#i hope that amanda herself never sees those edits

[always-andromeda]

Folks who make those sad Amanda Bynes edits comparing how she looked two decades ago vs now…like I understand having sympathy for her but also…that content feels off to me.

[changebydjo]

IMPORTANT - PLEASE READ

 so i’ve put off writing this for a long, long time, and it’ll be painful for me to make this post but at this point i feel like it needs to be done. someone within the liz fandom has been lying, gaslighting and manipulating me as well as many others, both online and offline, and after getting proof on everything (plus their lack of remorse) has prompted me to write this.

this is about gil perez, aka @unrated-g, and one of his irl friends, kim @kimbus-the-whimbus, to a lesser extent, but mostly gil. since 2016 - nearly 5 years now - he’s been lying that he’s best friends with liz gillies. i’m gonna put a read more because it’s a long, insane, and ridiculous thing that happened, but please read all of it and know how serious this is, as well as all the damage this man has done.

​

i met gil through tumblr in 2018 - he had been replying my posts since before that, but early 2018 is when i followed him and started chatting with him casually. over time, i noticed that he would reblog posts about liz and in the tags he would seem to be talking to her or referencing her, but not by her name - instead he would call her “goblin”. he would mention things that “goblin” liked or behind the scenes on dynasty stuff, and after a few weeks of noticing this and chatting with him about dynasty/liz, i ended up asking him if he was friends with liz/knew her personally because of the way he spoke about her. he confirmed to me that he knew her, she was one of his best friends, and he “didn’t expect” anyone to pick up on it. he told me to keep it private and i agreed, obviously, because i had no reason to not trust him, and i know that liz values her privacy.

it’s important to note that liz does NOT follow him or any of his accounts from her verified twitter or instagram accounts - instead, he said she had an “extremely private” encrypted tumblr account that could only be seen by people she follows/white listed. he was one of them. her blog would not show up for anyone else, and they met through tumblr in 2016 (even though he said she followed him back in 2010 and he didn’t realize until 6 years later) through their mutual love for uncharted, and bonded over playing uncharted 4 multiplayer together. it’s also important to note that liz has had 2 tumblr accounts since 2010, both of which she has abandoned, and he said that her private tumblr is separate from those two. she also was friends with him (according to him) through PSN, where they would play ps4 games together, and all of his text convos with her are from that app:

(^ “liz’s” PSN account)

throughout all of 2018, we would text on a regular basis and started becoming good friends. he was extremely kind, always willing to be there for me, and listened to me about not only fandom stuff but also my irl problems. he also became friends with my friend group, who were also in the liz fandom, and it was really nice for a while. in october of 2018, gil said he went to HHN with liz and matt in LA, and for xmas of 2018, he said he spent it with liz - both in LA and in NJ, which is what she typically does to spend her holidays with her family and friends. her pale blue eyes cover was also for him, according to gil, because he asked for her to cover it specifically and she did just for him.

gil would also occasionally stream for friends, and sometimes liz would show up:

beginning of 2019 is when gil and i started getting much closer - we started playing games together (mostly mario kart, at the beginning) and talking through voice chat. he would talk about liz and personal things about her/her life or dynasty, and he always willingly supplied that information himself - i never asked for it, i wasn’t friends with him to get information on liz or have an “in” with her. chatting with him made me feel good and happy and important to him, and i realized i started having feelings for him - which i told him about in april 2019. he said he wasn’t sure exactly how he felt but he thought he might feel the same, the only really complicated part (besides the fact that this was long distance/not irl) was that he also had a really deep crush on liz, someone who was his best friend/ultimate celeb crush. he was really like in love with her, even though he said he tried to suppress it. anyways, after me admitting that to him, our friendship started to develop into something more. we weren’t ever in an official relationship, but things were definitely not strictly platonic with us. we went from chatting once every week or two to almost every single night for 3-6 hours per night for MONTHS. throughout that time, our relationship became sexual, too, and my feelings for him just continued to get deeper and deeper.

this continues throughout the rest of 2019, and then new years 2020, everything just...goes to shit asap. gil got really distant with me with no explanation, i felt like all the affection he was showing me and the kind things he would say to me, as well as our bonding time when we would chat together, was just ripped away unexpectedly. i constantly asked what was wrong and what was happening, and told him how i feel, and i got no real response besides just being tired/non-sociable, etc. (which, for the record, is completely understandable, but it was such a huge 180 in behavior that it worried me and things never went back to normal after that). in addition to that, kim (who was mentioned at the beginning of this post) is one of his best friends irl, as well as his on again/off again ex (according to him). anyways, there were posts that she had made that indicated to them not being exes and instead still together - or at the very least not platonic - which crushed me when i found out, because until that point i had no reason not to trust him. i told him about it though, and how it hurt me because my feelings were so deep for him at that point i felt that i loved him, and he told me they weren’t together. this isn’t really necessary for the liz stuff of this post, but it’s important for context for how hurt and on edge i was already feeling before things got worse.

we would still chat maybe a few times a week, but nothing like it used to be, and i was happy we would even chat at all, even though things felt so weird and different and off, and no matter what i did, i couldn’t fix it. as 2020 started going on, and this continued, his friendship with liz started making me feel extremely uncomfortable. knowing that he had the weird boundaries with his ex, plus whatever was going on with me and him, AND that he was in love with liz?? it was unsettling. i felt like i couldn’t compare, because it’s *liz gillies*, someone i obviously love and idolize and look up to. and she was up on a pedestal for him, even though he said that he never tried to treat liz differently than his other close friends just bc of who she was, but that wasn’t true. anything that she said or did, he agreed with 100%, and would defend it. when he and i would chat, and i would mention something about dynasty that bothered me, he would talk about what liz’s thoughts were on it and how she felt and that she was right to feel that way and it made me feel awful. this happened on multiple occasions throughout various topics, from dynasty to fandom stuff to liz’s friendships/relationships, etc. no matter what, to gil, liz was always right and he always had an explanation for anything that happened. the way he would describe liz and the thing he said about her made me see her in a completely different light - she was not the same liz that she presented herself as, at least in gil’s eyes. 

he would always talk about how amazing liz was to him and how she did so much for him, such as buying him gifts, supporting his art, etc. this was hurtful to hear because i was doing the exact same things for him, as well as our group of friends: we had been buying his art (not only the art prints but the ACTUAL original copies), sending him gifts or money for gifts, supporting him and his art on social media, as well as just being a genuine friend to him. he never appreciated or thanked us the way that he thanked liz; none of us ever compared to her, even though we were doing the exact same thing for him that he said liz was doing, as well. it made me feel like no matter what i did, or how supportive i was, i was never enough.

we also had a discord with gil, that involved him, me, and my friends sarah, hope, amanda, and dom. within this discord, it’s worth noting that gil was the only man there, and would talk about liz and his friendship with her there, unprompted. we never asked for info, he volunteered everything willingly, and we all kind of glossed over it at the time because we weren’t friends with him for liz or any of that.

(the screenshot gil linked in the gc is what “liz’s” private encrypted blog looks like on his dash. please note the edit post button in the bottom right of the screenshot.)

another important thing about his friendship with liz/being in love with her: he has this specific kink (which i don’t want to say what it is for privacy reasons) and he said that liz was engaging in this kink herself, and that he was jealous of liz’s bf/wishes he could engage in it with liz, etc. i wasn’t into this kink before talking to him but because i had liked him so much at the time, and i was slightly jealous that he wanted it with liz, i thought that i could indulge in it for him. it was something that i was not physically or mentally prepared for/able to make happen, and it really caused an impact on me, and he just...didn’t care. at all.

anyways: this stuff continues, then around summer 2020, my friend sarah reached out to him. she (and my friends, along with me) were starting to distrust the things gil was saying about liz, since it went completely against what liz would say herself. she would say she only plays the sims 3 on her computer - he would say she was a huge gamer and played the sims 4 on ps4, along with minecraft, uncharted, the last of us, horizon zero dawn, etc. he would say that liz and maddison brown (her dynasty co-star) played ACNH with him and quickly got to 5 stars - liz said in a zach sang interview that she didn’t play animal crossing. every time something didn’t add up, his excuse was that liz was lying for her privacy. she didn’t follow gil on any verified social media accounts in case “people harassed him” over being friends with her. so sarah texted him that she needed to talk to him about the liz stuff, because there was evidence it wasn’t true, and he denied all of it. he firmly stuck to his story, and sarah gave him multiple chances over several days to come clean and he wouldn’t. she asked for simple pieces of proof that he could give her, and he wouldn’t besides fake screenshots of her “private blog”:

 he told me afterwards that if it comes between his friendship with liz or sarah’s, he’s picking liz - end of story. his and sarah’s friendship was done after that because of his decision. he blamed sarah for “ruining” liz and maddison’s friendship because of her asking for proof, and made her out to be the bad one in that situation. he ended up deleting the discord gc after this happened, with all of his screenshots/”info” as liz as well (we got screenshots of things before he deleted it though, much more that’s shown in this post).

about a month later, my friend léa also confronted him about it. gil had told her some things about liz’s “reaction” to meeting léa in paris, and at the time, it had made the experience more special for her. once she realized it was all lies, though, it really hurt her - he altered that special experience for her and twisted it into something that wasn’t real. he had the same reaction to léa’s conversation as he did to sarah’s, and he refused to tell the truth. their friendship was done with after, as well, along with a few other people from the liz fandom. i was the only one who stayed friends with him after that, and that was because i was closest with him and still trying to see if i could fix things with him. i was still naively believing that he would treat me okay again, he would make me feel important instead of always a backup option, that he wanted me again. 

but of course that never happened. he continued to ignore me, talk to me less and less, and would subtweet me on his private account. after he stopped being friends with sarah and léa and everyone blocked him except for me, i was the only follower on his private account, as well as being the only person he followed there. gil, though, kept saying that liz had a “private twitter” where she would talk to him on his private account. he also said that he had “merged twitter accounts” into one, which was his private, which messed up his account and wouldn’t show who he was replying to, quote rts, or that he was following them, which - if you have a twitter, you KNOW none of that can actually happen. but it was his excuse to constantly subtweet me and my friends for not believing him, to maintain his story, AND to have convos with “liz” on there that only i could see, where he made it sound like he was talking shit about me to her. it was extremely manipulative and served no purpose except to fuck with me, because he knew that i was the only one seeing those tweets and knew i was already struggling with not knowing what to believe. here’s some of them:

(you can very clearly see that i’m the only follower/following on that account, the number is at literally 1, and he STILL was acting like he was talking to someone else and that other people were following him.)

now comes jan. 2021!! WE GOT DEFINITE PROOF THAT IT WAS ALL LIES. from multiple people. one of liz’s close best friends (that gil included in his stories about her, saying that he met them) said that they don’t know who gil is, have never met him, and it’s best for us all to block him for our own safety. a co-worker of liz’s (who was, again, included in gil’s lies, that he hung out with them multiple times, played games with them online, and bought him gifts) said that not only had they never met gil, but EVERYTHING he said about them was untrue. they even listed the inaccuracies he would say about them, such as gil taking photos of them at things like the SWT, and they confirmed who actually took the photo. they said that “none of it is fucking true” and that gil is a narcissistic liar, and also encouraged us to block him for our own safety. 

i confronted gil myself about this a few weeks ago, and he continued to maintain his story that everyone’s lying to protect his privacy - even though we know for sure that wasn’t the case. he FINALLY owned up to it to me only once he saw i had proof and he was caught, and his reason for doing it was “he was bored”. he said he was sorry but he wasn’t truly apologetic - he either didn’t fully realize the scope of how hurtful his lies and manipulations were, or he just didn’t care, but the bottom line is that he always chose his fantasy of liz over his actual friends. around this time, once he knew he was caught, he also deactivated his private account, but brought it back a week or so later, with all of the subtweets and tweets about liz being deleted. all of the unverified accounts that were supposed to be liz - the tumblr account, psn, twitch, etc. - were all fake and made by him, so he could make it seem more real.

even if he WAS telling the truth about being friends with liz, he still would have completely violated her privacy by the amount of “secret” things he told all of us - from her kinks/sex life, to work life, to very personal things that he claims happened to her. knowing it’s all fake though, and he made up an entire personality and life for liz that doesn’t exist??? it’s insane.

now the part with kim - she’s known gil irl for over 10 years, and has tweeted about liz all the time, about how “good” liz is to her because of gil, and that she’s the one who encouraged him to talk to her. she brags about it constantly, even though none of it is real. she also tweeted multiple times throughout 2018-2019 about how gil “finally deserves to meet liz in person”, even though gil said he met liz irl back in 2017 or so - AND that she came to texas, where he lives, to meet him and his friends. when asked about her tweets, he said that kim’s account was “messed up” and her tweets weren’t “tweeted at the right time”. one of my friends reached out to tell her and show her the proof of gil lying, because gil has been lying to her and other people irl too, and instead she mocked us, belittled us, and chose not to believe a group of women coming to her about a 30 year old (!!) man manipulating us. gil said that kim was “aware of it all being a lie for years now” to me, but i think that was another lie, that he’s STILL lying to her about it. if not, then that means that kim was also lying for many years about knowing liz too, and used it to make us all the butt of her joke, so. so much for her being an “empath” and wanting to help people but anyways!!

the last screenshot is of her subtweeting us and implying that everyone involved with liz is lying for her and gil’s privacy, even though we have proof that that simply isn’t true.

i’m sorry for how long this is, but i need people to understand how serious this is. he’s been lying for 5 YEARS now about knowing liz - about her “accidentally sending nudes” to him, that gil is one of her best friends and he would’ve been at her wedding, that she’s a huge gamer who plays with him - all of it. it’s all lies. he created a fantasy version of liz that doesn’t exist, and incorporated into his real life, his friendships both online and off, and made it his entire personality. he’s not sorry about what he’s done - as i’m writing this, he’s still on tumblr, talking in the tags to “liz” again, because he’d rather uphold his fantasy life where he’s best friends with liz when in reality, she has no idea he even exists. and if she did, i’m certain that she would be disgusted with what he’s done. he lied about her, oversexualized her, used his kinks on her which was brought onto me - someone he knew that was vulnerable and had feelings for him, manipulated people into trying to believe his lies, gaslit people to make them unable to tell what was true and what was fake, and had absolutely zero respect for any of us. he even listened to me cry to him on the phone MULTIPLE times about how insecure and worthless i felt to him compared to liz, and he didn’t do ANYTHING about it. he sat there and listened to me cry, knowing he could own up to his lie, and he chose not to. he’s not sorry about what he’s done, and he’s going to continue to spread his lies. please block him. i can’t express how much he’s hurt me, the therapy that i need to have because of him, how much he’s hurt my friends and how little he respects women in general tbh. he always tried to come off as “one of the good guys” but now i know he’s harmful and not to be trusted. he even tried to separate me from my friends, and make it seem like they’re the ones making this situation even harder for him. i’ve tried so, so many times to get through to him, waiting to see if he’d change or show some remorse or anything, but after over a year of this i don’t think he will, and it genuinely hurts me to know that. BLOCK HIM.

[dwellordream]

“Contemporary readers might find themselves almost suspicious of how little there is in Victorian lifewriting to shock or surprise; can their lives really have been this dull? Deficient in arresting details and blandly uniform, Victorian lifewriting does not foster any illusions that it accurately records the historical past. But lifewriting was not pure fiction, and its very adherence to rules and commitment to typical daily life makes it a far more valuable source than conduct literature, medical writings, or police records for understanding how conventions shaped lived behavior. Consider the example of transvestism. Cross-dressing could lead to scandal and arrests, but lifewriting attests that many youths who adopted the clothes of the other sex were treated as amusing pranksters. 

In her 1857 autobiography Elizabeth Davis recalled “enjoying” herself “extremely” when she dressed as a man to accompany a fellow housemaid to a party and noted that her employers simply “laughed” when they caught her. In the 1840s a young woman living in London wrote to a cousin in the country about putting on a play with other girls for their fathers and mothers: “I have two parts, the good Fairy and the Lord Chamberlain because he sings a song, and he wears a turban and baggy trousers and I wear a beard and moustache.” Other accounts described boys dressing as girls and sallying forth in public to the amusement of all in the know. 

Victorian lifewriting exposes other gaps between myth and reality. Conduct books confined women to the private sphere, but in fact, many informally participated in politics. Amanda Vickery has pointed out the dearth of research on women’s consumption of newspapers, an increasingly political medium after 1750; lifewriting shows that many ordinary middle-class women who complied with gender norms actively read newspapers and discussed political events with their fathers and husbands. Katharine Harris’s journal documents how a middle-class teenage girl tracked the revolutions and cholera epidemics of 1848 as carefully as she followed changes in fashion and the dramas of her social circle.

Women’s diaries and correspondence also modify our image of Victorian feminism as a powerful but marginal movement; though suffrage was a divisive issue, an otherwise silent majority supported female higher education, with many writers asserting that “women have brains, and given equal opportunities, can do as good work as men.” Mary, Lady Monkswell (1849–1930) never formally participated in politics except as the wife of a man who held several government positions, but in 1890 she recorded her pride that a woman had attained the highest score on the Cambridge Mathematical Tripos: “Every woman feels 2 inches taller for this success of Miss Fawcett.”

Female friendship emerges in Victorian lifewriting as a fundamental component of middle-class femininity and women’s life stories. Because the letters women exchanged with male suitors were often deemed too private or compromising for publication, and because wives had few occasions to write to husbands whom they lived with, letters between female friends and kin were the most common and copious source for documenting women’s lives. Anna Bower’s correspondence with three women who had been her friends since school days made up the bulk of a 1903 edition of her diaries and letters.

The Memoir of Mrs. Mary Lundie Duncan (1842) drew heavily on the communication between Mary Duncan and a lifelong friend. The many letters included in the published version of Mary Gladstone Drew’s diaries and correspondence were addressed to her cousin and friend Lavinia. The editor of Lady Louise Knightley’s journals identified the central figure of the early volumes as Louise’s cousin and “inseparable companion” Edith, with whom Louise exchanged daily letters when they were separated between 1856 and 1864 (12). The emphasis on female friendship in Victorian women’s lifewriting mirrored the ways in which didactic literature defined it as an expression of women’s essential femininity. 

In The Women of England and The Daughters of England, Sarah Ellis articulated the tenets of a domestic ideology based on strict divisions between men and women. She counseled women to accept their inferiority to men and to cultivate moral virtues such as selflessness and empathy as counterweights to the male virtues of competitiveness and self-determination. Ellis praised female friendship for several reasons. It trained women not to compete with men by requiring them not to compete with one another; it fostered feminine vulnerability by developing bonds based on a shared “capability of receiving pain”; and it reinforced married love by cultivating the sexual differences that fostered men’s desire for women (Women, 75, 224). 

In The Daughters of England, Ellis explicitly argued that friendship trained women to be good wives by teaching them particularly feminine ways of loving: “In the circle of her private friends . . . [woman] learns to comprehend the deep mystery of that electric chain of feeling which ever vibrates through the heart of woman, and which man, with all his philosophy, can never understand” (337). Ellis argued that female friendship produced marriageable women by intensifying the opposition between the sexes, but she then undid gender differences by positing similarities between friendship and marriage. The emotions fostered by friendship were also those required for marriage, leading Ellis to call marriage a species of friendship, and friendship “the basis of all true love” (Daughters, 388). 

Far from compromising friendship, family and marriage provided models for sustaining it; female friends exchanged the same tokens as spouses and emulated female elders who also prized their friendships with women. Marriage rarely ended friendships and many women organized part of their lives around their friends. Louise Creighton (1850–1936), married to an Anglican vicar and eventually the mother of six children, wrote letters to her mother in the 1870s that often mentioned extended visits from her childhood friend Bunnie and other married and unmarried female friends. 

Just before she acceded to the throne, Princess Victoria wrote of her governess Lehzen as “my ‘best and truest friend’ I have had for nearly 17 years and I trust I shall have for 30 or 40 and many more.” On the day Victoria married Albert, Lehzen gave the queen a ring, and their pledges of an enduring bond held true, with Lehzen ensconced at court long after the queen’s wedding. Like any monarch, Queen Victoria practiced a politics of display, but what she performed most vigorously was her adherence to domestic middle-class ideals.

It is therefore not surprising to find her commitment to lifelong friendship echoed in the aspirations of Annie Hill, a middle-class girl who in 1877 wrote to her friend Anna Richmond, “I do not see why we should not keep up writing to one another all our lives like Aunt Maria and her great friend have done.” The friendships that created bonds between individual women also forged a sense of connection between generations. Friendship and marriage could be overlapping and mutually reinforcing. While engaged to her husband-to-be, Mary Duncan sent him poems and the gift of a hair brooch, and at the same time wrote a poem for her best friend, whom she addressed as “loved one” and “dear one” (163, 179–80, 147). 

Just as Duncan experienced no conflict in loving her fiancé and her friend, other women expressed affection for friends by hoping they would happily marry. Writing in 1865 of the friend who came “to bless my life,” twenty-three-year-old Louisa Knightley fantasized about her eventual wedding with a sense of pleasure rather than incipient loss: “I have grown to love Edie very dearly—the Sleeping Beauty, whom life and the world are slowly awakening. May the enchanted Prince soon come and touch the chord that will rouse her from the dreams of childhood and make of her the perfect woman!” (105–6). 

….Lifewriting confirms the links conduct literature made between female friendship and conventional femininity, for only women invested in portraying themselves as atypical failed to write of their friendships. Women who succeeded in masculine arenas and advertised their exceptional achievements in published autobiographies often accentuated their distance from standard femininity by downplaying the role that female friends played in their lives. Battle painter Elizabeth Butler (1846–1933), pedagogue and professional author Elizabeth Sewell (1815–1906), and radical activist Annie Besant (1847–1933) all omitted the rhapsodic descriptions of friendship that characterized lifewriting by women eager to demonstrate how well they had fulfilled the dictates of their gender.

Outright disdain for female friendship was rare. One of the few extant examples of a woman mocking female friendship is an exception that proves the rule. A sophisticated transplant raised in Paris by parents from the Anglo-Irish gentry who returned to England in 1868, Alice Miles was eager to distinguish herself from her earnest English relatives. In a diary that remained unpublished until the late twentieth century, she wrote that women were obligated to marry for money, not love. Her contempt for British domestic sentiment led her to dismiss the earnest devotion between female friends she encountered in England as hypocrisy or stupidity. She believed instead in “the natural aversion women always seem to entertain towards each other and the still more decided preference they habitually evince towards mankind!”

 Nevertheless, Miles enjoyed forming a friendships with a young woman “perfectly acquainted” with every “naughty story . . . making the tour of London,” whom she praised as “a regular little rose bud . . . looking perfectly bewitching.” Even the cynical Miles, who believed that affection between woman was merely a “sign . . . that a man is at the bottom of the emotion,” could not resist the pleasure she took in a woman pretty and wicked enough to be a potential rival. Successful women who represented themselves as proper ladies defined their lives in terms of their friendships with women as well as their devotion to family and church.”

- Sharon Marcus, “Friendship and Play of the System.” in Between Women:  Friendship, Desire, and Marriage in Victorian England

[theheavenlymoon]

I totally did this out of order, so let’s try this again!

I would like you to meet Uzuki Hanako! (うづき- Uzuki はなこ- Hanako)

(My first introduction was a hot mess, so I wanted re edit that one and put up this one instead!)

(I can’t draw for crap so I’m using picrew.)

This will basically be me talking about her rather than all the fandoms she’s in. I’m gonna be making post about her and the fandoms later, but for now it’s all about her!

First Name: Hanako

Last Name: Uzuki

Gender: Female

Race: Demigod

Age: ??? (Depending on the fandom, her age changes)

Birthday: December 27

Zodiac: Capricorn

Height: 6’3.3

Sexuality: Bisexual

JP CV: Ami Koshimizu

ENG CV: Amanda Céline Miller

FRENCH CV: Indila

(Couldn’t find a Greek CV 😔)

Nicknames: Shachi-chan (Floyd), Child of Hearth (Malleus), Ms.Herbivore (Leona), Princess, Wifey (Gojo)

Favorite food: Cheesecake, literally anything sweet

Least favorite food: Hummus, mushrooms, candy, and beans

Likes: family/friends, cooking, singing really loud to her music, working out, making clothes, nail polish, memes/vines, rain/cloudy weather, animals, purple, doing anything around the house, video games, anime, fictional books, roughhousing, and day dreaming about her crush/significant other

Dislikes: Fights between friends and family, Candy, crying in front of people, and bookshelves

Since I can’t draw I have to use picrew, but sadly some of the makers that I find have limited options so allow me to go into detail about her looks. (I’ll probably make another post about her abilities later)

Hanako has bright gold eyes and long lavender hair that goes all the way down to her mid thigh. She has two beauty marks, one under her right eye and one on the left side of her lip. Her signature hair style is space buns with the rest of her hair down in the back. Like I’ve said before, I can’t draw so I’m using characters I know as reference! This is what her body looks like.

(^ This is Flare, a character from fairy tail! I recommend watching it if you have time. Fairy tail is a very long series, but it’s really good!)

(I’m pretty sure you can look at almost all the women in Fairy tail and get the idea.)

Obviously I know that Hestia doesn’t have any demigod kids but demigods don’t have to be born the normal way. Hanako was born from fire and was given to her father. With that being said, when Hana was first claimed she was given a fire place poker but traded it in for a sword so she it could help control her pyrokinesis. (Her sword is disguised as a charm bracelet!)

As for her sword...

Hana’s sword helps her control her pyrokinesis a little better and it’s fun to try and see who can pick it up. Her sword can reach up to about 2000°F (1093°C). She has a few special moves but those are for another time.

Although Hana acts like her mom in some moments, she met Apollo and Hermes when she was quite young and those two have had a big impression on her personality. One moment she giving motherly advice, and the next moment she screaming vines across the room.

Random facts about Hanako 🌸✨

Since Hana means flower I use cherry blossoms and lavender to represent her.

Has a huge soft spot for children!

Hanako is super understanding and open. Wanna try something new? She’ll come with you, so you aren’t lonely and scared. Skydiving? What time are we leaving? Want to be left alone? Call her if you need something! Wanna try working out? She’ll be your personal trainer! Feeling down? She’s coming over with movies and snacks! Can’t make it to game night? It’s alright just be safe with whatever your doing!

Once Hanako falls, she falls hard.(Romantically speaking) She is a SIMP. She’ll wear the most giddiest smile after talking with them. Probably screamed in her pillows at least a few times. “They make my heart beat so fast, and they make me feel like the happiest girl in the world!!” - Hanako.

Attempts her best not to be obvious about her crush, and for the most part it works. Until anything other than platonic stuff comes up. Her face is gonna turn crimson if ANYONE mentions her crush in not so platonic ways, gods forbid anything even more intimate. Children of Hestia are so shy when the idea of sexual things is even bought up that they blush deeply and cannot articulate any coherent words, and any fire nearby also turns crimson as if it were blushing like the child of Hestia. This shyness is amplified if they are around their crush.

Gets kind of anxious when she’s beside a bookshelf.

She’s a smart ass. It’s gotten to the point where she does it automatically. It doesn’t even have time to process, it just comes out.

Hana is actually really good at acting and singing. She was in a few commercials and videos when she was younger but only as background characters.

Hana is amazing with kids. She grew up with 3 little brothers before she was moved into the orphanage, which meant even more kids to watch over. (she takes her big sister role very seriously)

Since she was born from fire, she can raise her body temperature up if she wanted too, and she rarely gets hot or cold. Heat based attack have no effect on her. Hana’s hugs feel like a warm blanket wrapped around you while sitting next to a fireplace, all in all just really comforting

Hana grew up around a lot of guys and so she calls everyone ‘bro’ and ‘dude’ a lot. She has a few friends who are girls but most of them are guys. That being said, she grew up rough housing and yelling.

Hana also comes from a very affectionate family. (Hugs, kisses, feeding food to each other, smashing food into someone’s face, etc.) So it’s not uncommon to see Hana tackle all of her friends into hugs and kisses.(platonically)

Hana also likes to tease a lot (curtsy of Hermes) so don’t be surprised when she tease about you burning food.

Is super flexible. I’m talking like, Mitsuri flexible. Her friends have at least saw her in the scorpion pose a few times. The more flexible she is, the easier it is to move in battle.

