#in forever ash is a doctor which is So Correct

[gayboss-too-close-to-the-sun]

This is a PSA to all Banana Fish fans- if you haven't watched Garden of Light and Forever by Yaki BF, you should. They're two separate animatic fanfictions for what the time after the story might have looked like. Garden of Light is absolutely heartbreaking, and Forever, while on the surface a happier story, has a focus on trauma that will destroy your emotions. If you devoured Banana Fish and need more, this is where to go. There are both English and Spanish versions of both stories, and you need to watch them.

(1) Yaki BF - YouTube

[eliashirsch]

God Tier Top Gun Fanfictions. A Masterlist. (3/3)

Part three of my fanfic recommendation! This one's for the best fics!

Winner Categories:

1. Best of the Best Authors (1/3)

2. Best of the Best Series (2/3)

3. Best of the Best Fics (3/3)

REMINDER! READ THE AUTHORS' TAGS AND WARNINGS!!!

Best of the Best Fics

Fics that shine bright as the stars. Make sure to check the author’s other works too!

ICEMAV

Kings of the Air by FabulaRasa @fabula-unica

Fighting and fucking: two things he did extraordinarily well. How could he have known what the effect would be when you combined the two?

This and COMPACFLT’s work directly inspired one of my works:) The writing quality is absolutely amazing. My favorite fics are those that have Ice returning to Top Gun and joining Mav as an instructor and this one just takes the whole motherfucking crown.

Indian Ocean. Present Day. by Jay Tryfanstone (tryfanstone)

Isolated on an aircraft carrier in the middle of the Indian Ocean, cut off from any source of information about the global political and environmental disaster which has engulfed the planet, Maverick and Goose struggle to make sense of an increasingly claustrophobic command structure and failing resources on board. When a refugee helicopter is spotted approaching the carrier, its pilot could be the catalyst for an explosive re-evaluation....

This fic man. This fic. It made me fall in love with post-apocalyptic fics. The writing style, the plot, Ice and Mav and Goose. Goose, man… Oh my god. If you read this fic you know why I’m still thinking about these boys’ fates. 

Rhinestone Cowboy by omnidirectional

That’s Doctor Iceman to you! Maverick bangs himself up and gets rescued by someone he didn’t expect. A Missing Scene featuring contrived situations, questionable life choices, gratuitous product placement, and shirtlessness. You know, everything you love about canon.

And it is absolutely everything I love about canon! I always love missing scenes or canon divergent. Not to say that I don’t enjoy AUs, but I love vibes like this the most where the story works alongside canon and elevates it to a whole other level. Mav and Ice and Slider feels correct.

Sleepless Nights by demiclar @demiclar / @slidersimp

Five times Maverick wakes himself up with nightmares and one time he's woken by someone else.

Fics about Mav’s grief over Goose’s death will always wreck me. This one in particular shows itself as a physical manifestation. I love love love all the guys stepping up and taking care of Mav, never once judging his pain. I’m a sucker for portrayals of the ugly side of grief.

Mal de Mer by saurora_borealis

"I thought you said you didn't get seasick, you little liar," Slider snaps. Maverick doesn't answer, head bowed, but Ice can see him shaking from here. Of all the times for Maverick to be sick, did it have to be on a night that Ice is ill too? Or: the carrier experiences some ocean turbulence. Even the most seasoned aviators fall prey to it.

This one has sort of the same vibe as the fic above. I never get tired of seeing the flyboys take care of each other<3

be my soulmate (and i'll be yours) by ChexMix

Of course Maverick dreams about finding his soulmate. Who doesn't? But he'd never imagined the possibility that it could be the Iceman. So when he catches sight of Ice's soulmark, it suddenly becomes all he can think about.

Classic Icemav soulmate AU. This is like exactly my type of angst and happy ending. Sometimes the things you’re familiar with are still the best:)

To Build a Home by LadyLanera @k9effect

Eighteen years before Top Gun Maverick, there was a home being built from ashes and ruin. When the dust finally settled and dusk fell, the house of cards collapsed, shattering three lives forever. Is it possible to rebuild, reclaiming the past in the future...when they're all hurtling towards their worst nightmare?

Goddddd. I love Mav’s character flaw in this. I love Ice’s maturity born from grief and sickness. I love Bradley’s anger and abandonment issues. I love that these three have hurt each other more than anyone ever could, but their love is still starkly present. My thoughts when I was reading this was that LadyLanera wrote their flaws so beautifully, making them human, and by doing so I understood their motivations and their actions. Amazing characterization. 

all is fair (in love and war) by dulcetines (evecstasy)

oh, ice, maverick bisa merasakan hati kecilnya meringis, ice, sori banget— hollywood menyelak lagi, kali ini dengan suara impersonasi terbaiknya: “teruntuk kuncen TOPGUN, yang mana di sana kuyakin matahari belum juga terbit sebersamaan dengan ditulisnya surat ini. aku ingin saat ini juga kau bersyukur tidak mesti mendengarkan slider ngorok di sampingmu. tuhan jesus. pria ini sudah kuanggap saudara sendiri, tapi terkadang ada saja hal-hal yang dilakukannya yang membuatku ingin menggulingkannya ke laut. kau apa kabar di sana? sudah berapa pilot yang kauhabisi egonya? apapun itu. jangan mati kebosanan dulu. aku bisa bilang begini karena surat-suratmu selalu mengancam demikian. ingat kau masih hutang makan malam denganku. dan sepuluh dolar. sampaikan salamku ke bayi itik. bilang aku kangen padanya. dan,” hollywood memalsukan dehem, sambil ia melanjutkan, “padamu juga. setiap detikku. ice.” begitulah.

Hehehehehe. Now this is more for me LMAO because as you can see, it’s written in Indonesian. Finding this fic in my mother language is like finding GOLD. Again, I love love love Icemav in their Top Gun era. This is for all of you Indonesian Top Gun enthusiast *blows a kiss* 

a higher fidelity by basedchamp

“C’mon.” Tori nudges him with an elbow. “C’mon. He’s cute. You can admit that one thing but you can’t admit this?” Gritting his teeth, Ice thinks very carefully about his next words. “He’s…” he trails off. “Some would say that…Mitchell is not. Unpleasant. To look at.” (Alternatively: the one where Ice and Mav learn to park bad, eat good, and love even better.)

Ice’s family, man… It’s refreshing to see them so supportive and loving. I’m guilty of making Ice’s backstory so tragic>:) But this one is heartwarming! I love the style and flow of the writing. It’s something that I want to achieve in my own writing as well, so kudos to basedchamp!

Tunnel Vision by brainjuicey (anzietyfreak) @brainjuicey

Instead of Ice biting the air in the locker room, he antagonises Mav by biting his neck, unknowingly setting off dormant Omega genes and sending him into heat. Everyone involved is forced to remain secure on base until they’ve investigated. AKA. Five Alphas, a Beta, and an Omega in heat, walk into an Air Base prison. Ramifications ensue. Alternative title, "Locked in Sex Jail With The Boys"

This scratched that specific part in my brain, man. ABO with the original cast of Top Gun? Sign me up, baby. Steamy and perfect. 

The Five People You Can't Escape in Heaven by V_Evergreen

Maverick dies, but it doesn't end there. Alternately: [“Hey, kiddo, are you with me?” Maverick opened his eyes and found that he could see. He blinked in the sudden light as his surroundings came into focus. Quite literally came into focus, as though everything around him was resolving into itself as he looked, deciding to form a lawn, flowerbeds, the tree trunk that he had been leant against. The sun was blinding overhead, high noon. In the distance, hazy and indistinct, he could make out a house. It looked vague, like a half formed memory but it was familiar. Just like the man crouched in front of him. “Dad?” He croaked.]

I was reading the original book (The Five People You Meet in Heaven) and came across this fic. Which in turn made me want to write my own rendition from the same idea.  That last chapter, man. It’s unreal how creative it is. A punch to the gut for sure.

(Here’s my fic if you want to read about it :) >> Estrellita)

He Ain't Heavy, He's My Brother by V_Evergreen

Five meetings between Thomas Kazansky and Ethan Hunt. Alternately: [Ethan heard the door click shut behind him and turned to ask after the papers when he was abruptly spun by a hand on his shoulder and pushed against the door. His first and immediate thought was that he was certainly being attacked. Kazansky had him pressed against the door, chest to chest, a hand around his wrist and then- oh. Oh no. He wasn’t being attacked at all, it was infinitely worse. He was being very thoroughly kissed. He pushed back against Kazansky’s chest and tried to think of something eloquent to say. “Um?”]

Another banger by V_Evergreen. Ice not knowing Mav has a twin and mistakenly kissing him is so funny. And the end is heartwarming as well. Love love love it.

Allies by Shearmouth

After getting shot down over a war-torn Iraq, Maverick makes some unlikely friends. They have something– a big something– in common. But all Mav really wants is Ice. Too bad he's half a world away, and even Mav can't run that on a shattered leg. Not with the infected chest wounds thrown in, at least.

Oh my goddddd. I keep being at a loss for words when describing these fics. It won’t do anyone good if all I wrote was goddd, oh mannn, it’s so goodddd. But it’s the truth. This one hits home so much. The risk and homophobia present when you’re in a place that punishes queer people for existing and being in love, how a single mistake will cost you your future. And it’s so heartwarming to see that even then, you’re not alone. Mav being helped to reunite with Ice and breaking down that since their relationship was private, Ice had to grief Mav alone. Man, oh man. 

There is a pain—so utter by CurSirrr

Pete Mitchell was fine. Completely fine. He didn’t feel dizzy with denial, or an utter trainwreck of hopelessness. He hadn’t shed a single tear or cried himself to sleep for the past week. His guts were twisting and turning, squeezing and cramping. His eyes were swollen and red, and his scalp hurt from his vicious hair tugs as he tried to understand the past week. OR Three times Bradley misses the chance to say goodbye before it is too late.

Just read the summary and prepare for a world of pain:) Ice’s canon death still haunts me. Good thing he’s sleeping away in his big house that he co-owns with Mav, regularly saves his husband’s ass, have barbeque Sunday with Bradley and Jake and the dagger squad, happy and healthy:))

keeping his cards close to his chest by Serie11 @oathkeeperoxas

It's not that Lucy wishes that her boss would be more open with her. It's that she quite literally knows nothing about the man, despite Admiral Kazansky being her CO for half a decade. Or: 5 times Ice successfully hid something from his staff, and 1 time Ice revealed his biggest secret

Love seeing Icemav seen through other people’s perspective. It adds so much to the universe. Ice and Mav being their usual old married couple while everyone around them suffers. Excellent.

'til I meet you there by adiduck (book_people) @adiduck

Maverick wakes up in the snow, helmet on, entire body aching intensely and parachute still attached. It takes him about half an hour of trekking through the snow to notice that there’s anything amiss. (Or: Maverick Mitchell is in the habit of talking to his ghosts. Usually, they don’t talk back.)

Mav’s journey through the underworld. This fic is just too creative😭Always a delight to see how loved Mav is. It’s so whimsical and confusing and so great.

the ships have come to carry you home by indigofudge

“Here it is,” Carole says, bringing Mav’s wheelchair to a stop. Mav’s mouth is dry. He aches for another cup of water. “Carole, tell me something, and don’t lie to me.” “Anything, Maverick.” “How bad does he look?” Carole is quiet for a while. Then she comes around and kneels in front of Mav, taking both of his hands in her own. Her eyes swim with tears. “If I didn’t know any better,” she says, voice breaking, “I’d think he was dead.” • Or, Goose is alive when they hit the water. That's enough.

Goose survives AU!!!! Huh? This isn’t canon? What are you talking about? Of course, Goose survives and the Bradshaw family is still whole and Mav still has his family and gets to have Ice too. What are you talking about??

Swallow by wildglitterwolf 

Ice is getting tired of Maverick's inability to be a team player. Maverick is annoyed by Ice's gum chewing. Ice is more than happy to get rid of it, he just needs a place to put it...

TT.TT Just… I didn’t know I like this dynamic so much…

HANGSTER

cruise control by res_judicata

Rooster’s plane goes down on a Tuesday.  Jake remembers that it’s a Tuesday because he had been out grabbing a quick bite for lunch with Javy and the little chalkboard on the wall of the cafe had proclaimed that Tuesday’s special was linguine in white wine with fresh mussels. (Jake deals with grief and love)

Made me cry a goddamn river. I’ve said this before, but Hangster is one of those ships that I had trouble getting into. When I first got into the fandom back in June 2022, I strictly read Icemav, never dipping my toes into Hangster’s relationship because I never felt the spark. But as time goes by I’m starting to warm up and have read more and more. This fic is one of those where it captured my attention instantly. I knew it was going to be angsty, but still holding out hope for a happy ending (just like Jake in this story). The grief that blanketed the whole writing only made the resolution more beautiful.

WHORES IN MY BED. by pornogirl

“Jake-” Bradley’s eyes have a wet glimmer to them, the kind of wet that looks like the beginnings of tears and Jake wants to kiss him so badly. “Jake, is it loaded?” Jake rolls his eyes at the question. “Open your fucking mouth.” (Author’s notes: it's really not as bad as the tags may suggest but like. read the fucking tags!)

I’m a freak and I’m not ashamed of it:) Basically, Jake's going on about how pretty Bradley is crying and scared. If this is your kink, definitely worth the read. I don’t know if it’s because I find it hot, but I don’t get the unsafe feeling as opposed to reading other works that have noncon elements. I don’t know it feels more like it’s both of their kinks or like something they’ve discussed before but Jake didn’t warn Bradley prior. Like CNC, I guess? Anyway it’s really hot and I have not looked at my retainers the same way;)

we're fools to make war by whimsicule @baroness-elsa

In a Walmart at three am, between beef jerky and tortilla chips, with the lights flickering above them like it’s the fucking twilight zone, Bradley wants him more than he’s ever wanted anyone. or: it's a hundred degrees in texas.

This is so Jake and Bradley I’m blown away by how right they feel. Seriously. I didn’t even notice this was 66k words. The vibes, the writing, Jake’s family. Oh hell. Definitely check out the author’s other works too! They’ve got a lot of other Hangster long fics:)

cinnamon and sugar by bottledyarn

Jake was slumped in the doorway, propped up against the wall beside the door. He was a strange, pale, near-gray against the dark backdrop of his apartment, and he looked—well… “You look like shit," Bradley said. – Bradley draws the short straw and has to take care of Jake when he's sick with a stomach flu. Jake doesn't want to be taken care of.

Sigh. Jake and Bradley, man. They’re the ship that you can shove as much angst as you want and it’ll fit right in with their dynamic. They’re just so stubborn!!!! The push and pull between them is magnetic, man. I think I get why people love them.

habits by rararatatouille

Jake and Bradley come together in a series of jagged stops and starts. They fall apart in the exact same way. In which habits are hard to break, even for the people we love most.

Mannnnn. Goddamnit. I think this fic converted me to like Hangster. I think this has become canon in my brain too. I can’t even. Just read it. Words aren’t enough to describe this fic. 

Days Like This by chase_acow @cowsalot

Jake's in Hawaii to lose himself after getting the Navy's first air-to-air kill in decades. Instead he finds a ramshackle diner, a cast of odd characters, and possibly the love of his life. Bradley goes to the Hard Deck to order waffles. He orders waffles. He goes to the Hard Deck to get some waffles. He goes to the Hard Deck, and who is this hot asshole acting like they know each other?

So good. A 50 First Dates AU. Jake just loves Bradley so much, man. And Bradley finally showing up in the end. Love really will make you walk miles across Earth for your special person<3

OTHERS

Other pairings, romantic and not.

Mr. Blue Sky by omnidirectional

Tragedy first brings Iceman into Bradley’s life, but he quickly becomes the steadiest presence of the boy’s childhood… until a betrayal tears their small family apart. After years of silence, can Bradley find the words to make up for lost time? Five times Ice sings to Bradley, and the one time Bradley sings to Ice.

Another one from omnidirectional. Ice and Bradley’s father and son relationship… Here’s one of the tags: Who Wants To Cry Today? If you’re up for emotional damage, click the link🫵

On Mighty Wings by PurpleArrowzandLeather @purplearrowzandleather-blog

Maverick raised geese over the years while Bradley was gone. Bradley does not know this until the flock comes home for the summer.

Short and sweet. Legend author as well. Love the geese preening Mav and Bradley sobbing while surrounded by honks. This is just too damn cute!!

Neglected by proprioception @mnstrfkr

"Do I look God-fearing to you, ma'am?" Maverick asked with a grin. "You most certainly do not," Carole said. "That's why I didn't marry you." "That and the mustache," Goose added.

Can’t forget about this GooseMavCarole fic of course! Hot and heartwarming. Absolutely amazing smut. This one sparked my brain to make a fanart of my favorite polycule. Their dynamic is just so fun!

Yearling by Fopperies , pohjanneito @pilvimarja

Alone in a cabin in the snowy mountains, Maverick is supposed to help Bradley on the path to presenting as an alpha soon. Bradley's body has other ideas.

Just gonna put this here… A different take on ABO’s biology, which I absolutely love. It’s so hot… Bradley, I feel you, honey…

Seeing a Trailer by daenabenjen42

In the aftermath of the Layton rescue, Merlin has questions.

Sighs for the millionth time. It’s so good. Again, I love the portrayal of Mav’s PTSD and grief here. And it’s not just him, but daenabenjen42 wrote about the other boys’ trauma too. I love it so much I must’ve reread this one about fifty million times. 

in between what's already done by crawsley

“We aren’t doing this,” Maverick says, firmly, and he’s tensing like he’s about to move, about to shove Rooster off of him, push him away like he pushed him away before, when all Rooster had wanted was some guidance, some help, some love and kindness and— Rooster bears him to the ground, right there on the rug in the entryway.

This is legitimately one of the first, if not the first fic I’ve read from RoosMav. I still remember clearly going home from watching TG:M in the cinema and KNOWING that there were definitely going to be people who ship Mav and Roo. I rushed to AO3 straight away:D Imagine my delight when finding this one!

shake my nerves and rattle my brain by BogBeast

This wasn’t supposed to be intimate. This was about punishment, humiliation, stubbornness and spite. Not this gentle crap that made him sigh, the hand in his hair making his stomach swoop with every tug, the heavy scent making his head feel foggy, the praises making his heart skip a beat. That shit is just weird. The horrifying realization that he’s hard in his flight suit has nothing to do with it.  - Mav's gotten them into a lot of weird situations, but giving blowjobs to their rivals because of a stupid bet has to be the weirdest one.

Icemav AND Sloose? SIGN ME UP, BABY!

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

That’s all of it! This is my list for now. Thank you all for reading through to the end! Let me know if you enjoyed any of these fics so we can gush about them together:) I hope you enjoyed my yapping:}

My works have always and will continue to take inspiration from others. So thank you for creating stories as beautiful and profound as these, dear beloved authors<3

If you want to see my bookmark collection of all of these fics, click here >> TOPGUN (Best of the Best) While you’re there, how about you read some of my fics too?>:) EliasHirsch

(PS!!! There will be a 4th part because there are definitely more good fics that people need to know about:))

[progesterstoned]

i have a thyroid tumour. the doctors have given me 2 ultrasounds and a biopsy and they say its not cancer. i basically have nothing to worry about. for now. what if it is cancer? i know i'm gonna die someday but what if my days are gonna be cut short, to 6 months to a year? then what do i do?

what happens after i die?

i always act like a dramatic bitch by crying "i wanna die" whenever i'm just feeling bad. i need to stop. because i'm a natural living organism. my undeniable fear of death is hard-wired into me.

my main hope is that dying doesn't hurt. i want death to feel like sleeping on the couch at a family party as a child, and having my mom carry me to my bed and tucking me in and kissing me goodnight. i hope death feels like that. that's comforting and reassuring to think about.

i hope there isn't total nothingness after death. death is a ceasing of brain function. what will i see? nothing? how will i know what it feels like? idk. i probably won't care at all. i won't be suffering or scared, or angry, or depressed, or anguished at all. or happy. or anytging. i'll just be... nothing. its scary. but at least there's no suffering. i think. i hope.

if there's a hell after i die, im gonna take my clothes off and run away from the devil, the demon masters chaining us up, i'll run away and go for a swim in the lake of fire. if i'm in hell forever, i'm sure i'd get used to it after a while and call it home. i'm definitely gonna see some old friends of mine there.

if there's a heaven after i die, it'd be the same. i'd see some familiar faces in the happiest most blissful eternal realm ever, but i'd get bored of it quickly i imagine. but it is nice to think about.

reincarnation? :D oh boy. correct me if i'm wrong but i heard the Hindu tradition says that the soul you have now is passed onto another animal's life, where your life ends, you start a new one as a new animal. which sounds pretty sweet. the concept of anatman says i think, that there is no "self". just consciousness at this moment, socially ingrained behaviour, the body, physical touch sensations and feeling. form, perception, consciousness, fabrication, and feeling, all impermanent. these sensations are carried over into the next life. which sounds pretty sweet. Ship of Theseus.

i want to be a cat bathing in the sun in a nice apartment. or a monkey foraging for fruit in a jungle, climbing trees n shit. chances are i'll be reincarnated as bacteria and bugs a million times before i turn into a multicellular mammalian being, due to the sheer volume of mammals, insects, and bacteria in the world. but still. nice to think there'll be something new to experience after all this.

what if when i die, there's a tiny undetectable part of my brain that lingers on, that allows me to experience my decomposition underground for thousands of years? what if i get to ever-so-slightly feel my flesh and my bones slowly decomposing into the soil surrounding me, my corporeal form becoming one with the mycelium and plant matter surrounding it? what if i get to feel my bones and flesh metamorphose into grass, trees, massive fungal systems, constantly repeating the life/death cycle, over and over again?

or if i get cremated, cuz i'm dead i'm likely not gonna feel it in any way, but at least i get to think about what happens to this body i inhabit. i'm turned into ashes. my family takes my ashes over to Seattle. my ashes are spread across the great vast blue Puget Sound. my corporeal form, this little insignificant, only body i have, which can only be in one place at a time, is now the size of an entire body of water. the individual particles of ash making up my body spreading out farther and farther as time goes on forever. the ash that was once my arms, my legs, my penis, my eyes, my teeth, my heart, my brain, it's all dust. and it all goes into the water, becoming one with it. some of it will stay near the shore, others will hit the shore of other places, like the San Juan islands, maybe Alaska, maybe east Asia, Australia, Aotearoa, or just.... floating all over the water, the great ocean, forever and ever, until the planet gets eaten up by the sun. then my atomic molecular particles will become one with the Sun, the same Sun that gave me life and warmth and light. once my Sun body blows up, it will be a great big supernova. cosmic stardust forever. the stardust going who knows where.

despite my potential loss of consciousness after my bodily death, despite it all, my physical form will go other places. if i can't be reincarnated as something new, the flesh house i inhabit now will become something so much greater. so much bigger. so infinite. eventually, i will live up to my About Me post.

i will never die.

I WILL NEVER DIE!

[deadguydeathmatch]

Welcome to the Dead Guy Death Match Elimination Round!

Due to the broad nature of death as a concept, most of the submitted characters only received a few votes each causing a massive tie. I figured the fairest way to sort out this issue would be to hold an elimination round to let you guys vote on who you want to make it into the bracket.

There will be two elimination rounds the first of which will start on Monday the 3rd of April at 3pm BST and the second will start on Saturday the 8th of April at 3pm BST.

Elimination Round 1 will feature polls of 5 or 6 unrelated characters (all of the matchups were generated randomly) for you to vote on. The lowest voted character will be eliminated and all of the remaining options will progress to the bracket.

Elimination Round 2 will feature polls of differing numbers of characters from the same or similar media and only the highest ranked character among them will progress to the bracket, all of the others will be eliminated.

Both sets of polls will last 24 hours.

I've tried my best to only include official images for all of the characters on the polls but I'm not familiar with every series listed so, when the polls go up, if you notice I've used a fanart or cosplay image without permission or credit please let me know and I'll add credit and correct it for any future appearances of that character.

The matchups are listed under the read more and hyperlinked to the polls

I apologise if I’ve accidentally spelled something wrong or used a wrong name for something, I’m not familiar with every series listed.

There will be spoilers for many series ahead.

