#it is very tiny but my computer still wanted to explode while saving it

[cinimuffin]

[rapspud]

Bittersweet

Bittersweet    A/N: Decided to rewrite this one. Please enjoy.

Yoongi looked at your friends as he sneered at your prone form sprawled out on the ground, your fingers scrambling to find your glasses.

“Aw what’s the matter? The poor baby can't see?” He purred as he picked up your glasses and dangled them in front of your face before throwing them into the dumpster. “Have fun diving!” He cackles as he slides past your prone figure, cruelly stepping on your hand as he passes.

You could hear the snickers of his friends behind you. You watched as his best friend, Seokjin clapped Yoongi on the shoulder, and whispered, “Oi, I get the whole I hate “y/n” thing but seriously—that was a bit much don’t you think?”

Yoongi  couldn’t believe what he was hearing, “She ratted us out! So I fixed it-and now she can’t see to snitch! And shouldn’t you be on my side? You’re in just as much trouble as I am!”

Seokjin could only look at Yoongi like he had a third head, “ Yeah I guess, but still...there is-” at Yoongi’s raised eyebrow he swallowed what he wanted to say, instead choosing to leave rather than to help Yoongi’s victim, “Hey I gotta go I’ll catch you later okay?”

Yoongi smiled and waved good-bye before walking away from the group. How could he possibly explain how much he hated Y/N? No one here knew the truth about your families-how he had to share a home with you,  your family serving his. He had no respite from you. Yeah, Y/N deserved everything she got, he thought as he got into his car. Plus it's not like you wouldn’t rat him out when you got home about what happened. This time as he drove past you and saw you hunched in on yourself, he couldn’t help but feel a twinge of guilt as he saw you clutching your injured hand, staring resolute at the dumpster, knowing full well that you would go in after the glasses. After all, he knew how hard your mother worked to buy them for you, he knew how you worked 2 jobs and also kept track of your younger brothers. Deep down, he really hoped that maybe this time you would finally explode and tell everyone about all the horrid acts he committed against you. 

Except that you never did tell on him. 

In fact, you avoid Yoongi like the plague.  After finally scrambling into the dumpster and reclaiming your glasses, you clambored back out, hand still screaming in pain. As you stand there wiping the garbage from the lenses and picking off random refuse from your clothes you honestly don’t think you can sink any lower than this. You swipe grimey hands at your cheeks as hot tears run down them, thankful that you are alone. And as you walk away you begin to make plans. You couldn’t keep doing this. And with renewed energy you begin walking home, not didn’t looking back choosing instead to forge ahead, putting one foot in front of another until finally you were in your mid=twenties, and had your own little place. You were happy with your life. But you should have known. All good things must come to an end eventually. You hadn’t thought about him in years, attending school, graduating, opening up a bakery with your best friend. Essentially you were hiding, but not really. 

And then by some ill stroke of luck, he found you.

You awaken to the blaring of your alarm with a groan. Was it really 8 am? The flashing numbers of your clock inform you that it was in fact 8:59. Shit you were late. Cursing your snooze butten, you scrambled out of your bed and grabbed the cleanest clothes you could find off the floor and stumble as you attempt a whole new balancing act: pulling up your pants while holding a hot cup of coffee and a piece of toast dangling precariously from your teeth. As you run down the street towards the bus, slinging your backpack over your shoulder while you scramble to tuck your shirt in you promptly run into a solid wall and fall on your ass. Your hair is covering your face as you look up at  what you had plowed into, an apology already leaving your mouth when you got to the face. “Um…hi, uh…sorry about that.”

“Y/N. From YHSN?”

“Yes?” you become wary, no one around here really knows you as you chose to keep to yourself…“Do I know you?”

The grin that spread across the man’s face could be described as nothing less than cruel and vicious. “Yeah, Y/N L/N right? I am here to inform you that you have 24 hours to vacate the premises. Good luck.” He stated before unceremoniously dropping an envelope onto your lap and turning on her heel to leave you in a stunned heap on the floor.

What the hell had just happened? Maybe you were still dreaming?

You were dazed for a moment as your brain tried to compute the absolute absurdity of what had just happened and then you were on your feet chasing the man, yelling at him to stop but he just kept on walking.

Finally catching up to the man, you grab her arm, “What the fuck man?” you yell, “this is illegal as hell! Thirty days is the minimum!” You shove the notice back at the man, hitting him in her (very solid) chest hard.

“Y/n, Y/n, I see you're still full of venom huh? It’s completely legal actually-you see I” he leaned forward, “own the building now. And to my delight, what do I learn? I find out that Y/N L/N happens to be a tenant! Guess how happy I was to finally find you again after all these years and then get to have you vacate your home.” he laughs as you gape at him like a fish.

“Min fucking Yoongi, I do not have time for your petty ass childish bullshit! ” you hers, voice laced with venom.

“Aw kitten you remembered! I am truly honored! But alas I cant stay and chit-chat, and well, neither can you. Tata chica!” With that he jerks her arm from your grasp, sending you back to the ground in shock for the second time that morning, before climbing into an expensive black car and driving away.

You scream curses to the sky, because after 8 peaceful years, the man you had spent so long  running from and then finally forgetting, had found you. But of course, the sky only decides to rain. And as you trudge back home to call into work, (because seriously fuck this day) you can’t help but wonder how everything came to this moment. After a shower and change of clothes, you fall into your bed, allowing yourself one moment of respite before you begin to tackle this new problem, closing your eyes.

You were back there again, trapped both in a small body and the cave that haunts you as you watch helplessly at the rising water. Your tiny voice is raised, tinted with fear, “I told you we shouldn’t come here! My mama said-“

The boy next to you cut you off, “Crying ain’t gonna fix it, I will save us”

“You can't even swim,” You yell, unable to remain calm. 

“I AM GONNA SAVE US!” the small boy shouted, “so don’t cry Y/N.” He gave you a small smile, one that made you feel slightly safer and he took hold of your hand. “Follow me and don’t let go no matter what.”

“Okay,” you say, for some reason feeling braver after placing your faith along with your hand into the boy’s hand. He said he would, so of course he would save both of you. After all, he was your best friend and you don’t pick losers.

It was a lot harder though, when all was said and done. Yes, the two of you made it out of the cave alive, but not without nearly drowning, and you had slipped and injured your ankle along the way. Luckily, you did make it out, and while the two of you spent a cold wet night huddled together on the beach, you were alive. In the morning, you were rescued further as the search teams found. And while your mother had you wrapped up in her warmth and was crying and thanking the people over and over that had saved you, the same welcoming was not happening to the young boy. You could hear screaming as a woman in a fine dress and her husband yelled at the boy, your tiny hero, before there was a loud smack. You watch as the boy falls, hand clenched to her face, tears streaming down her face as her mother continues to land hard blows upon her body until she is dragged away. You cried out for you friend and as the two of you met eyes, for the first time you saw hatred reflected back at you. That was the day Min Yoongi stopped being your friend and became your tormentor.

He followed you everywhere, taunting you, breaking your things, and ultimately breaking you. Your mother finally quit working for her house the day he’d thrown your glasses into the garbage and you had come home, broken glasses in hand, face streaked with tears and reeking of garbage -you had finally confessed what had happened, what all had been happening. You had moved away, your mom working several jobs and then as well as yourself working, then you working to  pay your way through chef school and finally moving out into your own place. And all of it had just been destroyed because he found you.

You sigh looking up at your ceiling letting your anger consume you as you curse Min Yoongi to a lifetime of diarrhea. And an itchy butt. And you hoped her eyebrows fell out, just for good measure.

You look around your apartment one last time before closing the door with finality. this asshole, you think to yourself. “Just wait” you say as you look down at the address your brother had just texted you.

An hour later you stand before a gated house and ring the doorbell. And ring it. And ring it. And continue ringing it (after all it was nearly 6 am, and as you had learned that morning, if you want to ruin someone's day, do it first thing in the morning) until a sleepy figure stumbles outside and smacks your hand away. You take this opportunity to dart inside the gate and into the house carrying your things with you.

“What the hell do you think you're doing?” Yoongi yells at you from outside, beginning to stomp back to her front door. You could only grin as you take in the pajama bottoms and robe, while you stand there like a goddamn Amazonian queen, “You took my home. this is payback.” and then you dialed the police, “Yes? Officer? There’s a half naked man on my lawn, please send help! I’m so scared”

You couldn’t help the grin that covers your face as you smile at Yoongi, “Good luck asshole.” You say sweetly, before slamming the door in her face. Nothing had ever sounded so sweet as the sound of the lock turning over, followed a second later by desperate pounding at the door. And Yoongi could only pound on the door until the cops showed up and he explained that this was, in fact, her home, as well as that the intruder was actually you. The officers had asked him if he wanted you arrested and for once he let it go, telling them that you were having a lovers quarrel and apologizing that they had to come out over something so silly. As the cops pulled away, he went to the back of the house and slammed the sliding glass door open only to find the house seemingly empty. As he walked from room to room he couldn’t help but get angrier and angrier. But when he found you passed out on her bed, he paused, somehow her anger dissipating instantly. He stood there, looking at your sleeping body and wondered if you would ever know her real feelings for you. If he would ever be able to tell you. And the real question: could you forgive him? He knew it was asking a lot, but he could only hope. He sat and thought about how to express to you the things he needed to say. He wondered how exactly did one explain how guilty he felt about how he treated you, how he didn’t really understand why he went out of her way to make your life miserable back then…and then you had left him. How, when you left he realized just how broken he was inside. When he bought the building he couldn’t believe her luck when he saw your name as one of the tenants, but her old ways came back hard and for some ungodly childish reason he couldn’t control himself. That he should have been apologizing that morning and telling you how thankful he was that it had also brought you back to him. He guessed that it was far too late for him to ever have your forgiveness and he couldn’t help the smile that played on her mouth as he approached the bed. He reached out a hand to smooth back some hair that covered your face when you wherpered, “Yoongi...” he stilled, “…I’m sorry” you mumbled. What could you possibly be sorry for? He couldn’t help it, but it made him angry that you would apologize to him after everything he’d done and especially while in such a vulnerable state that the next thing he knew he was grabbing the blanket and ripping it away from your curled form. It’s momentum  sends you over the edge of the bed to land in a heap on the floor. You sit up cursing her very existence,

 “What the hell Y/N?!” He yells right back, while you could only manage to stare up at him from where you sat on the floor. But this time you weren’t having any of her bullshit. You jump up and get in her face “ What the hell? What do YOU mean what the hell? Who the hell buys a building solely to evict one person?! Are you that rich? Do you hate me that much?”

Yoongi yelled back, “Hell yeah I do!“ 

"You have issues, Min Yoongi! I did nothing to you except be born! Do you know how hard I worked to forget what you did to me? And you come just back,” you pause, swallowing thickly, you would not cry. Not here. Not now, “But not anymore! I won't let you break me again Yoongi. I am worth so much more than that!”

Exhausted, you  move to push around him but he grabs your wrists instead and pins you against the wall.

“Let me go you asshole!” you yell at him fighting back for once in your life, all while trying to hide your face and the tears that were no longer just threatening to spill over. “Can't you just hate me from a distance? I’m sorry your mom was a horrid cunt to you! I’m sorry, okay! But please, just let me go! Leave me alone” And then her hands were gone, and you were free. You couldn’t help it, you looked up and stared him in the eyes, for once determined to make him see how he wrecked you.

Yoongi could only stare at you, watching as the tears fell, tears once again caused by him, and then he heard the five words that ripped open her wounds, words he knew he deserved, said in a voice so broken he didn’t know where he should start to even attempt to repair it.

“I hate you Min Yoongi.“

He couldn’t stand it, he knew he deserved them but he just couldn’t stand there and just accept them. Accepting those words would be like giving up, and giving up probably the only pure thing he still had in her life. Had. And so he moved, not thinking about consequences, only a desire to cleanse those words from the air around him. He grabs you again, pushing you against the wall, capturing your face in one hand, forcing you to meet her eyes, while he brushes your hair away with the other, "Good. Never forget it.”

And then he crashes her mouth against yours.

You didn’t know how what was happening was happening and some stupid part of you was excited to have him pressed against you,  mouth was moving against yours and then you were responding and for some reason it felt so good–like coming home. It was like your body suddenly was against everything you wanted-you found yourself wrapping your arms around her neck and pulling him closer, deepening the kiss, a giggle bubbling up when you nipped at her lip and he groaned. and then you both were tearing at each other's clothes in desperation. And then the world stops making sense. You and Min Yoongi, enemy of the state #1 were having sex. And it was good. It felt so right, like you two had been made to fit each other only. When it was over he lay behind you, placing gentle kisses along your neck and down your collar bone. The last thing you remember before falling asleep in your enemy’s arms was Yoongi gently wherpering a muffled “I’m sorry” into your ear over and over.

