young and it’s genuinely surprising to people that she has never questioned why she does it or that she’s never had any intention of quitting ever

RANDOM FACTS

Zodiac sign: sagittarius

Hobbies: furniture restoration, making music, walking, cooking/baking

Likes: a funky little bass line, marlboro menthols, giving piggy back rides, painting walls, being a lab tech and assistant for verda, sitting on the kitchen counter in the middle of the night

Dislikes: arguing, loud noises, when it gets too hot outside, when it gets too cold outside, when she catches someone in a lie and they continue to deny it

Drink of choice: black coffee w a little cinnamon mixed in the grounds

Starbucks order: 6 shot latte w soy

Favorite food: grilled eggplant

Favorite color: this color is called black bean it’s this

Favorite music: not to be annoying but truly all of it there is something she can enjoy in every genre but early 2000’s rnb and hard core punk probably

Favorite genre (and favorite movie/book/etc): she loves a rom com but also thrillers. her favorite movies are muppets treasure island and ratatouille

Favorite season: spring!

Anything else you’d like to share: her car’s name is Hank

[baodurs]

i want someone besides me and the 2 friends who know all the lore to meet my detective, but i’m too impatient to let you get to know her via fic so i filled out this questionnaire instead. she is veronica and she is so important, here is some stuff about her if you are interested :’)

QUICK READ OF YOUR DETECTIVE

Name: veronica langford

Pronouns: she/her

Sexuality: bi

Love interest: adam

Best friend: morgan

Main skill: science/technology

Secondary skill: combat/physical

Main personality trait: impulsive

Secondary personality trait: sarcastic

Why did they join the Wayhaven PD?: best use of her science skills

Relationship with Rebecca: not great

Relationship with Bobby: ex, finds it hard to be around him

Verda or Tina?: both! but she’s on verda’s branch

Murphy bite?: wrist

Murphy's fate?: captured

Rescue LI or Rescue Sanja?: sanja

GENERAL

Name: veronica “it’s been 3 years and i never gave her a middle name” langford

Nickname: just veronica. people around wayhaven called her ronny growing up, and a few still do despite her trying to grow out of it. maybe a few people from college and sometimes tina call her v or vee or something.

Birthday: please you all know i am so scared of concrete dates

Age: 26

Pronouns: she/her

Sexuality: bi

Hair color: brown

Eye color: dark brown

Height: 5′10 (178 cm)

Piercings: just one in each ear

Tattoos: something retro sci-fi on her shoulder. not a reference to anything specific, but like a little planetary landscape with a UFO in the background or something.

Clothing Style: casual. lots of tank tops and muscle tees (weather- and occasion-permitting), concert t-shirts, warm colors. flannels and leather jackets. jeans, sneakers, combat boots. think like rocker chick vibes, but cozier and more colorful.

Apartment Style: basic. she really did not plan on living there long and kept putting off decorating because it’d be a waste if she was just going to move out. this rationalization went on so long but since the end of book 1 she has slowly bought a few things to push it towards “cozy,” still pretty sparse though.

STATS

Personality:

Charming | Intimidating

Impulsive | Cautious

Sarcastic | Genuine

Friendly | Stoic

Easygoing | Stubborn

Traits:

Heart | Mind

Optimist | Pessimist

Team Player | Independent

Skills:

Main Skill: science/technology (but mostly science)

Second Skill: combat/physical

By the Book | Bend the Rules

KEY DECISIONS

Reason for joining the Wayhaven PD: best use of her science skills

Murphy bite:  Wrist | Neck | None

Murphy’s Fate: Captured | Escaped

Rescued: Love Interest | Sanja

ROMANTIC RELATIONSHIP

Love Interest: adam

Why them?: for veronica it’s kind of retroactive. the way i imagine their True Canon, they don’t have any real romantic moments in book 1, so she doesn’t seriously consider that adam might have feelings for her until well into book 2. (the training scene is when she’s like “oh. ok. i get it now.”) even then it takes a few more chapters for her to really process that, figure out how she feels, and recontextualize everything. like realizing that he loves her and then thinking back on their relationship, knowing that, makes her feel so held (sorry i have no better way to say it) in a way that just makes her want to cry.

to give some actual specific reasons, it’s his dedication and his constancy and hidden care/softness. and his very specific brand of... selflessness might be just left of the word i’m looking for, but hopefully you get me.

Bold, shy, or mixed?: neither! in theory it’s closer to bold, but it’s more just earnest.

What were their first impressions of each other?: disastrous. on top of finding him condescending and unpleasant, there are also a few moments where veronica genuinely wonders whether he’s even a good person. or, like, cares about people. but once she learns the truth of things, a lot of her initial anger gets transferred to rebecca.

adam, with the benefit of knowing what’s actually happening, has a slightly more favorable impression of veronica. yes he thinks she’s difficult and reckless and too emotionally driven, yes she’s making his job absolutely miserable, but he does begrudgingly respect that her accusations are always on the right track and she’s good at her job.

What do they find attractive about each other, mentally or physically?:

for veronica: she loooves his sense of humor. and how much faith he has in the people he cares about. physically, dimples <3. but everything about his smile really. and his nose!

for adam: veronica has a very blunt, unadorned sense of kindness to her that he really loves. the way she is kind before she is nice and values directness. physically, her eyes, they’re deep brown and so expressive.

What do they do to spend time together?: they’re both competitive so anything where they can compete on the same team is fun. (competing against each other is fun too, but also like. exhausting. for them and everyone.) maybe puzzles or other things where it feels like they’re “winning” or solving something together. i have spent an embarrassing amount of thought on veronica and overw*tch esp*rts and she would absolutely make adam learn how to play main tank so they could queue as a tank duo. but most of the time i think they don’t Do specific things together; they just hang out. just talk with each other. perhaps snuggle.

What is their favorite memory together?: in current canon... lol. veronica really just treasures any time adam relaxes around her but those moments always get Ruined. even once they’re well into a relationship, i think veronica’s favorite memory would still be something small like a random time he said something funny and they both laughed together and they were outside and the sky was pretty.

What are their love languages?: acts of service for both of them, but especially adam. veronica... probably lots of words of affirmation and physical touch. they’re both bad at blocking out time for themselves in the first place, so quality time can get neglected especially at first.

How do they handle being apart from one another?: pretty well i think! once they’re in an established relationship at least, before that it’s probably harder. but adam can distract himself with work, and veronica is good at focusing on whatever’s in front of her (whether that’s work or she’s away on vacation or something). if neither of them is too busy, veronica calls every night and they stay on a while, half talking and half just keeping each other company.

Do they argue? How do they handle arguments and disagreements? How do they make up?: i think arguments are fairly rare! yes they’re both insanely stubborn, but they also understand each other pretty well (especially once in a relationship) and are very sympathetic to where the other is coming from. unless both of them are extremely stressed, one of them crumbles when they start genuinely arguing like "i don't want to fight ok, let's take a second."

What does their future look like?: who knows! i haven’t decided whether veronica will turn. i think she probably will, just because i do not want my main pairing for this IF to make me very sad all the time, but like. i’m not fully committing until i see a reason pop up in canon. as of book 3′s final demo, it’s not on her radar at all; she knows she loves adam and wishes they could Talk, but ultimately doesn’t expect or even want a relationship right now (because she doesn’t want to deal with dating one of rebecca’s agents OR with the logistics of being in a committed relationship with an immortal being). it’s just all so foreign to her current state of mind that it’s really hard to say!

Anything else you'd like to share: do you know how hard it was to answer some of these considering veronica wasn’t sure they were even, like, on decent terms for such a large portion of the canon content

BEST FRIEND RELATIONSHIP

Best friend: morgan and farah are essentially joint besties but i’ll go with M

Why them?: i think they appreciate each other’s no bullshit attitude. morgan likes that veronica doesn’t take herself too seriously and respects/relates to the way she tackles problems (quickly, head-on, and without complaint but also without pretending that it doesn’t suck?). veronica appreciates morgan’s bluntness, likes bantering with her, and in general just likes being around people that have quiet/steady presences.

What were their first impressions of each other?: neither of them had much of a first impression honestly. morgan barely thought of veronica at all beyond “she’s annoying,” and kept to herself so much that any dislike veronica had of morgan took a backseat to her dealing with the rest of unit bravo.

What do they do to spend time together?: lots of just sitting in the same room and listening to (low volume) music, veronica spends a lot of time hunting for songs morgan might like. morgan is also her go-to sparring/training buddy. and there are semi-frequent movie nights where veronica shows farah her favorite old shitty B movies, and sometimes morgan will tag along just to sit in the room with them or affectionately talk shit.

Anything else you'd like to share: i’ll talk a little about N! obviously veronica and nate respect, trust, and like each other, but she finds him the hardest of UB to connect with. they’re both people who wear their compassion on their sleeves but keep a lot of their hearts/themselves held back, so they just kind of circle each other, especially since like... nate values politeness and is very sweet in how he relates to people, while veronica values directness and is more jokey/lighthearted to put people at ease. idk how well i’m communicating this; as of the book 3 demo it’s getting easier, but their friendship is still newer/more... nebulous? than the others.

OTHER RELATIONSHIPS (Feel free to go in depth!)

Relationship with Rebecca: so strained. veronica has come to terms with rebecca’s absences throughout her childhood, but there’s newer resentment over... a lot of things, but how she handled the murphy case especially. veronica hates being kept in the dark, and even more than that she hates being rebecca’s priority. it’s difficult to reconcile her childhood and present images of rebecca, and she’s angry that rebecca is so freely and recklessly choosing her, now, to the point of endangering others if she has to, especially when she never felt like rebecca’s choice before. and incredibly frustrated/confused by how often the lines between their professional and familial relationships are blurred and what rebecca actually wants from her.

Relationship with Rook: veronica takes after rook a lot. in stat terms, the only trait they don’t share is stoic, and even then that’s veronica’s least extreme stat. people always told her how like her father she was growing up, and it’s a comparison she took/takes a lot of pride in! she looks up to him based on the stories, but more recently is uncomfortable with the comparisons. veronica would never have even come back to wayhaven if her life panned out as planned, let alone become a detective or joined the agency. that makes her doubt herself, and she feels like that doubt is letting rook down somehow.

rook is also part of the reason her relationship with rebecca isn’t as bad as it could be. she knows that rook loved her, and that he would want his family to be there for each other, so she feels obligated to at least try to make things better. but it’s really hard for her to move past everything to connect with rebecca (which also makes her feel like she’s disappointing rook).

Relationship with Bobby: they were together for a long time and veronica thought she loved him a lot! it was her first relationship, so she wasn’t sure a) what a “bad partner” looked like, or b) how to even be in a relationship or rely on someone in that way. so they spent a lot of time together and had great superficial chemistry, but veronica didn’t have enough experience with not feeling neglected to realize how shallow it was, or notice the red flags when she did occasionally open up. the plagiarism fiasco was a slap in the face, especially because it cost her internships/grad school apps/whatever, i don’t have the details, and forced her to move back to wayhaven after school. she’s still very hurt by it and finds it hard to be around bobby.

Relationship with Verda: due to the above plagiarism fiasco, veronica was pretty depressed when she moved back home, and disliking her job didn’t help. she was extremely jealous when verda was hired and wanted to hate him. but it did not take long for that to crumble into respect/admiration, and eventually into close friendship! verda is a role model for her; they bond over science; they joke easily and have good chill fun. she was really excited to see him piecing together the truth about the supernatural and then devastated to see how he reacted. she feels insanely guilty and thinks it was selfish of her to let him figure it out, but is also cautiously optimistic about making it up to him as of the book 3 demo.

Relationship with Tina: very close! veronica isolated herself when she came back to wayhaven after school, and she is so grateful to tina for being her closest friend and link to the rest of the world during that time. hates keeping the supernatural from her, though. she didn’t like lying to tina to begin with, but she feels even worse about it now that verda knows, and now that tina has clearly picked up on something being wrong but she still can’t say anything.

Relationship with the Mayor: cannot stand him. hates the way he talks about rook, hates the way he talks to rebecca. she cooperates as necessary but doesn’t bother hiding her lack of patience/respect for him.

Relationship with Capt. Sung: basically fine. i think veronica might be a little too casual for him in the way she works, but she always gets the job done so he’s not too bothered by it. (she is ‘bend the rules,’ but more ‘strict rules aren’t important as long as you’re still doing good work’ than the ‘boooo fuck paperwork’ variety. so it’s mostly fine.) she also appreciates him as a minor link to rook.

Relationship with Haley: very friendly, but not super close. they get along great and could make pleasant conversation for hours, but ultimately don’t know each other super well despite the familiarity of growing up together.

Relationship with Elidor: such a comforting presence for veronica during her recovery! she is so grateful, so fond.

Relationship with Tapeesa/Vieno: veronica loves vieno’s cranky-yet-friendly vibe and they get along well! not close, but will stop to chat whenever they pass each other.

Relationship with Unit Alpha: loves their energy. always looks forward to the next opportunity to chat with them, and fully supports any harmless dunking on UB even if she rarely joins in.

Relationship with the Maa-alused: going through the house of mirrors and then coming home for them to appear in her apartment and infect bobby was one of thee worst experiences of her life, and it’s hard for her to get past that + the illness in general. sympathizes with them, and got them to sign the treaty, but is still kind of unsettled by everything that happened and by falk.

Do they have any other important relationships, past or present? (Relatives, friends, etc.?): some vague figures i have in mind but no one i’ve really developed. a couple friends from college, and maybe an elderly couple that lives on her childhood street and used to check in her.

PERSONAL BIO

Describe their personality: her usual demeanor is very warm and casual. sincere but private--she’s pretty blunt and likes to be direct with people, but steers conversations away from personal topics. likes to joke around and doesn’t take herself that seriously. but behind all this, she’s extremely stubborn and won’t shy away from conflict if she thinks you’re in the wrong (which is why she seems like a different person in the first half of book 1. UB is surprised by how like... chill and nice she is once they clear the air). a workaholic, self-reliant and secure but still pretty hard on herself, takes a lot of responsibility for the people around her.

Strengths: so dedicated. honest and trustworthy, has a strong moral compass and can always be counted on to do her absolute best. flexible and intuitive, her brain works really fast.

Weaknesses: cannot compartmentalize or separate herself from a case, throws herself so recklessly into everything (in terms of both physical danger and emotional burnout). doesn’t necessarily hold grudges but has a hard time letting go of hurt, still can’t think objectively about bobby or rebecca.

Where in the world is their Wayhaven?: somewhere on the US east coast idk what to tell you. perhaps a carolina or a virginia.

What is their personal history?: veronica was pretty social and well-liked around wayhaven growing up. she was known as just a really good kid; she was an overachiever and got along with almost anyone. in college, she felt like she was free of something and took a very work hard/play hard approach to life. always doing or going, whether it was for school or work or fun. she really enjoyed life during this time but crashed and burned pretty hard when she and bobby broke up; a lot of her plans were delayed until the plagiarism incident was resolved and she didn’t really have the heart to pursue them afterwards.

a year or so after graduating, she returned to wayhaven with the intention of taking one more year to regroup, and she has been stuck there longer than she meant to be and has kind of hit a wall when book 1 starts.

If they weren't a detective, what would their dream job be?: she was on track to become a biochemist and it was her dream job but then the main plot happened to her.

Anything else you'd like to share: i don’t really know enough to fully explain this, but no OC i love is a cop so like. i think maybe the job she took when she got back to wayhaven was a douglas-esque receptionist role for detective reele’s private office. then reele retired and small town politics + veronica’s history of useful contributions to cases in her downtime at work led to her being pressured to take up the mantle. it’s hard to explain why she’s a detective when she so deeply does not want to be one but i am Trying (or maybe she would have jumped at the chance to do something marginally closer to forensics?? who knows)

RANDOM FACTS

Zodiac sign: aries is what i assigned her when i first made her and i think it suits her! plus it’d be fun for her and M to be twins. this goes hand-in-hand with my birthday commitment issues though

Hobbies: music (she plays guitar and bass and sings a little), running, gaming unfortunately. i could also see her having been into boxing or some martial art but idk what exactly!

Likes: early morning stillness, DIY projects, t-shirts with inexplicable slogans and other weird thrift store finds

Dislikes: overly sweet food or drink, when cold weather lasts too long, being lied to or “protected” from the truth

Drink of choice: something with gin maybe. also feels a great fondness and gratitude for cheap wine.

Starbucks order: i truly know nothing about coffee. is it weird to order black coffee at starbucks

Favorite food: variations on spicy chicken soup! she eats a lot of crockpot meals for convenience and they’ve grown on her, and she has a few different recipes based on whatever she has on hand.

Favorite color: maybe like a rusty orange

Favorite music: she will listen to anything, but her favorite is probably folk rock, or sometimes stuff with soul or old school country vibes. big thief is a good example of an artist she’d be into i think! also was very into the indie music scene in her college town and still follows some of those bands.

Favorite genre (and favorite movie/book/etc): loves old, campy, unselfconsciously optimistic sci-fi. loves star trek tos. also a fan of documentaries of all kinds.

Favorite season: summer

Anything else you'd like to share: a kiss for you reading this mwah

[goblinconceivable]

oh ffs, i have feels but also head exploded

So basically someone liked a story I wrote a million years ago and mostly forgotten about, and when that happens I often reread the thing.  (I can’t be the only one who does that...)  Can’t say I’ve thought about Alex/Izzie since I wrote it, couldn’t even tell you when I stopped watching the show, though I think it was before her cancer.

Anyway I infected myself with feels for them again.  And I dig the style I was using, 1+1 started a third chapter for funsies and should have stopped there.  Because I did some reading and watched some clips and it’s all too much and when that happens I meta.

Usual mishmash, structure desired but no work put into achieving it.  Classic brain dump.

Okay, fundamentals first.  I am for now ignoring how Izzie/KH left the show.  Because they had to exit her somehow and I’m sure Shonda was pissed at her, (or was leaving the door open for her return but I doubt it.)  Haven’t seen it, if I needed to I could work it into my conception of their whole arc, but since I’m more critically hung up before that point, not worrying about it.

What’s got me messed up is that RIGHT AFTER Izzie promised to not go crazy, she... went crazy.  Like, WTF was that about?  I get that GA is all about the soapy drama, that is why I stopped watching.  First couple seasons: brilliant.  Downhill from there.  But two things:

1) We never get to see these two happily together.  One hot second and bam.***  Every.  Time.  Shonda allowed it for Meredith and Derek, but in my brain other couples got it for periods of time at the least.  But these two, nope.  And know what?  THAT WOULD HAVE BEEN FASCINATING TO WATCH.  I could delve into this and might swing back around but trying to hit highlights.

2) It set them on two different storylines instead of one.  And Izzie got the short stick.  Yes I can see how it works on paper, but not on screen.  There are limits to the visual medium and limits to how much screen time they were given, which pretty much destroy the ability to nuance something this complex.  

a) Izzie’s in her own world dealing with a ghost and is basically in two relationships at once (mental note to look for parallels with Alex’s exit and Jo v Izzie.)  Except one’s a dream and the other is a reality that is still developing, yet she can’t give attention to.  She has to fight every time to be there for Alex in the real world, and we don’t really get to explore her struggle.  It often just looks like distraction and distance and him being second right after she firmly laid out that she cares about him.

b) Alex is in a relationship and is super happy and excited and wants the perfection he’s dreamed about to be real so much he’s overlooking everything that’s off.  In his own little dream world I guess, but like, the whole thing skews into this being the story of Alex while Izzie is wandering in circles somewhere over in that direction, all serving the purpose of advancing exploration and development of Alex’s character.  When did KH ask to be let out?  If it was after this point, Shonda svcks.  I mean, it is cool to watch him really blossom, but since he’s doing it under his own steam I’m left with a bad taste in my mouth.  Because he’s not really in a real relationship.  I want to see him get that, I want to see it for real.

***What IS interesting, I’ll admit, is that when they’re not together, they’re beautiful.  Which is most of the time, so they gave me that.  I’m a massive fan of the bittersweet, the star crossed, the never-quite-on-the-same-page, the nuance, the “it’s a deeper connection, a deeper love than just romance.”  Thank gosh, it is time for excited thoughts.  Because there is a strong friendship and mutual reliance and helping each other grow, pushing and giving hard truths and encouragement, and yes romance is woven through this but not the genesis and used more in terms of nudging everything along the path.

I love that Alex basically imprints on Izzie.  I love that he loves her the whole time.  But he’s willing to step back.  He may get jealous and resentful and petty and scared and mean.  But those are natural human emotions, Izzie gets them too, and they’re fundamental to his character and through those things he learns and grows.  Izzie doesn’t make him.  She entices him.  Yeah, often directs him, especially at first.  But at some point he’s growing on his own, in fits and starts, in reaction to his own emotions.

For example, when Izzie tells him she slept with George, he gets pissed, but also admits why pretty readily.  And he tells her the truth, remarkably straightforwards.  He reaches out to her a lot.  And she turns him aside a lot.  And he keeps loving.  Even if romance is off the table.  He runs after her a lot.  Sits next to her when she’s upset a lot.  Is understanding a lot.  He’s different with her, and look I’m a fangirl, it’s a trope, I swallow bait line and hook.  Which should be bait hook and line if my vague understanding of fishing is correct.  I fished once, with safety implements, and still cried even as they removed the fish and popped it back into the water.  (Okay I just reread to sort out where I’d gotten too and it’s hook line and sinker.  Statistically someone will probably read this someday, you have my full permission to laugh at me.  Anyway...)

The quintessential moment, the revved to 100, of course being when Izzie is clinging to a dead Denny.  They’re all standing around.  No one even looks surprised with jilted Alex talks to her.  In a really caring way.  And this is still fairly early on, wasn’t watching anything but their scenes but this had to be rare sight eh?  (Mebbe?)  And then he picks her up and sits down holding her and she clings and cries and like symbolism and could essay that but not going to right now because the broad relevant stroke is that Alex loves Izzie selflessly.  And this is the pinpoint core of why I can buy his ending, because he can’t NOT love Izzie.  I don’t think he even wants to stop.  Though he can set it down in his heart and let her go and doesn’t pine.  But he never stops loving her and it’s so many kinds of love imperfectly yet perfecly forged.

Forged.  But also born.  Stars uncrossed.  I have emotions without words and if I try I’ll never get out of it to move on, so moving on.

(Oh, George telling Alex to talk to Izzie because she won’t talk to him about whatever it was.  Isn’t is crazy that Izzie’s emotional squishy bestie goes to the emotionally stunted bad boy to help her because...  it’s an understanding of the two-way Izzie/Alex bond, but also this crazy trust that Alex will show up.)

I love that Izzie isn’t blind to his faults, truly doesn’t like his faults, but has eternal faith for who he is and can be.  She always saw him as someone with walls, once she stumbled on a lose stone and got a glimpse inside.  She knows.  She doesn’t always understand, but she knows.

Slight divergence from that line of thought, but its a great moment when they get together and he’s fairly transparently trying to make sure they’re in a committed relationship by dangling other women in front of her, and she’s a little ticked that he seems to be taking it rudely casually.  Probably a bit of insecurity, but I’d say more that she has a long history of not reading him from the perspective of him loving her.  Ie, 100% not recognizing that telling him about sleeping with George would hurt him.  And doesn’t get it until he comes in and he’s dropped the swagger and it’s a “I know I’m doing something wrong and I don’t know how to do it right so help me” thing.  

(Random memories of Sloan/Don from The Newsroom when she’s crying on the floor and Don comes in a sits next to her.  I wuvs them too.)

I love that she openly leans on him, when he offers support she takes it.  She doesn’t ask why, she accepts it and leans into it and is open to it because she trusts him because she knows him.  The bits where she hates him tend to fall out of romantic issues, but when that’s removed from the equation they’re in sync.  And the thing is, just as caring is fundamental to Alex’s nature, trust is fundamental to Izzie’s.  And those two things weave into each other.  Kinda like rats and the food button.  When Alex reaches out Izzie she honestly accepts it, a “reward.”  So he’s comfortable doing it again, and again.  And when she does rebuff him he’s seen rewards come out enough that he doesn’t just scatter.  And when Izzie trusts him, he rewards her with gentleness and care.  She has the rougher time of it overall, because Alex is more screwed up emotionally, and breaks her trust more often than she rebuffs him, but that’s where Alex’s constant love comes in.  But I cannot recall enough critical moments to have a cohesive proof, so I could be a little off base.

In my head Alex has always loved Izzie more than Izzie loves him, but I think my memory was unfair.  There is a real constancy to Izzie’s affection, though I don’t think she imprinted on Alex as he did on her.  She’s a different person, loves differently, has different issues.  But my longstanding impression is mostly because of Denny.  Who she truly did love, though the qualities of that love deserve exploration which I will not at this time attempt. And Denny loved her.   The whole “side loves along the way” being a trope.  Though usually “it ended in death/deathlike state” is given to the man and so THANK YOU SHONDA.  Thinking of classics like Jane Eyre and Rebecca though I think both were actually crazypants first wives.  And I do think female character’s side guys have a  habit of dying, but it tends to feel more like a plot point to shut the door on continued love, whereas Denny remains a part of Izzie’s life. 