Round 1-

Poll 1-

Leif- Bug Fables

Claire Foley- Professor Layton

Magne- My Hero Academia

Koki Kariya- The World Ends With You

Matsuri Kanroji- Demon Slayer

Tiso- Hollow Knight

Poll 2-

Polly Geist- Monster Prom

Beetlejuice- Beetlejuice

Kim Namwoon- Omnicient Reader’s Viewpoint

King Arthur- King Arthur

Chidi Anagonye- The Good Place

Duncan- Dragon Age

Poll 3-

Breakdown- Transformers

Varl- Horizon

Captain Orimar Vale- Skyjacks Podcast

Deep Throat- The X-Files

Connor Murphy- Dear Evan Hansen

Poll 4-

Catherine Earnshaw- Wurthering Heights

Johannes Cabal- Horst Cabal

Mr Boddy- Clue

Galivar Kholin- Stormlight Archive

Seth Gordon- All For The Game

Poll 5-

Jay Gatsby- The Great Gatsby

Billy Loomis- Scream

Esmeralda- The Hunchback of Norte Dame Novel

Kili- The Hobbit

Charles Vane- Black Sails

Poll 6-

Ned Stark- Game of Thrones

Hua Cheng- Heaven’s Official Blessing

Skelly- Hades

Nate- Levarage

Owen Carvour- Spies Are Forever

Poll 7-

Andre Grandier- Rose Of Versailles

Ash Lynx- Banana Fish

Jade Irinka- Chuubo’s Marvelous Wish Granting Engine

Hugo Oak- Kipo and the Age of Wonderbeasts

Evelyn Hooper- Less is Morgue

Poll 8-

Pandora Hearts- Xerxes Break

Bow- Inanimate Insanity

Sam Cortland- Throne of Glass

Matoro- Bionicle

Tigerstar- Warrior Cats

Poll 9-

Deadman- DC Comics

Bunny Corcoran- The Secret History

Adam Faulkner-Stanheight- Saw

Tobias Tattersall Hawthorne- The Inheritance Games

La Signora- Genshin Impact

Poll 10-

Erik- The Phantom of the Opera

Diggory Graves- Hello from the Hallowoods

Max- Sam and Max

Nicholas D Wolfwood- Trigun

Pip Pirrip- South Park

Poll 11-

Pedro Madrigal- Encanto

Midori- Your Turn To Die

Charles Foster Kane- Citizen Kane

Rufus Emeterio- They Both Die at the End

Tuuri- Stand Still Stay Silent

Poll 12-

Manny Calavera- Grim Fandango

Howard Hamlin- Better Call Saul

Tanya McQuoid- White Lotus

Diallos Hoslow- Elden Ring

Sayaka Miki- Puella Magi Madoka Magica

Poll 13-

Meiji “Menma” Honma- Anoha: The Flower We Saw That Day

Chiyoko Fujiwara- Millenium Actress

Mari- Omori

Simon Karin- Pathologic

Lee Everett- The Walking Dead

Poll 14-

Rachel Amber- Life is Strange

Jason Grace- Riordanverse

Violet Harmon- American Horror Story

Vylad Ro’Meave- Minecraft Diaries

Chara- Undertale

Poll 15-

River Song- Doctor Who

Queen Serenity- Sailor Moon

Sliver of Straw- Rain World

Manny- Swiss Army Man

Mr Nobody- Transistor

Poll 16-

Shizu- Slime Tensei

Michael Afton- Five Nights at Freddy’s

Neil Perry- Dead Poet’s Society

Silhouette- Watchmen comics

Garret Jacob Hobbs- Hannibal

Poll 17-

Junpei Yoshino- Jujitsu Kaisen

Okudera- Yakuza 5

Shinichiro Sano- Tokyo Revengers

Yuri Nakamura- Angel Beats

Emily- Corpse Bride

Round 2-

The Owl House-

Flapjack

Caleb Wittebane

Star Wars-

Kanan Jarrus

Obi Wan Kenobi

Fives

Torchwood-

Owen Harper

Ianto Jones

Ace Attorney-

Mia Fey

Deid Mann

Critical Role-

Laudna

Mollymauk Tealeaf

Star Trek-

Jennifer Sisko

Spock

Tasha Yar

Hamlet-

Hamlet

Ophelia

Dracula-

Quincey Morris

Dracula

Marvel-

Loki

Tony Stark

Natasha Romanoff

Final Fantasy-

Haurchefant

Aerith Gainsborough

Ysale Dangulain

The Last Of Us-

Joel Miller

Sarah Miller

Riley Abel

The Vampire Diaries-

Nora Hildegard

Stefan Salvatore

Klaus Mikaelson

Avatar: The Last Airbender-

Avatar Kyoshi

Avatar Roku

Jet

Hatoful Boyfriend-

Nageki Fujishiro

Ryuuji Kawara

Black Butler-

Grelle Sutcliffe

Angelina Dalles

How To Train Your Dragon-

Hiccup Horrendous Haddock 2

Stoick The Vast

Les Miserables-

Gavroche Thenardier

Eponine Thenardier

Supernatural-

John Winchester

Castiel

Buffy The Vampire Slayer-

Jenny Calender

Tara Maclay

Arcane-

Silco

Vander

Infinity Train-

Tuba

Simon Laurant

Sally Face-

Sal Fisher

Larry Johnson

Ghosts-

Pat Butcher

Pete Martino

[cordonian-literature]

The Aftermath - Ch. 4

Emotions and Confrontations

Summary: Eleanor has a difficult week with her mother in the hospital, and Bastien asks Riley’s mother for some information

A/N: this one’s a bit of a long one

Word Count: ~5.0k

Warning: Mention of character death

*All characters belong to Pixelberry, except those that are unique to my story (I’ve also used some characters and fictional instances from Donna Tartt’s “The Goldfinch”)*

Catch up here!

Tags: @captain-kingliamsqueen​​ @marshmallowsaremyfavorite​​ @gkittylove99​​ @lovablegranny​​ @loudbluebirdlover​​ @mom2000aggie​​ @kingliam2019​​ @queenrileyrose​​ @shanzay44​​ @cordonianroyalty​​ @hopefulmoonobject​​ @hopelessromanticmonie​​ @cinnamonspongecake​​ @queenjilian​​ @kuladekiwi​​ @twinkle-320​​ @iaminlovewithtrr​​

- Eleanor -

Grandma had work on Sunday, which was the same day that the city was re-opened, so we went to the hospital before we went home. She put us in the care of a friendly nurse, Cheryl, who told us we had to sit in the ICU waiting room until Mama came back from her surgery. I was scared that she was gonna look different when she came out, like an ugly Frankenstein or Coraline’s Other Mother, but when her bed was wheeled back into the ICU, she only had a bandage wrapped around her head, covering her hairline. Besides the bandages and a bruise on her cheek, she was still my Mama.

Grandma had left us some cash in case we got hungry and wanted a snack or something from the cafeteria. I didn’t have an appetite, but I constantly asked Gabe to bring me to the vending machine (it was a little far from the ICU, and Grandma didn’t want us going by ourselves, so I had to go with him) and I would purposefully drag behind and take forever to choose something.

I could tell it annoyed him, but that wasn’t really what I was doing. I just hated being in the ICU. It wasn’t boring — we had our phones to play games on, there was a TV which the other people waiting let us have the remote for, and the nurses and doctors who passed by us would always try to start a conversation or give us sad smiles, which made me feel bad because I didn’t have the energy to smile back — it was just that sometimes the ICU felt a little scary. Looking at some of the other patients who were sick made me afraid that this was just a place they were storing Mama before she was going to go join Daddy. I didn’t want to be reminded to think about that, so every time I could I would ask Gabe to bring me to get a snack. I never ate them, and he would only take a bite before leaving it, so very soon the tables next to Mama’s bed were filled with junk food.

Grandma was upset about that. She said that if we didn’t like something we shouldn’t have gotten it. Thankfully, Gabe didn’t rat me out and say that I had made him bring me twelve times, so Grandma thought we just got twelve things at once. She talked to us about it in a gentle voice, but I still started crying and said that I hated it here. I had an audience, which made me nervous, so I hid my face in Grandma’s stomach. We said goodbye to Mama, even though she was still asleep, and went home.

When we got to our door, there was a man and a woman wearing dark suits waiting for us. Grandma told us to go to our rooms while she talked to them, and afterwards called us into the kitchen for dinner, where she told us that they wanted to remind us we would have to stay with her until Mama got better, and that Daddy's funeral was on Friday.

Grandma called our principal and told her that we weren’t going to be going to school for the rest of the week. I wasn’t upset about school, but what I didn’t like was that I would also have to miss my ballet classes and I wouldn’t be able to take piano lessons for the rest of the week, either.

I cried about it. I wanted to go. I wanted something to happen that was normal, something that I used to do before all of this. At least when I was dancing I would be able to pretend like Mama and Daddy were gonna pick me up together from the lobby. At least when I was in front of the piano with my teacher, Molly, next to me, I could pretend that Mama and Daddy were sitting somewhere behind me listening to me play.

On Monday, Mama was still unconscious, but the doctor said she was doing much better. Grandma’s shift was shorter that day, so she told us we would be visiting Daddy’s work to make sure everything was alright.

We walked into the office building through the revolving door. Gabe and I got into one section while Grandma was in the one behind us. When it was time for us to jump off, Gabe wouldn’t let me pass and began running to make the doors turn faster. It made me a little dizzy, but when Grandma told us to come out, Gabe and I tumbled out together and laughed. I realized it had been a while since I had seen him smile, and that made me sad again.

The receptionist says hello to Grandma and one of Daddy’s workers brought us towards the elevator and up to his office.

As soon as we step out of the elevator, I can see the inside of Daddy’s office through the room’s glass walls.

We pass through cubicles before reaching Daddy’s assistant’s desk, who looks at us with a smile.

“Mrs. Brooks! It’s nice to see you,” she says to Grandma. She looks down at Gabe and I and goes, “Hey there, kids! How are you two holding up?”

“We’re fine,” Gabe says and I manage a small smile.

“I would like a word with you, Ashley,” Grandma demands.

“Oh,” she exclaims. Though Ashley’s skin is dark, a deep pink appears on her cheeks, which I didn’t expect, and she begins to look around her desk nervously. “Yes, of course. Give me a moment.”

After she collects a few documents and folders, Ashley looks at my brother and I to say, “A co-worker’s birthday was today. There’s cake, donuts, and some juice over there. Why don’t you guys take a look?”

We nod our heads and walk off in the direction that Ashley pointed towards while her and Grandma walk into Daddy’s office.

In the room, people are talking to each other and they don’t notice us when we each grab a donut. Gabe pours himself some juice and asks me if I want any.

“Could you also give me a slice of cake, please?” I request.

“The knife for the cake is already there,” he tells me.

“Mama told me no knives. Remember what happened last Thanksgiving?” I laugh to myself.

“I wish I could forget what happened last Thanksgiving, but this knife is different, Ella, it’s more blunt. Just cut how big you want your slice and pull it out.”

He puts my apple juice on my plate, goes to grab his own plate and walk off, but I whine, “Pleaseeee?”

“Ella, I swear. Look, the pieces are already cut up! You can just grab it with your hands!”

“But....” I give a sad pout.

“Oh, God,” Gabe sighs and uses his fingers to grab a piece and put it on my plate. I look at it distastefully.

There’s frosting on his fingers. He licks it off, thinks for a second, and then grabs another piece to put on his own plate. Grabbing two forks he leads me to a couple chairs against the wall.

We sit down and eat. I finish my cake and my donut, and then ask Gabe to get us seconds while I get more apple juice. The table with all the food on it is near the door, and while I pour my drink I can see Grandma talking to Ashley. Ashley pulls out some papers from the pile she brought in and hands them to Grandma. She then goes into Daddy’s desk and pulls out some more papers. Grandma examines everything with a frown. She turns back towards Ashely and nods. She walks towards the door, but at the last second says something else to Ashley, who looks down at her feet. She replies, and Grandma seems disappointed.

“I wonder what they’re talking about,” I say.

“Grandma looks mad,” Gabe notices. “Do you know why?”

I shrug and go back to our seats.

Once Grandma finishes talking to Ashley, she comes over to us and tells us to eat quickly. Every worker in the room turns to give her a “Good afternoon, Mrs. Brooks,” or a polite nod.

On Tuesday, Grandma calls Molly, my piano teacher, and asks her to come in to give me a lesson. The night before I cried to my grandmother about how I wanted something to go back to normal, so I guess this was her way of giving me that.

When Molly came in, she gave me a long hug, then hugged Grandma and Gabe, too. After she had a short conversation with Grandma, she sat down in a chair next to my stool. Looking through my folder of music sheets, she couldn't decide what to give me.

“I know,” she says at last. “Why don’t you play your dad’s favorite piece? Remember how proud of you he was when you mastered it?”

I nod my head, but there are tears threatening to fall. I had never cried in front of Molly before. I didn’t want her to think that I was a baby who couldn’t get over anything. I wanted her to think that I was the girl who wanted to make her father proud, so I was determined to play it.

My fingers are stiff when I hit the first note. Molly doesn’t say anything. When I bring my right hand to play along, my fingers don’t flow — they just jab at the keys. I can tell my wrists are too stiff. Molly still doesn’t correct me.

Daddy wouldn’t have liked that. He would have wanted you to play better. And you can play better. So why aren’t you? Why can’t you do it for Daddy? Do you want him to be disappointed in you?

I stop playing and my hands hover over the keys. They’re cold and shaking.

“Ella?” Molly tries to get my attention.

My shoulders drop, and my arms fall to my sides. I shake my head, staring down at the keys, at the instrument I loved so much. I don’t cry, but Molly still brings me in for a hug.

Grandma has work again on Wednesday, but I wasn’t looking forward to going back to the ICU. I asked her if I could go with her to the part of the hospital that she was working at and be away from the ICU for a little bit, but Grandma convinces me: “When Mama wakes up, don’t you want to see her right away, instead of later, after Gabriel gets a chance to come and get you?”

Thankfully we didn’t have to go into the waiting room, but whenever a doctor or Cheryl wanted to check in on Mama, they’d ask us to stand on the other side of the curtain for a few moments.

Gabe and I don’t cry as much as we had been the past couple days, and I was proud of us for it. A while after we had been sitting there, Gabe gets out of his seat and sits on the edge of Mama’s bed, putting his head on her stomach. He doesn’t cry — just looks at her. I go to the other side of her bed and hold the palm of her hand. I begin to tell her about how the first half of this week has gone, and how much I miss talking to her and hearing her laugh at the jokes Gabe always said weren’t funny.

He sits up and laces his hand through her fingers. We both sit silently.

I turn my head around in surprise at the sound of the curtain moving. Mama’s doctor holds the curtain open for a tall man who stares at us. His blond hair was messy, like how Gabe’s got sometimes when he’d forget to brush it. He stands there and looks between Mama and us. The doctor motions for him to take a seat, and he walks towards it, but doesn’t sit down.

He’s too quiet. It made me nervous. The area under his eyes were dark, and I knew he hadn’t slept for at least two days. Daddy’s eyes did that sometimes, too.

I didn’t like him staring at us. I wanted to ask him what he was there for, but I try to be nice and say, “Hi. I’m Ella. This is Gabe. Are you here to see our mom?”

Finally he starts moving towards me, but his eyes were locked on Mama, so I move away and stand near Gabe.

He holds her hand. I hear him start crying. He kisses Mama’s knuckles in between his cries.

I’m almost mad. No one kissed Mama except for Daddy. And who was this man anyway? But seeing a grown man cry, waterfalls falling out of his eyes and his face scrunched, I start crying, too.

Gabe tries to comfort me, but my head jolts up when I hear the sheets moving. Mama shook her head around and finally looked at the man. She pulls her hand back and I think, “Ha!”.

He stands up straight and looks a little intimidating. “Hello, Riley,” he says.

Mama frowns at him. She then looks at us, her eyes wide. I want to jump and give her all the hugs and kisses in the world, but she looks so shocked I’m almost scared to move.

“Do I...,” she takes another look around the room. “Do I know you people?”

We all stare at Mama in shock. My heart thunders in my chest.

“Riley...,” the man starts. “It’s me... Liam.”

“Who? I don’t... I don’t know you....”

“Mom, what do you mean?” Gabe asks, he reaches for her hand, but she pulls it back. Gabe’s face falls, defeated.

The curtain moves again, and Grandma walks in. Immediately, I rush to her and cry, “Mama doesn’t remember us, Grandma, Mama doesn’t know us!”

Cheryl was right behind her, and once she hears me, she turns back and calls the doctor in. Grandma pulls me out, calling for Gabe, and the doctor asks the man to step out as well.

We stand at a distance from the curtain for a few moments. I can hear the doctor talking inside, but I don’t know what she’s saying. The man who said he was Liam turns to Grandma and asks in a small voice, “Has her condition improved since the incident?”

“Not significantly,” Grandma responds. “She’s been unconscious ever since the surgery on Sunday. This is the first time she’s woken up.”

Another man, this one with dark hair, walks up to us and goes, “Surgery?”

Grandma looks at him. “Yes. She suffered a head injury.”

“Are you the nurse assigned to her?” Liam questions.

“No,” she answers. “I am her mother.”

“Ah,” Liam holds out his hand. “Liam Rys. A pleasure to meet you.”

Grandma shakes his hand, not breaking eye contact. Liam regards Gabe and I.

“These two are...?”

“My grandchildren. Riley’s children. Eleanor and Gabriel.”

Both men stare at Grandma, their mouths slightly agape. “I see.” Liam clears his throat. He looks down at us and forces a smile. “It’s nice to meet you two.”

The doctor finally comes out from the curtain and says something to a couple of nurses. She then comes to us and says, “We’re going to take her in for another CT scan. See if there’s anything we didn’t notice before.”

“Of course,” Liam goes.

The doctor motions the two men towards the waiting room, and then comes back to us.

“Will you let me know what happens?” Grandma asks. “I have to take these two home.”

“Of course,” the doctor promises.

We leave the hospital, not saying anything to one another.

Once we’re in the elevator of our building, Gabe turns to Grandma and questions her, “Grandma did you know who those men were?”

“I knew the blond one. Liam,” she answers, continuing to stare at the elevator doors. “I could guess who the second one was. Your Mama told me about them some time ago.”

“Why are they here? I’ve never seen them before.”

“Because now they know where your Mama is.”

“They didn’t know before?” I ask.

“No,” Grandma says curtly.

“Why?” Gabe continues. I almost tell him to stop. Grandma looks annoyed, but I want to know why, too.

“Because they didn’t know Mama’s last name was Blaise.”

Gabe scoffs. “What did they think it was?”

“Brooks.” She still doesn’t look at us. My anxiety increases, and I want to almost yell at her to just be direct with us.

“Why did they think she had your last name?” I question.

“Because that’s what Mama’s last name was before she got married.”

“So they didn’t know where she was because...,” Gabe starts, but he doesn’t know what to say next.

“Because her name changed?” I continue for him.

“Yes. And no one knew what your Mama looked like. Your Daddy told people he was married. People only knew his wife’s name, not her face. Now people know her face, so they used her old name.”

“Did Daddy do that on purpose?” I wonder aloud.

“Yes,” Grandma says.

Gabe looks at me, frowning. He’s confused, just as I am. I can see he still wants to ask questions. I want to ask some, too, but the fact that Grandma hadn't looked at us when she spoke made me think she was mad. I didn’t want her to get angrier.

For dinner we have some leftover pasta from the night before. We eat in silence, scared that we would agitate Grandma. But once she finishes her plate, she looks up at us. “I don’t want you both talking to those men, okay?”

“Yes, Grandma,” we say, but I want to ask more questions. I decide against it, and go to sleep confused.

The next day, they finally move Mama into a regular hospital room. There are two more men who came to see Mama. Today was the day that they were going to ask her questions. First the doctors and Grandma asked questions, and they found out that she knew her own name and she knew who Grandma was. Mama also knew the names of every school she had gone to.

Next, they asked us if we wanted to go ask questions. We walked in, but once we looked at Mama, and Mama’s empty, emotionless face looked back at us, Gabe and I couldn’t say anything, so we shook our heads.

They let us sit in the little room with her. Cheryl stayed, too, in the corner of the room. Liam was the next person. He stood at a distance from her this time. He looked like he had done enough crying for everyone in the room. He gently asked her about a bar who’s name I had never heard of, then about the Statue of Liberty, then about some place called Corndania, I think it was. I thought it was the name of a town, and wanted to tell him that she had never been there. Then he asked if she remembered anything about a social season or a tour. I could tell that he had to stop himself from asking her more questions. With every sentence, Mama looked more distressed, and the same distress was mirrored on Liam's face. She looked like she was going to cry, and I thought it was interesting that she didn’t.

Then the other man that was here yesterday walked in after Liam left.

“Do you recognize me?” he asked.

“No,” she stated.

“Name’s Drake.” He lifted his eyebrows.

She nods.

For a couple moments, they just stare at each other. Mama looks like she’s trying to memorize his face. 

He doesn't look like he has much to say. Drake catches his breath and starts again: “Do... do you remember what I said to you, at Applewood Manor, or what happened when the court was there?”

“...Where?”

“You don’t... remember anything about Applewood?”

“No. At least, I don’t think so....”

“Well... then do you remember when you helped me pick an engagement gift for Liam?”

“For who?”

He paused. “Liam.... The guy that was just in here.”

“Oh. No, I don’t. Did you end up with a nice gift?”

“I did, thanks to you.”

“That’s nice.”

“Yeah...,” Drake trails off. He sniffles and wipes at his eyes. “Well, I don’t have anything else to ask you, really. There are two guys who are gonna come in next, Maxwell and Bertrand. After that some detectives are gonna ask some questions.”

“Okay.”

He opens his mouth to say something more, but decides against it and walks out.

While we wait for Maxwell and Bertrand, Gabe asks her a question: “Do you remember us? Or know who we are?”

She examines us for a second. “No.”

“What about our dad? Do you remember him?” Gabe continues.

“What’s your dad’s name?” she asks.

“Theodore. Theodore Blaise.”

“Oh, yeah. I've known him since we were both kids. I think we went to high school together? Maybe it was elementary. It might have been both.”

Gabe and I look at each other. Mama and Daddy had never told us how long they had known one another, so we didn’t know how to react.

Two men walk in, and I assume that they’re Maxwell and Bertrand. The one in the vest notices us, and gapes. “Who are you? What are you doing in here?” The second man turns to look as well.

“We’re Ella and Gabe. That’s our Mama.” I point at my mother.

The men look at each other for so long I imagine they’ve turned into statues. “Baby blossoms?” one of them breathes. The other one scoffs at him.

“Aren’t you here to ask her some questions?” Cheryl asks. I almost forgot she was in the room.

The man in the vest clears his throat. “Yes.”

They walk up to the foot of the bed. The second man goes, “Do you remember us, little blossom?”

Mama shakes her head.

“Duke Bertrand Beaumont of Ramsford,” says the one with the vest. “Does that ring a bell?”

“No,” she answers.

“I’m Maxwell,” the second one continues. “Do you remember our Beaumont Bash? Or our investigation on the Engagement Tour?”

“I... don’t know what that is...,” she states.

The men look at each other hopelessly.

We see people in suits at the door to her room. They knock and come in, and ask the two men to step out. “You too, kiddos,” one of them commands, almost as an afterthought.

Gabe and I follow behind Maxwell and Bertrand. Near the door, Liam and Drake are waiting for them. I look around for Grandma.

“Any luck?” Drake asks.

The two men shake their heads.

“What about you two?” Liam asks us in a gentle voice. We look at each other, wondering if Grandma would be mad if we answered a simple question. “Did you get to ask her anything?”

“We asked her if she knew us,” Gabe starts, turning back towards the man, “but she said no. She remembers our dad, though, but from when she was a kid.”

“Ah,” Liam breathes. “Were you both at the museum when... everything happened?”

I don’t really like him, so I stay quiet. Gabe answers, simply saying, “No.”

“You two didn’t have school today?” Maxwell asks.

“Grandma got us time off.”

“That must be nice.”

Gabe shrugs. “I guess.”

After a few moments, the third man, whose name I assume is Bertrand, asks us, “How old are you two?”

“I just turned ten. Ella’s seven.”

He makes a “humph?” sound, as if he’s confused, and frowns. Grandma calls to us from the other side of the room, talking to another nurse. We wave goodbye.

“Will you both be coming back tomorrow?” Liam asks.

“No. Tomorrow’s our dad’s funeral,” Gabe answers. I grab his arm and try to pull him away. I don’t want Grandma to see us talking to them.

“Maybe we’ll see you guys on Saturday?” Maxwell inquires cheerfully.

“Maybe. I don’t know.” We wave again and walk next to Grandma. Once she sees that we’re at her side, she grabs our hands and leads us out. I wonder if she’s going to reprimand us for talking to those men, but for the rest of the night she talks to us about something that one of her patients did, and doesn’t mention any of the four men or Mama.

- Bastien -

After paying the taxi cab driver, Bastien stands to regard the modern building in front of him. The doorman eyes him, smiling. Bastien gives him a curt nod and the man holds the door open for him. There’s another staff member in similar uniform at the reception desk. “Excuse me, sir?” he calls out to Bastien. “Can I help you?”

“No, thank you,” Bastien doesn’t look at him. “I know where I’m going.”

Theodore Blaise’s funeral should have ended more than five hours ago. He knew that Riley’s children and her mother would be back in their penthouse by now.

He walks into the elevator and presses the number he memorized.

A woman walks in and reaches over Bastien to click her button. When they reach his floor, she watches him silently step out and walk down the short hall way.

Once Bastien gets to the end of said hallway, he knocks on the last door.

When the door doesn’t open, he knocks again.

Eleanor is the one to open it. Her short, curly hair is pulled back into a tight ponytail. She wears a white leotard and pointe shoes. Sweat drips from the corner of her brow, but her breathing is even.

“Hi,” she says.

“Hello,” Bastien looks behind her. “Is your grandmother nearby?”

“Yes.”

“Could you go get her, please?”

“Okay.” She closes the door.

A few moments pass, in which Bastien thinks that the girl left him just to pull on his strings. But the door opens again, this time by Charlotte Brooks.

“Good afternoon, Mrs. Brooks. May I come in?”

The woman stares at Bastien for a moment. He can tell she’s contemplating whether to close the door in his face or not.

“Yes,” she allows, stepping aside.

Bastien takes a step in and regards the entryway. To his right he can see a doorway to a kitchen, and to his left are stairs going down.

Mrs. Brooks walks straight ahead, leading him into the living room with wall-length mirrors. Before she reaches the couches, she turns around. “Would you like to sit down?” she asks.