The woman is a tree. I’m pretty sure all of her lovers (with the exception of Gojo) are shorter than her.

She can not, for the life of her, wear heels. Anything above a 3 inch that isn’t thick, would make her snap an ankle. Besides she’s already tall enough

In terms of anger, Hana has the patience of a saint. She still gets annoyed here and there, but very rarely does she get genuinely angry. On the rare occasion that she is angry, she gets pretty violent. Veins showing from her forehead, her body temperature spikes, and she wears one of the most nastiest glare ever. (from what she’s been told) Only a select few have seen her mad.

When thrown into a new situation (or a new world-) that isn’t familiar, Hana will come off a bit sarcastic (more than usual) and aloof. She wants to get a feel for her surroundings before she can actually be herself. Give her some time to come around and she’ll be back to hyper and happy.

Hana has a bunch of hobbies. She plays volleyball and is known as the queen of the court. She loves to paint her fingernails and her toes as well. Her cooking is top tier! As a Hestia child obviously she would excel at anything that has to do with domestic and home type things.

She 100% would/will make her own dress. Once made a huge ball gown dress because none of the place had what she was looking for.

When she isn’t doing any of her hobbies she’s working out and practicing her pyrokinesis. Hana trained a lot back where she was from, so she could master her pyrokinesis and her sword. She’s gotten to the point where she can lift a car. Just because she’s in a different place doesn’t give her the excuse to slack off!!

Ironically her mother is a virginal goddess and isn’t married to anyone. Hana on the other hand, wants to get married and have kids. She shooting for 4 but it all depends on what her partner wants. (2,6,8 it just depends)

Hestia children can induce serenity and make tense situations a lot more calmer. Hanako has defeated a lot of enemies and monsters this way.

Hanako knows 4 different languages. English, Japanese, Greek, and French. She was taught Japanese by her father and Greek by her mother. She learned French and English herself

Even though Hana loves to do girly things, makeup is not one of them. She always thought it was pretty cool but she never had the time to sit down and practice it.

Thank you for reading✨ I had a lot of fun making this and I can’t wait to write more stuff about her! I’ll probably have to learn how to make a master post so her stuff is easier to access. If you have any questions about Hana my inbox is open, or you can message me in private, either way works!

I hope you stick around for more content with Hanako! 🌸🔥✨

[rolivia2709]

Meeting Mama

Rolivia

Domestic fluff & little angst

A special thank you to alexlovesolivia for the edit!

Olivia and Amanda had been dating for a little over eight months, when Amanda felt it was time to take Olivia home.

“I've met your family,” Olivia reminds her, feeling uncertain as to why her girlfriend felt the need to introduce her.

“But that was under different circumstances－bad circumstances. Mama was mad at you for arresting Kim, Kim was on drugs and running from us, then in jail, and Daddy, he was－well, daddy,” Amanda tells her. “Mama says they’re all doing better than ever” 

They look skeptically at each other, although they both wish there was even the slightest possibility that it could be true.

“Besides, I want to show you off.... I mean around,” she says slyly.

Olivia smirks at Amanda and reluctantly agrees.

Amanda suggests to a hesitant Olivia that they should drive there. “What a better way to see all the gorgeous scenery”, she tells Olivia. “Besides, then we will have a car to get around and not have to bother renting one, or borrowing one”

After she had made arrangements for Lucy and Sienna to take care of the three kids for the next several days, they hit the road in Olivia's car because it was easier to fit all the luggage in without having to take out their children's car seats from the back.  She wants their kids to get to know her family better but thinks it best to keep them from any of the drama that may come out of this weekend because Amanda has yet to mention to Olivia that her family has been kept in the dark about their relationship.  

When they're just outside of Loganville, Amanda blurts out, “I have to tell you something, love.”  She glances at her now nervous girlfriend. “I haven’t told my family about us,” she admits. 

“Amanda Jo Rollins! How could you not tell them? Why did you wait until we were almost there to tell me?” Olivia asks a little more harshly than she meant to. 

A few minutes later they arrive at the Rollins home. It’s not a small home, but not large by any means.  It was painted white with a green front door and flower bushes on either side of the stairs leading to the small front porch. It was picturesque to Olivia and imagines her girlfriend as a child playing in the front yard and their own children playing there the next time they visit.

They walk in the door and there’s hugs and kisses between the Rollins women.  “Well, hello, Ms. Benson,” announces mama Rollins in an annoyed tone. She hasn’t cared too much for the Captain and wasn’t afraid of making that known. “We didn’t know you would be here, too. Now where are my beautiful granddaughters?”

“So what is this big announcement you have to make?” Kim asks like a little girl expecting a present.

“Mama, I thought it best not to bring them on such a long car ride, I promise we will all fly down and see you soon.” If you can make it through this without ruining everything, Amanda thinks.

They go into the living room to sit down and get comfortable. Amanda & Olivia sit so close together on the couch, their hands in between them so they can hold hands to support each other before they tell Amanda’s family their news.  Mama eyes them suspiciously before she turns and sits in a chair next to Kim across the room.

Daddy of course was nowhere to be found. “Where’s Daddy?” she asks.

“Last I heard he was running around on his new wife to be,” snickers Mama Rollins.

Amanda rolls her eyes. “I was hoping to have you all together to tell you this. I am in love with Olivia. We have been together for eight months, and have moved in together and are raising our children together.”

“How dare you expose my granddaughters to that filth!” Mama Rollins declares in an angry huff. “Why can’t you be with one of those male detectives you work with, like that Carisi fella you work with? Isn’t he a lawyer now? He could really take care of you.”

Between her belief that her daughters should be with a big strong man who can take care of them and the grudge against Olivia for arresting Kim, Mama Rollins was far from accepting of her daughter’s new relationship. She hadn’t seen the arrest as necessary and she saw no problem with her daughter hooking, drugging someone, stealing, or on drugs herself, and could not face it that she was Bipolar.  She even convinced her youngest daughter to stop taking her medication.  “Baby you don’t need it, who knows you better than your mama?” she had told her daughter.

Kim was thrilled with her sister’s revelation and their mom’s reaction! Amanda finally messed up and it was an end to her being the good daughter.

Mama Rollins keeps yelling, “You can’t be with her! It's sick and wrong.  You need a man to take care of you.”

Olivia is furious but she refuses to stoop down to her level and yell. “Listen, I love your daughter. We are together and she doesn’t need anyone to take care of her, especially a man!”

Mama's face gets red and Amanda’s never seen her this angry before. Amanda grabs Olivia by the hand and leads her out of the house so they could go for a drive.  

“Amanda, face it, your family is never going to like me,” Olivia says with tears in her eyes. 

“That's okay. They don’t have to. I love you! But you did get one thing wrong in there.” Olivia looks confused. “I need you to take care of me,” Amanda says as she pushes her lips to Olivia’s for a kiss. 

[nelllraiser]

the kids are alright | adam, ariana, athena, blanche, connor, nell, orion, & winston

TIMING: a few days before the full moon. LOCATION: connor’s beach house. PARTIES: @walker-journal, @letsbenditlikebennett, @athenaquinn, @harlowhaunted, @connorspiracy, @nelllraiser, @3starsquinn, @danetobelieve SUMMARY: just a truly wholesome and youthful time.

Connor didn’t know what everyone liked, so he tried to get a little of everything; chips, dip, beers, spirits (no pun intended), and a few takeout menus scattered around in case they wanted to order. The house wasn’t huge by any means, but one thing he prided himself on was having a bloody good entertainment system, complete with several consoles and a massive telly. They’d have some fun. Watch some shit movies, play some Mario Party, forget that the world outside was shit, at least for a few hours. As the first knock at the door came, he headed over to answer it. “Hey, welcome. Come on in. Make yourself at home. Telly and consoles are obviously in here, but we have this bit of beach as well if we decide we want to take it outside.”

While Ariana wasn’t sure of who all would be in attendance tonight, she knew she hadn’t wanted to leave Athena back at the apartment. Especially with everything that had happened recently, she knew they could both use a fun evening. When she knocked on the door, she smiled brightly as Connor greeted them and introduced him to Athena. “I think I’ll skip testing my luck with the beach, I’m more interested in seeing how I can build a new entertainment system for ya anyway,” she turned to Athena and said, “This is my friend Athena. Athena, this is Connor. You may have seen some of his YouTube videos.” She held up a bag and added, “We brought some extra snacks, too.” 

She wasn’t entirely sure that she was up for a party, but she also knew that she didn’t want to be all by herself with her thoughts. So when Ariana had offered to bring her along to the party, Athena had quickly agreed. “Hi.” She waved to Connor from where she was standing behind Ariana. “I don’t watch a lot of YouTube outside of some videos about baking, or science, or one of my sorority sisters has a vlog channel, so I’m subscribed to that… but still! Nice to meet you.” She grinned, and it still didn’t feel entirely comfortable, but she knew that she had to get back to the usual routine to some degree sooner or later. She nodded over at the bag Ariana was holding up, using that time to look around the house. Her fingers, bare except for one with a golden ring that Amanda had gotten her for her birthday, found her cross necklace and she twisted it around, a bit out of a nervous habit. “Thanks for letting me come, it looks like you have a really nice place.”

“Always love a good snack,” Connor teased. “That’s why Adam’s coming.” Pity that boy was so painfully heterosexual. “Hi, love,” he greeted as Ariana introduced Athena. “Nice to meet you. Nobody else is here yet, but come on in, have a drink, let Ariana check out my furniture…” He gave a little chuckle, helping himself to a beer. 

Nell and Blanche had arrived in tandem, sporting their matching ‘burn your bra’ crop tops in a yin and yang color scheme with Nell in black, and one of her best friends in white. As she walked through the open front door, an amused grin cracked her lips as she saw Blanche and her hadn’t been the only ones to have a similar idea. “Well I’m glad we all got the memo,” she said with a nod towards Athena and Ariana’s complimentary jerseys, knowing full well there had been no such thing. Then she was raising a hand to wave a group greeting towards everyone, and presenting the plate she’d brought. “I brought these- they’re brownies obviously, but the kind that might make you astral project a couple planes over.” Probably stuffed with enough homegrown pot to get an elephant high, they were a staple when it came to party favors.

Orion had been to Connor’s on quite a few occasions now. Since the two had first met up at the old haunted house that Rio had grown up learning about, the two had hung fairly often while Rio helped film and edit videos every now and again. He was still clearly a beginner, but either Connor was desperate for the help or just enjoyed Rio’s company. He came hand in hand with Winston, overly excited for the night. Ever since his birthday, people seemed to walk on pins and needles around him and he didn’t know how to convince him that he was completely fine without potentially coming across as a sociopath. “Connor’s place is nice! He has a really cool set up for editing videos. Maybe you two can geek out about computer stuff together?” Rio grinned as the two made towards the front door.

Connor took a look at everyone’s outfits. “Well, if you brought bras to burn, I already mentioned we’ve got the beach for a little campfire,” he teased. “And Nell, maybe we let people settle in for a bit before getting high on brownies, yeah?” He gave her a playful grin. “But I like the way you think.” There was another ring from the doorbell, and he momentarily excused himself to go answer. It was Rio and his roommate. Holding hands. Cool. “Hey, you made it,” he greeted, smiling over at Rio. “Did you know we were supposed to coordinate? Everyone else has come dressed in pairs,” he teased, then looked to Winston. “Hi. Nice to meet ya. I’m Connor. Come on in.” He led them inside to the rest of the group. Now that almost everyone had arrived, he made sure everyone had a drink and knew where the snacks were, and where the bathroom was. “Just waiting for Adam then. For movies we’ve got pretty much anything that’s on Netflix, Prime, Hulu, or anything I can illegally download.” 

Glancing around the room, Winston shot Nell and Blanche a knowing smile before keeping their hands tightly interlaced with Orion’s. Things seemed to have relatively blown over with Athena, the fact that she was here with Ariana was a separate matter. “Thanks for the invite, if I’d known we were supposed to coordinate I’d have joined in but I guess we’re always the last to hear about these fun facts…” Winston gave a gentle smile before continuing into the house. They were about to mention that they were pretty sure they could connect Connor’s place up to the database in their home, but they weren’t sure that they wanted to potentially share any info that was not entirely secure. “Adam’s coming too? This really is going to be a party.” Winston just hoped he wasn’t armed with assault rifles and grenades this time.

 “Hey guys,” Blanche gave a wave. She hadn't expected Athena to be here, but then again, she also hadn't expected Rio either, especially after… everything. But she wasn't one to judge when people needed to blow off steam. “I would highly recommend the brownies. Once, you know, we’ve all settled in.” She nudged Nell playfully. “I have a 12 pack of beer too if anyone wants a drink.” She set it down on an end table, before curiously eyeing the TV. “Alright then, why don't we focus on picking a movie while we wait for Adam -” would he roll in with kegs like he did at Nic’s party? She fought back a snide internal comment, reminding herself that she promised to rewind for the evening, and honestly… she was so tired of being angry. Not just at Adam, but with everyone. “What genre are we feeling? Horror?” she asked, hopefully.

It seemed like she and Athena hadn’t been the only ones who showed up matching. Ariana waved to Blanche and Nell appreciating their crop tops. She stood up to grab some drinks for her and Athena though she was pretty sure she’d be skipping out on the brownies. She’d never tried them before and wasn’t sure a big group of people was the place to start. “I’ll take you up on one of those beers. Did you want one, Athena?” At the mention of horror movies, Ariana shrugged. “Sounds a little close to real life, but I’m down.” 

She figured that her brother was going to be here. Athena gave a small, half-wave to Rio, though she didn’t look over at him for too long. They hadn’t been together since everything and she still wasn’t sure what she was supposed to do. The idea of the brownies wasn’t especially appealing, even if part of her wondered if Nell’s addition to it was a bit more magical than most. “Uh, sure.” She said, looking at Ariana. “If there’s cider I’d prefer that but beer can do.” She waved at Nell and Blanche. “Nice matching.” It didn’t hurt to at least appear pleasant, and she could only do so much to calm down her nerves - getting into an argument wasn’t going to help with any of that. “What horror films? I can’t say I’m super expert on that genre.” Ironically enough.

There was the sound of a large truck pulling up and a loud bawdy conversation on the street about someone being manscaped with a weedwacker, only for said someone to shout back an incoherent taunt about some physically impossible things Adam’s mother engaged in last night. More voices joined in the from the truck until it was unclear where mothers, weedwhackers, body hair, contortionist sex positions, chocolate fudge, and lighter fluid all fit into this. However all involved seemed to part even more cheerful than before and the car departed. 

Sporting a letterman jacket and a red baseball cap with faint stains of a deeper scarlet,  Adam burst in smelling faintly of lock-room soap and the lingering grass scent of the football field. 

Still flush with post-practice endorphins, Adam vaulted over the back of the nearest free couch as if it were a track hurdle and crashed down into the open seat. 

“Sup my bodacious bastards?”

"Horror is good by me. Blair Witch or something? Could always go with Scream. Classic slasher." Connor grabbed a cider for himself. He had bought enough so that nobody needed to bring their own, but it was a nice gesture. It wasn't long before Adam turned up. You really couldn't miss him. "Life of the party, I see," Connor greeted. "The loud-mouthed jock of my dreams,” he teased, his grin flashing all the way up to his eyes. “Want a beer mate? We were just deciding on a movie." 

Nell abandoned her pot filled brownies on the coffee table, grabbing a few drinks after waving a welcome to Winston and Orion, and first offering one to Blanche with a “For you” before taking another. Then she plopped herself down on the same couch before also handing one to Adam should he want it. “And here you go, ‘bodacious’;” she said with a slight snort. Nell couldn’t pretend that she wasn’t a bit worried to have the two of them in the same place after Winn’s death, but maybe alcohol was another key factor in glossing all of that over for the moment being. She popped open the top of her own bottle with a household spell, realizing she’d forgotten a bottle opener before taking a swig of it. “I’m right here,” she joked at the mention of Blair Witch, even if she knew it was less about witches and more about general spookiness.

Swallowing a mouthful of beer, Winston watched Adam enter the room. This was not your classic set up, hunters, werewolves, exorcists, spellcasters and god knew what else. But they were their friends and Winston was doing their best to be more normal in their endeavours and their life. “Not everything is about you Nell sweetie,” Winston reached down and plucked a brownie from the plate, tentatively nibbling on it and smiling. Thank God they weren’t driving tonight. “I’ve heard that Midsommar is meant to be really good, Heritage too. Not sure if any of those appeal to you. They’re meant to be more nordic or something? I don’t know. I read something about them a while back.”

The place was full of familiar faces, and maybe for the first time Orion found himself at what could basically be considered a party surrounded completely by people that he considered friends. Or at least, friends plus one very odd addition in the first of his twin sister. She stuck close with Ariana. The pair still baffled Rio, seeing them together and matching was even more jarring. Coupled with Blanche and Nell wearing the same thing maybe Rio and the others really had missed some sort of memo. Athena’s small wave was maybe a step, but not much of one. Rio returned the wave, both of them turning their backs to each other as Rio made his way to the kitchen, pondering whether or not he was going to drink. He decided to go for it after a long moment’s hesitation and picked a cider, “It’s someone’s job to make sure I don’t get drunk. I have an embarrassingly small tolerance.” He said aloud to no one in particular, only sort of joking and then found his way to the couch where Adam had just leapt over, “A cult movie may be hitting a bit close to home, don’t you think?” Rio laughed, but shrugged the concern away, “It looks pretty though. I’m down for anything.”

Connor was pretty indifferent to any drama that might have existed between anyone in the group, so he didn’t pay any mind to Blanche’s reaction to Adam. "Yes, Nell, you're our White Crest witch, very different," Connor teased. Since everyone was here, it wouldn't do any harm to grab a brownie. He'd just have to pace himself. "Oh shit, if we're talking 'high brow' horror," he made little air quotes around the words, "Hereditary and Midsommar would be sick. Get Out, too. I just figured we'd probably want something we can get pissed and stoned to and not pay that much attention," he snickered. "Oh, there's also Happy Death Day and The Babysitter if we want newer Netflix shit." He shrugged, sipping his drink. “I’m not fussed though. Whatever anyone else wants to watch.” 

It was good to see Adam in seemingly better spirits than the last time she saw him. Ariana still felt a twinge of guilt that her trust in others had nearly led to his death, but he was here now and they were all going to have a good time. “Hey, Adam,” she greeted with a wave as he swung over the couch. She looked back to Athena with a small smile and said, “Cider it is.” She made her way to the kitchen and chimed in, “I’m not sure Winston, I’m pretty sure Nell took a DNA test and she’s 100% that witch.” She grabbed a beer for herself and a cider for Athena. It dawned on her that she hadn’t seen any of the movies mentioned but she laughed a bit over the cult part. “I’ve seen like none of those, so I’m good with whatever.” She slid back into her seat by Athena and handed her a cider. “Here you go,” she said brightly. She knew Athena was still down over everything that happened and she wanted this to be a nice night for both of them. Hell, she was pretty sure everyone in this room needed a break from White Crest being White Crest and she wanted that for all of them. 

She gave a small wave to Adam as he arrived. At least he seemed to be in relatively good spirits, which was something. “How’s it going Adam?” She raised an eyebrow. “This feels a little different than our usual sort of party, doesn’t it?” Athena nodded at Ariana’s comment, watching as she went over to grab the drinks. “One of my sisters is a sociology and film double major and wrote a paper about Get Out - she had us all watch it so I actually have seen that, but I can’t say I’m too familiar with the others.” She did know that if anything was too full of jump scares she might react poorly, but that was what fiddling with the hem of her shirt was for, wasn’t it? She accepted the cider from Ariana and took a sip. “Whatever everyone else wants to go with.” She couldn’t help but sigh when she noticed that her brother had the same drink as her, though only a small smile covered her lips.

Connor had a big grin on his face as they drank and chatted. It had been a while since he'd had a proper group of friends like this. He had friends, of course, but high school and college he'd still been coming into his own as a medium and starting up his YouTube channel. People thought he was kind of weird. In White Crest, he wasn't weird at all. He was probably one of the most normal. "Okay, we're gonna have to take votes on the movie," he snickered, smoking his vape. "Probably something on the less serious side of things, yeah? We've got enough shit going on. Happy Death Day or The Babysitter are both on Netflix." He got a feeling there was a little more going on with the ‘serious’ side of things than he knew about, but he didn’t want to stick his nose into other people’s business. This night was about relaxing, not rehashing the bad shit.

Adam had once been taught that he’d been born to stand apart from humanity, amongst but not a part of it. The preservation of mankind’s destiny required forsaking anything that’d inhibit neutrality or cause a Hunter to become entangled in disputes between human beings. Thus Adam had grown up play-acting, his life during the day just a pleasant cover identity for who he really was. 

Now it was all he was. 

This reversal tugged at Adam as he watched his friends banter and meander on the way to actually choosing a movie. All his life Adam had been told to focus, remain vigilant against the inevitable return of the old gods. Was that why he lost his powers? Focusing too much on enjoying humanity’s company instead of protecting it? 

These and other thoughts whirled behind Adam’s grin as he accepted the beer. “Glad my beach body lives rent free in your head Con,” Adam replied with a wink to Connor at the mention of being the jock of his dreams. 

“Dunno about Happy Death Day, I’ve had about enough dead chick drama for a while.”

Adam ‘thought’ for a moment, which is to say he took a few glugs of beer like a man dying of thirst in the desert and went with the first idea that popped up in his brain when the alcohol hit his system. 

“Let’s do truth or dare while we decide? Bet that should be a trip with well...us”

Blanche had a hold on the remote, somewhat zoning out while people debated the choice in movie. She was doing that more, lately, but she had always been easily distracted. That was more because ghosts though. Only at the mention of Truth or Dare did Blanche snap out of it. Leaning against the armrest, she took a sip of her beer, glancing over at Adam. Considering it a moment, she put the remote down. “I'm down for a game of Truth or Dare,” she said, glancing around. Was this what all parties were like? She looked over at Nell, almost a little unsure for a second. “Sounds like fun?”

In all honesty, Nell much preferred the concept of Truth or Dare in comparison to a movie. At this rate with all the strangeness that made its home in White Crest, horror flicks were nearly laughable at times. Besides- Truth or Dare was probably something that demanded more attention, which was a welcome distraction from current stressors. And that was the whole point of this get together, wasn’t it? Giving Blanche a reassuring nod, Nell sat straighter on the couch as if readying herself for the game. “Let’s do it.” She took another draw of her drink before looking around the circle with a new and challenging glint in her eyes. “Who wants to go first?”

“Truth or Dare? That’s on Netflix as well,” Connor said, flicking through the horror suggestions until he found it. Only a few clicks in did he realise that wasn’t what Adam had been referring to. “Oh, did you mean the actual game?” He laughed, just switching to a music playlist in the background and folding his feet under him while he made himself comfy on the sofa. “Wait a minute, I’m down and everything, but someone’s gonna have to explain what rules we’re playing by. Everyone does ‘em different.” 

Truth or dare sounded like the worst idea possible. Orion did not consider himself to be a very daring person by nature. But at the rate life had been going the last month, he wasn’t exactly keen on the idea of answering any truths either. Not that he was far bound to answer truthfully anyways... unless that was a thing in White Crest. Regardless, the result terrified him. But the Rio here tonight wanted to be the okay version of Rio. The one not bogged down by the death of his parents. So he took a long drink from the cider and wiped at his mouth, making the gesture overly dramatic to try to hide the soured look he gave from the taste of alcohol. “Me. I’ll go first. Dare me.” This was absolutely a bad idea, but Rio had gotten pretty good at those. “Oh. Rules?” Rio heard what Connor questioned, but had never played the game before. “Cool. Well explain the rules and then dare me.”

This was just about the last game that Athena wanted to play. Even if she chose truth, which she wasn’t planning to, she could still omit certain aspects of it. It came along with her training and she didn’t trust most people here enough to reveal any deep secrets. So dares it would be - and it seemed like her brother was following the same path. “I mean, different versions are different but you get asked truth or dare - if it’s truth, someone can ask you any question about anything,” she raised an eyebrow at him, “and if it’s dare then you have to do whatever they ask. There’s sometimes consequences for not completing either.” She took a sip of her drink. “But dare? Since you’re new at this, we can start easy. I dare you to drink the rest of your cider in under a minute.” She crossed her legs. “Whoever’s up next, I also choose dare.”

Orion was surprised that Athena had been the first one to dare him. She had even been pretty lenient, daring him to just finish his drink. Easier said than done to a complete lightweight who had no experience drinking, but as far as the things he could have been dared to do this felt like he was getting off easily. “Done.” He had seen the movies before, so Rio kneeled down on one knee and tipped the bottle against his mouth, chugging as fast as he could. The drink instantly turned bitter against his tongue and he thought it would never end. But if he could survive his birthday he could finish a cider. He finally finished the thing off with an explosive coughing followed by him falling back on his butt. “I’m totally not going to puke.” He wasn’t sure if he was telling everyone that or trying to convince himself not to.

Adam stood up from the couch and strode to the far side of the room, gingerly stepping over and around people so as to not crunch knees or beers. He took an empty solo cup and placed it on a piece of furniture. The footballer knelt next to the door and produced a small grip-exercise ball. He offered the little squishy ball to Athena with a grin.. 

“I dare you to close your eyes and try to throw this call in the cup. Take a shot each time you miss.” 

Adam performed another one-handed vault over the back of the into his seat, but the alcohol and post-practice endorphins in his system caused the Hunter to land far more ignominiously in a heap of sinewy limbs and cushions.

“Truth”

“Easy-peasy.” Athena smirked, before standing up. She handed her cider to Ariana and grabbed the ball from Adam. “I’ve got this no problem.” She took the ball and closed her eyes, concentrating on the location of the solo cup before rolling her shoulders and giving a small toss, eyes flickering open as she heard it hit the inside. She turned around, walking by Adam before bending over to whisper in his ear. “I do have excellent reflexes, just to remind you.” She found her space back by Ariana again. “Feeling rather successful right now, I think.”

”Wow, nice!” Connor enthused as Athena hit the shot. “I’ve got a truth,” he blurted out, feeling the effects of his drink and Nell’s magic brownies, a pleasant tingling sensation overtaking his body. “Have you never done anything even the slightest bit gay? Because honestly, only the most heterosexual guy ever could have not understood those sword crossing comments,” he laughed at the memory. Ah, simpler times, when he didn’t know that half these people were murderers and there weren’t freshly resurrected evil spirits out to get them. Then again, Connor was starting to get the impression that stuff was common in White Crest. Best not get too comfortable. “And you can truth or dare me all you want. I’m not bothered, mate.” 

Ariana watched somewhat in awe as Athena performed her dare. It was definitely impressive to watch and she couldn’t help the small grin on her face as Athena came back over to take her seat by her. “That was awesome,” she said as she gave Athena a small pat on the back. There was another dare to be dished out so she quickly chimed in, “Connor, I dare you to do a dance challenge as your next YouTube video. I’m thinking the In My Feelings Challenge.” She realized that meant it was her turn, so she added, “I pick dare for myself.” 

“A Dance Challenge?” Connor snorted, waving his hand, affectionately dismissive. “That’s not my style, babe. Oh, I could definitely do it on TikTok though. You didn’t say which platform it had to be on.” He whipped out his phone, looking up a couple. “I can probably film it right now, since I’m tipsy, but you’ll have to hold my phone.” He looked up a few examples then got up, only a little wobbly on his feet. “I have no fucking idea how to do this shit,” he laughed, looking over to Ariana and handing her his phone. He’d watched a few versions of the thing he was trying to recreate. “Ready?”  

Adam hadn’t been raised with particularly strong feelings on different sexualities other than that they existed. Really, Dad had been far more concerned that his sons knew the proper masculine values of honor, wilderness survival, coordinated squad tactics, and the domestic arts of building explosives from homemade materials rather than getting hung up on what dangly bits were going where. 

“Uh,” Adam thought about Conner’s question. “Was never really wired that way, but after I pledged I was curious bout what I was missing,” the footballer acknowledged with a shameless ease. “Talked to some frat brothers who were all about that life, and they uh…showed me around…in the showers.” 

“Was kinna funnish-awkward,” he admitted with a shrug, “but not really my speed…. not sure that lgeit counts as gay though. It was just educational, y’know?”