 At any rate, despite superficial similarities, Alex doesn’t hit the trope because his crazypants relationship wasn’t ever really about the woman:  yep Alex got Rebecca, and Rebecca was crazypants, and it was a plot point to get him to the crying.  Rebecca wasn’t love. It was never love.  BUT

She DID, in every way, highlight what needed to be highlighted.  1) That he desperately wants a family.  2) that caring for someone, not just about them, is fundamental to him, (and ties neatly into him caring for Izzie all those sitting on the floor conversations.) and c) it’s not entirely healthy.  Which is ALSO why thrusting his new happy relationship with Izzie into caregiver role is insensitive and undermines the relationship because it only makes sense if we got to see them both happy in the relationship first.  And then we can see the quality of his caregiving change.  But we didn’t.  So bugger it.

I do LOVE how they let almost the whole next season play out he fallout of all that.  Something taken slowly!  We got to explore it.  Did feel a bit drawn out tbh.  But it just emphasizes the weight of it, I guess.  Especially as it was a subplot amongst 100 others.  This was their development for the season.  Which was mostly Alex.  But Izzie’s reactions revealed some things about her as well.  Majorly dancing around laying it out for a close look and I don’t know why.

Favourite moment?  Maybe Izzie putting her hand on Alex’s chest when he’s freaking out and telling him to stop, he doesn’t need to say any more.  Because he’s trying to convince her of something, and she understands.  And the trying to convince is shredding him, and she knows that.  It’s a very loving and accepting “stop.”  She’d already taken charge of the situation, for the good of the patient.  She’d already taken charge because she knew Alex couldn’t handle it, he was too deep in something to see clearly.  And she’s still in charge.  She doesn’t break down and cry for him, or try to comfort him, he’s been thrown back into childhood and PTSD might literally be at play and what he needs, and she understands, is someone he can trust, who’s calm and gentle but strong and solid, to say it’s okay.  It’s going to be okay.  You don’t have to carry this on your own.  We have it now.  Because when we’re little and in over our heads what we want and what we need is an adult to take the burden.  And still the physical contact is comforting, her tone of voice reassuring.  She creates a space where he can feel safe and heard.

Ugh, rewatching, and we’re watching him literally devolve.  Stages of grief ya’ll.  He’s using every tactic to try and get what he thinks he needs: being able to take care of Rebecca.  He’s in denial that anything is wrong.  He gets angry when Izzie grabs him, to the point of threatening to hit her (though it’s fighting words and not real threat, and Izzie totally knows that.)  He dives into bargaining.  She’ll be okay if he can take care of her.  He can do it.  He tries to convince her it’s true.

By the time he gets home it’s depression.  Not just Rebecca, but about his mom.  And Izzie approaches him differently.  In the hospital it was immediate and she was “in charge,” and needed to be in all facets, but at home, with the situation taken care of, she’s a friend.  An equal.  Which is what he needs right now.  His sticking point later is the crying, so I kinda wonder how he’d react just to having told her about taking care of his mom as a kid.  Right at the start he told that kid about his dad, (dad beating up his mom and him beating up his dad) while Izzie was within listening distance and didn’t seem fussed.  But it’s ultimately a story about him being manly and protecting his mom physically.  Which would be why it’s several seasons in before this crops up - waaay more intimate information.  Probably all lumped into one, with the crying as shorthand.  And mostly that his past is a fact, it’s his emotions he wants to keep private and deny.

He clearly did try to drown his emotions with sex.  I’m not sure it would have worked with a random girl because he’s way too close to crying to do much of anything.  And obviously doesn’t work with Izzie because sex is apparently emotional intimacy and I guess comfort for men moreso than women, but it plays out as a desperate attempt to get comfort in a safer way.  Bargaining again, I suppose.  “Have sex and will be fine tomorrow.”  But, as noted, he doesn’t get that far because it’s too heavy and he rather quickly is just sobbing.

Which is a lovely parallel to holding Izzie while she cried on him after Denny died.  Though Izzie had no qualms and no massive emotional recoil because emotions and vulnerability are normalized for females Izzie is a particularly emotional person.  And an inverse of all the times Izzie is an emotional wreck and Alex sits down besides her and offers her support and understanding.

Could also argue that Izzie just saying “I’m sorry... About Rebecca.  And your mom” - it’s an emotionally intimate moment.  Of understanding.  She’s acknowledging the two situations, and isn’t trying to do anything about them, explain or push or anything else.  Just make him feel understood and not alone and sex is the way he can respond to that.  How to process that in a way that feels manly to him?  Also notably Izzie does seem to be going with it, and it’s aborted because he starts sobbing.  And is still saying “Please” which is amazing, because he totally was never asking Izzie to just sleep with him.  He wants to make it stop - the pain, emotions, probably reliving memories.  But also... stages of grief.  He needs to feel it, so he can accept it.  He really just needs to cry, and grieve, and not be alone.

And it’s like... this is where their love story feels epic because it would look so different if they didn’t have all the levels and layers of love.  Take out the romantic/sexual aspect.  Take out the friendship.  The trust.  The family.  Take out anything and this can’t play out.

Who didn’t love moments like Alex explaining to Bernedette Peters that men sometimes need to protect their manliness in the eyes of the woman they love.  And they’ll do shit things to protect that manliness, but it’s because they care.  Which is obviously idiotic and while romantic on screen is very much not so in real life, but this is fiction so hey ho.  It’s such a wonderful foil.  Because the situation here was not that Alex took his pain elsewhere to protect Izzie’s opinion, but that Alex completely and for a long time shut Izzie out to protect his manliness, which is entirely counterproductive but the only option he could see.  He minimizes his experience as a “bad night.”  (I mean, if you remove all the adjectives, he’s not wrong.) He’s protecting his own sense of manliness to himself.  He doesn’t like feeling that vulnerable.  He let Izzie get too close.  He’s afraid.  It’s all a tangle.  And it pays off when they come back together and he’s willing to be more vulnerable, almost, and then enthusiastically, happy to be.

*But it does reference when he slept with Olivia when he failed his boards.  So yeah, he’s done it literally too.

Backing up a step to revisit season 5.  And actually they start out close.  They’re all out in the cold waiting to greet patients and Alex grabs a blanket for her.  He’s not irritated that Izzie keeps asking how he’s doing, just obviously in a bit of personal denial.  And they’re totally messing around and lighthearted and look at each other with their heads really close and it begs some questions about the interim, though I guess they just haven’t talked about it deeper than “are you okay.”  And per the Izzie/Meredith convo I guess they didn’t continue having sex (probably didn’t have sex that night either).  Though the way Izzie looks at him as he leaves, she’s totally concerned that he’s not dealing with it.

Ah yes, forgot - so they just kept his breakdown unremarked upon, the superficial checking in is situational because Rebecca is a fact.  They don’t talk about it, it’s fine.  Pretending it did not happen.  But it’s as soon as Alex thinks Izzie told Meredith about it that it goes pear shaped.  It’s funny that his issue is the crying and he’s the one that told Meredith, but thematically Izzie saying “he’s opening up to me” is sorta the same.  Also awww that even as she labels them friends, there’s this little glow inside her that they got closer.  Emotional intimacy, what’s life without it eh?

So also 100% it’s high on Alex’s mind.  That he did it, and so too that Izzie could betray him and tell others.  Their relationship is so beautifully fragile in that short interim.  It’s this little bubble where he’s okay that he was vulnerable with Izzie because she accepted it and isn’t making a big deal about it.  And he does feel super close to her.  But he can’t take anyone else seeing him in a non-manly light.  For himself, and it works in terms of Izzie too if it’s an inside/outside situation.  I’m a bit stuck and going in circles.  If Izzie tells, then Izzie isn’t taking it seriously?  Doesn’t understand him?  I don’t think he’s even angry at her, if he looks weak to others then she’ll come to see him as weak?  Halp, stuck.

Also so, I’ve seen it remarked upon that Izzie tends to forgive Alex when she maybe shouldn’t.  But part of forgiveness can come from understanding the other person.  Doesn’t have to be, especially for little stuff.  But for big stuff?

Oh, and so weird but kinda cool that right after that rather self-aware conversation with Peters, he specifically lets Izzy see him with another woman.  Were those scenes meant to be inverted?  Or is he going into this eyes wide open?  Trying to prove something?  He’s hurting her though, is it intentional?  Because cheating, by nature, is secretive, your person doesn’t know so you’re not hurting them directly, though of course when they find out it blows up.  But the intention to wound is not there, it’s an escape.  Proving that he’s really fine and back to his old self?  They are not sleeping together so this isn’t cheating.

And even after that Izzy just shrugged it off.  Popped in to tell him they maybe are getting kicked out, tries to get an apartment with him.  She’s holding on to their closeness and friendship, despite him being prickly.  And then... he smacks her or whatever they were doing which is back to flirty, and not meaningful but notably guides her out of the elevator before him.  Though her barb about STD did hit him.   Maybe he was trying to figure out how to stop being rude at her, and her continued friendliness was bufffer space until he could?  He does say hello at the end, but who was she talking to about having no one?

It does bring up an interesting insight.  It is true bout not something I thought about, that Izzie could be lonely, and actually does get as much out of their relationship as Alex ever did.  They are incredibly close.  And I think George might be married at this point, and thus no longer her “person”?

And then into the cryptic speak about them, while the father/son organ musical chair thing was happening.  He’s looking over his shoulder at her, glances up, unspoken words yadda yadda.  Follows her out into the hall when she leaves.  The freeze out is shorter than I remember, but look, they kinda always keep communicating because freeze outs do not feel right.  And I’ve moved to a blow by blow but Alex is trying to talk profession, and Izzie doublespeaks the “emotionally stunted” and he physically recoils and stutters like “yeah but no, that’s not what we’re talking about” and yet is now there and talking about them too.  “Okay, ... I”m trying to be-  I am, but this” WHAT is he trying to be/is???  Trying to not be emotionally stunted.  Is emotionally stunted (or doubling down on trying?)

This is just such a beautiful conversation.  Because Izzie IS emotional and caring but she has a mean backhand.  Pettiness, ultimatum, she can smack back as hard as anyone smacks her.  And she’s coming from a totally reasonable place, because he’s going hot and cold on her.  And you can see that it affects him, and that falls out from that same pattern where he’s trying to tell her somehing and she’s not putting in a ton of effort to figure out what he’s saying, but is focused on her own needs and thoughts.  ‘Cuz she’s hearing something like “give it up, you’re not going to get what you want out of me.”  And he’s trying to say “I’m afraid I can’t be what you need, because I svck, please don’t make me try and fail.”

And they’re convo through parallels continues, Izzie calls Alex broken and is like “okay I do it your way my caring for you is pointless and it’s all fine.”   Dad calls for son while kinda dying.  I know they claimed different thought process but didn’t Alex call for Izzie when he was shot?  And the payout from the series of exchanges: Alex is yelling at his standin to just step up and show he cares.  With a hefty does of potential regret.  It’s a 180, hoping that the kid does love his day, as well as getting emotionally invested.  His relationship with his father isn’t mentioned, not sure if it’s meant to play into this, because he has previously acknowledged that he regrets losing his father completely.

(But then 10 seconds later she’s going to go crazy and by avoiding treatment it’s kinda like trying to kill herself and just... poor taste writers, poor taste.)

Cue a moment where Izzie knows what he’s trying to say and rewards it.

Enter Izzie being a little obtuse, I know I covered this but ending my personal cannon with them getting together - Alex literally says “are we going steady.”  He’s literally saying “you tell me yes or no, and I will do that.”  Of course he’s trying to say “I don’t know if you’re serious and I want to be please clarify and reassure” but one of those literal ones should have been enough.  But then Izzie does always push him, not always intentionally, to be a little more direct, a little more vulnerable, trust her a little more.  And the result is sooooo adorable!

And brings to mind when Izzie was trying to ask him out for the first time.  And it went a tiny bit screwy and Alex flips it and asks her out.

There’s just so much awesome.  *sobs*  And there’s probably awesome in the cancer storyline too but I do not feel I can trust it and also it’s going to run full into Izzie being lame and leaving and all character development out the window?  And I DO NOT want to see her trying to come back and Alex saying No.  Because what will I see in the middle that gets them there?  They always say yes.  Eventually.  And season 16 when JC is leaving the show is a bit on the long side, even if I ignore the details of the intervening years.

Throwing everything at the wall and maybe I’ll be done with dumping or can at least refine things.  It’s the little speech I’ve only read and don’t want to hear bcause not sure how he did his line-read, but when he describes how he imagines Izzie’s life.  In how much detail, how much he wants for her, what he knows she’s capable of building.  He’s saying it to Jo and I’m uncomfortable with the idea he loves her, even if the letter to her does leak a “love you, in love with Izzie,” and I’m fine with Izzie loving Denny and don’t find it a problem Jo is still alive because I don’t see Alex going back but the thing where if he looks her in the eye he won’t return to Izzie and the kids is upsetting.  And it’s just the kids and insta-family which is enticing.  I mean, he’s not going to tell wife he’s leaving that he’s always loved his ex in a different way or anything.  But he’s also not lying.  He does mention to Meredith that he can’t go back to Seattle.  He’d stay with Jo then out of...  ?  Halp.  The best I got is he’s currently in a dream and if he goes back to his life, where he was happy, then he’ll lose the dream and it will disappear on him?

Slightly nicer is the elsewhere expressed (Meredith) idea that he’d set Izzie as unreachable.  Thus, in line with what he told Jo, he didn’t want to contact her because he didn’t want to make it worse for himself, and his happiness comparison was completely excluding himself from the possibility of being part of Izzie’s life.  It’s all happiness of them individually, not together.  But yes, he always wanted to reach out, wanted to hear her voice and he never had an excuse?  No excuse but curiousity, and that wasn’t enough to take a chance, but this was an excuse and he took it.  

And the idea that he knows the right thing is to stay in Seattle, and being with Izzie and the kids is crazy, but it’s what makes him happiest, where he belongs.  Meredith’s letter read first, so in that light, he’s overexplaining to Jo.  Also exposition.  References that conversation about his mental picture of Izzie, which I think was in the context of Jo questioning his feelings for Izzie.  It scared him because...  ?  He focuses on the kids.  It’s a little at odds with doing this for him, and a little suddenly ignoring the fact that he’s In Love with Izzie and I guess his mental image for Izzie was also his dream life and he gave it to her.  Though where he thought her kids came from is possibly an oversight.  Adoption?

Because it makes it sound like he’s torn between new and old love but the old love has is kids and wins.  It’s a free pass to perfection.  But he imagined a “whole life” for her, which is a massive investment opf time and emotional energy on someone he hasn’t seen in forever.  I mean thinking well for an ex is al well and good but this sounds a bit beyond that, where she’s not a part of his life but a part of HIS life, believing she’s okay makes everything okay.

I am also willing to take up arms and claim that “I can’t look you in the eye because I wouldt be able to walk away...” doesn’t mean walk away from Jo, but walk away from Izzie.  But that’s kinda tenuous.  It just... it sounds like if he sees Jo he won’t be able to leave her, which puts her above Izzie (and even the kids, though he can still be in their lives) and that contradicts other statements, or at least their implications .

Though fair point that there’s a metric of who you’ll give up everything for.  Izzie would for Denny.  In a sense, I hear Meredith got her back in the Seattle hospital and she declined out of respect for Alex’s feelings.  So in a way she gave up her life for Alex.  And never reached out to him but did respond when he did.  She picked up the phone.  Maybe not knowing who it was, or they all kept their own phones.  And Alex gave it all up for Izzie+kids.  I want to know he’d give it all up for Izzie alone, and the life they could have had.

Or is it that he wouldn’t be able to leave Jo because, as noted to Meredith, it’s the right thing to stay in Seattle.  And he’s become a man who does the right thing.  And sometimes the right thing isn’t what we truly want, and to get that we have to be selfish.  He one perfect thing is in Kansas.  And it’s the family.  It’s a family with Izzie.  And his kids.  It’s the whole package.  If it wasn’t Izzie, the kids wouldn’t be enough?  Also indicates that even with Jo was not exactly where he should be.

I’m also going with “some clues in various directions to satisfy various viewers but really offending most of them because this is all 10 years ago and people are newer viewers or forgot or hated Izzie when she left etc.”  But preponderance of evidence leans in favour of this choosing what makes him happiest over what makes him happy.  

ETA: he has a life for Izzie in his head because if she’s not happy, he can’t leave her where she is.  He sees her as an optimist, the opposite of him and good things happen when you lean in that direction.  He imagines her somewhere woody because that’s where they lived when they were married.

ETA2: Izzie didn’t notice Alex wanted to be exclusive.  Because Izzie sees the good in him, but she doesn’t try to justify or explain things.  She takes him at face value (mostly, she knows superficial crabbiness is just an unpleasant personality trait.)  Until/unless she has very good evidence to he contrary.  And THAT is why he has to take an active role and go to her.  He does have to work for the relationship.

(Briefly skipped to a scene in season 6 (avoiding that season) and he actually says “I can’t be your nurse” which is so much character growth.  Because I was afraid he’d gone full out into caregiver mode, which is not healthy for either of them.  He’s protecting himself, but also pushing her to face up.)

CODAS

Watched Alex calling for/hallucinating Izzie when shot.  Maybe it’s a Miranda thing?  After freaking out right after she died, about how he can’t live without her, his breakup speech was essentially about how he realized he could survive without her.  He doesn’t need her like that.  And he was really hurt by the really shitty thing she did, leaving him. Thus valid conclusion that they should part ways and he’s not caught in the love/hate.  But at some point after that, per hallucination conversation, he really wants her to...  come back for him.  To love him enough to not be able to stay away and come back for him it’s funny because the best way for her to love him was the respect his wishes and not come back.  I mean she doesn’t even say anything after he asks that.  

Interesting point “we married...”  It’s a promise.  He starts with “I’m sorry.”  His breakup speech to her - rehearsed?  He’s speaking from love and hate all blended and I think he’s a lot more honest and self aware, and he’s almost always been honest with Izzie.  So his dying speech was also fear based?  He’s scared, he’s in shock, like, physical shock.  To when is his mind taking him?  It’s natural to have regrets after a painful but necessary breakup.  It’s been months but that’s still recent enough.  So on the whole, inconclusive except yeah, he isn’t over her, but he admits during their breakup that he loves her “so much.”

Also love his “frozen together in time... and now we’re not.”  They’ve both grown and changed, and so has their relationship, but there connection hasn’t.  That hasn’t changed.  

So back to his Izzie speech, which is meaningful intentionally as in 300th episode, where years later he was wondering still about her, enough to create a good life for her.  A happy, rich and full life.  He imagines it clearly and deeply enough to add smell to it.  Smell is heavily linked to memory and emotion.

As happy as he is with Jo.  Maybe it’s contentment?  Something missing for each of them but not something he consciously knows?  Meh.  Back to frozen.  He has an image, a full rich image of her and her life.  It’s immersive but static, a snapshot.  And the him who looks at that snapshot is the same him over time.  

Letter to Meredith.  “It’s about me.”  Which is sorta back to breakup speech.  It was about him, ending the relationship.  He didn’t deserve to be left.  And this is about him, not leaving Izzie+kids.  There’s movement and beauty in this.

Meredith/Alex talking true love.  So I’m torn.  Jo refused his proposal, and the question is if you only get one true love.  Did he think Jo was a true love, and if she refuses him it’s not?  Or is he hoping that true love happens after they’re married?  Given the constancy of his love for Izzie, from fairly early on, even if he didn’t call it that at the time I’m pretty sure it’s indisputedly much earlier than marriage, and she turned him down all the time, which would forestall true love worse, right?  Can’t say as I’m not watching any Jo/Alex, cannot will not no need don’t gotta.

[visual-explorxtion]

A Date With Rebecca [Rebecca Chambers x Reader] - One Shot

Summary: Taking your favourite girl on a date. Go see her favourite movie, have a candlelit dinner, take a short stroll. What more can you ask for?

A/N: Looking for some wholesome Rebecca content? Then you’ve come to the right place. Originally, I’ve planned to make this 1.5k words or less but somehow I kept adding more and more details to the story. Is it a fluff fic? Yes. Is it filled with cliché plots? Also, yes. Sometimes, cliché stuff are pretty wholesome. Bonus content if you read the whole fic ;)

Word Count: 2.7K

Hairstyle? Check. Outfit? Check. Time? You peered up from your full-length mirror and glanced at the analogue clock on the wall. The ticking dish points to 6:15 pm. Perfect, you still got time before picking up your lovely date, Rebecca. You've planned a surprise date night for her for weeks now. Only up until recently, she finally agreed and cleared up her schedule. Joy would be an understatement to describe how you are feeling right now, nevertheless, joy is the only thing that's coursing through your body. Ping! The screen of your phone illuminated in blue, revealing a text sent by your date.

'Hey! I'm on my way to our meet up point. I'll see you in 10 minutes x :)'

The message made your heart melt into a pool of jello, she even left a little kiss and a smiley face at the end. This made you even more excited to meet her, the sooner the better. With no time to lose, you grab your old-fashion helmet from the console table, reviewing yourself one last time before exiting the apartment. Keys to your scooter in your fist, you stick it in the ignition and the little yellow hunk of junk sputter to life. You smile to yourself and pray that your only transportation doesn't fail on you tonight. Index finger double tapping on the oil gauge disk displaying petrol 3/4 of the way full, tucking your hair neatly inside the helmet then you set off.

Round the corner and through the bustling streets of downtown, you parked your bike just a couple of shops down from where you're meeting Rebecca. Every step you take seems like you're walking on air, the bounce in your steps lights up every way of your path, leading you right to her. There, she stands under the fairy lights- strung from one side of the patio to the other wrapping around the redwood columns- waiting for your arrival just outside of her favourite cafe, 'Dans le bleu'. From the moment she saw you, her sweet smile has taken over her perfectly shaped face and time slows down around you as you take in the impression of her. Her hair twinkles under the warm white glow, eyes crinkled as she beams; draped in a celadon green vintage flare dress, fitted waistband hugging against her slender waist, she is your angel at heart even if she denies it.

"Hey, you look beautiful tonight." you resist the urge to pull her into your arms even with the whole world watching.

"You don't look so bad yourself. Did you style your hair? It looks great." she praised. "Should we go to eat? I think Bleu just flipped to their bar menu and I'm kinda craving pasta right now."

"Actually...I have something else planned. It's only 6:30 and I think it's still kinda early for dinner, so I have something else planned instead." you smiled mischievously.

"Oh no. What deathly things have you got planned for me." Rebecca's face drained as you chuckled at her expression.

"I'm not telling you, it's a surprise." you flashed a smug grin. "Come on, we'll be late." You grabbed her hand and tangle your fingers with hers. The warmth of her palm radiates onto yours and you can feel the nervousness and sweat running through with each beat of her pulse. But all of that did not bother you. You held her hand tighter even with the sweat binding both hands, you love her too much that you just accept every part of her.

After 15 minutes of waltzing through the artificially lit avenue, you and Rebecca both arrived at an inconspicuous movie theatre. "The cinema? But it doesn't even look like it’s in business." Rebecca frown.

The cinema looks a little out of place compared to the rest of the street. The creamy white façade has witnessed the testimony of time and history, all cracked and shedding off little pieces. But, the neon sign still glows ominously in the shade of red, the building itself it's illuminated with a standalone rustic street lamp and a retro letterbox that's yellowing with age, only one film is showing in bold letters.

"...Roman Holiday? Oh my gosh! D-did you do this?" she's dying to know as curiosity shimmers from her eyes.

"I have my ways." you winked and she playfully slaps your arm to return the gesture.

Upon entering the building, the scenery was so drastically different that you'd almost thought you stepped back in time. Or walked into a Wes Anderson movie set. Your feet landed on the carpet that was once plush and fluffy, vermillion red and sunset orange shades of intricate patterns stretched across the main entrance. The ticket booth stands in the centre of the hall with a two-tier crystal chandelier hanging above on the high rise ceiling. The leather lounge chairs face one another on either side, beige wrinkles and creases etched onto the chestnut seats with time. The pair of you gradually take in the scenery but was soon greeted by the sweet and savoury scent of popcorn. Rebecca's eye lit up with delight.

"Wait here, I'll get us popcorn." Swiftly, you turned and Rebecca's gaze follows. She watches intently as you carry two bags full of popcorn from the kiosk. Her eyes widened in bewilderment. "I didn't know which one you want so I got both." you shrug as she shakes her head in disbelief.

"The film's about to start. Let's go."

You and Rebecca found your seats with ease, considering the fact that only a dozen of people are here for this movie, scattered across the theatre in various age groups, even though you'd thought about having this screening just for the two of you instead. The lights went dim, shading your eyes in pitch blackness, then the screen comes on. The unfamiliar brightness made you squint your eyes as you shield them and blinked several times to get used to the luminosity. Actors appear in black and white, the deliverance of dialogues flows through the auditorium but not to your ears. Your eyes admire Rebecca as she’s fixated on the film. Adoration and excitement glisten in her soul, just like stars, watching this film as if it's the first time. As the story continues to play, the protagonists tour the city of Rome on a scruffy moped, her arms around his waist, riding away in this romantic getaway. You held Rebecca's hand laying on the velvet armrest, a little shock sent up her arm and she looked at your conjoined hands then up to your rosy gaze. Someday, you'd hope to take her to Rome, under the ray of the summer sun, riding on the same vintage moped and reenact the same scene in front of our very own eyes.

"That was such a good film! I haven't had this much fun in so long, I almost forgot what it feels like." she giggles. "I bet I'm going to have a sweet dream tonight."

"You'd think our date ends here? Just after one movie?" you blinked. "Honey, I'm taking you out on a date, not a movie night. We can go anywhere and do anything you want, just say the word."

Rebecca paused. "Anything?"

"Anything," you answered.