“No, thank you, ma’am.”

“Tea? Coffee?”

“I’m alright.”

“Then what are you here for? To spy on me again?”

“Sorry?” He frowns.

“Don’t you remember? A couple years ago you sent out a team to spy on my house. I saw you come and leave sometimes. It was around when my daughter left your king.”

Bastien holds up a hand. “I apologize for that, but I am here for something else.”

“What more do you want from my family?”

Bastien sighs. “Do you remember seeing Duke Bertrand yesterday? Him and his brother were there to see Lady Riley.”

“Yes, I remember. The one with the sweater vest.”

“Precisely. Your grandchildren spoke to him momentarily yesterday.”

Mrs. Brooks takes a deep breath. “And?”

“This morning the Duke alerted me that he believes Gabriel Blaise is His Majesty’s and Lady Riley’s son.”

She crosses her arms in front of her chest. “Do you have proof?”

“No,” he begins, “which is why I am here. If you have followed Cordonian news after His Majesty broke off his engagement with Countess Madeleine, you’ll know that he has had a lot of pressure to produce an heir to the throne.”

“So?”

“Some of his advisors and his step-mother have tried to convince him for years to marry or to begin attempts for a child who could later rule Cordonia. He continuously refuses, and his close friends know that he hasn't gotten over Lady Riley. Since there has been no chance of them marrying or His Majesty having children, other countries have been quite... unfriendly, you could say, and some have even tried to begin hostile occupations in Cordonia, in an attempt to attack our king and our already weakened monarchy. If Gabriel is his heir, Cordonia would have stability, which is what the country and its people desperately need.”

“Did Liam tell you to come here?”

“No, ma’am. His friends simply helped me piece together the puzzle.”

“Does your king even know you’re here?”

Bastien sighs. “No, ma’am. I wished to speak to you first. I still believe His Majesty is oblivious to the fact that he may be a father, and wanted to make sure that you would be alright with us taking a DNA sample of your grandson.”

“So you asked me before talking to him about it because you wanted to finish the difficult task first?”

“...Yes.”

“Do you really think I would subject my family to the same type of pain that your king made my daughter suffer through? Do you really think I’m going to let my daughter, who was shamed by a foreign country, have her child be put to the same, if not similar, subjection?” Her voice breaks.

“I understand, ma’am—.”

“Do you now?” she interrupts, laughing.

“I am not asking you to do this for Cordonia. I am asking you to do this for a man. Wouldn’t you agree that every father has the right to meet his son?”

Mrs. Brooks takes a moment to absorb Bastien’s words. He can hear music playing from another room.

In a soft voice, quieter than a gentle summer breeze, Mrs. Brooks agrees, saying, “Alright. I’ll be bringing him and his sister to the hospital tomorrow. Tell the king before then.” At the last second she adds, “I’ll bring his birth certificate as well. Hopefully it'll all be enough to prove paternity.”

[vangoghmusings]

pls,, may I request a Kirishima angst fic where his s/o is trapped in a burning building because she ran in to try to save people? and the authorities are being difficult and trying to stop him from going in. all the angst,, all the post angst comfort fluff.

a/n: thanks for requesting!! so sorry for getting to this so late! but i hope you still like it :) i really enjoyed writing this since i don’t do a lot of angsty/sad stuff, so thanks again for the awesome request!! 

pairing: eijiro kirishima x hero!reader 

word count: 1,686 

Kirishima and Y/N arrived at the scene. A villain with a fire quirk had set an industrial complex aflame. While the villain was nowhere to be found, the two pro heroes arrive just in time. The building is old, and they fear it would collapse with so many civilians inside. 

The two heroes ran in together. Kirishima had activated his quirk and ran inside, Y/N by his side. It was an intense rescue mission like this that made Kirishima’s stomach churn. 

Y/N and Kirishima had worked side by side at the same agency from the time he had graduated UA High. Y/N had graduated from Shiketsu High. Despite the rivalry between alma maters, the two got incredibly close. Kirishima had developed feelings that led him to pine after them constantly, while Y/N was incredibly oblivious. He started his day bringing them tea and breakfast and ended it with face-times and phonecalls. Nothing made him happier than seeing her grin at the smell of warm tea or her name on his screen. And yet, despite all his efforts, Y/N was utterly clueless. Kirishima knew he loved her, but he’d never admit it to himself, or anyone else for that matter. 

They gave each other a quick nod of reassurance before parting ways in the building, helping as many people as they could. Kirishima picked up and held people upon his shoulders. Running back and forth, in and out of the building, he saved lives. But something was in the back of his mind. He knew Y/N’s quirk wasn’t fit for a place of smoke and immense heat. He shook his head and set another pair of civilians down outside. Y/N came rushing out, setting down more injured people. Their face was gray, covered in patches of smog and dust. They heaved a deep sigh and looked up at Kirishima with uncertainty. 

“There’s a boiler room that's been unchecked.” 

Kirishima furrowed his brows. 

“Boiler room? Y/N that's the pit of the flames, whoever’s in there is already dead-” 

“That's a guess I can’t believe in. Heroes risk their lives Red Riot,” They said with a soft smile. It was an attempt to reassure him, but it didn’t help. Before he could stop them, Y/N ran back inside. They were already inside, but something shifted. Literally. 

Kirishima’s eyes widened in horror as the ceilings of the complex began to crumble. The wood had already been set aflame, but now the floors above were beginning to collapse. The scream ripped through his chest before he could process what he was seeing. The building was going to collapse, with Y/N in it. They would be dead for sure. 

“Wait!” 

A police officer stopped him, placing their hand on his chest. 

“Red Riot, please do not risk your life-” 

“Shut up!” He growled. He became more animalistic, the fear of losing them filling his veins. He had to do something and he had to be fast. 

He watched as the floors above were beginning to fold in. Kirishima pushed back against the officers with strength and ran inside. Pleads for the Hero to come back, to not risk his life, were shouted, but he ignored them. His life meant nothing if Y/N wasn’t by his side. 

He groaned in pain as the ashes seared his eyes. He got down on his knees, his gaze averting the heavy smoke. His eyes darted around in search of the stairwell. Once it was spotted he ran towards it, skipping the steps with a leap. He was right, the flames were incredibly high here. 

“Y/N?” He shouted. He looked around, trying his best to ignore the burning ache the flames were conducting as they licked him. He tried his best to look through the smoke, and then he spotted them. 

Y/N was pinned down under a metal beam that fallen, crushing their lungs. Kirishima lunged forward, using as much possible force from his quirk to lift up the beam. He yelled as he held the beam on his back, balancing it while grabbing Y/N’s body. He dropped the beam and cradled them close. There was no time to check a pulse, he knew the building was seconds from crushing both of them. 

He rushed out, the clean air filling his lungs. He coughed, weakly clutching Y/N as tight as he could. As he ran, it seemed that the fire department had arrived and was beginning to hose down the flames. 

“Medic, please I need a medic!” 

Kirishima cried and looked down at the body in his arms. Y/N laid limply, unconscious and it seemed that they were breathing either. 

“No, no, no, NO!” He roared, his shout laced with agony. 

Before he knew it Y/N was whisked out of his arms and taken into an ambulance. He ran behind, weakly limping into the ambulance. 

“Red Riot, this is {hero name} correct?” 

He nodded to one of the many medics as the ambulance began to move. He coughed, his lungs still filled with smog. Another medic began tending to his burns and wounds. But his eyes were focused on Y/N.  

An oxygen tank had been attacked to their face, pumping air into her lungs. They were breathing, which assured Kirishima that they were alive. How ever, they hadn’t awakened. And yet, he questioned how much pain they were in. The thought brought tears to his eyes. He hated it when the two left a mission and Y/N wound up injured. He always blamed himself, but they always bounced back with a smile on their face, ready for the next mission. He always admired their tenacity, it was one of the many reasons he loved them. But now, he was angered. 

How could they put themselves in such deliberate danger? For pride? For a heroic moral code? He couldn’t understand. They put their lives on the line, proving that they were a better hero than himself. And that alone was another reason that he couldn’t risk to lose them. 

According to the doctors, the beam had initially fallen in Y/N’s head, causing blunt force trauma to the skull. Because of that hit, the had fallen unconscious. The beam thus rolled off and pinned them in place on the floor, and that's how Kirishima found them. This is what the doctors had gathered from examining the x-ray and wounds. Y/N had entered comatose from the head trauma and had broken 5 ribs and a spinal fracture. Not to mention the burns and cuts they had endured from the fire alone.

When Kirishima heard the list of injuries they had, he practically fainted. How was he able to leave unscathed and Y/N was now stuck with a coma. One thing that granted him relief was that their ribs took the most impact if the spinal fracture had been worse, it could have pinched a nerve or vertebra, leading to paralyzation. At least that was good. 

He never left Y/N’s side. Day and night he stayed at the hospital, keeping watch and waiting for any moment that they would wake up. He was missing out on missions, but it didn’t matter. No mission could be more important than missing out on seeing Y/N wake up. However, Kirishima greatly missed his daily routine. Bringing Y/N their morning tea. The smile on their face when smelling their favorite aroma. The squeeze of a grateful hug. The exciting way they’d pinch his cheeks when they wanted him to smile. The “oh my god Eijiro, you won’t believe what just happened to me” they’d shout into the phone when he would pick up. They were all his favorite parts of the day. 

Yet, he couldn’t be too upset, he was spending his entire day by their side. Although their head was bandaged and their chest was casted, he was able to hold their hand. Day in and day out he clutched their hand, rubbing circles on the back of their hand with his thumb. Despite the cuts and scratches, their skin was still soft, and it brought Kirishima peace. However, guilt consumed him when he would let go of Y/N’s hand to wipe his tears away. His eyes were buried in his palms as he sobbed. He was infuriated with himself. If he didn’t hold them back, it should’ve been his life on the line, that would’ve been the manly and dignified thing to do. But instead, he was faced with their unconscious image every morning when he woke up. He received countless of calls and visits, many to check on Y/N, but also to beg him to come home. It was degrading his mental health. He wasn’t eating, his sleep was minimal, trying his best to stay awake, and to be frank, he looked like a mess. He had left only a few times to get food and shower, but the rest of his time was dedicated to keeping watch on Y/N. He had lost his light and everyone else was able to notice it but him. Kirishima was more aware than ever of his feelings for Y/N however and had promised himself that he would tell them he loved them the moment they woke up. And that was the reason he rarely left their side. 

Kirishima had come back to the hospital after going home and taking a swift shower and grabbing food. He was once again saddened by seeing an unconscious Y/N. By instinct, he pulled their hand into his and took a sip of his drink. But this time was different. Y/N held back. 

The drink nearly flew out of his hand when he realized that Y/N fingers were wrapping around his hand. It was similar to that of a baby holding onto their mother’s finger. His eyes widened, he tried his best not to freak out. He wasn’t sure whether or not to call a doctor but he just froze, waiting to see what would move next. Kirishima’s breath hitched as he watched their cheekbones twitch. Slowly, after what seemed like forever, Y/N’s eyes flew open. Wincing slightly, they turned their head to see who was holding their hand. 

“Eijiro?” 

[lizzy-bennet]

Tale as Old as Time, Song as Old as Rhyme (Beauty and the Beast)

Fandom: Doctor Who Pairing: Whouffaldi Length: 5,000 words Rating: G Also on Ao3 Summary:

Beauty and the Beast AU, or: a fairy tale retelling of the episode ‘Deep Breath.’

There is a prince, the villagers say, who is all things great and terrible. He has a voice that sounds like winter frost and a temper like a burning star. He is older than half the universe, has seen stars be born and civilizations fall, and thinks of a century passing as nothing more than a span of breath.

According to legend, the best part - or maybe, maybe it’s the worst part - is that when he reaches the end of one life, he can go on to the next. He can burn himself up with golden fire, the stories say, and be reborn with a different face, like a phoenix cheating death and rising from the flames, shaking off the ashes of its old self.

He’s a monster, some villagers say. A beast. A madman.

A fairy tale.

#

Clara Oswald (twenty-six and a governess, with far too many books and far too little patience for provincial life) likes to think she’s practical, and practical people don’t believe in silly things like celestial princes who can transform their face. They simply do not waste their time with bedtime stories meant for children.

Which is why Clara won’t admit to anyone that she believes in them, believes they’re as real as the lake that winds through her small, sleepy town or as real as the four walls of her tiny room at the Maitland’s.

If she tells anyone, they’ll tell her that all her reading has ruined her mind, that fantasy and reality don’t bleed together like watercolor paint on a canvas, but Clara knows better.

She knows better, you see, because she’s actually met the prince.

He is the stuff of legend, with stardust in his eyes and eternity in his soul, a high born Gallifreyan, the eleventh prince of the realm, and she is a girl from a small village, who works both as a barmaid and governess and waits and hopes and dreams for the day she can leave and see a world beyond her village. Their paths should never have crossed, and yet they keep meeting, again and again and again, like the universe has decided that their fate’s intertwined. And Clara doesn’t mind, doesn’t mind a bit, because he has a soft voice and a kind smile and gentle hands that somehow always find their way to hers.

She doesn’t truly know him she supposes, their chance meetings are always touch and go, like a brief ripple in a lake, and yet she’s already (hopelessly, desperately, breathlessly) half in love with him, and whenever she looks into his eyes, she swears he’s half in love with her too.

So, no, Clara doesn’t know everything about him, but she knows what sort of a man he is (a good sort, the kind you’d die for, but the kind who’d rather die than ever let you). Which is why she can’t quite believe it when the news reaches her that the ’beast’ in the blue castle up on the hill (how dare they, she thinks when she hears it, how dare they call her prince a beast) has captured her employer, Master Maitland, and is holding him prisoner just to be cruel.

Clara knows that there must be a mistake, that the prince - her prince - would never do a thing like that. So she lays down her book, pulls on her boots, and tells the two frightened Maitland children in her charge that she’s going up to the castle to bring their father back.

#

(She’s never been to the prince’s castle before, but despite this fact, finding her way up to it is not hard. Neither is finding its dungeon.

What’s hard is what happens next.)

Clara‘s fingers are wrapped around the bars of the castle’s prison cell, and she‘s staring at Master Maitland sitting inside. He looks dazed and half-mad, and he’s ranting and raving about incredible things, about a golden glow and a red rose, about how the castle’s bigger on the inside and how there’s a beast there who haunts it and Clara can’t follow it all.

“You stole a rose?” she asks, eyebrows furrowing, mind ticking away like a clock, trying to make sense of this tangled mess of a story he’s telling.

“Not just any rose,” a new, monstrous voice says from somewhere behind Clara, and she recoils against the grey stone wall, cold seeping in through her shawl. The voice that‘s speaking comes from the shadows, curling out from the darkness like mist, and she can’t see the speaker. “It was the last rose of Gallifrey.”

The words register, and the situation hits Clara like a wave upon the shore.

“No,” she whispers, “no, Master Maitland, tell me you didn’t.” “I didn’t know,” her boss sobs, bending his head and dragging it down the bars, “I didn’t know.”

Most people didn’t, Clara supposes. The story sounds like a fairy tale, all fantastic and fanciful: that the last rose of Gallifrey and the prince are connected, that each red velvet petal on it was a life to be lived, and to cause a petal to fall would be to cause the prince to die, to burn himself up and emerge anew.

Regeneration, it’s called. A fancy name, a pretty thing.

It still means death.

“Tell me a petal didn’t fall,” Clara begs the darkness, but even as she says it, she knows that it’s hopeless, that it’s already happened. And yet she can’t help but plead anyway, “Please, please tell me he didn’t change.”

There’s silence from the shadows, and then that voice again, all stoic and sharp like pointed arrows and jagged glass and it cuts her to the core as the voice says, “I did change.” Stars. He’s...the voice is...

The voice belongs to him. She’s been talking to him without even knowing it. And why didn’t he correct her until this moment? Why did her prince not greet her?

Clara says nothing for a minute. It feels as if the air’s getting thin and the walls are closing in, like the ground is crumbling beneath her feet and she cannot find a safe place to land. Clara tries to trace the silhouette in the shadows, tries to piece together a picture of this new man, but she cannot.

“Step into the light,” she says.

Her words hang in the air, half a command, half a dare, and then a man she doesn’t recognize emerges from the darkness.

He has grey hair and anger-filled eyes, and his face is all sharp angles and hard lines. It’s not his change in appearance that makes her heart twist all raw and painful, it’s his demeanor. He stands there, squinting at her, arms stiff at his sides, and the prince, the prince Clara knows, (her prince, she thinks rather possessively), would run to her, kiss her forehead, take her hand. Her prince had sparkled with energy, like a shooting star, all bright and glittering and always in motion.

But even shooting stars fade to nothing eventually.

“Strax?” the man asks, glaring down at her, like she’s some sort of puzzle he can’t figure out. “Clara,” she chokes out. She can’t believe he’s getting her mixed up with one of his odd servants, let alone the one that resembles a rather angry, enchanted potato. “It’s Clara.”

He shrugs. “It might be, you two are very similar heights, so I’m not sure.”

“It is Clara,” she snaps, and her voice comes out angrier than she intends it too, all loud and hard, but she can’t help it, can’t help it that she’s trying to grasp the fact that the man she loves is dead, and yet he still stands in front of her. Insulting her, of all things.

“Well, Clara,” he says, saying her name in a beastly growl, as if it might not really be her name at all, ”the pudding brain in the cell over there stole the last rose of Gallifrey, killing one of my lives. According to the ancient law of my kingdom, the murderer must die too; a life for a life.”

Clara shakes her head in disbelief, in outrage, “That’s stupid.”

“I agree,” he replies, and Clara feels a glimmer of hope that maybe, maybe, maybe her prince is still in there somewhere, buried beneath the grey hair and gravely voice and rude insults. “However, I cannot completely circumvent ancient law without consequences. I can save him from death, but a life still has to be exchanged for a life. He has to remain here as a prisoner.”

Clara glances at Master Maitland, alone in his cell, sentenced to be there forever, and she thinks.

She thinks of her book, 101 Places to See, stuck snug in her shelf, pages unopened and list uncrossed. She thinks of her grand plans and the maps she’s poured over, of adventure in the great wide somewhere and how she wants more, more, more. More of the world and more of the wonders that exist beyond the pages of her books and so much more than this provincial life.

But then she thinks of the two children back home, who only have one living parent left, who have already known far too great a loss at far too young an age. It’s a feeling Clara knows all too well, and there’s still grief from her own loss etched into her memories and onto her skin. She won’t let anyone on this Earth go through what she went through, she decides, not if she can help it.

Which is why she says, “Take me instead.”   #

Clara expects to stay in the prison cell, but Strax (Odd and brown and round and surely enchanted and how, how, how did that beast ever mix her up with him?) leads her down the halls of the blue castle that somehow really does seem bigger on the inside. Whenever Clara thinks that surely, surely they are on the lowest floor, or that they have reached a wall, there is still another spiral staircase downward, or yet another corridor, and the passageways shift and change and shimmer with starlight.

She should be scared, she thinks, she should be absolutely terrified. Clara has always fancied herself as a practical person, and practical people should be frightened of things like glowing walls that rearrange themselves.

But she is not. For once, she thinks, this is something new. This is something brilliant and spectacular and something so, so much more than her sleepy little village with its sleepy little people.

Clara almost forgets that she is being led somewhere and not just exploring (and really, that’s what she’d like to do, push the boundaries of this strange castle just for the fun of seeing how far she can push), when Strax stops abruptly at a door.

“I suggested we disintegrate you in acid,” Strax tells her, plainly and rather pleasantly. “But the Master insists that you are his guest, and that I put you here, in the Belle Room.”

Strax opens the door and a gasp of oh my stars leaves Clara’s lips, because she can see why it’s called the Belle Room. It has marble columns and etched carvings and gold leaf, and stained glass that sends mosaics the colors of rubies and sapphires across the floor.

“He also demands I tell you that you are free to go wherever you like in the castle,” Strax says, and he looks utterly disgusted, like the very idea of letting her wander about instead of locking her up is repulsive. “Even the West Wing, if you can find it. But the castle itself is very peculiar about that wing, probably won’t let you near it anyhow.”

And, yes, Clara could be scared, but all she can think of is how this is the most exciting thing that’s ever happened to her in all her life, that here, there are enchanted corridors that lead to who knows where and the promise of something exciting, something dazzling, and back home...back home there are only orders and lessons and laundry and the same few books she’s read over and over again.

101 Places to See, she thinks. She’ll come for them all, one day, she can swear to that, but for now...this is a promising substitute.

#

His eyes are as blue as a clear winter sky, but his voice is as cold as one. If he’s snapping or snarking at her it’s fine, because Clara has always been able to give as good as she gets. Their fast chatter, their back and forth banter, is a dance she’s familiar with, one that reminds her of her old prince. But him ignoring her, or treating her as if he’s indifferent to her, hurts in a way she can’t quite explain. They used to talk endlessly when they met, packing in a month’s worth of conversation in minutes as she talked about all the places she wanted to go and he told her about all the places he’d been.

But now the only time he bothers to talk to her is when he asks her to dinner.

(“No,” she snaps at his invitation - if you can call a single word said in a flippant manner an invitation. And No is what she always says, because really, how dare he disappear on her all day, every day, and then arrive at her door without so much as a ’Hello’ or ‘Sorry I got you mixed up with an enchanted potato man,’ and pretend he’s a civil person who can eat a civil dinner?

“Impossible girl,” he snaps back at her, which is what he always does.

At any rate, she thinks it’s better that he calls her that instead of calling her Strax.)

#

Clara seeks him out one day. She doesn’t even realize she is, but when she lays eyes on his form - with his coat as black as night with its flashes of red as bright as rose petals - Clara cannot deny that it was him she was looking for.

He’s in the West Wing, which she swears the castle rearranged on her because it’s most definitely not in the West, and she’s not even sure if the small circular room could even be considered a wing.

And it took her nearly three weeks of wandering to find it. (The castle, she thinks, much to her annoyance, doesn’t like her. She wonders if it’s owner feels the same.)

And speaking of it’s owner: his back is to her, and he’s writing on a chalkboard, his long, clever fingers drawing intricate spheres across the black, and the words look like bright white stars bursting forth out of the darkness.

(He writes in a long-dead language, one Clara can’t read, but she thinks...she thinks he’s writing something that’s half poetry, half arithmetic.)

“We used to meet,” she starts off saying, and then she laughs, backtracks, realizes what an understatement that is for whatever really happened between them. “I mean, we’d meet again and again and again, by a pond, behind a pub, in the snow, anywhere. Everywhere. And always on a Wednesday. Why?”

He shrugs. “Wednesdays are nice.”

“Yeah, but he sought me out. Why?” “I,” he corrects her, and beneath his calm demeanor, there’s something like a beastly growl to his words. “I sought you out, Clara. I’m still the same man underneath.”

”Sorry,” she says, and she is sorry, she doesn’t want to hurt him. “I know you’re the same.”

It’s a lie. They both know it. But for now, he lets it slide.

“I was going to ask you to travel with me,” he admits quietly, back still to her.

The idea of him ever offering that to her makes Clara’s heart beat fast, fluttering out a melody against her ribcage. ”Why?”

“I travel frequently, and always with a companion.”

“No,” Clara shuts her eyes, lets out a breath. “No, that’s not what I meant, why would -“ the word he is on the tip of her tongue, but she catches it, changes it, “why would you ask me?” He laughs, “Clara Oswald: Too big of a mind for so small of a town. A governess and a barmaid, with so much practicalness in her actions and yet all those dreams in her mind, so many contradictions all wrapped up in one person. How could I resist?”

Show me the stars, her mind begs him silently, offer to take me away and give me adventure in the great wide somewhere. I’d say yes. “It's a pity you never offered,” she says. She’s testing him, baiting him, and somewhere in the back of her mind she thinks she should feel self-conscious and ashamed, but she doesn’t, because never has she ever wanted anything so badly.

“Yes,” he says, a bit stiffly, “it’s a pity.”

He says nothing more, silence stretching out between them, and though they stand a few feet apart, though Clara is close enough to reach out and take his hand, the divide between them seems to be as wide and fierce as a black hole that can suck down burning stars and swallow entire planets.

Clara steps away, face falling, silently nodding. He says he’s the same man, says he was going to offer to travel with her, but he doesn't offer now. He must not feel the same way about her, she realizes, not anymore.

(She never stops to think that maybe he doesn’t offer because he’s afraid she’ll say no.) # And this is how they are: three steps forward and two steps back. But they keep being drawn to each other, like there is something tying the two of them together.

It’s as if the universe is saying, these two, it will always be these two. Stars may fall and planets may burn, times will change and people will too, but it will always, always, always be them together: Clara Oswald and the last prince of Gallifrey.

Even if they don’t know it yet.

#

“You’re free to go, you know,” he says out of the blue one day, all sudden and Scottish and abrupt, and Clara can’t help but think he’s trying to kick her out. He still hasn’t extended that offer to travel with him, much to her disappointment, and now he’s saying that she can leave. She wonders if he’s gotten tired of having a short, stubborn girl meander about his castle walls (insulting them more often than not) in search of something dazzling.

“You’re no longer my prisoner. You never really ever were,” he admits.

“Never really thought I was,” Clara replies. “Most prison cells don’t look like my room here.”

There’s more to say. That she knew that he may be cold, but never cruel, that she had guessed his blustering and flippancy hid someone who cared. That she’s not scared of him, she’s just...well, she doesn’t think she really knows who he is anymore. Or what he thinks of her. But she says none of that. Instead, she settles for lifting her chin and saying, “Besides, I could have escaped any time I wanted.”