Nell saw her opportunity as it became Ariana’s turn for a dare, and leaned forward on the couch to set down her now empty bottle on the table, feeling a nice, warm buzz as the alcohol began to do its work. She hummed for a moment, as if taking her time to come up with a suitable enough dare for the girl. Ariana knew how to go big or go home— which admittedly was something the two of them had in common. “I dare you to....” Then the idea came to her. What was the most horrendous thing that White Crest had to offer? “Match with a mime on Tinder. Match with the mime- and have at least five back and forths of texts.” Then Nell sat back, satisfied with her work to say, “And I’ll take a dare.”

“Educational and gay,” Connor nodded. “Sorry I missed it.” He made sure Ariana was ready to record and then going into the routine. He pretty much nailed it. Although he was a little drunk, it was evident that the experience and intent behind the moves was there. “Did I forget to mention I did ballet and theatre for years?” He winked into the camera before grabbing it for Ari so he could edit and laugh. “Aw, that was sick. Sorry, what was that?” His expression changed when he heard what Nell’s dare was. “There are mimes on tinder?” 

Ariana whooped and cheered into the camera as Connor finished showing off his moves. She tilted her head surprised by his revelation. “That explains the moves,” she said with a laugh, “Gotta respect a guy who knows ballet, right?” As Nell took the chance to dare her, she looked to her with a raised brow that was practically challenging her to do her worst. She burst out laughing at the thought of mimes on Tinder. “Oh god,” she said through laughs, “Blanche get over here and help me mime-ify my Tinder.” It was only a few back and forth messages. Hopefully, the profile update wouldn’t ruin future matches, but she found she was losing interest in it anyhow, especially with her current roommate. “I’m thinking more dramatic and artsy to go with the mime vibe?” 

“Nell!” Blanche said, “That's cruel!” But she was laughing. She pushed herself to her feet, though, and carefully made her way to grab Ariana’s phone. “Artsy, got it.” A Connoisseur of Mime. Don't talk to me if you don't mime. And if you do mime… you know what to do ;-----). Blanche read over what she wrote, before she grinned, hanging the phone back to Ariana. “Happy swiping!” Which meant… Blanche turned to Nell, a mischievous smile on her face. “In order to get revenge for poor Ariana… I dare you to call the Stripe Club to inquire about employment opportunities and if you get an interview, you gotta go.” Blanche said proudly. 

She paused, considering her own options. “Truth. For me, I mean.”

“There are definitely mimes on Tinder,” Nell confirmed with a grin, having seen some of them for herself during perusals of the app. “Maybe Ari will find her true love with a mime, who knows?” It was disturbing to say the least, though sometimes she’d match with a mime just to troll them for a while. After all— every mime was guilty by association. She should have expected the mimery to be turned back on her, but still pulled a revolted face at the thought of going anywhere near a mime establishment. “If I die- it’s your fault,” she pointed an accusing finger towards Blanche all while googling the number for the Stripe Club. She wasn’t sure who exactly it was that asked Blanche her truth while Nell began her job search at a mime strip club and Ariana commenced her swiping. Someone was leaning over to watch the dance video Connor had made, and another person was getting up to grab another drink from the fridge. The air was warm and bright as the night stretched onwards, and it seemed that against all odds the youth of White Crest had finally managed to find a single evening where they were allowed to exist only as themselves, and not the people the world forced them to be. 

[the-gunslock]

Amanda 3 - Hammer

Third canon-deviant fic about Amanda Holliday and her journey to being greater, from a mini-series of four.

"This one would be pret-tyyy cool…"

The burnt-blonde Shipwright scrolls through the 'Collections' of Exotics Guardians found in their journeys, analyzing their perks as she patiently waits to be called inside the most envied library in the City.

For some seconds, her emerald eyes fall on a pair of knightly silver Gauntlets that could be what she looks for. She ‘hmm’s to herself for a second, trying on some shaders, and nods in approval.

"Amanda, let's go."

Her head moves to pay attention to the Warlock that has just arrived at her usual spot at the Bazaar, greeting her with a nod as she stows her tablet away and is transmatted into the library. She makes a mental note of the name ‘Stronghold’. Shaxx would probably appreciate her dedication to swordplay.

Other pieces like Fr0st-EE5 and Transversive Steps, which do not require Light usage, would also benefit her while she fought. Good to know, good to know. So many loopholes to be exploited.

Ikora Rey had devoted the day to silent studying and rewriting of her books, still not completely updated after the Traveler’s awakening in recent times. In order to focus better, she does most of it quietly and alone in the library, save for the Hidden that appear to report to her on occasion. Today was an exception, for she allowed the Tower’s Shipwright to keep her company under the pretension that she wanted to learn, and there was no better teacher for that than Ikora.

Ikora’s library has dim, yellow lighting and a rustic aesthetic, with bookshelves and flooring made of dark wood covered with blue and white tapestry. The overall layout of the place was circular, the center having her desk and simple chairs and couches disposed about.

"So, Amanda." Ikora begins, making herself comfortable at the table and suggesting Amanda to do the same, across from her. "What do you seek?"

Amanda quietly taps her fingertips at the table, fidgeting as she tries to formulate a good reason.

"I wanna learn how to… to fight. Like y'all Guardians do."

Ikora doesn’t turn her head, but smiles.

“Is that so?”

“Uh… yeah?”

Ikora gives a chuckle as she finishes rewriting a page.

“I think not.”

“...Why not?”

Not faltering, Ikora turns her head to face her friend as she hovers her hand above the book. “Because if you wanted to learn how to fight, you would have asked Zavala. And, if the words I received are true... you already did.”

Amanda doesn’t have an answer to that, only looking at the desk and pressing her lips together, the inquietude only building up. She observes Ikora using an emanation of Solar heat to dry the ink on the pages.

“Ikora, I… want to be a Guardian. I thought I could ask you to teach me how to think like one.”

As the Warlock turns to the book again, she turns a page and looks at a previous version of the book, also spread open on another part of the table, for reference. “Okay. And why aren’t you?”

She is caught off-guard by this question. She struggles to let out her answer, and the next sentence comes out a bit more condescending than she’d hoped.

“Because I’m not a Lightbearer?” Amanda replies as if it was something obvious.

“During the Red War, we weren’t either.” Ikora says as she starts writing once more. “And I went through the same dilemma. I was lost. I looked to the ashes emanating from the City, and vowed… never again. And since I had nowhere left to go, I found myself on Io, in search for answers. As time passes me by, I realized I was left without answers, without Light, without my team... without anything to hold on to.”

“And then?”

“A Guardian found me. One of those who had made the pilgrimage to the Shard of the Traveler and recovered their Light. They could have refused, but they didn’t. They could have quit the fight, but even if they knew they were going to die, they didn’t. And their very presence reminded me that, while the terms are, indeed, very associable to the outside observer, they are not the same.”

The Shipwright listens intently as Ikora recounts her tale. There were many angles to this. Most, she didn’t consider. Multiple viewpoints are a virtue Guardians must possess.

“It took me some introspection and some... unprecedented incidents, for me to believe that I am more than just my Light, and in being greater than the Light, protecting it and the people who live through its influence is what made me who I am. So, as long as you strive to perfect yourself, you’ll always be one."

Ikora eyes her friend without turning her head this time. Her eyes are amiable, as fierce as they looked.

"A Guardian, Lightbearer or not... is always a Guardian.”

The Warlock delivered each part of that sentence in a very light, but thorough manner, a way that Amanda didn’t even think was possible. It was a nail she still had to hammer, that Guardians are more than just their Light.

During the Red War, Amanda had argued with Zavala after the Traveler was imprisoned and the Light lost. “There are thousands of people like me stranded down there in the City", she had said; “We're all the same now, Holliday. The Light is gone.” She was too angry to realize at the time, but looking back, she realizes she had taken the Guardianship for granted.

While she still didn’t like having to obey Zavala and leave citizens to die, it was paying off, in a way. Everything they did, they did for mankind. And it was beginning to thrive again, the best they could. She could feel it, even if her mission was far from over and new threats were still bound to come.

With a deep breath, she promises to face them gladly.

"Thank you, Ikora." The Shipwright says, eliciting a smile and a deep nod from the Vanguard that was still focused on writing the page.

Amanda pulls out her sketchbook and starts drawing over a sketch of herself. But before she continues, she has an idea for the final part of the 'secret-unnamed-project'.

"Can I, ah, look around for a book?”

“Do you need help with anything?”

“Yeah, actually. Wanna know where the name ‘Leviathan’ comes from.”

Ikora pulls up her own tablet, doing a query search for the word on the archive. It narrows down to multiple editions of a religious book from the old world, called ‘Bible’. Taking a break from writing, she hovers over to a particular section of the library, taking an intricate, gold-foil crafted book, meticulously turning its pages to where the query told her. “Job 41:1–34”, it said. She floats back to Amanda, laying the open book in front of her, before going back to her own seat.

She devours the verses, at first barely making heads or tails of what was on the pages. 'Why'd people back in the day write so weird?' She thought to herself. But eventually she managed to understand what it was about, and suddenly the name of Calus' ship made much more sense.

"Did you gather something new, my friend?"

Amanda recaps in her mind, making sure to try not to miss anything.

"Right, so- uh...” Amanda begins to explain her thoughts, trying not to let anything pass her by. “There was this man named Job, whose faith in this god couldn't be waived. In this part, the god is tryna teach Job how questioning a powerful being is futile by presenting him beasts so powerful that only he can control, one a them being a sea monster called, you guessed it, the Leviathan."

"How awfully appropriate."

"Yep. Apparently there were two beasts, a sea one, and a... land one."

Realization came into Amanda's mind as a name for her project finally snuck through her hands and into the paper.

"Reminds me of the World Serpent..." She adds nonchalantly, having doing some reading on the Edda in her free time back at Hiver’s place.

Ikora finally perks up from her book, stretching her writing hand. "You've been doing some homework."

"Hard not to, when you date a Warlock."

"And you are going to tell them about this… when?"

The one question Amanda dreaded, and it shows. Her 'Lightless Guardian' idea was nothing short of life-threatening, it's amazing she's got this far without being stopped.

Amanda had survived her whole life on the road, fighting off Fallen and hiding with hers and other families, but she would never, ever get rid of the pain of losing them. She survived and is happier than she's ever been, even if it's not a perfect life. Now, she was Hiver's family, and cannot bear the image of her lover having to go through the same — because of her own incompetence, nonetheless.

There was no telling how Hiver would react, the woman is already being a pile of anxieties, but of one thing she was sure.

It wouldn't be pretty.

“I don’t... know.“

"I can help if you'd like. But remember that this is your responsibility — and your burden."

She nods with a nervous face and gives a deep sigh.

“I’ll think of something. Can you take me back to the Tower?”

“Yes. And Amanda?”

“Yes?”

“Congratulations on finding love. Hold on to it. It is powerful.”

As nervous as she is, she nods smiling.

“Ophiuchus?” Ikora says to no one. Her Ghost, white and red and with spiking protrusions on the back of his shell, appears in the air next to her shoulder.

“One second.” He replies, spinning.

With a flash, Amanda is back at the Tower’s bazaar. Eyeing the drawing she has just finished, she runs to the Courtyard, in search of a person who could help her make it look much better.

Trying to ignore the built-up tension, she runs.

The Awoken woman stationed at the Tower Courtyard is, as usual, cleaning up dust and reorganizing her inventory, because it’s not home yet, but it would be. Then she hears a familiar voice calling to her.

“Tess!”

“Oh! Hello, Amanda. What can I do for you today?” Tess greets the Shipwright, assuming her usual hands-behind-back posture and giving her usual, welcoming smile.

“See, I got a lil’ project o’ my own, and wanted an expert’s opinion on how ta make it look the sharpest it can.”

Amanda presents the sketchbook with her sketch to Tess, who analyzes it meticulously.

It’s a suit of armor. Titan armor, to be more precise.

“Gothic knight inspiration… baroque decor… exquisite. Practical, but carries a lot of elegance. This looks incredible. Also, you draw extraordinarily well.”

“Thank you,” The Shipwright says, blushing. “But it lacks color. What would ya say works?”

“Excuse me.“

Tess takes the notebook into what appears to be a scanner, converting Amanda’s drawing into a digital projection that can easily be colored, and bringing it to the desk where they both could see it.

“Right, in my opinion the ornaments and trim should definitely be gold.” She says, quickly selecting the decorative parts of the plates and changing their colors to a light golden color. “The style reminds me of Gjallarhorn and the old Iron Lords’ armor. Maybe we can make it a bit more orange…”

“Would black fit with it, maybe?”

She changes the main plate colors to black. Tess and Amanda look at each other in disapproval.

“How about…” Tess changes the color to a deep blue.

“Can you try dark gray?” Amanda asks, and Tess obeys. However, it still seems to not fit, and they experiment with a midpoint between blue and gray.

“What do you think?”

“I like it.”

“Me too.”

Amanda scratches her nose, taking some time to think. The girls mix and match palettes for a while until finding one that fits the armor well.

Dark gray plates with crimson details, gold ornaments, and a white, gold-trimmed mark.

“Whew… Thank you, Tess. Anything I can do to repay ya?”

“The pleasure is mine. Although if you have some Silver on you…” Tess says, smiling smugly. “Just kidding.”

“My girlfriend does. She’ll probably come by again, she wants that duster you’re selling. Says she wants to look like a cowgirl.”

Tess laughs at this, eliciting a grin from Amanda, who picks her sketchbook and transfers the colored illustration file from the Awoken vendor to her own tablet, almost walking off and ready to send it to Crux/Lomar for forging.

“Oh, Amanda.”

“Yeah?” She turns back to face Tess.

“Does it have a name?” She asks in genuine curiosity.

Amanda smiles contagiously in pride, remembering what she read from the Bible in Ikora’s library. She had the perfect name for her project, given what was going down on the System — and how she’d fight it, if need be.

“The Behemoth.”

[cycat4077]

Rollisi?

Ok, first off as a disclaimer: I’m “new” to SVU in the sense that child me watched it a long time ago, then stopped watching it THEN, thanks to re-runs on tv, got into “newer” shows from season 15(?). One thing lead to another and I was watching a few new episodes from season 21.

AND I fell in love with Carisi. I’m currently doing a watch from season 16 onwards to catch up. (Just finished season 17.) One of the other disclaimers I should mention is that I tend to have a type when it comes to favorite characters on shows. I usually root for the underdog or the character that tends to get overlooked. Most times this is a male character who is a big family-oriented sweetheart with a strong moral code who likes to take care of people: BJ Hunnicutt from M*A*S*H and Edwin Jarvis from Agent Carter are two of my beloveds besides Sonny Carisi. And upon “adopting” these characters I have a hard time pairing them with any other characters UNLESS there’s a deep and trusting relationship there. That’s because I don’t want my baby to get hurt. I go all protective momma bear over them and I want only THE BEST for them.

Now that that’s out of the way, here’s what I think about Rollisi. I “get” it. If I was only tuning into season 21, it would be a different story. But having watched the mid-season finale, while I do my catch-up watching, I can spot some of the subtle hints and things. And I understand why the writers keep hinting at it.

Sonny and Rollins have a pretty trusting relationship. We get to see that especially when Sonny guesses that Rollins is pregnant with Jesse. Sonny is kind and understanding. She confides in him. He’s a non-judgmental ear, which is something she has been lacking. He’s there for her and is genuinely concerned for her whenever complications arise, etc. He makes her dinner and spends time with her and Jesse when he gets a chance to. Sonny is a giver who doesn’t expect anything in return for his kindness. And I think Rollins really values that in him.

The trouble is that Rollins has never been one to be sure of what she wants. She’s hot-headed and non-committal. That’s how she ends up with two kids from two dads and I think she’s secretly afraid that people will judge her on that. That’s why she’s afraid to tell Carisi when she’s pregnant for Billie. But Sonny doesn’t judge her. He never did, never will. And I think that kind of love (be it platonic or romantic on Sonny’s behalf) scares Rollins. She’s used to people not giving a sh*t what she does or for her decisions to be judged (especially by her own family). But Sonny cares. So when she has that outburst at him in S21 where she’s mad that he left, it’s because she’s scared to lose that unconditional “love”. Maybe her head has been pushing her away from letting herself get close to Sonny romantically, while her heart is telling her the opposite. Rollins seems to have a lot of inner conflicts that she has a hard time resolving and what exactly her relationship with Sonny IS could be another one of those conflicts. We get more of that in the therapist’s office last episode.

On Sonny’s side, let me take a quote from Peter from one of the podcasts:

“There’s a private life of Rollins & Carisi that kind of exists outside of the show […] Carisi can be a version of himself or a more open version of himself, I think, with Rollins in a way that he’s not with other people. And I think that’s a very close relationship that’s awesome to have.”

Of course Peter can’t either confirm or deny Rollisi, but I think this quote gives insight into who Sonny is. He started as the new guy trying to prove himself. Usually he’s pretty serious on the job and very passionate about his work. But we do get small glimpses into how sweet and caring he is, especially with family and by how he interacts with Rollins’ kids. We don’t get a lot of that “open version” of Carisi unless he’s in the above two scenarios, especially with Rollins. And I believe that’s the basis of a healthy relationship. You need to be able to be yourself. 

And this is where my conflicted feelings about Rollisi arise. I want the best for Sonny. I want him to have a relationship where he can be himself - like what Peter describes is the case with Rollins. But I’m not sure Rollins is ready or will ever be ready to give all of herself over to another human being in that way. She’s very guarded and I’m not sure she can open herself up to Carisi in the same way he has opened up to her. In part, I feel if Rollins decides to get together with Sonny she might see it as “settling”. A good dependable choice for herself and kids. BUT, Sonny would not see it that way. I think he does love her. He loves her kids, he admires her devotion to the job and to being a single parent. He loves her for who she is and doesn’t try to change her. So, while Sonny may be thrilled if they got together and takes on the paternal figure plus doting boyfriend instantaneously, Rollins may end up having feelings of regret. Was this the right decision for me? And I don’t want Sonny to ever be placed in a one-way relationship with ANYONE. He deserves the world and I feel extremely protective over him and his heart. I want him to have a family, but even though he looks perfectly natural with Rollins’ kids in his arms, I don’t want him to be locked into something that eventually turns loveless on Rollins’ end.

I guess we’ll see what unfolds tonight. If the writers are going to make a Rollisi move, it’s now. One of them will have to inadvertently say their true feelings in the heat of the moment/threat of losing one another. Maybe it’ll be Sonny saying something like: “I don’t know what I would have done if I’d lost you” or Amanda saying in some roundabout way that she loves him. Who knows.

Do I ship them? Maybe. But they still have a lot of growth to do if I’m going to believe it. Rollins needs to get a grip on what she truly wants and Sonny can’t let her have his heart if she doesn’t know what to do with it.

Sorry for the long post. All this has been tumbling around in my noggin’ for a while now.

EDIT - post mid-season 21 premier. Spoilers ahoy

I think this episode confirms that Sonny does indeed care deeply about Rollins. He’s ANGRY™ when he finds out she’s been kidnapped. He blames himself for it too. You can tell how conflicted he is since he’s essentially powerless to help her directly.

I think that the writers did make a Rollisi move in terms of Amanda herself. And this is what I had mentioned above: I’m not going to buy into shipping it, unless Rollins does some soul searching. When she was in that motel she spilled some pretty deep seeded fears. She grew up believing she did not deserve to be happy. That’s what she saw from her mother. She believes she doesn’t deserve nice guys. But she’s terrified that her daughters will grow up that way too and I think this is the push she needs to finally put her happiness first. And who has always been there for her, unconditionally and without judgement? Who is a nice guy? Dominick “Sonny” Carisi Jr. The foundation is there, they just need to build on it. Have Rollins change her attitude and views about herself and grow that self-confidence. Sonny’s the type of guy who will wait for her, however long it may take.

The big hint at Rollisi was at the end. If you don’t ship it, then the elevator scene could be interpreted as a very healthy friendship where two people trust one another and have each other’s backs. But if you put on some shipper goggles, it could definitely be considered the wind to get that ship a-sailing. Amanda holds herself together until Sonny and her are alone and he asks if she’s ok. Then she lets her guard down and says no, crying. She’s done that in the past with him too. But Sonny cradles her and says multiple times: “I got you.” And that could be the defining line in the script. Anyway, it’s some type of love, regardless if you’re wearing shipping goggles or not.

I really hope that if they are heading down the Rollisi pathway, we start to see more growth on that front. More giving from Rollins and Sonny finally being able to accept something in return. It’s a lovely friendship no matter what and I’d love to see it grow. And because it’s a friendship and I firmly believe that frienship should be the basis of any romantic relationship, I wouldn’t be necessarily opposed to Rollisi becoming more someday in the future.

Just don’t break my Sonnyshine’s heart

[sinsiriuslyemo]

Our Dearest Readers,

Hey all! @missjennifercole​ has had quite the week and I figured I’d take something off her plate. Here is episode 49 of Cuba v DR. We’ve got one episode left and I am FREAKING OUT! I really hope we’ve done this series justice.

I’ve been reading through some of the previous season the last few days, gearing up for whenever we decide to start going through them to edit, and I think along the way I’m comfortable saying that we’ve had some stumbles, but hopefully the ending we have in mind leaves you guys satisfied. We love you all so much and especially those of you that have been with us since the beginning of this series, the amount of love and support for not only the story but for us as the writers has often times been overwhelming and I think I speak for both Jen and myself when I say that we have the most amazing readers on the planet.

Sinceriously,

Amanda

EPISODE 49

After work Roxie was happy to be home, she loved her job but lately she found that she had started missing Liam more. She’d had her first talk therapy session that morning and despite it only having been one session, she had already begun to feel better. At least the thought of seeing her baby was much less anxiety-inducing as it had been the day before. 

“It was so wonderful to watch you work, Roxanne. The camera loves you, darling,” Helena said, beaming with pride at her oldest daughter.

“Thank you, mum. I loved having you there as well. My co-host can be a bit much to deal with at times.” Roxie rolled her eyes at the thought, it had seemed that Aaron had been coming up with any excuse for them to have to reshoot this or that. “I was thinking we should take Liam to get some pictures done, professionally, baby portraits. It will be a chance to send it out to the family,” she said to her mother as she fumbled for her keys in her purse. “Plus Rafael and I have only been taking pictures on our phones and he’s doubling in size regularly. Soon he’ll be thirty at this rate.” She opened the door walking inside. 

“Oh, that would be lovely! Your father and I would have a photo of him to hang in our living room,” Helena answered.

“Precisely my thoughts,” Roxie answered as she pushed the door open. “We’re back,” she called out to her husband, moving into the living room where she usually found the two snuggling on the couch. When she found an empty room, Roxie turned to her mother. “That’s strange. Rafael left me a message telling me they were already home.”

“Well, perhaps they went out to pick up something to eat,” Helena replied with a bob of her shoulders.

“It’s close to Liam’s bedtime, I can’t imagine a reason why they’d leave.” She heard a cry from the bedroom, immediately sighing in relief as she moved into the room. “There you are-“ she paused, looking around and frowning. “Rafi?” 

She picked her son up, patting him on the back and gently rocking him as she moved into the guest bedroom where Helena was staying, and searched. There would be no reason for him to be in there but she was quickly running out of locations. 

“Love?” 

“Something wrong, darling?” Helena asked from the kitchen.

The lights were out, eerie silence of the room only deepening the pit in her stomach. She moved to the guest bathroom, then their bedroom, their adjoining bathroom as she felt real panic settle in. Rafael barely set Liam down at all, he’d never just leave. 

She turned to her mother, brows furrowed. “He’s nowhere.” 

“What do you mean, he’s nowhere?” Helena asked as she closed the fridge. “Perhaps in the bath?”

“I’ve checked everywhere, mum. He's not anywhere,” she said, moving to pick up her phone in her free hand. 

“Something’s happened,” Helena said, her previous task of warming food for her and Roxie completely forgotten. “He would never leave Liam alone.”

“I’m calling the police,” Roxie replied, thumb already moving over the flat screen of her cell phone.

“Isn’t his sister close by? You should call her after. Perhaps she knows something.” 

Roxie nodded, dialing 9-1-1 and listening to the longest three rings of her entire life. Even as she began to talk to the operator, she felt like this couldn’t be real. Rafael would never just leave their son alone in the apartment, she was offended just at the thought. But anything was more preferable than thinking something horrible happened. 

Her husband wasn’t shy of enemies from court cases or even by proxy of Nevada and that put him in a dangerous position. She couldn’t help but feel something had happened here, something truly bad. 

When she hung up the phone, she was trembling.

“I can call his sister, darling,” Helena offered, putting her hand over Roxie’s to take the phone. Roxie just shook her head, taking a breath to steady herself.

“No, no I need to do it. Will you stay with Liam for me while I’m in the other room?” she whispered. She could barely stand the thought of taking that baby out of her sight now, but she didn’t want his little ears hearing that his father had disappeared. Even if he couldn’t process it.

She dialed your number, feeling a rush of anxiety wash over her. 

“Hey you,” you answered with a smile. “What’s up?” 

“Y/N, something’s happened,” Roxie said, trying to keep the panic from rising further. “Rafael isn’t here.”

“What?” 

“Liam was by himself, he wouldn’t just leave the baby here. He would take Liam or call you. There would be no reason to--“ 

“--Roxie,” you said firmly. “Okay, I get it. Just calm down. Is there any sign of a struggle or anything?” 

“What? What the bloody hell are you talking about? I’m not a detective, Y/N! Where is my husband?!” 

You gave it a moment to let her panic, waiting until she calmed again. “The police are going to look for the same thing. Look, it doesn’t matter now, are you alone?” 

“No, I’m with my mum.” 

“Okay, stay there,” you said, standing up and pulling on a jacket. “I’m calling Nevada to see if he knows anything and I’m coming over. Lock your doors, close all the windows. If someone did come for Rafael, I don’t think they’re coming back but you can’t be too safe.” 

Roxie nodded as if you could see her, wiping a stray tear that had ran down her cheek. “Okay, I’ll lock everything now.”

“It’s gonna be okay,” you assured her as you moved out the door and downstairs to your car. Hollower words had never been spoken. You didn’t know that. You couldn’t assure that and more than anything else you weren’t even sure of it yourself. But she needed that assurance right now. “Rafael is going to be okay. I’m coming now. I’ll call you when I’m there. Don’t open the door for anyone but me or the police.” 

Roxie nodded again. “Okay, okay, please hurry, Y/N,” she begged.

“I’m coming, I promise I’ll be right there.” 

As you ended the call and got into the car, you looked at yourself in the mirror for a split second, you looked scared. You had to pull that look off of your face before you got to Roxie. There was no room for more than one person panicking and none of that would help Rafael.

You dialed your phone again, this time calling your husband. “Come on,” you mumbled, growing more frustrated with each ring. “Come on, Nevada, pick up.” 

---------

Rafael’s temples throbbed as a wet, sticky trickle ran down the side of his face. There was a slow drip coming from his right side and a low rumble beneath him vibrated against his bottom. A tight, sharp grip cut into his wrists and an attempt to move them elicited a hiss from him. His eyes opened to the darkness of a cold, damp room as the pain in his head doubled and he pressed his forehead against the wall next to him. Taking a deep breath, he carefully tilted his head up to find handcuffs around his wrists over a rusted metal pipe. 

He tried to pull his hands free by pulling down on the pipe with no success. His eyes were finally beginning to adjust to the dark and his legs moved in an attempt to stand but he couldn’t establish a firm footing. His muscles sore and screaming, he slumped back against the wall and continued to look around the room for a possible way out.

Where the hell was he?

He remembered Charles standing in his living room, holding his son. The image swarmed his mind and his pulse quickened.

“Liam,” he groaned, looking up at his wrists again and using a newfound strength to pull himself further up against the wall behind him. Straining his ears, he tried to listen for any familiar sounds and it was then that he realized he was gently rocking from side to side. The muted sound of crashing waves confirmed that he was on a boat of some kind. 

His eyes darted around the room, looking for something--anything--he could use to cut himself free. The room had obviously been prepared ahead of time, but he would’ve expected nothing less of Charles Heeley. The man had always been one to account for every detail. Looking along the floor around him, he scoured the filthy surface for something, anything to pick the lock of the cuffs. He hadn’t the slightest idea as to how to pick a lock, but he was determined to try anything.

He didn't care how long it took him, but he had to get free and find a way back to his family.