Her stomach grumbles and she laughs. "I think the first thing I want is dinner."

You chuckled along. "I think so too. You said you want pasta, right? I know just the place."

Leaving the cinema with the night claiming the light, Rebecca's hand hasn't left yours since halfway through the film, nor does she have the intention to. Everything just felt natural, like puzzle pieces falling in the right place. As you lead the way, a darkened cobbled street came into view as both of you turn a corner, Rebecca couldn't shake off the feeling of uneasiness.

"A-are you sure this is the right way?" she stammers.

"Trust me. I am 100% sure," you reassure her.

"B-but what if-"

"Ah, we're here!" you voice made Rebecca jolt.

She peeked out from behind your right shoulder, quizzical by what she's seeing whilst tugging on your sleeve, she asked, "A hole in the wall? That was a bit anticlimactic..." a hint of disappointment seeps through.

"Dear, you shouldn't judge a book by its cover. I thought you taught me that." you tease. Her face pouts but you still find her cute no matter what.

You push the wooden front door which made a stifling groan. Inside, the little restaurant is rustic and oddly homey. Photographs hung on the wall, from monotones transitioning to technicolour, each photograph tells its own story and heartfelt emotions behind it. Your eyes scan each decoration as you move further into the place, bits and pieces collected from around the world and written messages left by visiting customers. The reserved table is located in a less crowded area behind a half wall, just overlooking the rest of the room, an ambience mood under the candlelit atmosphere. Quiet chit-chats and conversions turn to waves of laughter, feeling content in each other's company as dinner went by in a flash. Spending time with Rebecca is every second well spent.

"I hope you still got room for dessert."

"I think you're underestimating my stomach's capacity." she returns the jab.

Flipping between pages, indecisive, Rebecca bites her bottom lip as her finger scans through the list of desserts, unawarely emitting soft 'umm's and 'eh's from her lips, tinted with a glossy shade of chilli red. Trying hard not to laugh at her child-like indecisiveness caused by this inconvenience, to which her brows begun knitting together bit by bit, the corner of your lips can't help but slowly crawled upwards. All the dessert dilemma ended with her favourite, Baked Alaska. The snowy white miniature mountain engulfed in a sea of blue flames, it's a form of entertainment in the shape of a dessert. You and Rebecca filled your stomachs to the brim with food, thus, this concludes the dinner segment you have planned for her.

The touch of the summer breeze caressed your face under the starry night, footsteps in sync with one another as the night winds down with a stroll into empty, midnight street. Silence flows through the air, except for the distant sound of traffic and Rebecca's angelic voice. Shop windows reflect the pair of you, illuminated by neon lights, you wish this moment could last forever. Music could be heard from afar which prompted the curiosity within Rebecca as she ran ahead to listen to the tune more clearly. The playing tune came from a speaker located just outside of the entrance of the theatre. An all-time classic 'Singing in the Rain'. The cheerful melodic song takes the centre stage as the vacant street acts as their audience. Rebecca looks at you with devious gaze in her eyes. You have a bad feeling in your gut as you can almost see the thought that runs in her mind. You shook your head.

"Oh, come on! You promised that I can do anything I want. Please?"

She gave you those pleading puppy eyes, a critical hit to your heart. You battle with your internal self but the latter isn't any good with arguments. You sigh and agreed. Rebecca jumped up in celebration of her little victory and took you by your hand and lead you to the spotlight. Hands behind her back, tapping one foot out to her right; heel, toe, heel and step. Knowing your cue, you followed. With the opposite foot, she repeats the same moves, gliding in the opposite direction and you do the same. One foot at a time, she hops with airy steps with arms flutter at her sides as she glides her footwork in the figure of eight, in time with the beat. Pushing her foot out with pointed toes, her leg lightly sweeps across the concrete floor as she shifts her weight and twirls on the spot. Her matte satin dress spins in the same direction, the seams floats up in a graceful manner as it whirls around like a maypole but it's gravitational pull delays when Rebecca halts to an end with a croisé pose as the song fades.

Mesmerised by the sight of her dance, you stand on the spot and gawk with your jaw hanging wide. Before you can react with applause, she extends out a hand to ask for yours in return. You happily accepted her touch with the heat of your palm. Fingertips tenderly brushed against her shoulder blades and even the slightest touch her skin can make your heart race a thousand beats per minute. With her hand clasped on your waist, she takes the lead. The incandescent bulb echos in her emerald eyes, twinkling like stardusts; each step she takes, you follow along. Moving to the adagio rhythm, Elvis whispering softly about hopelessly falling in love with somebody, swaying side to side in front of the dazzling theatre with half the city fast asleep. You wish the city could watch as both of you dance in the moonlight, but you need no audience, as Rebecca is your whole world. Prompting her right hand, she twirls for you once more, making a long-lasting image imprinted into your memory. Hands delicately raising the edge of her skirt with the pinky finger extended out for emphasise, she dips into a curtsy bowed gracefully towards you and you do so returning the politeness also as graciously as possible.

All seriousness suddenly turns into a bellow of laughter filling up the darkness and drowning out the music. The hilarity persisted until both your stomach muscles ache with a fiery pain and eyes filled to the brink with tears of joy.

"Alright, lemme take you home."

She nodded with a soft smile, strolling together once more, hand in hand. Wasn't long until you looped back to where you've parked your transport. Rebecca eyes the yellow, barely-holding-it-together machinery with uncertainty.

"A...vespa. Can you please make sure I get home in one piece?" she jest.

"Hey! This baby is as safe as a house." you shift just out of earshot and murmur, "Don't listen to her, baby."

"You should get an electric one. You know, to help save the planet."

"Alright, alright...Dr Chambers." she huffs in response.

Tucking strands of hair back into you hat of safety, you popped open the seat, revealing yet another helmet. This one, a cream coloured shell lined with a retro red-blue stripe inspired by 60s aesthetic. You bought this weeks before the date and with the intention that she'll be the only designated passenger. Rebecca picks up the helmet and paused, eyes gazing attentively at it. Internally, you start to panic. Is it too much? Does she hate it? You swallowed hard; your lips quiver as you were about to speak, she cups your cheek as the warmth of her palm spreads before you could register it her lips are pressed onto yours, taking you in by astonishment. Your hands instinctively supported her waist as her body leaned against you on tiptoes, then she pulled away. The kiss only lasted a few seconds, but the lingering feeling felt forever. Still living in a daze, she calls out.

"Are you still going to drive me home?"

You snapped out of your daydream and found her already seated on the backside of the Vespa. Gleefully, you skipped your way to the driver's side, almost crashed landed onto the seat, still giggling stupidly to yourself. Sometimes, action speaks louder than words. And that kiss was all you needed. Ignition on, goggles strapped to your face, you yell;

"Hold on tight, babydoll."

The back tire squeals as you take off. Rebecca clutches your midriff for the sake of her life as you race into the twilight full of adrenaline. Engine roaring in the dead of the night amidst the summer wind streamlining around you, streetlights began to form in a strip of fluorescent lines. Her chin rests on your shoulder, squeezing you ever so tighter as the passing signs and billboards reflect off her visor, in shades of pink and purple hue, wondering if she's existing in a virtual dream state. Even though the music had already stopped playing for the both of you, this was once in a lifetime experience that you will remember for eternity.

-----

Bonus:

Love ya ☆

[theyearoftheking]

Book Twenty-Four: The Eyes of the Dragon

“His mother pointed from GOD to DOG. “These are the two natures of man,” she said. “Never forget them, because someday you’ll be King and Kings grow up to be great and tall- as great and tall as dragons in their ninth moltings.” 

I don’t really have much of a process when it comes to this blog, except reading all the books in chronological order, and making sure I have at least the next two books on my shelf. Abibliophobia... the fear of running out of books... it’s a real thing, kids. 

I was surprised to find a new(ish) copy of The Eyes of the Dragon on my bookshelf. I had never read it... the husband hasn’t read it since grade school... neither of us could remember buying it. But there it was, with yellowed pages and an un-cracked spine, just waiting to be devoured. Or something. 

I would not say I devoured this book. And I have a friend who is going to light me up for this review (sorry, WP); but I thought The Eyes of the Dragon was a watered down GRRM novel. Like, suuuuper watered down because the mass market paperback was only 380 pages with fairly large text.

The only thing that was remotely interesting about this book was the Dark Tower seeds it sowed. First, you’ve got King Roland, even though he’s a far cry from Roland of Gilead. King Roland is pretty much the Robert Baratheon of Delain. He’s fat, bowlegged, usually drunk, super into hunting (he killed a dragon once!), and shitty in bed. As far as being a king, he’s neither impressive nor a total snore. He just is. Much like this blog, he’s a solid C+.

In GOT, Baratheon had a pretty questionable small council: Grand Maester Pycelle, Petyr Baelish, and Varys to name a few. Likewise, Roland has Flagg. I don’t know if it’s Randall Flagg, or some other guy who just shares the same last name; he’s only ever referred to as Flagg. But he’s a wicked magician. Imagine Qyburn, except younger and craftier. My apologies, I didn’t mean for this to devolve into a Game of Thrones discussion, but here we are! 

Roland was married to Sasha, and they had two sons: Peter and Thomas. As far as we know, Sasha was NOT having sex with her brother, so the GOT comparisons end here. But Sasha was murdered during childbirth with Thomas (two guesses who murdered her); and Roland becomes even more ineffective after that. 

Peter is the golden son everyone loves, and they can’t wait for him to succeed his father. Thomas is as mediocre as his father, and wah-wah-wah... Daddy never loved him as much as his perfect brother. Eye roll. Flagg sees his opening and goes for it. He shows Thomas a hidden room in the castle where he can spy on his father’s chambers via (wait for it) “the eyes of the dragon”. Roland had killed a dragon in his youth, and had it mounted in his chambers. You could go into this hidden room, and spy via the eye holes. Clever, right? 

So, Flagg poisons Roland with a glass of wine, and Thomas happens to see it. But he also kind of talks himself out of what he saw. He’s a weak ass bitch. Flagg is smart enough to make it appear Peter had poisoned his father in an attempt to take the throne. Peter is arrested, convicted, and stashed up in The Needle, a tall ass tower where the convicts are held. 

Thomas becomes king, has no idea what the hell he’s doing, and begs Flagg to be his advisor. 

Flagg convinces Thomas to tax the hell out of farmers, which Thomas does, and everyone pretty much hates him. The stress of the job is getting to him, so he drinks too much, and can’t sleep at night. Thomas and I are pretty much the same person these days.

Meanwhile, up in The Needle, Peter finds a locket and a note from a former inmate, claiming Flagg also set him up for a crime he didn’t convict. Peter is pissed, and decides to plot his escape. He takes several threads out of his napkin at each meal, and uses a tiny, doll-sized weaving loom to weave them together. 

Several. Threads. At. A. Time. 

This takes him years. Literal YEARS. He’s far more patient than I am. I would have just kept the napkins, tied them together and used them to repel down the side of The Needle. But Peter was too worried people would notice the napkins were missing. He shouldn’t have worried; there was an entire room filled with napkins. No one would have noticed. Sweet irony. 

While Peter spends his days using a dollhouse sized weaving loom, and his brother drinks his way to cirrhosis; Peter’s friends and allies are convinced of his innocence, and work to free him from The Needle. Two of his allies are Ben and Naomi... named for Steve’s daughter Naomi, and Peter Straub’s son Ben. So that was kind of fun. The book ends with them married... which did not happen in real life. 

The book ends in a climactic chase where the allies and Flagg are in a race to either free Peter from The Needle, or kill him. It ultimately ends in two tons of irony. Or napkins. I’ll let you decide. All and all, it ended much happier than any GOT book/episode ever did. So there’s that? 

While Flagg’s true identity was never revealed (Randall or Random), the book ended with Thomas declaring, “He’s out there somewhere. In this world or in some other, he’s out there. I know it; I feel his poison in the wind. He got away from us at the last second. You all know it, and I do, too. I would find him and kill him. I would avenge our father and make up for my own great sin...” So, that’s a pretty sweet way to tie Flagg into all the other villainous roles throughout the Steve universe. 

One other Dark Tower reference... there’s mention of Rhiannon the Dark Witch of the Coos. Um. Anyone who has Wizard and Glass memorized knows all about Rhea of the Coos. So there’s that. 

Obviously no Wisconsin mentions, but that’s cool. 

The book was solidly okay. At least it was short, and I got to show my true nerd skills by comparing King Roland to Robert Baratheon. This little lady would be supes proud of me...

The best. Truly. 

Total Wisconsin Mentions: 16

Total Dark Tower References: 19

Book Grade: C+

Rebecca’s Definitive Ranking of Stephen King Books

The Talisman: A+

Different Seasons: A+

It: A+

The Shining: A-

The Stand: A-

Skeleton Crew: B+

The Dead Zone: B+

‘Salem’s Lot: B+

Carrie: B+

Creepshow: B+

Cycle of the Werewolf: B-

Danse Macabre: B-

The Running Man: C+

Thinner: C+

The Eyes of the Dragon: C+

The Long Walk: C+

The Gunslinger: C+

Pet Sematary: C+

Firestarter: C+

Rage: C

Cujo: C-

Nightshift: C-

Roadwork: D

Christine: D

Next up is Misery, which my aunt pointed out is a terrible book to read during quarantine. I disagree, it makes me appreciate my roommates more. Even if I have to put headphones on and force them out of the house so I can get writing done. 

Until next time, Long Days & Pleasant Nights,

Rebecca

[dearoldtuxedo]

The Love Interest

In 2017, Taft Studios hired a new screenwriter for their popular, and long-running show, The Banana Splits. Her name was Sammie Satterlee, and ever since they recruited her on the staff, she impressed the audience with her diversed setting scenarios. 

Some new episodes took up morals that are rarely explored among children, and needed to be talked about more. The Sour Grape girls were given more personalities, rather than being reduced to cute, sassy dolls. She made Bingo and Drooper explicitly POC coded, so that minority children can see themselves in their favorite characters, even allowing some POC to guest star on the show. Bingo spoke Spanish occasionally, and Drooper celebrated Kwanzaa for a holiday themed episode. Stevie was also given a decent dose of character development.

Then, at that year, 2018, Sammie was ready to take on a new challenge: Introduce an LGBTQ+ character. Around this generation, a lot of children's media has been accepting of queer themes. The whole purpose was to help kids acknowledge that queer romance is just the same as the typical heterosexual romance. There is nothing inherently sexual about it.

Plus, Sammie happened to be queer herself. She grew up loving The Banana Splits throughout her childhood, and is still a fan to this day. She also grew up around a lot of homophobia at that time. Projecting sexualities/trans identities onto characters is a method of feeling more accepting, more valid. The same method queer kids on the internet use "headcanons" for. Queer children deserve representation. Sesame Street won't do it, so The Banana Splits might as well.

What better way to have one of the Bananas come out than giving them a male love interest? But, which Banana shall have a love interest? Fleegle seems too independent for a lover, regardless of what gender. Bingo prefers pranks and adventure over romance. And Snorky, even though as old as his fellow band mates, bears childlike innocence, so he's not ready for an adult love interest. The only option left was Drooper.

Yes, Drooper will work, she thought. The poor lion is considered the loser of the bunch. What if he had a sweet darling that would tell him how valid he is? Drooper's so clumsy, he's always falling down. Now, he needs someone to catch him and pick him back up on his feet. Sammie then started to sketch out her ideas.

That's when she conjured up Tux the snow leopard! Tux was short for Tucker, also defining his wardrobe, which was a tuxedo. The reason she chose a snow leopard was due to their majestic appearance, and she wanted Tux to come out as sort of a romantic gentleman. Also, because he should be a feline like Drooper. She drew out a reference concept of Tux, along with additional sketches of him and Drooper acting lovey-dovey with each other, and written a bio.

Tux was presented as a muscled man, a contrast opposite to Drooper's skinny frame. This snow leopard was purposely intended to be the hero to Drooper's damsel in distress. He sure is a handsome fella, but he's pretty dumb as well. That didn't matter. He's perfect for Drooper. Tux would be somewhat special to Drooper, like he understands him, he cherishes him, and he's willing to take a punch in the face for him.

After giving the references to Karl, and a bit of debate, the engineer decided to take a shot at it. Reading through Tux's biography, his personality and characteristics had quite interest Karl. This snow leopard certainly didn't possess the same energy as his other boys. Fleegle was the intellectual leader, Bingo was fun and energetic, Drooper was the butt of bad luck, and Snorky was the baby of the group. Tux was different. It would be quite complicated for a stoic machine to act out all these actions. Unless...

What if he gave this animatronic fully functional emotions? Karl always wanted to try something new. A robot with emotions would probably be his greatest achievement yet. No other engineer has dared to try it out. Not only will the idea be impressive, but his feelings would be very convincing.

After almost a month, Tux was completed. Although he matched his reference drawing perfectly, he appeared to be seven feet tall, instead of being two inches shorter than Drooper. Speaking of Drooper, not only were emotions installed into his databanks, but he was also programmed to fall in love with no one but said lion. 

Karl decided to showcase Tux to Sammie. He then activated the mechanical snow leopard. It took some time for Tux to get into motion, but as soon as he saw those humans in sight, he stepped back nervously. He touched around at himself for a moment, and scanned his surroundings. He was now alive, and he wasn't sure how he felt about this. The animatronic walked around the room, picking up items at random. He went back to Sammie and spoke for the first time.

"Hello. I'm... I'm..."

Karl answered for him.

"Tux." "I'm Tux. Pleasure to meet you. ...I think. Say, could you tell me where am I? What is going on? What is my objective?"

Just as Sammie could say anything, the Splits had entered the room. Tux turned his attention towards them by instinct. The very sight of Drooper had already triggered him into love mode. The feeling of seeing the lion was undescribable to him, but since it's in his programming, he knew how to act. He stared at the lion for awhile, then ran over to him. Tux took his paw into his.

"Hello. I am Tux. Pardon me if this sounds so sudden, but, I love you."

The animatronic kissed Drooper's hand, even though he just gapped his mouth open a bit and pressed it against the paw.

"Do you love me?"

Drooper was confused by this abrupt gesture, and had no opinion about it due to his lack of emotions. Still, he responded anyways.

"I love you too, Tux! I love all my friends!"

Tux was quite offended, having to be considered a "friend." Sammie decided to clear things up for the lion animatronic.

"Uh, Drooper, this is Tux. He is your new boyfriend. You know, like, a lover. As in you two are in love. Or at least, pretend to be, for the show."

A new boyfriend? Drooper doesn't remember agreeing to that. He just met the snow leopard, and all of a sudden, they're lovers? The lion isn't sure how he feels about that, especially since he doesn't return the snow leopard's attraction. Then again, Tux is a pretty nice guy. And it's not like they're forcing him to love him back. After all, she did say he could pretend for the show. Since the Splits aren't on the air right now, they might as well just be friends. Drooper shook his hand and greeted the new recruit.

"Very nice meetin' ya, Tux! I'm Drooper! This is Fleegle, Bingo, and Snorky! Welcome to The Banana Splits! Enjoy your stay, friend!"

He still deemed Tux as a "friend." That's not what Tux wanted. He didn't just come alive, fall in love instantly, only for it to turn out to be one-sided. Tux figured, he will get this lion to love him back, even if it kills him.

And so, for the last four days, Tux wasn't ready to be onscreen, so that gave him enough time to win Drooper's affection. The snow leopard had snuck into Rebecca's computer to find information on how to woo a person. Then he'd capture that info into his system.

Tux tried presenting Drooper with a flower (one of the props). He was flattered, took the flower, and patted Tux on the head. But walked away afterwards.

He tried serenading a romantic song, which was performed by the Splits in another era. 🎵I enjoy being a boy, in love with youuuuuuuuuu.🎶 Once again, Drooper was flattered, and applauded his performance, but still, walked away.  

Next, he tried the extreme. Tux grabbed Drooper, dipped him, and planted his mouth onto his, giving him a kiss. That only resulted in Drooper pushing him so hard, he knocks him down on his bum. 

No matter what technique he tried, his attempts all failed. And Drooper showed no signs of loving him back. Today was scheduled for Tux to make his physical appearance. But before he's ready to be on the show, he discussed his issue with Karl.

"My lover... ...doesn't love me. What have I done wrong?" 

Karl knew exactly what the problem was. It's not what Tux has done, but how Drooper feels. The lion animatronic was built to be emotionless, so it's impossible for him to accept a handsome man's gesture. Maybe Karl can fix that. 

"Settle down, my boy. You'll get what you want. I promise."

He then called Drooper over for a tune up. The only way for the two's feelings to be mutual is to install the lion with the same features programmed into Tux's databanks. The snow leopard held his hands together tightly. Soon, he and Drooper will be bond together at last. Together, forever. He'll have him close to him. They'll hold hands. The two will spend their entire lives as one until they rust. Karl then motioned that he had the notion of giving the other Splits emotions as well, so that they can embrace Tux like a family member. He wanted to make his greatest achievement feel at home.

“Yeah yeah sure. Now hurry up with the process!”

Suddenly, Rebecca entered the workshop, announcing that the whole "LGBTQ+ representation" project was officially canceled.

While the news of The Banana Splits having an LGBTQ+ character on their show received largely positive from the queer community, they've also gained negative, violent feedback from those who were against it. They were being accused of "attempting to encourage children into sexual acts," and called out for spreading "leftist SJW propaganda."

It gets much worse. Straight parents set up a campaign to boycott the show. Stevie threatened to quit because he refuses to work around a "cybernetic f@gg3t." And Andy, the network executive, blackmailed that he would pull the plug on their show if they let this "gay shit" slip onto TV. Sammie was fired, and the whole assignment was history.

Karl stopped what he was doing, leaving Tux confused.

"Aren't you gonna-" "I'm afraid there's no reason to anymore, my boy." "But, Karl- Drooper- You said I could have what I want! YOU PROMISED!" “I wish I could keep it, but I don't think I have a choice. I'm sorry." "I don't believe it. How could you be SO SELFISH?! HAVE YOU EVER THOUGHT ABOUT HOW I FEEL?! PLUG HIM BACK IN, RIGHT NOW!" “I can't-" "ALL I WANT IS MY KITTEN TO LOVE ME! DOESN'T ANYBODY CARE?!!"

The snow leopard threw a big tantrum. A single stomp on the ground made the floor shake. Then, he shoved items off of counters, and smashed stuff, while screaming at the top of his voice. He was absolutely terrifying at that moment. Tux turned to Rebecca, thinking it was all her fault. She tried to tell him to stand down, but he was too stubborn. He grabbed her by the neck, and pressed her against the wall. With Tux's back turned away, that gave Karl the opportunity to shut him down. Tux let go of Rebecca, and fell over unconscious.

Poor Tux. Maybe giving him emotions was a bad idea. As it turns out, he's not mature enough to know how to handle them, which makes him too unstabled. After that traumatized experience, Rebecca demanded that Karl should get rid of him this instant.

After she left, the three other aninatronics entered the workshop. Karl stared down at Tux for a minute. The snow leopard animatronic didn't mean to cause any harm. He's just a little faulty, with his ardent coding and all. Karl never worked out how he would have Tux cope with his emotions. The engineer couldn't bring himself to throwing out what he thought was gonna be his greatest achievement yet, so he asked his four to dispose of Tux for him. Karl then left the workshop to see if he could calm Rebecca down.

Four of the Splits gazed upon the now deactivated animatronic. They, including Drooper, felt a bit sorry for him. Why put him to waste? There's still some potential in him. The sad case just wanted, and needed, some love like they have had. A new Banana Splits member is still a member. Besides, he was much nicer to them than Stevie.

"What are we gonna do with him?"

So, rather than dragging his metal carcass to the dumpster, they all agreed to hide his body, behind a couple of boxes and bins in the corner. Perhaps he will make himself useful. Someday.

[under-the-blue-sun]

hot chocolate

summary: matt is feeling sad, so phil decides to teach him how to make hot chocolate to cheer him up. based on a liveshow where phil makes hot chocolate for dan.

word count: 1645

rating: g rated + innocent

warnings: n/a

note: and in the classic way i always do things, i upload my first fic for @phandomficfests bingo fest the day before the date closes. oops. anyway, i hope you enjoy this mindless fluff. :)

read on ao3 | read on wattpad | read on ff.net

"Dad..."

Phil turned around and was surprised to see his son Matthew looking to the ground with a sad pout. Phil brushed his hair back in comfort.

"Sweetie, what's wrong?" Phil asked.

"I asked Papa where he put my reading diary and he told me that now was not the time. He seems angry. Did I do something wrong?" Matt asked, tears welling up in his eyes. Phil glanced at Dan at his desk, meticulously editing a main channel video.

"Oh sweetie...Papa's not angry at you, he's just very busy at the moment. Do you want to learn how to make hot chocolate?" Phil replied. Matt grinned widely.

"Yeah!" Matt cheered. Phil smiled back.

"Okay, but remember to be very quiet as Papa is very busy at the moment, got it?" Phil said.

"So...like a secret mission?" Matt asked. Phil chuckled.

"Yas, just like a mission." Phil said, taking Matt's hand to bring him to the kitchen. Phil smiled softly realising Matt was too short to reach the counter. Sometimes he forgot how small his boy really was until he compared his height with other things. After sorting out the chair for Matt to use, it was now Phil's job to pass on the great hot chocolate making skills down to his son.

"What do we do now?" Matt asked, excited.

"Well first, we decide which mug we want to use," Phil said, reaching into the cupboard to pull out some mugs. "Do we want the Mickey Mouse one, the Caesar's Palace one, the Universal Studios one or the Milka one?"