When you wake, you are surprised to find an arm wrapped around your waist and you freeze as the memories of the night before come rushing back and you begin to mentally beat yourself up as you carefully slide out of the bed and grab your clothes, making a mad dash out of the house, dressing yourself along the way.

No way had you slept with Yoongi and enjoyed it. You were an idiot of the highest order. You slept with the man who wanted you homeless because he hated you.

You let out a deep sigh as you did a very new special walk of shame to your job, where your boss, Mandi greeted you by yelling, “Oi ! What cat pissed in your cheerios?”

Causing the other workers to laugh until you pinned them with your patented Crazy-eye ™, at which point they scurried away except for that moron Seokjin who slung his arm around your shoulders jovially, “So why is my favorite girl doing the walk of shame?”

You glare and shrug his arm off, “None of your business.” 

“Dude its obs-you’re like a whole 4 hours late-and you are never late. So what happened? Anyone I know?”

“You’ll just call me an idiot if I tell you.”

“I swear on cake I won't.”

You raise an eyebrow before saying a name you never thought you’d say just to see him eat his words. “Min Yoongi.”

“Shut the front door! You’re an idiot”

“The cake is ashamed of you and asks that you keep your distance.” You say as you move to the back rooms to put away your belongings.

Not giving up, Seokjin follows you, even going so far as to hand you your apron, “Seriously? Didn’t he like-”

“Terrorize me to the point of moving? Then find me years later and evict me? Yep.”

“Wow.”

“Yeah.”

“You okay?” Seokjin asked worriedly, For the shit talking between the two of you, you smile to know he does really care.

“I have to be.”

“Did you at least use a condom?” He asks.

“Oh my god.”

“You really are an idiot. But don’t worry…you know I’ve got your back right? Well, we’ve got your back.”

You could only stare at Seokjin as your mind whirls through the consequences of last night, “It should be fine right?” you ask.

“Sure, cupcake. Keep telling yourself that”

There is a ding from the door and you see your brother Jungkook shuffles in with your other brother Namjoon, and giving Seokjin a look that clearly says “Keep your mouth shut if you want to live” you take a deep breath and head behind the counter to wash your hands, greeting them as you go.

“COFFEE. COFFEE NOW.” Namjoon grunts demandingly, taking a seat and burying her head in her hands,  while Jungkook adds a half-hearted “Please…and a raspberry jelly for me.”

“Rough night?” You ask as you pour the two men coffee and grab Jungkook her donut and slide it in front of them.

Jungkook grins, “Nah, Joon thought he could out drink me. He thought wrong.”

“Shhhhhhhhh!! You’re so loud,” hersed Namjoon, shoving a hand at Jungkook’s face and missing entirely.

You grin and speak extra loud, “Shouldn’t you know by now to let the kids drink and you go home and sleep?”

Namjoon just glares at you, “I have a gun.”

“I aint scared of you.”

The shop bursts into laughter as Namjoon buries her head in her arms on the counter, “Why do you hate me so much?” He whines.

“Mom likes you more, and I’m a petty bitch.”

Jungkook grins, “But she likes me most!”

Both you and Namjoon glare at him, “Shut up!”

Yoongi wakes up to an empty bed and he frowns, crawling out of bed and pulling on her boxers. He wanders around the house looking for you, hoping that you haven't run away and when he can’t find you, her heart sinks. Was he that awful that you would still run away from him even after what you had shared? And worse, what if he had gone too far this time?

He makes her way back to her room and grabs her phone, calling her secretary.

“Yo.” Answered Hoseok.

“Really that’s how you answer the phone? You do know that I am your boss right?”

“Debatable today.”

Yoongi rolls her eyes, “Anyways, I need you to find someone…”

“Well you know Imma need a little more…”

“Y/N. You remember her right?”

“You mean the girl you tortured in school because you didn’t have the balls to tell her how you lurrrrrrrved her.”

“I see you wish to die today.”

“No, not today. So you wish for me to find your wayward love?”

“Yeah.”

“Mandi’s shop.” Hoseok cheerfully replied, as if this should be common knowledge. 

“Oh yeah, great idea bring me some coffee please?”

“No, you idiot, Y/N works there. She is actually her partner” Hosoek irritatingly says matter of factly.

“The hell?! Why do you know this but I don’t?”

“Dude, seriously? You do know they were friends growing up and just because you made her run away by being a complete ass doesn’t mean they stopped being friends.”

“My best friend and my sister have been lying to me.” 

“It’s not lying when you never asked. But Yoongi…you should let her go. It’s been a long time and I know you had feelings but with how you treated her–“

"She was here.” Yoongi grunted, running a hand over her face as he stood in her closet trying to think of what to wear. What says “I come in peace”? Maybe he could get Hoseok to dress up as Spock and talk to Y/N before he does. 

“What? And you’re alive?”

“Yeah. We…um…she was gone this morning,” Yoongi sits down on her bed, running a hand through her hair.

"Oh…” and as realization hits, Hoseok intones sagely,” ...oh my god you’re fucking moron.”

“You know I can fire you.”

“Please bitch, I know all your deepest darkest secrets you ain’t gonna fire me.”

“Just…shit…what should I do?” Yoongi asks, finally letting go of her big bad boss act.

“Dude, I don’t know. You slept with her…maybe you should just…”

“I um…fucked up more than that…” He thinks about how you had felt, how he had felt...how absolutely perfect it had been for just one night, A flicker of fear strums through her heart at the thought that this was not salvageable at all. 

“No. no way. Our friendship is over.” Hoseok cracks from the other side of the phone.

“Just help me okay?” 

There was a long pause before he heard a heavy sigh, “Fine, but no games. She has a good thing going on and you-”

“I swear it's different this time!” Yoongi pleads. 

“Whatever. I should warn you though.”

“Warn me about what?”

“Her brothers.”

“Namjoon and Jungkook? We were old friends, what about them?”

“You were old friends until they found out how you treated her. And bonus points-they are both cops now. Partners even, so you should probably pray for your soul.”

With a groan, Yoongi finally gets up and begins to get dressed putting Hoseok on speakerphone. “I’m so dead.”  

“Yep,” affirms Hoseok, “So does that mean I can have your stuff?” 

Rolling her eyes and thinking he really needs a new assistant, Yoongi growls out“See you at the office.” only to hear Hoseok laughing before he hangs up the phone. 

Yoongi finishes getting dressed, and running a hand over her face as he contemplates this new information. You’d been right under her nose the entire time and everyone had kept it a secret. He guessed he deserved it though, he was a complete and utter ass to you. He also guesses it’s time to make it up to you and hopefully, you would forgive him and let him into your heart, where he belonged. After all, you’d always been in his.

2 months later

Yoongi stands outside her (former) sister’s shop watching as you serve your customers, and realizes sadly that it was the first time in a long time that  he’d really ever seen you smile. He wanted that smile for himself and himself alone, but he wasn’t sure how to get it. When he had remodeled your former apartment, expanding it through the two vacant units on either side of you, you just got mad at him for evicting you, when he was just redoing the apartment and you claimed it was far too large for you by yourself now. But that was the point wasn't it? He was hoping that somehow you would just...come back to him on your own and he wouldn’t really have to put any work in. Yoongi realizes then that he is an absolute dumbass.

After all, nothing he’d done so far had managed to make you smile at him or hell just give him the time of day and he was beyond frustrated. Couldn’t you see how hard he was trying for you?

Mandi pokes her head out of the shop interrupting his train of thought,

“What the hell are you doing here?” she snaps at him.

“Wow, do you greet all your customers like this?”

“Yoongi. Listen. Whatever it this is about now isn’t–”

Realization hits for the second time that morning, “Were you ever going to tell me?”

Mandi pauses, looking him up and down, “There’s nothing to tell if you already know.”

He could almost feel the metaphorical walls slamming down around him as Mandi went on guard. “Mandi!”

“No. Not about ther.”

“I’ve known for almost a month.”

“Then you should go know somewhere else.”  Mandi stepped outside, becoming a most effective blockade. If someone was to ever wage war against his sister, his money, hell, his entire fortune would be on Mandi.

“Listen, you’re my brother and I love you and I know you know what you did wrong, and really it's sweet you want to make amends but …Yoongi, sometimes things…”

“I slept with her.”

“Do you want a trophy?” Mandi snapped, her fists clenched, before she  shook her head, “you have five seconds or I’m opening ther door and I’m calling her brothers out here.”

“We didn’t use protection.”

“Well then I guess today you die you little fucking weasel.”

“I love her.”

That’s when he remembered his sister’s left hook and then the lights went out.

Mandi stomps into the store grabbing you by the arm and dragging you upstairs ignoring your protests, shoving you into the bedroom and giving you a look reserved for her son’s Taehyung and Jimin when they are acting up. “Stay.”

Mandi goes back downstairs and motions Namjoon and Kookie over, “Listen, I know you hate Min Yoongi with like the passion of 7 fiery suns but I need you to hold that rage in and help me get his ass inside.”

Namjoon was already up and out the door at the sound of Min Yoongi’s name, and seconds later was dragging a barely conscious Yoongi in by the collar. While Kookie held open the door, Namjoon made sure Yoongi purposely whacked his head on the door frame and when Mandi winced he gave her a look that clearly said “sorry not sorry” before dropping Yoongi on the shop floor like the sorry sack of shit he thought he was.

“I’m sorry folks,” Mandi announces, “due to my crazy family, the shop will be closing early.”

The patrons all scrambled out of the shop while Jungkook handcuffed Yoongi to a chair and dumped a cup of ice water on him.

Yoongi jerked back, fully awake now and met by 3 pairs of eyes. 3 very angry pairs of eyes. He shook his head and tried to move but found himself handcuffed to the chair and he gives Mandi a look that says “Really?”

“Kook uncuff him. Seriously. And you and Joon leave.”

“No.”

“Did I stutter?”

“Okay, but we get dibs if you decide to kill him.” Jungkook, grumbles as he undoes the handcuffs.

“I’m not going to kill him. Today.”

“Fine.”

Jungkook finishes unlocking the cuffs and Yoongi immediately rubs at his wrists and watches warily as Jungkook and Namjoon leaves the shop, rolling his eyes when Jungkook gives him the international sign for “I’m watching you” while Joon drew his thumb across his neck. They were dramatic as fuck, but then again he might just be dramatically fucked.

Mandi pulls up a chair and sits across from Yoongi and stares at him for several long moments until Yoongi breaks the silence, “Just say it.”

“Why?”

“It just happened like that.”

“Bullshit.”

Yoongi sighed, “I’ve grown up since then. I no longer want to pull her hair.”

“Clearly. And you didn’t just pull her hair, you did a lot worse.”

“Shouldn’t you be on my side?”

“I am fucking Switzerland.”

Yoongi couldn’t help the anger that swelled up and choked him, “Clearly not. You knew where she was all these years and you never said anything. This is why you never let me come to the shop then? You knew I was looking for her, that I wanted-”

“Of course,” interrupted Mandi. 

“Why?”

“Because you are an idiot who doesn’t know how to communicate. Look at what happened--when you did find her, your first action was to take her home. Who fucking does that shit?”

“You’re right, I was. I was cruel and spiteful. Keyword: was.”

“Bullshit. Taking away her home wasn’t because you were being spiteful. You wanted what she had. That’s called envy. She left because she wanted to live, and the only way she could was to leave. You made it like this. I almost lost my friend. So of course I kept it a secret.” Mandi sighed, rubbing her hand over her face. “Look I know. I know what y

our mom and dad did. How they treated us. We were mere points on a checklist of creating a picture perfect family. But you had no right-”

“I was stupid. You think I don’t know? That I don’t regret it? I love her. I always have.”

“Actions-”

“Speak louder than words I know. I’m trying to fix that now!”

Mandi closes her eyes, debating her next few words  "Can I trust you? That’s the-“ ”

“Yes. I swear I'll spend my life…”

“Doing what?” You interrupt, “Sorry, since you seem to be discussing me I couldn’t stay put,” you say to Mandi. “Yoongi I don’t want your money and if you are worried because we didn’t…,” you swallow before continuing with a brave face, “....I’ll be fine. but you really have to stop sending me presents. I don’t want them. Can’t you just stay…”

“Y/N I’m sorry. I was an ass.”