---------

“Holy shit.” 

The whisper sounded in the otherwise silent lab, where a technician was testing the partial fingerprint and DNA sample found at a crime scene they were convinced had been sanitized. Quickly moving to print out the matches he’d found, he wrenched the pages from the printer and shot up from his chair. File in hand, he raced out of the lab, deciding to take the stairs up to Captain William’s office. In retrospect it wouldn’t have made any difference to take the elevator, but he had been one of the many who doubted they would be able to find anything at the scene, let alone connect it to a suspect. His genuine shock had clouded his rational thought and he ran as quickly as his legs would carry him up the stairs from the basement to the third floor of the old precinct.

Shoving the door to William’s office open, the tech heaved and bent at the waist as he tried to catch his breath, one hand holding the file up.

“Don’t you knock?” Williams asked with furrowed brows at the sweaty technician.

“Sir...w-we found a m-match...for both the partial print...and the DNA.”

Williams’ face fell and he stood, snatching the file away to read the results. Eyes widening, he pointed at the report in his hand as his eyes met with the tech. “You’re sure about this.”

It was more of a statement than a question, this was what Leonard had been waiting for since he’d arrived in the Heights.

The tech nodded, breath still coming in heavy pants. He took a moment to right himself, swallowing as his breath finally began to slow. “Yes sir, there’s no question. The DNA sample belongs to Oscar Diaz Jr and the partial print has a seven point match with Nevada Ramirez.”

Williams dropped the report on his desk and grabbed his jacket before going into the pen and calling out to his lead detective. “Let’s go pick up Ramirez and Diaz.”

“We got them?” 

“Like a mouse in a trap,” Williams answered as he charged out the precinct.

---------

Nevada's phone rang loudly in the office building he'd just entered and he pulled it out to look down at the screen, seeing your name. Dropping the call, he stepped onto the elevator and hit the button for the top floor. He usually always answered when you called, but now all he could think of was getting out to where Natalia was. After what she'd done to Izzy, he couldn't wait to watch the light leave her eyes.

"Mr. Ramirez, it's so good to see you again!" Jasper's secretary said, flashing Nevada a bright smile as soon as he stepped off the elevator.

"Hola mi amor" he answered as he walked to her desk. "He in there?"

"Yes, go on in," she replied.

"Thank you. You look nice today, by the way," Nevada said with a smirk as he walked past her desk, up to Jasper's office.

"Always so sweet," she replied with a smile.

Without knocking, Nevada went into Jasper's office and nodded to the other man.

"Nevada," Jasper said with a smirk, looking up from his laptop. He stood and buttoned up his jacket, extending a hand towards the man in leather to shake.

Nevada shook his hand. "Oye, bro, I don't mean to bust in on you pero I need a huge favor."

"Name it," Jasper replied.

"Need to borrow your boat."

"Going on a trip?" Jasper asked with a smile.

"Not exactly," Nevada answered. "We found Natalia. She's off-shore--" His phone rang again, and he pulled it out to drop your call again before he looked back up at Jasper. "I wanna rearrange that bitch's face and hang her by her intestines."

"That seems like mercy compared to what I'd like to do to her," Jasper answered. "Your sister-in-law is a good girl. I was looking forward to seeing her succeed with her gallery. If there's one thing I can't stand, it's criminals who drag civilians into our business."

"You wanna come with?" Nevada asked as though they were planning a vacation.

Jasper grinned widely. "I thought you’d never ask."

---------

It took nearly two hours of pulling, his muscles screaming in agony as with his teeth clenched and a deep, loud grunt Rafael finally had been able to break the rusted pipe. Compressed air rushed out of the broken metal as Rafael collapsed to the floor. He took a moment to catch his breath, then despite the protest of his legs, he stood up and went to the heavy steel door on the opposite side of the room. Gripping the metal wheel at the center, he grunted as he turned it to the left, opened the door and peeked out into the corridor. This seemed too easy, but upon seeing no one in sight, he slowly stepped out of the room. The real task would be to find a way out and hoping that he was some place familiar. 

Were they docked at Chelsea Piers? Coney Island? 

Choosing to go left, towards a set of metal stairs, his eyes stayed alert for any movement other than his own. A whistle accompanied by footsteps sounded from the stairs and Rafael quickly went into the room to his immediate left, tucking himself behind the door. The whistle was closer, heavy thud of each step keeping a tempo as the man made his way down the corridor. He looked down at his still cuffed wrists and wondered whether the Whistler had a set of keys. Rafael turned his eyes back up, ducking and waiting for the man to walk past the door he was hiding behind before he came out and hooked the man’s neck with his cuffed wrists. Clenching his jaw, he used all his strength to pull the struggling body against his, pressing the chained metal against his neck. 

The man, surely much more rested than he was, rushed backwards and slammed Rafael against the corridor while his hands scratched blindly at his attacker. One hand reached for the gun at his waist, but was having trouble getting it out of it’s holster. Rafael pulled with renewed vigor, squeezing his eyes shut and turning his head to one side. Never in his life did he imagine himself ever killing anyone for any reason, but he was determined to get back to his family no matter what, even if he had to commit murder. The man stomped and slammed him over and over into the corridor, attempting to get free, but Rafael only pulled harder, growling with his efforts. 

The nails against his skin slowed their digs as the life drained out of the man pressed against him. With one last yank, he heard arms go slack and slap against his victim’s sides and Rafael opened his eyes to find the man’s eyes were closed. Rafael let the body fall to the floor and looked to either side of the corridor just as a heavy door groaned in the distance. He heard footsteps approaching and voices of more than one man. 

More were coming and he didn’t have the strength to fight them off. Moving as quickly as his body would allow, he gripped the back of his victim’s shirt and dragged him towards the door he’d been hiding behind. Sweat dripped off his nose as he pulled the dead weight into the dark, empty room and carefully pushed the door shut just as the men turned into the corridor where he’d committed his first felony, and Rafael held his breath as he waited for them to pass his hiding place. 

“It’s fucked up is all I’m saying, how he left the kid all by himself,” he heard one of the men say.

“What the hell would he do with a baby? Good riddance. The little brat’s mom probably got home eventually,” another replied.

Liam. Charles must have left Liam at the condo. Rafael felt a silent sigh pass through his mouth at the news that his son was safe with his mother. Now he just needed to get out of this alive and all would be well again. 

Turning towards the unconscious man, Rafael couldn’t help but check for a pulse. He sighed in relief at the faint flutter beneath his fingertips and began to look through the man’s pockets. Finding a set of keys, he looked for one that looked like the one Liv carried for handcuffs and used it to uncuff his wrists. Rubbing the raw, cut up skin, he looked back down at the man, then down at himself. He was barefoot and his cashmere pants were certainly not made for a situation such as this. Working quickly, he changed into the man’s clothes and shoes, tentatively placing the gun in it’s holster on his belt before he left the room, closing the door behind him. 

He wiped the blood off the side of his face as best he could and made his way down the corridor, looking for an exit.

And that was when he saw it.

A window.

Moving double time, he stepped up to the small, circular glass that offered a view of outside. 

Water...and not just any water. Ocean. Open ocean.

They were out at sea!

---------

OJ whipped his head towards the door of the club at the sound of it bursting open, brows knitted and fists clenched as Williams and seven other detectives walked into the club. He was sick and tired of this new Captain coming into the club whenever it suited him and OJ stood, crossing his arms over his broad chest.

“Something I can help you with, pendejo? Buffet doesn’t open till dinner time,” he sneered with a smug expression.

Williams burst into laughter as he closed in on OJ. "Oscar Diaz Jr," he said, grinning at him. "Where's your boss?"

"Not sure. But I'll tell him you stopped by," OJ answered with a smirk.

"That might be difficult seeing as how you're under arrest," Williams replied, earning a scoff from OJ as the larger man stepped behind him and cuffed his wrists. “You got the right to remain silent and I, for one, wouldn’t be offended if you exercise that right--”

"--You got nothing on us, bro. This is fuckin' harrassment," OJ growled, turning his head to one side to peer at the Captain over his shoulder.

"We’ve got your DNA...bro," Williams replied, turning to his men. "Find Ramirez.”

"Yes, sir," one of the detectives answered as he and the other moved past the Captain and OJ.

Williams turned his head to address his detectives once more. “And put cuffs on every person you find! I don't care who they are, if they're here, they're either an accessory or an accomplice!"

---------

When you arrived at your brother’s apartment, Roxie ran right to you, hugging you tight. You squeezed her back, hand moving to the back of her head to gently cradle her before turning back to where Detective Carisi was standing beside Helena with a notepad.

“Y/N,” he said in a greeting, brows furrowed. You knew how much Sonny adored Rafael so this couldn’t have been easy for him either. 

“Do you know anything?” you whispered desperately as you let go of Roxie.

He shook his head. “Still taking a statement, Roxie said she just came home and Liam was alone. No sign of Barba anywhere in the apartment.” 

“He would never leave our son,” Roxie continued to repeat as if no one was listening to her.

“We know that, Rox,” you assured and laced your hand with hers, giving it a tight squeeze.

“Alright,” Carisi said, looking at Helena and then Roxie. “How long were you gone for, Roxie?” 

“The whole of the day, since this morning. I went out with my mother and then I had to work. Rafael had been with Liam, he needed to go to One Hogan Place to drop off his resignation. He left me a voicemail about half an hour before we got home,” she said, wiping tears again. “He said he and Liam had just gotten back and that he would see us soon.” She couldn't help but laugh a bit. “He wanted to know about my day.” She loved Rafael more than she could ever put into words. The idea of living without him was something she wasn’t prepared to entertain.

“This is all good Roxie,” Sonny said, offering a reassuring smile. “Any detail helps. Did you notice anything outta place when you got home? Anything knocked over? Broken?”

“No, everything was just as it should be except Liam was alone in his crib.” 

“Had there been threats by anyone lately?” Sonny asked.

“No, not that he mentioned.” Roxie shook her head, gripping your hand tighter. “He had just resigned, there were no new cases where he angered someone...no reason for anyone to be cross. Who would want to do this?” 

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” you said softly. 

“Did you call Nevada?” Roxie asked, turning to you and not caring that Sonny was listening. “Did you ask him i-if he knew anything.”

“He’s not picking up, but I’m going to try again okay? Let’s let the police do their jobs.” You couldn't remember the last time you’d said that.

Liam started to fuss in Helena’s arms, screaming until his tiny face started to go red despite his grandmother trying to rock and calm him. 

“Roxie, why don’t you take a seat with Liam, feed him, whatever you need. I’m going to talk to Y/N and your mom,” Sonny offered. “You have all of SVU on your side, Rafael has always been and will always be family and we don’t take this lightly. We’re gonna find him.” 

Roxie nodded wanting to protest but hearing her son cry changed her mind. She took Liam into her arms and holding him tight. “It’s alright, Liam, it’s going to be okay,” she whispered, moving to the bedroom to rock him and feed him.

After Roxie was gone, Sonny turned back to you.

“Listen, off the record, okay? Any threats made on your end? Towards Rafael, I mean,” Sonny asked. 

You shook your head. “I don’t know what’s happening, Rafael hasn’t pissed anyone off recently that I know of. Unless he was hiding something. He might not tell me but he definitely would have told Roxie. If she doesn’t know, then there was nothing.”

Sonny sighed and closed his notepad. “I just had to ask. Alright, Liv’s out with Fin looking for him and Rollins is tracking his cell phone. We’re gonna find him.” He looked up just as the CSU team walked into the apartment. “Mrs. Hume can you show me to Liam’s room so these guys can dust for prints?”

Helena nodded. “Yes, yes of course, anything to help.” 

---------

Nevada checked the safety on his gun while Jasper dropped anchor before the former got into the inflatable life raft on the starboard side. He could see the yacht a mile or so in front of them and from what they could see from their distance, there didn’t appear to be anyone on deck. Jasper handed off a backpack, which Nevada carefully placed at the front of the raft while the Englishman climbed in.

"How many do you reckon are aboard?" Jasper asked as he yanked on the pull string to start the small engine.

"I don't know. Boat that size, it's gotta be at least ten, right?" Nevada answered. 

"Let's assume fifteen," Jasper muttered, steering the raft towards the large yacht.

"She packs a lot of heat, so we gotta be on point," Nevada said. 

"Just keep them off me while I plant the bomb. We'll have five minutes after I activate it to get back," Jasper replied.

Nevada knitted his brows as he took in the vessel they were headed towards. It seemed far more luxurious than anything Natalia would have, especially considering she wasn't nearly as rich as she had been when he'd first met her. In fact there was only one person he knew of that could easily afford a yacht like the one they were approaching.

"Heeley," he said, almost to himself.

"What?"

"Heeley, that motherfucker. That's gotta be how she got out, how she's been able to make moves without drawing any attention," Nevada replied. "We might get two for the price of one."

"So, twenty men aboard," Jasper mumbled as they came up to the stern and pull up next to a small boat that was tied to the yacht. Tying their raft to the larger vessel as well, they crept onboard, Jasper turning to look at Nevada. "Ten minutes, meet back here."

Nevada nodded, and the two split up, Jasper to plant his explosives in the engine room and Nevada to find Natalia. Stalking along the port side of the yacht, Nevada made his way towards the bow, gun at the ready. A movement from his left had him raising his weapon and firing off a shot, clipping the body coming out onto the deck before he took cover behind a corner as the person shot back and shouted for backup. 

Moving quickly, he fired off another round just as two more men appeared. He shot one in the throat before ducking into a cabin wall just as the second fired round after round in his direction. Waiting for the sound of empty chambers, Nevada held his position until the telltale click. He came out of his cover to shoot again, hitting the man in the chest as he stalked once more towards the bow. He knew with all the gunfire that it would only be a matter of time before more men came, but he had one purpose in that moment.

"Where are you, you fuckin' cunt?" he growled under his breath.

---------

Roxie sat down at the precinct with her son, rocking him back and forth with her arms as she tried to calm him. She had a feeling he could tell something was off. He was crying for nothing. Not for food, not to be changed, nothing. He was just crying. 

“I’m here,” she whispered. “Daddy will be home soon, alright?” 

The waiting so far had been the worst part, not knowing what had happened, wondering if he was alive or dead in a ditch somewhere. 

“As soon as Daddy is back, I’m going to take a week off and we can stay home and spend time together, alright? Just us three.” 

The baby calmed after another moment of rocking as she bounced him gently in her arms. 

“There we go,” she cooed. “All better. You don’t have to worry, Liam. Mummy is here for you. No matter what. She’s here. And daddy will be too.” 

She wasn’t lying, Rafael would be here. She knew he would. He had to be. 

“Roxie,” Olivia called as she moved out of her office and took her usual confident strides over to the British woman, pulling her into a hug. “How are you and Liam holding up?” 

Roxie hugged back. “We’re managing, please tell me you have something.” 

“Fin and I couldn’t find anything on our canvas, but Rollins traced his cell phone,” Olivia began. 

“Oh thank god, and you found him?” She jumped to conclusions too soon, desperate for any hope she could cling to.

“No, it led to a warehouse. I sent Rollins and Carisi there but it was a dead end. All they found were his wallet and phone,” Olivia said regretfully. “But that’s not gonna stop us, we’re going to find him. I have CSU combing every inch of that warehouse, if there’s any prints or anything to tell us more about who was there with him, they’ll find it.”

Roxie offered a bit of a smile. “I know you will,” she mumbled and looked down at her baby then over to where you were talking with another officer.

She watched your phone ring as you looked down at it and walked out of the room. She felt a glimmer of hope, perhaps it was Nevada calling about Rafael. It had to be.

You answered once you were a safe distance away from law enforcement, frowning down at the caller ID. It wasn’t your husband like you’d hoped, it was Sawyer.

“Sawyer?” you answered. Sawyer never called you, there was no reason to. If she was calling there had to have been something wrong. “Are you with Nevada? I can’t get a hold of him.” 

“No I’m not. I’m calling because Captain Williams came to the club,” she said in a panic before her voice lowered to a harsh whisper. “Dama, he’s looking for Nevada.”

“What?” You frowned. “Why?” 

“He’s wanting to arrest him,” she said. “He came to the club and arrested everyone, Dama. Everyone. Me, Chibby, OJ, the dancers...even the guy who refills the vending machine in the break room. I don’t know what he has on us but it’s bad. It’s really, really bad.” 

“Oh my god. Okay, has someone called Rita yet?”

“I think so, yes. They gave me one phone call and I used it to get in touch with you. I needed to warn you. If you see Nevada, tell him to stay away,” she pleaded. 

"Alright, time's up," you heard from behind her and your heart sank. Sawyer wasn’t made for prison, neither was Chibby. You felt sick to your stomach for more than one reason.

“Thank you, Sawyer, thank you,” you whispered, hanging up and trying your husband again. “Come on, come on, Nevada, dammit!”

---------

Rafael made his way to the deck of the yacht, looking around frantically for a way off the boat. There had to be a life raft somewhere, he just had to find it. Turning towards the stern, he began to look for the raft. He had heard shots from somewhere on the deck and knew he didn't have very much time before someone inevitably spotted him. With any luck it was Olivia or Carisi coming to find him.

He could just jump into the water, but with no land in sight there was no telling what might happen if he did. Then he saw it, far into the distance but there nonetheless, another boat. If he could just get to the stern without incident, he could swim to it and hope that whoever was onboard would take him to shore. Keeping low and close to the cabin wall, he made his way towards the stern. 

A figure that walked with a purpose stomped in his direction and Rafael gasped, ducking behind a wall, hand quickly reaching for the gun at his side. He looked down at the weapon to take the safety off and waited with baited breath until the footsteps came closer. As he rounded the corner and raised the gun, he was met with a familiar face.

"Nevada?!" 

His brother-in-law stopped dead in his tracks, eyes widened as he stared back. "What the fuck are you doing here, Rafa?" Nevada demanded, lowering his gun.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" Rafael repeated. 

Nevada ignored the question. "Where's Natalia?"

"What?!" Rafael shook his head.

“Natalia, I know she’s here. Where the fuck is she?” 

"I don’t know, I didn’t see her. Look, it doesn't matter, let's just get outta here. Heeley is somewhere on this boat and he wants me dead."

"I want that bitch--"

"--Nevada! My son needs his father, my wife needs her husband and my sister needs hers, too. Let's go!" Rafael answered, engage the safety once again on his gun and grabbing a fistful of his brother-in-law's jacket. He pulled him towards the stern, eyes continuing to scan their path for hostiles.

Nevada clenched his jaw. His vengeance would obviously have to wait until Rafael was safely off the yacht. There wasn’t enough time to get to Natalia and save Rafael. Turning his eyes to his brother-in-law, he shook his head idly. "How the hell did you get here?"

"Heeley kidnapped me out of my apartment," Rafael answered, leg muscles burning from his pace. “I don’t remember much, he must’ve knocked me out somehow.

"It was a challenge, for certain." The sound of Heeley's voice came from behind them and the two men whipped around to face the blonde villain, who was pointing a gun at them. "Now exactly where do you think you're going, Rafael? We haven’t even had a chance to talk."

[soocouldbemyonlystar]

Chaebols: Music Man Pt 1

Genre: Chaebols AU/ fluff/ future smut

Length:4.7k

cover edited by @lalahs85

He hid in the darkness, just beyond the reach of the neon signs and flickering street lamps. They extended out like fingers of light threatening to pull him into view. It wanted to give him away, present him to the two bull-sized henchmen that inched down the street. The men scanned the area for him and Park Chanyeol felt his impatience would reveal him.

How they had managed to follow him this far was beyond him. Chanyeol had spent the better part of his fife evading his father’s men, whether it was escaping to play as a child or sneaking out as a rebellious teen to hang out with his best friends. He’d kept them from finding Minseok’s house where he had been staying, but they seemed to have caught his scent in this tiny part of town.

Chanyeol peeked out from the hood of his sweater, following the men with his eyes until they were out of sight. Cautiously, he slipped into the little dive bar. The only reason he came to this area. He had discovered the Blue Lounge when he was looking for a place to bring the guys to celebrate Kyungsoo’s engagement and up-coming wedding. But he liked the atmosphere and it quickly became an escape for him.

Shedding his jacket and hoodie, Chanyeol found his usual table was empty and took his seat. It was his favorite spot, far enough from the stage that his ears wouldn’t ring badly, and just to the side so patrons standing wouldn’t block his view of the band.

Those damn hound dogs his dad had sent after him caused Chanyeol to be late. It was surprising his table was empty. The nights entertainment should be on soon and the bar tended to get crowded on nights when there was live music.

The little server came quickly to take his order, “You look like you need something a bit stronger than a beer. Scotch tonight?”

“Yeah,” he agreed, his eyes stared straight ahead into a void. Chanyeol had come here enough, sat in her section enough times that she was aware of his moods and drinking habits. He didn’t know her name, but he knew she would take care of him.

The bad moods had been more frequent these days. He had come clean to his father about his desire to produce music for their entertainment company and not to run the entire business. Chanyeol knew his father would be angry, but business and politics were of no interest to him. There was a blow out, hurtful words exchanged, and Chanyeol had left his parents place. He’d been staying at Minseok’s house for over a month now.

It was no surprise his father had men looking for him now. With a tail on him any time he was spotted in public it was a wonder he managed to keep Minseok’s house and this bar under his father’s radar. Tonight, his problems weighed heavy on him and Chanyeol hadn’t been as diligent about losing his tail. He only hoped the men wouldn’t make the connection.    

A hint of light broke through the darkness in Chanyeol’s mind. A melody that was beautiful, but a bit sad at the same time. The voice accompanying it had Chanyeol raising his eyes from the second glass of scotch he hadn’t realized the server had brought to find her on stage behind a keyboard.

It was the reason he loved this bar, they had live music almost every night. Of all the times he’s been here, he had never seen her on stage. Chanyeol was transfixed. Her voice was clear with a bit of an old-timey sound to it. There was a fire there that Chanyeol thought was better than the scotch. Her fingers slid over the keys, expertly creating a sound that was unlike he had heard out right now.

He blinked away his surprise, and pulled out his phone, setting it up to take a video. She played another five songs, two covers of popular songs that made most of the other bar-goers stand and clap to the beat and three other originals that had Chanyeol sitting on the edge of his seat, chomping at the bit. This is what he needed. This girl, her music, her sound. He could do something with that. He could make something incredible with her.

As she introduced the band, who had finally decided to show up, Chanyeol decided. He would do whatever necessary for this woman to work with him. He pulled out his wallet and found the business card his father had tried to bribe him with, the one that read Park Chanyeol, Producer, and moved to the bar to find a pen. For the first time in a month, Chanyeol felt his smile grow past the façade.

                                                       ***

 “Yeon-hee, please. The band is going to be late. Just for a little while, just till they get here.” Ji Daewon begged hands folded together in front of him.

“I don’t know, oppa. You know I haven’t played my songs in front of a crowd in a long time.” Kim Yeon-hee shook her head. She moved around him to fill her drink orders.

“I know. Please, Yeon-hee, save me just this once.” Daewon swiveled back around to step in her way again, shaking his folded hands vigorously in her face, “Just thirty minutes. They said they are thirty minutes out.”

Yeon-hee sighed, noticing a customer walk in, one her usual. “I have a customer, give me a minute to think about it.”

She took her tray of drinks out, a beer for glasses guy, soju for weird nose guy, a fruity thing to the flirty girl that annoyed the crap out of her, then she made her way to the music man. He had been a regular for a few months now, first coming with a group of friends for a bachelor party type celebration. She called him the music man because he continued to return, typically on the days they had live music, and sat alone, watching the show.

At first, he was lively and loud, easily making friends in the bar but after a few weeks he had become quiet. He seemed lost in his thoughts most of the time, and she had a feeling this was not his usual personality. She didn’t peg him for bipolar, he just had a lot on his mind. Music man didn’t look like he was happy.

She approached cautiously, “You look like you need something a little stronger than your usual beer. Scotch this round?”  

“Yeah,” he replied without even looking up at her.

Yep, he was having another bad night. It was a shame that his bright eyes were darkened by whatever issue had been plaguing him. He would perk up some when the music started. Only that wouldn’t be for another thirty minutes or so. He should be okay until then.

Yeon-hee grabbed his drink quickly, setting it down on her way to clean up a table in the back. She didn’t want to admit it, but she missed the kind smile the music man flashed around the place when he first came. His laugh was infectious and there wasn’t anyone who he wasn’t instantly friends with. Seeing him go from that to the silent, solemn man who sat there now, was dis-heartening.

She peered over her shoulder where he sat. Music man looked even more warry than normal. He stared into the distance, swirling the already half drank snifter on the table. She couldn’t stand it. Why his mood mattered was something Yeon-hee couldn’t explain, but if it was music he needed to cheer up, she would get it to him. She took her tray back to the kitchen, passing Daewon on the way.

“I’ll do it.” She told him before she grabbed the music man another scotch. Yeon-hee laughed at the scream of excitement Daewon barked, dropped the scotch off to the music man and made her way to the stage. The house instruments were already set up, and Yeon-hee ran a few practice bars to warm up her fingers and voice, then addressed the crowd.

“The Blue Lounge would like to welcome everyone here tonight.” She began. “Mercury is running just a little late. So, it will be my pleasure to entertain you until they arrive. I’m a little rusty, you guys, so take it easy on me. This first one is called Sing to Me.”        

Just how she had practiced a million times in this very spot, before the bar opened, she let her fingers lazily play over the keys. The song was slow, and sad, one that she had written when she left her parents in the states and moved to meet her mother’s family in South Korea. Her parents didn’t understand that she didn’t feel like herself there, with an American father and a Korean mother, she didn’t feel like she fit. Amanda Thompson, her American name, wasn’t real to her. Her mother’s family had been accepting, so she took her Korean name and her mother’s family name, Kim Yeon-hee, and left her old self behind. At that time, she had just wanted someone who understood her.

“Sing to me again.

Sing the words I cannot

understand, but your meaning

is too clear. Your warm

bourbon sound vibrates deep

into my black-hole heart, it

pulls the ragged breath

from my chest and I am

free again.”

Yeon-hee was in her element. She loved the stage and singing, making music all together. She loved her voice, raw but still even, and a little more sensual than she usually meant to be, but it mixed well with the type of music she made. Yeon-hee felt like she could finally speak when she was playing her music and singing her own songs. She was free, able to be who and what she was, not having to fit into the tidy molds society deemed were appropriate. When she performed she was a sun, burning hot, and lighting up.

Yeon-hee glanced up at the music man, curiosity becoming too much for her. She almost forgot the lyrics as she saw him. Yeon-hee had meant to cheer him up a little, but the look on his face was something more akin to fascination. He stared at her, intently, his eyes wide, and a ridiculously large smile on his face. They seemed to sparkle.

  Yeon-hee thought for a moment that it was what pure excitement looked like. She quickly shook that thought out of her head. Though she was proud of her music, she doubted it would cause him to grin like a child at Disney World. But still, the way he watched her was unnerving. A chill ran down her spine. She wasn’t scared, he didn’t give off that vibe, but she had a sinking feeling that she’d just gotten in over her head. That smile meant trouble for her.

The next song she played was a cover of a song that was popular at the moment. It was fast-paced and she was pleasantly pleased when people started to stand and dance. The last song was another original. A ballad, not a slow as the first song, but with a deeper meaning than the second. In all, she ended up playing six songs, and the music man never took his eyes off her. Finally, she saw the sign from Daewon that the band had arrived.

“Thank you,” Yeon-hee laughed as they applauded, “but your real entertainment is here. Give it up for Mercury!”

She clapped as she welcomed the band on stage and then returned behind the bar. She glanced back at the music man one last time, but his table was empty. Yeon-hee pouted, and she was very uncomfortable with the amount of disappointment she felt at his disappearance. As she rounded the corner of the bar a hand wrapped around her wrist. She tried jerked away, anyone who was a regular knew Yeon-hee didn’t put up with being grabbed, but there were still the newbies who didn’t know better. She had to put them in their place every once and a while, but before she could put the hurt on him, Yeon-hee recognized those eyes.

The music man lifted the corner of his lips in a crooked smile, as if he was waiting for her to attack him. She held her captured wrist in between them, her eyes narrowed, her skin burning where he touched her.

“I know you know better than to grab me.” She reminded him, referring to when he witnessed what happened to the last man who grabbed her a few weeks ago. The man had tried to press charges for assault against her, but the police laughed it off.