Matt inspected the mugs which his father had laid out. "What does Milka mean?" he asked.

"It's like German chocolate." Phil replied. Matt nodded in agreement, clearly only pretending to understand what that meant.

"Can I have the Mickey Mouse one?" Matt asked.

"You can have the Mickey Mouse one. I'll get the Milka one for myself and the Universal Studios one for Papa as a surprise." Phil said. Matt gasped in delight.

"A surprise? Papa would like that." Matt said, nodding a lot. Phil laughed fondly.

"Yas, he would. Let's put the Caesar's Palace mug away, and close the cupboard door because Papa gets very irritated when I leave them open, and then we will move onto the next step." Phil said.

"What's next? What's next?" Matt said, tugging on Phil's sweater in anticipation.

"Be patient, Matt. Next we pour milk into the mug." Phil said, demonstrating for his son.

"Can I try?" Matt said, sparkles illuminating in his eyes. Phil looked at his small son and the large carton of milk nervously. He handed Matt the carton, knowing he was going to regret it.

"Be very careful." Phil warned, keeping a careful eye on the carton and his son. Matt poured surprisingly well, only getting a drop of milk on the counter which Phil quickly cleaned up with a paper towel.

"Ta daa!" Matt said proudly.

"Well done Matt," Phil said, his praise clearly making Matt very happy. "Now we need to pour Papa's."

Matt watched his father in awe as he poured the milk very carefully into the Universal Studios mug.

"You're so good at pouring milk." Matt said. Phil struggled to not burst out in laughter, knowing Matt only meant good things. However, it did not stop the graphic flashbacks of the Milk Fic to stop invading his mind. That sounds like something to tweet later tonight.

"Thank you, Matt. Now we get the cocoa powder and put it in the milk like so." Phil said, demonstrating again. "Wanna try?"

Matt nodded eagerly. He mimicked his father, putting just the right amount of cocoa powder and then handing it to Phil who put it Dan's mug.

"Now what?" Matt asked.

"We heat it up in the microwave." Phil said.

"Mi-cro-wave." Matt repeated, imitating Dan's voice from 2010. Phil snorted.

"Did Papa teach you that?" Phil asked.

"Yeah. He told me it was onamatia or something."

"Onomatopoeia. And don't listen to your father, that is not onomatopoeia." Phil said.

"Why not?" Matt asked. Phil ruffled his hair.

"You'll learn it when you're older." Phil said. Matt groaned.

"Why do I only learn everything when I'm older?" Matt said.

"Don't worry, the time will come. You just have to wait." Phil said.

Matt sighed. "But I don't want to wait. Everyone in my class says my creative writings are strange. Even the good ones with the dragons.". He rubbed his eyes and sniffed, trying not to cry.

And with that, something inside Phil broke a little bit inside. It hurt to see Matt's sadness like this. It reminded him of when he first talked to Dan about his own sexuality and how he felt vulnerable and ashamed of something to be proud of. He knew that Matt's writing was well beyond his years and that one day he would be appreciated for it like it should be but right now the other kids didn't seem to understand or recognise his writing.

Phil smiled sadly and smoothed Matt's hair in comfort, leaning down to kiss his forehead.

"I told you sweetie, strangeness is a good thing." Phil said knowingly. Matt looked up, meeting Phil's eyes.

"Really?" Matt whispered. Phil smiled and nodded.

"One day you will be appreciated for your writing and your strangeness will be loved. But sometimes, you need to wait for the world to catch up with you." Phil said, grabbing the mugs to put in the microwave. Matt hopped down from the chair and followed his father.

"Is that what you and Papa had to do?" Matt asked, trailing after him. Phil paused and smiled.

"Yas." Phil said simply in response, hiding his wide smile from his son. He put the mugs in the microwave and made room for his son to do the same.

"Rebecca said that my writing was weird and I had to stop doing it if I wanted to be her friend." Matt said. Phil sighed and rolled his eyes. He had met Rebecca's parents at the cocktail night at the beginning of the year and he already knew that that family was bad news.

"Well, if Rebecca said that, maybe you shouldn't be her friend anyway. Embrace the strange, Matt. Would you want us all to be robots?" Phil asked.

"That'd be so cool! Beep boop beep boop." Matt said, pretending to be a robot. Phil laughed at his son's impression. The microwave beeped in response, demanding for attention until Phil finally took the mugs out and put them on the counter.

Matt gasped. "Dad, I have an idea!"

"What is it?" Phil said. Matt giggled.

"Let's put salt in Papa's hot chocolate." Matt said. Phil shook his head.

"Matt, we're almost out of milk and I don't want to waste any of it."

"But -"

"Think of the cow who spent all that effort squeezing that milk out! We don't want to ruin that, do we?" Phil asked. Matt pouted and shook his head. Phil laughed and ruffled his hair.

"Okay, you take your hot chocolate and I'll take my hot chocolate and Papa's hot chocolate. Be careful not to drop it, okay?" Phil said. Matt bounced happily and nodded, taking the hot chocolate. Phil walked over to Dan, being careful not to drop it himself, and kept an eye on his very clumsy son.

"Papa's going to love this." Matt stage whispered.

"He sure will," Phil said quietly with a smile, then looking up to raise his voice. "Dan!"

"Yo sex -" Dan began, then realised that Matt was right beside his husband. Phil stifled a laugh.

"Papa!" Matt exclaimed, a huge grin on his face. Dan looked up at Phil only to meet his stern expression.

Matt hugged Dan happily while Phil looked at his husband expectantly. Dan met eyes with his son and ruffled his hair.

"Hey there Captain Lestowell. Sorry for snapping at you earlier, I'm just very busy. I promise I'm not mad at you." Dan said. Matt smiled.

"It's fine Papa, we all make mistakes. Look, Dad told me how to make hot chocolate and we made one for you!" Matt exclaimed. Phil handed Dan the mug, making eye contact.

Well done, Phil's eyes said. Dan smirked.

"Rate it out of ten?" Phil asked. Dan cocked his eyebrow up and took a sip, not breaking eye contact with Phil. He shrugged.

"A seven. Could be better." Dan said.

"Are you kidding? This is the best hot chocolate ever!" Matt exclaimed. Dan smiled at his son's enthusiasm for the hot drink.

"Let me try a bit of yours." Dan said. Matt watched eagerly as his father took a sip.

"Wow, your hot chocolate is really good! Looks like your father needs to brush up on his drink making skills." Dan said. Matt giggled at Phil's offended face.

"Hey! At least I didn't put salt in it like Matt suggested." Phil said. Dan gasped loudly

"You wanted to put salt in mine? I thought you were better than this, Matthew Lester-Howell." Dan said dramatically. Matt giggled as Dan booped his nose.

"I'm sorry Papa." Matt said in between laughter.

"I'm almost done editing. Wanna watch a movie?" Dan suggested. Matt clapped and cheered.

"Yeah!" Matt whooped. Phil was not as excited about the thought.

"I don't know. It's pretty late already." Phil said. Matt pouted and turned on his puppy eyes.

"Please?" Matt begged. Phil looked at Dan who was looking back just as eagerly as his son. Phil sighed.

"Fine. But don't blame me if you can't wake up tomorrow, okay?" Phil said. Matt cheered again as Dan stood up from his chair.

"Yay! You two are the best dads ever!" Matt said, hugging both of them by the legs. Dan and Phil hugged their son fondly.

"Yeah, I am pretty good at making hot chocolate." Phil admitted.

[idkwhoiamanymorebutwtf]

Peridot: Why she’s not around often, and why there’s still hope.

K, so I love Peridot. I love her so much. More than life itself. Why is she just..never around? Back in season 4, during the whole zoo arc, she had a lot of use? Like, she could have avoided any issues getting there for starters, being a technician. And she’s more accustomed to how homeworld works than the others? When Aquamarine and Topaz were kidnapping people, she wasn’t there to help rescue the humans, or when Steven got back. And the fact that she was the one who provided Homeworld with a list of names? That’s good fodder for her character! She got Steven kidnapped! Cmon, she’s gotta have some sort of reaction! But no. Nothing until Raising The Barn. Lapis left and that opened the door for more development when it came to Peridot. But what did we get? One episode of her being sad and then nothing until Made Of Honor. And like??? Where was she when we found out about Rose being Pink Diamond anyway? I mean, she was living under the same roof as the gems! Then there’s the fact that she had such a minor role in Reunited? And only got her star because the whole cast was due for a makeover, which just completely took any sort of focus away from her star! Which we were all waiting for her to get for three years! What did she do in the movie? It was a good opportunity to get more of her. Garnet, Amethyst, and Pearl were incapacitated at the time. Steven didn’t have his powers. Peridot could have finally had a chance to be a part of saving the world! She should have been! She knew about the injector Spinel used, and the writers could have at least tried to act like she was doing something! But instead she. Bismuth, and Lapis all stood and stared at the injector for what, forty something hours?!? I swear, that scene where Steven says, “I have no more friends to help me-”, completely forgetting about Peri and the other’s until they’re shoved in his face, was leaked audio of the writers forgetting my girl exists.

Now, I have a lot of hope for Peri in season six, because the writers- weather they did it on purpose or not- set her up for a lot of character growth. Some people see the way she was written as lazy too. Her being so happy-go-lucky, joky, and fun? It’s been seen as poor writing by many people. But I see something behind it. Because her character has become forced. And i’m certain the crew noticed it. Who didn’t? I still love her, but that’s just because i’m literally obsessed with her. But in all my obsessions and dozens of rewatches of every episode she’s in...i’ve noticed something that changed the way I see her personality. 

Peridot has a very self destructive personality. It’s not shown there at the surface, but throughout the whole show, there have always been notes of it. Back when she was a homeworld gem, despite  what her initial ego may suggest, I am under the impression that Peridot was pretty low ranking. She places herself above Pearl’s, but not much else? I’ll assume they’re more valued than Ruby’s, because Ruby’s seem to be considered pretty expendable. But like? She places Quartz Soldiers higher than herself, and while some of them, namely Jasper, are respected, we’ve seen from the way the Amethyst’s at the zoo are treated that they aren’t typically very high class. And her original devout loyalty to homeworld means she’d probably already have practically no self esteem with her lower ranking and homeworld’s obsession with conformity? Plus Peridot didn’t have any powers and that can’t help at all. And yeah, when shd joined the Crystal Gems she had to denounce the whole system, but her entire life before that point, her inferiority was a f a c t to her. Joining the Crystal Gems must hay have helped her views on life and her morals, but I’m not sure she became any healthier as a person? Like, yeah the Crystal Gems taught her basic values and morals. But they didn’t teach them to her in a way that made sure she understood, they just kinda got mad at her when she messed up and let her figure it out herself. I’m not saying the Crystal Gems did anything wrong. But like..she really learned that it was fine for people to inflict arbitrary rules onto her without justifying it and then get mad when she breaks their silent rules. Like when Amethyst supported her making fun of all the other Crystal Gems and then got mad when Peridot made fun of her. Obviously we all know making fun of people to their face is wrong. But she didn’t. And the way she learned was too vague because she just learned that if you upset someone it’s always your fault and that you don’t need to understand, just to blindly apologize so things are okay again. And in the episode Too Far, Peridot tries so hard to make Amethyst laugh. To please Amethyst. It’s why she ended up insulting Amethyst in the first place! Her need to please starts showing itself very clearly at that point. Now, the Crystal gems only ever taught her how to be a good person. But that changed. Enter Lapis Lazuli. A deeply traumatized gem. A gem who was irritable and emotionally volatile. And Peridot, who was taught by homeworld that she didn’t matter, and by the Crystal Gems that other people did matter, and had a right to be angry at her whenever they pleased for reasons she didn’t understand, was absolutely vulnerable to how Lapis acted. Now, she clearly doesn’t go out of her way to please people she doesn’t know. But she did know Lapis. She had an overwhelming desire for Lapis to like her as well. And so we leave a gem whose bound to be very sensitive and have countless triggers (and is prone to angry or emotional outbursts)...alone with a gem whose all set up not to stand up for herself and that when someone’s upset at you, do anything you can to make it right, and it’s absolutely your fault. Immediately after being left with Lapis, though, her personality hadn’t changed into the wacky funtime dorito a lot of my fellow fans (and the critics too), like to criticize. And that’s because it wasn’t until Too Short To Ride that the final piece of her self sacrificing, horribly self-destructive personality came into place. If you don’t recall, there was a scene where Peridot was upset. At first Amethyst just..comforted her. But, well, when Peridot didn’t immediately feel better and fake joy for Amethyst...her tablet was nearly thrown into the sea. This was treated as completely fine and normal. And Peridot, i’m sure, suffered for it. Because there came the idea that things worked out better if she was who people wanted her to be. Peridot changed after that. Amethyst had punished her for being sad. And Lapis must have taken it poorly if Peridot ever got angry. Those things combined with the rest of her character arc? Of course she started trying to lighten the mood whenever she could. Of course she dedicated herself to being happy and silly and making sure everyone else was alright. And this is deeply written into her subtext, most notably in Raising The Barn. Now, at first I thought that episode was meant to highlight that Lapis was a very bad ‘friend’ (or gf, however you wanna read it), to Peri. But well...the show never treated it like that. They never treated lines like “i’ve been bending over backwards for her” or “I can’t tell her how I feel” or “There are things I should tell you, but I know they’ll upset you, so I don’t say those things”, and of course “We don’t matter. Lapis needs us”/”We don’t have a choice in this.” like they were about Lapis being toxic- even emotionally abusive to an extent, which is how I initially read it. Lapis never learned a lesson. No one said Lapis did anything wrong. Of course, I do still think Lapis was wrong there (she made the choice that they were leaving without consulting Peridot. She got angry at Peridot for lying to her when she had no right to. Etc), but now I realize that it wasn’t just Lapis being awful and having no consequences.That episode was there to shove this aspect of Peridot’s personality in our faces. And most of us missed it completely. Of course, it makes sense, seeing as many things Rebecca and the other writers weave into the show are only there in hindsight. It took me twenty views and multiple rants about how the way that episode showed their relationship was pointless, to realize just what the point is. And what’s more? In the climax of the episode, Lapis leaves. Peridot is emotionally open with Lapis, the thing she’d been afraid to do, the thing that goes against her self destructive way of thinking...and Lapis leaves. That is why I am 100% sure Peridot is still stuck in her self destructive behaviors with no one noticing and no real support system to help her deal with it. 

So yes, the writers set her character up perfectly for the future. Weather they meant to or not. We’ll only see if it was bad writing or a perfect setup once the show is over. And well...I hold out hope that this was purposeful. Because if there’s one thing I know about Rebecca Sugar, it’s that she’s a genius at story and character writing. There’s no way she didn’t mean for this to happen. Or at least, that she hasn’t seen the open door and decided to take that opportunity. I have a lot of respect for Rebecca, and I want everyone to know she will most likely do our Peri justice.

I would love to have any thoughts? Weather they’re agreeing with me, adding to my thoughts, or criticizing what I said. I would love any discussion on this topic because it’s been bouncing around my head for a long while now.

[dunwannawakeup]

SNM Shanghai #44

It’s my last show on this trip. I was not able to stay with anyone for an entire loop because deep down I knew there were still so many things I haven’t seen/done. The FOMO almost killed me in the first half loop. I watched Macbeth from the beginning and I could not feel the chemistry between him and Lady Macbeth. I didn’t really enjoy their duets. So I was actually able to notice interesting changes they’ve done to the choreography to better fit in the Shanghai show layout.

The show quickly made a big turn and I was on a most amazing adventure when I was chosen for the Speakeasy 1:1. My friends have told me it was a very good one, but Geez, I had no idea! I am going to finish recapping everything else happened in the show and leave this part in the end, so it is easier for me to hide it behind the “Keep reading”.

I made sure I made my way back to the bar to say goodbye to Constance and The Bishop. They both welcomed me with warm words. The Bishop said: ”We will miss you.”

Even though I was not impressed with the Macbeths duet, I still could not resist watching Nick’s Macbeth since it was my last chance. I finished the 2nd half of the loop with him all the way to the wall-garden solo. 

I followed him down to the ballroom party and picked up Debby’s Danvers in the last half loop. It was just natural for me to stay with all my longtime favorites. I was surprised that I was the only one around when it was time for her very last 1:1. The Shanghai Danvers 1:1 is different, but still very Rebecca centered. I enjoy following Shanghai Danvers to a secret cave deep in the walled garden/graveyard, where she worships the goat. I highly appreciate that, instead of a usual walkout, she stayed true to her character till the very last minute. The walkout was cold and distant. Instead of a goodbye kiss, she whispered into my ear in an iced tone. I immediately wanted to applause to her for that brilliant take on the role. 

HUGE SPOILER ALERT! IT IS TOO COOL TO BE SPOILED. IF YOU INTEND TO EXPERIENCE IT IN PERSON ONE DAY, I STRONGLY ADVICE YOU NOT TO READ THE FOLLOWING.

It started with a story of a poor lady and a card game that we were told on different occasions or discovered in many other ways. I saw in the 1:1 room there was a corner with old lockets and photos. The story was told in a whole new perspective of the same story, from a third party. Then I was invited to play the same game, that we are all familiar with. Inevitably, I lost. I need to bear the consequences and I was pushed out but taken by another character in the dark, whom I quickly recognized was mother f**king Hecate. I was reminded of what happened to the poor lady and was asked whether I wanted to see her (that) locket. She had a key with her so she could open the back door in the autopsy room. Hecate escorted me to Agnes’ bedchamber through the closet. She shushed me to move quietly, not to wake up Agnes. She gently touched Agnes’ face and put the locket down. I followed her back to the street when she kept intense eye contact with me and gave me her purse. Then she walked to the side to be under a spotlight when she was putting on her velvet gloves. I gave her purse back. She was pleased with my assistance and kissed my mask on the forehead. I followed her back to rep bar when she invited me to sit with her right across the table when I realized that she was going to eat the liver. She gave me such intense glare the whole time, and suddenly she stood up, lifted her chin, facing the light, when she slowly spat out the ring. Because of the nice angle, the ring was reflecting the light and was so shiny. She suddenly moved her face right in front of mine, with blood dripping down her chin. It was an imagery so strong that I think I would never able to forget. 

She put the ring on me and briefly sang MFV. I was still in the aftershock,  so I waited for Hecate in the rep bar trying to process everything that happened to me ever since the Speakeasy 1:1. Before I realized, I saw a hand extended to me and I was invited to the Speakeasy and Taxi 2:1 again. I had it a few shows ago and I knew what was going to happen, but it was so cool because it was the Speakeasy who chose me for his 1:1 and started this journey of wonder. It was pretty cool for him to meet me in the 2:1 again. And when it was time for them to finish their makeover, they both kissed my mask. That was why I ended up with a mask with not one, not two, but three lipstick marks on it. ISN’T IT SUPER COOL???

The whole thing got me wonder, thou, that in the Shanghai show, so many characters would switch hands, that it is theoretically impossible for a loyal follower to a specific role, to get to experience the whole loop, because that role’s 1:1/2:1 is picked by another role, or it happens consecutively following another role’s interaction. It can be frustrating in some cases, but when you get picked, you get to experience so much! So many more Shanghai 1:1s are longer, more extensive comparing to their NY show equivalents. Not to mention there are so many more in quantity and variety. If you are super into interactions, Shanghai show is definitely much richer in this respect.

However, NY show has better dance scenes. Despite the lack of Witches 8 or the Bride, almost every similar solos/duets in the NY show are much more intense. I was not impressed with their watered down edition in the Shanghai show. I had so many 1:1 free shows in NY and I could still enjoy the show by just watch the dances. It would be more frustrating to be 1:1 free in Shanghai show, I guess, since they are a much bigger deal. 

[thewomaninlilywhite]

@thecircusofyourmind see, I actually answered all these in a googledoc the day you sent me the ask, I’m just The Worst and never posted it...

Disclaimer: I left out some questions I’m not comfortable answering (usually because thinking about the answer made me too anxious)

Also, Christine is my therapist… her name comes up a few times in these answers

1: How tall or short do you wish you were?

I am 5’ but I wish I was shorter because, growing up, I was always the shortest so now it’s weird and makes me feel uncomfortable when I’m not...if that makes sense. Like, it feels like part of my identity is gone? (Christine lowkey roasts me for this one)

2: What’s your dream pet? (Real or not)

I’m such a cat person. I love cats. I’d want a either a pure white persian or a bombay or a maine coon.

3: Do you have a favorite clothing style?

I love the fashion of the 1930s-1950s

4: What was your favorite video game growing up?

I played way more mario kart than my skills (or lack thereof) would suggest. Also, professor Layton (still do!)

6: If you had a warning label, what would yours say?

Warning: Very sensitive and overemotional: handle with care. Is prone to bursting out into showtunes she thinks she can sing, but can’t.

8: What is your Greek personality type? [Sanguine, Phlegmatic, Choleric, or Melancholic]

I’m a melancholic mercury (I do shakespeare so I always think in terms of temperaments and planets, especially because I have too much sanguine tendency to identify as purely melancholic, but it is definitely my dominant temperament)

9: Are you ticklish?

Absolutely

10: Are you allergic to anything?

I’m lactose-intolerant, I try to cut back on gluten because of my Hashimotos, I also can’t eat peppers and usually avoid soy, but I’ve never actually been tested for allergies so like, who knows

13: Are you a cat or dog person?

Cat

14: Would you rather be a vampire, elf, or merperson?

An elf, I’m already small

15: Do you have a favorite Youtuber?

I subscribe to so many different YouTubers for so many different reason, but if I had to pick one, I’d probably say Kathryn Morgan because her videos have helped me so much as a both a dancer and a person (especially with my diet and lifestyle because we have the same thyroid condition)

16: How tall are you?

5’

18: How much do you weigh? [Only ask this if you know the user doesn’t mind!]

115lb. but I’m trying to lose weight (I want to be under 110, and trust me, I’ve got plenty to lose)

19: Do you believe in ghosts/spirits?

To an extent

20: Do you like space or the ocean more?

The ocean, the infiniteness of space makes me too anxious, plus, I’ve always lived near the ocean.

21: Are you religious?

Yes

22: Pet peeves?

Slow walkers, people who don’t give you personal space in the queue, people who have no respect for the people around them in public places in general, the list is actually pretty long.

23: Would you rather be nocturnal or diurnal [opposite of nocturnal]?

I basically am nocturnal – I literally can never concentrate on important things until after 8pm

24: Favorite constellation?

Scorpio because I can always see it when my family goes up to Maine over the summer so it makes me think of that

25: Favorite star?

So tacky, but I love Polaris; I feel like it’s so magical to think that long ago sailors would look up at the sky and based off this little guy, could figure out where they were. It makes me feel so warm and fuzzy for some reason.

26: Do you like ball-jointed dolls?

I never had on eso I had to google this and they’re beautiful

27: Any phobias or fears?

I have anxiety (social phobia, arachnophobia, thanatophobia, claustrophobia, fear of abandonment, fear of the unknown, the list is long and my therapist doesn’t like me going this deep into it because then I get overwhelmed and trigger a panic attack – we’re working on my social anxiety first…)

28: Do you think global warming is real?

I think the earth goes through periods of cooling (ending in with the ice ages) and warming (which we are currently in) and therefore do not think that warming is CAUSED by humans, but I do think humans are speeding up the process

30: Favorite movie?

Mary Poppins, Rebecca, It’s a Wonderful Life, and Confessions of a Shopaholic are the only movies I’ve sat and watched all the way through on more than one occasion without being distracted so...

32: How many pets have you owned in your lifetime?

I had a cat named Lucky when I was younger, I currently have a cat named Lindsay, and, when I was younger, I had two goldfish who I named Dora and Boots (and Lucky ate them when the bowl got [mysteriously] knocked off the counter)

34: What is a color that calms you?

Lavender and Ballet Pink (gee, I wonder why)

35: Where would you like to travel and/or live?

New York is my home, I adore Paris, but I could see myself living in London

36: Where were you born?

Long Island

37: What is your eye color?

Hazel, though sometimes they appear blue when it’s raining

38: Introvert or extrovert?

Introvert

39: Do you believe in horoscopes and zodiacs?

I don’t believe in them per se, but I do read my horoscope everyday because the one I use tends to have little motivational sayings in it and they help boost my mood

40: Hugs or kisses?

Depends on who they’re from

41: Who is someone you would like to see/visit right now?

A lot of people...

42: Who is someone you love deeply?

Everyone...I love far too much

43: Any piercings you want?

I have two holes in my ears and I don’t desire any more than that

44: Do you like tattoos and piercings?

I don’t think they make a person MORE attractive, but I like how they allow people to express themselves, especially with the artistry involved with tattoos. You can learn a lot about a person based off what they put on/do to their bodies

45: Do you smoke or have you ever done so?

Absolutely not – I don’t like associating with people who do… it makes me very uncomfortable

47: What is a sound you really hate?

Loud noises

49: Can you do a backflip?

I wish

50: Can you do the splits?

Definitely

53: How are you feeling right now?

Lonely

55: When did you feel happiest?

When I am dancing

56: Something that calms you down?

Listening to music, reading, writing, dancing, sketching...

57: Have any mental disorders?

I’ve been formally diagnosed with multiple types of anxiety disorders (GAD, Social Anxiety, other phobias, OCD) but… let’s just say there are things I keep from may therapist that may imply I have others...

58: What does your URL mean?

It’s a reference to The Woman in White and The Secret Garden

59: What three words describe you the most?