He arches an eyebrow at her.

“I’m very clever you know,” Clara continues, unfazed.

Seconds pass as he stares at her, and then there’s a smirk on the corner of his lips. “Oh, Clara Oswald, I know you are.”

And for the first time since she’s arrived, for the first time since he’s changed, they share a smile.

And Clara swears there might be something there that wasn’t there before.

#

It is a warm summer night with a sky full of stars right outside the windows. There is music playing in the background and this magic, mad, impossible man is rambling on about Beethoven and something called a bootstrap paradox, and so he doesn’t even notice that Clara’s dragging him to the center of the ballroom until they're in the middle of the dance floor.

He pauses in the middle of his spiel, his hypothesis about time streams and melodies stopping mid-sentence as he blinks owlishly at his surroundings and then down at Clara.

“I don’t think I’m a dancing man,” he says, very decidedly.

“I don’t think you get a vote,” she says, pulling him closer.

It is not a waltz, and maybe it’s not even a dance. Because, no, he is not a dancing man, but he does temper his ramblings so they keep in the four-fourths time of the waltz, and he does sway a little from side to side, because Clara insists he try, and he can’t say no. He can’t ever say no to her.

(He almost asks her to travel with him then, she thinks, but he doesn’t. She won’t know why until later.)

#

Because he finally asks her civilly, Clara finally says yes to dinner.

It’s a mistake.

There are automatons, automatons made of clockwork and bone, of cogs and flesh, who hiss out “be our guest,” and trap her and him in their restaurant of death.

But that’s not the worst part. No, the worst part is when he manages to wrench himself free from his chains while she’s still bound, and with one foot out the door, he turns and tells her, “Sorry, they’re coming. No point in us both getting caught.”

And then he disappears, and she is alone, and all she can think of is:

Her prince wouldn’t have left her.

#

The automaton is made of copper and stolen skin and is staring down at Clara through eyes that don’t belong to it.

There are other automatons all around her, with their stolen, sawed-off parts, encircling her like a pack of wolves closing in on their prey and part of her mind is screaming, wondering if they’ll rip out her throat like wolves would too.

She tries to ignore that screaming, terrified part of her mind.

“Where is he,” the automaton ticks out, in a voice that’s both dead and alive. “Where is the prince?”

“I don’t know,” Clara gasps out, “I don’t know.”

“But you know him.”

Does she? she wonders, and the question echoes around in the cavern of her mind over and over again. Clara knows he is wonderful and terrible, both warrior and peacemaker, monster and sanctuary. She knows that, once upon a time, he cared about her very much. She thinks that maybe, just maybe, he still might even if he doesn’t show it.

(Clara can’t be sure though, every day she waits for him to extend the invitation to travel with him, and every day he doesn’t, and so every day she dies inside. He can’t truly be her prince, not if he never asks like he once said he wanted to, not if he doesn’t care to travel with her any longer.) “I don’t know if I still know the prince,” she says, “but if I do, then I know where he will be, where he will always be.”

Clara holds out her hand in the air, palm up, as if she can summon him to her side, as if, out of anywhere in the world he could be, out of every choice he has, he will always choose to be next to her. And maybe he will, she thinks, (oh, he always will, oh, if only she knew,) because the next thing she knows, she’s no longer alone. He’s there, by her side, taking her hand, and pulling her with him to safety.

#

The automatons of death are defeated, and now Clara is back in the castle with its shifting, magic walls, and this impossible man is leading her down one, to a set of doors she’s never seen before.

“Got a present for you,” he tells her, in that gruff growl of his, only this time, it sounds warmer, happier, less beastly. “To make up for the ruined dinner.”

Clara breathes out a laugh, raises an eyebrow, “And for the almost dying?”

He sniffs imperiously, bats his hand dismissively, as if death couldn’t compete with the undignified atrocity of ruined dinner plans. “That too, I suppose.”

He opens the double doors in front of him, and the sight inside nearly leaves Clara breathless. She is staring at a library that looks as if it goes on forever, with books as far as the eye can see. The shelves full of leather bound volumes start at the floor and go on til the ceiling, and Clara steps inside, mind spinning, breath catching, nearly crying because she’s seeing more books in one room in this one moment than she ever has in her entire lifetime.

”How did you know?” She asks, ripping her eyes away from the beauty of the books and back to him. She can’t recall ever talking to him about books since she’s come here, doesn’t think he’s ever caught her reading. “You chose this for me, but how on Earth did you know? That out of every room you could have shown me, that this is the one I’d like?”

He stares at her, and the expression on his face is lonely and lovely and longing and sad, like he’s looking at something he can’t have. “You told me already, explained how you loved books because they were like being able to hold a slice of the universe in your hands. You told me that, the day in the snow, remember?”

Clara blinks, and ever so slowly, the memory comes back to her: Him, with the brown hair and long limbs and different face, listening to her talk about both the books she’d already read and the ones she still wanted to read as the gently falling snow glittered in the streetlights and dusted the pavement.

“That was me you told all those things to,” he says now, and he laughs, and it sounds wistful and bitter and broken. “You can’t see me, can you? You look at me, but you can’t see me. I’m not in the past, Clara, I’m not dead, I’m here, standing in front of you. See me. Please just see me.”

She steps forward, studying at his face, searching for her answer, and it’s like whatever spell between them that has kept her from seeing him finally breaks, because suddenly she sees him, really sees him.

His hair is grey, his skin is lined, and he scowls more often than not. But his eyes are still the same. Not in color and not in shape, but, oh, how had she not seen it there before? He still looks at her like how he always looked at her: like she is the stars and the moon, the sky and the sea. Like she is everything in his world. He reaches for her less, sounds rougher and sometimes ruder than he ever has, but he still loves her, she realizes.

I loved you in my last life, his eyes tell her, I love you in this one, and whoever I am in my next life, I’ll love you in that one too.

Clara reaches out for him, all but collapses against him as she wraps her arms around his neck and pulls him into a hug, and it feels like coming home. This is her prince. He’s always been her prince.

His arms stiffen - he’s not a hugger, this new man - but she hears an almost inaudible exhale, like he had been holding his breath waiting for her verdict, and it sounds like a soft sigh of tired relief, as if he’s relieved to find sanctuary in a place he thought there might be none.

It’s him, her mind chants in time to the rhythm of his two heartbeats, it’s him, it’s him, it’s him. He hadn't changed completely, not in any way that truly counted.

And since it’s him...

“You once told me that there was an invitation you were going to offer me,” Clara whispers, face still pressed against the soft velvet of his coat. “Why didn’t you ever actually ask me?”

“I thought you’d say no.”

“I would never say no to you.”

(And she won’t, not to him.) “Well then, Clara Oswald,” he says, and she pulls back to peer up at him and ah ha, there it is: the smile she’d recognize anywhere, the magic one that’s made of madness and mayhem and glows like every star in the galaxy all at once. “How about adventure in the great wide somewhere?”

She grins back at him.

“Show me the stars,” she says.

(And he does.)

#

There is a prince, the villagers say, who is all things great and terrible. There is girl who is the same, and they rule together. The first time you see them, people say, you think the two of them couldn’t be more different, like they are light and darkness, fire and rain. But the second time you see them, you realize that they couldn’t be more alike, that they are both brilliant and mad and filled with stardust and wanderlust, and that they shine together like they’re two halves of the same star.

Beauty and the beast, some call them. Mad travelers. A fairy tale.

The tales always change, the gossip shifting as it passes from villager to villager,  but when it comes down to it, the facts are these:

In whatever form, in whatever way, in whatever end of history they’re on, and whatever alternate universe they’re in, they will find each other, her and him. It will always, always, always be them: Clara Oswald and the last prince of Gallifrey.

Some people are just meant to be in each other’s lives.

[ryanmeft]

Ryan’s Favorite Films of 2019

A stuttering detective,

A top hat-wearing vamp

A forced-perspective war,

A bit of Blaxploitation camp

Prisoners on a space ship

Having sex with bears

A writer goes remembering

Whenever his pain flares

  A prancing, dancing Hitler

A gambler high on strife

Here will go cavorting with

A mom who becomes a wife

A family plot with many threads

Three men against their own

A stuntman and his actor

A mobster now quite alone

Doubles under the earth

Two men in a tall house

Are here to watch a woman who

Is battling with her spouse

A family’s plans for their strong son

Go awry one night

A man rejects his country

Which is spoiling for a fight

 A house built by his grandpa

(Maybe; we’re not sure)

Looks out upon three prisoners

Whose passions are a lure

  All these are on my list this year

It’s longer than before

Because picking only ten this time

Was too great of a chore

  What are limits anyway?

They’re just things we invented

I don’t really find them useful

So, this year, I’ve dissented

  You may have noticed this time out

That numbers, I did grant

Promise they’ll stay in this order, though?

Now that, I just can’t

  I’m always changing my mind

Because, after all, you see

Good film is about the heart

And mine’s rather finicky

  There are a lot more I could name

(And I’ll change my mind at any time)

For now, though, consider these

The ones I found sublime

 20. Motherless Brooklyn

I’ve got a (hard-boiled) soft spot for 90’s neo-noirs like L.A. Confidential, Red Rock West and Seven, and Edward Norton’s ‘50’s take on Jonathan Lethem’s 90’s -set novel can stand firmly in that company.

19. Doctor Sleep

There’s something about Stephen King’s best writing that transcends mere popularity; his work may not be fine literature, but it is immune to the fads of the moment. So, too, are the best movies based on that work. This one, an engaging adventure-horror, deserved better than it got from audiences.

18. Jojo Rabbit

There was a time when the anything-goes satire of Mel Brooks could produce a major box office hit.  Disney’s prudish refusal to market the film coupled with the dominance of franchises means that’s no longer the case. If you bothered to give Jojo a shot, though, you got the strange-but-rewarding experience of guffawing one moment and being horrified the next.

17. By The Grace of God

I’d venture this is the least-seen film on my list; even among us brie-eating, wine-sniffing art house snobs, I rarely hear it mentioned. Focusing on the perspectives of three men dealing with a particularly heinous and unrepentant abusive priest and the hierarchy that protects him, it’s every bit as disquieting and infuriating as 2015’s Oscar-winning Spotlight.

16. Waves

You think Trey Edward Shultz’s Waves will be one thing---a domestic drama about an affluent African-American family (and that in and of itself is a rarity). Then it becomes something else entirely. It addresses something movies often avoid: that as life goes on, the person telling the story will always change.

15. Transit

You’re better off not questioning exactly where and when the film is set (it is based on a book about Nazi Germany but has been changed to be a more generalized Fascist state). The central theme here is identity, as three people change theirs back and forth based on need and desire.

14. American Woman

Movies about regular, working class, small-town American usually focus on men. This one is about a much-too-young mother and grandmother, played brilliantly by Sierra Miller, dealing with unexpected loss and the attendant responsibilities she isn’t ready for. 

13. Marriage Story

There is an argument between a married couple in here that is as true a human moment as ever was on screen---free of trumped-up screenplay drama and accurate to how angry people really argue. The entire movie strives to be about the kind of realistic divorce you don’t see on-screen. It is oddly refreshing.

12. Once Upon a Time in Hollywood

Quentin Tarantino’s love letter to 70’s Tinseltown is essentially a question: What if the murder that changed the industry forever had gone down differently? Along the way, it also manages to be a clever and insightful study of fame and fulfillment, or lack thereof.

11. High Life

Claire Denis is damned determined not to be boring. Your reaction to her latest film will probably depend on how receptive you are to that as the driving force of a film. Myself, I’m very receptive. I want to see the personal struggles of convicts unwittingly shipped into space, told without Action-Adventure tropes, in a movie that sometimes misfires but is never dull.

 10. Dolemite Is My Name

And fuckin’ up motherfuckers is my game! Look, if you don’t like naughty words, you probably shouldn’t be reading my columns---and you definitely shouldn’t be watching this movie. Eddie Murphy plays Rudy Ray Moore, the ambitious, irrepressible and endlessly optimistic creator of Blaxpoitation character Dolemite. Have you seen the 1975 film? It’s either terrible and wonderful, or wonderful and terrible, and the jury’s still out. Either way, Moore in the film is a self-made comic who establishes himself by talking in a unique rhyming style that speaks to black Americans at a time when black pop culture (and not just the white rendition of it) was finally beginning to pierce the American consciousness. What The Disaster Artist did for The Room, this movie does for Dolemite---with the difference being I felt like I learned something I didn’t know here.

 9. 1917

Breathless, nerve-wracking and somehow intensely personal even though it almost never takes time to slow down, it is fair to call Sam Mendes’s film a thrill ride---but it’s one that enlightens us on a fading historical time, rather than simply being empty calories. Filmed in such a way as to make it seem like one continuous, two-hour take, for which some critics dismissed it as a gimmick, the technique is used to lock us in with the soldiers whose mission it is to save an entire division from disaster. We are given no information or perspective that the two central soldiers---merely two, in a countless multitude---do not have, and so we are with them at every moment, deprived of the relief of omniscience. I freely admit I tend to give anything about World War I the benefit of the doubt, but there’s no doubt that the movie earns my trust.

8. Ash Is Purest White

Known by the much less cool-sounding name Sons and Daughters of Jianghu in China, here is a story that starts off ostensibly about crime---a young woman and her boyfriend are powerful in the small-potatoes mob scene of a dying industrial town---but after the surprising first act becomes a meditation on life, perseverance and exactly how much power is worth, anyway, when it is so fleeting and so easily lost. What do you do when everything that defined you is gone? You go on living. This is my first exposure to writer-director Jia Zhangke, an oversight I must strive hard to correct in future.

7. Knives Out

The whodunit is a lost art, a standard genre belonging to a time when mass audiences could appreciate a picture even if someone didn’t run, yell or explode while running and yelling every ten minutes. Rian Johnson and an all-star cast rescued it from the brink of cinematic extinction and gave it just enough of a modern injection to keep it relevant. Every second of the film is engaging; Johnson even manages to have a character whose central trait is throwing up when asked to lie, and he makes it seem sympathetic rather than juvenile. The fantastic cast of characters is backed up with all the qualities of “true” cinema: perfect camerawork, an effective score, mesmerizing production design. As someone who didn’t much care for Johnson’s Star Wars outing, I’m honestly put out this didn’t do better at the box office than it did.

6. A Hidden Life

After a few questionable efforts and completely losing the thread with the execrable vanity project Song to Song, Terence Malick returns to his bread and butter: meditative dramas on the nature of faith, family, and being on the outside looking in, which encompass a healthy dose of nature, philosophy and people talking without moving their lips. That last is a little dig, but it’s true: Malick does Malick, and if you don’t like his thing, this true story about a German dissenter in World War II will not change your mind. For me, what Malick has done is that rarest of things: he had made a movie about faith, and about a character who is faithful, without proselytizing. That the closeness and repressiveness of the Nazi regime is characterized against Malick’s typical soaring backdrops is a masterstroke, and the best-ever use of his visual style.

5. The Lighthouse

Robert Eggers is a different kind of horror filmmaker. After redefining what was possible with traditional horror monsters in The Witch, he returned with something that couldn’t be more different: an exploration of madness more in the vein of European film than American. Robert Pattinson and Willem Dafoe are two men stranded in a lighthouse together slowly losing their minds, or what is left of them. The haunting score and stark, black-and-white photography evoke a nightmare caught on tape, something we’re not supposed to be seeing. It’s not satisfying in a traditional way, but for those craving something more cerebral from horror, Eggers has it covered.

4. Us

I have become slightly notorious in my own little circle for not thinking Get Out was the greatest film ever made, and now I’ve become rather known for thinking Us just might be. Ok, so that’s definite hyperbole: “greatest” is a tall claim for almost any horror movie. Yet here Jordan Peele shows that he can command an audience’s attention even when not benefiting from a popular cultural zeitgeist in terms of subject matter. It’s a movie with no easy or clear message, one that specializes in simply unsettling us with the idea that the world is fundamentally Not Right. I firmly believe that if Peele becomes a force in the genre, 50 years from now when he and all of us are gone, his first film will be remembered as a competent start, while this will be remembered as the beginning of his greatness.

3. The Last Black Man in San Francisco

Ostensibly about urban gentrification, this story of a young black man trying to save his ancestral home from the grasping reach of white encroachment is a flower with many petals to reveal. Don’t let my political-sounding description turn you off: the movie is not a polemic in the slightest, but rather a wry, sensitive look at people, their personalities and how those personalities are intertwined with the places they call home. Though the movie is the directorial debut of Joe Talbot, it is based loosely on the memories and feelings of his friend Jimmie Falls, who also plays one of the two central characters. If you’ve ever watched a place you love fall to the ravages of time and change, this movie may strike quite a chord with you.

2. Uncut Gems

When asked why this movie is great, I usually say that it was unbelievably stressful and caused me great anxiety. This description is not usually successful in selling it. The Safdie Brothers have essentially filmed chaos: a man self-destructing in slow-motion, if you can call it slow. Howard Ratner has probably been gradually exploding all his life; he strikes you as someone who came out of the womb throwing punches. He’s an addictive gambler who loves the risk much more than the reward, and can’t gain anything good in life without risking it on a proverbial roll of the dice. His behavior is destructive. His attitude is toxic. Why do we root for him? Perhaps because, as played by Adam Sandler, he never has any doubt as to who he is---something few of us can say. He’s an asshole, but he’s a genuine asshole, and somehow that’s appealing even when you’re in his line of fire.

1. Pain and Glory

When I realized I would, for the first time, have the chance to see a Pedro Almodovar film on the screen, I was overjoyed. His movies aren’t always great, but that was of little concern: he’s one of the handful of directors on the planet who can fairly call back to the avant-garde traditions of Bergman or Truffaut, making the movies he wants to make about the things he want to make them about, and I’d never seen one of his films when it was new and fresh, only months or years later on DVD.

It seems I picked right, as his latest has been almost universally hailed as one of the best of his long career. An aging, aching filmmaker spends his days in his apartment, ignoring the fans of his original hit film and most of his own acquaintances, alive or dead---he tries hard to put his memories away. Throughout the course of the movie, he re-engages with most of them in one way or another, coming to terms with who he is and where he’s been, though not in a Hallmark-movie-of-the-week way. Antonio Banderas plays him in the role that was always denied him by his stud status in Hollywood. It isn’t simply him, though: every person we meet is engaging and, we sense, has their own story outside of how they intersect with his. Most engaging is that of his deceased mother, who in her youth was played vivaciously by a sun-toughened Penelope Cruz. Perhaps Almodovar will tell us some of their stories some day. Perhaps not. I would read an entire book of short fiction all about them. This is the year’s best film.

[softforcal]

Nascar and Neuro : Cashton

summary: You’re dating Nascar!Ashton and whenever he gets injured or even slightly battered in his car, he has to go see Neuro Surgeon!Cal. You and Ash get used to Cal and there’s obviously a spark between all three of you.

word count: 3.5K

warnings: me trying to not be an awkward fuck writing smut. kinky threesome sex, DP, choking, all that jazz. once again, i know nothing about Nascar or actually working in a hospital. 

You waited with the medical team as Ashton’s car pulled up. The car door opened and you ran towards him, throwing your arms over your mans shoulders as your legs wrapped around his waist.

he chuckled and the sound vibrated through your being as you pressed your face against his neck. He had that distinct burnt rubber kind of smell that always reminded you of the track. 

“Mr. Irwin.” one of the medics sighed, “due to the small collision and possibility of whiplash we need to escort you to the hospital for a quick Neurology check with your Doctor.” 

Ashton sighed as he set you on the ground, “fine, but I’m not getting in the ambulance.” 

“Mr. Irwin, you can’t drive until we know for sure you’re not concussed-” the medic began but you held up a hand, “i’ll drive. don’t worry, we’ve seen Dr. Hood a lot. we know how to get there.”

the medic sighed but nodded, knowing he couldn’t argue with you or Ashton. Ashton’s arm went over your shoulders as the two of you walked through the arena to the private parking for the drivers and he tossed you the keys as you got into the front seat.

“are you feeling okay?” you asked, starting the engine.

“my head hurts a bit.” Ashton confessed, letting out a long sigh as he ran a hand through those gorgeous honey curls before his hand came to rest on your thigh.

You drove to the hospital, teasing the speed limit as Ashton grinned at how you drove. he was the professional but he made sure he taught you a thing or two. on your first date he had driven you out to a long dirt road and taught you how to properly drive a stick shift which could have been a super terrible mansplaining thing but with Ashton it wasnt. the pride in his eyes when you figured it out would be stuck in your mind forever because in that moment, on that first date, you knew this was a guy trying to find a partner. an equal. 

you parked and the two of you walked into the Hospital, Ashton’s arm over your shoulder as always.

the receptionists knew you and Ash by now. you came in after most races since Ashton was a target for other drivers, he was the one to beat. there were so many possibilities of neuro issues that Nascar figured they might as well just have a Nuero specialist regular who would know Ashton and know if something was wrong.

and that was Doctor Hood.

Like Ashton, Doctor Hood was young for his profession. which, like Ashton, was a testament to his abilities.

Ash had been seeing him for about a year. the first time you walked into Ash’s room at the hospital, you had noticed how cute the doctor was.

Beautiful tan skin, gorgeous dark hair and the sweetest smile you’d ever seen. not to mention the tattoos on his hands that always made you think he had a wild side and wonder how many more he had.

as the nurse showed you to your room, Ashton took a seat on the bed and you stood between his legs, running your fingers through his hair. “my beautiful race car baby.” you smiled, fingers brushing over his face as he looked up at you adoringly.

“i think you should kiss it better.” Ashton smiled.

“tell me where it hurts.” 

he pointed to his mouth and you smiled before leaning down to press a kiss to his lips. his hands went to your bum as he pulled you closer, deepening the kiss.

a cough made you tear yourself away from Ashton, who tried to follow you with his lips but sighed when he realized you weren’t going to continue kissing him. 

“Dr. Hood.” you greeted.

“i tell you every time, you can call me Calum.” the young doctor said, picking up Ashton’s chart. “so the other car bumped into yours, correct?”

“yup.” Ashton said.

you moved out of Calum’s way so he could come over and check Ashton out, “how are you feeling?” he used a light to check Ashton’s pupils.

“my head hurts a bit.” Ashton answered.

“how about your neck.” Calum asked, hands coming to gently touch the area around where Ashton’s jaw met his neck. 

“necks fine.” Ashton sighed. 

“so you have a head ache. how about dizziness, nausea, sensitivity to noise?” 

“no, no and no.”

“okay well you look to be fine but because of your history with concussions and the fact that i’ve seen you three times this month already, i’m going to recommend that you stay over night for observation.” Calum said, “i’ll get a nurse to bring a cot for you, Y/N.”

“thank you Doctor Hood.” you smiled warmly.

he smiled back, “if either of you need anything, here is my personal phone number, give me a message and i’ll be here as soon as i can.” he handed Ashton a card as he turned and left.

as soon as he was gone you sat next to Ashton on the bed, “i’m going to run home and grab an overnight bag so you can change out of your track suit.”

“you love my track suit.” he grinned.

“it’s true. but there’s no need for you to sponsor ADIDAS right now, i’m sure you’d be more comfortable in your sweats.” you kissed him softly, “i’ll be back soon, okay babe?”

***

you walked back into the hospital, a bag of stuff for you and Ashton in your hands. as you approached Ashton’s room you heard voices and stopped in the doorway to see Calum talking to Ashton.

“is he okay?” you asked, not sure why else Calum would be there.

“i’m fine. just bored.” Ashton sighed, “and hungry.”

“let me go grab you some food.” you suggested.

“thanks babe. i’m thinking pizza.” 

Calum laughed, “you don’t want hospital pizza mate.” Cal came to stand next to you at the door, “look, i’ll go with Y/N and grab you something off the secret menu.” 

“deal.”

Calum’s hand went to the small of your back as the two of you left the room and he directed you down the winding hallways to the cafeteria. as the two of you got in the small line of mostly faculty, you turned to Calum, “he’s going to be okay right? if something was wrong... you’d let me know.”

“a headache could be caused by anything. dehydration, anxiety, you name it. its quite likely he’ll be fine. i just want to make sure.” Calum assured you as he removed his hand from the small of your back.

“so you’ve been Ashton’s doctor a year now and you have no idea how hard it’s been for me to not ask you about these tattoos.” you said, grabbing one of his hands again to look at the letters. “what do they mean?”

“they’re my parents initials.” he explained, “nothing special.”

“no, i love them.” you said, “do you have anymore?”

he laughed, “i do. but i can’t show you them here.”

“maybe another time then.” you answered.

you got to the front of the line and Calum smiled at the lady working who grinned back, obviously Cal was a charmer. “we’ll have three sandwiches from the secret menu.” Calum whispered, looking at you and winking as the worker laughed.