“Still an ass.” Mandi interrupts, “Look, you two clearly need to talk this out so I’m out. Come on Seokjin, let’s go see a movie.”

With that Seokjin and Mandi beat a hasty retreat leaving the two of you alone.

“Your jaw is swelling.” You say after noticing the blossoming bruise that marred his handsome face. Handsome? What the hell were you even thinking?

“Mandi hit me.”

“Why?”

“I told her what happened. She’s very protective of you.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Y/N…that night…I shouldn’t have that.”

“I let you. It wasn’t just you alone.”

“Please, just listen. I’m sorry. For everything. And I’m sorry for not saying that when we met again. It's just…”

“It's just..what?” You questioned, meeting his eyes. 

“I don’t know. When I look at you I want you. You are so good and pure and you deserve the world. I wanted you to myself but I was scared…”

“Scared of?”

“You.”

“Me?” You scoff at the idea of anyone being afraid of you.

“Yeah,” Yoongi stood and walked over to you. “You had everything even though you had nothing. Brothers who worshiped you, a mother who did everything for you…what if I ruined that? What if my mother-”

“How would you ruin that?” You ask, finding patience from who knows where.

“I was messed up…and the older I got the worse…things got worse. You saw, you can’t pretend you didn’t. I took out my suffering on you because nothing good could possibly exist and you were just hiding your real nature. But you never retaliated. You kept reaching out to me over and over again. ”

“But I did retaliate.”

“By locking me out of my house after I took yours? Not really. I mean…I deserve far worse,” chucked Yoongi. He wanted so badly to touch you, to pull you into his arms and just...feel you. 

You stare at Yoongi. This broken version of Yoongi with tears in his eyes. Could you trust him? You wanted to give him a chance.

“Let’s….go on a date.”

Yoongi’s eyes widened, “What?”

“You like me right?”

“Well–I mean–I did when I was—I do”

“Take me on a date, final offer going in one–two..”

“Fine! I’ll take you on a damn date,” Yoongi smiles.

“No fancy shit tho. $100 limit.”

“I’ll take you on the best damn date of your life!”

“Good.”

Yoongi didn’t know why he was being snippy now, but as he left the shop he couldn’t help but do a little cheer when he got into his car. Hoseok rolled his eyes and politely ignored him.

Yoongi stood at the door of your apartment, and for the first time in his life he hesitated, hand poised to ring the doorbell, and then you swung open the door and suddenly the world stopped. You looked amazing. Your hair was curled, makeup accenting your eyes perfectly, wearing black skinny slacks, a hound’s-tooth patterned sweater over a white button down and pink heels. He took in the perfection that was you and thought, “She was made for me.”

And the fear was gone as he smiled at you and he took your hand, interlacing his fingers with yours, “Are you ready to go?”

“Yeah let me grab my purse,” you say as you try to let go of his hand to grab the bag on the chair beside your front door but he wouldn’t let go. You couldn’t help the blush that blossomed over your cheeks as he stepped inside and grabbed the bag for you and waited for you to lock up so you both could leave.

He pulled you along, never letting go, until he reached his car and opened the door. It was only enough time for him to run around and get the car moving before he was locking fingers with you again.

“What’s up with you?” You smirk.

“Just…making up for lost time.”

“What?”

“I just…I should have been doing this for years now.”

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes, “So…are you always this cheesy?”

Yoongi’s eyes went wide, “I mean…I’m not…no…,” Yoongi stuttered and then stopped, “I guess I am cheesy it's just…I can tell you I’m sorry but…”

“Actions speak louder than words?”

“I see you have met my sister,” he joked softly, “And we’re here.”

“A movie? Really?”

“I always had wished to take you…”

Yoongi’s eyes stared into yours, “Yoongi…” you say timidly.

“Yeah?”

“I’m not her anymore you know? I grew up…you grew up…let’s leave it behind us and start fresh yeah?”

“What do you mean?”

You stick your hand out, “Hi, my name is Y/N. It’s nice to meet you.”

Yoongi stared at you you’d suddenly sprouted a third eye on your nose before awkwardly taking your hand and shaking it, “Min Yoongi…the pleasure is all mine.”

You can’t help but laugh at his stunned expression, not knowing he was just in shock from receiving your smile. To him, your smile in that moment could have powered a thousand suns. 

Yoongi was quiet but still took your hand and you entered the theater with a smile on your face, happy that things were getting better, that you could almost believe you had your first love back.

2 hours later.

“Yoongi,  why are you pouting?” You ask as you take his hand.

“Look no matter how I look at it, it's just not fair.”

“What’s not?”

“Mandi. Seokjin. They have spent years with you…years that should have been with me.”

“I thought we were moving forward.”

“But.”

You sighed. “Look. You want to know the truth?”

Yoongi stopped and stared at you, “yes.”

“Okay then.” You face him, “You crushed me in every way possible. You were my world. I followed you everywhere. I trusted you, and you were always there and then you weren’t. The night we got stuck in the cave I gave you my faith—but it also is and was the moment I gave my whole heart to you, willingly, without any doubt. And the next day when we were found…you stomped on it. And you continued to stomp on it. I cried so many tears everyday because I hoped that one day my hero would come back. But he never did. He became a villain.” You couldn’t help the tears that fell down your cheeks, “And even through all that I still…” you sighed. “I can't do this Yoongi. I can't. I’m sorry,  I was wrong to try.” You turned on your heel and ran away, ignoring him yelling after you, you just ran until you couldn’t hear him anymore. 

And then you found the alcohol.

You sat at the outside bar drinking as you thought about the past two months. All the things you had done with Yoongi , and how disgusted you were with yourself for letting your old feelings come back so easily. You knew it wasn’t the right choice, but it was the one you wanted. You had decided to drown yourself in alcohol,  and you were on your third bottle when the object of your conflicting emotions, sat down across from you.

“Y/N.”

“Mmm?”

“What are you doing?”

“Drinking!” Your giggle turns to a frown when you hear the heavy sigh come across from you, “Are you judging me? It’s not nice to judge you know! “

“Why are you drinking Y/N?”

“Because,” you leaned forward, whispering conspiratively, “I’ve been bad.”

“Bad? How so?”

You sigh dreamily, a wistful smile playing upon your lips, “There’s this guy…”

“There always is.”

“Shhh! This is my story!” You shout.

“Sorry.”

“Where was I?” 

“Something about a guy…”

“SHHHHHH! So rude interrupting me! Anyways…I’m supposed to hate him but…” you thump your chest hard as tears prick your eyes, “But…”

“But what?”

“I can't…I remember him before…and the him that I remember…he’s still there…and all the warning alarms are going off and I’m so scared to love him but I…I think…”

“You think?”

You lay your head on the table, mumbling, “Think it’s too late…think I love him. Think it has always been too late for me. Even after all the bullshit…you see…he’s still here” You thump your chest hard and sigh as you feel the tears slide down your cheek to land on the table, “ I love him and I don’t want to…I didn’t mean too…”

“Mean to what?” 

“To love him, but…”

“You do.”

“Yeah” you whisper softly.

“Yoongi…” you can feel the man smile, you don’t know how you know but you do, “why do I have to love you?”

“You love me?” He asks, the hope wrapped in fear in his voice twisting your heart even more than all the past crap that had happened. You wanted to let it go. You wanted to love him. You can only nod your head as your eyes slide close, and you struggle against the darkness when you hear him whisper, “I love you too Y/N…I’m just scared…I’m not good enough…I was such an ass…and I know you said to let it go…but God Y/N…I should have treated you like a princess…because the truth is…”

Those words cause you to sit up, eyes squinting hard as you try to make out his face, “Yoongi?”

“Yeah?”

You lean forward and his face comes into focus, a smile spreads on your face and you lean forward to press your lips to his, softly at first, and then he responds, a hand sliding up your arm to cup your neck as you express to him what you can’t say in words. This was so much better than petty arguments and revenge pranks.  

You pull away, breathing heavy as you rest your forehead against his, “Yoongi,” you whimper, keeping your eyes firmly on the buttons of his shirt, scared to look up, scared to see the fear in his eyes. Does he not know?  “Can I…can I be yours?“ You ask in a voice so quiet it is almost lost in the noise of the world that surrounds you. 

"Can you forgive me?” The pain in his voice was sharp. “I forgive you.” You whisper into his mouth as you make promises with your lips.

He pulls away for a moment, and you lock eyes finally. “Then believe me when I say, I was always yours, and you were always mine.” 

“I was?”

The amount of disbelief in your voice causes Yoongi to tear up as he pulls you into his arms, “Kitten?”

“Yeah,” you say as you rest your head into the crook of his neck, breathing in his scent.

This time it was his turn to ask, “Am I yours?”

“You always were Yoongi. I was just waiting for you to remember where home was.”

Yoongi places the softest of kisses on each of your eyelids, and then he kisses away your tears and finally his mouth was on yours, and the kiss was full of yearning. “Y/N.”

“Yes?” You ask, sad he had pulled away. 

“Don’t leave me again…I love you too.”

“Okay.”

[themurphyzone]

PatB: Snowball Ep Talk

You know, I really do love the episode Snowball (my personal favorite AKOM episode) but I don’t think I’ve ever talked about it here much, and if I did it’s probably really only because of the flashback sequence. 

Okay so all looks good so far. Chain letter scheme and superstition, a standard introduction to Brain’s latest plot of world domination. All looks good. Plus I just like this shot of Pinky. Don’t mind me, just starting off light here with a smushed Pinky. 

I just like Pinky’s pose here. He’s so cute. 

You will bow before Troz.

“I met a Snowball today! Right here in the lab!” -Pinky

You know, I just find the implications of this line hysterical. This means that Snowball was in the lab that day, waiting for the moment to strike, and he definitely pushed his stolen chain letter through the mail slot. 

And then he lets Pinky see him, and no it’s not just a passing glance either cause Pinky specifically describes a tattoo with an A and a circle and points to his leg. Which means Snowball deliberately lifted the fur on his leg and showed his tattoo to Pinky. 

Like, wow. 

“It means, Pinky, that evil lurks among us. By the name of Snowball! SNOWBALLLLLLLL!” -Brain 

Talk about a bad breakup. *Alexa play Bad Blood*

Personally I think one of the interesting visual cues is that Snowball purposely plants himself into the mice’s space. There’s a lot of that in this episode. He knows how to rile up Brain and hit him where it hurts, namely through Pinky. 

Brain values his personal space, and he values a sense of control. When Snowball invades that space, Brain loses control, and his anger can lead him to make some very ill-informed decisions. Which is exactly what Snowball aims for. 

“You think Pinky is an asset?” 

“Anything I can take from you is an asset.”

Ah yes, Snowball’s mission statement. Crush everything Brain has into dust. 

The flashback sequence. Dear God this flashback sequence. They were both so cute! 

You know, it’s really sad that a younger Brain acted more like Pinky. Making silly faces and trying to get someone to laugh are such Pinky things to do. I know canon is loose but if you consider this flashback taking place shortly after Brain was captured from the wild, then young Brain didn’t gain a grasp on what happened to him until after the gene splicer.  

Ok but Brain was literally right there when the gene splicer exploded. Imagine having your cranium size dramatically increase, you’re injured, you’ve suddenly gained sentience, and as if all that wasn’t enough, you see the gene splicer explode with your only friend inside. 

Oh, and said friend’s mind was probably damaged in the explosion and now he hates your guts. And though you’re angry with him for his betrayal, some part of you will never stop caring about him. 

Once again, Snowball needs to learn to keep his hands to himself. 

This conversation here establishes Snowball as the perfect third character. He appears only in a handful of eps, but he’s fun to watch and love to hate. Snowball challenges the mice’s relationship. Snowball sees the weak points; the insults, the reliance on each other, and twists them to his advantage. And Pinky even admits he’s hurt by Brain’s insults occasionally, though he still loves being around him. 

“Pinky, the Brain doesn’t care about you. He’s just using you.” 

“No, he’s not.”

It’s really interesting to me how Pinky denies Snowball’s statement, yet his ears go down to show that he’s affected by the idea of being used. Pinky and the Brain may be night and day, but one thing they do have in common is their tendency to deny certain things. Brain with emotions and affection and Pinky with concepts he’d rather not admit the possibility of. 

Coming back to this later. 

Non plot related but Brain is teeny tiny and I love how he just trusts Pinky to catch him

Side note: I apologize if any of these screenshots look weird. It’s an AKOM ep. 

WHY ARE YOU TWO SO BAD AT SNEAKING AROUND. 