Passionate, Loyal, Overwhelmed

60: Do you believe in evolution?

Simple answer: yes

61: What makes you unfollow a blog?

If they post too much about politics (because I use social media to escape the real world, not to be reminded of it, plus a lot of things [especially on here] are not fact-checked so I don’t believe much of it anyway), if they start posting things that make me uncomfortable or strain my own mental health, if they’re rude to me or other bloggers

62: What makes you follow a blog?

I like them and/or their content

63: Favorite kind of person:

Trustworthy and open

64: Favorite animal(s):

Puffins, Penguins, Cats

68: What is your MBTI personality type?

I’ve taken multiple tests and it’s always either INTJ or INFJ, but their percentages are always close to 50/50 so it really depends on the situation

69: What is your star sign?

Libra

73: Do you have platform shoes?

I have platform heels?

74: What is one random but interesting fact about yourself?

I’m currently trying to read every Hercule Poirot novel (is that interesting? Idk I’m a pretty boring person)

75: Can you do a front flip?

Again, I wish.

76: Do you like birds?

Sure

77: Do you like to swim?

Yes

78: Is swimming or ice skating more fun to you?

I rarely go ice skating. I used to love it when I did, but I haven’t gone since my knee surgery so I think I’ll be too anxious to enjoy it

82: Something you really enjoy doing:

Being creative

83: Favorite person to talk to:

I don’t like talking to people

84: What was your first impression of Tumblr?

I thought it’s what all the “cool popular girls” at school used, but I didn’t understand it and didn’t actually use my blog until months after I created it

85: How many followers do you have?

730

86: Can you run a mile within ten minutes?

I have before, but I’m not sure if I still could.

87: Do your socks always match?

Yes

88: Can you touch your toes and keep your legs straight completely?

Yes

89: What are your birthstones?

Opal

90: If you were an animal, which one would you be?

A fox

91: If a flower could aesthetically represent you, what kind would it be?

A rose, sweet and elegant, yet prickly and cautious toward people trying to use me

92: A store you hate?

Urban Outfitters

93: How many cups of coffee can you drink in one day?

I shouldn’t drink more than one cup of decaf a day, but sometimes I do… sorry Christine

94: Would you rather be able to fly or read minds?

Neither

95: Do you like to wear camo?

No

96: Winter or summer?

Winter

97: How long can you hold your breath for?

A minute, last time I timed myself

99: Someone you look up to:

Laura Michelle Kelly

100: A store you love?

H&M

101: Favorite type of shoes

Heels

102: Where do you live?

New York

103: Are you a vegetarian or vegan? If so, why?

No because I have a very sensitive stomach and would literally die of malnutrition if I didn’t eat meat because I can’t eat a lot of food that vegetarians/vegans use as supplements

104: What is your favorite mineral or gem?

I love amethysts and pearls and opals and diamonds

105: Do you drink milk?

I can’t

106: Do you like bugs?

No

107: Do you like spiders?

...I’m arachnophobic

108: Something you get paranoid about?

Everything, I have an anxiety disorder (actually multiple…)

109: Can you draw:

Kinda?

111: A question you hate being asked?

“Why do you keep to yourself all the time”

112: Ever been bitten by a spider?

NO THANK YOU

113: Do you like the sound of waves at the beach?

Yes!

114: Do you prefer cloudy or sunny days?

Cloudy, I get chronic migraines so the sun can be too much for me

115: Someone you’d like to kiss or cuddle right now:

Joe, one of my absolute best friends (he gives the BEST hugs)

118: Do you have freckles?

Yes

119: Favorite thing about a person:

If they treat me kindly and gently and don’t make fun of how emotional I am

120: Fruits or vegetables?

Fruits

121: Something you want to do right now:

Sing

122: Is the ocean or sky prettier?

Ocean

123: Sweet or sour foods?

Sweet

124: Bright or dim lights?

Dim, but not too dim

126: Something you hate about Tumblr:

How catty people are

127: Something you love about Tumblr:

The way little niches form

128: What do you think about the least?

Things that trigger my anxiety ?? How is this question supposed to be asked ??

130: Who would you like to punch in the face right now?

No one, that’s rude

131: What is something you love but also hate about yourself?

I don’t like anything about myself (Christine’s gonna come for me for this because she always tries to get me to answer these kinds of questions and I never can)

132: Do you smile with your teeth showing for pictures?

My teeth can’t physically show when I smile?

133: Computer or TV?

Computer

134: Do you like roller coasters?

Yes

135: Do you get motion sickness or seasickness?

No

136: Are your ears lobed or attached?

Lobed

137: Do you believe in karma?

Yes

138: On a scale of 1-10, how attractive would you say you are?

Like a 0

139: What nicknames do you have/have had?

Jillibean, chicklet, Jilli, Jill, I usually just go by Jillian though

140: Did you have any pretend or imaginary friends?

Yes

141: Have you ever seen a therapist/shrink?

Shout out to my girl Christine for putting up with my disaster of a life every friday morning at 9am!

142: Would you say you are a good or bad influence to others?

I feel like I have no influence over others

143: Do you prefer giving or receiving gifts/help?

I like giving help, but hate giving gifts because I feel like I’m so bad at it

144: What makes you angry

When people don’t listen to me, when people aren’t being fair (in a situation where fairness is due)

145: How many languages do you speak fluently?

2 – English and French

146: Do you prefer boys, girls, and/or non-binaries?

I prefer people who are nice to me

147: Are you androgynous?

No

148: Favorite physical thing about yourself:

Wasn’t this already asked? Nothing

149: Favorite thing about your personality:

Nothing

150: Name three people you would like to talk to right now in person.

Joe, Sammi, Lindsey

151: If you could go back into time and live in one era, which would you choose?

Victorian England

152: Do you like BuzzFeed?

Yes

154: Do you like to kiss others’ foreheads or hands for platonic reasons?

YES is this not something people do?? (sorry Joe)

155: Do you like to play with others’ hair?

Yes (seriously wishing Joe used tumblr so I could tag him in all these things)

156: What embarrasses you?

Everything, legit my entire existence is an embarrassment to everyone who associates with me

157: Something that makes you nervous/anxious:

Everything, I have an (several) anxiety disorder(s)

158: Biggest lie you have ever told:

“I’m fine”

159: How many people are you following?

139 – I did like a cleanse over the summer

160: How many posts do you have on your blog(s)?

84,034 and I actually just gasped at that number – why am I like this?

161: How many drafts do you have on your blog(s)?

None

162: How many likes do you have on your blog(s)?

4,901

163: Last time you cried and why:

Watching “When Calls the Heart” earlier had me teary-eyed, but I was kinda at my Grandmother funeral a few days ago so???

164: Do you have long or short hair?

Long

165: Longest your hair has ever been:

I don’t know, I don’t measure it?

166: Why do you like, dislike, or have neutral feelings about religon?

I like religion when it is practiced in a way that doesn’t harm other people. I don’t believe that anyone should be forced to follow a religion, but it can really provide safety and guidance to people when followed correctly.

168: Do you like to wear makeup?

Yes – it’s an artform to me, and I love experimenting with different looks!

169: Can you stand on your hands or head for more than thirty seconds?

Head, yes, hands, no and I really don’t know what I’m doing wrong because I know all like the techniques and stuff I’m supposed to be employing and they never work ???

170: Did you answer the questions you were asked truthfully?

yes

[anthropologicalhands]

ceg fic: temperature control

title: temperature control summary: Rebecca Bunch cursing in his shower is not Nathaniel’s usual Monday morning, but he can adjust.  notes: 3x07 morning after fic. Rebecca definitely jumped Nathaniel on a weeknight, right? 

a03 link here

Nathaniel wakes to the click of a door closing.

His first, fuzzy thought is that Rebecca ran away again. Except the sound isn’t quite right, and when he sits up against the headboard he can still see her purse by the front door and her shoes off to the side of the bed.

So where did she go…

The sound of running water sputters to life in the bathroom, and there’s an immediate, indignant yelp, hastily muffled.

Nathaniel grins, a burst of amusement suffusing quickly with relief.

Ah, there she is.

The empty side of the bed is still warm; he’s impressed she managed to sneak out without waking him. The last time they had done this he’d been aware of every time she shifted in the night. Though considering how late it had been when they finally fell asleep—

That brought forth a sudden, pressing concern: what time was it now?

There are many words that come to mind when he describes Rebecca, but ‘timely’ is not one of them. Nathaniel scrambles out of bed to check his phone, urgency overtaking dignity.

The digital clock informs him that he still has another thirty minutes before his alarm goes off. But going back to sleep seems pointless after the momentary panic has put his internal systems on full alert.  Instead, he pulls on the sweats and shirt from the night before and goes to stand before the bathroom door.

“Rebecca?” He knocks gently on the door with the back of his hand. “Everything all right?”

She mutters something incomprehensible: it sounds vaguely obscene.

“Sorry, didn’t catch that.”

“Fine!” Rebecca’s voice finally squeaks through the door, over the sound of the shower spray. “Be out in a minute!”

Nathaniel nods before he remembers that she won’t be able to see it.

“Don’t worry about it. Take your time.”

He slips away from the door and heads to the kitchen, looking for something to do while getting his facial muscles under control. He never has breakfast, but he’s pretty sure that his guest does, so he should try to see if there is anything in his fridge.

He’s found oranges and not much else when Rebecca emerges from the bathroom, barefoot but otherwise fully dressed and pinching the last of the excess moisture from her hair. She catches his eye and smiles ruefully.

“Hey.”

“Hey,” he returns, completely unable to help the answering smile that the sight of her draws from him.

“Did I wake you up?” She crosses through the apartment, pausing to pick up her purse, bending to retrieve it from the doorway.

When she looks up and catches his answering nod, she winces. “Ah, shit. Sorry.”

“It’s fine. Was everything okay in there?”

“I ran into a problem with your shower panel.”

He frowns, confused. “What happened? Do I have to call the landlord?”

She shakes her head, slipping the purse strap over her shoulder. “Nothing like that. I was trying to get the water warm and accidentally turned on the jets instead and got sprayed in the face. Speaking of which, I didn’t even know it was possible to have jets in a shower, so what the hell is thatabout?”

He laughs –he can’t help it. Rebecca tries to glower at him, but her mouth is more curved into a smile than a frown, so he doubts she minds all that much.

She approaches the kitchen counter and braces herself against the edge but leans forward, towards him, chin tilted stubbornly upwards. “But seriously. What kind of space age bachelor aesthetic are you going for here with the fancy shower options? That’s too many fiddly bits to keep track of. Especially when we might have another drought, why would you want all these weird dials when all you need is a temperature control? Maybe a detachable shower nozzle.” She narrows her eyes at him, smirking. “Or maybe that’s just me. You probably wouldn’t use that the same way I would.”

Nathaniel rolls his eyes, amused. He puts his hands down on the other side of the counter, leaning a little more forward so he can look down at her. “I’m sorry, let me get this straight: after knocking on my door in the middle of the night and jumping me with maybe two seconds of warning, today you’re complaining that my shower has too many options? That’s just rude.”

Rebecca has her lip between her teeth, though her shoulders shake with suppressed laughter. He considers leaning a little further and closing the gap between them, but she seems to be playing it casual, and he doesn’t want to come off too strong.

“Thirsty?”

He moves away from the counter, and gestures towards the sink.

“Huh?” From his peripheral vision he sees her give herself a little shake. “Oh, sure.”

He fills two glasses and turns back around to find Rebecca watching him, now resting her elbows on the countertop, twiddling her thumbs. He slides the glass across the counter; she reaches out and accepts it with a quiet ‘thank you’

“In all seriousness,” he says. “You could have woken me up. I wouldn’t have minded. Might have just joined you, what with the impending drought,” he adds, with a small smirk.

She smiles, but the playful glint in her eyes is not quite there. She falters a bit, dropping her gaze and studying the black marble countertop instead, tracing an uneven gray skein right by the edge.

“Well, you have work, and I know you like to get in early. I was trying to be considerate.” She smiles self-deprecatingly. “Didn’t seem to work.”

“I wouldn’t have minded,” he insists.

She nods, still looking down at her hands. It’s not easy to gauge Rebecca, not when she doesn’t want to be read. She’s drawn back, agitated about something, but he can’t tell what.

The nervous energy is throwing him off—it’s such a far cry of the woman who has tackled him in his office during his first week, tried to seduce him in his doorway a month ago and who was just in his bed an hour ago.

Unease twists his stomach. She had said that sex wouldn’t affect anything about her recovery, but maybe it has. Maybe she’s already realized it and wants to escape. She already has her purse, after all.

“Rebecca?” He starts, and pauses, trying to think the best way to phrase it. “Did you need to leave, earlier? Am I keeping you from something?”

“What?” Rebecca’s head snaps back up, eyes wide. “I wasn’t…no, absolutely not. I didn’t want to wake you, but I wasn’t going to just skip out. I have better manners than that, most of the time.”

She mutters the last part, dragging a hand through her hair, the damp ends of her curls bobbing and sticking to her skin; she tucks them back behind her ear.

He's genuinely worried now.

“Rebecca, was this okay?”

“Of course it was, better than okay, really. I’m just…feeling kind of guilty.” She holds up a hand, palm forward, already anticipating his next question. “Not about the sex.”

“About what then?” he prompts, genuinely confused.

She chews her lip before answering.

“About the fact that it’s Monday morning, you’re usually in the office by eight and I definitely wasn’t thinking about that when I came over last night. I mean, I don’t even have jet lag as an excuse, ‘cause I’m going from east to west and that’s always an easier shift. So. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.”

“Well, I am.”

“Don’t be,” says Nathaniel firmly. “I mean, yeah, you could have hurt my back, jumping on me like that, but I remembered to bend my knees, so...”

She laughs at that, the same way she did a few days, like she hasn’t got a care in the world. She stands a little taller, her shoulders relaxing. The tension unknots in his stomach, and he doesn’t hide his own smile.

“Are you hungry? I have some fruit,” he says, changing the subject, grounding it back in the now. “Not much else though.”

“Nathaniel, it’s fine. You weren’t expecting a house guest, and I wasn’t, uh, originally planning on spending the night—”

He raises an eyebrow at her, skeptical.

“You fell asleep before I did.”

He takes some pleasure at seeing her flush and glare half-heartedly at him.

“It wasn’t that late,” says Rebecca, defensive. “Your stupid bed is just really, really comfortable. I don’t know how you ever wake up so early in the morning.”

“It’s called a work ethic.”

She rolls her eyes, but she’s smiling again, and he takes it as permission to test the waters, circle back to their earlier (non-)conversation.

“You didn’t really answer my question.”

She tilts her head, curious. “Which one?”

“About your therapy thing. And…us. Having sex,” he gestures between them. “Where does it fit into everything?”

“Oh,” she considers. “It’s a judgment call, honestly. I guess you could also call it part of my homework.”

Nathaniel squints at her. “Excuse me? I’m homework?”

She laughs.

“Before I went to Buffalo, my therapist told me that I was trying too hard to be perfect, and not, you know, living life and making mistakes,” she explains, tracing her fingers across the marble again in careless spirals. “Not that this was a mistake. Um, it’s more of a learning to trust my instincts kind of thing? I do a lot of, seeing things in black and white. This is Good and that is Bad, in all capital letters, no room for gray. But that’s not how life works. There’s a lot of personal judgment involved, and he encouraged me to use that judgment and just live life.”

She looks askance at him. “Does that make sense?”

“I think so.” He says. It will make sense, once he thinks on it a little more deeply. For now, he’s just happy she seems more relaxed, more comfortable standing here in his kitchen with him. “So...what kind of judgment call is having sex with your ex-boss?”

She laughs, bright and infectious and warm as the light that has been slowly creeping into the room, warming the floors and stretching long fingers across the kitchen.

“We’ll see, but it was pretty great sex, so I’m feeling good about it,” she says, cocking her head to the side, almost coquettish. “I probably still should have at least sent you a text first, or something. I’m figuring it out. It’s a work in progress. I’m a work in progress; that’s where I’m at.”

“Well, I already told you: I’m here for you, no matter what.” The words are a little easier to say a second time, though he supposes it could just be because they are ensconced in his apartment, and he’s not being thrown off kilter on her doorstep. “Just keep me posted.”

Her face softens. “I know. I will. And thank you.”

They stand like that a while. Rebecca is the first to look away, out to the windows and the morning haze over the city, before meeting his eyes again.

“I really should be going,” she says regretfully. “I do have therapy in a couple of hours and I need to check in on a few things. But I’ll…see you again? In the reasonably near future?”

“Yeah. Sure,” he says, trying to play it cool. Trying to remember what playing it cool is, because he used to be good at it, once. Instead, he’s smiling at Rebecca and she’s smiling at him and they seem to have run out of words and are just being held nicely in the moment. It’s a new sensation, an immersion of complete calm that Nathaniel has rarely known, Mondays notwithstanding.

The moment breaks with his ringtone, signaling his normal start of the day. He flicks it off, but Rebecca is already drawing away, hitching up her purse and fumbling through it.

“Huh, my roommate’s been texting,” she says, pulling out her phone. “Weird. I told her I’d be here and not to wait up because I’d be home really late. She’s sent like three texts asking if I’m dead or if you killed me. I should probably let her know that I’m not—aaand she’s calling. Sorry, I need to take this.”

“Go ahead,” says Nathaniel. “I need to get ready anyways. Do you need to leave immediately?”

Rebecca’s got her phone dangling between two fingers, like her roommate is about to lunge through and bite her. “It seriously depends. I hope you don’t mind....”

“Of course not.” He tries not to look at her directly –it’s a bit stupid, to be disappointed. “I’ll see you around?”

Rebecca’s attention is still mostly on her phone, but she spares a smile for him. “I’ll see you around,” she agrees, before pressing the green talk button and holding it up to her ear. “Hey Heath-er! Yes, I’m not dead. No, Nathaniel didn’t kill me. Yes, I did fall asleep, and yes the axe is unnecessary.”

“What?”

Rebecca shakes her head at him.

“It’s a thing, don’t worry about it,” she returns the phone to her ear. “I’m back, Heather. How was your weekend?”

It’s a little weird, having to make a graceful exit from his own kitchen, but Nathaniel’s not going to push it. It was a good night, they can leave it at that. But it’s Monday and, good night or not, he needs to get ready for work.

He takes a few minutes to check the shower settings, trying to test if Rebecca made any alterations with unintended consequences. By the time he hears his apartment door snap shut, the small twinge in his chest is still present, but it’s not too bad; he’s already started his mental preparations for what should be a very productive workday. She has her own things to do and he can respect that. He can consider their exchange later. He just needs a few minutes to calibrate, get his mind focused and ready to deal with the incoming grind.

…only then the door to the bathroom opens instead, and there are footsteps, and before Nathaniel can do more than turn towards the shower door it’s being yanked open and Rebecca slips right in, sans clothing and smirking mischievously.

“You know what? That was silly.  We’ve still got…what, an hour? That’s plenty of time.” She presses into him, her arms slipping around his waist and resting above his hip bones, raising goosebumps. “This is a nice shower. You have good taste in, uh, tile? I guess? Is your offer to show me how to work the fiddly bits still on the table?”

The part of him that was gearing up tells him that he should be annoyed—his morning routine is usually timed down to the minute and anything they do will definitely disrupt that.

“Yep, it’s still on. Totally, completely on,” confirms Nathaniel, his hands skimming around her back, kneading circles at her hips and near the base of her spine, bringing her impossibly closer.

Whatever, he can adjust.

“Okay, good. I mean, I was trying to be considerate, like seriously, but if we’re gonna be up this horribly early, at least we can have a little more fun.”

“So you wasted my hot water for nothing?”

She scoffs. “Please, I was barely here five minutes. I didn’t even steam up the mirrors properly.”

He groans and kisses her. She returns it enthusiastically, going on her toes to bury her hands in his hair, scrabbling for a grip.

She hums with pleasure and breaks away, a little breathless. “Good, this is good. Now you can show me how this stupid shower works.”

“It’s not that difficult,” he says, bending down to catch her mouth again, sweeping her hair out of her face, smoothing down her neck until his thumbs brush against her clavicle. “Seriously. There’s just two main functions. Heat and pressure.”

“Ooh,” she sighs, letting him crowd her to the back shower wall, still under the spray. “Mhmm. Yeah. Well, the heat’s just fine --let’s talk about keeping up the pressure.”

[notwithout-mymuse]

Fic: Changes

Day 4 of Robert Week - “That’s my favourite outfit on you.”  

Set during the break-up. Robert explores his identity; featuring new friends, a certain bar, and THAT floral shirt.

--

It all starts in the Woolpack one night, Robert is there having a quiet pint, chatting across the bar with Victoria who’s drying glasses.

They both hear Adam’s cackle before he enters the pub, his arm slung around Aaron’s neck as they stumble up to the bar. Aaron shoots him a reserved smile, but doesn’t say anything, turning to Charity and ordering two pints instead.

Robert tries to ignore them, the same way that Vic is, but it’s hard. It’s clear they’ve had a couple of drinks already, as Adam loudly tells Charity about their plans to go into town now he’s got his wingman back. Robert can’t help but wince at that.

Vic must clock his reaction because she passes him a bottle of wine from behind the bar.

“I’ll be done soon, why don’t you take this back to mine and order us some Chinese food or summat. Rebecca’s up at Home Farm, so we can just chill out together.” Vic’s voice is cheerful and upbeat, but Robert knows by the way she is avoiding looking anywhere near Adam, that the comfort isn’t just for him.

“Ok, will you be alright?” he asks, not wanting to leave her, but not sure he can stand another second of Adam crowing about him and Aaron being “free, and single, and back on the pull.”

“Course.” Vic says, “I’ve only got another ten minutes, I’ll be fine!” She shoes him towards the door with a flick of her towel.

--

As Robert heads to bed that night, too full with Chinese food, and slightly light-headed from the wine, he tries not to think about what Aaron might be doing right now. But because he can’t sleep, he can’t ignore the negative thoughts that swirl around his head, his stomach churning sickeningly at the thought of Aaron out at Bar West, no doubt with men hanging all over him, all hoping that he’ll take them to his home, his bed.

(Not their home. Not their bed. Not anymore.)

There’s also a twinge of regret at the thought of Bar West. Robert had never gone back after their disastrous earlier attempt, even though Aaron had brought it up a few times, Robert had always refused. Now he’s angry at himself for his own stubbornness. He should have taken Aaron there. He shouldn’t have let his feelings of discomfort prevent him from taking Aaron out and showing him off proudly, while Aaron was still his to be proud of.

He would later blame the three bottles of wine that he and Vic had drowned their sorrows in for his brilliant idea. But right now, the drink is swirling with guilt, regret, and frustration. So he throws back the covers, and wanders towards the bathroom, where he can hear the tap running, proof that Vic is still up.

She’s brushing her teeth over the sink when Robert knocks on the doorframe, causing her to jump slightly.

“I was thinking, we should go out tomorrow, me and you. Check out a few bars. We should be able to have fun too.” Vic narrows her eyes, like she’s trying to work out what he’s up to.

“I’m just saying. Why shouldn’t we?” Robert shrugs.

“All right then, you’re on!” She says, enthusiasm seeping into her voice now.

“Good.”

--

“You’re sure this isn’t too much?” Robert asks, doubt seeping in now, as he stands in front of Vic’s kitchen mirror, playing with the collar of his shirt.

“No, it’s cute!” Vic reassures him.

“I’m not sure what I’m going for, but I’m pretty sure ‘cute’ isn’t it.” Robert mutters. “Maybe I should change?” he wonders aloud, still playing with the bright, floral-print shirt that he’s only ever worn once, the one that both Aaron and Rebecca had teased him for wearing.

“No!” Vic says firmly, shoving him in the direction of the front door, and their waiting taxi. “I’ve spent long enough waiting for you to get ready. This was your idea, remember?”

“All right, all right… we’re going!”

--

They haven’t even finished their first drink, when Vic’s phone rings, and she meanders round the crowds to the outdoor smoking area, so that she can hear.

Robert plays with one of the beer mats with the Bar West logo on, as he waits for his sister to return. He’d seen the eyebrow she had raised at his when they pulled up outside the bar, the rainbow flags in the window making clear exactly what sort of bar they were heading to, but he’d been grateful that she hadn’t questioned it.

He’s surprised by how at ease he feels here now, content to sit on a stool with a beer and people watch, in a place that he wouldn’t have been caught dead in a few years ago. Despite everything, Robert thinks he feels a little bit proud of himself for that.

Vic looks stressed when she returns, her curled hair bouncing on her shoulders.

“That was Chas, work emergency. Apparently, Marlon and the kids have all got norovirus, so he can’t go anywhere near the kitchen, and they’ve got a huge engagement party in. I’m sorry, can we finish this another time?”

“Yeah, don’t worry, go! I’ll see you later.” Robert tells her.

“Are ya not coming too?” Vic asks.

“I’ve just ordered another beer.” He lies. “I’ll finish it, then head back.”

“Ok.” Vic says, leaning over to kiss his cheek. “I’ll see you at home.”

As he watches her leave, he feels a pang of guilt. Vic is one of the few people he tries to avoid lying to. But the truth is he feels more free and normal here tonight, as just an anonymous face in a sea of people, in a way that he can’t really explain to himself, let alone to someone else.

“That’s my favourite outfit on you.” An unfamiliar voice comes from the stool beside him. When he looks to his left, he sees a good-looking bloke with light brown hair and a smart white shirt rolled up to the elbows.