“you’re lucky you have this guy with you, our secret items are VIP only.” she whispered to you.

you pulled out your wallet and Calum held up a hand but before he could say anything you stated: “Calum. i am buying.”

he looked at you, taken aback slightly. this was the first time he’d heard his name on your lips and he liked it.

he knew this whole situation was weird. after all, he was your boyfriends doctor. he had no idea how long the two of you had been together but you’d been together the whole year he’d known you both.

you and Ashton were a beautiful couple. 

from the first visit Cal had began writing down when Ashton had races so he could get himself ready to see the two of you. it was a whole ordeal for him. the waiting sucked but it was always worth it when he walked into that room and was finally able to bask in the sunshine that was you and Ashton.

the things he’d witnessed always made his heart soar, little glimpses into you and Ashton’s relationship. that one time he walked in to see you on top of Ashton on that hospital bed... Calum had been grateful for his long white lab coat and the deserted on call room.

and then walking in on you and Ashton kissing that morning... well, it had almost begun to hurt. 

it hurt because he couldn’t really do anything about it. being a neuro surgeon was hard enough as it was without having a complicated maybe relationship with a nascar driver and his super hot girlfriend. and thats if you and Ashton were even down for it, which he had no idea if you were.

polyamory had been a thing at the start of his residency at the hospital. surgeons never had time to really commit to a full relationship so having more than one lover made things easier. he was used to the idea. but a lot of people wouldn’t be and he was okay with that.

but you were showing interest in the tattoos. and Calum wanted, more than anything, to take this as a sign. a sign that maybe there was hope.

as he looked at your determined face as you paid for the food his heart thumped in his chest and he sighed. “you okay?” you asked, having heard his sigh.

“just tired.” he smiled.

you picked up the tray with the three sandwiches and turned to Calum, “okay, don’t help me, i can find the way back.”

he allowed you to walk a few steps in front of him as you maneuvered your way back to Ashton’s room. you set the tray down on the bedside table, noticing Ashton had changed into sweatpants and a hoodie, “you joining us mate?” Ashton asked, noticing the three sandwiches. 

“unless you have any big shot neuro surgeries or patients-” you began to make excuses for Calum in case he needed an easy way out.

“it’s really against protocol-” Calum began.

“well my head is sort of hurting again so i think you should stay to make sure i’m okay.” Ashton flashed a cheeky grin and Calum laughed, pulling up a chair next to yours and the bed.

“so why did you go into medicine and not modelling?” you asked making Ashton burst out laughing and Cal rub nervously at the tattoos on his hands.

“um... i like taking care of people.” Calum explained.

“you’re good at it.” Ashton said, taking a bite of his sandwich. 

Calum began to relax and he finished his sandwich before he got a message about a neuro consult and had to leave. you and Ashton watched him leave and you sighed, “pretty sure he’s single.”

“it would suck if he isn't.” Ashton said, taking a bite of his sandwich.

“are you sure we’re ready for this Ash?” you asked, twirling a piece of his hair around your finger.

“we have enough love to go around.” he grinned, pressing a kiss against your lips.

“especially for the hot doctor.” you agreed. 

you both finished your sandwiches and you crawled into the bed next to him, sitting between his legs with your back against his chest as his arms wrapped around you. 

****

it was around two AM when Calum exited his surgery. it had been successful and his blood was pumping through his body like he was on fire. as he turned a corner he bumped straight into you and Ashton.

his eye brows furrowed as he steadied you, “are you two alright?” he asked, “why are you out of your room?”

“we were looking for you.” You answered, “are you off work?”

“will be in a minute. was about to head to an on call room for some sleep, next shift starts at seven.” he explained.

“you’re here a lot aren’t you mate?” Ashton grinned.

“on call rooms arent so bad.” Calum shrugged.

“i bet they’re better than the patient rooms.” you said, “how about you show us which on call room you usually go to.”

the way you were smiling was suggestive and your tone confirmed his suspicion. you and Ashton wanted to go to an on call room. with him.

Calum’s heart raced in his chest even more. any other time of the day he might have said no. might have put his work at the highest point of importance. but it was a night shift. and no one was really around. and he was on call anyways...

and damn, that surgery had gone so well and Calum could still feel the adrenaline tingling over his skin like buzzing bees. and then he was leading you and Ashton to his favourite on call room.

the room was off to the side, secluded. Cal knew he was practically the only surgeon who used it. he opened the door and let the two of you in before following, closing and locking the door. 

“wanna see those tattoos Cal.” you said as you pressed your lips against his.

his back hit the door as his hands cupped your face, fingers lacing through that beautiful hair he’s wanted to touch for so long. 

your hands tore off his scrub shirt and your fingers traced over the tattoos on his chest, running down his abdomen and making him groan against your mouth as you teased his skin.

Ashton had come up behind you, hands on your waist as his lips sucked at your neck. his movements earned a moan from you and the sound was music to Calum’s ears.

Ashton tore off your shirt and pushed down your pants. as a race car driver, Ash liked things fast and neither you nor Cal were complaining. 

Meanwhile, Calum reached around you and unhooked your bra, tearing it off you so his hands could explore your body. His fingers brushed over your nipple and you groaned into his mouth, Ashton’s hands pushing down your panties.

Ashton’s lips on your neck drew your attention to him as you turned around to pay a bit more attention to him. You pressed your ass back against Cal’s dick as you pulled off Ashton’s hoodie and pushed down his sweats.

His lips attacked yours as his hands went into you hair, pulling slightly so he could move your head and gain access to your neck. Calum’s hand slipped down the front of your body as he began to rub your clit, making you moan loudly.

suddenly two fingers were in your mouth and you felt Calum’s erratic breath against your eat, “can’t be too loud gorgeous.” 

One of his fingers slipped inside of you as you groaned around the fingers in your mouth. 

“too slow.” Ashton stated as he bent down slightly to lift you up, your legs wrapping around his waist as he carried you over to the bed, tossing you down on it before he kissed down your body, tongue teasing your already worked up pussy. 

your fingers tangled in his curls while Calum watched, still breathing heavily, heart racing. the small sounds you were making were deliciously sinful and it was obvious that Ashton had made you cum by the way your eyes closed and your back arched.

Ashton pulled away from you with a grin, looking over at Calum, “you going to join or what?”

He reached over to his hoodie and pulled out a bottle of lube and Calum realized this whole thing had been really planned out. unless Ashton just carried around lube 24/7 but Calum doubted that.

you opened your arms, beckoning Calum to the bed, “take off your pants and lay down.” you instructed.

Calum opened his mouth, not used to being told what to do. but he followed your instructions, even accepting the condom Ash threw at him,  then he laid down as you got on top of him. your lips immediately attached to his again and his hands went to your waist as you ground down against him. he could feel how wet you were and let out a long moan.

you reached between your bodies, lining him up at your entrance before sinking down. you both just revelled in the feeling for a moments before his hands on your hips urged you to begin bouncing up and down. 

Calum’s head fell back against the pillows as his eyes closed, enjoying the feeling.

You leaned forward and your lips attached to his beautiful neck, biting lightly before using your tongue to sooth the skin.

Ashton had come on the bed behind you and was getting you ready for him as well, when he thought you were good, you slowed your movements and Calum pulled your lips to his to distract you a little while Ashton pushed into you.

you were all still for a moment, letting you get used to the feeling. Ashton gave an exploratory thrust and you all moaned in unison, your fingers digging into Calum’s shoulders. 

they began moving in and out of you at opposite intervals, a rhythm that they picked up almost naturally. one of Calum’s beautiful tattooed hands wrapped around your throat and you let out a devastated whine at the feeling.

a loud smack echoed through the room as Ashton’s hand came down on your ass causing you to clench around both of them. 

Ashton had always had a gruelling, rough, fast pace and you were used to that. But Calum did too. getting wrecked by both of them at once was driving you wild, especially with Calum’s hand around your neck and Ashton hands smacking your ass.

“fuck Princess, i’m not going to last much longer.” Ashton growled from behind you.

“me neither.” Calum agreed.

you moaned louder as their speeds somehow quickened even more, gripping Calum’s shoulders to anchor yourself as their thrusts became sporadic.

Calum let go of your neck and pulled your lips to his, eyes clenching while Ashton’s grip on your waist reached bruising levels. they both groaned loudly as they came, slowing down.

you all stayed in that position for a few moments before Ashton pulled out of you and you rolled onto the bed next to Calum. you were all breathing heavily as Ashton threw his condom away. you and Calum made room for him on the bed as you curled against Calum’s chest, Ashton slipping in behind you and pressing a kiss to your shoulder. 

“how’s your head feeling?” Calum asked, breaking the silence.

Ashton laughed, “fine. i had a bit of a head ache before but it’s gone now.”

“Sex can cure head aches.” Calum mused.

the sound of beeping drew all of your attentions to Calum’s phone, sitting on top of his scrubs, “shit.” he cursed, sitting up, “i probably have to go.” he threw away his condom and picked up his phone, hastily pulling on his scrubs, “okay there’s an emergency so i have to go but you two can’t stay here. do you know your way back to your room?”

“yeah we’ll be fine.” you assured him, standing and pressing a kiss to his lips, “go fix a brain or something Doctor.”

he laughed, a small blush creeping over his skin. he unlocked the door and left while you and Ashton put your clothes back on. Ashton’s fingers toyed with the hem of your shirt, “that was fun.” he mused, kissing you softly. 

his fingers intertwined with yours as the two of you snuck out of the on call room back to Ashtons room where you fell asleep cuddled together.

****

it was morning when Calum showed up, holding Ashton’s file in his hands, “how are you feeling?” he asked, “any head aches, dizziness-”

“nope, i’m great.” Ashton answered.

Calum looked up from the file at the two of you for the first time and he grinned, knowing all of you were thinking about the on call room. it was a dirty little secret and the tension was even worse than before.

“well, you’re good to go then.” Calum sighed.

Ashton stood and the two of you gathered your things, “see you in a month or so.” Ashton grinned as he brushed past Cal.

you followed and smiled, “oh, and nice hickie doctor.”

Calum’s heart dropped as he turned to look in the mirror, noticing the purple welt adoring the column of his neck. “fuck” he swore under his breath. he had just did an emergency craniotomy with a fucking hickie on his throat. 

he watched you and Ashton grin hand in hand and he laughed to himself. the two of you would be back, that much was certain and if the sex was that kinky the first time? well, Calum could only imagine what would happen next time.

[bowlerhatwearer]

Pema the Fox

Name: Pema the Fox

Nickname(s): Pem, Square Head (the latter jokingly by her co-worker Philomena)

Job: Employee of an Adoption Centre near Station Square.

Gender: Female

Age: 20

Species: Tibetan Sand Fox

Family: Mother (passed away), Father

Sexuality: Homosexual

Relationship: Single

Misc:

Gives the children dancing lessons (as a form to entertain them and to keep the occupied)

Is rumored to be actually a witch because she seems always to know if someone causes troubles and due of her emotionless facial expression (it’s actually her good hearing )

She likes swing music and the dance

The only person in the whole orphanages who likes to drink bitter lemon soft drinks (it’s her favorite refreshment actually)

Appearance:

Pema is a young Tibetan Sand fox with a height of 110 cm (3.60 feet*) and weights around ~35 kilogram (77 pounds**)

The color of her eyes is a heavy orange-yellow similar to Mirabelle plums***

Her hair is shoulder long and an in-between of the majority being straight but also slightly curly hair which grows a bit lighter around her forehead , her eyebrows appear to be tender and also slim. Her natural hair color is a mix of sand brown and Spanish grey which overall seems to be the color of her whole fur.  (The brown is more dormant on the backside whilst the grey is stronger on the front side with the exception of the tummy area which bears a white oval spot)

Casual she wears a caramel colored silk vest with shining metallic buttons under it is a morning blue colored shirt, the trousers are made out of plain grey fabric and bear the same color like her dancing shoes (flat soles) with laces.

In winter Pem prefers an ash grey winter coat with charcoal black buttons, dark grey moon-boots together with butterscotch colored wool socks.

For summer on a hot day the Tibetan Sand Fox wears a short sleeved carmine red shirt together with a trousers that go to the knees and have a lighter shade of grey than her casual trousers. Her shoes are switched to sandals with the same grey as her pants.

Personality: People, especially children would say one first glance that Pema seems to be a person that follows the rules she as a caretaker in the orphanages is obligated to by the book. She is strict, has a personality that might seems to be a mix of being coldly and done with the world at the same time but like her co-worker Philomena she takes her job very seriously, even if sometimes it might not appear to be the case. Different than her colleague she prefers to have a job done as soon as possible so she can focus on something else, which does not mean that if a child is in need she ignores them, instead she prefers if it’s possible to find a good, fast but also lasting solution both can be happy with.

Instead of coffee the Tibetan fox seeks exercises like dancing or singing as a way to keep herself motivated but also awake. If time allows a little break she’s mostly found outside of the orphanage either way in the forecourt or the kitchen since cooking is next of dancing a hobby of the fox.

Despite her cool, sometimes bored sometimes even uncaring facial expression Pem like her co-worker tries everything to keep the children away from any harm and danger seeking to make sure every child is save before trying to fend off whatever ill intentioned being tries to harm the orphanage together with the children. Due of her inexperience she had a long time towards children but also other people she appears at first to be shut inside herself but opens up with time. Al thought not as good with children as her co-worker, given her younger age she tries to be there for the children if they have questions or just want to talk with her as long  as time allows it. (meaning if not something more important or crucial happens at the same time).

Like Philomena she likes to sing with the children or dancing with them but also like to play with them games, outside either way sports or showing them nature, if it’s too cold, it’s raining or it gets too dark she does not mind reading a book with them or playing board games.

Unlike her co-worker grizzly bear her patience is not as strong as the bears, loosing it does not result in screaming but rather in giving them fair warnings or in the worst case giving them cleaning duty (dusting of the windowsill or the floor) ,extra duty of washing the dishes with her, to cook with her or to sort the books (who often get mixed up) Often it’s not the children that make her frustrated but either way when news about the Eggman Army comes into the news or if the government of Station Square comes up to say that two people alone with a building full of children are clearly enough to take care of the orphanage. Filling her with a bit of anger she cools of by walking around the house.  

Skills/Strengths:

Agile

Strict

Musical and Dancing Skills

Cooking

Caring

Good hearing

Weaknesses/Limitations:

Physically weak

Inpatient

Inexperience with children (still tries her best)

Easily to be annoyed (by adults)

Gets barbed (snarky) to others if criticized

Suspicious

History:

Originally from a small mountain village in Yurashia that belonged to a small peaceful country there , her parents had to flee with a young Pena when their country met the same unfortunate fate like many by being invaded by an aggressive militaristic clan and later by Eggman via his Eggman Clan Army led by the feared conquering storm. Having to witness her mother dying due of the straining escape, the loss of her home together with a serious wound it shaped the young sand fox forever. Together with her father they went for help to Northamer and like many others remained there where they would move to Station Square. Influenced by this new and at first strange culture Pena grew up with a fondness for dancing and Northamer music especially in the jazz and Swing genre of the past but also the present (“modernized swing”) but also liking music in common.

Due of her interests her father, working in a pottery (later after attending evening classes he became a journalist) fulfilled her wish to send her to a Junior High School with the focus on music and acting where she also learned how to play the clarinet. Having finished the school one of her music teachers recommended to her that in her time of committed military service (law in Northamer requires that every 18 year old attends nine month of military basic training) to chose playing in the military music which according to him would, if she did good give her positive recommendation that would help her to be let in a higher school.

Although at first reluctant to let his only daughter go into military service given his experience with the militaristic clan he agreed after a long talk only if she would promise him to  really chose a “more peaceful” department like the from her already favored marching band , medic or being in the field kitchen.

Ready to do her service and only a few steps away from her goal her mirror got shattered when on the medical examination she got declared by the doctor as unfit for serving the military (due to a clerical error and the doctors believing her to be a very short Maned Wolf but also due of differences between the meaning and reason of war she had with some military higher up during a discussion) Having no other option left Pema chose the alternative civic service who promptly appointed her to a nine month service to an Orphanage outside of Station Square solely led by a middle aged grizzly bear with the name Philomena.

Working for the first time with children was for the sand fox a pain in the back, not because she had something against them, but rather due of being an only child and her inexperience with people who where many years younger than her it made her look cold, harsh and strict. Plus a misunderstanding with Philomena (the bear sought to help her but for Pema it felt more like as if she was patronized if even not taken seriously by her and felt treated like a child) the air bristled for quite a time with sharp tension.

It took its time but the more the fox worked with the bear and saw how she most of the time overworked herself (drinking dangerous amounts of coffee) but also slowly the children who began to like her (and especially her cooking) Pema decided to stay with Philomena at first as an assistant but only a short time later as a co-worker (after a longer talk about parenting and education both realized that the majority of their misunderstandings happened due of communicational errors and misjudgement both saw the other different than they really were)  

Now being responsible for the cooking (Philomena was very grateful for this given that the only thing she knows how to cook where eggs, how to make sandwiches or pudding and most of the times was too exhausted to learn new recipes) Pema does everything she can to support Philomena and the children. Whilst the grizzly teaches them the basics the sand fox is responsible for sports, music and dancing and as already mentioned for the cooking and refreshments for the young ones.

Although she claims that she took the job due of the worry the bear might work herself to death one day, both, Philomena and the children know the truth even if Pema won’t admit it for now that the children, her co-worker and the building really grew to her.

~~~~~~

*/** I used converters from centimetre to feet and kilogram to pounds here, all information provided without guarantee, please correct me if numbers are wrong.

*https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/1/14/Mirabellen.jpg (Eye Color)

Special thanks to @nuttyrabbit who always has an open ear for me when I suddenly get a new idea and he listens to my constant and spontaneous rambling

@robotnik-mun Who gave me the Idea to make a Tibetan Sand Fox after she posted several pictures of them and inspired me to create an OC based on this kind of foxes.

Philomena the Bear © the Bowlerhatwearer/Bowlerhatwearer/Bowler/Melonentraeger

Sonic, locations and characters etc. related to Sonic the Hedgehog © SEGA, Team Sonic

Please do not steal, thank you.

~~~~~~

[lyndsaybones]

Love’s Labor

For the Labor Day Fic Challenge. Post MSIV @marinafrenzy

They spent the Labor Day weekend enjoying the last sweet days of summer and the final weeks of Scully's pregnancy. Sunday called for rain, lots of it, so they opted to make the most of Saturday. She spent the majority of the afternoon floating in the middle of the pond on an inner tube shaped like a flamingo. Jackson found it a couple weeks before at the drugstore and insisted that she had to have it.  Mulder didn’t have the heart to tell him that his Scully was far too practical for something so...tacky. But she broke into a wide smile and started to laugh as she leaned in and kissed her son’s cheek.

“Thank you, sweetie,” she chuckled as she looked at the box. “I love it.”

She’d been more comfortable in the water than anywhere else in the last few weeks, getting the pressure off of her hips and back. She’d been swimming laps and lazing on their little dock most evenings. She gave up on the maternity swimsuits and opted for her black bikini most days, which Mulder loved. “You’re barely contained,” he’d remarked with glee.

Mulder beckoned her back to shore once he and Jackson managed to fill the fire pit with blocks of wood. The sky had gone cotton candy pink and blue with wispy clouds and blazing shades of orange and yellow. She rolled off of the the floating monstrosity and towed it in as she made her way to the dock.

The final trimester had her moving awkwardly, bumping into things, stumbling more easily. Her whole center of gravity out of whack. But in the water, she was graceful, smooth and unencumbered.

He offered her a hand when she reached the ladder.

“Come on my little selkie,” he said as he took her hand.

“I don’t know about little,” she grunted as she climbed, the water spell broken as she stepped back to land.

Jackson had already set about getting the fire started, namely by spraying an entire bottle of lighter fluid on the pile and dropping a match. It exploded with a “whoof!” like a universe being born.

They grilled hot dogs on sticks and sweet corn wrapped in tinfoil. They made s’mores and Jackson wrinkled his nose when he watched Scully set each and every marshmallow aflame before consuming them, flaky black ashes and all.

They sat around the fire together long into the night, until thunder started rumbling in the distance and fat, warm raindrops began to slap against them. They trod in a line back the the house, both of them watching Scully waddle tiredly across the yard.

Jackson kissed her cheek and wished her a goodnight before she headed upstairs. Mulder snuck him a beer and the two of them sat on the front porch together watching as the thunderstorm rolled in.

“Not long now,” Jackson remarked quietly.

“Hmm, yeah, couple of weeks,” Mulder concurred.

On Sunday, the prophecy came to pass and the rain came down hard and heavy for hours and hours. The front yard started to resemble a moat. Scully shuffled around in her robe and slippers most of the day. He could still smell woodsmoke in her hair as she dropped to the couch with an oof.

She arranged her nest of pillows and settled in with a book and a mug of raspberry tea.

“Can we get some take out?” Jackson asked.

“Sure,” Scully answered, albeit absently as she was engrossed in whatever she was reading.

“What’d you have in mind?” Mulder asked.

“I dunno, I could go for a calzone,” he said with a shrug.

“Peppers and onions for me, please,” Scully chimed in.

Mulder nodded and handed him the credit card. Jackson smiled and grabbed his jacket as he headed for the door.

He was back not ten minutes later, sopping wet, his thin t shirt clinging to his skin and his boots emitting a squishing sound with every step.

“No good,” he said stripping out of his jacket and shoes. “The road’s completely flooded.”

“Get him a towel,” Scully said as she attempted to extricate herself from her pillow fort.

He gratefully accepted a couple of towels,  but still dripped through the house and into his room to change.

“I didn’t realize it was that bad out there,” she said, looking a Mulder with a concerned lilt in her voice.

“Well, we’ve got plenty of elevation and reserves. I think we can make it,” he reassured her.

“Right, but I have a doctor’s appointment day after tomorrow. And every other day until the baby comes.”

“It’ll dry up,” he said with a nod. “Can’t rain forever.”

His cell phone chirped and he smiled as he looked at the name. Their neighbor up the hill, Theresa, who, when they first moved in, brought them several jars of wild honey and informed them that family called her “Reesey,” and that neighbors are family. She was a retired nurse who’d taken up a pretty impressive apiary. She made honey and beeswax candles and all sorts of soaps and salves that she hawked every week at the farmer’s market. Scully declared early on that they’d moved in next door to a Disney character,  but a very tolerable one, she decided.

“Ya’ll warshed out down there?” she asked.  

“Yeah, for now anyway. Jackson’s drying out as we speak,” he said.

“The barometric pressure dropped, how’s Dana?”

Unsure as to how those two things were related, he shook his head and shrugged.

“Oh uh, she’s fine. Curled up with a book and drinking that tea you brought her,” he said.

“Keep an eye on her,” she said. “Labor and delivery was always full to the gills when the barometric pressure dropped. Puts those babies on spin cycle or some damn thing, who knows.”

“Huh, I’d never heard that,” he said, eyeing Scully for a moment, who was slowly nodding off, her reading glasses perched on the end of her nose.

Reesey made a noise that sounded like thinking, or concern, or both. “Maybe I should just come down there.”

“Oh no, Reesey, it’s pouring out there. We’re fine, I promise.”

“If you’re sure,” she said cautiously.

“I am, Dana’s half asleep anyway. No excitement here.”

They went to bed that night with rain still pattering on the roof. He drew himself around her, feeling her breathe and shift, feeling the baby move and wobble under his hand.

When he awoke, the thin light of early dawn painted the room silver, like a tintype photo version of itself. It took him a minute to orient himself, but when he did, he realized that Scully wasn’t there.

Her side of the covers were thrown back, which wasn’t that unusual as she was often up and down during the night without him even noticing. The dark smudges under her eyes were always a dead giveaway as to how little sleep she got.

He closed his eyes and waited for her to come back from the bathroom or the kitchen or wherever she’d wandered.

He opened his eyes again and it seemed like it had only been a few moments, but the room was much brighter and he realized that he must’ve fallen back to sleep.

“Scully?” he called, sitting up awkwardly and trying to disentangle himself from the sheets.

No answer. Nothing but the sound of rain. 

He got up and scuffed down the hall to the bathroom.

“Scully?” he whispered, trying to to disturb Jackson.

“In here,” she answered, her voice soft.

“You okay?”

No answer.

He didn’t think twice before opening the door. She was on her knees, elbows resting on the side of the bathtub.

“Did ya get stuck?” he asked with a chuckle.

“My water broke,” she whispered.

He seemed to realize what he was seeing then, her soaked pajama pants, the sheen of sweat on her brow.

“Are you having contractions?” he asked.

She nodded and gritted her teeth. He dropped beside her, trying to catch her eyes and assess the situation.

“How long have you been in here?”

“I dunno, an hour maybe?” she said in a breathy whisper.

“Hang tight, I’ll be right back,” he said as he got up, his achy early morning knees protesting.

“Don’t wake Jackson,” she sighed, dropping her forehead against her crossed wrists.

“Jack! Wake up!” he bellowed.

Muffled teenager noises emerged from his room.

“Jack,” he said as he opened the door, more gently this time. “Your m-...” he stopped himself. “Baby’s coming,” he corrected.

Jackson came fully awake and sat up. “Oh shit, the road!” he said.

“Yeah, I need you to sit with her while I go check it out,” he said.

He nodded, scrubbing his hair away from his face. He turned a quick circle in his room and threw on the nearest hoodie.

“Your room?” he asked.

“No, she’s in here,” he said as he directed him to the bathroom.

“I told you not to wake him,” Scully sighed between labored breaths.

“Honey, I gotta go check the road and see if we’re going to be able to drive outta here,” Mulder responded, palming her shoulder blade.

Jackson plopped down on the floor, pressing his back against the side of the tub.

“I’m already up, might as well be up in here,” he said with a shrug.

Scully sat up a little straighter and eyed the both of them.

“Hurry,” she told Mulder. “They’re about five minutes apart.”

Mulder visibly blanched at this revelation and Jackson seemed to register the urgency. He nodded and took off down the hall at a jog. There was a scuffle of clothing being dragged, shoes being shoved into untied and a drumbeat down the stairs and out the front door.