I just find it hilarious how they clearly run around where Snowball can see and hear them. Like they just shout Snowball’s name in the middle of the room. You’re terrible at being sneaky little mice. Please. 

Those dang boomers and their old timey 90s computers. Technology is ruining boomers. Can’t even hold a conversation anymore cause they keep looking at their screens. 

No touchy! 

Well, it’s awful nice of Snowball to engage in nepotism and offer Brain a position in his administration...and then tempt Pinky with an amusement park when he refuses. 

You really gotta appreciate the complexity of Snowball’s plans. Stealing the chain letter fails->plant seeds of doubt in Pinky’s mind, even if this doesn’t work right off the bat, the idea will still be there-> take over a corporation->impersonate Bill Gates->When the mice show up, offer to co-rule the world on expectations that Brain will refuse->make co-ruler offer to Pinky->wait for Brain to open his big mouth and drive Pinky away. 

All to take everything Brain has. His dignity, Pinky, his meager resources. Like holy Snowball, Batman.  

And then Snowball reveals the amusement park he had specifically built for Pinky. 

And here we have the most heartbreaking line of the ep. If I had the ability video edit I would’ve put the entire line on audio because Brain’s tone is very important here. It’s about 12:38 to 12:57 in the ep if you want to see for yourself. 

“Oh, go ahead, Pinky. I don’t need you. What did you think, I just have you around so I can steal your brilliant ideas and claim them as my own? That I’m just using you, Pinky? Oh yes, I’m using you for your brilliance!” 

First of all, very poor word choice, especially to someone who has trouble understanding sarcasm. I just want to dissect this statement here. 

The Literal Meaning: You’re an idiot to think you were ever more than an assistant. 

This is what Pinky hears. 

But if you listen to Brain’s tone rather than just reading the line, he sounds genuinely hurt that Pinky would ever be tempted by something as frivolous as an amusement park. It’s Pinky, so he just sees ‘ooh fun rides, cotton candy, and carnival games’! 

But Brain is perfectly aware that this is Snowball’s well-crafted method of taking away the only thing he truly has, and he knows it’s working. And he’s hurt. 

The Actual Meaning: Snowball’s trying to separate us and you’re falling for it, Pinky. You may be an idiot, but many of my plans never would’ve come to fruition without you. You’re much more than an assistant. You’re my friend and my world.  

Unfortunately, all Pinky hears is that Brain was only using him. That Brain values him for manual labor and an extra hand only, rather than a treasured companion. The fact that Brain often falls short of making Pinky feel appreciated just adds to this. 

And now that he no longer has Pinky, Brain’s spirit is crushed. Brain is persistent, but without Pinky, he has no reason to be. 

As far as he knows, his only two friends have turned their backs on him and couldn’t care less if he has nowhere else to go. 

Poor thing. He needs hugs. 

“I didn’t think it was possible. Humanity has actually gotten dumber.” -Brain

OK I think this one shot establishes what the world would be like under Snowball. His name is everywhere, and he tells the population to do stupid things just to bask in his own superiority. 

However, I can’t see Brain putting his name on every building so frivolously like this if he ruled the world. Sure, he’d name a bunch of things after himself and Pinky, but it would be more meaningful to them. 

Brain wants humanity to advance, not regress. 

Poor Pinky. Despite all this new extravagance and luxury, he’s also lonely. The room and bed are large, but it lacks personality. He’s sleeping with an ACME Labs snow globe, and other than a reference to Citizen Kane, it also shows that he’s not happy with this. 

The worst thing in the world for these mice is separation from each other. 

Suicide by cat. 

Poor little guy can’t make it on his own. Luckily, he snaps out of it. 

“My world. I must save MY world!” 

Said while looking at a picture of Pinky. Real subtle there Brain. 

“Look, you fool. You have no brilliant ideas. I’m only using you to get at him! So just stay quiet!” -Snowball

“You’re...using me?” -Pinky

He was just a bargaining chip. Never a friend. 

“What do you want?” 

“My friend. And MY world!”

AWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW

He makes martial arts noises like a dork. I love him. 

I love how their characters are reflected in the mecha designs (also I had no idea Snowball was Iron Man!) 

Snowball’s is overall the more efficient design. It’s also much more combat ready and violent. In comparison, Brain’s suit is simply operated with a bunch of levers. It’s alright for peaceful situations like getting around faster or simply blending with a human population, but in a straight up fight the levers take too much time to operate. 

Snowball is more efficient than Brain, and while he’s got the ego, he lacks the insecurities that hold Brain back. His confidence makes him such an effective foe. And more importantly, Snowball doesn’t value Pinky’s companionship. He’s a tool and nothing more. Compare that to Brain. While Brain struggles at showing it, he ultimately wants Pinky’s input and values his jumbo-sized heart. 

Somewhat off topic, but I feel like the reboot missed this aspect of Brain and made him too overly edgy and violent (reboot!Brain would probably prefer Snowball’s mecha design over his counterpart’s). The only time Brain should become violent, if not for comedy, is when he’s protecting Pinky. His plans should have a level of restraint to them, and Pinky is the moral compass.  

I just like this shit-eating grin right here (I mean, he did eat shit in Welcome to the Jungle so...lol)

This is such an insanely clever move for Pinky. I feel like Brain would be like ‘oh my god Pinky!’ and then ‘wow, that’s actually brilliant what the heck is this tingling feeling’. 

ACME LABS IS IN NEW YORK CITY??????

I know this is a case of Where the Hell is Springfield but gdi aren’t they supposed to be in southern California. 

Ok fine I realize the ending to this ep is a reference to North by Northwest cause they somehow got to Mt. Rushmore but still 

Weird tangent but North by Northwest’s ending bothers me (not gonna fault this ep as it’s just a parody)? I’m sorry the girl is barely hanging onto Mt. Rushmore, the dude pulls her up, and then they have sex in a car. The sudden transition always seemed weird to me. 

I am ending this analysis post with a weird shot of Snowball cause i can and it’s his episode. 

[padfootagain]

Girl Crush (X)

Chapter 10: An Impatient Forsythia

 Here we go again, new chapter, hooray! Cute, cute, very cute again, no angst, just cuteness!!

I might take three days instead of two to post the next chapter this time, because I've been writing ahead in the story for the past few days, so the next chapter isn't ready. It will be ready before the end of the week though, considering how inspired I am by this mess…

I hope you like this chapter! Tell me what you think about it, please!

Word Count: 3960

Five minutes left.

300 seconds.

Harry wanted you by his side. It was an important moment, and if there was one person he wanted with him now, it was you.

He hadn't slept at all, he hadn't eaten in the past 24 hours, he felt sick and yet overexcited.

Putting some music out there for the world to hear was nerve-wrecking, and he loved it. He turned towards Jeffrey behind him, inflating his cheeks with air before releasing it in a long sigh.

Only a few minutes left before his first single was out there. Less than a week before he would perform it live for the first time.

He chased the latter thought away, though. He already had enough to worry about.

One minute left.

He reached for your hand without looking. He knew you were next to him, he could feel you being there, somehow. Then, it was nothing new. He seemed to always know precisely where you were whenever the two of you were in the same room, no matter if he could see you or not.

And indeed, his fingers found yours naturally, without any difficulty, holding on your hand as if it were his lifeline. Your gentle squeeze was reassuring, solid, a silent way to show him that you were for him. He felt so grateful for it, for your presence by his side, for always being here for him… he reckoned he could never thank you enough for that.

And suddenly the song appeared on the screen of Harry's computer. It was up. For the world to see. His first single as a solo artist was out.

A piano ballad… what the hell had he done?

"It's done, mate," Mitch patted Harry's shoulder.

"Now that it's out, you can't go back," Sarah added with a teasing smile, to which he replied by sticking out his tongue at her.

Hugs were exchanged across the room, and congratulations, although for now the anxiety was still high. No one knew what people would think about it for now.

In his round for hugs, Harry saved you for last, a smile forming on his lips as he finally looked at you.

"It's done," you nodded before wrapping your arms around him, bringing him close for a tight hug. "Congratulations!"

"Don't congratulate me yet. It's out, doesn't mean it's good."

You rolled your eyes.

"It is good though. Excellent even."

He closed his eyes and threw his head back a little, a cheeky smile piercing through his nervous expression.

"Hmm… yes, the narcissist in me is listening, keep going."

You laughed, nudging him for being an idiot, and dropped a kiss to his cheek that he hadn't expected, and he turned away to hide the way he blushed at the gesture. Because he was surprised, that was all… right?

"It's an amazing song, and people will love it. Maybe not as much as I do but then I'm biased, as I am your best friend."

He chuckled.

"See? You are blinded by your loyalty towards me. That's the only reason why you like my music."

You nodded, chuckling, while he rested a hand on his heart, faking to be hurt.

"Ouch… and here suffers my narcissistic side…"

"Good, otherwise your head is gonna get even bigger than it already is, and that would mean that you would probably not be able to walk through doors anymore."

"Alright, alright, that's enough, that's enough!" he fought back, struggling and failing to refrain a smile.

You laughed at him, before taking his face in your hands, hold tender and gentle as you brushed your thumbs across his cheekbones, making his smile settle on his lips for good and his heart beat faster.

"More seriously though, it's an amazing song. And I'm very proud of you, so I reckon that you can embrace the narcissist in you for this one. I'll squeeze your head to help you walk through the door."

Ten minutes.

600 seconds.

It had been ten minutes since Harry had finished his first performance of his song. Was he happy with it? No, he could pinpoint every single thing he had done wrong, every note he had missed, every time his voice hadn't been as strong as it should have been.

He heaved a deep sigh, sitting down in his dressing room before taking off his jacket and unbuttoning his shirt.

Well, it was done now, no need to beat himself up over it. That's what he tried to persuade himself into doing after every performance, and failed to accomplish every single time.

He took his phone, taking a few minutes to relax before changing into casual clothes again and leaving the studio. He was exhausted, and the stress accumulated for these past few days suddenly leaving his system seemed to only amplify the feeling.

His stress level wouldn't be down for long though, only a few days to catch his breath and he was due to perform on another show. And then another. And then another.

The thought led him to plan all the things he had to work on for the next performance, and he could feel his anxiety going right up again.

He didn't have enough strength to deal with that.

He had several notifications from friends and family who had watched the show, but if he smiled at the sight, it was only because he was looking for your name through the list of texts.

And indeed, there you were.

Seven unread messages.

He was smiling already.

 HARRYYYYYYYYYYYYYY!!!!!

 He couldn't refrain a chuckle.

 THAT WAS AMAZING!!!!!!!!!!

 !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

 Also, you've got to stop being this hilarious

and charming all the time, it gets annoying

after a while :(

 He rolled his eyes, but exploded with laughter at the next text.

 How's that ego of yours after that comment?

Oh dear… what have I done?!

 More seriously, it was amazing. I'm very proud

of my best friend right now. Congratulations.

And as you wanted to see my reaction,

here comes.

 He scrolled down to reveal the picture of yourself that you had sent, while he chuckled and shook his head with amusement. He had joked about the fact that he wouldn't be able to see it on your face if things were going ill, and you had replied that you would send him a pic of yourself at the end of the performance. He didn't think you would really do it, the two of you were simply being silly, and yet, there you were.

In those purple pyjamas with tiny cats all over them that he loved because they were so soft when he held you then, your eyes red and tears still shining on your cheeks but a smile on your lips and what he could only call pride softening your features. You had a thumb up, but you were also clearly holding a Kleenex.

He was still mad at himself, but he felt better already.

He typed his answer with a smile, despite his disappointment.

                                                                        You are way too kind. I completely

                                                                        fucked up.

 It only took a few seconds for your answer to pop up on his screen.

 Don't say that! It was alright.

                                                                  The end was a pure catastrophe and

                                                                  the rest was barely any better.

 It was your first performance!

You'll get it right next time. It

was still okay.

                                                                        See! You're going from amazing to

                                                                       okay.

 It was amazing, I still loved it.

Next time will be perfect. But it

was still great. I loved it.

                                                                       You are supposed to call me out

                                                                       when I do things wrong… as a

                                                                        friend.

 That applies if you go apeshit and

do something morally wrong. Also

for relationships. Not for SNL

performances. Then I'm the fairy who

delivers tons of encouragements.

                                                                        Does that mean you have a magic 

                                                                        wand or something? Butterfly 

                                                                        wings?

 Everyone says it's butterflies wings

but that is for the godmothers. The

encouragements fairies are closer to bees.

                                                                     Now I'm imagining your face on the

                                                                    body of a bee and that is the most 

                                                                    terrifying thing I have ever thought of,

                                                                    thanks for the trauma.