“Uh… I’m pretty sure this is the only outfit you’ve ever seen me in, considering I’ve only just met you.” Robert replies, startled.

“Yeah, I’m sorry.” The guy says, visibly cringing. “That was a really dreadful pick-up line. At least let me buy you a drink to make up for it?”

The strangeness of the moment makes Robert freeze. It’s not as though he hasn’t been hit on plenty of times before, by both men and women, but this feels different. His experiences with men prior to Aaron had always been limited to brief, drunken fumbles. Scratching an itch, he had always told himself, never letting himself consider anything beyond that.

It makes him feel strangely off-kilter now, to be here, out and single and being chatted up by an admittedly good-looking bloke who seemed genuinely interested in getting to know him.

“I’m… no offense but I’m not really looking for that right now.” Robert tries to explain. “Bad breakup” he adds, shrugging.

“Ouch. Been there, don’t worry about it.” The guy says cheerfully, ordering two beers from the bartender regardless.

“Daniel” he adds.

“Robert.”

--

Robert’s not sure how he ended up at one of the booth tables, downing shots with a bunch of people who had been strangers two hours ago, but that’s exactly what he’s doing.

Daniel’s open smile and friendly nature hadn’t been dimmed by rejection, quite the opposite. They had chatted for a while about where they were from, and what they did for a living, before Daniel insisted he join his group of friends at their table, performing introductions with a wave of his beer bottle.

There was Joe, a guy with broad shoulders and seemingly endless tattoos, who had a relaxed and easy-going manner.

Then there was Kate, a short, curvy young woman with dark hair and a dirty laugh.

On the other side of the table was Jamie, the life and soul of the party, with a boyish face and a constant stream of bad jokes that had everyone else creasing.

But by far his favourite was Dana, a dark-skinned woman with hair down to her waist, who immediately pulled Robert down into the booth to sit between her and Daniel. She was brutally honest, with a dry, sarcastic sense of humour and immediately Robert could see the two of them being great friends.

The group all welcomed him without batting an eyelid, and as Robert knocks back another shot of something foul-tasting, he realises that he feels more relaxed and cheerful than he has in a long time. He doesn’t think this night could have gone better, until Dana speaks.

“Help me out guys, you see that guy and girl by the bar… black shirt and red dress… who do you reckon is fitter, ‘cause I can’t decide.” She muses aloud, twirling her straw around in her violently blue cocktail.

The group is busy debating, when Robert’s alcohol-loose tongue blurts out the only thought running around his brain.

“You’re bi?” he asks Dana, surprised.

The group goes quiet, but Dana just coolly raises a carefully sculpted eyebrow.

“Problem?” she asks, and Robert belatedly realises that he’s given off the wrong impression.

“No! God no. I’d be a bit of a hypocrite if I did have a problem, given that I am too… I just don’t meet too many people around here who are, you know…” he trails off, relieved to see understanding wash over the faces round the table.

“Oh my god! I found another one!” Dana yells excitedly, like she’s just found a particularly rare Pokémon, throwing an arm over Robert’s shoulder and making the whole group burst out laughing.

--

“Where did you get to last night then?” Is the question that immediately greets Robert as he goes in search of coffee.

Vic is already sitting at the kitchen table, dressed, with a bowl of cereal in front of her when he slumps down opposite with a steaming mug and a thumping headache. He ignores her mock-scandalised tone.

“Got chatting to some people at the bar… ended up staying longer than I expected.” He says.

“You? Making friends?” Vic questions.

Robert just reaches for a stray cheerio on the table, and flicks it at his sister in retaliation, laughing when it lands in her loose hair.

“Well it seems like you had a good night.” She says genuinely. “I’m glad, it’s nice to see you smiling again”.

His phone chimes, and he pauses to read the message (from Kate, asking him how his head feels this morning, followed by a string of emojis), before replying to Vic.

“Yeah. Yeah it is.”

[winchesters-imagine]

Supernatural S1 Ep 6 - Skin

A/N: Any feedback would be v much appreciated:)

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Word Count: 9,760 (it’s long but worth it) Warnings: angsty shifter?

tags: @sojustturnyourface @skeletoresinthebasement@msdooos@edward-lover18@castielgirl21 @typicalweirdbookworm @the-lightning-bolt-8 

You duck from the incoming jacket that Sam throws your way with a small laugh. He turns and picks up his phone shortly afterwards, as you pull his jacket into your lap. 

“Alright, I figure we’d hit Tucumcari by lunch, then head south, hit Bisbee by midnight,” Dean says, pulling over into a gas station and turning off the engine. 

“Yes, sir,” You joke, pretending to salute him. He smiles before looking over at Sam, who doesn’t respond.

“Sam wears women’s underwear,” Dean attempts to grab Sam’s attention.

I’ve been listenin’, I’m just busy,” He says quickly in a quiet voice. “Busy doin’ what?” You ask. “Reading e-mails,” He replies, as Dean gets out of the car, but then stops and leans into the open window. 

“E-mails from who?” Dean asks, walking around the car to start filling it with gas. “From my friends at Stanford,” Sam replies, opening another email.

You lean forwards and lean on the back of Dean’s seat.

“Why not?” Sam asks with a shrug.  “Well, what exactly do you tell them? You know, about where you’ve been, what you’ve been doin’?” You ask curiously.

“I tell ‘em I’m on a road trip with my big brother and sister. I tell ‘em I needed some time off after Jess,” He explains. Dean puts the gas hose in and leans against the side of the car, slipping his hands into his pockets as he glances into the window.

“Oh, so you lie to ‘em,” He figures. “No. I just don’t tell ‘em….everything,” Sam defends.

“Yeah, that’s called lying,” You reply. “But I mean, hey, man, I get it, tellin’ the truth is far worse.”

“So, what am I supposed to do, just cut everybody out of my life?” He asks. Dean shrugs. “You’re serious?” Sam asks in shock. He turns to you. 

“What do you think, Y/N?”

“Oh, well-I, personally-” You stumble over your words as you have trouble telling Sam that all the people you knew drifted away, after you would leave for days at a time to go on hunts, and you weren’t able to talk to them.

“Look, it sucks, but in a job like this, you can’t get close to people, period,” Dean interrupts. “You’re kind of anti-social, you know that?” Sam shoots.  “Yeah, whatever,” Dean replies as Sam continues to read his messages. You spot Sam’s expression contort into one of confusion and concern as he reads another email, and you lean forwards. He lets you read it over his shoulder, and you furrow your eyebrows.

“God….” You comment. “What?” Dean asks, leaning into the window again, resting his hand on top of the roof. “In this e-mail from this girl, Rebecca Warren, one of those friends of mine,” Sam starts.

“Is she hot?” Dean asks. Sam ignores him, but you send him a ‘Really?” look. 

“I went to school with her, and her brother, Zack. She says Zack’s been charged with murder. He’s been arrested for killing his girlfriend. Rebecca says he didn’t do it, but it sounds like the cops have a pretty good case,” Sam explains.

“Dude, what kind of people are you hangin’ out with?” Dean asks, reading the screen.

“No, man, I know Zack. He’s no killer,” Sam insists. “Well, maybe you know Zack as well as he knows you.” You watch your brothers argue, not wanting to be caught up in the middle of it, but knowing that there’s something fishy about the situation.

“They’re in St. Louis. We’re goin’,” Sam states. Dean chuckles as you pull yourself further forwards.

“Look, sorry ‘bout your buddy, okay? But this does not sound like our kind of problem.”

“It is our problem. They’re his friends,” You add. “I think there’s something off about this - we should go, Dean,” You try to convince him.

“St. Louis is four hundred miles behind us, Y/N.” You and Sam glance at each other quickly before turning to Dean and giving him the best puppy eyes you can. Dean looks at both of you before audibly groaning. 

“I hate it when you two do that,” He grumbles, before paying for the gas. 

You high five Sam and fall into the back seat as Dean pulls out of the gas station, turning the car around.

“You sure this is the one?” You ask Sam as Dean pulls up to a house that Sam had given directions to.

“I’m sure,” He  says, before climbing out of the car. You and Dean exchange a look before following him, jogging to keep up as Sam knocks on the door.

 “Oh my God, Sam!” An attractive blonde girl opens the door, her face brightening when she sees your younger brother.

“Well, if it isn’t little Becky,” Sam teases.

“You know what you can do with that little Becky crap,” She retorts, making Sam smile. The both hug before Sam pulls back.

“I got your e-mail,” He says. “I didn’t think that you would come here.”

You and Dean step forward at the same time to introduce yourselves, and start battling for the first spot, shuffling your feet in front of each other. 

You let Dean win, not wanting to make a scene. He extends his hand for her to shake.

“Dean. Older brother,” He introduces, before they shake hands. “Hi,” She smiles. “Hi.”

You nudge Dean not-so-subtly out of the way before extending your hand.

“Y/N. Older sister. We’re here to help, whatever we can do,” You smile/

“Come in,” She lets you all into her house, and Dean pushes the door shut behind him. You look around the house as you pass through various rooms. It was a large house, and looks comfortable. Overall, it gave the ‘rich person’ vibe.

“Nice place,” You comment. “It’s my parents’. I was just crashing here for the long weekend when everything happened. I decided to take the semester off. I’m gonna stay until Zack’s free,” Rebecca explains.

“Where are your folks?” Sam asks. “They live in Paris for half the year, so they’re on their way home now for the trial,” She replies. You all arrive in the kitchen. “Do you guys want a beer or something?”

Dean grins, and points a finger to what you thought was the fridge. “Hey—” He drags the ‘eey’ before you cut him off. “No, thanks.” Dean retracts his hand.

“So, tell us what happened,” Sam says, leaning on the other side of the breakfast bar, which Rebecca was also leaning on. You copy his actions.

“Well, um, Zack came home, and he found Emily tied to a chair. And she was beaten up and bloody, and she wasn’t breathing,” Rebecca’s voice cracks as her eyes start to shimmer.

“So, he called 911, and the police—they showed up, and they arrested him. But, the thing is, the only way that Zack could’ve killed Emily is if he was in two places at the same time. The police—they have a video. It’s from the security tape from across the street. And it shows Zack coming home at 10:30. Now, Emily was killed just after that, but I swear, he was here with me, having a few beers until at least after midnight,” She continues. Your heart sinks, knowing that something was wrong here. 

“You know, maybe we could see the crime scene. Zack’s house,” Sam suggests. “We could,” You agree. “Why? I mean, what could you do?” Rebecca asks.

“Well, me, not much,” Sam chuckles. “And Y/N just got out of school,” He continues, taking advantage of how young you look. “But Dean’s a cop,” Sam looks over at Dean. You don’t miss Dean’s ‘What-the-hell-are-you-doing?’ micro-expression before he laughs nervously. 

You always pick up on Dean’s expressions that don’t last for longer than a second. It’s a talent of yours. 

“Detective, actually,” Dean clarifies. “Really?” Rebecca asks, earning a nod from Dean. “Where?”

“Bisbee, Arizona. But I’m off-duty now,” He uses the location you were on your way to, and you’re impressed at how smoothly he’s lying.

“You guys, it’s so nice to offer, but I just—I don’t know,” Rebecca says.

“Bec, look, I know Zack didn’t do this. Now, we have to find a way to prove that he’s innocent,” Sam persuades.

“Okay. I’m gonna go get the keys,” She turns and walks away down the hall.

Dean whistles sarcastically when she’s gone, walking in front of Sam. “Oh, yeah, man, you’re a real straight shooter with your friends,” He says sarcastically.

“Look, Zack and Becky need our help,” Sam insists. “I just don’t think this is our kind of problem,” Dean continues, his natural smile working its way onto his face. You raise an eyebrow.

“Dude, two places at once? We’ve looked into less,” You say teasingly. Dean looks at you, raising his eyebrows and pressing his lips into a thin line, but says nothing, defeated. You smirk to yourself for your achievement.

Dean parks the car next to Zack’s house, where Rebecca had pointed you all to.

“You’re sure this is okay?” Rebecca asks Dean as you approach the door. “Yeah. I am an officer of the law,” He confirms, unlocking the door and entering the house. You duck under the police tap behind Dean, grimacing when you see that the furniture and walls of the house are smeared with blood. 

There are papers and fruit on one of the tables with playing cards and magazines.  You notice that Rebecca stays on the porch steps

“Bec, you wanna wait outside?” Sam asks as you stick with Dean, investigating the surroundings.

“No. I wanna help,” She says, ducking under the tape and following you and your brothers.

“Tell us what else the police said,” Sam says.

“Well, there’s no sign of a break-in. They say that Emily let her attacker in. The lawyers—they’re already talking about plea bargain,” You can hear the pain in her voice and how close she is to crying. “Oh, God…” She sobs.

“Look, Bec, if Zack didn’t do this, it means someone else did. Any idea who?” Sam asks in his soft voice. You look around at the yellow cards with black numbers on them, indicating the order in which the scene happened. It was a grizzly scene, and you followed the numbers as Rebecca continues talking.

“Um, there was something, about a week before. Somebody broke in here and stole some clothes—Zack’s clothes. The police—they don’t think it’s anything. I mean, we’re not that far from downtown. Sometimes people get robbed.”

You hear a dog barking after replaying the scene in your head. If Zack was the kind guys who Sam was describing, there’s no way he could have murdered his girlfriend so brutally.

You walk with Dean to find Sam in the hallway. You follow Sam’s gaze to see a picture of himself, Zack and Rebecca.

“So, the neighbor’s dog went psycho right around the time Zack’s girlfriend was killed,” Dean tells you both.

“Animals can have a sharp sense of the paranormal,” You reply.

“Yeah, maybe Fido saw somethin’,” Dean agrees. “So, you think maybe this is our kind of problem?” Sam asks, a smile tugging at his lips.

“No. Probably not,” Dean says. You open your mouth to protest, but he cuts you off. “But we should look at the security tape, you know, just to make sure.”

You all agree as Rebecca walks over to you.

“So, the tape. The security footage—you think maybe your lawyers could get their hands on it, ‘cause I just don’t have that kind of jurisdiction,” Dean starts.

“I’ve already got it. I didn’t wanna say something in front of the cop,” Rebecca says. Dean laughs. “I stole it off the lawyer’s desk. I just had to see it for myself.”

“All right,” Dean says smugly, before you all leave.

Rebecca loads the security tape into the television, hitting play as you and Dean sit on the arm of the couch with Rebecca as Sam stands in front of the screen holding the remote for it, holding it to his chin.

You watch the black and white tape as it shows a man walking into Zack’s house.

“Here he comes,” Rebecca commentates. 

“22:04, that’s just after ten,” You read, noticing the timestamp at the bottom of the screen. “You said time of death was about 10:30,” Dean finishes your observation.

“Our lawyers hired some kind of video expert. He says the tape’s authentic. It wasn’t tampered with,” Rebecca explains. You look up just in time to see Sam’s eyes squint at the screen, as he lowers the remote. He takes a breath before turning in your direction, meeting your eyes briefly.

“Hey, Bec, can we take those beers now?” He asks.

“Oh, sure,” She says, getting up to go to the kitchen. You and Dean watch her leave before Sam adds to his comment.

“Hey, uh,” He starts, making her turn around. “Maybe some sandwiches, too?” He asks with a playful smirk. You know what he’s doing by now. He’s noticed something and he needs Rebecca out of the room to tell you.

“What do you think this is, Hooters?” She laughs lightly, before leaving the room.

“I wish,” Dean mutters almost dreamily, before following you as you make your way over to Sam. “What is it?” You ask.

“Check this out,” Sam starts, holding the remote towards the screen before rewinding and replaying the tape. One of the four frames depicts Zack looking directly at the camera. His eyes are an unnatural silver. Sam pauses the tape.

“Well, maybe it’s just a camera flare,” Dean shrugs. “I don’t think so, De. That’s not like any camera flare I’ve ever seen,” You state, leaning forwards to look closer at the hazy screen.

“You know, a lot of cultures believe that a photograph can catch a glimpse of the soul,” Sam starts.

“Right,” Dean urges him to continue.

“Remember that dog that was freakin’ out?” Sam asks. 

“Maybe he saw this thing. Maybe this is some kind of dark double of Zack’s, something that looks like him but isn’t him,” You suggest.

“Like a Doppelganger,” Dean adds. “Yeah. It’d sure explain how he was two places at once,” Sam replies.

“I didn’t see Zack coming out,” You say. “So how would he re enter?” You ask yourself, loud enough so that your brothers can hear, but quiet enough for them to know they didn’t need to reply.

You then rub your eyes, which start to sting from fatigue. “Does this mean late night research?” You groan.  “Maybe - but hey, you can sleep when Dean drives after,” Sam shrugs. You nod and laugh as Dean shoots Sam an ‘I-gotta-sleep-too!’, look.

You and your brothers return to your motel room after saying goodbye to Rebecca. As usual, there were two beds, leaving you to decide which one of your brothers you would bunk with. 

“Y/N? You going with me?” Dean asks, pulling his shirt off as you toss your jacket into a nearby chair. 

“Yeah, sure. Gimme a sec,” You reply, grabbing a loose shirt and some shorts before walking to change in the bathroom, locking the door behind you. 

After changing, you stuff your previous clothes into your duffel and slide in next to Dean, who was waiting for you. Sam had fallen asleep in the other bed while you were changing, and you can see the covers on top of him rising and falling slowly.

Dean wraps his arms around you and pulls you into his chest, and you let your eyes close before falling asleep.

You wake up to cold water being splashed on your face, halting your breathing for a second. Your only reaction is letting out a small scream and bolting up before getting over the temporary shock to see Sam holding a glass in his hands, expression amused.

Just after this, Dean sits up quickly and sticks an arm out in front of you, probably to knock away any danger that was there. 

You wipe your face and sigh after Dean realises that it was just his brother, and falls back onto the bed. 

“Y/N, shush! You’ll wake everyone up!” Sam teases in a voice just above a whisper. 

“Wake everyone up? What time is it…?” You trail off, picking up your phone and checking the time. “Five? You gotta be kidding, bud,” You groan. 

Sam shrugs. “We’re leaving in ten - Zack’s house. I’ll see you in the car,” He picks up his bag and throws it over his shoulder, before leaving the room.

“How..?” You gesture towards Sam’s high energy level. Dean sits up properly and swings his legs over the side of the bed. “Beats me. Literally. We’d better get ready,” He mumbles, standing up. 

The shock of the cold water has gone away, and you can’t really be bothered walking all the way to the bathroom to get changed, so instead, you just change by your bag, glad that you kept your underwear on least night. 

“Uh, Y/N?” Dean questions awkwardly after you pull your shirt off. “You’re my brother, you’re not supposed to care,” You shoot. You feel Dean shrug behind you. “Works for me,” He says. 

After you both finish getting changed, you tuck a pistol into your waistband and follow Dean out to the Impala, where Sam was comfortably sitting in shotgun, resting his head against the window with his eyes shut. 

You smirk at Dean, watching as he carefully opens the driver’s door, before turning the keys in the car, smiling proudly to himself as the engine calmly roars to life. He then proceeds to lean into the car and ‘accidentally’ on the steering wheel. 

The horn even makes you jump, but you can’t resist laughing as Sam jerks awake, eyes wide. “Son of a-” You see his lips move. Stifling your laugh, you slide into the back.

“How you doin’, Sammy?” You tease. Sam throws a smirk at you while Dean climbs into the driver seat and starts the engine. 

Dean parks the car behind Zack’s house and stops the engine before you all get out. The cold air makes you shiver at first, but you get used to it after a few minutes. 

“Alright, so what are we doin’ here at 5:30 in the morning?” Dean breaks the silence that had fallen over you by asking the question you and him are both wondering.

“I realized something. The videotape shows the killer goin’ in, but not comin’ out,” Sam starts, stopping next to you on the same side of the car, Dean holding the coffee he had picked up along the way standing opposite you.

“So, he came out the back door?” You ask, watching as Sam crosses the street as Dean leans on the hood of Baby, sipping his coffee.

“Right. So, there should be a trail to follow. A trail the police would never pursue,” Sam walks over to a dumpster and peers inside before turning around and glancing at the floor, finding nothing.

“‘Cause they think the killer never left. And they caught your friend Zack inside. I still don’t know what we’re doin’ here at 5:30 in the morning,” Dean states as you cross the road over to Sam, noticing a stain on a nearby telephone pole. “Sam,” You start, squinting and leaning closer towards it. Dark red.  

“Blood. Somebody came this way,” You say when Sam comes over, but loud enough for Dean to hear. 

“Yeah, but the trail ends. I don’t see anything over here,” Dean says casually, looking around lazily. 

You glance up the pole, your head snapping back down when you hear an ambulance driving past sirens blaring, making your eardrums ache. You and your brothers follow it as it drives past, heading turning simultaneously. You and Sam glance at Dean. exchanging a look of concern.

You all start briskly walking in the same direction the ambulance went in, following it and ending up at what looks like a crime scene. 

A man is taping police tape around trees and you see an Asian man in a suit is handcuffed and is being pushed into a police car.

You and your brothers enter the crowd, as Dean approaches a nearby woman. 

“What happened?” Dean asks. “He tried to kill his wife. Tied her up and beat her.” “Really?” You ask in disbelief. 

“I used to see him going to work in the morning. He’d wave, say hello. He seemed like such a nice guy.” 

The car starts and the man is taken away.

You all move to the side of the house, investigating. You look around with Sam, finding two garbage cans. Deciding you’d better be safe than sorry, you open them and look inside, of course, finding nothing but the dank stench of rotting food.

You jump when you feel someone’s breath on the back of your neck. 

“Hey,” Dean says. You spin around, and see the Sam is already standing behind him. “Remember when I said this wasn’t our kind of problem?” Dean asks.

“Yeah,” You reply. “Definitely our kind of problem,” Dean says confidently. “What’d you find out?” Sam asks.

“Well, I just talked to the patrolman who was first on the scene, heard this guy, Alex’s story. Apparently the dude was driving home from a business trip when his wife was attacked,” Dean explains, throwing his thumb behind him and letting it drop.

“So, he was two places at once,” You figure. “Exactly. Then he sees himself in the house, police think he’s a nutjob,” Dean continues. “Two dark doubles attacking loved ones in exactly the same way,” Sam says. “Could be the same thing doin’ it, too,” You suggest, watching as your brothers think for a second.

“Shapeshifter?” Sam asks. Dean shrugs as you realise that Sam’s suggestion makes sense. “Something that can make itself look like anyone?” Sam clarifies for Dean.

“Every culture in the world has a shapeshifter lore. You know, legends of creatures who can transform themselves into animals or other men,” You say.

“Right, skinwalkers, werewolves,” Sam agrees. You both turn to Dean after your exchange.

“We’ve got two attacks within blocks of each other. I’m guessin’ we’ve got a shapeshifter prowlin’ the neighborhood,” He concludes.

“Let me ask you this—in all this shapeshifter lore, can any of them fly?” Sam asks you, starting to walk a few steps before turning around. You assume he’s referring to his investigations.

“Not that I know of,” You shrug.

“I picked up a trail here. Someone ran out the back of this building and headed off this way.”

“Just like your friend’s house,” Dean states. “Yeah. And, just like at Zack’s house, the trail suddenly ends. I mean, whatever it is just disappeared,” Sam stresses.

“Well, there’s another way to go…” You pause for a moment before continuing. “Down.”

You all glance down, noticing a manhole a little to the left of Sam. 

“She’s right,” Sam shrugs, kneeling down and prying the manhole cover off. You lead the way, grabbing hold of the cold-not to mention damp- rungs of the metal ladder, dropping down and waiting for at least one of your brothers to also drop before taking a few steps down a passage to have a look around.

“I bet this runs right by Zack’s house, too. The shapeshifter could be using the sewer system to get around,” Sam says when he gets down, his voice echoing slightly.

“I think you’re right. Look at this,” Dean beckons you over and invites you to bend down to examine a pile of blood and skin, which dean pokes at with his pocket blade, merged together into a goopy pile. You lift a hand to your nose to at least block out a little of the smell.

You smirk at your brothers’ faces. Sam is grimacing, and Dean looks like he’s about to puke. 

“Is this from his victims?” Sam asks as Dean holds up some of the skin with his knife. You look at it in disgust, before an idea clicks in your brain.

“You know, I just had a sick thought. When the shapeshifter changes shape—maybe it sheds,” You suggest.

“That is sick” Dean agrees, dropping the goop back into the pile.

Part 2:

You all stand up and climb out of the sewer, jogging the short distance to Baby. You glance over at Sam who was keeping pace with you, Dean a little further behind. 

“Remember when we used to race each other at times like this?” You breathe. Sam looks over and smiles at you.  “Yeah, I do.” “Remember we used to keep p-points?” “Yeah…” “We never got to s-settle the one-all out of three,” You pant. 

Sam smirks, and you know exactly what he’s about to do. He takes off sprinting, arms moving back and forth at an incredible pace. 

You quickly adapt to match his speed, speeding up until your legs went numb and your lungs are screaming for air. 

You’re soon running alongside him, but unfortunately as he’s taller, every step he takes equals to three of yours.

Still, you’re able to move your legs faster and soon stumble into the hood of Baby, panting heavily as Sam slows down about four seconds behind you. You lean against Baby for support, regaining your breath. 

“Damn, sweet. You got fast,” Sam comments with a smile, leaning on a nearby streetlight. Thankfully it’s still daytime, so you can see that Dean is around twenty metres behind you, still jogging at a leisurely pace. 

“Hunting kept me in shape. I can still run, little brother,” You tease, standing up when you hear Dean call your name. 