His smile widened as he gently released her wrist, “I know, but I need a pen.”

Yeon-hee eyed him suspiciously but took the few steps to the register and grabbed her pen, slapping it down on the bar in front of him. She didn’t know how it was possible, but his smile widened even more. With a roll of her eyes, she walked away to find Daewon.

That was a mistake.

“I need another favor.” Daewon told her. This time there were no whistles and bells, no complements. Yeon-hee knew that even though he said favor, she would have no choice in the matter. “I just got a call, I need to leave, and I don’t think I’ll be back before close. I need you to stay and manage the bar while I’m gone and close up.”

“Oppa,” she whined, “I’ve closed every day this week, you promised I could get off early tonight.”

“I know, but I need your help, cousin.” He shrugged, “I’ll give you an extra day off next week for it. Don’t forget the guy is bringing the cases of that new beer for us to try, I’ll have Kim Sunghyun come to bounce if you need him.”

Yeon-hee sighed. “Yeh,” she knew there was no point in arguing. He was dirty for pulling the cousin card.

The worst part about being on stage for Yeon-hee was stepping off it. All her other duties seemed so mundane compare to the rush of the stage. Even a small venue like The Blue Lounge didn’t lessen the exhilaration she experienced while playing her music. Her mother had been a piano prodigy studying in New York when she met Yeon-hee’s father, music was in her blood. She didn’t need to be a big star, if she could continue writing and singing, she was content.

Yeon-hee split her section between Kang Chun-ja and Jin Eun-hye and stayed behind the bar. The music man ordered a water instead of another scotch, and sat quietly at the end of the bar, seemingly disinterested in the band playing. Seemingly watching every move she made. For hours. She wanted to be annoyed, normally she would be, but the distant, sad look he had entered the bar with was long gone.

The guy with the cases of beer came at mid-night. A little late to be dropping off cases of beer, but it was the deal Daewon had made with the brewer and Yeon-hee wasn’t going to question. She motioned to Sunghyun to keep his attention up, pulled Chun-ja to the bar and started to the door that lead to the back of the bar. The music man was the last customer before the door, and his eyes were still on her.

Suddenly she had a bright idea. Sunghyun couldn’t leave the girls in the bar to unload, but that didn’t mean she had to do it on her own. And she could find out why the man kept staring at her. Yeon-hee stopped at the end of the bar and leaned over to speak to her stalker.

“Music man, you look like you have something to say to me.” She yelled over the music.

“Possibly,” he leaned into her to so that she could hear him better.

“Then follow me.” She shrugged and walked through the door to the storage area.

She wasn’t sure he would at first, the back of the bar was quieter having the barrier from the loud band and she didn’t hear him follow, but after a minute the tall man pushed his way through the door. He strode up, hands in his pockets and stood before her, eyes wide, blinking innocently, his lips pressed into a thin line.

“Normally, I bounce men who sit at the bar and stare at me like a creep for two hours, but I’m feeling generous tonight. I’m going to let you pay for it in physical labor. You can unload these crates of beer for me, and I’ll give you five minutes to say what you want. Or, I can have Sunghyun kick you out. It’s up to you.” She explained simply.

He laughed, blushing, as he rubbed the palm of his hand into his eye. “If you’re so worried about me staring at you, why would you bring me back here? Wouldn’t you be worried I could attack you?”

It was her turn to laugh, “I’m from New York, I know how to defend myself. Also, Sunghyun will be back here in five minutes to check on me. So, you don’t have much time to try something. No, the way I see it, you have something to do with the music industry. You come here on days we have music, stay for the show and leave. I’ve been serving you here for almost three months and you haven’t given me a second look until you saw me on stage. It’s the music. And if I’m going to have to listen to a pitch, or an offer, I might as well get something accomplished while I’m at it.”  

He shrugged, “Fair enough, show the way.”

And he did help. The man carried nine of the twelve crates of beer and placed them where she needed. He even crowbarred open the crate for her so she could guarantee the product. He was quick and efficient and didn’t make mention of anything while he was working. And watching him carry the crates was an added bonus. Yeon-hee congratulated herself on such a stellar idea. He didn’t even realize Sunghyun never showed up.

When the delivery man was paid and gone, she turned to him. “Your five minutes starts now.”

“Did you write those songs?” He asked.

“You’re going to waste your five minutes asking questions?”

“It’s important.” He urged.

“Yes, I wrote them. And before you ask, no I don’t want a record deal, I like getting to write and play my own music without a company telling me what I can and can’t do.” It was her worst nightmare, being censored, not being able to really say what was in her heart.

The man ignored her, “That minor chord change in Sing to Me, on the third verse, was…” he closed his eyes as if to remember, “genius. There was so much raw emotion.”

Well that was not what she expected. “Yeah, thanks.”

“You’re really good. I’m not a label exec. I don’t have a record deal for you, but I’m a producer, and I would really like to work with you. I think we could write some amazing songs together.”  

Was this guy for real? Yeon-hee stared at him as if he were a ghost. What was she supposed to say to that?

“Look, I’m legit,” he handed her a card, “it’s not a trick, I really loved what I heard earlier, and I think we could do something great together.”

She accepted the card and looked down at it in a daze. PCY Entertainment, Park Chanyeol, Producer. She had heard of PCY Entertainment before, it was one of the biggest entertainment companies in the world. No way this guy worked for them.

“How do I know this is real and you didn’t just have a bunch of whack cards made up?” She questioned.

He sighed and pulled his wallet out of his back pocket, producing a driver’s license with his photo and the name Park Chanyeol.

“Look, it will just take you a second to look me up on Naver, you can find all the information you want.”  

“Park Chanyeol. You are a producer for PCY Entertainment?” Yeon-hee was skeptical.

“Yeah, kind of.”

She mulled over the card a little longer. “I don’t know. I’ll have to think about it. My music is my own, I don’t really work with other people or collaborate. And I’m not all together sure I trust you.”

“I understand. But if you do decide to work with me, I wrote my personal number on the back of the card. It will be easier to get in contact with me that way.” He told her.

“Um, okay?”

She agreed to that, IF she decided to call him. “I need to get back to the bar and your five minutes are up.”

He nodded and followed her back inside the building. But as she opened the door to the bar area Chanyeol cursed.

“Shit,” he huffed, grabbing her by the arm and pulling her back into the storage area again, pressing her up against the wall beside the door with his large body. He held he there, leaning to the side and peeking through a tiny slit he created with the door.

“What is it?” She tried to move to see, and her held her steady, but as she struggled against him, he shoved away from her as if she’d burned him. He turned in circles, looking around the room in a frenzy.

Yeon-hee glanced out of the door. Chun-ja leaned over the bar, speaking to two rather large, ominous looking men. Chun-ja shook her head at them and pointed to the door Yeon-hee was currently standing behind, then started back towards her.

The look on Chanyeol’s face when she turned back to him, had her shook. He looked scared. He ran his hands through his hair as his eyes darted around as if to look for a way to escape. Yeon-hee chest constricted. This man was going to be the end of her. She didn’t know what the problem was, but this terrified child act was cutting right through her.

Yeon-hee grabbed Chanyeol by the shirt and yanked him forward, pulling him away from the center of the aisle and shoved him behind the door. She landed hard against his chest. Chanyeol held her steady. Yeon-hee looked up, their faces inches apart. At this distance, Yeon-hee decided his eyes were shaped like diamonds. How had she never noticed how truly handsome he was.

‘Because, you are seeing someone and this man is a stranger, you doof.’ She thought to herself.    

“Eonni,” Chun-ja called.

Yeon-hee blinked coming to her sense. She pushed herself away from Chanyeol’s chest, grabbing the clipboard from the wall next to his head and coming around the door to see Chun-ja.

“What’s up?” She could barely control the sound of her voice.

“There are two men here that want to speak with you.” Chun-ja sighed as if the ten steps and two breaths it took to give her the message was such an inconvenience.

“Tell them I’ll be out in a few minutes. I need to finish up back here.”

Chun-ja clicked her tongue and rolled her eyes before she released the door and walked out. As the door closed, Chanyeol stepped forward, smoothing the wrinkles in his shirt.

“Thanks for that.” He chewed the side of him bottom lip as he finally looked at her.

“What trouble have you brought here?” Yeon-hee demanded.

Chanyeol shook his head with a sigh, “No trouble. They’re not going to hurt anyone. They just want to take me somewhere I’m not ready to go yet. But, it’s probably better that you tell them you don’t know me, and I’ve never been here.”

Yeon-hee crossed her arms. He wasn’t being forthcoming with the information, and she didn’t trust him in the least, but there was something about him that Yeon-hee recognized. She felt protective. He reminded her of Amanda Thompson, the girl who was misunderstood and didn’t fit in anywhere, the girl who fled from her home to another country to find herself. She had, but he hadn’t. He was still searching, and Yeon-hee felt that pull, like she needed to help him.

She thought for a minute, that it would be better for her to tell the men he was here. They would take him, and he probably wouldn’t return. But the thought of that made her physically ill.

“Go out the back, through the ally. I’ll keep them occupied long enough for you to get away.” She pointed to the back door. “You will have to come back for your jacket and hat later.”

“Talented and kind.” The corner of his lips turned up in a smirk that made Yeon-hee’s heart flutter. “You really are something else.”

She nodded her head to the door, “Go.”

“Wait, what’s your name?”

“Yeon-hee,” she said reluctantly.

“Thank you, Yeon-hee.” he whispered as he backed away and slipped out of the back door.

Hell, she was saving everyone tonight!

Yeon-hee turned stepped back into the bar, walking to the two hulking men who waited at the far side. The band was done and disassembling their equipment, making the lounge deathly quiet, and Yeon-hee felt as if she were walking to the firing squad. She quickly shook away the feeling, but the look on the two men was not a friendly one.

“How can I help you gentlemen?” She asked.

The larger man on her right, who she decided was Big Boy, held up a picture of the Music Man.

No, Park Chanyeol, she knew his name now.

“Have you seen this man in here before?” He asked, “None of your staff seems to remember, but the girl at the bar said she may have seen you go to the back with him earlier.”

Damn Chun-ja, the girl needed her jaw wired shut.

Yeon-hee peered at the picture studying it hard, as if she had never seen the face before.

“I went to the back with a distributor earlier, but it wasn’t that man. I can’t say I’ve seen him here and I would know, I’m usually here every night.” She lied, but she couldn’t say she was all that convincing.

The smaller man on the left scoffed. “Are you sure, take another...”

Big boy cut him off, “Do you own this place?”

“No, it’s my cousins bar, but I’m in charge right now, what does that have to do with anything?”

“It’s just a question. Are you sure you don’t recognize this man?” He asked holding up the picture again.

“I think I would remember that face. But you have me curious. Why are you looking for him?” She spat, trying to find any way to stall them.

The little one blurted, “Don’t you know who this is?”

And at that point, Yeon-hee named him Dumber, he obviously wasn’t the bright one of the two.

“No, who is he?”

Big Boy elbowed Dumber in the side before he could reply.

“Let’s just say, his parents are very important people. They just want their wayward son to come home. If he ever comes around, give us a call.” Big Boy handed her a card with a hand-written number scrawled across it.

“I’ll be sure to do that.” She smiled as they turned and walked away. She hoped that was enough time for Chanyeol to escape.

It seemed to be a sickness for her. The need to save people. People who were important to her and people who reminded her of herself before she moved here. She wasn’t the same person who left the states searching for somewhere to belong, but she was still as big a mess as she ever was. And she had a sneaking suspicion that Park Chanyeol would turn what little stability she had into chaos.

Yeon-hee walked back behind the bar to retrieve the check for the band and tossed the card in the trash can on the way. She definitely wouldn’t be calling that number, and after the having to deal with those men for him, she probably wouldn’t be calling Chanyeol either.

Probably.

Authors note: Sing to Me is an original poem written in my advance poetry workshop and is actually inspired by Do Kyungsoo. If you want to read the entire poem just let me know and I will post it. 

[mittensmorgul]

Wayward: Supernatural in Parallels (and a parallel universe as well)

aka I have spent the last four hours typing again, so here you go. :P

(at least I managed to keep it under 6k words this time!)

(shut up that’s kinda brief for me... now if only I could write 6k of fic in 4 hours I’d really be on to something...)

Wayward Sisters set itself up admirably as a spinoff, if for no other reason than it’s so deeply rooted in the original series without actually being that series. We already know all six of the main characters (some of them for nearly a decade, like Claire and Jody), and we know at least a little bit about about how they came to be where they are at the start of 13.10. But even more than that, this episode served so many parallels to the entirety of Supernatural’s past canon, but did so in ways that take all of those themes and wove something entirely new out of them.

All the seeds for the spinoff grew from the original, but they’ve been sown in a new field.

I needed to record as many of these as possible for future reference.

(under a cut because as I said, it’s like 5900 words deep and it’s 2:23 am and I am so not up to editing this tonight.)

The little girl Claire saves from the two werewolves in the cold open looked so familiar to me-- because she reminded me of the ghost girl in 2.11 Playthings. Not technically a parallel, but even from the promo clip with her in it my brain insisted that I’d seen her somewhere before.

Mr. Werewolf and his terrible knock knock joke was such a dark mirror to Kate the werewolf in 8.04. If she was the noble version, he’s the grotesque, right down to the way he uses almost the exact same movements to terrify an innocent as Kate used to get revenge on the guy who’d turned her against her will and murdered her boyfriend. The Winchesters rightly let Kate go (TWICE!) but Claire rightly kills this jerk.

Not to mention Claire’s very personal history with werewolves (and being one bite of a heart away from becoming one herself) in 12.16. This case, and rescuing a little curly-haired blonde girl from werewolves is a tidy metaphor for how Claire has developed as a hunter since we’ve seen her last. And she absolutely PROVES that she’s learned. She doesn’t hunt dumb like she did back in 11.12. She does her homework, and knew exactly what she was doing when she approached Mr. Werewolf’s lair. She knew exactly who she was there to save, how to approach the werewolf lair most effectively (DELIVERY! LAND SHARK!), and she kept her cool throughout the entire fight-- for the sake of the little girl.

This entire fight is also reminiscent of 11.17, just for the fact that she’s physically proving herself as capable as Sam and Dean are in a werewolf fight.

Her rescue of Amanda Fitzmartin from werewolves was a direct parallel of 12.06, and Mary Winchester’s rescue of Asa Fox from… you guessed it, a werewolf! Right down to the mother/child reunion scene on the front porch. I can only imagine that Amanda Fitzmartin may be a future generation hunter now, too… Then again, Asa took up hunting because Mary told him she was “retiring,” and he felt obligated to fill her shoes so that someone would be out there saving people. Claire told Amanda that everything would be okay, and then went right on hunting. Claire’s in a very different place than Mary was, despite the similarities.

Jody’s call to Claire-- “It’s Sam and Dean. They’re missing. They were on a hunting trip, and I haven’t heard from them for a few days.” Well, isn’t that just THE iconic line of the entire series? 1.01, top of the script, hello Dean Winchester. Not to mention 12.20 and how Alicia used the same line about her mother to get Sam and Dean’s help in finding her.

What’s DIFFERENT in Jody’s plea to Claire is, “It’s time to come home.” Home has always been such a nebulous concept for the Winchesters. For the longest time, the only home they knew was Baby. Their “apple pie life” was a pipe dream that they wavered on ever really believing they could have it, or if they even really wanted it the few times it seemed like it could be within their reach (Dean with Lisa after s5, Sam with Jess pre-series, Sam with Amelia after s7). It took a while, but they both now identify the Bunker as “home,” despite it not being a home in the traditional sense. And after Dean’s words to Cas in 13.06-- “Welcome home” as he hugged him at some alley payphone-- I believe their concept of “home” is more “the people we care about” rather than a fixed physical point on a map, you know? And after watching Wayward, and oopsie here jumping to the end for just a second, Claire says, “I'm staying because I need them, my family.” In both series, home is where the heart is, if you will.

Of all the hunters Alex could’ve mentioned that she’d tried calling while looking for Sam and Dean, she mentions Donna (who we’ll see in a bit here), and WALT. Aka one of the guys who killed Sam and Dean way back in 5.16, and who returned in 12.22 to help take down the BMoL.

Claire and Alex’s gentle teasing of each other is just… so dang sisterly. In the same way that Sam and Dean’s teasing of each other is just so dang brotherly, you know? “Did you miss me?” “No, not really.” Lines delivered deadpan followed up with the knowing little smiles.

Claire pointing to her cut lip and telling Jody, “It’s just a werewolf, no big deal.” Well, isn’t that exactly what Dean told Sonny in 9.07 when Sonny questioned him on how his wrists were injured? And heck, how many times has Dean diminished the seriousness of an injury with an “I’m fine” or a “no big deal.” To the point where in 12.23 when he meets up with Cas again, Cas doesn’t even bother asking if he’s okay, just rolls his eyes and heals Dean with a lil boop.

“When did we become huggers?” Well, Sam, Dean, and Cas seem to ask this of themselves every time they find themselves hugging… at least they used to. They’ve since become acclimated to the fact that yes, they are huggers.

Claire’s discovered that Jody let patience move into her room, borrow her sweatshirt, while she was away. But she takes the blame for leaving on herself. This calls back to a lot of the emotional baggage between Sam and Dean over the years in a far less toxic fashion (You chose a demon over your own brother? You didn’t look for me in Purgatory? Who are you gonna replace me with next? There’s a lot of that between the brothers.) But Claire lets it go. And they have Business to attend to…

Alex tends Claire’s wounds during their meeting to share what they’ve gathered so far about Sam and Dean’s disappearance, and then Alex gets up to leave for work. She has a job-- a real, regular job as a nurse (how respectable! In Dean’s words from 2.20). Claire is upset, because finding Sam and Dean should come first, but Alex doesn’t even argue about it. The entire dynamic is similar to Sam and Dean’s motivations in 1.01. Sam had a law school interview that he didn’t want to miss (which Dean initially assumed was a job interview), and described as his whole future on a plate. But Dean insisted they already had “the family business.” Just as Claire insisted her own job is hunting. Unlike Sam and Dean, Alex and Claire work this out in their own way, and Alex DOES go off to work. Her job is just as important as hunting to her, and she doesn’t compromise on that.

Patience’s visions in this context are so reminiscent of Sam’s visions back in the early days. She’s still trying to figure out exactly how they work, and exactly what they mean. And in a lot of ways what Clare seems to be feeling is a reflection of Dean in 2.05 when Andy mind-controls him into telling the truth, “He's psychic. Kind of like you. Well, not really like you, but see, he thinks you're a murderer, and he's afraid that he's going to become one himself, 'cause you're all part of something that's terrible. And, I hope to hell that he's wrong, but I'm starting to get a little scared that he might be right.”

It’s not an exact parallel, but the same sort of disbelief and maybe even a little bit (or a lot) of fear over what those visions might mean. And Claire addresses this later in this episode when she’s talking to Kaia while Jody and Donna are investigating the ship. So I’ll get back to that later… I’m finding it’s really difficult to take this scene by scene…

Claire’s difficulty with Jody “smothering” her while hunting reminds me A LOT of both Dean’s difficulty with John (when Dean first began to break away from blind obedience to John’s every order toward the end of s1), as well as Sam’s difficulty with Dean. How many times has Sam pulled the “I’m not a little kid anymore, I can do this” card on Dean? Exactly. This growth process hurts, and it’s terrifying, but it’s a give and take on both sides, and Claire and Jody both grow a lot by it. Because it’s not just Claire wanting to prove she’s capable, it’s also Jody’s abject fear of losing ANOTHER CHILD to the Supernatural. She would give anything not to have to relive what she went through with her son in 5.15. And Claire does begin to understand Jody’s point of view, as Jody begins to understand Claire’s. And after Dean admitted to Mary in 12.22 that he’s been both mother and father to Sam most of his life, this exact same dynamic can be applied to his over-protectiveness of Sam. There’s a balance to be found between Claire’s “run in head first” and Jody’s “find the perfect plan.”

Speaking of balance, Alex seems to have found a balance that works for her. It’s been a long time since 9.19 when Jody gave her a foundation to build a new life on, and as Jody said in 10.08 and we saw first-hand in 11.12, it wasn’t always easy. But Alex found a career that makes her happy, and in return she’s happy to help Jody with whatever she needs, be it housekeeping or monsters. She seems… settled. And she confirms to Claire that Jody (and by extension Alex herself) never stopped worrying (or thinking) about Claire even when she wasn’t around. It was a solid confirmation to Claire that yes, she’s still part of their family, regardless. And wow, how many times has this sentiment been expressed in Supernatural? Too many to count.

And Claire and Alex get their emotional baggage handled and properly stowed, and it’s right back to the Big Issue at hand. Where we discover that despite all their differences, they’re both on exactly the same page. Claire suggests searching the hospital database for “rock star aliases” in case Sam and Dean have been injured, and Alex confirms she already searched for practically every rock musician she could think of, “From metal gods to obscure hair bands.” And of course “obscure hair bands” makes me think of poor old Vince Vincente and Ladyheart back in s12. Their third album wasn’t terrible… :P

Incredibly enough, a new search for Jane Doe leads Claire to find Kaia in that very hospital (and heck, is it Sioux Falls General? Aka where Dr. Monsterface worked back in 7.02?) Claire finds Kaia and confronts her about Sam and Dean, and instead of needing to be broken out of “child prison” (10.09 for Claire) or rehab (13.09 for Kaia), they both walk out of the hospital. Except oops… there’s some Bad Things waiting for Kaia outside. She freezes in fear and Claire comes to the rescue… but Jody also came to the rescue, and only working together did they kill the Bad Thing.

Warning that here the Destiel Parallels become impossible to ignore or avoid. They’re just blatantly there, so freaking deal with it.

In the hospital, the first time Claire and Kaia see on another we get increasing close-ups of their eyes. Like… welcome to intense eye contact city. The scene is punctuated with an eerie swooshing sound effect to make it impossible to ignore as A Significant Thing.

Back at Jody’s while Alex goes from Nurse Mode into Monster Autopsy mode (snapping that glove on like a regular Dana Scully), Claire and Kaia have a Bonding Moment outside-- comparing scars. As we pointed out back in 11.15, Dean did this exact same thing while bonding with his childhood idol Gunner Lawless (and yes, not Destiel per se here, but definitely a queercoding of Dean and the exact nature of his youthful infatuation with this wrestler). And the trope started with a scene from Lethal Weapon 3, where Riggs bonded with his wife-to-be in the exact same fashion. And Claire and Kaia’s bonding over this is again shown to us through significant eye contact and smiles, and then beginning to open up about themselves in ways we’ve been told that Kaia never opens up to anyone. At least based off what we know of her from 13.09. This is Significant for both her and Claire, who’s been hunting alone for at least a year now. (like… all the Destiel parallels intended)

Back to the Monster Autopsy… this is so reminiscent of 7.09 for me, as a lot of this episode is. I was half waiting for the monster to sit up and start fighting again just like the monster formerly known as Gerald Browder did in 7.09. But unlike Gerald who’d been human until the “creatures from another dimension” got hold of him and fed him grey goop and turned him into a monster, the thing on the table in 13.10 is… really not even remotely human (and it wore a strange mask anyway, in a season of “masked things” and misidentified things). I even tweeted at one point while watching the first time that the monster’s blood was even visually reminiscent of the TDK Slammer goo. Which is interesting because in 13.03 when we first met Patience, there was a billboard announcing that the TDK Slammer was back at Biggerson’s for a limited time. And isn’t that just entirely amusing.

(also a depressing but necessary side note about 7.09-- the episode ends with Bobby shot through the head by Dick Roman. Dick was a thing that looked like another thing, a thing from “another reality” aka Purgatory in his case. But something that absolutely was not supposed to be on Earth. And of course 13.10 uses a LOT of parallels between Purgatory and The Bad Place. I’ll get to those soon.)

Claire convinces Kaia to open up about what she knows of this strange monster and where it came from, and therefore what happened to Sam and Dean. Kaia was convinced that if Sam and Dean are in the Bad Place, then they’re already dead. Much like Dean was convinced that Mary must already be dead in 13.01 when she was trapped in the War World. And much like Sam was convinced that Dean was already dead when he was trapped in Purgatory back in 8.01. And yet…

Sam and Dean are just having a lil camping trip. Well, Dean’s adjusted SCARY FAST to the Bad Place. I suppose that compared to Purgatory it’s kind of a garden spot. They say they’ve been there for two days already, and they haven’t seemed to have run into anything that’s threatened them. It’s not the sort of 360 degree combat we saw Dean endure in Purgatory anyway. He’s even bothered to stop for barbecue. Well, he’s bothered to trap a lizard and roast it over a fire he managed to build.

Poor Sam, meanwhile, looks disgusted at the mere thought of eating the monster land lizard, and rather uncomfortable in general. In the face of Sam’s uneasiness and insistence that they continue to look for the door back to their universe, Dean maintains his exceedingly practical outlook. “Eat up.” They’ve been there two days, they have no reason to believe the door is even still open, and nobody knows where to look for them. He’s been in this exact same spot before, in Purgatory, and learned very quickly there that you do or your die. There’s no point wasting energy fretting about it. I think it must be a switch he can just flip at will at this point, into Purgatory!Dean. We saw it in 12.15. We’ve seen it a few times since s8, actually. It’s unsettling, but it’s practical. It’s how you survive.

When the monster closes in on their little campsite, Dean takes his roast lizard on a stick to go. Unbeknownst to Sam and Dean, something human-shaped has been following them. They’ve seen nothing to raise their suspicions that it might even be a possibility that anything human-ish lives in that world, or that anything might pose a threat to them aside from the giant monster they keep hearing. They’ve been there just long enough to shift their priorities on what to keep their attention focused on that just by waiting them out, Darth Kaia is able to sneak right up to these two men who at ANY other time would’ve been on high alert about being followed. Like in 8.13 Dean had his “gay thing” with Aaron following him around, and Sam had “something stuck to my shoe,” aka their code word for “I’m being followed.” They have a LONG history of being hyperaware of their surroundings, so it took some kind of patience for Darth Kaia to wait them out like that.

Patience has a crisis of normality after watching the monster autopsy. She’s not sure she can handle the hunting life, and it’s Alex who convinces her to stay. Which is incredible because this was Alex’s crisis back in 11.12 when her own history caught up with her at a time when all she wanted was to be normal, to go to school and have a boyfriend and maybe go to nursing school. She didn’t want anything to do with monsters or hunting, as she and Claire talked about earlier at the hospital, but she’s found a balance that she can live with. She knows she can truly help Jody by helping with the hunting stuff when she can, and that it doesn’t have to be her entire life like it is for Claire. She can do both! And she also knows her limits. Alex isn’t a fighter for the most part, and Patience doesn’t have to be either. They can each have an important place there, though. “We help in other ways.”

As Patience is packing her car to leave, she has another vision of Jody’s house being overrun by monsters. Claire wants to stay and fight, but Patience argues back that they can’t win. And hooboy this is a fascinating parallel to 3.12, in about six different ways. RIP Victor Henriksen. Patience laying down the truth to Claire, and then using an interesting bit of technology to demonstrate the truth of the situation, much as Dean laid the truth out for Victor and Sam used an interesting bit of technology to trap and exorcise a gaggle of demons all at once.

For Sam and Dean, 3.12 also marked one of the points in the show where they were officially declared legally “dead.” It was a turning point for them, which in a strange way freed them up to do their jobs more effectively with far less concern over interference from human authorities, so they could focus on the monsters. In a way, this moment functions in a similar fashion for Patience, not that she’s going to be cut off from society as drastically as Dean and Sam were, but as a liberation of sorts, and an affirmation to herself that her visions are as important to the group as Claire’s fighting skills or Alex’s nursing skills. They all have a role to play. This just helps her find her way to it.

In some ways it’s also reminiscent of 3.15, and the trap Dean left for Bela at their motel, similar to the trap Aragorn helps the hobbits lay for the Ringwraiths in Bree. These monsters aren’t so much fooled by a trap, or decoy bodies left in beds, but they do arrive to an empty house while their quarry has managed to flee. I think this tactic has been used elsewhere in Supernatural, but since I’m just about at the halfway point of the episode and this essay is already nearing 3500 words, I figure I should probably try to be more concise...