 You're welcome ;)

 He laughed again, before he would redirect the conersation towards your day. He wished you were there with him. Why did the U.S have to be so damn vast?

He didn't notice how time was flying, and for the next twenty minutes, he was simply texting with you back and forth, talking about your customers and googling what the hell was a weigela.

And for as long as he talked to you, he didn't think about the notes he had missed that night, nor the upcoming shows, nor anything but you. 

One week left.

Seven days.

Seven days and his first solo album would be released. The thought made his head spin…

As he walked towards your flat, the thought tortured him all over again.

Dear God, he couldn't imagine that time had flown so fast, and yet it had.

He held the plastic bag in his hand a little tighter.

You were going to listen to it all for the first time. And he wouldn't have missed it for anything.

Was he dead anxious? Yes. Was he properly terrified at the idea that you wouldn't like his songs? Obviously. But he was also overexcited at the idea of you liking his songs. At least some of them. He wondered if you would guess which songs were about you, or at least had been started because of you, although the story had been amplified and torn around certain pieces to take it further from reality and closer to how he felt. He wondered if you would read into this, or if you would assume he was simply talking about an ex of his.

Anyways, the excitement to see your reaction was stronger than his nervousness, so he would stay while you listened to it and study every single one of your expressions.

He hoped for you to love all of his tunes, of course, but he also knew that it was hard to make an album with no songs worth of a skip. As long as you didn't hate one, he reckoned that it was okay. You had loved his first single, so all was fine.

He also couldn't wait to show you your name written on the album as a songwriter. He reckoned your reaction would be priceless.

He climbed up the stairs to your flat faster than he ever had, took a deep breath before entering, not bothering to knock, knowing that your door was open for him. You were expecting him after all.

"Y/N!" he called from across the hall, but you were rushing towards him in the blink of an eye.

You were a little dishevelled, and seemed overexcited to say the least. You were wearing an oversized t-shirt with a pair of shorts. Harry could feel his heart speed up at the sight, but he chose to ignore his reaction. He was simply happy to see you and excited at the idea of making you listen to his music, that was all. Nothing more…

You spotted his bag and squealed, clapping your hands and reaching to grab it, but Harry pulled away.

"Hey! Nope! Not for now!"

"Harry! I've been waiting for this for months."

"Well, I'm sure you can wait for a little longer then, huh?"

"No," you pouted, and gosh, were you adorable.

Annoyingly so. You were annoyingly adorable and he was annoyed now… that was why he had this feeling in his stomach. He was annoyed by you… right?

"Can I at least take off my jacket?" he laughed, and you humoured him as much.

"I've already ordered food, it arrived five minutes ago."

He smiled at that, a tender gesture that he hid by turning to hang his jacket next to yours. He took a deeper breath and recognized the scent of Indian food indeed.

You made your way to your couch, and he sat by your side. You were still eyeing the bag, but Harry was taking way too much pleasure torturing you, a cheeky smile badly hidden on his lips.

"So… do you want to watch TV?"

"Harry, I swear to God, if you don't show me this album right now, I will slam this chicken right into your face!"

"Alright, alright," he laughed, reaching inside his bag. "But… I have something else for you first."

"Really?" you asked with a frown.

"Yeah… I… we have our merch ready, and I thought… as you like being comfy… I thought you'd like this one."

He pulled out of his bag a black hoodie, and handed it to you.

You traced the letters embroidered in the soft fabric…

Treat people with kindness

Yes, you remembered that he had mentioned that phrase before, that he wanted to turn it into his mantra.

Dear God, your eyes were watering already. But then, it was Harry's fault, why did he have to be such a kind soul all the time?

"It's lovely!" you grinned and put the hoodie on.

It was soft and comfortable and warm, and you knew you would spend many evenings wearing it whenever you missed Harry too much. You wiggled happily, making your friend's smile broaden.

"Thank you. I love it!"

"Yeah? You like it?"

"I love it. It' very comfy indeed. Thanks, Harry!"

He extended his cheek out of habit, expecting the familiar peck that always followed whenever he offered you something. Every time, without fail. Always his left cheek. Always lingering against his skin for a mere second. But you didn't move this time.

Instead, you tutted, shaking your head.

"You still need to give me my album," you chimmed, making him laugh, and he had to yield this time.

"Ready?" he asked one last time, but your grin was so bright, he didn't need a spoken answer. Your excitement and joy were painted all over your features.

"Alright."

He finally took the album out of his bag, and handed it to you, this time earning a kiss to his cheek.

You took the vinyl in your hand, careful, as if it were a precious piece of porcelain. Your heart was beating so fast…

"The cover is so beautiful," you commented, letting your fingers wander across the item.

"Thanks. It's me," he answered, making you laugh.

"Really? I thought it was Mitch!"

You both doubled with laughter at that, and Harry shook his head.

"Come on, we both know he's not that good looking."

"It's just your back for now…"

"Still, can't you tell?"

You nudged him playfully.

You opened it, took your time to admire the vinyl and what it held. Until you finally got up to place the vinyl on your turntable.

You waited until the first tune would start to walk back to the couch and took your seat by Harry's side again.

It took you 56 seconds. Harry hadn't realized he had been counting, and yet he knew how much time had passed between the moment you sat down and when you reached to lock your arm in his and rested your head against his shoulder.

He moved to drop a kiss to your hair, but thought better of it.

You didn't speak. You didn't say anything through the whole song, and at first he thought that it was because you didn't like it. He nervously twisted the fabric of his trousers between his fingers, waiting for you to react, to make a clever remark, even to mock him, anything…

It's only during the last chorus that he heard you sniffing and realized you were crying.

What was he supposed to do?

Meet Me in the Hallway was replaced by Sign of the Times, and Harry moved to stand and go skip the song, as you had heard it before, but you held him back, shaking your head.

"No, please, don't. I love it. Let it play."

Your eyes were reddened and a little puffy, you were sniffing again and your cheeks were wet with tears. Your eyes looked bigger now, under the yellowish light of your lamp. So, he nodded, sat back fully in the couch. He couldn't have denied you anything with you looking at him like this, wide-eyed and so fragile, and the thought was a little scary, if he were to be honest. He reached for the box of tissues on his right and handed it to you. You thanked him with a smile, but didn't move from your position against his shoulder.

"Did you like it? The first song?"

You checked the title on the cover, but nodded.

"I loved it. I really did. Are you aiming for making me cry through all 10 songs?"

Harry chuckled, relaxing against you.

"Only for some of them."

"How generous…"

You snuggled closer to him, and he wrapped his hand around yours, letting Sign of the Times play. He noticed that you were mouthing the words and humming the melody, and he felt a wave of pride and joy washing over him.

He had written songs that you liked, that you had learnt the lyrics of, that you hummed along to. He reckoned it couldn't mean that they were bad.

Carolina followed, and you looked up at him with raised eyebrows at the change of pace compared to the previous songs.

"Huh… nice…"

"Nice?"

You listened more to the song, but nodded, smiling as the chorus hit in.

"Oh that's nice," you nodded, starting to move with the music without breaking your hold on him.

You reached for your food on the table, and Harry didn't need to check which box to choose. He knew the one before him was his. He knew you had gotten him his favourite. He knew exactly what to expect when he opened the lid. Just like he knew what you had ordered for yourself.

Two Ghosts and Sweet Creature followed, calmer and soothing and making your heart ache and making you close your eyes to listen to them. And Harry smiled with the memory of how some of lyrics were born thanks to you.

You were jumping on the sofa and laughing and dancing like two fools for Only Angel and Kiwi, and Harry knew from your reaction that he had been right. Kiwi would be amazing to perform on stage.

Ever Since New York had you lying on the sofa with your legs resting on Harry's laps while he played with your jeans and traced meaningless forms on your shins. You remained like this to scream to Woman.

And then it was already the last song, and you were back against Harry. You recognized the tune that you were humming that day, when you had eaten lunch with him, thousands of miles apart, through your computers. You looked at him with a stunned expression painted all over your features… You had never thought that… he would… actually make something of it…

Even my phone misses your calls, by the way

Your verse was there too… later in the song…

Maybe one day you'll call me and tell me that you're sorry too

But he didn't say anything. Even if he could read a thousand questions in your eyes, he remained silent. Instead, he merely handed you the vinyl again, and pointed at the credits for the last song.

Y/N Y/L/N

Your name was written right there, printed on the paper, as one of the writers for the song.

You looked up at him again, on the verge of tears, and you had no words, really, to describe how you felt when the last notes of From the Dining Table echoed through your home.

"You… you really did use that?" you breathed after a long silence.

He shrugged, a little shy all of a sudden.

"It was a good tune. Good lines too."

"You… you wrote my name on your album."

"Well, you did come up with the tune, and a few lines of the lyrics. It's normal. I mean, it wouldn't have been legal for me to not credit you for it."

You chuckled, brushing your tears away.

"I wouldn't have been mad, wouldn't have sued you or anything, if you hadn't added my name."

"I'm not a thief," he shook his head. "Besides, your name looks great on there, doesn't it?"

"Yeah… yeah, I reckon that it does. But I've barely done anything…"

"You have. You've done so much already."

You both knew that Harry wasn't talking about the song anymore, but you didn't comment on it. Instead, you went to lean against him again.

You heaved a sigh, holding your hoodie and Harry closer.

"So? What do you think?" he asked after a couple of minutes spent in silence.

"I think it's really… really good."

"Yeah?"

"Absolutely."

"Are you being the supportive fairy again, or…?"

"No, I really love it. It's amazing."

"Thank you."

"Anyway, even if I didn't like it, too late to change it, right?"

He burst out in laughter.

"Yeah, I'm afraid so. What's your least favourite song?"

"Least favourite? Why would I tell you that? It's a happy moment, I'm not going to tell you my least favourite."

"So, you have a least favourite…"

You rolled your eyes, pinching his arm to shush him, and he playfully struggled against your gesture.

"What's your favourite then?"

You considered the question for a moment, but then, the answer was pretty obvious.

"I mean… I've helped making one so… I feel like it has to be my favourite, you know? Besides, it brings back good memories. You remember that day?"

"I wrote a song after what happened that night, of course I do," Harry laughed, resting his head on the back of the couch, and closing his eyes. "Your pesto was a disaster. I could smell it burn from across the globe."

"Oh, shut up!" you chuckled, making him laugh too, the gesture making him tremble under you.

"It's my favourite too," Harry let out in a breath.

"Really?"

"Yeah. I like it a lot. I'm happy with it."

It was true that he was particularly proud of what From the Dining Table sounded like. But maybe, just maybe, it was his favourite because he could see you there, your frame painted all over his computer screen, your hair a mess, your kitchen even messier, humming happily despite how much of a disaster your recipe was turning out to be. But that was just a maybe.

"I'm glad you're the first person to listen to it," he went on.

"Am I?"

He nodded, humming softly.

"First person outside the studio to hear the whole thing. I'm happy you like it."

"I love it," you corrected him with a grin. "Thank you, for trusting me with it."

"That's more than alright."

You should have asked him when he was leaving for London. His first show the day after the release of his album would happen there, and you reckoned that his flight was booked in less than two days. You should have told him about how you wanted him to meet Gareth properly.

But you didn't. The moment felt too nice. Harry was so relaxed by your side, peaceful with his eyes closed like this, dishevelled and with the ghost of a smile gracing his lips. And you were too happy to just be holding him for a little longer.

So you didn't talk about any of the things that you should have said.

"Harry?"

"Hmmm?"

"Would you like to play monopoly with me?"

His smile widened and widened until it turned into a full toothy grin that could have lightened up the entire room.

He opened one eye to look at you.

"Challenge accepted."

********************************************

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@madamrogers @cronias13 @stylesfics-xx​ @mellamolayla​

[pinkykitten]

promise me - part 3

2845: EXILE

synopsis: It’s the year 2845. A year where Earth is in shambles and space is the new frontier. You are sent along with other cadets to a distress call about some type of unknown creature. You are new as an engineer on the ship Shiganshina and you have to work for your boss and leader of your group Levi Ackerman. But remember, in space no one can hear you scream.

pairing: levi ackerman x female! reader words: 3,068 genre:  violence, gore, romance, fluff, space au, series, future au

a/n: im actually rlly proud of this chapter. now its when the door starts opening up and new secrets are revealed and even more questions arise. ty all who have given support and love to my writing and this series. i work rlly hard on this so it makes so happy to see u guys love this. tysm. 

The feeling of being useless was horrible. There laid Gunther’s lifeless body-leaning against the blood soaked wall. The hallway was once sparking with violence and fighting it felt so hollow to you and so quiet. 