“Y/N! Go long!” He calls. You stand up and start getting ready to catch the keys he had in his right hand, ready to throw. 

“Ready!” You call, jogging backwards gently as he picks up the pace to shorten the distance between you two. He launches the keys in your direction and you watch them as they fly through the air. 

You takes a few steps back and catch the sharp keys neatly in your hands, laughing lightly as you go to the trunk of Baby, inserting the key into the lock and turning it, lifting the the trunk lid up.

Dean joins you and Sam, immediately propping the lid of the arsenal open and rummaging for weapons.

“Well, one thing I learned from Dad, is that no matter what kind of shapeshifter it is, there’s one sure way to kill it,” Dean states after catching his breath and loading silver bullets into magazines.

“Silver bullet to the heart,” You say.

“That’s right,” Dean smirks, just before Sam’s cell phone starts to ring.

“This is Sam,” He takes a few steps away from Baby. You can only hear a few snippets of the conversation from Sam’s side as you help Dean with the guns.

“We’re near Zack’s, we’re just checkin’ some things out.”

Pause.

“What are you talkin’ about?” Sam asks in shock, before scoffing a few moments later. “Why would you do that?”

You look over at Dean, who shares a confused glance with you. 

“Bec—” Sam’s cut off by the person on the other end, who you now know is Rebecca.

“We’re tryin’ to help,” Sam pleads. You swallow nervously.  “She found out?” You mouth to Dean. He shrugs as Sam speaks again.

“Bec, I’m sorry, but—” Sam stops talking and drops his arm by his side as he leans on one of Baby’s doors. You and Dean both walk up to him, and you see the disappointment etched onto Sam’s face.

“I hate to say it, but that’s exactly what I’m talkin’ about. You lie to your friends because if they knew the real you, they’d be freaked. It’s just—it’d be easier if—” Dean starts.

“If I was like you,” Sam cuts him off. Your eyes widen, and you hope that this isn’t going to turn into an argument.

“Hey, bud, like it or not, we are not like other people,” You chime in. “But I’ll tell you one thing. This whole gig—it ain’t without perks,” You pull Sam’s gun from your waistband witch a smirk. He gives you a small smile and takes it, tucking it into the back of his jeans as you all walk back to the sewers.

This time around, you have flashlights and guns as you navigate the sewers, Dean in front, you in the middle, and Sam bringing up the rear.

You take multiple turns, the sewer smell getting stronger and stronger as you travel further into the sewers. You don’t want to know what was squelching lightly underneath your feet as you walk.

You shine your flashlight around as you walk, trying to find any sign of a shapeshifter.

You reach the main passage in the sewers, with the wide and deep stream of sewage flowing in a straight line past you. 

You all take one long step over it at the same time, Sam gently tugging on your arm after acknowledging your shorter legs and slight struggle in getting across.

Sam takes the lead, Dean behind, and you at the back, gun aimed in front of him, after you see that the next passage is closer to him. You look around and silently gag at the gory sight on the large pipes to your right.

“I think we’re close to its lair,” You state, keeping your flashlight on the pile, causing Sam to stop moving and face you.

“Why do you say that?” He asks. “Because there’s another puke-inducing pile next to your face,” You motion towards the pile. 

Sam turns and recoils, turning his head away with a truly disgusted look on his face.

“Oh, God!” You stifle a giggle before looking around and seeing a pile of clothes in the corner along with another mixture of skin and blood. 

“Looks like it’s lived here for a while,” Dean states, leaning against the wall and facing Sam.

“Who knows how many murders he’s gotten away with?” Sam asks, turning to face you. His eyes immediately widen. “Y/N!” He yells in warning.

You turn around to see the Asian man with white eyes. As soon as you turn, you feel a sharp pain on the side of your face, knocking you backwards into Dean, only after hitting your arm on a pipe on your way down though. Dean holds you up as Sam takes a few shots with his gun as the shifter sprints away, but misses. 

You groan as you stand up and your brothers attempt to come to your aid. 

“Get the son of a bitch!” You instruct, shaking your arm out after your brothers take off. You sprint to stay on their heels as the shifter navigates its way out of the sewers. 

You follow it up the ladder, Sam, Dean, and then you. Dean helps haul you out just in case you had something more than a bruise on your arm. You look around, but see nothing around you in the park you end up in, the daylight long gone.

“All right, let’s split up,” You propose, holding your gun tight. “All right, we’ll all meet around the other side,” Dean agrees. “All right,” Sam nods. 

You feel Dean pat your shoulder as he runs in an opposite direction to you, Sam running the other way entirely.

“Where would a monster go?” You say to yourself. “A dark place probably.”

You start running down an almost empty street and pause. “Alleyways. Of course,” You breathe sarcastically, making your way down it with your hand hovering over your pocket in your jacket.

The alley is empty apart from a few people, and you end up finding nothing. You make your way to the street corner and wait for your brothers nervously, secretly hoping that neither of them had run into the shifter.

Dean’s voice grabs your attention. “Hey.” You turn around to see him walking up behind you. “Anything?” He asks, arms open.

“No. He’s gone,” You sigh.

“All right, let’s get back to the car.”

You sigh, but cross the street anyway, walking into Sam halfway up.  “You find anything?” You ask. He shakes his head. “You?” You also shake your head as you make your way back to Baby.

“You think he found another way underground?” Sam asks as you approach.

“Yeah, probably. You got the keys?” Dean asks. You check your pockets just in case you kept them earlier, but your pockets are empty. Sam takes a moment to respond. 

“Hey, didn’t Dad once face a shapeshifter in San Antonio?” Sam asks, pulling the keys from his pocket. “Oh, that was Austin. It turned out not to be a shapeshifter, it was a thought form. A psychic projection, remember?” Dean replies. You furrow your eyebrows, remembering that hunt. Sam had the right details.

“Oh, right,” You can see the cogs turning in Sam’s brain. “Here ya go,” Sam throws the keys to Dean, which he catched with one hand. You follow Sam as he walks away and Dean opens the trunk.

“Y/N,” Sam grabs your uninjured shoulder and pulls your towards him. 

“That isn’t Dean,” He says firmly in your ear, pulling out his gun. “What? How do you know?” You shoot back. “Just follow my lead.”

You also take out your gun and follow Sam as he points the gun at Dean, who was looking inside the trunk with an unreadable smirk on his face. One that you’ve never seen on the real Dean before. Was Sam right?

“Don’t move!” Sam shouts at Dean firmly, holding the gun. Dean immediately stands up to face you and Sam, both pointing guns at him. “What have you done with him?” Sam demands.

“Dude, chill. It’s me, all right?” Dean says calmly, his hands raised in a surrender position. 

“No, I don’t think so. Where’s my brother?” Sam’s quick to respond and demand an answer.

“You’re about to shoot him! Sam, calm down. Y/N, tell him,” Dean insists.  “Sorry, Dean,” Your gut is telling you to go with Sam on this one, especially as he looks like he’s just about to justify himself.

“You caught those keys with your left. Your shoulder was hurt after Y/N fell into you,” Sam states. You bite your lip, making a mental note to apologise to Dean later.

“Yeah, it’s better. What do you want me to do, cry?” Dean asks sarcastically. “You’re not my brother,” Something clicks in your brain that points out everything that isn’t like Dean.

“Why don’t you pull the trigger, then? Hm? ‘Cause you’re not sure. Guys, you know me,” Dean pleads.

“Don’t,” Sam says sharply. There’s a short pause before Dean hits Sam twice with a crowbar from the trunk, knocking him out, making you jump and drop next to him. 

“Sam! Wake up!” You shake his shoulder desperately.

“Your turn, sweetheart,” is all you hear before feeling a sharp pain around your head.

You wake up in a dingy, dusty room. You know you’re tied up, as your movement is restricted. You gasp for breath, realising that your neck is tied with your wrists tightly around a wooden pole. Your chest is also restricted, in addition to rope tied around your hips.

You hear footsteps and force your head to turn to see Dean-no, the shifter walking with a candle lamp and a  large roll of rope in each of his arms. 

He sees that you’re awake and stalks over to you, making your heart beat faster with every footstep. The suspense is agonising, until he backhands you hard, knocking your head back into the pole. 

You groan loudly, your head pounding.

“Where are they? Where are my brothers?” You manage to croak out once you regain your composure. The shifter has walked just outside of your peripheral vision, probably to empty the contents of his arms.

“I wouldn’t worry about them. I’d worry about you,” The shifter replies maliciously, returning with a large duffel bag full of objects you can’t make out. 

This still makes you even more nervous.

“Where are they?” You demand. The shifter turns again.

“You don’t really wanna know,” He chuckles. Not a loud, resonanting chuckle. A light, evil chuckle from his nose.  “I swear, the more I learn about you and your family—I thought I came from a bad background.” He continues.

“What do you mean, learn?” You ask as the shifter picks up a large blade. He looks at you for a second before grimacing and stopping. He grabs his head in pain and squeezes his eyes shut. The sight sends mixed emotions to you.

You have to keep reminding yourself that it isn’t Dean who is having a painful headache. That’s almost what it looks like, anyway.

The shifter then relaxes after a few moments of him holding a fist to his lips, and looks at you again.

“He’s sure got issues with you,” He says almost painfully, advancing towards you. “The woman of the family, Dad’s little girl. He would’ve let you do anything besides hunting,” He drops something you can’t quite make out by your feet.

 “You could have been out. He had to stay home. I mean, I had to stay home. With Dad. You don’t think I had dreams of my own? But Dad needed me. Where the hell were you when you wanted to ‘hunt alone’?”

“Where is my brother?” You insist, this time referring to Dean so that you know he isn’t dead. The shifter leans in close before straddling your waist.

“I am your brother.” He pulls out a small pocket knife.

“See, deep down, I’m just jealous,” He explains, brushing the cold metal against the sides of your face almost too gently.  “You make easily make friends. You could have a life. Me? I know I’m a freak. And sooner or later, everybody’s gonna leave me,” The shifter stands up and backs away a little. 

“What are you talkin’ about?” You ask.

“You left. Hell, I did everything Dad asked me to, and he ditched me, too. No explanation, nothin’, just poof. Left me with you and little Sammy’s sorry asses,” He says, picking up a big piece of fabric from the side and walking with it in front of you. You have the worst ideas from it. What is he going to do? 

“But, still, this life? It’s not without its perks,” He laughs, throwing his arms out for a second. “I meet the nicest people. Like little Becky,” Your jaw clenches. “You know, Dean would bang her if he had the chance. Let’s see what happens,” He smiles at you before throwing the sheet over your body. You sigh in relief that he didn’t do anything to you on one hand, but where are your brothers?

Part 3:

You manage to throw the sheet off of your face, and try to move your fingers to find anything to cut your ropes, but to no avail. 

“Damn it,” You curse, freezing when you hear movement in another area of the room, along with someone coughing./p>

“That better be you, Y/N, and not that freak of nature,” Dean voice echoes and you laugh in relief. 

“Yeah, it’s me. Sam?” You call out. There’s no answer. “Sammy?!” Dean calls louder, before you hear a gasp of breath and more coughing from somewhere in Dean’s direction. 

“Oh, thank god,” You sigh in relief. You hear Dean struggling as he starts to undo his ropes. “He went to Rebecca’s, lookin’ like you De,” You say.

“Well, he’s not stupid. He picked the handsome one,” Dean retorts. You snort, and you know that Sam is giving him a confused look as Dean continues to undo his ropes.

You can hear every strand of rope snapping as Dean pulls his arms up and down.

“Here’s the thing. He didn’t just look like you, he was you. Or he was becoming you,” You explain before hearing the rope fully snap.

“What do you mean?” Dean asks.

“I don’t know, it was like he was downloading your thoughts and memories,” You say. hearing Sam’s rope snap this time.

“You mean, like the Vulcan mind meld?” Dean asks as you pull on your ropes, resisting the one on your neck threatening to cut off your air supply. “Yeah, somethin’ like that,” You agree. “Maybe that’s why he doesn’t just kill us,” Sam suggests. You hear Dean stand up and his footsteps make his way over to you.

“Maybe he needs to keep us alive. Psychic connection,” Dean suddenly appears to your right, and you can feel his hands untying the rope binding your wrists together. 

“Yeah. Come on, we gotta go. He’s probably at Rebecca’s already,” You say. Sam catches up a few minutes later, working on the rope around your chest as you take your hips. Dean gently unties the rope around your neck and helps you up.

You all run, and find a vent with cool air seeping out of it. “Guys,” You say. 

You climb through first and punch the vent off at the other side, probably bruising your knuckles as you practically fall out onto the ground.

“Come on. We gotta find a phone, call the police,” Sam says urgently, coming out second.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa. You’re gonna put an APB out on me,” Dean protests. Sam shrugs. “Sorry.”

Dean rolls his eyes as you point down the street. “This way,” You know where you are as you start running down the street again with your brothers. This time you aren’t racing against Sam, or Dean. You’re racing against time. The shifter. What is he going to do to Becky?

You keep running until you’re distracted by a news report in a store window. You grab both of your brothers’ jackets, forcing them to stop.

“An anonymous tip led police to a home in the Central West End, where a S.W.A.T team discovered a local woman bound and gagged. Her attacker, a white male, approximately twenty-four to thirty years of age, was discovered hiding in her home,” The reporter says, as a fairly accurate sketch of Dean appears on the screen.

“Man! That’s not even a good picture,” Dean exclaims. You and Sam both look around to make sure nobody heard him.

“It’s good enough,” Sam says, walking away.

“Man!” Dean curses under his breath. You both follow Sam down the street until you all turn into an alley, and Dean steps into a puddle, jumping and swinging his legs to the side to avoid it.

“Come on!” Dean groans. 

“They said attempted murder. At least we know—” “ I didn’t kill her,” Dean interrupts Sam.

“We’ll check with Rebecca in the morning, see if she’s all right,” You say. “All right, but first I wanna find that handsome devil and kick the holy crap out of him,” Dean agrees. You stop walking suddenly, feeling your pockets. Your brothers copy your actions. 

“We have no weapons. No silver bullets,” You state.

“Y/N, the guy’s walkin’ around with my face, okay, it’s a little personal, I wanna find him,” He states. “Okay. Where do we look?” Sam asks.

“Well, we could start with the sewers.”  “We have no weapons. He stole our guns, we need more,” You say. You all stop and think. “The car?” Sam asks. “I’m bettin’ he drove over to Rebecca’s,” Dean comments.

“The news said he fled on foot. I bet it’s still parked there,” You add. Dean raises an open hand as if he was about to give you a really good point, but instead, he clenched it and growled.

“The thought of him drivin’ my car,” He says, clearly upset.

“All right, come on,” Sam gets you all to start walking again. (They start walking.)

“It’s killin’ me,” Dean says painfully. “Let it go,” You say in an attempt to calm him down.

You all run around to the side of Rebecca’s house to see the Impala parked on the side.

“Oh, there she is! Finally, something went right tonight!” Dean exclaims, relieved. You all take a step towards it but freeze when a police car drives around the corner and parks next to it. 

“Oh, crap,” Dean curses, instinctively grabbing your arm to pull you away from them, turning around. However, another police car is parked a few yards away. “This way, this way,” Dean calls out, moving towards a fence.

“You two go. I’ll hold ‘em off,” Sam instructs. “What are you talking about?”  “They’ll catch you.” You and Dean both protested at the same time.

“Look, they can’t hold me. Just go. Dean, keep out of sight. Meet me at Rebecca’s,” Sam says desperately. You and Dean both run and jump up the fence and pull yourselves up onto the top of it.  “Guys!” Sam calls. You both turn your heads. “Stay out of the sewers alone,” He warns. Dean says nothing and turns and swivels off of the fence. You hop off and follow him, hearing Sam in the distance, “I mean it!”

“Yeah, yeah!” Dean calls to him as you run alongside each other.

“Go meet Sam at Rebecca’s! I need to get stuff out of the trunk!” Dean breaks off from you and starts running away. You roll your eyes, knowing that Dean is lying, but he also knows what he’s doing.

You see Sam walking up the front yard to Rebecca’s. 

“Sam!” You call. He turns around. “Y/N! Where’s Dean?” Sam asks.  “He told me to stay to the main street to get here sooner while he takes the alleyways. He could be a while,” You lie as Sam knocks on the door.

Sam decides to explain the real situation to Rebecca, and you both sit in her kitchen talking it out.

“So, say this shapeshifter is real. By the way, you know you’re both crazy? But, um, say it is real. How do you stop it?” Rebecca asks, replacing Sam’s empty beer bottle with a new one and simply taking your empty one.

 “Thanks,” He sighs as you wait for him to say the punchline of what everyone thought was a joke. “Silver bullet to the heart,” He states. Rebecca chuckles. 

“You are crazy,” is all you hear before you feel a sharp pain at the back of your head, and you’re knocked unconscious at the same time as Sam with the empty beer bottles.

You wake up seeing Dean- it’s the shifter, Y/N!- tying up your ankles. He looks up and notices you’ve just woken up. Without missing a beat, he attempts to grab your arms. 

“Sam!” You shout, wriggling to try and get away from the shifter, however he had other ideas. He straddled your waist again, still trying to grab you.

“Give me your hands!” He growls, just as he got them both at the same time. He holds them tightly together before swiftly reaching for a rope and tying them together. The ropes dig into your skin and you groan in annoyance as he drops your hands into your lap and begins to walk around the kitchen. There’s a pile of clothes and goop a few metres away, signalling that the shifter just turned into Dean.

You see Sam unconscious against the opposite wall, tied in the same way as you, yet he was only just stirring a little.

There’s sweat settling on your skin as you lean against what seems like a chair behind you.

“What are you gonna do to me?” You stall, panting slightly. “Oh, I’m not gonna do anything. Dean will, though,” You see his smirk out of the corner of your eye. Before he opens a drawer, looks in it, and slams it shut again.

“They’ll never catch him,” Sam breathe. The shifter directs his attention to Sam. “Oh, doesn’t matter. Murder in the first of his own sister? He’ll be hunted the rest of his life,” The shifter responds after looking in another drawer. He makes his way over to the knife rack, examining a sharp knife he picks up. Your heart beats quickly, and you look over at Sam helplessly.

“And to get his brother to watch? The cops won’t take that lightly,” He smirks. He puts the knife in his duffel and throws it over his shoulder before making his way over to you. 

“Change of location,” He smirks, wrapping one arm around your torso and pulling you into his chest with a hand over your mouth to muffle your screams. 

“Don’t touch her! Leave her alone!” Sam’s pained yells echo through the hall. “I’ll be back for you, Sammy!” Was the only response Sam gets.

The shifter drops you next to a pool table in what you think is the living room, dumping the duffel on the table.

He leaves the room again but comes back with Sam no more than two minutes later, dropping him a meter from you on the floor. He then walks out of your field of vision.

“I must say, I will be sorry to lose this skin. Your brother’s got a lot of good qualities. You should appreciate him more than you do,” As he speaks, he pours himself a drink.

“Cheers,” He says as he walks in between yours and Sam’s bodies, taking a sip and placing it on the table. You hear the knife lightly scrape against the rope in his bag, and you squeeze your eyes shut as you take a deep breath. You open your eyes and flinch when he sticks it into the edge of the pool table.

You watch the shifter’s amused expression briefly, before turning back to Sam, who is looking around him, letting his eyes linger on the knife lastly.

As the shifter looks through his duffel, Sam rocks backwards and kicks the shifter to the ground. You roll under the table to get out of the way as Sam scurries to the knife, rubbing his hands up and down the blade. He takes the knife after he’s free, and you try to twist your hands free from the rope, but it’s too tight.

You hear Sam struggling with the shifter, and flinch when Sam falls and rolls onto the ground back to his feet.

“Oh, you son of a bitch,” The shifter curses as he and Sam begin to fight. The knife drops to the floor and you take your opportunity to cut the ropes. The relief of the pain is sweet, and you roll out from under the table with new found motivation.

 You stand up when the shifter knocks Sam off guard before throwing a sharp punch to his stomach, causing him to double over for a second. You throw in another punch, but he catches your arm and twists it behind your back before grabbing your other arm and pulling that behind you too. There’s a searing pain which almost renders you unable to move. Almost.

You shout in pain before sharply pulling an arm away and twisting in his grip, pushing him down, making him bend forwards. He chuckles.

“Not bad, little sister,” He comments, this time twisting in your grip and backhanding you sharply again. You fall to the side, and Sam steps in.

 “You’re not him,” Sam growls as you crawl out of the way. Sam throws the shifter into the pool table, and the shifter audibly groans in annoyance. He comes back strong, which his hands flying straight to Sam’s neck, batting away his attempts to knock away his grip. 

The shifter knees Sam in the stomach, and he doubles over, and you took this as your cue, as Sam is thrown into a bookshelf, breaking it. All of the books and shelves fall on top of him. Sam tries to crawl away, and you land two punches to the shifter’s abdomen before he kicks you sharply in the diaphragm.

“Even when we were kids, I always kicked your asses,” He says, grabbing a pool cue and swinging it at Sam, but he misses as Sam dodges and rolls over the pool table, and he hits a light fixture instead.

You then realise you’re standing right next to him and start to make a beeline for Sam, but the shifter grabs you around your waist and pulls you into him with the knife at your neck. 

“How about this, huh? I’ll let you catch your breath,” The shifter traces a thin line across your neck. You pant heavily, sweat pulling your clothes to your skin. 

Sam stands again, in a ready stance. You wink subtly at him before pinching the shifter tightly on the tricep closest to you, causing him to let go for a second. 

A second long enough for you to dodge out of his grip and stand ready next to Sam, who throws a punch only for his arm to be caught and him to be kicked, yelling in pain. He then dodges at least four more punches, darting to the side, slightly dizzy from the looks of it.  

You stand ready as the shifter approaches you, and you block a number of his blows, except for the one which went straight for your head, making you fly backwards whilst hitting your head on something hard.

Everything is blurry in your vision, and your head is pounding. The next thing you hear is Dean’s voice, shouting, “Hey!” and then two gunshots.

Your heart beats fast. Dean or shifter?

You hear Rebecca rushing to Sam, and hear heavy footsteps walk past your trembling, semi-conscious body, before coming back a few moments later. Someone crouches in front of you, ever so gently lifting you into their arms, as if you would break with too sharp of a movement.

“Stay with me, sweetheart.” He taps your cheek as your eyes flutter open and shut.

It’s Dean. 

Is it? 

Your body tenses and your heart beats faster, which only makes you slip into sleep quicker. 

“P-please don’t hurt…” You trail off, and Dean pulls you further into his chest, heartbroken. 

 Do you think he’s still the shifter? He stands up and begins to take you over to Sam and Rebecca, before stopping in front of the dead shifter, making sure that it’s truly dead. You fight to keep your eyes open, seeing the figure of the shifter blurry in your vision. 

“Dean,” You say weakly, tapping his chest to tell him to let you down. He slowly drops your legs to the floor, keeping your arm around his shoulders to aid your walking. 

You rub your temples after seeing Sam’s head in Rebecca’s lap. 

“I can’t remember the last hunt like that,” You breathe with a smile.Rebecca pulls Sam to his feet before facing you and Dean. 

Rebecca shows you all to the door. “Thanks, Bec. We’ll stop here before leaving tomorrow,” Sam waves a little before Rebecca also says goodbye, and you all make your way back to the motel.

You wake up in Dean’s arms, facing away from him. Your head’s aching, but it isn’t anything some aspirin won’t fix. 

After you and your brothers arrive at Rebecca’s, you pull a map out of the car and walk with Dean to spread it onto the hood, looking for your dad’s coordinates as Sam talks to Rebecca inside her house. 

“Are you okay?” Dean asks you quietly. You think for a moment.  “Yeah. I will be. Give it a few days,” You pat his hand twice upon hearing Rebecca’s front door open, grabbing your attention. 

You and Dean turn around to see Sam and Rebecca walking out, still talking.

“So, this is what you do? You, your sister, and your brother—you hunt down these kinds of things?” She asks when Dean picks up the map again, stealing glances to their conversation. They continue to talk as you use your finger to follow the lines on the map.

“Yeah, pretty much.” “I can’t believe it. I mean, I saw it with my own eyes. And, I mean, does everybody at school—nobody knows that you do this?” “No.” “Did Jessica know?”

There’s a short pause in the conversation.  “No, she didn’t,” Sam says eventually. “Must be lonely.”

“Oh, no. No, it’s not so bad,” Sam denies quickly. You look up to see him looking at you, offering a small smile. “Anyway, what can I do? It’s my family.”

Rebecca laughs a little. “Well, you know, Zack and me, and everybody at school—we really miss you,” Rebecca hugs Sam tightly, and you don’t catch what he says next as you look back down before Dean folds the map and places it in his jacket. 

“Well, will you call sometime?” Rebecca asks. “It might not be for a little while,” Sam responds. Rebecca nods and turns to wave at you and Dean. You both wave back before she goes back inside the house.

Sam walks over to you and Dean.

“So, what about your friend, Zack?” You ask, making your way to your car door.

“Cops are blamin’ this Dean Winchester guy for Emily’s murder. They found the murder weapon in the guy’s lair, Zack’s clothes stained with her blood. Now they’re thinking maybe the surveillance tape was tampered with. Yeah, Becca says Zack will be released soon,” You smile as Dean rolls his eyes and getting into the car.

You climb in behind Sam. “Next time, I’m calling shotgun,” You smirk. Sam smiles and shakes his head as Dean drives away.