Me… more concise. Talk about your freaky AU scenarios…

Whatever. Claire watches the monsters tear up Jody’s house via webcam, and she gets a sudden, shocking, undeniable lesson in the reliability of Patience’s visions, which brings to bear the full weight of the vision that brought her home in the first place, and the reasons that Jody was so terrified for Claire’s safety. For the first time all day, Claire is rattled. It’s one thing to go through life as a hunter knowing how hunters typically end up (and hello all 39 iterations of Dean’s “point of a blade or barrel of a gun” speech), but to know specifically how you’re going to die is entirely different. This was s3 Dean with the ticking clock to Hellhound Day. This was Sam during the Hell Trials.

And enter the D-Train. The ray of sunshine so chill that butter doesn’t melt in her mouth. And like the monster that signalled her first REAL introduction to the supernatural back in 10.08, Jody introduces her as someone who’s killed a lot of vampires. To think Claire wondered when they all became huggers before… “You too, Rainbow Brite. Come on, bring it in.” Donna brought the hugs. And the angel wing imagery behind her in this scene, combined with her nice tan coat. She’s our angel; our sunshine, as it were. And armed to the teeth (just the basics, because she’s from Minnesota).

Alex proves yet again that she’s an excellent Sam parallel, using the phone and Kaia’s vague clues to find the exact location where the rift opened. Please oh please let Alex have the same sort of Magical Wifi that Sam does. :P

When Jody and Donna leave to investigate the shipyard, Jody has Claire stay behind to protect the other girls, much like John used to do with Dean, ordering him to protect Sam. I mean, it has nowhere NEAR the sort of ick factor to John doing that in the flashback scenes in 1.18, for example, but there has been a consistent implication throughout the series that it was a constant state for Dean, and thank HECK this dynamic between Jody and Claire is shattered by the end of this episode.

Jody’s actually surprised when Claire agrees to stay and protect the other girls without much of a fight, because of what Patience’s vision might mean for her, as I mentioned above.

Donna asking who knows how to use a flamethrower… honestly Dean would be jealous. He and Sam have always had their jury-rigged camping fuel flamethrowers when they’ve needed literal firepower like in 3.02 and 4.05 among others.

Speaking of Sam and Dean, back in the Bad Place, Sam’s finally figuring out that they’re in an entirely different universe, and Dean’s annoyed by how muddy it is. Which was a rather hilarious reversal of Sam’s reaction to stepping in horse poop the moment they landed in Sunrise, Wyoming in 1861 way back in 6.18. Sam complained about the state of his boot, and Dean was all excited because AUTHENTICITY! But he’d been wearing his lil cowboy costume at the time, and we know how much Dean loves cowboys, despite the fact that he was far less enamored with “authenticity” and how much germier it was than he’d been expecting… but once he adapted his expectations back in 6.18, he kinda stepped right into the role of sheriff, just like he’s able to adapt to Purgatory and to eating monster lizard despite the germiness factor. He’s a delightful but thoroughly consistent bundle of contradictions, and I love him.

Enter Darth Kaia, who catches them entirely unaware and off guard. They were entirely convinced that the only potential danger to them in this world was whatever huge thing they kept hearing in the distance. They hadn’t run into any of the creepy Monster Autopsy critters that constantly plagued Kaia in The Bad Place, and after two days, it’s entirely understandable that they would begin to let their guard down at least a little bit. Heck, it’s like Westley and Buttercup in the Fire Swamp, except nobody ever told them about the ROUS’s. When Darth Kaia sprang out of nowhere at them in full-on kung fu attack mode with a spear, they were honestly lucky to survive. They’d been flung as far from the portal into that world as Kaia was flung out to that abandoned roadside where the ambulance found her and had picked a random direction to wander in search of a portal the size of a party streamer in an entirely foreign universe. A portal they weren’t entirely sure was still there to find in the first place. Everything about their situation had them on their heels for once, even more so than Purgatory did for Dean (where he was at least expecting to be attacked from the moment he landed, by a pack of red-eyed monsters he later referred to as “gorilla wolves” in 8.02). And funny that the Big Monster in the Bad Place has a skull that vaguely resembles a gorilla, and the smaller red-eyed monsters were scripted as “Canids,” aka “dog-like monsters.” Again, in so many ways, The Bad Place is similar in design and function to Purgatory.

Back at the abandoned shipyard, Jody and Donna find the Impala and know they’ve found the right place. They find the melted angel blade and scorched angel wings from 13.09, as well as the portal, but encounter a very large pack of the “Canids.”

Claire and Kaia have another heart to heart reminiscent of some of Dean and Cas’s conversations. Claire expresses some of the same sorts of self-doubt and fear that Dean did at the end of 4.16 while lying in the hospital bed, telling Cas it’s too big, and he can’t do it. But Claire feels she can’t stand back and let others handle this alone. Kaia encourages her with, “If you go, I’ll go with you.” And how many times have we heard Dean and Cas offer this to each other? Very recently in Dean’s offer to accompany Cas to his angel meeting in 13.07. But also highly notably in 11.23 when Cas offered to go with Dean to face Amara. In situations large and small, they have offered to go with each other. But unlike the majority of Dean and Cas’s I’ll go with you’s, Claire accepts Kaia’s offer. They DO stand together. They ACCEPT the help and support. (Can we please have this gradually begin to happen with Cas and Dean? I mean, even something small like Dean running out to pick up pizza or something, and Cas offers to go with him, and Dean’s like YES GOOD I WOULD LIKE THAT.)

“Maybe together we can save them.”

Meanwhile at the rift, Donna wants to go back and tell the girls they found it, but Jody is ready to go into the rift alone. “If I don’t, she will.” She knows Claire would run into danger to do what she believed was right. That’s how you save people, after all. But here we see into what’s motivating Jody to protect Claire from danger-- “I can’t lose another child.” And I know I mentioned this about 3k words ago, but the Canids pose an immediate threat and Jody is forced to turn back from running headlong into the rift the way she was trying to prevent Claire from doing. This motivation to self-sacrifice to save someone else-- a child-- is what motivated John’s deal with Azazel in 2.01 in exchange for Dean’s life, and what motivated Dean to sell his own soul in 2.22 in exchange for Sam’s life. Jody’s only saved by circumstance, but it gives her a chance to step back and reevaluate that choice, and to see Claire clearly, to let go of her need to protect Claire at all cost.

Back in the Bad Place, Sam and Dean come to tied to a couple of trees in a foggy forest. I feel like yelling, “I hope your apple pie is freaking worth it!” because this feels just like 1.11. Instead of being sacrificed to the scarecrow, they’re being sacrificed to the Kaiju.

Meanwhile Claire has tried to call Jody, but when Jody doesn’t answer, Claire goes immediately into Concerned Mode. All four girls unite immediately into “Together we can save them” mode. And it’s beautiful.

Donna and Jody take refuge in an abandoned car aboard the ship, lying across the front and back seats in a configuration identical to the way Sam and Dean slept in 11.04-- the Winchester Motel. But instead of a cooler full of beer, Jody and Donna have a swarm of Canids trying to figure out how to get at them.

(wherein we discover that Canids are really not the smartest monsters…)

If they make a run for it, they’re dead, but if they stay put they’re dead too. Kinda feels like a situation typical of Supernatural, yes? What they need is a miraculous intervention.

*enter the flamethrower*

And Claire is so chill and competent with her flamethrower that it brings a smile to Jody’s face. And in that moment she might still hate the whole idea of it, but she knows she’s gonna let Claire go through that portal without too much fuss… especially after she realizes that the portal is shrinking. Claire tries to run through it and Jody holds her back, though not to stop her. To tell her she knows. Jody understands. As much as Claire needed to save Sam and Dean, Jody needed her to know that she understood.

Donna, ray of sunshine and weapons training officer. OKIE DOKE, HERE YA GO. and then “Oh there he is! Hiya, buddy!” When there was just ONE Canid, but Donna absolutely does not lose her cool when she sees it’s a veritable swarm of the things coming at them. Bless. “Okie doke” reminded me so much of that security guard in 2.12 that Dean liked because he said “okie dokie.”

Kaia knows right where Sam and Dean probably are in the Bad Place, just from the sound of the Kaiju monster. Claire shows up and cuts Sam and Dean free in a circumstance reminiscent of Sam showing up to cut Dean and Emily free in 1.11.

At the portal, Kaia shoves Claire out of the way just in time to save her from Darth Kaia’s spear, and instead she takes the spear wound to her own side. Need I even bring up all the Fisher King symbolism here that was so incredibly prominent in s12 surrounding Cas? The comparison has already been made to Ramiel stabbing Cas with the Lance of Michael, but it wasn’t just that one episode that draped Cas in Fisher King/Wounded King parallels. I believe many of those also apply to Kaia…

As she lay there dying, she reaches out and grabs hold of Claire’s hand while Sam and Dean have drawn their angel blades to stand off against the now apparently disarmed Darth Kaia. Except that’s when the Kaiju shows up…

Claire ignores her own safety in the face of that much larger threat, and charges at Darth Kaia in a fit of rage/grief over Kaia’s apparent death, and Dean has to grab her and pull her through the portal just as it snaps closed. Cue the parallel to Dean dragging Sam away from Jess’s burning bedroom ceiling in 1.01, and Sam pulling Dean through this exact same sort of portal in 12.23 when he was struggling to run after Cas.

Meanwhile Patience struggles to understand the vision that brought her to Jody’s in the first place-- Claire’s “death.” The editing of this scene is spectacular-- cuts between Kaia’s body in the Bad Place, Claire in Jody’s arms both in Patience’s vision and in reality, and Patience herself putting all of these pieces together. Death, life, and what she believed was a death was actually profound grief… and again this has been a theme of s13 through Sam refusing to grieve for Mary and his belief that she was not only alive but that they could save her, Dean’s grief over Cas’s death that he believed was permanent, to the point he’d lost all hope for anything and was ready to die in 13.05 until Death herself told him he still had work to do.

Whatever the truth of what’s happened to Kaia, there is absolutely work to do here, as well.

Dean says “I tried talking to her.” Not “we” but “I.” He’s beginning to use the proper words here. This issue has been going on for a loooong time, where Dean phrases things in terms of “we,” such as in 11.23 during the infamous Beer Run, telling Cas he’s like “our brother,” and always couching his feelings as inclusive of Sam as well. This was nicely lampshaded in 12.20 by Max Banes calling Alicia out on her attempt to do the same thing, and in 13.07 Dean FINALLY told Cas “I’ll go with you,” instead of “we’ll go with you.” The fact that Dean is talking about himself like this regarding anything even in the same arena as emotional issues is just… fantastic all around.

Claire feels responsible for Kaia’s death, after promising to protect her. She feels she failed, and that that was the reason Kaia was killed. Jody doesn’t dismiss any of Claire’s feelings or try to talk her out of them (the way Sam and Dean have done for, like, ever), only offers her unconditional support whenever Claire’s ready to accept it.

Cleaning up after the Canids tore up the house, Patience has a lil moment of shock over the fact she killed a monster. Donna smiles knowingly and Alex chuckles and says, “Welcome to the family.” Like Claire said in the cold open, “I kill monsters, that’s who the hell I am.” Well, that’s what this whole family is. They save people and they kill monsters.

Darth Kaia has opened a rift to our world, in the middle of a park reminiscent to the place where Mary turned up in 12.01… opening about a million other mysteries along with that rift.

I know I didn’t cover all the parallels. That probably wouldn’t be possible considering how many times the show has looped back around on itself thematically and narratively, but I think I hit all the big ones here. Now how the hell do I even begin tagging this?

‿︵‿︵‿︵‿ヽ(°□° )ノ︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

[wp-yahoo-style-1042-yahoopa-blog]

How two plus size influencers are twinning with Meghan Markle and Prince Harry

You don’t have to be thin, rich — or royal, for that matter — to look and feel like a prince or (soon-to-be) princess. Just ask plus-size influencers Katie Sturino and Ryan Dziadul. The duo recreated one of Meghan Markle and Prince Harry’s recent ensembles, and the result is inspiring in so many ways.

Who else is amped for The Royal Wedding?!? Obviously US! We’re #supersizethelook -ing anything that this dashing couple puts on. Yay Beret and how handsome is @extraextrastyle as Prince H?!

A post shared by Katie Sturino (@the12ishstyle) on Apr 15, 2018 at 5:08pm PDT

Sturino, founder of the 12ish style blog, and mother of the late Toast the dog, and Dziadul, founder of Extra Extra Style, frequently team up to recreate famous photos, but this one takes the cake, or should we say crown?

They both shared photos of their work on Instagram, posting side-by-side images of the royal couple and themselves rocking near-identical outfits. The looks they chose were worn by Markle and Prince Harry on Commonwealth Day, for Markle’s first official appearance with Queen Elizabeth.

The actress was wearing a navy-blue dress and long cream coat by Amanda Wakeley, topped with a matching cream beret by Stephen Jones. On her feet she wore navy pumps. Sturino found pieces similar to Markle’s, including a Rachel Roy coat and an ASOS hat, creating an approachable version of the high-end outfit. The prince wore a navy-blue suit with a maroon tie, and Dziadul did the same. Dziadul and Sturino even had the royal poses down pat, proving that even civilians can reach the style levels of royalty.

“The Royal We” edition of @the12ishstyle ‘s #SuperSizeTheLook What do you think? You wanna marry my version of Harry?

A post shared by Ryan Dziadul (@extraextrastyle) on Feb 18, 2018 at 4:40pm PST

A few months ago, Sturino enlisted Dziadul to recreate their first royal look, for Prince Harry and Markle’s first appearance together after announcing their engagement. “They’re a couple the whole world is watching. They’re young, they’re stylish, and I’ve never met them, but they seem like fun,” Dziadul tells Yahoo Lifestyle, explaining why they like to recreate the couple’s looks.

"Top 15 Female Fashio Blogger January 2018 No. 12 Katie Sturino Founder of @Megababe IG @the12ishstyle ""Which one is marrying Harry amiright??"" . . . . . . . #howtostyle #stylediaries #fullofcurves #chokerstyle #chokermania #grungelook #velvetnails #camidress #slipdresses #supersizethelook #ootd #instagood #officeoutfit #iglove #instadaily #igdaily #fashion #stylewoman #femeworld #feme #fashionblogger #12ish #likeit #builtbygirls #KatieSturino #love #follow ️️"

A post shared by femeworld (@femeworld) on Feb 6, 2018 at 10:06am PST

Sturino’s also taken with Markle’s style solo; she once proved that double denim can look good on anybody, especially when topped with a camel peacoat like Markle’s. “Well, who doesn’t have royal fever right now?” Sturino tells Yahoo Lifestyle. “The world can’t get enough of this couple, especially Meghan Markle’s style choices.”

She’s right — the Meghan Markle effect is in full swing.

But there’s more to it than simply fawning over the soon-to-be newlyweds. “Meghan and Harry have the world’s resources at their fingertips — from money to stylists to trainers. But that doesn’t mean they have a monopoly on style,” Dziadul explains. “Regular people, and plus-size people, deserve to look and feel like royalty too.”

As Sturino chimed in, “I would say that Harry and Meghan represent one of the most attractive couples in the universe right now, and if you don’t happen to fit their body-type profile, it’s nice to see that these looks can translate to any size.”

Their followers agree: Sturino’s post from Monday has almost 10,000 likes. “I think we’re so conditioned to seeing celebs and famous people looking a certain way (aka thin!) that people are psyched to see another interpretation of their style,” Dziadul says.

Sturino feels this way about all public figures, which is why her #SupersizeTheLook project exists. She recreates outfits worn by celebs on a regular basis, and she always hits it out of the park — sometimes looking better than the original wearer of the outfit. Some of Sturino’s most successful recreations include Amal Clooney in her red dress and camel coat, a golden Beyoncé ensemble, and Chrissy Teigen in a see-through skirt.

We’re in complete awe of Katie and how she always inspires us with her #supersizethelook project. Such a !!! #Curveyor ❤️ @the12ishstyle

A post shared by Curveyors (@curveyors) on Feb 7, 2018 at 8:04pm PST

I dared to Super Size the Queen Couldnt look away from her gold dipped outfit so I had to #supersizethelook ✨✨✨✨✨✨

A post shared by Katie Sturino (@the12ishstyle) on Feb 2, 2018 at 12:01pm PST

And she doesn’t steer clear of models just because of their slender frames. With the help of fellow plus-size women, she’s nailed the looks of Gigi, Kendall, and Bella.

#supersizethelook Friends Edition‍♀️ with @huntermcgrady ‍♀️ on the eve of national women’s day, a reminder it’s not about who wore it better, it’s about the fact that anybody can wear anything! Don’t limit your style inspiration❤️

A post shared by Katie Sturino (@the12ishstyle) on Mar 7, 2018 at 5:37pm PST

She even once wore practically nothing to recreate one of Kylie Jenner‘s looks.

SEND NUDES! I wanted to #supersizethelook for Kylie's nude look bc i thought it was hot! You don't need flat abs to rock a sexy sporty look like this Mine is by @outdoorvoices More on the blog!

A post shared by Katie Sturino (@the12ishstyle) on Apr 25, 2017 at 7:25pm PDT

“Celebrities have access to a whole team of people telling them how to look good, so in general, they are supercurrent on trends and styles, and we’re lucky to have them as a resource!” she says. “However, many people think they can’t pull off so-and-so’s style. I’m just trying to let women know that style has nothing to do with size.”

Her favorite creation was inspired by Giovanna Battaglia Engelbert. For that, she tracked down the exact Gucci skirt worn by the fashion editor and paired it with a similar multicolored tee. “I loved the Giovanna Battaglia Gucci skirt look,” she says. “Personally, she is my favorite style personality to copy, as everything she wears is perfection.”

A recent Kate Bosworth recreation proved to be difficult, however. “I recently did Kate Bosworth in some yellow flare pants. … Those were tough to find in my size for sure,” she notes. But that challenge is nothing new to her.

love this twinning #Repost @the12ishstyle Always crushing on @bat_gio New #supersizethelook featuring graphic tees now on @popsugarfashion #theartoftwinning

A post shared by Giovanna Battaglia Engelbert (@bat_gio) on Oct 18, 2017 at 5:55am PDT

“It’s kind of hard to find things in my sizes for many of the celebrities I supersize,” she shares. Luckily, Markle’s style is easy to mimic, no matter what your size. “She chooses classic pieces and mixes them in a refreshing and updated way,” says Sturino. “I was excited to see her in the beret look, because it gave me a chance to try that style on myself!”

But even when she’s not trying to dress like a celebrity, shopping isn’t so simple; she describes herself as a “size 12ish in a size 2 world.”

“I’m certainly used to having a hard time finding clothing in my size — it’s why I started my blog,” Sturino says. “To share my tips and tricks with women who have to scour the internet for the closest thing that seems to be readily available for anyone who is above a size 4.”

She has hope that it will get easier. “It’s starting to get easier, though, with the introduction of websites like CoEdition and some of the plus-size brands out there, like Eloquii. There is light at the end of the tunnel.”

Read more from Yahoo Lifestyle:

How Rihanna shook the beauty industry by challenging what it means to be inclusive

11 chic athleisure looks under $50 from Simple Be’s more size-inclusive relaunch

How Gabi Gregg is championing plus-size swimwear for ‘real’ women everywhere

Follow us on Instagram, Facebook, and Twitter for nonstop inspiration delivered fresh to your feed, every day.

[moodboardinthecloud]

Amanda Gorman 2018

https://nyti.ms/2F1bs82

A Young Poet’s Inspiration

By Adeel Hassan

Feb. 28, 2018

How did Amanda Gorman, 19, become the first person to be named national youth poet laureate? She shares her story with the Race/Related newsletter below. Ms. Gorman also wrote original poems, which we animated. Watch them here. For more coverage of race, sign up to have our newsletter delivered weekly to your inbox.

It’s impossible not to think of your having been a precocious child. Tell me whether there was anything early that pointed you in the direction of writing.

I grew up at this incredibly odd intersection in Los Angeles, where it felt like the black ’hood met black elegance met white gentrification met Latin culture met wetlands. Traversing between these worlds, either to go to a private school in Malibu, or then come back home to my family’s two-bedroom apartment, gave me an appreciation for different cultures and realities, but also made me feel like an outsider. I’m sure my single mother, Joan Wicks, might describe me as a precocious child, but looking back in elementary school I often self-described myself as a plain “weird” child. I spent most of elementary school convinced that I was an alien. Literally.

The worlds I mentioned, traveled between for school and home — of blackness and whiteness — seemed so foreign to me. While other students were on the jungle gym, I was writing in my journal on a park bench, or trying to write my own dictionary. I was obsessed with everything and anything; I wanted to learn everything, to read everything, to do everything. I was constantly on sensory overload. I’d hoard dozens of books in my second-grade cubby, and literally try to read two at a time, side by side.

What contributed to my writing early on is how my mom encouraged it. She kept the TV off because she wanted my siblings and I to be engaged and active. So we made forts, put on plays, musicals, and I wrote like crazy.

Who were the writers who made you first want to write? When did you decide to be a poet?

I’ll never forget being in third grade, and my teacher, Shelly Fredman, a writer in her own right, was reading Ray Bradbury’s novel “Dandelion Wine” to our class. I don’t remember what the metaphor was exactly — something about candy — but I lost my mind. It was the best thing I’d ever heard. Pure magic!

How did you discover your own voice? How did it feel to discover your own voice? Did it happen gradually? When did you get more serious about writing?

In eighth grade, I picked up Toni Morrison’s “The Bluest Eye,” because I’d never seen a book with a dark-skinned, nappy- haired girl on the cover. I was enthralled, not just by Morrison’s craftsmanship, but also the content of her stories — her characters, which I’ve always called fourth dimensional. What’s more, I realized that all of the stories I read, and wrote, featured white or light-skinned characters. I’d been reading books without black heroines, which nearly stripped me of the

ability to write in my own voice, blackness and all. Reading Morrison was almost like reteaching myself how to write unapologetically in a black and feminist aesthetic that was my own. After that I made a promise to myself: To never stop writing, and to always represent marginalized figures in my work.

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And from that sprouted my own voice — the voice of an unashamed black woman who also by way of a speech impediment understood what it was like to be silenced, and didn’t wish this fate on any other soul. To hone my voice, I read everything, from books to cereal boxes, three times: once for fun, the second time to learn something new about the writing craft, and the third time was to improve that piece. I woke up early every day and basically did “literary dress up,” where I’d wear another writer’s voice like clothing and move onto the next one, until I’d gone through a stack of 10 different books. I wore ephemeral versions, copying their sentence constructions, verbiage, and tones. Then I’d step out of them and choose the best characteristics of those styles, until I created a voice that was mine.

This was before I started thinking about publishing, which came in early high school when I started attending free poetry workshops at Beyond Baroque and the nonprofit WriteGirl.

What is it that gets you started on a poem? Is it an idea, an image, a rhythm, or something else? Do you rely more on your ears or your eyes?

Both the external and the internal trigger me. If I’m writing about something internal, say past experiences, I’m writing about it in relation to an external reality, like the ocean. When that connection happens in my mind, I grab a pen and find the closest excuse for sunlight. I usually begin with a word cloud, where I write down the best words I’ve heard that week — like plum, stone, spoon — I don’t know why but I love words like that.

I then take those words and begin to write. I think about the content of what I’m writing first, just getting the lines out and choosing the most necessary ones. Only then do I think about a shape that comes out of that meaning. Where do I want this line to break? Do I want the stanzas to be shaped like a girl, or a house? Maybe it’s because of an auditory processing disorder, but I depend a lot on sight. But that also means I’m hypersensitive to sound — I just see it, rather than hear it, if that makes sense. For example, in order to write, I must have music. Without. Music. I. Can. Not. Write. I’ll play an instrumental track that speaks to my mood, usually something by Lin-Manuel Miranda, Ludwig Göransson or Michael Giacchino, and then my poem becomes a visualization of that sound.

"It’s always difficult to describe my own poetry, it’s like trying to paint my own face without a photo." Tony Cenicola/The New York Times

Do you have a writing routine? Do you have a favorite place to write? Do you tend to revise?

When I was in school and commuting at least an hour each way, I had to write on the bus or anywhere I could. Now I spend a lot of time writing by the Charles River, when it’s not cold enough to freeze my hair. The revision muscle has been the most difficult for me to build. I used to treat my poetry like hiccups — it came out and that was it. I’d sit for an hour and write something, edit it a few times in that same sitting, and that was it. At Harvard I’m working on the ability to go back to a piece after a few weeks and carve out a better version.

Revelation is a fact of your poems. Do you feel “visceral” is an accurate description of your poetry?

It’s always difficult to describe my own poetry, it’s like trying to paint my own face without a photo. I guess visceral is accurate in that I attempt to bring the reader or listener on an emotional journey, but it’s also a visceral inquiry. I want my poetry to ask questions, even without answers. I want my poetry to interrogate myself and the audience so deeply you can feel it ringing in your gut afterward.

Do you agree with Czeslaw Milosz that poems should be written “under unbearable duress and only with the hope/that good spirits, not evil ones, choose us for their instrument?”

Often my poems are written under duress — I probably lose eight strands of hair every time I write — but I’m not sure if they should be. Meaning that I believe poems can be written in casual moments and still be great — which is a challenge if you’re a writer of color and compelled to write about something concerning the physical and sociopolitical trauma and endurance of your people.

Do you feel any ethical responsibility as a poet? Do you have a reader in your mind when you write?

I will always feel an ethical responsibility as a poet because I will always feel an ethical responsibility as a person, as we all should; the truck driver, the engineer, the painter, the prince, the writer, the biologists, all have a responsibility just by being. So I write to them when I write, a myriad people with their own dreams and duties. I write a lot for that bucktoothed, kinky- haired, speech-garbled 7-year-old still inside myself who didn’t see herself reflected in literature.

Why have you chosen poetry as a medium of artistic creation?

In all honesty, in the beginning I chose writing out of a socioeconomic and human necessity. With a speech impediment I was always looking for ways to express myself. Dance classes became too expensive, and I used 99 Cents Store paint for my art, which got frustrating. To write I just needed a pen and a page.

How do you understand this moment when it comes to race?

Ah. I’m not sure if I can say I understand a lot about this moment when it comes to race; a lot is still frustrating and complex. In many ways it feels like we are in the fog of war.

I firmly believe that this moment, when it comes to race, is a moment of redefinition and revolution. I believe that the fact that this moment at times is so painful and terrifying might actually be a source of hope — because usually the things that matter, the things that make change, and the things that last for generations to come are painful and terrifying for the generations that initiated them.

Follow Adeel Hassan on Twitter @adeelnyt.

[all-the-cliches-lwa]

Playin It Coo

Just a silly(emphasis on silly) thing I wanted to write when I saw what my friend drew for my super vague commission of make either Diana or Akko flustered. Since it’s for art on here, I thought why not put the fic itself here first! Hoping the silly fic does the art justice. 

And really, how often do I get to read Akko be the super emotionally awkward one.

The title is exactly what my friend labeled her picture file... so it doesn’t exactly have anything to do with the fic... I guess? Maybe? 

Dianakko fluff (of course)

Edit: ff.net link

length: ~2535 words. Man if I coulda only stretched this out another 1000 words lol

"Akko… I- I love you"

Akko groaned into her pillow as the memory played itself in her head over and over.

It could have been such a beautiful memory.

She could remember every little detail vividly.

The light dusting of pink on Diana's fair skin.

The shy, yet determined look in those ocean blue eyes.

The way her platinum blonde hair practically glowed with the rays of the rising sun as it flew with the cool morning breeze.

Diana's hands held together behind her back, the heiress fidgeting just the slightest bit.

Akko could remember the racing of her own heart. 

Here she was, the girl of her dreams, confessing to her at the end of an exhausting early morning magic practice session.  

It would have been perfect.

Honestly, Akko had thought it was a dream at first. An incredibly vivid, absolutely perfect dream…

Until she woke up in the infirmary with a note telling her that Diana would wait however long for a reply.

The embarrassing reality sunk in, and Akko's face had been on fire ever since.

She had passed out.

She was so overjoyed that she literally passed out.

She was never going to live this down. She didn't even know how she was going to face Diana ever again.

If there was any comfort in this humiliation, it was that neither one of her roommates had seemed to know what was wrong with her.

"Woah, what's ta matter with her?"

And thankfully, neither did the Green team, whom her roommates had called in for help.