“Oh my God.” You gasped, covering your mouth with your hand. “I can’t believe this happened.”

The tips of Gunter’s fingers were turning blue and his hands were as cold as ice as you held onto it tightly. 

“Y/N,” Levi coughed out raspy. “Y/N.”

You wiped your tears away and slid towards Levi. You looked at his face then saw his wound. There was a orange size burn-from the saliva of the alien-that was red and a rash. It was splayed across his ankle and was oozing.

“You’re going to be alright. How bad does it hurt?”

“Not that bad,” he winced. You could tell he was holding it in. He was trying to be strong for the mission. 

You rummaged through the first aid kit. In there was a bottle of pain pills, Band-Aids, and a cream to help with bacteria and burns. “Take some of these,” you popped the pills in his mouth. “This should help with the ache.” You splattered some cream onto your hand and evenly spread it on the burn. Levi barely moved a muscle. His strength was truly evident. You wrapped his ankle with some gauze and your gaze met his. Your heart became still. His features were handsome to his thick, black, long eyelashes to his soft looking lips. 

You shook your head, tearing the day dreams away from your mind. “You think you can stand?”

“I think so.” Levi gripped the wall as he pushed himself up. He stood up and took one step, leading him slipping to the ground. 

You caught him in your arms and guided his arm atop your shoulders. “I got you,” you smiled small. “Let’s try to get to shelter and take a breather.”

You didn’t know what was next. What the plan was. All you worried about was now but the thought of how you were going to survive replayed. You saw many outcomes of you dying and everything seemed impossible. To everyone you portrayed this know it all, knowing every step you took but in reality you were a lost soul. 

Turning a corner was a double bed room for the workers. “Sit here.” Levi laid back in the bottom bunk bed. Pain evident, slightly, on his features. In quick motions you gathered items around the room to place in front of the door, barricading it in case any monsters tried to get through. “I think we’re good.” Sweat dripped down your neck. 

You sat opposite from Levi on the other bottom bunk. You noticed Levi sweating as well, his face red. Touching his forehead, you realized he was burning up. “Not good,” you told yourself more than him. Grabbing a glass of water you led him to drink water, hoping that would help. “I’m in fear the venom is getting in through the skin to your blood.” You tapped your lip in thought.

“Great,” Levi scoffed. 

“What do you mean?”

Levi sat up. “I need you to promise me something Y/N. If I don’t make it, finish the mission and save those that need help.”

You sat in front of him and grabbed his cold hands. “You’re not dying. I’m not letting you.” The thought made your lips tremble as your e/c eyes became glassy.

“Just promise me,” Levi’s calloused hands rose to your cheeks, wiping your scared tears that escaped your captivity of your eyes. “Please Y/N. I need you to be okay?”

“...Okay,” you breathed out. 

“I know you’re scared but I don’t think you know how capable you are. You are made of greatness Y/N. You can do this, with or without me.” Levi laid back and tried to get some sleep. 

You walked to the window showing space. A vast area that sometimes is made up of unknown. Scared was an understatement. You didn’t know what that ‘thing’ was, where it had come from and why was it here? There were so many missing pieces to the puzzle. 

You couldn’t help but want to discover more to this mystery and you couldn’t just sit there and do nothing while your friend laid there dying. If this monster was on Marley and it was going to show its face more often you needed tools. You couldn’t bare being defenseless against that thing. “I’m coming back Levi,” you saluted to him. “I promise, just be patient.”

You checked the map of the ship and noticed the weapons room was far north away. It was on the opposite of the ship. “Are you kidding me?” 

As you raced to your destination you saw all the damage that was on Marley. So many wires were pulled and sparks exploded, scaring you. The thought came up of what if you hadn’t had taken this job? Would you still be in your garage being a mechanic? There was some sneaky stuff happening and some things didn’t feel right? Then you thought of Annie and the fear she must be feeling. What if she was dead? You had to know, you had to see if! 

Finally you had made it to the warehouse but the gate was locked. “Hmmm? Maybe there’s an issue with the power?” You checked the computer system nearby and saw all the power was made to keep the vents open. It was either the vents or this gate. “I’m going to close the vents.” You locked in the correct kep numbers. The gate opened wide and you stealthily walked in to not grab attention. 

You took a step and a loud bang was heard across the room. Your pulse quickened and your mouth became dry. You tore up boxes and compartments and they were empty except one at the very end. There was no cover there so if the alien was with you it would see you. ‘I have to be quick,’ you thought.

You rolled to that area and looked to find a motion detector, a flamethrower and items to make a molotov. Now you felt more confident. “Finally,” you got set on making the molotov. But you didn’t feel the presence behind of the alien growing tall and hovering behind you. It roared loud, baring its teeth. 

You turned back and screamed, dropping the weapons. You were going to crawl away when a shot ringed your ears. You looked up to see a wounded Levi shooting at the alien. 

“Levi?!? What are you doing?” 

“Just run! I got it!” Levi repeatedly shot at the monster, calling it to him. “Yeah, come this way.”

You quickly grabbed the weapons and ran to the vents to jump in it. “Cuss!” The latch was locked in order to get in the vents. You then remembered you closed the vents which means the alien was in here with you the whole time. “Levi the vents are closed! I gotta go back to the systems and open it up! You keep him distracted!”

“Isn’t that what I’m doing?!?” Levi was up against this huge creature. 

Running with all your might back to the computers you typed in that the gate would shut and the vents would open. Levi was still stuck in the warehouse. “Levi get out of there!” You had your hand out. 

Levi ran backwards shooting vigorously at the monster. “Close it! Close it!”

You punched in the numbers and Levi ran past the gate, it was a hair away from closing on him. It instead closed on the alien. The alien was caught in between. His hands were trying to bust the gate open. 

“Climb! Climb!” You ushered Levi to get up the ladder to get to the vent. Levi climbed up and offered his hand to you. You took it climbing and the alien grabbed onto your legs, pulling you. You tried and you tried with all your might. Veins protruding and teeth clenching. With a roar you and Levi pulled away from the alien and climbed in the vents. They were tiny and cramped. 

You both walked on your hands and knees to get through. 

“If we take two rights and 4 lefts then we should be at the room we were at.” You recalled from the map. 

“What the cuss was that?”

You shrugged, “I needed to get items.”

“Yeah, you could of died.”

“You just told me I could do this without you and now you don’t want me to. Which is it Levi? Because I’m getting very confused!”

Levi shook his head, “Yes, I remember what I said but you idiot but you don’t have any weapons. What would you have done if I wasn’t there?”

“Fought the best I could. I know I can do this. You don’t have to worry so much.”

Levi scoffed and led the way.

You sighed, “you’re right. I should of had some type of weapon, that was dumb. But I got a ton. Now we can defiantly use these against him.”

“What did you get?”

You showed him all that you had found. “Pretty neat huh. We get to use these bad boys on that son of a cuss.”

Levi couldn’t help but smile at how brave you were and ruffled your head, “just, please be careful next time. Okay?”

Finally, you and Levi made it to the end of the vent. Jumping out and now creating a new plan to exterminate the alien. 

The fuzziness of the voice on the intercom blared loudly. Who was still alive? It took a second for someone to speak. “Is that Annie?” Your ears were open. 

“Levi and Y/N, it’s Reiner... if you’re still alive please, meet up with me at the control base. I, I need to show you two something. ASAP!” Then it shut off like it never was turned on in the first place. 

“What if- what if something is wrong? Maybe he found Annie?”

“Or killed that thing,” Levi suggested. 

Making to the control base wasn’t easy. You had to be on the look out for the alien. Any sound you made came with gut wrenching fear. At one point you were even certain that your heart pounding would be too loud and it would hear you. Every moment spent alive was a miracle. 

There was a large wall of glass separating you both from Reiner. Unknowing you were present, he was facing the glass, sitting on a chair, focusing on the computers. He seemed not stressed at all. You would think because his friend and fellow ship mate was taken or dead that he would be more on his toes but he seemed not worried about a thing. Maybe he didn’t really like to show emotion. It was true that being emotional at the moment there was no time. Your eyes traveled up to see his back was facing a huge vent. 

“He’s really stupid isn’t he?” Levi knocked on the glass to get Reiner’s attention. 

Reiner ushered you both over. 

“Any news?” Reiner and you said in unison. 

“You first,” Reiner said. 

“Well,” you threw all your weapons on the counter top near the computers set up. “We went to the weapon base and contained all these! We didn’t realize the moment we stepped on Marley that we were gonna need such heavy equipment.”

“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about,” Reiner stood up and faced away from the two of you, as if he was disappointed in himself. “I know you all have many questions.”

“That’s an understatement,” Levi sat, annoyed. “Why did you bring us here Reiner? It seems like you want to get something off your chest.”

Reiner turned around, seeming so stoic. “I want to tell you two how this thing got on here.”

It was the question you were thinking about the whole time you were here.“Yeah, what did you mean that it started with Ymir? Who’s Ymir?”

“Ymir was one of our ship mates. See when we first were dispatched on this mission we were told that we were going to different planets to find life. We went to what we named planet 13. Me, Annie, my friend Bertholdt and Ymir went and it seemed fine at first but then we found some...eggs.”

“Eggs?” Levi questioned. 

“Eggs. I was taking some samples when I heard a scream and Ymir had touch one of the eggs. It was on her face and we took her to the medical bay to get her back to her health. But we didn’t know that she would never get better and as I was running tests on her the thing came out of her chest. It was, so confusing. We didn’t know what to do. It escaped and that’s where we’re at now.”

You were shocked. “Now I have more questions than answers.”

“Cuss,” Levi muttered under his breath, not knowing what other move to make. 

“We need to learn more about this creature, do you happen to know Reiner if this is the only one or are there more on here?”

“The one-” Reiner was starting but then the computers started beeping. 

“What’s that?” Levi pointed to the map on the screen. “What are those ripples and dots?”

Reiner sprinted to the chair and checked the monitor, “cuss. It’s another shower, it’s gonna be longer and much stronger than the last one.”

“What do we do?” Your balance is thrown off when one or a few meteorites hits Marley. The ship starts beeping, alarming guests. “What happened?”

“It’s made a huge hole.”

“Where?” Levi looked at the model on the computer screen. 

Reiner pointed to the head of ship. “We need to fix it quick or else it will ruin the whole ship.”

“I got this.” Levi grabbed a few of the weapons and was about to exit but fell due to his injuries. 

“Levi!” You ran to his aid and lifted his trousers. It was starting to look infected and you could tell it was affecting him because his lips were turning white and he had more bags under his eyes. “You’re not well.”

“I’m fine,” Levi tried getting up but fell in your arms. 

“You’re not going anywhere. You will stay here and wait for me. I’ll patch up the hole.” You took the weapons away from Levi. 

“No Y/N!”

“Are you sure Y/N? It could be dangerous.” Reiner said. 

You rolled your eyes, “Just watch the cussed thing.” You grabbed a walkie-talkie and threw one at Reiner. “Keep me updated please.”

“The same to you.”

You ran to the head of the ship, using your motion detector to make sure the alien wasn’t near you. It was odd how it wasn’t busy like it usually was. Something was wrong. 

‘Is this thing broken?’ You asked yourself as you smacked the machine. “Ok, Reiner, where is the hole?”

“You’re near it. You have to make 3 lefts and it’s by the electric pad made for that area.”

“Alright,” you whispered and all of a sudden a loud bang was heard nearby. You quickly built a molotov and held your flamethrower in front of your chest, pointing it forward. You hated this playing game. If it was going to hunt you down, you were ready to face it. But nonetheless you moved on stealthily. The wooshing of the air leaving and space pulling everything out notified you that the hole was there. “I see the hole!”

Reiner continued talking while your motion detector started to beep rapidly. Your face turned into horror and something pulled you towards them. You screamed loud and could hear Reiner and Levi on the other end. 

“Y/N? Y/N!”

You looked behind and saw it was the alien dragging you towards the hole. You kicked it in the eye and went to get your flamethrower but you realized it had fallen when you were dragged and it was on the floor far away. 

“Come on!” You were in survival mode as you kept kicking with all your might. You got a good blow as you kicked it in the throat. You crawled to the flamethrower and as the alien was about to pounce on you, you produced flames, almost killing it. 

“Yeah, get back!”

It was now trapped. You held the trigger of the flamethrower as long as you could, backing it up more and more to the hole. You were going to kick it out. 