“Do you need anything?” Jackson asked, watching as she resumed her position resting her head against her arms.

“I’m okay,” she said, her voice soft, but slightly pained.

“Do you want me to go get that exercise ball thing you like to sit on?” he offered.

She smiled. “You’re more like him than you realize,” she said. “Always trying to fix something.”

“Action feels better than inaction,” he said.

“Hmm, I know, but there’s plenty of action going on here, I promise,” she said, letting her eyes drift shut.

“Are you scared?” he asked.

“Not scared, anxious maybe?” she responded.

“You were scared when...with me, you were scared,” he said.

“How do you know?”

“When you remember it, dream about it...I can...I don’t know, it’s hard to explain,” he said, shaking his head.

“I was terrified,” she admitted. “I don’t think I’ve ever been so scared in my life.”

“Of me?”

“No, never of you. Of losing you,” she said, her voice turning raspy and tight. Deep, long breaths, her entire body moving like a wave.

“It’s okay,” he said, his hands failed to find a place to land. “Just uh...he’ll be back soon and we’ll get out of here.”

Long minutes passed. He checked his phone every time her body tensed and her breathing deepened, keeping track of time as best he could.

He nearly deflated with relief when he heard the front door swing open. Mulder clomped up the stairs, his shoes sounding like they were full of mud.

“C’mere a sec, Jackson,” he called, bouncing on his heels a little in the doorway.

“You okay?” Jackson asked, leaning close to her.

“Must be bad news, you two better go hatch a plan. Go on, I’m fine here,” she whispered behind gritted teeth.

“The road’s a no go,” Mulder said as he pulled him into the hall. “I’ve been trying to call Reesey, but I can’t get through. I need you to go up there and get her. You know the back road that connects the properties?”

“Yeah, okay. I can do that.”

“I already called 911, but there are only a couple of all terrain ambulances, so they may not get here in time.”

“They’re only a couple minutes apart, that means it’s soon, right?” Jackson says nervously.

“That’s why we need Reesey,” he said.

Jackson nodded solemnly and headed downstairs.

He entered the bathroom and found her rocking side to side on her haunches, humming a long, tuneless note as she went.

“How we doing? You wanna try going back to the bedroom?”

“Yeah, okay,” she sighed, letting out a long breath.

“Okay, let’s go slow,” he said as he maneuvered behind her and hooked his forearms at her sides.

“It’s gonna seem silly,” she said as she got to her feet. “But I’m a little sad.”

Mulder helped her out of her sodden pajama pants and underwear, tossing them in the tub. Bloody fluid trickled down the inside of her thighs.

“Sad? Why? I thought you were feeling miserable and ready to get this show on the road,” he said, guiding her into the hall.

“I thought I’d have more time with her is all,” she said, a little tremble in her voice.

“More time? Something tells me you’re gonna have all the time you want with her in an hour or two,” he said, shuffling along with her, his fingers rooted to the small of her back.

“It’s...hard to explain. I felt the same way when William...Jackson was born. Something about it being just the two of us and losing that. I told you it would sound silly.”

“It’s not silly,” he assured her.

“I just thought I had more time is all,” she lamented.

“It’s okay, you’re alright,” he assured her as he helped her get to the bed.

She stopped short, doubling over as she gripped the edge of the mattress. A groan rumbled up from low, low, low. Her whole body tensed with the effort of the contraction that rolled through her.

“Let it happen,” he said, offering counter pressure on her hips. “Just breathe and let it happen.”

“I can’t do this,” she eked out. “S’ too much.”

“It’s gonna be okay, help is on the way,” he said, sounding more like he was reassuring himself.

“She’s coming,” she gasped.

“Now?” he asked, not in fear, but for confirmation.

“Now, now, now,” she chanted as she squatted low to the floor and leaned against the edge of the bed.

“I’ve got you,” he said, dropping to his knees behind her.

He got his hands under her just in time to see the baby’s head emerge with a strangled yelp from Scully.

“She’s almost here,” Mulder assured her.

“I can’t, I can’t, I can’t,” she gasped, her voice high and quivering.

“Yes you can, big push!” he coached.

She nodded, just a little and clenched her entire being, focusing completely on moving the baby down. She came, their girl, slick and grey, arms splayed wide and eyes screwed shut, into Mulder’s waiting hands.

“She’s here!” he crowed, somewhere between a laugh and a cry.

Scully sagged with relief, a soft, breathless laugh and then seemed to come unmoored, letting go of the side of the bed and collapsing to the floor. The baby let out a wet, long cry just as her mother’s temple made contact with the hardwood.

Noise seemed to come from everywhere, the back door swinging open with Jackson and Reesey’s arrival, the tiny baby howling against his chest and his own thick sobbing as Scully lay silent on the floor.

They both froze in the doorway, eyes darting from Mulder, to the screaming baby, to a deathly quiet Scully.

“Help her,” Mulder implored. “Please, help her.”

Reesey didn’t hesitate a moment.

“Jack, go get a towel for the baby. Hang onto her, Fox. I’m going to clamp and cut the cord.”

Jackson paused, only for a moment and disappeared into the hall. Reesey made quick work of the cord and assessed the infant. Jackson dashed back in with a towel and Reesey lifted her from her father’s arms and wrapped her up.

“You two, very carefully get her on the bed,” she instructed as she took the baby and laid her the bassinet waiting under the window.

Mulder didn’t wait for assistance and simply scooped her up like a bride and carefully laid her down.

“Scully? Honey?” he beckoned.

“She probably just dropped her blood pressure,” Reesey said as she tended to Scully, checking her pupils and pulse. She changed positions, pressed her knuckles against Scully’s chest, trying to rouse her.

“Call 911,” she said, alarm bells going off for all of them.

“What is it?” Mulder asked.

“She’s not responding,” Reesey said as she went to work.

Jackson fidgeted nervously, stealing glances at the baby, who had quieted to tiny, squeaking noises.

“Scully? Scully?!” Mulder gasped. “C’mon, honey, come back to us.”

He fumbled with his phone for a moment and turned away as he pushed tears from his cheeks.

“Mom?” Jackson said, the first time he’d ever said it to her. “Mom, you gotta wake up and see her.”

While the baby cried and pinked up to an almost ruddy red, Scully was pale, nearly grey.

He drew close and looked her over, his mother, the face he’d been seeing in his dreams since he was just a little boy. He’d dreamed this too, the moment that she stopped and left behind these two strangers alone, trying to figure out what to do with a newborn.

He pushed the feeling down, the fear and the sadness and pressed his palm over her forehead, looking for it...the thing that had done this to her. He’d never put someone back together before, only torn them apart. But he knew he could, he knew he could fix her. He closed his eyes and looked hard.

“Yes, Jack, pray for her,” Reesey said.

Maybe it was a prayer.

He pushed, deep, deep, deep.  His head throbbing and his blood singing with the chant wake up, wake up, wake up.

Mulder was pacing, arguing with a 911 operator. “Send a fucking Med Evac then, we have plenty of space to land a helicopter! We’ve got a premie and an unconscious woman here, please.”

The room is chaos, Mulder’s pleas over the phone, Reesey murmuring as she worked to revive Scully, the baby, the rain, the sound of his pulse in his ears. He can’t lose another family. Not again.

“Jackson? Are you okay, sweetie?” she asked.

She asked.

He opened his eyes and saw her staring up at him, her eyes wide and clear, full of motherly concern.

“Am I okay? I’m fine,” he choked, holding back something between a laugh and a sob. “Are you okay?”

“What happened?” she asked, trying to sit up.

Mulder spun with relief and dropped the phone on the floor with a crack.

“Oh shit,” he said. “Oh thank God,” wrapping his arms around her.

“Where is she?” Scully murmured, her voice raw and raspy.

“She’s right here,” Reesey answered as she carried the baby to her. Jackson and Mulder parted like the Red Sea and watched as the baby was laid in her mother’s arms.

“Oh my God, she’s so little,” Scully marveled. “What happened?” she asked again.

“We thought we lost you for a second there and then you just…” Mulder trailed off.

“You woke up,” Jackson completed.

“She’s okay?” she asked, looking up at Reesey.

“She’s little, but her lungs sound good,” Reesey assured her.  

Mulder dropped his arm over Jackson’s shoulders and pulled him against his chest.

“Thank God,” he murmured. “Thank God for you.”

“Me?” he responded, confused.

“Yes, you,” he whispered.

Jackson relented to the embrace, something he’d struggled to do since he crossed their threshold for the first time. He tentatively wrapped his arms across Mulder’s back and breathed it all in.

“Look,” Jackson said, catching sight of the view out the window. “It stopped raining.”

[the-record-newspaper]

The murder of Rhonda Hinson

Left is Rhonda Hinson in elementary school and right is a photo taken during her senior year at East Burke High  School. Photos courtesy of the Hinson family.

(Editor’s Note:  The 1980’s was a violent decade for women in Wilkes and surrounding counties.  At least four young women were murdered between 1981and 1987—their cases remain unresolved:  Rhonda Hinson of Burke County — who has relatives in Wilkes County, Angela Hamby of Wilkes, who disappeared in 1982,  Sherry Hart of Ashe County, and Candy Roberson of Wilkes. This series, “The Killing of Rhonda Hinson” is the second in a trilogy of murder cases that will be detailed in The Record over the ensuing weeks and months — cold cases of crimes perpetrated against women over 30-years ago, whose families await justice and closure.)

    By LARRY J. GRIFFIN

  Special Investigative Reporter for The Record

 I closed my eyes for one second, and you were gone.  Now, my heart aches, my eyes leak, my soul mourns, and my family is broken. Only a moment that changed forever….You can be sure you will live in my heart forever…I miss the me I was when you were here… –A Facebook meme posted by Judy Hinson

 Bobby Hinson remembers his daughter’s prediction.

“Rhonda told me that it was going to snow on Christmas Day,” he said. “We were always betting on when it was going to snow, and she told me that it would be on Christmas that year.”

Already there had been some moderate, late December snowfall in the Burke County Foothills; so, there was more than just a slight chance that Christmas, 1981, would be white.

“…And sure enough—as we were walking out of the house to go to church that morning, large white snowflakes started falling,” Bobby recalled, as he gazed into the middle distance.

It was Friday, December 25th.  As dads and moms and children gathered around Christmas trees bedecked with garland and twinkling lights to open treasure troves of colorful gifts, one family of three—undergirded by relatives and friends—quietly buried Rhonda Hinson.

Rhonda Annette Hinson was born 12 days before Christmas in 1962—Thursday, December 13th—the first child and only daughter of Judy and Bobby Hinson. “It was 2 p.m.,” Mother Judy remembered.  Their baby girl was healthy; however, the final days of pregnancy, leading up to the birth, were not without issues.  

“We were living in Great Falls, S.C., at the time—in Chester County.  But before Rhonda was born, my doctor discovered that she was going to be a breech birth with her legs tucked against her little chest.  So, he sent me to the hospital in Rock Hill, in York County, because they had more experience with breech births.”  

Fortuitously, the attending physician succeeded in turning her infant daughter, and Judy was able to give birth, without resorting to a “C-Section” delivery.

“Rhonda did undergo therapy for the first year to make sure her legs would grow in the correct position—the sessions were successful,” recounted Ms. Hinson.  “I once told my daughter about the problem with her legs being tucked against her chest. I don’t think that she ever forgot that story, which could account for her excelling in sports so she could use those legs. I mean, she played tennis, basketball, ran track, danced, twirled baton, and always marched in Charlotte’s Thanksgiving Carousel Parade.”

Judy freely admitted that she was a typical, doting first-time mother who held her newborn all the time.  “I didn’t realize that it was OK to lay her down and to let her cry a little.  So, I kept her wrapped you and held her all day long.”

Once while cuddling her neonate, the young mother drifted off to sleep.  “I was worn out and fell asleep.  And when I woke up, I was in a panic—Rhonda was not in my arms.  I looked down at my feet; there she lay--sleeping away on the floor.  She must have rolled off my lap onto the floor, but was so wrapped up that the tumble didn’t hurt her.”

When their daughter was 3-months old, the Hinsons decided to move northward to North Carolina where Judy’s brother was living.  Bobby took a job at Waldensian Bakeries in the hamlet of Valdese—one that he would hold for the duration of his working-life.  The young family of three moved into a gray block house located on a backstreet, adjacent to both the elementary and high schools, in the tiny town of Drexel, about three miles away from the bakery at which Mr. Hinson was employed.  

Eventually, they moved into Valdese proper and welcomed an addition to the family.  Robert Hinson Jr., “Robbie,” was born on Saturday, Jan. 27, 1968 at Valdese General Hospital—the Hinsons’ last child and only son.  Across time, a close bond developed between a baby brother and his older sister.

When Rhonda was 6 years old, she was enrolled in Valdese Elementary School; the Hinsons lived nearby.  Initially, the school experience did not seem to agree with the budding academician.

“About everyday at lunchtime, I would see Rhonda walking from the school toward the house.  And every time, she came in complaining of a ‘terrible headache,’” Judy laughingly recalled.  “The school day was much too long for her, I guess; she could only tolerate about a half-day.”

Circa 1972, the Hinson Family moved a few miles east of Valdese toward the village of Rutherford College.  “We lived in a trailer park there for a while—but not for very long.” Judy recounted. An incident occurred that left an indelible impact upon their 13-year-old daughter and could conceivably account for her lifelong obsession with safety.

“Bobby had to be at work at 2 o’clock in the morning. Not long after he left, we were in bed when I heard someone yelling and beating on the door.  I got Rhonda and Robbie out of their beds and brought them into my bedroom just before someone knocked the door open and walked inside. We went out the back door to a neighbor’s house and called the police.”

When law enforcement arrived, they discovered a drunken intruder who was visiting from out-of-town and thought that he was breaking into the trailer at which he was staying.  Though no harm came to the mother and her children, neither Rhonda nor Robbie wanted to return to the trailer.  

“They were frightened and didn’t feel at all safe anymore,” Ms. Hinson averred.  “So, we had to locate another place to live—and fast….We took about the first place that we could find available at the time—a house on Hillcrest  Street. which we live in now.”  

Even before she started school, Rhonda Hinson demonstrated a penchant for being in the limelight.  When she was 5 years of age, she was among the cast of the 1968 inaugural production of the Burke County outdoor drama, From This Day Forward—a history play, written by Fred Cranford, chronicling the story of the arrival of the Waldensians who settled in the Valdese area.

(Ironically, this writer was among the original cast of that production staged in August, 1968.  I recall that a number of children of sundry ages were involved in the play and rehearsed dance sequences regularly in the Valdese High School gymnasium, adjacent to the outdoor stage.  Little did I realize at the time that among the children, with whom I frequently interacted, was 5-year-old Rhonda Hinson.)

“She was in the outdoor play for three-years. Her daddy went with her to every rehearsal and every performance.  And throughout elementary school she also danced and twirled baton—she was always doing something.  Rhonda loved being in the limelight,” her mother recollected.

While attending Valdese Junior High School, Rhonda was a solid, consistent student who continued to excel in extra-curricular activities, among which were basketball and the junior varsity band.  She played the clarinet and continued to do so when she matriculated at East Burke High  School in 1978.  

Ask anyone who knew her and the story is the same—everyone liked Rhonda Hinson.

“Rhonda was well-liked by everyone,” remembered Sarah McBrayer, who lived across the street from the Hinsons and attended East Burke High  School with their daughter.  “She made friends easily; she didn’t carry grudges; she smiled and laughed and was always in an upbeat mood.”  

“There was absolutely no way that she had any enemies--anywhere,” said her closest lifelong friend, Jill Turner-Mull.  “We moved here from South Carolina in 1973—I was in the fourth grade and Rhonda Hinson was my best friend even back then—in fact we became instant best friends, and she loved for me to brush her hair…The two of us might as well been sisters.”

Jill’s mother, Revonda Turner agreed, “They were together all the time.  Rhonda spent a lot of time at our house just as Jill spent time at the Hinsons’.”  

Jackie Griffin Berry, who shared homeroom and several classes with Rhonda, remarked, “…she was quiet…had lots of friends, and liked to play sports.”

In fact, she excelled in sports, earning accolades in basketball, track, tennis—even varsity band.  Jill Turner-Mull recalled her best friend’s sports prowess.  “While I cheered all three years in Junior High School—grades seven through nine—Rhonda played basketball.  However, during our sophomore year in High School, we did run track together. Though Rhonda was noted for her [general] athletic ability, tennis was her passion.”

Like most teenage girls, Rhonda dated during her formative high school years.  “She dated a couple guys, one of whom was Don Gilbert,” Mother Judy recalled.  He was such a nice young man; I liked him a lot. I remember being angry with Rhonda when she stopped dating him.”

Jill Turner-Mull recalled Gilbert as well. “Yes, Don was a very nice guy, and he really liked Rhonda.  But I don’t remember her dating anyone steady.”

But that was about to change.  

During her junior year, a quiet, rather studious young athlete named Greg McDowell caught Rhonda’s eye, and a romantic relationship began to develop between them.

Rhonda Hinson had slightly longer than 24-months to live.

[gallowsghost]

For whom the bell tolls

Once again did the doctor find herself in that fascinating, yet so ominous realm. But in a reality she sees as a dream, from her company of a similar doppelgänger. That proclaimed this to be a dream at least.

Josiah was wandering along side her doppelgänger, having small talk between the two. But she held her own book open which her future self instructed her to do as they traversed, taking pale sanded and pale soiled paths.

"So what about that then? All this?"

The doctor spoke out almost abruptly to the presence, having picking up from their last conversation. The crackling of bones and sifting of the ashy soil resonated beneath their boots as they walked along side each other. She was silent though and ceased her attention from looking at the mirroring image of herself to her right. Ezme...

The presence only turned her head to look at Josiah, thinking about her question for the moment before giving her straight forward answer, both her hands snaking behind her lower back to lock together.

"A prison. If you really think about it, you- we. Fit in here quite well."

Both her hands unlocked from each other as they came up, open palmed as one hand balled into a fist, keeping her index finger extended before letting it press against her other left digits with the open palm before speaking again as if counting them off, her voice heralding a slight tint of thought but oddly playful enthusiasm as well, which felt so off in a way for an unexplainable feeling.

"The murders, the grave robbing, the experiments, the framed executions, frauds. I only have five fingers, but there's more. But did you know how odd it is that a Matriarch can be in here? If they did something to cause an imbalance themselves? Of course you'd need to kill it, through the Stone reaper. Or by other powerful means, but I don't see that route working without the whistle. But to think a creature that was created for balance would interrupt it. But of course not saying on is in here, but imagine a monarch or Matriarch developing such bad intentions. But overall for your question, it is what it is. At least to me, however you may feel it is but it is quite entertaining to mess around with once you understand."

After the presence finished speaking, a soft chuckle left her as both her hands came together to rub both them together after, her head turning back to look forward. She was aiming to get to the rift she opened, from tearing from the doctor as she slept. But of course Josiah didn't know that.

She only slowly nodded. She understood it well and looked at this place a little more different. To Ezme, it was a playground. Regardless of the prison like features, but soon enough would they see it the same way.

"I guess you're right about that part of it being similar to a prison, but it seems innocent people were brought down here as well. I've come and gone from this place without missing conversation with a few roaming spirits. Children too. But yes, that would be quite an oddity to see one of those down here. But it's been awhile too that i saw the one back home in the ice fields. I still question to see how she's doing."

Her voice trailed off as her steps slowed for a moment, thinking about it before her train of thought was interrupted by the presence beside her, Ezme speaking aloud.

"Those innocent people and children were killed by unfair means. And avoided moving on, thus this place tethering their spirits and dragging them here, forever stuck in this little limbo. Or a fancier word, purgatory. Though as they may be spirits, they reflect on how they died physically which makes them look so lively and not ethereal. Wounds. Every bit of detail on the deceased, but they soon become maddened entities as well for how long they are exposed here. As other beings, evil. Cruel. Harsh. Bad intention filled beings. Devious things. Even other worldly creatures can be sent here, not only humans. Or those who cause an imbalance and interference, will be marked. That category will be marked. And once death presses on them, they are dragged here. There are details on getting out through death but that's something I'll leave alone for now. Mm? I'm sure something her size would be enduring that life without a care. One of the most powerful creatures. Yet know she doesn't care at all for she is quite the creature to not fret."

Her voice plummeted to a mere neutral at the end of her words, but at most she still held a slight curve of a smile. Occasionally did her pace stop for Josiah to keep up behind her at least. They are almost to their destination, for another stretch of walking. Counting her steps as she travelled along, having to remember where the rift was.

"I see. They come here by mistake then it seems then if they aren't based in that category. Wouldn't consider it mistake, but you know what I mean. I'd guess though if I physically died out there in the waking world, I'd come here? Sounds about right. At least how I see it through that, considering those categories. And yes, I suppose you're right. I'd still like to see her again too."

Josiah had a bit of a low voice as she spoke, still not fully understanding. But when she turned her head upwards, all she could see was the doppelgänger shaking her head in a disagreeing manner which confused her even more.

"You are correct about coming here if you died. But I think that ideal works differently. You'll know what I mean though in due time. Hm... You're not the only one wishing to see someone. Something. "

At that point, she only left Josiah in the dark, not referring to the fact of her disembodied form. Not even she knew, but referring to the factor of her future that were to come.

"What do you mean by that? Are you not just a figment of my own imagination? If so, you must share a live nature to miss something then which is quite strange. But if so, what would it be that you miss?"

The doctor was treading on a bit of thin ice by delving on that question which earned her a slight hiss from the doppelgänger.

The expression that the doppelgänger held was a bit of anger now for the moment towards Josiah’s question as Ezme suddenly stepped in front of her with a side strafe which made the flaps of her trench coat flow to the left almost entirely for how quickly she moved and along with dust to scatter suddenly from the dragging of her boots; with her right hand raising up almost instantly in a halt, causing Josiah to bump into it with the tip of her mask, the leather of her half fingered gloves protecting her palm from the sharpened beak of her mask.

"Best you keep believing that then if that's how you see me then, hm? And that question would be best left alone at the time. It's not important. But freedom is...”

Her tone had abit of an unfriendly ring to it as her sentences progressed. But it's not that it wasn't important either, as much as her nature had underwent a change she was still a human being that held a shred of care and need for freedom. A shred of humanity to hold it but barely. Though having such thoughts spark back up only whittled her once more, but soon enough did her composed expression return and she had settled down with much calmer words and with the hand that was held upwards still had suddenly gripped the beak of Josiah’s mask with a good amount of force and pressure, yanking it towards her standing point which caused her to stagger forward with a ceaseless action towards the doppelgängers moves. Though for its freehand, it had slipped behind her back in that process.

The doppelgängers head only lowered a bit so it was enough to meet the eyes through darkened lenses of Josiah’s mask, the beak of her own mask was inches away from Josiah’s own before speaking with a little more composure this time instead of anger.

“Even if you'd not get a proper answer, it's something you'd see soon enough so it's not necessary. Keep in mind. I know that you still remember. I know you know what I'm talking about. I know what you know. And I know what you care for most. Even if caring was never apart of you or your nature. You'll miss more than ever. It'll throw you into a frenzy. Though too; it's going to drive you mad in the long run. Be wary of that in the future, keep in mind that you may not get a chance."

After her words, with slight hesitance did she shove josiah away from her as she leant back up as well and faced away from the doctor with the turn of a heel. All in all was she referring to her own experience as well in that explanation. Though her loose palm had trickles of blood running down from the exposed skin of her finger for the sharpness of the steel mask beak she held onto tightly had sliced into the flesh of her fingers, for her gloves only covered so much half way. However though she did begin walking again with silence until the other would have asked another question.

As for Josiah though, she was trying to fix her mask from the sudden force that she was hit with to shove her back, her freehand fixing it by readjustment of her beak. But keeping in mind of what the doppelgänger said, she did understand it and she didn't want to acknowledge what was true. Though she knew it was, she kept most of it out of mind. But as her doppelgänger began walking up ahead, the doctor had lowered her head to look at the open book that held the chant of the rift. Looking over it before looking to the ground, observing the mangled sands and ash from her stumbling. With much hesitation though did she lift her head back and began walking again to catch up with her doppelgänger. The flaps of her trench coat flowing back with her sudden speed walking of a pace.

But with their passing time, came the final steps of the rifts enclosure which brought both the doctors attention up to it. But the presence stepped forth in front of Josiah once more, silent for that duration but waiting before doing anything for her to near as her hearing focused on the steps.

Josiah though kept her attention up, completely unaware of what was going to happen next for she was still so certain she was in a dream. She felt no need to be fully aware then as she stepped closer. But that all soon change when she realized how fast the doppelgänger swung around with a signature trait of magic and weaponized ability she used, the pale white violet tinge of a shard came directly at her like a blade, but incapable of moving out of the way fast enough to avoid it, thrown by a surprise assault.