“Sorry, man,” Dean says, breaking the silence of the car ride. “About what?” “I really wish things could be different, you know? I wish you could just be….Joe College,” Dean says sincerely. “No, that’s okay. You know, the truth is, even at Stanford, deep down, I never really fit in,” Sam replies. 

“Well, that’s ‘cause you’re a freak,” Dean says. “Yeah, thanks.” “Well, I’m a freak, too, and so is Y/N,” Dean comforts.

“We’re right there with ya, all the way,” You wink. Sam laughs lightly. “Yeah, I know you are.”

“You know, I gotta say—I’m sorry I’m gonna miss it,” Dean changes the subject slightly. “Miss what?” You ask.

“How many chances am I gonna have to see my own funeral?”

You and Sam smile at each other, before you turn to stare back out of the window.

[thesinglesjukebox]

JUKEBOX THE GHOST - EVERYBODY'S LONELY

[2.67]

More like "Jukebox the Singles" am I right???

Tim de Reuse: I remember when Jukebox the Ghost got their start as a bunch of macabre-obsessed goofballs, writing a couple of albums that were full of apocalyptic narratives, elaborate fever dreams, and meditations on the nature of god, where they kept all their instrumentation simple and revealed themselves to actually be damn good at playing their instruments despite their saccharine indie-pop exterior. They haven't been interested in working on that level for some time now, but in this song there's a tiny, tiny spark of the genuine wit they used to have, and it's just infuriating. Ten years ago they would've knocked this subject matter out of the park, and now it's overproduced, streamlined, seventy percent chorus, and accompanied by a slick video featuring a bunch of dancers staring at their phones. Sure, I'm not judging this fairly on its own merits, but firstly -- well, I'm just bitter that they ended up this way -- and secondly, there's so little to this song in isolation that I don't have much else to write about. [3]

Claire Biddles: I know mid-to-early 00s nostalgia is slowly creeping into pop culture but an album track by The Feeling as a lead single in 2018? I have suffered enough. [1]

Will Rivitz: First impressions are important: though this song finally settles into a satisfying groove around its chorus, the Broadway camp of the piano and the stodgily syrupy falsetto of its beginning is so viscerally upsetting that my stomach literally churned on first listen. [3]

Rebecca A. Gowns: This has everything I love in a song -- the plucky piano, the sing-along chorus, lyrics that have a wink in every line -- and yet, it grates. Jukebox the Ghost are trying to be both deep and knowingly "fake deep" here, and the result is muddy; they come across as sneering instead of ironic, and maudlin instead of touching. Hearing it on the radio, it's like a kid in the back of the class interrupting the teacher to deliver a bon mot: it's clever and unexpected, but it still makes me wince. [5]

Ian Mathers: There are few things that make my skin crawl more than bogus profundity (NOT the same as pretension, for what it's worth). This one actually made me go give that dire Foster the People song another point, because I'd forgotten how much worse it could have been. (And by the way, at least half of those songs are because everyone is goddamned terrified, you damp fuck.) [0]

Joshua Copperman: The one part that didn't ring true for me about John Mulaney's Kid Gorgeous special on Netflix was his joke about pop music: "I can't listen to any new songs, 'cause every new song is about how 'tonight is the night' and how 'we only have tonight'; I want to write songs for people in their 30s called, 'Tonight's No Good, How About Wednesday?'" One, there's the National for that, and two, no songs are about how we only have tonight anymore, because no, everything is just SoundCloud rap by horrible people or SoundCloud-inspired mainstream rap that's just as obnoxious. At least Mulaney's out-of-touchness was part of the joke; to hear Jukebox the Ghost epiphanize that songs are happy because "everybody's lonely" bugs me because one of the biggest songs of last year had the chorus "Push me to the edge/all my friends are dead." (Also, since when in the past few years has pop music portrayed drinking too much as a wholly good thing?) Before "XO Tour Llif3," "Closer" was about escapism, not necessarily escapism itself. Even the lightest #1 we've had in a while, "Nice For What," can still be interpreted as oblique reaction to America's ongoing reckoning with its treatment of women. Saying that everybody's lonely and using that as the basis for this song is not a profound insight, even if the verse lyrics a little bit better ("Are we programmed for broken romance" in particular deserves a better song around it). I'd love a song that asks pop music why everybody on the radio is lonely and self-loathing, even though that arguably has the same answer as the one Jukebox the Ghost have for their question. They're an earnest band, and they usually make some pretty great piano pop music. But this song is even more overproduced than the ones they criticize, the piano feeling more like an unnecessary flourish than integral to the sound. I want Metro Boomin to sample this out of spite. [4]

[Read and comment on The Singles Jukebox]

[fromthedeskofelizabeththird]

If You Go Chasing Rabbits

So, a while ago, I decided that the various routes would work well as classic works of literature and because I am a masochist because Mr Darcy Jumin Han and Mr Rochester Jihyun Kim are things I need in my life, I convinced myself to write the opening of a Victorian AU. And here it is.

[PROLOGUE] <You are here

Jumin Route - Bewitched, Body and Soul - Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

IT is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune must be in want of a wife

Old words, and pretty, and decidedly not hers.

Areum had little time for the single men of good fortune who so commonly came to visit, which was fortunate, for they had very little time to spare for her. It was her lot in life to rise with the lark and worry only for the good china and it did not matter that her lips were plump and rosy, nor that she pinned her hair so tightly that it made the fairness of her face only more apparent. She was a maid and nothing more and if a gentleman were to look at her, he paid her no more mind than he would the drapes.

She was one of five maids with a particular focus on the whims of the daughters of her mistress, Lady Finchley, who had taken to spending more and more time in her London apartments than ever before.

In her youth, the lady of the house was a plain sort, who beguiled very few men with her face but became the belle of the ballroom regardless, for she was in possession of a sharp tongue and indelicate humour and remembered the names of everyone’s third cousins. She married a soldier in the end, who was arguably equally ugly, but had the gentlest voice of anyone Areum had ever encountered.

Their resulting daughters were beautiful but inherited none of Lord or Lady Finchley’s personal charms. Catherine, Annette, Margaret and Rebecca spent their childhoods dragging one another by the hair, smashing another’s toys to pieces, sobbing in jealousy over the pretty dress one sister was permitted to wear and they were not, only to plan for it to meet with an accident. Now that they were out of girlhood, they had, for the most part, abandoned their personal differences and sought the attentions of the ballroom, where they teamed up to drag other girls by the hair, smash the possessions of other girls to pieces, sob in jealousy at the fashionable dresses other girls were permitted to wear and, most importantly, to plot for other women to meet with accidents.

On this occasion Annette, who was the oldest and arguably most loathsome of the four, had discovered offense in the blossoming relationship between her childhood friend Effy and the handsome Dr Ingram, who hailed from the Scottish highlands and up until recently had been keeping quarters with Annette’s father, who was not only a highly experienced physician, but a kind soul and more than happy to welcome somebody new into the chaos of London’s elite.

His arrival sparked a myriad of rumours and although it could not be proven, Areum would have been willing to bet that most of them came from Annette. Annette who had laughed and laughed when Effy expressed concern at the strange man from Scotland coming to live with her family, only to fall silent at the revelation that his family had a castle. It was only a matter of time before she decided that she rather liked the idea of a castle of her own-the husband little more than a stepping stone-and at every dance afterwards, she had gone out of her way to be amiable to make a good impression upon Dr Ingram.

A pointless effort, as Effy’s latest letter was to ask advice. Since moving into his new apartments, the doctor and Effy had shared many letters and a great affection had grown between them. Effy was unsure how best to proceed, though unfortunately the same could not be said of Annette.

“Of course we’ll have to get rid of her,” she sniffed, slapping Areum’s hands away the moment the brush tugged. “The question is how.”

The question was almost entirely rhetorical, though she went so far as to pretend to think.

“I’ve got it,” she said, after one whole minute of pretend deliberation. “We shall invite her over for tea tomorrow.”

“And then?” Margaret chirruped.

“And then I shall offer her my warmest wishes, naturally.”

Catherine glanced at Margaret, who turned to Rebecca. Not one of them believed Annette truly wished Effy the best, but they were incapable of piecing together her plan from that single piece of information.

“We shall have Effy script a letter to her good doctor,” said Annette, doubtless feeling smug in being the undivided centre of attention. “A confession that she shall write by hand and send out over the afternoon post. However, before she sends it, we’ll have one of the staff replace the letter in the envelope with one of our own design. That letter shall be filled with all sorts of terrible lies.”

The sisters laughed raucously at this prospect and Areum sighed as she arranged Rebecca’s hair.

“What sort of lies, Netty?”

“Oh, I don’t know…” Annette shrugged. “That she dances naked in Soho or licked an urchin.”

“We should have her say she’s Jack the Ripper!” Catherine squealed.

“Quite,” said Annette, in the sort of tone that made her shudder. “In any case, the good doctor won’t speak to her again and she may even leave London. That fixes my problem most wonderfully, don’t you say?”

And in a way, Areum agreed. Sometimes their logic was such that even she could not find fault in it. It was certainly true that if Effy retired to her family’s estate in Sussex, she would no longer represent a threat. But Areum found herself worrying what such a strategy would mean for the maidservant who switched the notes.

The housekeeper of Lord and Lady Finchley’s London estate was a stout, red faced woman named Mrs Ridgebit, who knew the value of everything, be it a good glass of port, a leg of lamb or a six year old child. The first time they met, Mrs Ridgebit had refused to buy her at full price.

Mrs Ridgebit abided by the old fashioned divisions between serving staff and residing family and more often than not, she had no tolerance for stories about the misbehaviour of Lady Finchley’s daughters. She was not their mother and it was not her place to intervene. At best she tolerated jokes about their misdeeds in the serving quarters. Even so, she hoped that perhaps she would say something or perhaps even devise a counter plan now that there was so much on the line.

Unfortunately, she was possessed of a foul mood when Areum eventually found her in the kitchens. The same thunderous rage that seemed to have become a part of her ever since Lord Finchley’s strange behaviour of late.

In all of the time she had known him, she had never considered him pious or even remotely opinionated and very recently, she had never known him to spend an extended amount of time studying the bare bones of theology either. However, three weeks beforehand, he had called at the home of Major Gregory and returned inspired by the words of a young man he encountered in the smoking room. It seemed there was a precedent, for Major Gregory, it transpired, had also been introduced to the stranger about a week or so earlier at a dance hosted by General Hurst.

Mrs Ridgebit made it quite clear that Areum and the other maids were not to stick their noses in the master’s business, though they did not have to to pick up on the smaller details. An argument between Lord and Lady Finchley about donations to a church building effort outside of the city; an off hand description of the man's strange looks; a pamphlet she spotted while tidying the study that must have been from the group that Lord Finchley spoke of. Areum could not read in the same effortless manner as Annette or Rebecca, but she could tell that it spoke about a world without pain or suffering. She almost wished that she had not seen it, for it was stamped with the symbol of a bright green eye and brought a chill to her spine that never quite left her.

If that was what the master’s friend spoke of, however, and was the reason for him behaving so uncharacteristically of late, then Areum thought she understood. Lord Finchley lost part of his left leg during his military career and the wound had healed incorrectly, leaving him in constant discomfort. Effy’s father had prescribed a seemingly infinite supply of potions and teas in an effort to placate him, but beyond going back to France and retrieving whatever parts of his body and soul he had left behind, it seemed there was to be no miracle cure any time soon.

Very much at the last minute, Lord Finchley had decided to invite the peculiar young man for a dinner party, leaving Mrs Ridgebit the momentous task of reshuffling all prior meal arrangements.

“Unless you’ve a ham hock hidden up your skirt, girl, I’ve nothing for you!” She said, in lieu of a proper greeting. “Grab that basket.”

She had previously been occupied in a squabble with the cook and took the opportunity to point to the basket most often used for groceries. Areum hoisted it into her arms automatically, presuming that one of the kitchen maids meant to take a trip into town. However, neither the cook nor Mrs Ridgebit accepted the basket and instead it was Areum herself who received the slip of paper detailing everything missing from the larder that was required for the night’s proceedings to be a success.

“What was he thinking?” The cook sighed, shaking her head.

“I’d send one of the younger girls,” said Mrs Ridgebit, “but you’re the only one who can read.”

Areum wanted to warn her about the Annette’s plans, but all things considered, she decided it would be far more prudent to wait until after the dinner party instead. Effy was not scheduled to visit until the next day, after all and perhaps in the aftermath of everything that had taken place, everyone would be more willing to listen to her concerns.

“All right,” she said, taking the small bag of coins from Mrs Ridgebit. “I’ll make sure to be back within the hour.”

Despite her title, Mrs Ridgebit was not married and she carried few in the way of trinkets besides the silver pocket watch she wore on a chain, most often used to double check that the serving staff were working to schedule. One of the other girls said it belonged to a lover; a different girl said it was a gift from Lady Finchley upon her residence as housekeeper. Areum had a strong suspicion that the truth was a little of both.

When Mrs Ridgebit unhooked the pocket watch and passed it to Areum, the significance did not escape her and for a moment she was unable to do anything but stare at the scratches in the silver.

“Well?” Snarled Mrs Ridgebit. “Go!!”

In her haste to leave the house, she did not know how it was she remembered to pick up her shawl. Even as she arrived at town, she was in a daze. She ought not have been surprised when she bumped shoulders with a stranger, sending her shopping basket-and the rosy apples within it- tumbling to the floor.

“Oh, oh I’m so sorry!” Areum squeaked, cursing her strange state of mind and falling to her knees to pick them up.

The stranger’s top hat had fallen to the floor during the collision and if the expensive nature of his clothes were anything to go by, then he was almost certainly of quality blood. To avoid offending the man even further, Areum made a point to keep her eyes low. He had other ideas, though, and knelt down beside her to pick up one of the apples.

“I am most offended, Miss,” he said, laughing. “Here, I shall take this as my reward. Of course…”

He slipped two fingers under her chin and she had no choice but to look into his face.

“I would much rather take you to paradise.”

The first thing to grab her attentions were his eyes. They were of the same resplendent green as the stamp on Lord Finchley’s pamphlet and equally as unnerving. She found herself staring into them for far longer than was necessary and almost certainly appropriate. His hair was a bright white and shone in the sunlight, bringing to mind all manner of strange things, though she found herself thinking of the absurdly white rabbits the Finchley girls each insisted upon dressing up in ribbons and chasing around the house.

He noticed her blushing and laughed raucously, climbing to his feet and offering her a hand too. The more she thought about it, the more convinced she became that the man Lord Finchley was so oddly besotted with and had captured his interests so completely with pamphlets about a world without pain was one with white hair and bright green eyes.

And for that reason alone she felt even more self conscious about staring at him.

“Thank you, sir,” she said, lowering herself into a curtsy. “Although, I...I should be going now. I’m going to be-”

At some point, though she could not gather when, he had slipped a piece of paper into her hand. A piece of paper that only confirmed her previous suspicions, for it was the same pamphlet she had discovered in Lord Finchley’s possession, only markedly more recent. Almost immediately, she looked up to ask something of the stranger, only to realise that she had missed her window of opportunity and he had already almost disappeared along the opposite street, with nothing more than the gleam of his bright hair to distinguish him at all.

For the first time, she thought she understood all of those instances that Lord Finchley had been unable to stay quiet about his looks. To say that he was unusual seemed too simple and Areum found herself suddenly curious about him. What was his name and where was he going? Was he married and of a good character? She watched his retreating back for several minutes and it was with a good deal of reluctance that she looked at Mrs Ridgebit’s watch.

As a maid, she was somewhat skilled at being seen only when she desired it. It was not difficult to follow the stranger to a shop of antiquities, her previous errand all but forgotten. She was not sure why she followed him. At first it was out of some strange and largely unwelcome desire to know his name, but later-after checking the pocket watch once and then twice and realising she was going to be late-it was the conviction that perhaps the young man might reveal something about Lord Finchley’s strange behaviour.

The antiques shop was closed for the day, though the stranger opened the front door without any effort at all and Areum lingered on a nearby corner for several minutes to wait and see what happened. Perhaps he meant to open up the store or had been on an errand of some sort, as she had. She stood there for quite some time, though, expecting him to come out with some object or another or to open up the doors to the public. He did not come out at all, though, and she knew from checking the time that five minutes had passed before she thought to check.

Oh, how she wished she had not followed him! She approached the shop and peered through the windows in search of any signs of movement, though found nothing in the end. It was as if the stranger had disappeared.

Areum considered that she still had time to go back to the house and apologise for her lateness. If she left at that very moment, she might even get the chance to think up a particularly good lie. The other girls were always complaining of long lines at the market and she had never once been dishonest. She considered it even as she reached for the door of the antiques shop and stepped inside, examining the curious items that littered every corner of the room: paintings and statues of long forgotten gods and music boxes and more. Areum might have spent hours in that room examining each single oddity were it not for the red velvet curtain that divided up the shop floor from the rest of the building.

She could hear voices behind it. More than one, discussing something in a conversational tone.

Areum pulled back the curtain, wondering if she would see the stranger on the other side…

...and behind her, the front door to the shop slammed shut.

She gasped, peering back to see what lay beyond the curtain, just in time for someone to hold a handkerchief over her face.

When Areum came to, she was sitting on a chair in a draughty room and someone held smelling salts to her nose.

“This isn’t why I became a doctor, you know,” someone said, moving the salts the moment she began to open her eyes. “She’s going to think I’m a common criminal!”

“She is a common criminal,” said someone else. “And you’re not a doctor yet.”

Someone bit into an apple.

“She’s pretty though,” they said with their mouth full.

Areum opened her eyes and took in her surroundings, as well as the people within it; all strangers to her, as it transpired. Immediately to her left, a golden haired gentleman placed the smelling salts back inside of what appeared to be a doctor’s bag, while on the right, an absurdly handsome white haired man in brightly coloured clothes carried on eating one of the apples from her basket. At the back of the room was a darker haired, stern looking man, who she guessed was the one to call her a common criminal.  

“I…” She said. “Who are you people? I have to-”

“Where is Luciel? I would have him take her to the station immediately.”

“Don’t be an ass, Jumin! We don’t know that she’s done anything wrong.”

“I agree with Zen! That seems excessive.”

The one named Zen finished off the apple he had been eating and tossed the core into the fire, before crossing the room to give her a bow, complete with many flourishes of the wrist. He was even more handsome up close and she wished that her head was not nearly so fuzzy so that she could admire him properly.

“My name is Zen,” he said. “Not my real name, mind! Barely anyone knows that!”

At the back of the room, Jumin guffawed. Zen largely ignored him, however.

“The arse over there is Jumin Han. He’s the fifth richest man in the country and owns half of Derbyshire..although I’m not sure which half. I’m sure it’s whichever half think it’s better than the other.”

Mr Han did not respond to that particular insult and Zen pointed to the doctor, who by then had finished packing away his medical supplies.

“Man with the chloroform is Yoosung Kim, which…” He frowned. “Why do you have that, anyway? You aren’t in class today.”

“Luciel said there were muggers on the streets!” Yoosung said, wide-eyed. “The last time I tried to learn self defense, my sister gave me a black eye.”

The prospect of getting mugged seemed to leave him shaken and he went back through his medical bag for the smelling salts.

“Tell me, then,” said Zen, leaning into Areum’s face and leaving her blanched from the sheer impropriety of it all. “What is your name?”

“I…” She said. “I….”

She did not answer, however, for at that moment two others entered the room. The first was a woman with light brown hair, who appeared to be in the process of noting something down in a small leather book. The other was a man with red hair, who pulled a pair of eyeglasses from his pocket the moment he stepped into the room.

“Fascinating,” he said, shoving Zen out of the way to kneel down in front of her. Meanwhile, the woman with the book walked over to show Mr Han whatever it was that she had written down.

“I checked our inventory,” she said. “Nothing is missing.”

“Hmmm,” said Mr Han. “Check it again.”

“All of it, sir?”

“All of it.”

She watched as the other woman left the room, defeated, only to gasp as the redhead kneeling before her took hold of her ankle.

“I-sir!” Areum cried out. “What are you doing?”

“That’s Luciel,” said Zen, almost sounding bored. “He’s a detective with Scotland Yard. They say he’s the best...if a bit odd.”

With a thoughtful expression, he rose to his feet and lifted her hand into his, turning it over and over in his grip. His hands were gentle and his face was familiar, even though she knew they had never met.

“Now, Luciel,” said Mr Han, “I want this woman arrested forthwith.”

“What?!” Areum gasped.

“You are a trespasser in my store,” he said. “I don't know what you intended, but-”

“I did not mean to trespass, sir! The door was open!”

Her comment caught the attentions of everyone in the room.

“Preposterous,” said Mr Han.

“Actually,” said Luciel, letting go of her hand, “I think she's telling the truth. I examined the front door with Miss Kang and we agreed that there was no sign of interference. From the looks of her I would add it's very unlikely she's a thief by profession.”

“I don't know,” said Zen. “She certainly stole my heart.”

Jumin sighed.

“From the look of her dress, she is a maid, but take note of the burns on her hands and the sheen of her shoes,” said the strange Luciel. “She is under the honest employ of a family in this area, I’d say, and most likely gained those injuries by arranging the hair of a lady, not by thievery.”

“Well then,” said Yoosung, as the woman-Miss Kang, presumably- returned. “So it's all a misunderstanding?”

“Not quite,” said Miss Kang. “What brings a lady’s maid here?”

“Oh, that's Miss Kang, Jumin’s valet,” said Zen.

“Valet?!” She said, wondering if it was proper to pass comment on the fact that a valet was almost always a man, and Miss Kang was a woman of apparently the same age as herself.

“She does raise a good point,” said Mr Han, ignoring the question. “We chose this store for the fact that no one came to visit and I doubt a lady would send one of her staff to choose an antique she had never seen.”

“I wasn't sent by anyone,” said Areum. “I was following-”

She stopped, realising that she probably should not admit to following strangers through the streets of London with a detective present. It was too late to retract it, however, so she recounted the strange behaviour of her master and the man she bumped into in the street.

“This man,” said Luciel, “did he have white hair and green eyes?”

“Yes,” said Areum. “Do you know him?”

Her answer sent a ripple throughout the room. Yoosung gasped, Zen and Miss Kang both groaned and Mr Han and Luciel sighed wholeheartedly.

“Perhaps we should explain what we do here,” said Luciel, taking a few steps towards the fireplace and peering around the enormous chair in front of it. “Perhaps you should explain this part, boss!”

Up until that point, she had not realised that, including herself, there was a seventh person in the room. The gentleman that rose out of the chair had previously been sitting so quietly and so still that she had not noticed him at all, which seemed something of an irony now that she looked upon him; he dressed as finely as Mr Han and his hair was a luminous shade, the likes of which she had never seen before.

“I am Jihyun Kim,” he said reaching a hand for her to shake, “and I apologise for this inconvenience.”

“Are you a detective?” Areum breathed, which brought a wide smile to his face.

“I…” He glanced across at Luciel. “Ah. I am not actually Luciel’s boss. I'm a photographer, actually, although slightly more importantly I am the leader of this group! A few years ago, my dearly departed and I gathered our connections to raise funds and better improve the lives of the impoverished and needy of this country.”

“That’s a noble calling,” said Areum.

“Indeed,” said Mr Kim. “We changed the lives of many, but I fear that we were never quite able to fulfill the vision my Rika had when first we started.”

“And now there’s that strange cult,” chipped in Luciel, which seemed bring a bitter taste to his mouth.

“That too.”

“For the past six months, I've been investigating a new religious order that's been gaining a surge in popularity in London’s elite,” said Luciel. “It's called Mint Eye and every story I've heard about it makes me like it even less, though I can't find a single shared detail in any of my open cases, with the exception of that white haired gentleman.”

“If he's snooping on our meetings, that must mean he's got ideas for us,” said Miss Kang.

“What if they're going to come for us next?” Yoosung cried out, burying his face in Miss Kang’s shoulder and earning a swift box to the ears in response.

Luciel sighed and took off his glasses in order to rub the bridge of his nose.

“I'll admit that... is a possibility.”

And in that moment, there was uproar. A hubbub of five different protests to the situation, which only petered down when Areum herself cried out.

“I have to leave! I need to be home for dinner tonight! That man with the white hair is going to meet with my master and the housekeeper is going to be so cross if I-”

“I am afraid that leaving is quite out of the question,” said Mr Han. “You may not have intended to rob me, but that does not mean that you are a person of moral character.”

“I'm sorry, but I'm afraid that he's right,” said Mr Kim. “If you are a spy, we cannot risk that you might pass on vital information about our group.”

She had gone from maid to thief to spy in the space of an hour and her head was still in a spin.

“I...I don't…”

“What do you suggest, Luciel? This is a rather unusual predicament,” said Mr Han.

Luciel considered his words and then nodded.

“I suggest we keep an eye on Miss…”

“Areum”

“…Miss Areum for now. We should not dismiss the facts that she has presented before us, nor that she may in fact be the person most in danger. As such, I suggest that she stays under the care of our group for the time being, with her comings and goings under constant surveillance.”

“But!” She spluttered, though nobody seemed to be listening.

“If it is to be surveillance, she is better off with you, Luciel, surely,” said Miss Kang, to which he shook his head.

“If Miss Areum truly is dishonest, we must give her every opportunity to expose herself,” he said.

“You just want to pull Mint Eye into the open!” Gasped Yoosung.

“That’s very true,” said Luciel. “Now then-”

He turned to Areum, grinning widely.

“Which of us will you be coming with?”