The space was pulling and you had to hold onto a medal bar attached the wall. Because of the strength the bar was slipping and almost detached. The alien tried to hold onto that as well but instead held onto your leg. You pointed the flamethrower at it and it ended up losing fuel. The alien smiled wide and crawled up your leg, now face to face with you. 

“No!” 

The alien tried to stab you with its claws but you punched its hands away, getting bruised. It brought it’s tail up and was about to stab your stomach, when you pulled, with all your strength, the metal bar that was attached to the wall, that you were holding onto. Nothing was holding you back from being sucked out into space. You were willing to risk your life to kill this thing. You lifted the bar high in the air and struck it repeatedly on his face. You both were falling, almost reaching the blackness and stars. When you pulled from your pocket a made molotov and threw it at it. It shrieked and exploded as it got sucked out. 

You were almost getting sucked out when you held onto a corner of the wall and grabbed a piece of metal and shucked it to the hole, covering it. You fell to the floor and went to screw that piece of metal to that hole. You smiled, proud of yourself. You killed the alien and patched up the hole. 

“I did it guys! I’m alright!”

There was no answer from them, just only static. 

Your lips quivered as you didn’t think of nobody else except Levi. 

As you walked upon the control base, it looked like a disaster. All the computers were thrown off and everything was moved, misplaced, and just thrashed every where. What’s worse there was no signs of Reiner or Levi anywhere.

a/n: no levi!!! hehehe im so bad lol. i feel so bad w levi in the manga as of recently with everything that has happened to him he just has no emotions like even less now and he just doesn’t care. its like everything has been ripped away from him so poor levi, ive rlly given up on every other character as well lol in the manga except levi. i also am not a fan i know shoot me lol of annie and armin idk not rlly into it. 

[geckolady]

Skulduggery Pleasant: Raising Cain - Chapter 1

Chapter 1 - Meeting the gang

Stephanie is eight years old

Stephanie ran into her Uncle Gordon’s arms for a hug.

“Oof,” he groaned. “You’re getting big Steph.”

“I’m just so awesome,” she said, backing up. “Need more space for it all.”

He laughed as he led her into the house, waving Melissa off. Uncle Gordon looked after Stephanie every weekend and most days after school, and had done since he broke his arm a year ago and found he enjoyed the routine. It was a joke in their family now that Gordon was a second father, especially since her real father, Desmond, passed away when she was little. They got on extremely well, so much so that Melissa couldn’t deny her only child time with the man even though she was unsure of his books and some of his friends. She loved Gordon as a brother, so after a few weeks of begging, she allowed it, even letting her have a week with Gordon while she went on a holiday to Spain with her friends – and Stephanie was happy for her Mum. She deserved time away to be happy. She worked extremely hard. Gordon told her so.

“What are we doing this weekend?” She asked.

“Oh, I have a few ideas. But remember I have to finish my book soon so I’ll have to work too,” he reminded her. That was okay, she had brought her homework and a book with her. For an eight year old, she was bright and unusually quick to answer back – though a lot of her humour went unappreciated by her family and teachers. It was probably also why she didn’t keep friends long, but with Gordon, she could embrace her full self and trade witty remarks without fear of being told off. He even let her swearonce.

They started the morning by taking a drive up to the supermarket and ran around the shop getting everything they wanted. That was followed by ice cream and they returned to Gordon’s house to eat lunch and put away the food. Gordon liked to get work done in the afternoons so they had evenings to have fun again. She was sent to her room to do homework, read or play. She wasn’t allowed to leave the room.

“This house is so big,” he’d say when she asked. “You’ll get lost, I’ll never find you and your mum will have my head.”

So, she never left. It was an amazing room to be fair, and she even had a computer and all the new games and toys she could ever want, and Gordon’s friends would bring little things for her walls and all imaginable surfaces. The newest thing, which she found as soon as she ran in, was sitting on her bed waiting for her. A tiny, tiny charm for her bracelet, made of some smooth stone, in the shape of a heart. She knew who this was from.

There were six of them, she was certain. She kept their things separated so she knew who got her what. She didn’t know their names though, so she gave them some herself.

This person always got her jewellery and pretty things that were every colour but pink. She called him Bear. It was rare to get something from him, but she always felt he really thought about what he got her.

Another person usually got her clothes, shoes, bags, little purses or little toys. Everything always had animals on it and she adored it all. He was called Panda because of her favourite toy, the only gift she had taken home from Gordon’s.

Crow always got her silly things like sticks, rubber bugs, random objects or books that she was confused by. He seemed a little strange, but it was always funny to her when she found his gifts.

Snakie got her pink everything, usually clothes, but they were always cool, like pink camo jackets, pink combat boots, a pink nerf gun with glittery bullets that exploded in gold when she shot them. Though they were pink, and she didn’t like to be a girly girl, she couldn’t help but embrace them with a big grin. She especially liked shooting Gordon with glitter bullets. Sometimes he’d put the nerf gun up high on a shelf so she couldn’t get to it, but she knew she could get it down by standing on the chest of drawers below.

Weasel got her food most of the time, though he did occasionally send her tickets to an event of some type which she went to with Gordon.

Lastly was Wolf, whose gifts she would always take to Gordon to explain and show off. They were always exotic and fun, sometimes an instrument, or a toy, or jewellery. It seemed random, but it was always different and intrigued her. Wolf had inspired her to learn dance, to her mother’s joy, and to find her talent in singing. She hated singing in front of people because they would immediately want her to sing. Still, she enjoyed it, and liked to sing songs with her Mum.

Stephanie did her homework quickly with the stone heart charm in her little fist, and when it was stuffed back into its folder, she attached the charm to her bracelet, putting it on. It was a perfect size and very pretty. Gordon said he’d get her a new bracelet one day, when she was older and bigger. They’d put the charms on that one so she’d get to keep wearing the gifts.

She played with the doll’s house for a while and tried to compete in a chess match against herself. She turned the board for every go but she found herself being biased towards one colour when they started winning. Quickly, she gave up on the others and set them up for death just so she could win. Looking around the crowded room of stuff, she wished she had someone to play with. So, she played her favourite game – imagining she was on an adventure with her friends, with Crow, Bear, Panda, Wolf, Weasel and Snake.

She wasn’t sure why, but soon into the game, she heard a noise from outside the room. It had been a sharp BANG. She went quiet and listened carefully.

Nothing.

If it had been another day, she would have kept playing her game. But Stephanie and her imaginary friends had been playing ‘saviours’, where Stephanie would valiantly save all her friends from certain death, and now she was certain that Gordon needed saving.

She opened the door very, very quietly.

“Gordon?” She whispered. Nothing. “Gordon?” She shouted. Nothing. “GOOORRRDOOOON!” She screamed. Nothing.

It was serious then.

Stephanie bit her lip and left the room, something she had never done in the afternoons before. She knew where the office was, which was where Gordon was, a floor above her. She snuck up the stairs and down the long hallway. She could see from a distance that his door was slightly open and light from the spring sun was filtering through into the hallway. There were murmurs of voices, but she wasn’t sure if they were Gordon’s.

She snuck closer, stepping around the noisy floorboards until she was beside the door. She held her breath and investigated the crack.

She could see Gordon’s desk and there were three chairs in front of it, each of them filled although she couldn’t see their faces. One of them was sitting in front of Gordon, blocking her uncle’s view of her.

“How was your time in India?” Gordon asked suddenly, she could tell he was changing the topic. “Find anything exciting? Any fun stories?”

One of the men snorted. “Nothing at all. I went for a month and I didn’t find a single mercenary matching their description. I just sort of wandered around.”

“You never were the best at finding people though,” another man with a velvety voice said. She’d heard that voice before but had never seen him. “You probably had drinks with them and didn’t realise.”

Gordon and the third man laughed. The first man looked at the second with a scowl and Stephanie got a look at his profile before he turned back to Gordon. He had dark blonde hair and a scruffy beard that wasn’t very long. “How is your book coming along? Am I going to be a hero?”

Suddenly, Stephanie realised Gordon’s new book was about herfriends. Because these men had to be her friends. She started to jig excitedly in place. She really, really wanted to meet them. Who would they be? What did they get her? What other stories did they have? What were their real names?

“It’s going well, thank you,” Gordon said. “And you hardly think I’m going to tell you that, do you?”

One of them barked a laugh. “You’d tell China.”

“Well, that's neither here nor there,” Gordon claimed. “Did you get that information from her by the way? You never said.”

“Yes, I cracked that case a long while ago,” the velvety voice said.

“We spoke about it this morning.”

“Really, the difference between a few hours and a few years is nothing.”

They all laughed at the man and Stephanie giggled accidently. They went quiet and she held her breath. She was going to be caught. Oh no, where could she hide? Think, think…

Gordon opened his study door and Stephanie shut her eyes, so she’d be more hidden. She heard his steps going up and down the hall, looking for her. “Stephanie, where are you? You’re not in trouble.”

Stephanie opened her eyes. Wasn’t she in trouble? She wasn’t sure she believed him, but he couldn’t go back on it now he said it.

Gordon was further up the hall where it split into different halls going to other places. She carefully crawled out from behind the counter-thing she’d squeezed into a moment before and tiptoed into the study.

There, three men looked at her. She grinned and ran behind the desk and sat in Gordon’s big leather chair.

“Good day,” she giggled.

They grinned back. One had his face covered with glasses, scarf and hat, another was the dark blonde man with stubble, and the last was a man with a lot of scars. Stephanie was a little shocked at his appearance but next to the man covering his face she could only assume he was getting off lightly and gave him a bigger smile. Her mum always said to be nice to people no matter what they looked like, and she didn’t want to seem rude.

“You’re my friends,” she whispered. “The ones who keep bringing me things.”

The one with scars laughed deeply. “Yes, I suppose we are.”

“You’re little Stephanie,” the dark blonde one grinned.

“Of course,” she rolled her eyes. She turned to the covered man. “Why are you hidden?”

“I’m sorry?” He questioned.

“Why are you hiding?”

“I’m not. I’m right here.”

“Your face,” she specified, giving him a look of attitude her mother wouldn’t like.

“Well, I have a hideous face,” he said.

“Oh. You’re the one who brings weird things, aren’t you? Why do you do that?” She questioned.

He tilted his head. “I do not. I bring things that will aid your development.”

She frowned at him. “Like plastic bugs?”

He hesitated. “Yes.”

She shook her head. “Who are you?” She asked the other two.

“My name is Ghastly,” the scared one said. “I’m a tailor.”

“I’m Dexter. I’m awesome.”

“So am I,” she grinned. “Do you bring all the different things from everywhere?”

“I suppose so. Do you like them?” He asked.

“I love them! I have everything in my room, you should come see!”

Gordon came into the office then. “Stephanie!”

He looked mad.

“Oh, sorry Uncle Gordon,” she apologised, trying to look sorry. “I forgot you were going to get lost.”

The others tried to smother their laughs.

“I didn’t know where you were. Why did you leave your room?” He asked in a kinder tone.

She shrugged. “You walked right past me, so I came and met my friends. I was going to show Mr Dexter my room. I haven’t even told them my nicknames for them!”

“What’s my nickname?” Wolf – Dexter – asked quickly.

“Wolf,” she grinned excitedly.

Dexter grinned but Gordon shook his head. “Come on, back to your room.”

“What?” She asked, really upset. “But I only just got to meet them! I want to play a game. I want to know where all those things came from, I want Panda to teach me how he makes stuff! I don’t know what being a tailor is yet!”

“No,” Gordon said, picking her up. She was about to start squirming but didn’t want to have a tantrum in front of her friends. That was just embarrassing. “I told you to stay put.”

“I heard a bang. I thought you were alone and hurt. I wanted to help.”

“You don’t have to worry about me,” he said. “Now say goodbye.”

She looked at her three friends with big, tear-filled eyes. When would she see them again? “I want a hug.”

She was let down and she hugged Crow first because he was nearest before hugging Panda in a tight grip, and finally Wolf. “Be good,” he told her, “and we can talk another day.”

She squeezed him tighter. “I’m not leaving He laughed and squeezed her tighter too and started a squeezing competition. “I’ll squish you!” She shouted. “No Gordon! I have to squeeze his butt off!”

Wolf roared in laughter and Gordon finally pried her away. “I love you,” she said, and she was forced from the room trying to see them again.

Gordon shut the door softly and took her back to her room. He sat on her bed and she looked at him from the middle of the room for a moment before sitting beside him.

“Are you upset?” She whispered. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

He sighed. “It’s alright.” He looked at her with a smile, but she could see he was upset. “I was just worried when I couldn’t find you.”

Stephanie gave him a hug. “I love you.”