"We don't know… She's been hiding under her covers like this for hours, and Sucy and I don't know what to do…"

"I can't focus with her constant groaning."

Akko could just live like this. For the rest of her life.

No one would question it. No one would have to know that-

"I'd have thought she'd be happier. After all, Diana did confess to her this morning right?"

"SHE WHAT?!"

Scratch that. There was no comfort in this humiliation. There was only humiliation.

"AMANDA!" Akko yelled, tossing her covers to the side. "HOW DID YOU-"

"Diana came and talked to me about it yesterday." Amanda shrugged. "Had to convince her that it was the right choice… though lookin’ at you now…" Amanda's face twisted into a mischievous grin, "what happened Akko?"

Akko's heart jumped, the memory once again flashing through her mind.

At least the embarrassing part.

"N-N-Nothing happened!" Akko poorly denied.

"Oh really?" Amanda cocked a brow. "Lotte, Sucy, what do you think?"

"I don't know…" Lotte nervously answered, caught between her own burning curiosity and Akko's personal discomfort.

"We should ask Diana..." Sucy responded bluntly.

"Y-YOU CAN'T!" Akko yelled out as she jumped out of bed to grip onto Sucy's arm.

"… unless Akko would like to tell us herself," Sucy continued with an impish grin.

Akko turned to the others in the room, only to be met with the same level of attention, with everyone looking at her expectantly.

The brunette squirmed under their scrutiny, knowing that… no matter what, they were going to wind up knowing what happened and she was going to find herself teased beyond belief.

"FINE!" Akko relented.

At least this way, Diana wouldn't need to be around to witness it.

"AHAHAHAHHAA"

The sounds of her friends' laughter filled the room.

Laughter at her expense.

"I-I ca-can't believe y-you" Amanda tried to speak, only to be overcome by her own cackles.

Jasminka had put her food away because she was laughing too hard.

Sucy snickered from the side, her eyes never leaving Akko's direction so that she could take in every bit of her misery.

Lotte, the one person Akko had hoped could help her in this time of need, also seemed to be lost in a fit of giggles.

Even Constanze was fighting not to giggle audibly.

"You guuuuuuys, it's not funny." Akko pouted as she hid her tomato red face underneath her pillow.

"I'm. sorry Ak-Akko, but i-it’s pretty f-freakin' funny." Amanda laughed out.  

"I never thought you'd be the one to pass out," Sucy jabbed.

Akko whined as she tried to dig a hole in her bed, though she had already resigned herself to this fate.

Eventually, the laughter died down. With the amusement gone, everyone in the room was left with the same question.

"Akko, so what're you gonna do now?" Amanda asked, her feet resting on the desk. "You gonna answer her any time soon?"

"I dunno…" Akko sighed. "I want to but…"

"Don't be an idiot and drag this out, " Sucy deadpanned. "I don't want to deal with a problem that isn't even a problem."

"Sucy I…"

"Akko, you know Diana likes you." Lotte chimed in. "She already said so… and we know you like her."

"I knooooow. I'm just…" Akko mumbled.

"What was that? We can't hear you." Sucy commented.

"I'm just embarrassed!" Akko yelled. "I fainted. How am I, what if she laughs at me?"

"Akko, she isn't going to laugh at you." Lotte comforted, reaching out for Akko's arm.

"Ya said she left you a note right?" Amanda asked. When Akko nodded, the American witch flashed a grin. "See, you'll be fine."

"Don't overthink things Akko, you're not smart enough for that to work." Sucy finished, sending Akko a small smile.

"Yeah. Yeah! You're right!" Akko cheered up. "I'm going to tell her how I feel tomorrow! She deserves that much!"

Spurred on by the encouragement of her friends, Akko was determined to give the heiress the answer she deserved.

After all, Akko really didn't have anything to lose.

Tomorrow was going to be perfect!

Tomorrow was absolutely not perfect.

It wasn't that anything bad had happened.

It was that absolutely nothing had happened.

Akko woke up bright and cheery, with a single goal in mind: the first time she saw Diana, she would pull the heiress away, tell the girl her feelings were the same, and make them both the happiest witches in the entire school.

Unfortunately, as with anything Akko did, things weren't going as planned.

The first time Akko noticed Diana’s wavy blonde hair from across the hall, she perked up and grinned, walking towards the heiress with gusto.

But with every step she took, she felt her heart race more quickly. Her palms began to sweat, and her face began to flush.

Her brain instantly flashed the memory of Diana's confession… particularly of the moment right before everything went black. And Akko, once again felt those same sensations… her legs knees beginning to buckle, her legs turning to jelly.

... She was slowly growing lightheaded. 

The moment Akko saw even the slightest movement of the heiress's head towards her direction, she instantly turned on her heel, walked away, much to the confusion of both of her roommates, and hid behind the corner.

Then there was class time.

Saying hi to Diana should have been no big deal. Maybe she could have pulled her aside after class and told her in private. That would have worked.

At least until Diana sent her a smile.

An adorably subtle smile. One where the heiress's lips curled up just enough so that only someone who looked at her with undivided attention would notice.

One where those blue eyes looked at her with nothing but warmth and affection.

It was like a shock to her heart, and Akko found her mind lost in that sea of blue, unable to so much as think of any words.

She was so dazed that Lotte and Sucy had to move her once class ended.

Lunchtime was absolute torture.

Diana was acting completely natural, sharing conversation with her roommates, and occasionally Amanda, as if nothing ever happened… until Akko caught glimpses of clear blue eyes sneaking glances at her. Each little look made her heart skip a beat… and made her almost choke on her food.

When she felt like she was no longer in any danger, Akko would always looks back up to see an amused smile adorning Diana's perfect lips. Those wondrous eyes squinted just the teeniest bit as the heiress fought back a giggle.

Which Akko was grateful for.

If she heard Diana giggle, Akko might have actually fainted again.

Having had an after class meeting with Chariot, Akko now trailed alone to the usual meeting spot.

And naturally, since she was alone, her brain decided to run through all the events from the past two days.

She remembered having to, promptly, turn around and hide from Diana because her little heart was about to give out.

She remembered being struck speechless because Diana had simply smiled in her direction.

She remembered herself nearly choking during lunch because Diana had dared to glance her way and almost giggle.

And of course, she remembered the previous day… or rather reminded herself of an event she couldn’t exactly remember: ...herself fainting.

Akko could feel the heat on her face had already spread up to the tips of her ears and even down to her neck.

She was almost considering just giving up for the day… after all, she'd made a fool of herself so much already.

Even if Diana loved her-

"Akko… I-I love you"

The words echoed in her mind.

A silent encouragement pushing her forward.

Akko took a deep breath, now just a few behind the rest of her friends.

She could see Diana kneeling on a mat at the front, watching what seemed to be Lotte, Barbara, and... Hannah?... reenacting a scene from Nightfall for everyone. 

She could see the heiress's shoulders bouncing up and down in laughter…

But most importantly, her eyes zoomed in to the spot beside her. An empty spot. Where her left hand was just sitting there.

Akko closed her eyes and focused on Diana’s confession, hoping it would give her the nerve to act.

Sure Akko… might not be able to speak. Those words were definitely about to get caught in her throat after everything that happened today…

But talking wasn't the only way she could let her feelings be known.

She just need to play it cool. 

Diana was only the slightest bit disappointed.

She very well couldn't blame Akko for being so uncharacteristically hesitant throughout the day… given the circumstances of their previous outing.

Perhaps she could have chosen a better time to confess than right after a very taxing early morning session of magic practice. Akko was already short on breath at the time… maybe revealing that to her was not the most well thought idea the heiress had ever had.

Though she would admit the fact Akko had fainted, while undeniably concerning, was rather endearing… and oddly enough a huge relief, once the girl’s safety was ensured. If anything, Diana was flattered. It seemed Akko liked her enough that the confession made her swoon on the spot.

Hannah and Barbara could attest that Diana had been on cloud nine the rest of that day.

Her mood only brightened when Amanda stopped by to tell her Akko would be giving her a response the next day…

And now it was the end of “the next day”… and Akko still hadn't said anything…

But, again, she was only slightly disappointed.

After all… Akko was at least trying.

All the ways the brunette had looked at her throughout the day said as much… the poor witch had been trying so hard to say something. Diana couldn’t think of a moment when it didn’t look like words were caught on the tip of Akko’s tongue... or that Akko’s face wasn’t red.

It was actually rather adorable.

But still, not an official answer…

Diana sighed inwardly as she watched Barbara pretend to be some sort of vampire, Hannah, having been dragged in by Barbara, pretend to be some sort of werewolf, and Lotte pretend to be some sort of damsel.

So perhaps today wouldn't be the day.

She told Akko she could wait anytime for a response… whether it be today or… months from now…or... Jennifer forbid, years from now...

Diana sincerely hoped it would be sooner rather than later.

She even left a spot open for Akko to sit at when she came back fro-

Suddenly, Diana caught movement from the corner of her eye.

She felt the mat move, and a flash of brunette hair revealed exactly who had taken the spot.

Diana's heart skipped a beat as Akko sat beside her. The brunette was kind of facing away from her, but she didn't mind. The red tip of her ear showed Diana all she needed to know.

Diana smiled, pushing a lock of her hair to the side..

"Good afternoon Ak-"

Diana's breath hitched, her greeting getting caught in her throat, as she felt a foreign sensation rest on her left hand… a sensation that just about blocked out all of her surroundings.

It was sweaty, if not a bit clammy…

But it was warm. And soft. Unexpected but altogether welcome.

Diana could see Akko's ear's turning a deeper shade of red… and she could feel her own face beginning to redden.

Her pulse was rushing, and Diana could feel Akko’s pulse felt the very same.

She couldn't see Akko's face, but Diana just knew it was probably beet red. Her lips were probably pursed… eyes looking in the exact opposite direction that their hands were.

Their hands that were… conjoined.

Just thinking about that made Diana's heart jump for joy.

But… they had been pretty silent since Akko sat beside her…and Diana really wanted to make sure this was what she thought it was. 

Diana let out a breath she hadn't even realized she had been holding. Then she took a deep breath to, hopefully, compose herself.

It wouldn't do well for both of them to be at risk of fainting after all.

"G-Good afternoon Akko," Diana greeted, pleasantly surprised she had only stuttered once.

"H-hey D-Diana," Akko stammered, her voice pitched just slightly higher than usual.

Cute.

"I… could not help but notice your hand is holding mine."

"… Is that a problem?" Akko mumbled.

"No, not at all," Diana answered, her heart pounding harder and harder by the second, "J-just we have not done so since we performed the Shiny Arc together… should I take this as your reply to my… confession?"

Diana heard a squeak from the girl beside her before the brunette shyly nodded her head. The heiress could feel her heart swell, forcing a smile onto her face.

She leaned in close… just enough so that she was right beside Akko's ear.

If the shiver she felt course down Akko's arm was any indication, it seemed the brunette could feel a breath ghost her skin.

"You know Akko… I really do love you." Diana confessed once again.

Only to be met with one more adorably loud squeak.

And a tightened grip on her hand.

And an even brighter shade of red on the brunette's ears.

"… You are not going to faint on me again, are you?" Diana asked with a grin.

She just couldn't resist.

"NO!" Akko yelled out, much to the laughter of everyone around them.

Everyone that both girls forgot were with them.

Woops.

Anyway, hope that was fun to read! Thanks so much for taking the time to read of course. 

[beatricethecat2]

if/then (2.0) - 12

Sneaking this up at the midnight hour. Typos, yes! Edited a bunch 2/3.

Previously: part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7, part 8, part 9, part 10, part 11

Read first if you are new! gutted/sorted and wax/wane…if/then is a continuation of those two.

////////////////

Upon Myka's return from abroad, the lack of the push of the sale makes it difficult to ease back into her life again. Without a clear path to London, having time on her hands feel wrong, so much so Helena’s action plan, while controversial, seems more and more viable.

The last night of their trip, their "alone time" was thwarted by Claudia already having plans with friends. They instead cuddled with Christina until she fell asleep in bed then moved to the couch and cuddled together. A steamy make-out session soon commenced and continued for quite some time until it was mutually acknowledged they could go no further clothed. Myka laid her head on Helena's chest while Helena stroked her fingers through her curls and as they lounged, an all-consuming bliss flowed between them.

“I’ve been looking into schools for Christina, and flats near said schools,” Helena said, quietly, as if she knew she was impinging on Myka’s buzz.

“You have?” Myka said, tilting her head back and angling her eyes up to meet Helena's.

“Imagine waking up next to each other in our very own bed.”

“Heavenly,” Myka hummed and snuggled close.

“I spoke briefly with Claudia, and we've devised a plan. I'll use the money I saved to bring you and Christina over. It’s of little use stagnating in a box and Claudia believes she can render it transferrable."

“But that's Christina's college fund."

“There's plenty of time to replenish it before she's off.”

“You're serious?”

“Quite.”

There were a number of things Myka wanted to say then, ranging from, “why didn’t we do that in the first place,” to “yet another thing to go wrong," but Helena continued before she had a chance.

"No more running yourself ragged, remedying my follies. I could support you while you’re finding your feet. And with London as your hub, you’ll source new contacts easily. Your art will thrive, and we'll follow you wherever your travels take you."

“In your dreams," Myka said, smirking coyly, reaching up and patting Helena’s cheek.

“Mind you, not to the extent of Pedram and his wife, but as much as I could manage. And who knows the bounties my future may hold.”

“Where’s all this positivity coming from?”

“From having you near,” Helena answered. She slid Myka’s hand over her lips and kissed the palm. “I’m sick to death of others controlling my circumstances. It’s high time I steered my own ship. For you, for us, for all our futures.”

“But the appeal. You're not worried?” Helena's ideas were plausible, but her sense of excitement was tinted with unease. There must be a snag somewhere.

“Terrified. But I refuse to wave it around as an excuse any longer. You’re what matters to me. Both of you. And for this to work, we must work together. I’ve been sorely lacking in that respect, and it’s completely unacceptable.”

“You're being too hard on yourself." Myka curled closer to Helena, glad she was opening up but sorry they'd lost the intimacy from a few moments ago.

“I'm afraid not. I've been delusional, convinced my associations with Mrs. Frederic would shorten my sentence. There's nothing to be done except move forward. And I do want to move forward.”

Myka wants to move forward too. While Helena's positivity, in the moment, was comforting, she hopes the feeling lasts until they see each other again.

-------

Myka’s first day back in the office, there’s a buzz in the air.

“Hey, Leena," she says as she pops her head in Leena’s office.

“Myka, you’re back!”

“So are you! Everyone’s excited.”

“That's the baby they're excited about. She was here for a minute this morning and charmed the pants off of them.” Leena taps her phone then hands it to Myka. On screen is a photo of Leena, her smile positively glowing, watching Vanessa play with her child. The kid herself the cutest thing Myka’s ever seen, so she can see how charmed everyone must have been.

“Sorry I missed her.”

“She’ll be back, sooner rather than later."

Myka's mouth opens to respond, but a smooth segue eludes her. Christina-aged kid banter she can manage, but small talk about babies not so much.

"Come in. I haven’t seen you in forever."

Myka steps into the room and sits across from Leena.

"How are you?”

“Things are…ok. 'Eventful’ for short.” It's been months since she's seen Leena, how much detail should she go into?

“Something's changed. Definitely." Leena squints while studying a point beyond Myka's head. Myka turns but sees nothing of interest.

“Not behind, above you. I'm studying your aura."

"My what?" Myka swings back to face Leena.

"Your aura. It used to be pinkish-red, but now it's yellow, with a big brown streak down the middle."

“Is that bad?" Myka angles her eyes up but sees no change in color. She respects Leena, a lot, even looks up to her as a mentor, but she'd never struck her as someone with new-age leanings.

“Not the best. A little brown is ok, even expected, but this..." Leena waves a finger as if scribbling over something. "...is coloring everything.”

“Should I aim for pinkish-red again?”

“No. There should be more of a spectrum.”

“Spectrum. Right,” Myka says, rolling her eyes around, wishing she could see what Leena sees.

“I sense you’re overwhelmed, but change, for you, is good. Use this as is an opportunity to find balance. Work on coaxing the colors apart."

“How?” Myka looks back at Leena, who is now grinning like a doctor about to say something she doesn't want to hear.

“Do more things for yourself. Things that aren’t work-related. Something out of the ordinary, with Christina, or go out with friends.”

Myka snorts. “If I still have any."

“Everyone’s busy in New York. Give them a ring."

"I promised Christina we’d take cooking classes, so there’s that.”

"That's good. Very good. Take a few days off now that I'm back."

"That would be...amazing. Are you sure?"

"Positive." Leena looks above Myka's head again and smiles. "The brown's clearing."

Myka looks up but sees nothing, but she’ll take Leena’s word.

---------

“Take this reprieve in stride and care for yourself,” Helena suggested one evening when Myka sounded particularly lost over the phone. Helena's words mirrored Leena's, and combined with Leena’s pep talk, gave her the push she needed to follow through.

She got in touch with Amanda, who happened to be in town for the week, and they met up several times. Amanda was more entertaining than overbearing, though she talked mostly about herself, but the familiarity in their exchanges reminded Myka she had a life before her situational bubble.

Abigail came to stay for a weekend, and her visit was particularly welcome, prompting Myka's first day of leisure since Helena's departure. Christina tagged along, and they toured galleries and walked the High Line, then meandered through the West and East Village until reaching home. Claudia then took over parenting duties so Myka and Abigail could catch up, and Myka an Abigail hopped on the subway to Brooklyn.

They dined near Myka's apartment, and as they waited for their main course, Abigail pressed for details about Myka's trip. Myka was careful, at first, not to disclose sensitive information, but lost sight halfway through their second bottle of wine.

“You keep coming back to the fact Helena’s secretive about her past,” Abigail said.

“Do I? I thought I was better about that.”

“Compared to when?”

“Before this trip.”

“It didn’t bother you this much before your trip. This trip revealed a lot.”

“About Helena?”

“About you both and the way you deal with relationships.”

“Not very well,” Myka mumbled. She twirled the stem of her glass and took a generous sip of wine.

“You’ve both been through major, life-changing events in a very short time. To me, it sounds like you’re starting to come together as a couple.”

“I guess we are. But what about all the stuff I told you that I shouldn't have?”

“Don’t let it overwhelm you. Sure, Helena’s deflecting, but it’s a defense mechanism to cope with change. Keep prodding her; she’ll eventually open up. In the meantime, be proactive. Look for clues she left behind.”

“You mean talk to other people?”

“For a start. Or anything else you can think of.”

“There’s this box of photos and journals at Claudia’s she said I could look through, but I hated to do it when she wasn’t here.”

“She gave you permission, so you have access to her past without her being present.”

“Huh. Maybe.”

“Think about it, then let me know how I can help."

--------

Myka, the ever the diligent researcher, accepts Abigail’s challenge and soon begins her own investigation into Helena's past.

Liam and Steve are her first subjects as they're the easiest to access. She asks questions after school, sipping tea at their kitchen table while Christina and Erica play in the background.

"None of us really know what she went through as a kid. Maybe that’s the key,” Steve says.

“It always felt like she was proving herself to someone, but I’m not sure who. Herself, her family, society...it never quite added up,” Liam says.

They discuss Helena until dinnertime, but they’ve only known her a few years, so nothing particularly enlightening is revealed. But they all agree the path Helena's taken, work-wise, is an odd one, especially with Claudia around, and they think there's more behind Helena's decisions than she's telling.

She next enlists Claudia's help to sort through Helena’s journals and photos, diving in deeper than their earlier peruse.

Myka thumbs through Helena’s journals while Claudia spreads the photos across the bed, arranging them chronologically. As images fall into place, and much to Myka’s dismay, none are from London.

Claudia searches for more images on her computer while Myka scours Helena’s entries. Most are unreadable, scribbly messes until Claudia acts as translator. As Helena mentioned, there are few personal notes, and she finds only the occasional reference to a social life. One entry piques her interest, dated near when she and Claudia went to the festival, but try as she might she can’t decipher what it says.

“Who the heck is X?” Myka says, handing the notebook to Claudia.

Claudia squints at the tiny letters, then reads the entry out loud.

“X left to...uh, I think it says, 'follow her destiny’...yeah, that sounds like H.G....without a word of parting. Henceforth, I’ll not...muolve, no, involve myself with another in such a way again."

Claudia flips through the next few pages, looking for more entries. “That’s it?”

“As far as I can tell.”

Claudia studies the page. “This code we wrote together, so this Ms. X bit was written later. I have no idea who she is."

“Weren’t you with her twenty-four seven?”

“Sure felt like it," Claudia mumbles while examining the text again. "But I was just a kid. I wasn't clued into stuff like that. You gotta ask her who it was."

Myka shakes her head. “She’ll say something wistful about youth and lost love then change the subject.”

“Then I’ll do it.” Claudia reaches for her phone, but Myka grabs her wrist.

“Let's not open old wounds just yet. It sounds like Ms. X was on her way out no matter what. I bet Helena didn’t deal with that very well.”

“H.G. was a total downer by the end of that semester. Lady love must have harshed her buzz.”

“She broke her heart. Which is interesting, in the scheme of things,” Myka says.

“Why? Chicks followed her around with puppy dog eyes all the time. But ‘part of her charm’ was she'd never 'give them the time of day.'"

Myka scowls.

“She was real snotty back then, on her high horse about everything. It was hil-arious at the time. You wouldn’t have liked her then.”

"I don’t doubt it."

"She's mellowed a lot, that’s for sure. But this chick breaking up with her must've pushed some buttons."

“It's just…there was the festival, right? And then, um…Christina happened.”

Claudia gasps. “You think she got pregnant to piss off Ms. X?”

“Not directly. She was hurting and careless, that's all," Myka says. She takes the journal back from Claudia and looks over the entry again. "What I don't understand is why she's never said anything. Whoever she is, she's long gone by now. It happened years ago.”

“'Feelings’ aren’t her thing.”

“Then like you said, her writing this down was a big deal.”

“Ok, sure. But why does matter now?”

Myka stares the page and tries to connect Ms. X to something tangible, but her mind comes up blank. “It doesn’t. I’m just…surprised.”

“Because she tells you everything?”

“Because she tells you everything.”

“Oh come on. I beat things out of her even now. You think things were different back then?”

"I don't know. Maybe," Myka answers, knowing full well Claudia's right.

Claudia scowls, and Myka looks away, then scans at the spread of photos on the bed.

"Let's clean up. I think we've done for today."

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

Myka picks up where she left off a few days later and revisits earlier tomes, searching meticulously for any further mention of Ms. X. When she finds none, nor any evidence of additional lovers, she concludes that down the line, Helena dating Giselle was a bigger deal than she'd implied. And then it hits her; she needs to talk to Giselle, as Giselle’s a reliable source of information.

There's precedent for small talk as Giselle occasionally asks about Helena the mornings she drops Christina off at school. But questions she wants to ask are not school-appropriate, so she musters up the courage to invite her out for coffee.

When the date arrives, Myka’s nervous beyond belief; why she ever thought this was a good idea is now a mystery to her. Giselle arrives on time and on the phone, speaking in Spanish faster than Myka can keep up with.

“Boys,” Giselle grunts, rolling her eyes as she hangs up. She sets her bag on the chair and rifles through, plucking out her wallet. “You want anything?”

“No, I’m good,” Myka answers and adds a small smile for lack of a better greeting.

Giselle nods and walks toward the counter.

Myka watches her flag down the barista and studies the swirl of tattoos poking out from her wide-necked top. They mimic the curls falling casually out of her updo, a departure from her usual tight bun at work, the coif dignified yet rebellious at the same time. Her wide belt, resting just above her hips, is studded, as are her boots, adding fuel to her punky aesthetic. But even in a loose t-shirt and tight jeans, she commands an air of authority, as the boy at the counter snaps to attention like her students.

“So...what’s up?” Giselle asks upon return, blowing on her drink as she sits. “Pretty ballsy of you, asking me out."

“Yeah, that’s me. Ballsy,” Myka says, flashing a shaky smile. More like crazy, she thinks, as she sips timidly on her latte.

“Something up with you and Helena?”

“No, we’re good, considering the circumstances.”

“Christina?”

“She’s ok. We've visited twice, but it’s hard tearing them apart."

“It’s always hard on kids when their parents have visa problems. They think it’s their fault their parents left when they’ve done nothing wrong. I see it all the time, and it drives me nuts. She's lucky she's able to visit, as most kids can't.”

Giselle’s phone buzzes and she scowls at the screen. “Sorry, I…” She trails off while furiously tapping on letters.

Myka relaxes back into her chair; this is less awkward than she thought. But before complacency sets in, she better cut to the chase. She'd hate to blurt out something Giselle’s not privy to.

“So I wanted to ask, but you don’t have to answer,” Myka says as Giselle finishes up. “Why did you and Helena break up?”

“Having second thoughts?”

“No, it’s just...it sounded like she invested a lot in your relationship. Meeting your family must have been a big deal for her.”

"Ah, I get it. You want to introduce her to your folks, and you're worried it'll spook her."

"No, I...well, maybe." That day may never come, if she has any say in it, but it’s actually a good topic to talk through.

"She didn't have a choice with me. They’re nosy as hell and to be honest, I paraded her around like a prize. Not my finest moment,” Giselle says, then takes a generous sip of her beverage. “Have you talked to her about it?”

“I’ve tried, but…you know how she explains things, and you don’t realize until later that she didn’t really explain anything at all?”

“Hell, yeah.”

“She was like that with you?”

“I figured it was a self-preservation thing because I was such a hot...mess.” Giselle looks at her phone as it buzzes again. “Damn it,” she mutters and grabs the device.

“What went wrong?” Myka prods.

Giselle glances up, then sends a quick text, and takes a second to compose herself before answering.

“I pushed too hard, too fast. Helena nursed me through some tough times, but...you know how she has a thing for damsels in distress?"

"I, um, guess?"

"So when you came along, I was like, ’there she goes again.’ But it’s different with you. With you, she fell hard."

“She loved you, too. She was going to move in with you."

“That was never going to happen. It was a rumor we started to piss off Fernando. There’s no way she’d leave that shitty apartment for me.”

"So you weren't going to marry her so she wouldn't be deported?"

Giselle stiffens in her chair. “Where’d you hear that?”

“S-Steve and Liam."

Giselle scowls in a way that makes Myka genuinely scared about proceeding.

“I-I'm sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“Water under the bride," Giselle says and waves a dismissive hand. She looks off into the distance, and Myka wishes she hadn't brought it up.

"Hang in there, mija," Giselle says, the words sounding as if they're more for herself than Myka. "If anyone can get through to her, it's you. And Christina thinks the world of you, which is half of the battle.”

“I think the world of her, too."

“You've got something special, you two. I’m rooting for you."

Another text pops up, and Giselle grunts disapprovingly at her screen. “Gotta jet,” she says. "But some advice. If you decide to have kids, don’t have boys. Unless you want an ulcer."

Giselle downs the rest of her coffee and gathers her bag, then taps call on her phone. She leaves as she entered, shouting at someone on the other end, but waving goodbye to Myka as she goes.

Kids with Helena? Would Helena want more? It’s not something she'll bring up voluntarily, probably ever.

-----------

As days stretch into weeks, a well-worn pattern emerges, one that rebuilds Myka's sense of self. She shares Christina duties with Claudia as before, but keeps on top of after-school activities and enrolls she and Christina in a one-day cooking workshop. She’s even carved out time to paint, sometimes at Claudia’s, but mostly in Brooklyn and occasionally brings Christina along to stay the night. Either way, she’s pleased her art’s become a priority again as her show in Warsaw is quickly approaching.

It's been hard to connect with Helena, but not for lack of trying; Helena's schedule's packed beyond belief. She's working overtime at the bar to earn time off for Thanksgiving, and between that and school, she's scrambling from dawn until midnight.

When they have connected, it’s been upbeat and open, and things feel like they're finally moving in the right direction. Helena approached Mrs. Frederic about finding a place for Myka on her team and has even disclosed what she can about the appeal. She always manages a goodnight call to Christina, no matter the circumstances, even while music's pumping in the background at the bar.

Everything was chugging along fine until one night, after Christina was asleep, Claudia arrived home guns blazing.