In that split of a second, a sudden shock was throughout the doctor from the impact of the sharpened piece that easily penetrated her attire and flesh, her eyes widening to a slight manner of surprise and natural fear. But a final force of the embedded shard that knocked against her, buried the shard further into her heart and broke through bone more with ease, now which caused her to fall back onto the ground with a loud thud and up splash of blood droplets that trickled and flew from the penetrated wound, dust and ashy mist gathering up around her upon collision with the ground. She couldn't see where the shard was embedded, but she knew where it hit her. She couldn't move from the shock she was in, not even a word could leave her. The moment she knew it wasn't a dream, for she recognized that dying in her dreams meant an instant wake up. This one she wouldn't be waking from. Her eyes only met with Ezme who was standing where she was but moved closer, Josiah holding the book as she felt it being removed from her clutch before falling into Ezmes hand that caught her own. Only slowly placing it to the ashy ground. Her breathing was hitched and shaken, her body reacting differently from such trauma as most would fall unconscious before death of this kind of affliction. A stunned expression was all that flooded over her face, before it exchanged to mere tooth baring snarl in a way towards her doppelgänger but all hidden by her mask. Why would she- how could she? She’d been played... she merely felt it all before the final breath threatened to leave her, somewhat beginning to writhe which made Ezme waltz back a tad in surprise.

Josiah clutch onto a lifeless string once she fought the shock, encouraging her shaking right hand to come up and clutch the sharp shard that was deeply embedded still. But slowly shifting to try and get back up, using her other hand to make herself roll over so she could manage to her knees while slowly pulling the shard out, it was to extreme difficulties to succeed. But managing, it was hopeless as Josiah hardly balanced on her knees that lead to a fruitless attempt of getting to her feet. An audible, croaked growl of anger hardly passing her lips before reefing the shard out of her chest, a defined spurt of blood following the illuminating piece and splashing in droplets to the ground, staining ash soil. This was spite, pooled, seething cries that burned within her. Josiah didn’t need to see the look on Ezmes face to know what she hoped for. But alas... it called as Josiah gave in unwillingly, weight calling her back as her motionless form fell backwards to the ground once more. This time for good.

The presence had furrowed her eyebrows at the sight she witnessed, almost startled if she’d say so herself, she honestly hoped that it would've been a fast death there. The shock didn't even kill her, but the presence only shrugged it off with a soft exhale that left her. The smile Ezme had was a bit faded at this point as she stood there. But she has to, to make sure that she physically manifested and gotten back up before leaving. Only until then she remained silent and watched the body.

Though a very unusual sight caught her as the body had suddenly started seizing and twitching in awkward manners and contorting in, inhuman angles which filled the air with crackling and breaking of bones. But the sounds that left the body sounded almost pained, similar to a human cry of agony as if she was still alive. Maybe unconscious before death had fully taken affect against the body, but she knew now as Josiah was as good as dead. An ominous make up of shade and mist resonated from beneath the body, merely coaxing the very appearance of the body and shrouding the small atmosphere. Though she did see limbs jut through the smog like mist. A much louder sound filled the air again that was similar to the breaking of bones still though but worse, which started the doppelgänger from how loud it was.

Suddenly she flinched through natural reaction as some form of dampened mist and droplets ticked against her steel mask, her eyes focusing in through the lenses. All she saw was the crimson tinge before focusing back on the body. She was beginning to see a warped change that she wasn't expecting which made her back up a bit as the mist grew weaker and opened up sights more, causing her to purse her lips abit with a narrowed eye of a gaze.

A sudden loud shrill of a cry filled the air almost instantly after that, the smog like mist settling very slowly as the creature thrashed abit in the mist, sweeping most of the mist away in the process of its movements, to settle its bearings of what just happened but in no time did it settle in a hunched position from its confused fear and welling aggression of bloodlust surfaced. But without hesitation though did the creature rise up more on both legs with a slight ruffle of its feathers that was heard faintly, the elongated tail feathers fanning out in that process and soon folding back in place after doing so. Both its arms hanging at a limp manner before they moved, both the blackened and top scaled hands dragged against the ground as it leant up more, elongated and shallow curved talons dragged against the soil and left heavy markings in it, before rising fully. The soft clicking of blood droplets hit the ground as it was merely draining out of the entity through beak and its merely busted open ribcage and abdomen, it was a grotesque sight to see if more exposed, the open and snapped ribcage bones seemingly seen to twitch with low occasion. The trench coat of the entity hung open with the pale violet glow of the shard that still protruded from where it was last embedded, illuminated the colourless space, as the hood remained heavily draped over the creatures head almost having a few feathers protruding out the sides of the hood itself. The flaps of the trench coat was much more off the ground, a new result of an altered height, the feathered upper half was more to the sight as it took on s similar appearance to that of a avians, being nothing more than skin and scale to the talons below. But all the more appearance too. The sleeves of the trench coat was no longer meeting the creatures wrist, stopping a shallow ways up the forearms. But exposing a small portion of jet black feathers that fanned out slightly from the compact of the sleeves. Overlapping scales travelled down the forearms and all the way down to the overtop of the fingers that reflected ever so slightly from the lighting. But with that glimpse, the entity had lifted its head. Bringing in full view of the skeletal feature of the beak but further in the mask had very slight remnants of flesh that shallowly covered around the bony sockets, looking more fleshy than scale and feather, though if entirely guessed by thought, Josiah’s very own mask became infused with her face and flesh and entirely warped into hardened bone by the magic of the curse that awakened this side, but alone not only affecting this piece of attire. The right side of the hood remained draped over the right side of its face, having not fixed it on its own. The illuminating violet purple was all that was visible beneath the dark of the hood, just a simple slitted pupil. But behind it was sheer anger and aggression as she stood at a height beyond her once doppelgängers.

But suddenly did the entity reel back let out a far more louder and blood curdling shrill of a scream towards the doppelgänger that 'killed' her with the sound echoing out almost instantly, reddish droplets spraying forward from the gust of air that left the maw as the mist was sent flying forward a blackish tongue being visible upon its cry as further detail. Deep within that abyssal maw was a more human looking jaw that cried, like Josiah’s inner shell was consumed by this monstrous avatar. Instantly though after its cry, the being suddenly lunge forward in a sudden aggressive manner having both talons come up in a lower manner immediately as it sprung to life and kicked off from the soil with a frightening amount of speed, a blackish purple mist flowing off the entity as it moved suddenly, as the creature alone had seemed to constantly produce it.

The motion and sound startled the doppelgänger though which made her jump back as soon as the entity moved as well. The movement resulted in her falling back though through the rift and onto her rear outside of it, her clutch in keeping hold of the book was still intact as keeping it open. As much as she would've liked to have examined more, there was no chance, she could smell the bloodlust that emanated off that creature.

A loud thud that sounded more of like hitting a window almost, resonated out as the disembodied Josiah slammed beak first into the rifts barrier, preventing her from getting out though as well which put her in a slight daze as she stumbled back with her head throwing to a lowered manner. As much as it was still Josiah, the entity alone didn't know that. Yet at least. But the creatures only intent was to kill the one that killed it.

The doppelgänger had stared a bit wide eyed before chirping with a bit of a stupid aloud chuckle to herself, having found a bit of excitement in that sudden event. Her eyes remained on the entity on the dead side of the dimension as she stood up almost immediately with the support of her freehand. Though that hand travelled up against the front cover of the opened book now. Her eyes meeting both of the exposed illuminating ones from the other side of the rift now as she watched the entity regain its slight composure and bearings.

But before it could try and do anything else, the doppelgänger had slammed the cover of the book shut and the book itself which began closing the rift almost instantly. Though the last thing she heard was the shrill from the entity that echoed out into the living world as it closed up. Through this point did she prevent her own mark. But as well prevented Josiah from leaving or coming back without Ezmes book. All in place did the doppelgänger stand, book in hand as a palm kept flat beneath it and atop it, held in place. Like she was contemplating, though felt as if she held no regret for what she's done. It was in deep question as a few visible, clear droplets fell from beneath her mask.

It couldn’t be held, was it worth it? Ezme truly seen herself better than Josiah, but... one in the same deep within. It was simply true. Ezme would speak, though not to herself... a soft, but genuine tone present, urging like she was about to cry but warping to a gentle cackle.

“I am sorry...”

Like. Orchestrated destruction of ones own self, how far could it been taken?

‘ What will they think of you now? Do you believe you can still play this life right? ‘

[convenientalias]

Hiya :) I'd love to read Jingim + bleeding through the bandages or Mei Lin + traumatic touch aversion! (That sounds a bit enthusiastic... I'm not a sadist, really!)

I don’t think I’ve ever written a Jingim fic and that’s honestly kind of sad so I had to do it. This is a fic I wrote in a notebook in a hotel room! It’s kind of rough.

Cross-posted to AO3 here. Thanks for the prompt!

(Written for @badthingshappenbingo)

Itwasn’t often the Khan’s three “sons” came together into a single room (withoutthe presence of Kublai himself, at least). Jingim, for one, was not entirelyfriendly with Byamba and Amhad still. Lately he was making more of an effort toget along, but he couldn’t put himself on their level entirely—not on the levelof an adopted son or a bastard, not when he was Kublai’s heir and still had somuch to prove.  Besides, the three werealways too busy to sit around chatting. Nevertheless, in recent times, with allthe trouble that had been going around, they were working to put aside theirdifferences and present a unified front. For this reason they did occasionallymeet to discuss current events. And tonight was one of those rare occasions.Ahmad said they had something to discuss.

Ofcourse, whether this could be called a “room” was another question. They hadagreed to meet in the stables at night and go riding together, so they couldtalk where there were no listening ears, privacy always being dubious inKhanbalig. Jingim had, frustratingly, arrived early and therefore first. Ahmadhad made the meeting sound urgent, but neither he nor Byamba were here yet. Ithad already been a long several minutes, and Jingim was getting impatient.

Hehad spent the time currying his horse. Usually a servant did it for him—he hadno time for menial labor and trifling matters. But it was relaxing, and hishorse seemed to appreciate it. As he brushed, he gently patted its neck.Probably, he thought to himself, this would be the best company he’d gettonight. Inevitably he and his brothers would end up arguing. He would be ableto hold his own, but he did not look forward to it.

Thesound of the creaky stable door opening had him turning around, an accusationof tardiness already on his lips. It died in the first syllable when he saw whoit was, not Byamba or Ahmad, but a stranger. A man in dark clothing with clothover his face. Jingim didn’t recognize the man but he did recognize theuniform.

“Hashs—”

Aknife came hurtling his direction, on course to skewer his throat. He dodged,and the assassin was on him. He blocked another knife strike but caught a kneeto the sternum. The man was quick. Jingim dodged another blow and tried tocatch his breath. Getting some distance between himself and his attacker, hedrew his sword. He hadn’t expected trouble tonight, but he carried it with himeverywhere. These days, you never knew.

Heheld it steadily in front of him. “Who sent you?”

Ofcourse the assassin didn’t answer. He tucked the knife away silently and drewout, instead, a length of cloth.

Jingimnarrowed his eyes. It felt off. But enough hesitation. He lunged forward. Thesword nearly pierced the assassin’s chest, but at the last second, the clothtwisted and tangled around it and the sword flew out of Jingim’s grasp and downto the floor. Before he could step away the assassin stabbed him in the gut, asharp slice that sank deep before Jingim jumped back.

Hepressed down on the wound, hard. The assassin sheathed his knife and regardedhim coolly.

“Youmad bastard,” Jingim gasped. “You think you’re untouchable?”

Theassassin cocked his head.

“Ihave seen your kind die. I have seen them scream and beg. You are not as strongas you think.”

Hecast around with one hand for the hilt of his sword, now buried in cloth andstraw, while holding his guts in with the other. The assassin touched a hand tohis chest—a brief, maybe wry, salute—and walked out. Jingim heard the dooragain creak closed.

Soeither he hadn’t been sent to kill Jingim but merely to wound him or he thoughtJingim was as good as dead already and didn’t like to kick a dog who wasalready down. The latter was more likely. The straw below Jingim was alreadypuddling with blood. Jingim cursed and ripped some cloth off the bottom of hisrobe, which he wrapped around the wound, around his waist. And he tried tothink of what to do next.

Thestables were not very near his room. They were near Byamba’s, but Byamba andAhmad were the only ones who knew Jingim would be here tonight, and for somereason they still weren’t here, even though it was long past time. He had tooperate under the assumption that this treachery had been planned by one ofthem, distasteful as the thought was.

Whichleft Jingim making a decision he bitterly resented—instead of going to the roomof someone he at least wanted to trust for aid, he headed to the livingquarters of someone he was fairly certain he couldn’t, but who at least was tooinept to plot something of this kind.

TheLatin. Marco Polo.

Hispride would be hurt, but his body was in a worse state, and it was more importantto his survival. The stab wound was still leaking despite his makeshiftbandages. Funnily enough the robe was already red, but the blood was making itdarken. He pressed down as he walked. His hands were sticky, and along with theecho of his footsteps, he could hear a tell-tale dripping, regular and almostpatient. Every step was jarring.

Step,drip, step, drip, step, drip. Drip drip drip.

Hepressed harder.

Whenhe reached Polo’s door, he spared a hand to knock. Hard. Still, a torturousmoment passed before Polo answered. Their eyes met before Polo’s eyes droppeddown to Jingim’s torso. He gaped.

“Thereare more Hashshashin in our city,” Jingim said. He pushed in past Polo, who wasstill frozen in the doorway. “I need cloth and you should alert the guard.Probably a doctor as well.”

“PrinceJingim…”

“Now,Latin,” Jingim said. “You wouldn’t want me dying on your doorstep. My fathermight be fond of you but that’s not something he would overlook.”

Hesank down on Polo’s narrow bed, listening to him scramble. After what seemedlike forever the cloth arrived. Polo hovered as Jingim wrapped it on top of theold bandage, now already soaked and doing a poor job of staunching the wound.Jingim glared at him.

“Isaid to fetch the guard.”

“Yousaid to keep you from dying,” Polo said. “Please, my prince, let me help.”

“Adoctor would be more useful. Now, go.”

Byambaand Ahmad had good excuses for their absence. The same excuse, actually. Bothclaimed to have received a letter in Jingim’s handwriting, stamped with atleast a good facsimile of his seal, telling them the time of the meeting hadchanged to an hour later. The letters had been pushed under their doors—nomessenger could be identified. Ahmad could produce sucha letter. Byamba said hehad burned his for the sake of secrecy, and could produce only edges ofparchment from the ash of his lamp.

ThisJingim knew from the doctor, who brought both medicines and news. His motherhad brought updates as well. They were the only visitors he had received sofar. Both Byamba and Ahmad had requested an audience, and he had refused themboth. He would not refuse them forever, but until he could face them, hispossible murderers, without so much as flinching, he did not want to see theirfaces. He would not show them weakness.

Kublaihad not visited, nor had he sent any messages. Rumor had it he was angry. Ragewas good—concern, in person, might have been better, but Jingim knew betterthan to expect that. Besides, in person Kublai might well expressdisappointment that Jingim hadn’t been able to fend the assassin off, andJingim was already disappointed enough in himself.

SoJingim kept visitors away. Except for one. He summoned Marco Polo.

“Myfather says your investigation into the matter of the assassins turned upnothing, even after the voyage I sent you on. That you could come to noconclusion.”

Polobowed. “That is correct, my prince.”

He’dgotten into the habit of calling Jingim that. Jingim didn’t much like the habit—itwas familiar, and it gave the impression of loyalty that Polo probably didn’thave. It made Jingim want to trust him when he knew he couldn’t. Even thesewords could well be lies—Polo would lie if Kublai asked him to. That was only right,to obey the Khan, but it would have been nice if someone would give Jingim thetruth, a straightforward answer, for once in his life.

Hesighed. “Well, here is another lead for you. I expect you will follow itthoroughly.”

“Yes,my prince.” Polo bowed again. At least he was respectful. “I hope you are doingbetter.”

“I’mnot doing any worse. That would be difficult.” Jingim snorted. “The doctor saidit was good he got to me when he did. You may yet earn my trust.” At least insmall things, and efficiency. “Impress me.”

Onefinal bow. “I’ll do my best.”

Withthat, Polo was dismissed, and Jingim sighed. There. It was out of his hands—Kublaiwanted him to stay out of it, so he would, even if it was his own assassinationas well as Kublai’s. He knew the value of patience. Soon he would be back incourt, and he would have a scar but would pretend that the attempt had donenothing to shake him. Maybe it would fool Byamba and Ahmad or whoever elsemight have tried to kill him. Probably it wouldn’t be enough to scare theculprit off. But there was nothing else Jingim could do. For now he would haveto rest.

[evieonic]

Masterlist! (UPDATED: 8/21/2021)

Here’s a masterlist of all my current fics. As new ones are published, they’ll be added to the list. They are listed by publication date, with the title as a link followed by a summary of the work. If there are any trigger warnings, they are added as well. So is length of the work, fandoms and pairings. Please read the tags before reading the work. These links are attached to the fic itself so before reading, please take the time to read the tags.

You Were Good To Me (Published: Feb/6/2021)

       Pairing: Dazai x Chuuya

       Fandom: Bungou Stray Dogs

       Trigger Warning: Suicide by train. 

        Length: 1039 Words, 1 Chapter. Completed.

        Platforms: Ao3 (Link in Title)

        Summary: “I shouldn’t have left you,” Dazai whimpered. 

Chuuya couldn’t see him but his tears were falling onto his face as he cradled his head. He wished he could push him away from the train tracks but he couldn’t. He didn’t exist in the same plane as him. 

Chuuya only smiled at that, closing his eyes as he heard the sound of the train coming closer. “It’s okay. We weren’t meant for this world anyway,” he said. 

Then the train came. 

And Chuuya was no more.

I Love You (Even Though You Don’t Love Me Back) (Published: Feb/6/2021)

     Pairing: Dazai x Chuuya

     Fandom: Bungou Stray Dogs

     Trigger Warning: None.

      Length: 3478 Words, 1 Chapter. Completed.

      Platforms: Ao3 (Link in Title)

      Summary: Once Chuuya finally realized he was in love with Dazai, he was going to tell him. 

He was going to tell the one man who used him, manipulated him, the one man who he knew he should never confess his love to. 

But all of that pain was in the past. Dazai was a new man. A man who wanted to be good to Chuuya. So it was time to tell him his feelings. 

But there was one problem. Dazai doesn't feel the same.

Order Made (Published: Feb/6/2021)

    Pairing: Ash x Eiji

    Fandom: Banana Fish

    Trigger Warning: None.

     Length: 2467 Words, 1 Chapter. Completed.

     Platforms: Ao3 (Link in Title)

     Summary: Many people don't realize when you die, you go through a recreation process. A process to forget your past life and become someone new. This is a retelling of how that process goes.

Too Late (Published: Feb/9/2021)

   Pairing: Dazai x Chuuya

   Fandom: Bungou Stray Dogs

   Trigger Warning: None.

    Length: 1006 Words, 1 Chapter. Completed.

    Platforms: Ao3 (Link in Title)

    Summary: Those three sugary sweet words held the whole world for Chuuya. It was all he hoped to hear from Dazai even though he always knew he'd never hear it. 

He had lost hope to hear it, so he kept his own thoughts to himself. 

But then at the worst moment possible, that bastard just had to confess and finally tell Chuuya the words he had always hoped to hear. 

"I love you." 

It was so perfect. 

Except the fact that Dazai was bleeding out of his chest and seconds away from death. 

How unlucky for Chuuya.

From Way Back When (Published: Feb/10/2021)

   Pairing: Ash x Eiji

   Fandom: Banana Fish

   Trigger Warning: None.

   Length: 2214 Words, 1 Chapter. Completed.

   Platforms: Ao3 (Link in Title)

   Summary: An old Japanese urban legend; When a person dies and is reborn, their face becomes the face of the person they loved most in their past life. 

Adapted legend based off of this; When a person dies and is reborn, their new life contains aspects based off of the life the person they loved most had. 

Example, if a boy who is Italian with red hair and freckles and lived in Turkey, say that a girl fell in love with this boy and died. She would’ve been reborn, possibly, as an italian boy with freckles with an attraction to red hair and to Turkish culture. 

Jayden is honestly just curious about Japanese legends. But he can't help but wonder if the strange thoughts he sometimes gets where he remembers a boy with blond hair and green eyes like his own... 

Is that someone he loved once in a past life?

From Now On (Published: Feb/12/2021)

  Pairing: Dazai x Chuuya

  Fandom: Bungou Stray Dogs

  Trigger Warning: None.

   Length:  6130 Words, 1 Chapter. Completed.

   Platforms: Ao3 (Link in Title)

   Summary: When Dazai left the mafia in hopes of fulfilling his promise to Odasaku to protect the weak and save the orphans, he never really thought he'd start that promise off by adopting a little girl. 

And then another little girl.

And then another. 

Until Dazai's family grew to the point where he had nearly five children. 

But there's still one thing missing in his little family... 

Chuuya.

This House For You (Published: Feb/17/2021)

    Pairing: Akutagawa x Atsushi

    Fandom: Bungou Stray Dogs

    Trigger Warning: Suspected Cheating.

    Length:  4498 Words, 1 Chapter. Completed.

    Platforms: Ao3 (Link in Title)

    Summary: Even though Dazai and Chuuya are more than willing to give Aku and Sushi more money for the house, neither of them want to take more than they've already been given. 

But Aku is a little more willing to take than Atsushi. He has a special surprise for the love of his life and he's going to work hard to make that dream come true. 

OR: 

Akutagawa is out and about 24/7, Atsushi begins to think he's cheating.

By The Time Chuuya Gets Home, Dazai Always Pretends To Be Dead (Published: Feb/20/2021)

     Pairing: Dazai x Chuuya

     Fandom: Bungou Stray Dogs

     Trigger Warning: Suicide attempts done in a light/comedic manner.

     Length:  3022 Words, 1 Chapter. Completed.

     Platforms: Ao3 (Link in Title)

     Summary: Every time Chuuya comes home from work he gets an unexpected surprise, a surprise that really should scare every spouse whenever they come home, which is to see their husband dead on the ground. 

OR: 

Dazai always pretends to be dead by the time his popular, rockstar husband gets home, and as weird as it sounds, they both love it.

The Best Kind Of Mystery (Published: Feb/24/2021)

    Pairing: Ranpo x Poe

    Fandom: Bungou Stray Dogs

    Trigger Warning: None.

    Length:  1966 Words, 1 Chapter. Completed.

    Platforms: Ao3 (Link in Title)

    Summary: It's Ranpo's birthday today and Edgar has a special mystery collection for him to solve that will change their lives forever. 

Four books, four words. 

Will Ranpo be able to guess it?

Dance With Me In The Rain (Published Feb/28/2021)

     Pairing: Langa x Reki

     Fandom: Sk8: The Infinity

     Trigger Warning: None.

     Length:  1581 Words, 1 Chapter. Completed.

     Platforms: Ao3 (Link in Title)

     Summary: “It’s just thunder you know,” Langa said, gently, “you’re okay.”

Reki immediately relaxed, “I know,” he said, looking up to him, “but it’s loud, it’s kind of nerve-racking.” 

“Well, then what if we…,” Langa pondered, thinking up something that could keep Reki distracted from the thunder. Aha! “What if we sing?” 

“Sing?” Reki gave him a look, “you want us to… sing.”

“Well, singing and dancing in the rain is fun sometimes,” Langa pouted, “and it would keep you distracted.”

The redhead gave him a doubtful look but laughed and indulged him, “okay, let’s try that.” 

OR: 

On their way home in the rain, the thunder is scaring Reki so Langa tries to distract him by asking him to sing and dance with him in the rain.

The Misadventures Of No. 7 Hanako-kun and No. 8 Yashiro Nene (First Published: Feb/27/2021, Last Updated: March/1/2021)

    Pairing: Hanako x Nene

    Fandom: Toilet Bound Hanako-Kun

    Trigger Warning: None.

    Length:  4387 Words, 3 Chapters. Ongoing.

    Platforms: Ao3 (Link in Title)

    Summary: Have you heard this rumor? 

Several years ago, there was a girl at our very school who fell in love with a ghost. 

She denied her feelings for him at first but eventually she realized she loved him so much that she wanted to be with him for all time. 

But because she was alive and he was a ghost, their lives would never be able to flow the same. 

Each day, she would get older, and he would most likely stay the same. So one day, in order to stay with him, she made a wish. 

She made a wish that she be made a ghost as well so she could stay with him until they could both pass over together. 

And even though the boy tried to tell her not to because he wanted her to live. He loved her too. 

So eventually, he granted her wish. 

And together, in the last stall of the girl’s bathroom, you can ask the two lovers to grant you a wish in regards to happiness or love. 

If your wish is pure of heart, they will grant it, together.

But who knows if such a tale is true, right?

OR: 

The fluffy and sweet misadventures of the school's seventh wonder - the ghost couple of No. 7 Hanako-kun and No. 8 Yashiro Nene - and their human (friend) assistant, Yuki Hakanara!

What You Mean To Me (Published: March/3/2021)

   Pairing: Dazai x Chuuya

   Fandom: Bungou Stray Dogs

   Trigger Warning: None.

   Length:  1559 Words, 1 Chapter. Completed.

   Platforms: Ao3 (Link in Title)

   Summary: “Why do you never react when I touch you?” Dazai asked curiously. 

At first, Chuuya was confused by that. He did react. Depending on the touch he would blush, shiver, moan, he’d react in different ways. 

“I do react,” he said, “what do you mean?”       

“I mean when I say sweet truthful things about who you are,” Dazai smiled with a look in his eyes as if he already knew the answer, “when i’m talking about how human you are.”

OR: 

Chuuya doesn't believe in his worth as a person and Dazai is quick to correct that.

What Once Was Stolen (Published: March/5/2021)

   Pairing: Dazai x Chuuya

   Fandom: Bungou Stray Dogs

   Trigger Warning: Suicide Attempt.

    Length:  5394 Words, 1 Chapter. Completed.