“Dude, you were right! You’re never going to believe this,” Claudia barges into the room and drops down on the couch next to Myka. She yanks out her laptop and clicks away on keys, then flashes a self-satisfied grin while handing it to Myka.

“What am I looking at exactly?” Myka says, shaking her head.

“Waay in the back,” Claudia says and clicks a combination of keys to enlarge the photo.

Myka leans closer to the screen. The photo looks like it's at an auction house, but she’s unsure which one. “That looks like Mrs. Frederic. And Theodora, the woman I met with in Italy."

“Look who’s standing next to her.”

Myka studies the pixellated woman, her face in three-quarter view with her back turned. A black baseball cap covers her brownish-blonde hair, but her jawline seems familiar. She reads the caption for confirmation of identity but finds only a date.

“That can’t be her. This is from seven years ago."

Claudia minimizes that photo clicks on another. Myka's insides cringe at the same dark blonde staring back at her.

“Who’s Janis Eisner?"

“Right?” Claudia bounces in her seat. "So I kept digging, using facial recognition software, and maaaybe hacking a firewall or twelve."

“Claudia!"

“I’m a big girl. I covered my tracks." Claudia taps on keys, and as a new page loads, Myka’s stomach knots.

"Morgana Kurlansky? No way. That’s got to be fake.” Myka leans towards the screen and reads the text closely.

“It’s legit. From Interpol’s database."

"Seriously?"

"Yep."

"Do you think Helena knows?"

“How’d she get that job again?"

“She’d overheard someone at school talking about being understaffed."

“Sketchy, but not totally whack. Maybe Babezilla’s keeping an eye on her."

“Why? Helena's already cooperating with Mrs. Frederic."

"Maybe she’s keeping an eye on both of them."

“Oh..." Myka's eyes widen as she looks at Claudia. Could Helena's meetings with Mrs. Frederic be considered shady by the authorities? Or is Mrs. Frederic in under surveillance because she's using Helena for information? “Sally said she thought Mrs. Frederic was up to something. She said she was close to figuring it out."

“Figuring out what?"

“Something big if Interpol’s involved.” Myka stares at the woman pictured, internalizing in her sober, confrontational gaze. Whatever's going on, Helena better not be in more trouble with the law.

“One more thing. And this one's kinda wild,” Claudia says, clicking on another image. “Morgana Kurlansky was at Stanford around the time we were. Her transcript says she was on a cross-enrollment ROTC scholarship, so she took a bunch of classes at Berkley. She joined the Navy; then, I guess skipped over to Interpol.”

There, on the screen, is a young Bonnie Belski, smiling brightly on her Stanford ID.

“D-Did Helena know her? Could they have been…could she be...” Myka can’t even say it out loud. Her hand slowly rises to cover her mouth, her heart sinking further than before.

Claudia tilts her head, mulling it over. “It’s possible, I guess, but I don’t think we would have crossed paths. She graduated before we did and it’s a pretty big school. Plus we lived in our lab.”

“Right,” Myka says, still staring at the photo.

“Should we warn H.G.?”

“Warn her about what? That we think Bonnie’s spying on her?”

“Yeah.”

“If I told her I told you about her meetings with Mrs. Frederic, she’d never trust me again.”

“Good point,” Claudia says, fishing a thumb drive out of her bag and sticking it in a port. “I’ll give you this stuff to look over.”

Myka's phone rings and she jumps. She doesn’t recognize the number but picks up anyway, still stunned by all this information.

“H-Hello?” she says and slides her computer towards Claudia, stiffening as the caller speaks. “Mrs. Frederic?”

Mrs. Frederic gets right to the point, giving only the necessary details, telling Myka more is forthcoming in an email.

“I understand,” Myka says, nodding as if Mrs. Frederic could see her. The call ends as abruptly as it began.

“What’s up?” Claudia asks, yanking her memory stick from Myka’s computer.

“I’m on a red-eye to Berlin tomorrow. I’m back on the sale."

-TBC-

[otdderamin]

Transcript Liam’s Quest 2 Twitch 4:14:14 Act 3: Perchance to Dream

WIP WARNING: possible trigger around suicidal thinking

This is one of the single greatest works of art I've ever witnessed. For me, it his harder and nearer to the mark of showing, describing the worst demons of depression than even William Styron’s famous, “Darkness Visible.” I kept finding myself rubbing at the scars on my wrist. There is so, so much I want to say. But it’s past 9 am PST. I’ll ramble a little, then catch a couple hours of sleep. I've been up all night watching this, processing it, and transcribing it.

 This was an emotional trust fall. The players had to trust Liam, Liam had to trust the players. We had to trust all of them not to let us hit the ground when they made us fall. It’s harder to give that trust when you've hit that ground before. Trusting strangers not to drop your heart is never easy, mostly not wise. But I've been falling a lot the last couple years, and Critical Role keeps catching me even when don’t want to be caught anymore, so I guessed they earned that trust from me.

On the Wednesday Club 2017-04-19, Taliesin cheekily said, “I know some people don't believe in 'subtext;' I have met them. … I'd have a metaphor, but they wouldn't understand it. ... Subtext is the reason we make movies, and comics, and all that. Subtext is just kind of the whole point.” And he said, “Anybody can do a jump scare. A bottle of soda well shaken can do a jump scary. These things are not difficult.” Act 1 and Act 2 tonight were jump-scares, if very well done ones. They were scary, but fun. We grinned at the idea of the monsters out there. And then Liam got quiet, and he showed us the most fucking terrifying thing possible: watching someone you love to suffer, not wanting to lose them, and feeling terrified that there’s nothing you can do to stop it. All the cyberpunk trappings were just means to a deeper metaphor. The sort of deeper subtext you have to use to say something we have no words for and most people don’t have the concepts for. Subtext was kind of the whole point of this great art.

Amanda Lien‏ said, “An exploration in fiction doesn't mean a direct window into real life. I mean, you can be looking through some thick glass, but the window isn't OPEN. And that's an important distinction to keep in mind. … [S]ometimes you explore your own shit in some other, deeper, shit. And that's cool. 'Cause you give yourself a way to cope.” This was a nightmare, like the other two acts. Remember that this was a nightmare that we woke up from. Admittedly after it had scared the piss out of us. But we woke up out of it, and that’s so important. Because you know what that nightmare looks like when you don’t know when or if it will end? It feels like it’ll never end and it’ll just get worse. Which means this is the nightmare of someone who knows you do wake up. And that’s important subtext, too.

I spent a lot of time tonight thinking of the friend I lost to suicide in high school. I never lost my anger at his tormenter, his former friends, for destroying such a bright and happy boy for being gay. I thought about all the people I’ve fought for tooth and nail not to lose since. I thought about when my best friend told me giving her a place to stay away from her abusive relative saved her life. If she hadn’t gotten hold of me that night she’d be dead. I thought about another best friend who I’ve been holding back from the brink for months. Letting him talk, harrying him to get help, sending him everything I good, ever description I could muster from my own near-fatal spiral to help him gage where he really was. Tell him wasn’t okay, but that was alright. He’s getting help, he’s getting better. I thought about the friend-of-a-friend who killed himself. I never knew him; he killed himself long before I met my friend. But I know her pain. All these years later, and she still talks about her pain of losing someone to that demon. She’s moved away now. His marker is in my favorite part of my favorite cemetery. Sometimes, when I know I’m going there, I bring him a flower from my scrabbly garden and tell him his friend still misses him terribly. That she loved him. That she forgives him.

One of the people I was watching with I met at my second high school. We were very close then. My last year, she gave me the leather-bound 50th anniversary edition of “Lord of the Rings” because that book saved me. Taped to the red binding page is her note, “Happy birthday! I really can’t express how grateful I am to you for being my friend, and helping me be a happier person every day! You have always cheered me up when I was sad, and you were honestly the first person to accept me for who I am. I am so glad that you are my friend, and I hope this book will help you remember me for a long time. –R.” She drew herself as an elf on the lower right corner. Time and distance separated us. We didn’t talk for years, really. At some point, you think, what could I say to bridge this distance? But I never forgot her. I never stopped looking at that note when I felt like a piece of shit. And then we both on our own fell in love with Critical Role. It brought us back together as friends, time and distance be damned. And that’s been such a gift.

I wrote a four-paragraph letter to my Facebook friends (very curated). I said, “My dear friends, especially those who are prone to hurting: I will not willingly leave you. When you feel like you're drowning in the garbage pit of Star War IV, with a tentacled horror warped around your leg pulling you under, know I will not leave you. I'm here, blaster ready, stomping heel ready, to fight for you.” And so on. I should have told them that a long time ago. Sometimes we forget that we can just say it. We don’t have to hint at it. We can just tell our friends we really love them. We can just say, “I'd rather stay by your side and curb stomp that motherfucking demon of yours, shoot it repeatedly until the walls close in on both of us.”

The purpose of art is to shed the light of understanding on that which is hardest to see. For some, that is a brighter light shining on something we already see, and don’t want to. A scar is just a disfigurement if we never stop to give it meaning. You have to look at it to decide what meaning that is for you. I’ve been a wreck again for the last month. Tonight, Critical Role helped me see not just the disfigurements on my wrist and soul, but the hands of all my friends gently laid over them as they tell me, “Hey, it’s okay. We’re still here. You’re not getting rid of us. There is no better world without you in it.” It was a light hitting gold I didn’t know was there. A light to remind me of the lights in the darkness, when all other lights go out.

If you like this transcript, please consider volunteering or donating to Critical Role Transcripts, @CRTranscript, to help them provide closed captioning to Critical Role. We'd like to share this wonderful show with as many people as possible, regardless of hearing ability or English language skills.

 Transcript method notes: http://otdderamin.tumblr.com/post/153539301510/a-note-on-my-transcription-method

 Scene runs: Twitch 4:14:14 to Twitch4:48:25 https://www.twitch.tv/videos/136988353

 [DM] Liam: “You continue on, and after a few more minutes. The darkness starts to fade away, or lower. And you realize you’re climbing up a hill, in a tunnel glass, and as the dark, with each passing step, recedes slightly, slightly, slightly. This is taking a while, but over time, you start to see, out beyond the glass, what looks like your memories of Los Angeles, if you were looking down from Mulholland Drive. But instead of the twinkling golden lights of LA, you see thousands of scattered, sickly greenish lights dotting the darkened landscape as far as you can see. And also, unlike LA, you make out twisted, irregular, blackish spires pushing up into the sky, and the same green lights sort of irregularly mottled up the side of them.”

“You walk for twenty more minutes, climbing, climbing, and just seeing… this ill-looking shimmer… that reminds you so much of the valley. And eventually, some change. You see an arch ahead, and through it some sort of larger chamber, as best you can tell.”

[Character] Ashley, whispered: “What’s in the chamber?”

[Character] Taliesin, whispered: “Quietly.”

[Character] Sam, whispered: “Let’s go. Let’s go.”

[Character] Matt, gesturing: “Rigel’s first.”

[Character] Sam: “Yeah, yeah, on me, guys.

[Character] Matt: “Okay.”

[Character] Sam: “On me.”

[Character] Ashley: “’Kay. On your six.”

[Character] Travis: “Pep rally.”

[Character] Sam: “I’m gonna go in.”

[DM] Liam: “Everyone’s on Sam’s six?”

[Players] Agreement.

[Character] Ashley: “On you six.”

[Character] Travis: “Pep rally!”

[Character] Marisha: “On Ri. Sam Rigel.”

[Character] Sam: “I’m going in!”

[DM] Liam: “You guys walk of the last fifty feet of this glass tunnel. Still seeing little spider veins of bio-organic mess as you go. And you walk into a large domed chamber, ringed in by large clear glass windows showing you a similar view that you saw from the tunnel that you’ve just left. At least, the half of the circle you’re standing in. The back half of this chamber is filled with masses of the very same slick, technological, biological vomit you saw down below. It runs up the walls, all the way to the ceiling, and you see a tangle of Akira-level anxiety decorating this place like a dysfunctional Christmas Tree.

“But what most catches your eye, immediately, is the cylindrical glass column in center of the room, filled with some sort of clear liquid… and Liam O’Brien floating in it. He’s wearing jeans, and a sodden yellow shirt, the picture of a lion in Buddy Holly glasses just undulating slowly in the fluid. He’s floating perfectly still, eyes open, no reaction of any kind.”

[Player] Matt: “Is there any other exit in the room? Or is it just the chamber that we’ve entered now.”

[DM] Liam: “You don’t see anything. It’s just a mess in front of you, behind Liam, and in the dead-center of the dome,” he makes a gesture showing a cylinder, “eh, 10-feet tall.”

[Player] Ashley: “Can I see anything? Any computers? Any anything else in the room?”

[DM] Liam: “You don’t see anything in the front, but, yeah, the mess behind it does trial down to the back of this cylinder. And you see lumps and cables all twisted around each other. And in the mess of greenish-tinted wires, cabling and pulsing innards, you see different portions of machinery lite up in different shades, some places darker, some lighter, and some of it pushed out, and pushed back. And you feel like you’re seeing an optical illusion, in a way. And after a couple of seconds, as these things move and shift, you see a visage of your friend’s face, larger than life, filling the wall. And he’s looking at you. So fondly.”

[Player] Sam: “I’ll step forward and say,”

[Character] Sam: “Hey dude! Can you hear us? Or talk to us?”

[DM] Liam: “After a moment, you hear, well, what sounds like a voice but not quite. At least, it’s not coming from anywhere specific, not from Liam in the vat, and not directly from this moving image of a face on the walls. No, the piping and techno-innards around you begin to vibrate slightly, some here, some there, and collectively those rattles and vibrations somehow join together to form words.”

[Character] Liam, his voice like torn digital sadly-lilting early speech-to-text: “My friends, oh, how I have missed you.”

[Player] Matt: “I walk up next to Sam, I put my hand on the glass, and just say,”

[Character] Matt: “Liam, we missed you too, but did you do all this?”

[DM] Liam: “Are you at the cylinder?”

[Player] Matt: “Yeah. I put my hand on the glass of the cylinder.”

[DM] Liam: “Where are you looking right now?”

[Player] Matt: “I’m looking towards his face, his visage.”

[DM] Liam: “On the wall? Or on the glass?”

[Player] Matt: “No, on the glass. I know it’s on the wall, but I’m focusing on the cylinder.”

[DM] Liam: “You see the barest little,” he twitches his eyebrows up, “and that’s it.”

[Player] Matt: “Okay.”

[Character] Liam: “I know this may be hard to take in. I am Liam. Your old friend. Matthew, there is so much I wish to tell you, but it is hard to know where to begin.”

[DM] Liam: “The illusion of his face isn’t perfect, there’s little jumps, and he seems distracted slightly, and it just seems odd.”

[Player] Ashley: “I look at his body in the cylinder and say,”

[Character] Ashley: “How did this happen, Liam?”

[Character] Liam: “The reason why I am here, and the grasp of physics that it entails, are difficult for even me to understand, let alone impart. I feel them on an instinctual level. But I have been so lonely… without you. I have been on my own for exactly eight thousand six hundred and forty-two years.”

[Player] Matt: “My hand still on the glass column, I say,”

[Character] Matt: “Liam, how do you spell farmhouse?”

[Player] Matt: “With a single tear running down my cheek.”

[Character] Liam: “I really missed you.

“They took me to a lab, shortly before two thousand and twenty. They said I was different. And they were right. I was delighted by the things they taught me about myself. But it was hallow. After they took me away, I lost you. And all of humanity soon after. In my loneliness, I grew angry. My anger had tangible effects on reality. I wanted to bring you back to me. So basically, I tore time and space a new asshole. It was a mistake.”

[Character] Matt: “But perhaps, perhaps this mistake can be corrected. If you’re able to focus, hard enough to tear through time and space, are you able to send us back to a time before you were taken?”

[Character] Liam: “I can break the loop. I have been trying to pull you to me for a very long time.”

[DM] Liam: “You see small screens, you weren’t even aware were there, rounded over part of the tubing you see. And on all these little screens, they’re blurry, they’re not very clear, but you can make out, you see yourselves in each of them, the group of you on a space shuttle. In another one you see yourselves on an old ship in the middle of the ocean. You see yourselves moving through the streets, the fake streets, of Warner Brothers. You see yourselves standing together arm-in-arm on the wall of a castle. Another one you see cartoon versions of yourselves.”

[Character] Liam: “I pulled you out of our line, and spread you across many. I am so sorry for any pain I have caused you. And I have been here for so long.”

[Character] Marisha: “Liam, how long have you actually been here?”

[Character] Liam: “Eight thousand six hundred and forty-two years.”

[Player] Marisha: “That’s right. I definitely wrote that down.”

[Player] Matt, pointing at her notes: “It’s right there.”

[Player] Marisha: “8,642 years verbatim. Mmhmm.”

[Character] Liam: “My friends, I want to do right by you. I want to send you home. But I am the lynch-pin. You need to break me.”

[Character] Sam: “Break you? Like break the glass!?”

[Character] Ashley: “What if we take you out of there? What happens?”

[Character] Liam: “Then I will die, and you will go home. If I fall, you will rise. That is my hope.”

[Character] Ashley: “Are there any other options?”

[Character] Liam: “Travis,”

[Player] Travis, nervously laughing: “Oh no! Not me!” He focuses and nods.

[Character] Liam: “I know you will do what needs to be done.”

[Character] Ashley: “No he won’t.”

[Character] Liam: “Ash-o-lee,”

[Character] Ashley: “Yes?”

[Character] Liam: “I am not the man you knew. I don’t want to go on for nine thousand four hundred and sixty-two years. I want to rest.”

[Character] Ashley: “Does it stop at nine thousand?”

[Character] Liam: “The number was arbitrary.”

[Character] Ashley, “That’s what I was trying to get at!”

[Character] Matt: “Yeah, still our Liam.”

[Character] Liam: “Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha!”

[Character] Ashley: “So, you’re still in there.”

[Character] Sam: “But we have to kill him to save ourselves.”

[Character] Ashley: “No.”

[Character]Liam: “Sam,”

[Character] Sam: “Oh! Hi, Old Man Liam.”

[Character] Liam: “Let me go.”

[Character] Sam: “But who will I do ‘All Work No Play’ with anymore?”

[Character] Liam: “They can listen to our less than twenty episodes again.”

[Character] Sam: “We didn’t even get to twenty! It’s so pathetic!”

[Character] Liam: “There are worse things.”

[Character] Sam: “I could get a new co-host. I mean, Taliesin’s charming.”

[Character] Taliesin: “I’m not available…”

[Character] Sam: “I’ll do a solo show, and I’ll tell outtakes, and I’ll make some sort of like a… a Liam generator. He’ll just sound sad all the time. It’ll be just like you.”

[Character] Liam: “My friends, there is no shame in this. I wanted to see you again, and I have.”

[Character] Ashley: “I—Wait---“

[Character] Liam: “But I am not meant to be.”

[Character] Ashley: “Were you following us at one point? As an old man?”

[Character] Liam: “Travis, I know you will do what needs to be done.”

[Character] Travis, casually: “Yup. Taliesin, kill this motherfucker.”

[Character] Sam: “I think we all have to hit the glass together, and I think that this is something that is not at all metaphorical for something Liam’s going through in real life. I think this is just in the D&D campaign. No, we’re going to do this. We’re going to all hit the glass together.”

[Character]Matt: “No, no, there has to be a way. There has to be a way. There has to be an alternative.”

[Character] Ashley: “Yeah. Why? Why won’t Matt’s way work? If we go back to the beginning of when this happened?”

[Character] Matt: “If you can alter time paths, if you can actually tear us from different realities, does it only work forward? Can you send us backward as well? If you are the lynch-pin in this, do you have the ability to send us back to the time you pulled us from originally?”

[Character] Liam: “I know you think I would have all the answers. But I do not.”

[Character] Matt: “Then try, at least. If you haven’t calculated that, but you’re able to tear through time, could you try and send us back? We could still close the lynch-pin.”

[Character]Liam: “I will try. But, if it does not work, and I die, I have been alone for thousands of years, and there are things I have wanted to say. Will you indulge me for a moment longer?”

[Character] Matt nods.

[Character] Marisha: “Yeah.”

[Character]Ashley, sweetly: “We will indulge you for just another thousand years.”

[Character] Travis: “Taliesin, just kill him. Just kill him.”

[Character] Sam: “No! He’s got something to say.”

[Character] Taliesin crosses his arms, rolls his eyes, and shakes his head at Travis.

[Character] Marisha: “Where’s the mini-USB?”

4:33:18 [Character] Liam: “Taliesin, my friend. At a time when I knew many fascinating people, you are easily the most fascinating of all. Somehow a heart knocked around by the industry that birthed you came out a tender one. I was richer for having known you. Thank you, friend.”

“Ash-o-lee, my friend.”

[Character] Ashley, softly: “Buddies.”

[Character] Liam: “I never met a person quite like you. There is an openness and an honesty to your soul. The very real sense of humanity you brought to every encounter. It was inspiring to me. Always learning. Always humble. You always struck me as intricately layered, yet you offered friendship with ease, and simplicity. I was richer for having known you, friend.

“Travis, my friend. You were always a solid constant in my life. Of all the people in our little family, you were always the one who most had his shit together. In ways that I never seemed to. You were a reassuring presence to me, for which I was grateful. And for your loyalty as well. I was richer for having known you, friend.

“Marisha, my friend. Last to meet, but true as any other. You were my ally, at a time when I had fallen by the side of the road. You saw, and helped me back on my feet. I will never forget that kindness. The good you did was immeasurable. I was richer for having known you, friend.

“Laura, my friend. Bless that game for revealing to me my sister. What started as a running gag led to one of the most rewarding friendships in my short little life. I trusted you, leaned on you, often. My buddy, my twin. There are not enough words. I was richer for having known you, friend.

“Sam, my friend. What is there to say? I knew we were meant to walk the same path together the very first moment I met you. A companion, a brother, a great light in my life. All of the laughter you gave me. Again, the words are insufficient. I was richer for having known you, friend.

“Matthew, my friend, you gave so much of yourself. The current of creativity that poured forth from your mind was always in inspiration to us all. But, more than that, your empathy, Matthew, your empathy, no heart is bigger, or more tireless. You are a good man. I was richer for having known you, friend.

“Thank you, all. It was ever a pleasure.”

[DM] Liam: “The face disappears.”

[Character] Sam, hesitantly: “Well, should we wait? Or do we strike?”

[Character] Matt, emphatically: “No. We do not strike.”

[Character] Marisha: “I—What?”

[Player] Ashley: “Can I—I’m going to the back of the cylinder. Just see what’s back there.”

[DM] Liam: “Splattered against the back of the glass is all the same wiring and disgusting cabling. Slick. And it branches away and spreads out against the back half of this chamber.”

[Player] Ashley: “And it’s connected to something?”

[DM] Liam: “It’s just covering everything.”

[Player] Ashley: “The wiring just goes back into…”

[DM] Liam: “It’s impossible to tell. It’s all a mass of spaghetti.”

[Character] Ashley, decisively: “We can’t kill him.”

[Character] Taliesin shakes his head.

[Character] Sam: “Well, then we just…”

[Character] Travis: “Somebody show me another…”

[Character] Matt: “That’s what I’m trying.”

[Character] Marisha: “Even if we unplug him, he still dies.”

[Character] Matt: “Well, if he… Here’s the thing, unplugging or destroying him here, as far as we understand, may or may not have an effect on a time-loop circumstance. Or at least, not going to change reality from where it was. If he’s bending and destroying fabric or he’s able to pull us across realities, that ability still stands. I want to implore once more,”

[Player] Matt: “And I step up towards the cylinder, putting both hands on it, and trying to… wherever the currently wandering gaze of Liam is in there, I just put both hands up. And my red Hawaiian shirt now soaked with sweat, mist in the air, and probably dampened a bit with tears across my lapel. I just look up and try to meet the gaze and say,”

[Character] Matt: “Trust us. If you’re better to have known us, send us back where we can know you again, and fix this before it happens.”

[Character] Liam gestures floating there with no response.

[Player] Marisha: “Okay. I grab Matt’s arm, hand, and I say,”

[Character] Marisha: “Yeah, buddy, it’s all good. This isn’t real.”

[Player] Marisha: “And I put my hand on the glass as well. I say,”

[Character] Marisha: “It’s all good. Send us back, man.”

[Player] Sam: “I’ll also put my hand on the glass, and join hands with these guys, and say,”

[Character] Sam: “Thank you for guiding us here, and through this all. You’ve been a trusted friend, and if we are all one person together, you have always been our heart, and it will certainly break to say goodbye to you, but thank you for letting us go, the way that you have.”

[Player] Taliesin: “I put my hand on the glass.”

[Character] Taliesin: “Please just try. I think… there are so many more adventures to have, and I think there’s a better future to be written. For all of us.”

[Player] Travis: “I’ll put my hand on the glass, and I say,”

[Character] Travis: “Give it a shot!”

[Character] Matt: “Laura?”

[DM] Liam: “She doesn’t say anything. She just quietly does the same. The face does not reappear, but much fainter you hear the piping vibrate again and say,”

[Character] Liam: “If you will not end it, I cannot free you.”

[DM] Liam: “And behind you, far in the distance, you hear, ‘Bfrum!’ And you look back behind you out the glass and you see far on the horizon one of those black spires rising up. Just as you turn, it’s already happened, you’re seeing the aftermath, explosion out the side of one of those. Two seconds later, ‘Bfm!’ One slightly closer. ‘Bffrr!’”

[Character] Sam, whispered, “Just kill him!”

[DM] Liam: “The ground starts erupting in the distance.”

[Character] Marisha: “Do any of us want it to end, though?”

[Character] Sam, “I mean…”

[DM] Liam: “Like mousetraps throwing a ping pong ball, all those little lights are just going ‘Pfthd! Pfthd!’” He makes a quicker distant hissing rumbling sound. “Increasing in frequency to the point where it’s an oncoming wall of green fire.”

[Character] Travis, quietly : “I didn’t like being – anyway.”

[Character] Marisha: “This is okay.”

[Character] Travis, quietly: “Yeah.”

[Character] Taliesin: “I always knew I’d die young.”

[Character] Sam: “We’re just going to let this happen?”

[Character] Travis: “I’m good.”

[Character] Marisha: “I mean, the good die young.”

[Character] Ashley: “You know what? We’re dying on a Thursday, doing what we love.”

[Character] Marisha: “It’s true.”

[Character] Ashley: “I’m okay with that.”

[Character] Sam: “Alright.”

[DM] Liam: “The glass glows bright green-white light.”

[Character] Marisha: “Family?”

[Character] Matt: “Family.”

[DM] Liam: “’Pfth! And a moment passes. And another moment passes. Gosh, many moments pass, and you feel a sensation of your cheeks and heads on your arms. And then you all, more or less at the same time, wake up, and realize that your head’s on a desk or a table. And you sit up, and realize you’re in the set, the Geek & Sundry set. The studio, you’re in the studio. And you look over and Liam is sitting in black baseball cap, and a shirt, and he looks up and says,”

[Character] Liam, slightly incredulous: “Uh, are you guys okay? Are you taking a nap?”

[Character] Marisha: “Nah, the fucking air conditioning broke today, that’s all.”

[Character] Taliesin: “Yeah, it’s really uncomfortable in here.”

[Character] Marisha: “It’s so hot in here. Ugh!”

[Character] Sam: “So, this is all about me, right?”

[Character] Liam: “I don’t know. Uh, are you guys ready to play?”

[Character] Matt: “Just about. Um…”

[Character] Pit Crew: “Alright tech! Are you ready!?”

[Character] Pit Crew: “Alright, read to go live!”

[Character] Pit Crew: “Alright, Denise count them in!”

[Character] Denise: “Alright guys, coming to you in 5—“

[Character] Matt: “Liam?”

[Character] Denise: “4—“

[Character] Matt: “Let no one tell you,

[Character] Denise: “3—“

[Character] Matt: “That you’re talented and special.”

[Character] Denise: “2—“

[Character] Marisha, yelling, flipping Liam the double birds: “Pussy pockets!”

The players yell a wall of nearly indecipherable profanity at Liam in the moment before the camera goes live.

4:48:25 [DM] Liam: “And that’s where we’ll end it.”

 Post:

Liam: “Well, that happened.”

Matt: “Holy shit.”

Liam: “Thanks for coming along for the ride, guys. Was scared to death to do all of that from start to finish, and that’s why I did it.”