    Platforms: Ao3 (Link in Title)

    Summary: It's been a long time since Dazai went deaf. It was hard at first, but the change made Chuuya's relationship with his husband much closer than before. 

They read together, sign together, cuddle almost constantly because Dazai likes to hear the vibrations in his voice. 

But now, they have good news! Yosano knows a doctor who can cure him. 

There's just one tiny problem. 

Dazai's afraid of losing everything they have now and will go back to the way they used to be. 

Back when they were too afraid to show their true feelings.

I’ve Fallen Into An Impossible Love (Published: March/8/2021)

     Pairing: Xiao x Venti

     Fandom: Genshin Impact

    Trigger Warning: None

     Length: 4796 Words, 1 Chapter. Completed.

     Platforms: Ao3 (Link in Title)

     Summary: “Childe,” Xiao glared at him, “when is he going to come on, I can’t stay any longer.”

“Just be patient, man, he’s the next act!” Childe said with an easy smile. Xiao only sighed, not liking that answer.

He had exams to study for, sleep he had to get so he wouldn’t be dead in the morning. This was a mistake, a worthless, worthless mist-

“Good evening, everyone!!” A cheerful voice rang out and Xiao looked up at the stage to see a boy with black braided hair, green emerald eyes, dressed up in a cute outfit with an adorable smile as he beamed at the crowd as if everyone was his personal friend and he was happy to see them.

Xiao’s jaw fell open from the sight of him, his eyes going wide.

As he started singing and dancing as if he was happy to be alive, Xiao could feel his heart beating faster and faster, his cheeks getting redder and redder.

Is this really what angels look like?

He was about to get his heart calm when…

Venti's eyes met with his for a second and he beamed at him, waving at him as if he was overjoyed to see him.

Oh, that did it. He was doomed now.

He has now fallen into an impossible love with an idol who doesn't even know him.

What Dazai Means To Chuuya (Published: March/9/2021)

   Pairing: Dazai x Chuuya

   Fandom: Bungou Stray Dogs

   Trigger Warning: Implied/Referenced self harm and self harm scars.

    Length:  935 Words, 1 Chapter. Completed.

    Platforms: Ao3 (Link in Title) Tumblr: Link to Post

    Summary: He sniffled once, he sniffled twice, bringing his hand to his mouth to cover it as tears slipped down his eyes, flowing down his cheeks against his will. He tried to keep quiet so Chuuya wouldn’t notice but of course he did.        

       And he only smiled adoringly at him as if he was the most beautiful person he had ever seen. And Dazai was the most beautiful person he had ever seen and would ever want to see. Chuuya said nothing, only putting a gentle hand, caressing Dazai’s cheek as he pulled his hand away from his mouth so the same treatment he gave his left arm can be given to his right.

       No words were spoken. They didn’t need to be. Dazai understood the message Chuuya was giving him and it was breaking him but he didn’t mind it. It just felt so overwhelming to know that he was loved.

        And someone was happy he was alive and cared about the pain he has felt in the past.

OR: Chuuya kisses and worships Dazai body so he will know and believe that he is truly loved.

In Simple Joy and Peace (Updated: May/3/2021)

     Pairing: Luffy x Sanji

     Fandom: One Piece

    Trigger Warning: None.

      Length: 8552 Words, 2 Chapters. Completed.

     Platforms: Both Parts on Ao3 (Link in Title) Tumblr: Link to Part 1. Link to Part 2.

     Summary: He chuckled, tightening his arm around Luffy to bring him a little closer, “Oh, i know what you mean now,” he lowered his voice to a more charming tone as he leaned forward to kiss the black haired man but then he pulled away slightly, grinning cheekily, “your birthday?”

     “Sanji!” Luffy glared at him, propping himself up on his elbows as he slapped Sanji’s chest. “You know full well that tomorrow isn’t my birthday!”

     Sanji only laughed and brought his angry love back into his hold, “I know, I know, I’m sorry,” he chuckled and this time kissed him for real, making Luffy melt against him instantly. He pulled back to stare into those chocolate brown eyes he’s come to adore and decided to quit teasing the poor man.

      “It’s our wedding day,” he said softly, watching as those darling eyes widened and a blush dusted his husband-to-be’s cheeks.

     Luffy smiled as if he had been reminded of the most happiest memory he ever had and that’s exactly how he felt. Tomorrow, in the evening, the two of them were going to be wed. They would husbands, bound together in eternal love, until death do they part. And even after death, Sanji would never let Luffy part from him.

Damn Sick Bird (Published: March/16/2021)

   Pairing: Crocodile x Doflamingo

   Fandom: One Piece

   Trigger Warning: None

  Length:  949 Words, 1 Chapter. Completed.

  Platforms: Ao3 (Link in Title) Tumblr: Link to Post.

  Summary: “You know,” he said, propping his chin into his hand, “next time I tell you that it’s going to rain, you should take an umbrella and the car to get to your office, you should probably listen to me.”

     Crocodile let out a growl, uncovering his face so his death glare would reach him, “The forecast on my phone was saying otherwise. And usually, I never get sick.”

     There it was, “yeah usually, you never get sick, that doesn’t actually mean never.” He grinned, “I know you’re handsome enough to pretty much be an immortal god of beauty, but that doesn’t mean you actually are one, love.”

OR: Crocodile gets sick and Doffy takes care of him.

One True Weakness (Published: March/17/2021)

     Pairing: Sukuna x Yuuji

     Fandom: Jujutsu Kaisen

    Trigger Warning: None.

     Length: 922 Words, 1 Chapter. Completed.

     Platforms: Ao3 (Link in Title) Tumblr: Link to Post.

     Summary: It was a battle, a fight, they were trying to kill each other.

But then Sukuna's long black nails grazed Yuuji's neck...

And the poor boy snorted revealing his one true weakness. He was ticklish.

OR: Sukuna discovers how ticklish Yuuji is and stops their fight because he's found new entertainment in seeing Yuuji laugh.

These Feelings Of Love Just Won't Stop!!! (Published:  04/26/2021)        

        Pairing: Zhongli x Childe

        Fandom: Genshin Impact

       Trigger Warning: None.

       Length: 6432 Words, 1 Chapter. Completed.

       Platforms: Ao3 (Link in Title)

       Summary: Having a crush on someone is a wonderful thing... 

Except when that crush has lasted for roughly eight years and that beautiful, living god of a man is still oblivious to your flirting. 

Someone please save Childe's poor soul, Zhongli and his handsome face is going to be the death of him!!!

OR:

Childe has had a major crush on Zhongli ever since they were in middle school and no amount of flirting is getting him closer to having this man realize he adores him. But maybe sparks will start flying when Zhongli asks him to spend spring break with him.

BONUS: 

It's basically shy, gay-panicking 24/7 Childe x oblivious to gay flirting and obviously gay flirting model student Zhongli.

A Corset Can Kill A Man (Published:  05/3/2021)

         Pairing: Dazai x Chuuya

         Fandom: Bungou Stray Dogs

         Trigger Warning: None, however, this is NSFW, meaning it is explict and 18+. Please read the tags on ao3 before reading.

         Length: 5949 Words, 1 Chapter. Completed.

         Platforms: Ao3 (Link in Title)

         Summary: Dazai tends to dress up in lingerie for his loving husband but he decides one night to surprise Chuuya with something new...

Dazai in a corset, anyone?

Wedding Night For Three (Published:  05/8/2021)

        Pairing: Dazai x Fyodor x Shibusawa

        Fandom: Bungou Stray Dogs

        Trigger Warning: None, however, this is NSFW, meaning it is explicit and 18+. Please read the tags on ao3 before reading. 

       Length: 4866 Words, 1 Chapter. Completed.

        Platforms: Ao3 (Link in Title)

        Summary: Dazai had never dreamed of marrying not just one - but two people - and actually loving them with all his heart. 

He hadn't expected himself to fall in love with Fyodor and Shibusawa who were already boyfriends at the time and then having the three of them get married to each other.

The wedding was everything Dazai wanted, he couldn't be happier.

Except for one thing: Fyodor and Shibusawa out of their suits and fucking him into the goddamn mattress.

A Shock Collar Surprise For Daddy (Published:  05/12/2021)

           Pairing: Dazai x Chuuya

           Fandom: Bungou Stray Dogs

           Trigger Warning: Choking. Dazai pushes himself too far. This is NSFW, meaning it is explicit and 18+. Please read the tags on ao3 before reading.

           Length: 7868 Words, 1 Chapter. Completed.

           Platforms: Ao3 (Link in Title)

           Summary: “Did you play with this new toy by yourself?”

“A little bit, sir,” Dazai stammered, sliding into his role quickly. “But only to make sure it was at a shock level comfortable for me.”

         “Ohhh, just for that, hmm?” Chuuya hummed, a dark smirk playing on his lips, “you didn’t touch yourself either? I should hope you didn’t because that’s a very important rule that I had hoped a good little boy like you would follow.”

         “N-No,” Dazai stammered, “I promise, I didn’t touch myself at all.”

         “So it was just trying to make sure the shock collar worked for you?” Chuuya smiled, “that’s such an honorable deed. I feel so honored. But there’s one little problem, dearest, i’m sure you know exactly what I mean.”

         “I-I’m not supposed to prepare toys that can cause pain and adjust them for myself by myself,” Dazai said, whimpering as Chuuya covered his jaw in kisses. He grinned, a rush of mischief overwhelming his senses, “I’m supposed to let Daddy help me.”

Age Before Beauty (Published:  05/19/2021)

           Pairing: Dazai x Chuuya

           Fandom: Bungou Stray Dogs

           Trigger Warning: Self harm descriptions, past suicide attempt descriptions, suicide, depression.

           Length: 4165 Words, 1 Chapter. Completed.

           Platforms: Ao3 (Link in Title)

           Summary: Dazai fell onto the bed, on top of Chuuya and his arms wrapped tight around him as Chuuya kept hitting his back and screaming.

“Please!” He choked out, “Please, don’t go! They’ll kill you - you know they’re going to kill you - you know it!”Chuuya sobbed, raking his hands down his back. He wasn’t angry, not really, he just felt so hopeless. He had to touch him, everywhere and really touch him. This was going to be the last time he touched him and he wanted to make sure he remembered it.

Dazai tightened his arms around him. He, too, wasn’t angry. His heart was shattering like a piece of sugar glass. Falling apart like 100 year old paper. Why did things have to come to this? Maybe if this was happening long before he fell so deeply in love with this man, he'd be happy about this situation. It once was his dream after all.

But now he didn't want this at all. All he wanted was to live with Chuuya, spend days with him, grow old with him, be with him forever until death do they part.

However, unfortunately, someone has decided to ruthlessly attack the ADA and endanger everyone's lives, including Chuuya's, but they can be saved with a heavy price.

And the price is...

Dazai Osamu's life.

Dazai's Shinigami Record (Published:  05/26/2021)

     Pairing: Dazai x Chuuya

     Fandom: Bungou Stray Dogs

     Trigger Warning: Major Character Deaths, talk of death, suicide mentions, suicide.

      Length: 2882 Words, 1 Chapter. Completed.

      Platforms: Ao3 (Link in Title)

      Summary: Before there was time, there were two Gods, the God of the Sun and God of the Moon. One day, these two Gods came together and fell in love, creating the earth, the humans, and the demigods that would help them care for the mortals. One such demigod was the demigod of mischief and death, Dazai.

People would come to him to pray for loved ones or for themselves not to reach untimely deaths or to pray for mischievous things (which was always Dazai’s favorite matter to take care of.)

And while Dazai did revel in the power that he had, he also hated it. Dealing with the matters of death was depressing to him, but what he hated most was how the relationship between mortal and god worked.

Dazai had been warned several times that the relationship between mortal and god had to be distanced. But he never listened to such advice.

But there then came a day where his whole life changed. He met a man with fiery red hair and beautiful blue eyes, a man so gorgeous, so lovely, that he had to have him as his own.

They fell in love.

And Dazai's painful, heartbreaking future was sealed.

I'm Not Going To Lose You (Published:  05/27/2021)

        Pairing: Chris Redfield x Ethan Winters

        Fandom: Resident Evil 8

        Trigger Warning: None.

        Length: 3492 Words, 1 Chapter. Completed.

        Platforms: Ao3 (Link in Title) Tumblr: Link to Post

       Summary: “Chris…,” Ethan said again, stopping in his tracks, forcing Chris to look at him. “I don’t think I can keep going.”

“No, you can,” Chris insisted, “you have to."

Ethan only tried to push Rose into his arms again, his eyes beginning to tear up. He needed Chris to run so they both could survive. If they both survived, then he could die happy. "You both need to survive, okay? There’s no time to argue about this so you should just-”

Before Ethan could even finish his words, Chris wrapped a hand around the back of his head, his gloved fingers lacing with his hair while the other hand pushed the baby further into his grasp. Ethan didn’t have time to question the movement because the next thing he knew, Chris’s lips were on his own. His eyes widened as Chris pushed him further into the kiss, deepening it as his eyes slowly fluttered closed.

The kiss was warm and sweet, gentle and loving, it was everything he could ever want. It was short, too. Chris pulled away before he had a chance to kiss back.“

I’m not going to lose you." Chris said, "Not again.”

Papa Dazai (Published:  06/4/2021)

        Pairing: Dazai Osamu x Chuuya Nakahara

        Fandom: Bungou Stray Dogs

        Trigger Warning: Major Character Death.

        Length: 1437 Words, 1 Chapter. Completed.

        Platforms: Ao3 (Link in Title) Tumblr: Link to Post

        Summary: “The fuck is this?” He grumbled, placing the hotdogs on the table. “Who is this?”

Dazai shrugged, allowing himself to come crashing down to reality, “I don’t know. He just approached me, calling me dad.”

“Daddy,” The little boy mumbled again before giggling and pointed at Chuuya, “Dada!”

“Nope,” Chuuya shook his head, “not dada.”

“But Chuuya~!” Dazai whined.

“Dazai, are you serious right now? It’s a kid and not even our kid!” Chuuya said, always being the voice of reason.“

But Chuuya, look at him!” Dazai smiled, lifting the boy onto his lap, “he looks just like us and plus we’d make such good parents! You’d make such a good dad, I just know it.”

Chuuya sighed angrily, reaching for a napkin and wiped at the little boy’s face. “Fine! We can at least have fun with him until we can find his parents, okay?!”

And with that, Dazai and Chuuya suddenly became fathers.

Ever Since July (Published:  06/23/2021)

        Pairing: Dazai Osamu x Chuuya Nakahara

        Fandom: Bungou Stray Dogs

        Trigger Warning: Major Character Death, depression, suicide, implied /referenced depression and self harm, hallucinations. Angst with no happy ending. Please do not read if it triggers you in any way.

        Length: 4252 Words, 1 Chapter. Not Completed.

        Platforms: Ao3 (Link in Title)

        Summary: Dazai couldn’t quite place it even if he wanted to.

He knew there was something he was forgetting but he couldn’t quite place it. And to be quite honest, a part of him knew he didn’t really want to.

“What are you doing here, sitting so silently?” Said the adorable redhead leaning over him, blocking the sun from his eyes. So much for peace and quiet, Dazai thought, playfully. His peace could be ruined by Chuuya any second of the day if he so wished to.

“Enjoying the weather,” Dazai answered, watching as the sun made Chuuya’s eyes appear as if they were literal sapphires, all sparkly and beautiful.

“Really? You?” Chuuya grinned, “you usually never enjoy the weather.”

Dazai chuckled. He sometimes took pleasure in the small things… Even though it was rare.

He knew whatever he was forgetting, it had to do with Chuuya. But he wasn’t going to focus on it. He’d rather focus on how gorgeous he looked today; his red hair glowing like flames and his denim jacket somehow looking even sexier on him than it did the day before.

Dazai could melt from the sight of Chuuya in that jacket but... he knew something was wrong. And it's been that way ever since that day in July.

Lovers In The Moonlight (Published:  07/14/2021)

      Pairing: Sebastian Michaelis x Grelle Sutcliff

      Fandom: Black Butler

      Trigger Warning: Gender dysphoria discussions. This fic is also a songfic, if you'd like to listen along as you read, the song is called You're My Lover by Birdtalker.

      Length: 4267 Words, 1 Chapter. Completed.

      Platforms: Ao3 (Link in Title) Tumblr: Link to Post

      Summary: It was the cold, empty space beside Sebastian that woke him up in the middle of the night. It was rare for Sebastian to wake up so randomly but he immediately knew what did it when he realized that his arms weren’t around the precious warm body of his beloved wife, Grelle.

Ever since he married his beautiful wife and began to sleep in the same bed with her, he couldn’t sleep nor stay asleep unless he felt her warmth beside him. He just couldn’t do it as much as it frustrated him. He had very, very, very few weaknesses and one of them just had to be something so petty like Grelle’s presence beside him whenever he did… well… anything.

So where could she have gone?    

The Man of My Dreams (Published:  07/26/2021)

     Pairing: Kazuha x Kazuha’s Friend (fanonically called Tomo)

     Fandom: Genshin Impact

    Trigger Warning: Pre Updates 2.0 spoilers, Major Character Death (kinda not really tho), Graphic Violence (kinda not really tho. If you have played through the story quest featuring Kazuha and got to the part about Tomo, that’s why these tags are here because that scene is described again in the fic.) This fic is also a songfic, the song is called Hitchcock by Yorushika. 100% recommend listening while reading, though you don’t have to. Song lyrics are in bold and italics.  

     Length: 5037 Words, 1 Chapter. Completed.

     Platforms: Ao3 (Link in Title) Tumblr: Link to Post

     Summary: He couldn’t place it.

He watched as the raindrops fell, gently hitting the ground, creating puddles as he sat there on the bus, his cheek pressed against the cold window.

On any other day, he would be smiling, thinking of flowery words that could match the way this scene appeared to him. But right now, he couldn’t do such a thing.

Because he was too busy thinking about the dream he had last night. A dream about a world called Teyvat, in a beautiful city called Inazuma.

Normally, anyone would shrug off these dreams. However, Kazuha has these dreams every single night as the season of fall dwells closer.

And in every dream, there's always a man, a man whom he doesn't know nor has he ever met... yet somehow he knows that this man is important to him.

As if he is someone he lost long ago and has been missing ever since.

Remedy For A Broken Heart (Published:  08/15/2021)

     Pairing: Platonic only, characters: Gojo, Yuuji, and Megumi

     Fandom: Jujutsu Kaisen

     Trigger Warning: None, though technically contains a break-up and non-consensual tickling though it's all in good fun.

     Length: 1595 Words, 1 Chapter. Completed.

     Platforms: Ao3 (Link in Title) Tumblr: Link to Post

     Summary: Yuuji's heart got broken by some chick at school and absolutely refuses to go to class. Megumi takes it into his own hands to get the strawberry blond happy again by calling Gojo-sensei who has some... talented tickling fingers.

Ticklish Experiments (Published:  08/21/2021)

    Pairing: Diluc/Zhongli

    Fandom: Genshin Impact

    Trigger Warning: None.

    Length: 1487 Words, 1 Chapter. Completed.

    Platforms: Ao3 (Link in Title) Tumblr: Link to Post

    Summary: Venti keeps telling Zhongli about this new thing mortals do called "tickling" and he wants to try it out on Diluc.

[recentanimenews]

Wonder Egg Priority – 03 – Soft-Boiled

The bright colors and dark themes continue to intermesh as the third girl of the series is introduced. Kawai Rika’s ash-blonde hair is set off by a hot pink highlight and a magenta-and-purple jacket. Like Ai, she has a statue of someone she’s trying to save, though she makes a point to tell her she’s fat and ugly and her palm sweaty. When Ai meets her at the egg gachapon, Rika is on the ground, holding her ribs, but soon recovers miraculously.

After commenting on Ai’s heterochromia, and promptly asks for some spare change. Aka and Ura-Aka, always seated around a game of go, aren’t concerned with the injuries the girls endure; it’s part of the job. Ai’s excitement to meet a new egg heroine quickly shifts to bemusement, as her interaction with Rika feels like a “one-girl handshake event”, as Ai puts it to Neiru, with whom she’s now texting on the regular.

Between barging in on Ai’s visit with Neiru, always making sure people know her name is Kawai because she’s so darn cute, calling the doctor hot, labeling Neiru a tsundere, and most distressingly eating up all the kiwi, Rika creates the impression of a superficial, shameless, self-involved brat. Nevertheless, she keeps following Ai around, inviting herself over to her house (causing Ai’s counselor Sawaki—whom Rika also calls hot—to leave) and unilaterally deciding to sleep over.

When Ai tells her about why she’s currently a shut-in, Rika immediately jumps to the conclusion Ai is seeking attention from the hot Sawaki. Then Ai tells her about Koito, then asks about the person Rika is trying to save. Rika makes clear the “ugly fatty” Chiemi isn’t her friend, but her fan, and also refers to her as a patron and a wallet.

As Rika bathes we see scars on her arm from cutting, which she’s promised to stop. It was clear she was using a veneer of carefree bravado to hide deeper issues, but the scars confirm it without anyone saying a word. She says everyone’s the same in that when you “scratch the surface” they’re all “slimy”—something you could also say of an egg. Neiru texts Ai to be careful with Rika, warning that “junior idol could mean bedroom stuff.” That Ai earnestly asks “like pillow fights?” really says it all about Ai’s sheltered existence.

Ai dreams of a memory of her walking in on Koito crying while in Sawaki’s arms, adding a fresh dimension to their past together. One could interpret such a scene in any number of ways both innocent and otherwise, but Ai quickly apologizes and shuts the classroom door, believing she’d seen something she shouldn’t have. She’s also pondered ever since whether Sawaki was a factor Koito’s suicide. She wakes up in her cocoon bed, over 50% of which is being taken up by the smaller Rika.

Ai then awakes in Rika’s dream. Due to their proximity in bed they “synchonized”, as Ura-Aka tells them, and it’s Rika’s dream because she’s apparently the one with the stronger feelings. They crack their eggs at once, revealing two fans of the singer “Yu-Yu”. They were so fanatical, in fact, that when Yu-Yu committed suicide, they did the same. When Ai says “just like that?” Rika corrects her: their choice was neither easy nor casual.

When the usual horde of Seeno Evils (which Rika calls “bystanders”) starts to swarm, Rika and Ai get to work smiting them with their weapons; Rika’s two swords resembling giant versions of the box cutter she used to cut herself. It’s determined the field of flowers is too wide open, so the four girls head to a lighthouse within the nearby woods. It’s there, while they have a couple minutes to catch their breath, that Ai asks Rika to tell her about Chiemi.

After hand-waving the scars Ai spots as “just a youthful whatever”, Rika starts out by explaining the formal and emotional context of a junior-idol handshake event. When you’re only mildly popular like her group was, the lines were shorter, which meant the same fans would line up over and over. Chiemi did this with Rika, who shook her sweaty hand many hundreds of times.

Eventually, Chiemi would give Rika money. Rika accepted it, and began to expect and even rely on it. Like the two Yu-Yu fans who had “sugar daddies”, Rika saw Chiemi as a rich patron. She later learned Chiemi was shoplifting and fencing stuff to make money to give her. When Chiemi started to think of them as friends, Rika ended their relationship, ripping Chiemi off like a Band-Aid and telling her she was too fat and ugly to be anything more than a fan and a wallet.

She never saw Chiemi again until her funeral, and was forever haunted by what she saw. In a heartbreaking inversion of the geography of the handshake event, Rika and Chiemi have switched places. Peering into the open casket, Rika saw nothing but skin and bones, like a mummy. Knowing she’ll never be able to forget her if she tried, Rika took Chiemi’s hand one more time. Since then, she’s vowed to kill as many Seenos and Wonder Killers as it takes if it will bring her back.

The Seenos break through, leading to a frenetic chase up the spiraling lighthouse stairs. Ai stumbles, still processing Rika’s absolutely gutting tale, but also acknowledging that while she receded into the Seenos at a crucial time due to fear, a part of her also resented Koito for never talking to her like friends should; the kind of talking she just experienced with Rika, which helped her understand better where she’s coming from and why she is the way she is.

She also looks on the Yu-Yu fangirls with a measure of envy. They were able to die with their idol. If Koito had asked her to die with her, she thinks she would have. But what’s done is done, and what was left unsaid remains so. Ai gets back on her feet and powers up her rainbow mace, striking a very cool heroine pose at the top of the steps and assuring Rika she’ll kill ’em all with her. Rika’s quizzical reaction is priceless.

From there, we meet the fangirls’ Wonder Killer, an older woman who stalked Yu-Yu and pushed her into suicide. Ai and Rika spring into action like the pair of valiant heroines they are. Rika frees the fans by slicing off the Killer’s arm, while Ai delivers a crushing blow to the face with her mace.

What follows is why it’s particularly hazardous to engage in boss fights before you’re aware of their special moves. The Killer unleashes a cloud of dark smoke that everyone is able to dodge except Rika, who is immediately paralyzed and soon turns to stone. Before her face petrifies, she wishes Ai good luck. It’s all up to Ai now: she must protect the petrified Rika and the helpless Yu-Yu fans while defeating the biggest toughest Wonder Killer yet.

Either Ai and Rika haven’t considered that Aka and Ura-Aka are just using them, or they’re fighting even while aware of the possibility of being swindled, because they have no other choice. In any case Ai’s mettle will be tested like never before. Hopefully she can get the job done and wake up beside Rika, with neither of them too seriously injured.

By: sesameacrylic