“I love you too Steph.”

[theschizoidblog]

Anger Outbursts

Blog 3: 11/07/2020

I want to start this particular blog post by saying that what I am about to describe today, might not be very common in schizoids. Maybe it’s not schizoid at all. Maybe it’s just me. Schizoids have what I’ve seen described as “flat affect” – as in that they show very little emotions. However, during my lifetime, I’ve had a few anger outbursts. These might be PTSD related in some cases. PTSD *is* common in schizoids. These attacks have been happening at an increasing rate in my lifetime. Hardly at all before the age of 30, but then more and more after that age until I decided it was one of the reasons to seek therapy.

The outbursts are usually incredibly brief. Such an outburst only lasts a few minutes, sometimes just a matter of seconds, but the spike of adrenaline often affects me for a few days, and afterwards, I’m a sobbing mess of guilt and other negative emotions for often hours in a row, and I’m exhausted as hell.

I will describe the triggers and my own reaction and what the experience is like. Sometimes I call it an anger outburst, but it could also be a form of anxiety attack or adrenaline attack or panic attack. I honestly don’t know the correct, professional distinction between all of them.

When it happens, my fight or flight response is triggered, and I usually choose “fight”. I’m not sure if I never choose flight, or if choosing flight just doesn’t trigger it and thus I’m hardly aware I even made a choice afterwards.

I really don’t know what the correct label is for my own “attacks”, but if after reading this blog, you feel like you know, then don’t hesitate to reply, send me an ask or reach out to me on facebook.

An overview of outbursts

Very often, my outbursts are work-related.

The very first time I had it was when I was about 16 years old. I had forgotten my homework, something which did happen a lot. I was a good student, but forgetful. I always forgot a book, sometimes I did forget to do homework too, but in this case, I’d done my homework but left the book at home. When the teacher asked, I was ashamed to say I’d forgotten it at home, but I said it. Another girl in my class, someone who I always found disrespectful towards me (and a bitch), was like “she probably didn’t do it!” – even though it was only the first thing she said to me that day, I decided it would also be the last thing she said to me that day. She said it in such a taunting manner that I barked back at her: “I DID DO IT!”

Now, for me to bark was rare. I was usually quiet, friendly and never looking for a fight. I dodge confrontation at all times. I was sooner a mediator or observer in the classroom than a fighter. But in this case, the fight or flight response got triggered, my adrenaline rose up, and I decided to stand up for the truth, and thus I shouted back in her face. She was visibly startled (when you never respond that way and know how to carry volume and fierceness in your tone, it lands) and she backed off immediately with an apology.

The teacher (who really had nothing against me, I was a good student) didn’t mention it either and just let me be for that hour while I cried where I sat.

I was a mess for the rest of the day. The first hour I sat in class crying and shaking, completely confused by what I’d done. Later that day I tried to keep up the pretense I was fine, but I was exhausted.

I don’t think it happened for another ten years afterwards, until as a 26-year-old, something very similar happened at work. I don’t know what the precise cause was, but a colleague of mine was a bit of a sneaky bitch, always gossiping behind everyone’s back. Calling her a bully might be an overstatement, but she was not a great person. She had two faces and I did not trust her. She said something that struck a nerve, fight or flight response was triggered, I chose fight and spoke back to her, then I ran out of the room, slamming the door. Then the next hour or so I spent on the toilet, crying. Very adult. Very professional. In what I call the “discharge”, after the adrenaline had left my body in the rage of anger, there was so much guilt and confusion I could not face anyone.

Skip another few years. A different situation. Once again at work. I do a helpdesk job, but it’s high-demand. We are expected to be flexible, answer phones, mails, social media, in various languages, about various subjects, always creating tickets and being productive. In the morning as I drove to my work place, I saw a small van of the internet company outside. My first thought was: “they better not fuck up our internet connection today, we’re behind on tickets.” An hour later, the internet goes down. I can’t do my job. There’s pressure on us to perform, and I get so angry at the thought that there was no problem but that those two idiots of the internet company outside managed to ruin our internet… While our leads ask us to switch to hotspots, my VPN connection decides not to work along, and I get so frustrated by this ridiculous problem that it triggers another outburst and I have to hide in the toilet in order to sob out my frustration.

Another outburst, one from over a year ago. I’m at work. It’s been busy as hell. I’ve been working overtime. We’re asked to fill in a self-evaluation. It’s a bit of work, but I’m glad to do it, I find it very important to do. So I do it after my time. So it’s 5 o clock and while others are going home, I’m still behind my desk, filling in the evaluation so I can take my time for it. After thirty minutes I’m done and I click “next” – but the site gives an error as though nothing has been saved. In no time at all, the fight or flight response is triggered, I take my keyboard in my hands and smash it down onto my table. I break its tiny fragile legs. A few meters away from me two colleagues were talking and they look at me like “wtf?” – I mutter an apology and sit there shaking, trying not to cry. (In the end, my evaluation got saved correctly, which makes it even worse, the site just gave a weird error after saving. I did not have to do it again.)

Something else which triggered a really bad episode was when I was at home, not at work for a change, and I was in a fandom discord. I can’t remember the exact cause, but mods were angry with me for a specific discussion in which I had not held back. I wanted to defend myself, but they denied me the opportunity to do so and gave me a strict warning. Without a means to stand up for myself or express my own emotions in a safe way, I exploded in anger, then in tears, just behind my computer, shaking, being a mess, eventually feeling exhausted. (This was a PTSD trigger for me, which I recognize as related to PTSD I got at the age of 21.)

This week I had another explosion.

I’ve been working on a new project with a few others of my team. Every week we get a few days to work on the project, each a few days. Last week I did two days, and this week I would be doing three days of work on the project. There’s a ton of work to tackle, so I planned it out and had planned out all three days. The third day, I start working in the morning (at home), with a clear vision in my mind of what I’m going to do that day so that everything is done before my colleague needs to continue the day after.

I’m at it for about ten minutes when I hear from the colleague that she gets to do the project that day, instead of me. She gets to do it for the rest of the week. My brain just short-circuits for a moment. I’m angry as hell.

In this case, it could be compared to a balloon that got inflated to a very big size, but did not pop immediately. Instead there’s a tiny hole of air and it’s deflating. In the minutes while I’m super-angry, I finish some of the stuff I must finish, mails that I had to send out and had already planned the day before. I use the adrenaline boost as a wave to do as much as I can in as short a time as I can. I take the energy from that moment and use it to be productive for the few minutes that I know it lasts.

I simultaneously express my anger about changing the shift on such short notice with the one responsible for this change. (via chat) I don’t blame her personally, but I voice that it affects me a great deal when she makes such changes without me knowing a day in advance. (While I express this anger I remain professional at the same time.) But slowly, the adrenaline wave is ending. A few minutes later, it’s over, my project work is done, and I’m a sobbing mess, unable to do my job of answering the phone while helping customers with their questions.

Luckily, I have a few great colleagues and team leads who know I’m in therapy for this reason, who also know I’m a schizoid, who know that I’m dealing with PTSD and who also know that I’m currently in EMDR treatment, which might cause things to trigger me more easily. So I just have to type to one: “having an attack”, and a few minutes later she’s calling me, and by then the anger is over and it’s a sobbing attack, and I explain through my sniffles and tears that I exploded, over what I exploded, and she’s immediately like: “Okay, what do you need to do right now in order to get over it?”

I state that it’s very exhausting, and that sleeping it off might be good. She agrees. It’s about 9 o clock, I go back to bed, and at 1 PM I am back at work, answering the phone, still exhausted, but at least able to answer the phone in a composed way again. I quit at 5 PM and by 6 PM I’m in bed again, sleeping. My productivity level in the afternoon was low, but at least I contributed in some way.

The Thoughts That Come With The Exhaustion

I feel most of these outbursts in my body for two days. The first day it’s like I just ran a marathon in a period of 3 minutes or so. The second day it’s like I ran a marathon the day before. :-P It’s just very tiring to have these outbursts. It drains my energy and my emotions.

At first there is anger, but almost at the same time there’s also guilt. There’s sadness and defeat. I remember the thought process of my last outburst very well, since it was only a few days ago. It was something along these lines:

“Schizoids aren’t ambitious people. You know this, but you also know that if you want to get your own place, not just rent it, you need to earn more. So you have to prove yourself. You have to work harder. You have to be more sociable. And you’ve been trying just that. This project is a way for you to prove you can tackle important work and maybe that might earn you a promotion in the future. That’s part of why you’ve been doing so much overtime for this project. And it’s a nice project. You like the project. But now that you’re having this attack, you’re only proving that you’re weak. You’re proving that you’re unstable. You’re proving that you need to remain at the lowest possible rank in this company because you can’t be given responsibility with this attitude. Not that you want to be a lead, but how can you be in charge of this project or any other in any way with these outbursts? What if you’d been doing a presentation to the CEO of the company about the project and you had such an outburst? What if he saw that? Not only would he want you gone, it would reflect badly on your coworkers and the team leads that are giving you this opportunity. They’re being patient with you, but it can’t last. At some point, they’ll have had it with you and they’ll see that they can only use you at the lowest possible responsibility, in a job where you’re easily replaced if you have an outburst. They’re good people, but capitalism doesn’t work on charity. In the end it’s about profit and you need to make sure you’re keeping up with the rest. You can still keep up with the rest, but you can’t prove to be more, so you’ll be stuck at the low-level income jobs for the rest of your life. Forget the ambition. It’s not real ambition. You have no ambition. This is why schizoids aren’t ambitious: because it’s defeating to always end up back at the low-level entrance jobs. Most schizoids don’t have jobs for longer than a few years, you’ve proven that time and time again before you landed this job. None of your jobs lasted very long. That’s why we forsake ambition and learn to just do our damn, miserable jobs. We can’t deal with the stress of climbing up the ranks. We can’t deal with the competition because we hate confrontation. So we just take a step back if someone louder and more aggressive says they want the job. Over and over again. No matter our talents. No matter if we have the capacity to out-think and out-work them on our best days. We can’t deal with the confrontation. We have no healthy way to deal with confrontation because we’re damaged in some way. We’re terrified of bad environments. We don’t want our work place to turn bad, so we always take a step back. Give up everything for the good of the group. To keep the peace. Just like how you did as a child. It’s the only thing you know how to do. To try and keep the peace. At the expense of your own happiness. So you bury it, deeper and deeper. What is ambition? You don’t know ambition. What do you want? You don’t know what you want. Or you think you don’t know, because wanting something might mean fighting for it, and fights are bad. Fights make it not worth it. So you remain miserable. Maybe someone else said they wanted to do the job. Maybe that’s why you were taken off the task. You made a mistake the day before. You admitted to making a mistake in the project. That’s why you’re not allowed to do the project today. They’re mad at you. They’re just tolerating you to do it because they need more people to do that work. Make sure you will not get replaced. You like this project. You can’t argue about it. Just be glad you’re back on the project next week. It’s a very busy time right now and you’re letting them down, so make sure that you’re up and running again as soon as you can. You can not afford to be a schizoid without a job. Certainly not during a pandemic. You can deal with people better than most. You just don’t like it when they mess up your schedule without your consent. But that’s going to happen more often in the future so how on earth are you going to deal with it? You have no idea how to deal with it. You’re going to short-circuit again. You don’t know how to prevent it. Maybe EMDR will help. Maybe it will only make it worse. The therapist said it would be worse for a while. But is this linked to your first EMDR session of a few weeks ago? Nothing you discussed in your last EMDR session resembled this situation, so why would EMDR be triggering this now? The therapist said you would get more triggers, but is this one? You shouldn’t blame EMDR. It’s probably not EMDR, it’s just an anger outburst like you’ve had before. Just because you didn’t want it to happen, doesn’t mean it stays away. You knew this could happen. Some colleagues are probably so disappointed in you right now. Some might be wondering where you are, they need you on the phone, it’s busy. You need to rest, you need to be able to answer phones again in the afternoon, you can’t do that in your current state. Think of something else, don’t allow yourself to ruminate about it. It’s not in your control. Not yet at least. Maybe you’ll learn to control it. You’re never going to control it this way. How old are you? You’re going to be dead before you control it. You’ve got depression too. Why do you even care about getting better? Just give up already. You’ve got depression so you shouldn’t be fighting for anything. Certainly not for promotion or approval. You don’t have the energy for that or the capacity to take any hits, so why do you bother? Maybe you should have gone to your safe space, like you were taught for the EMDR sessions? But this was not EMDR related, was it? Besides, it happened too fast. You needed to send those mails, when would you have had time to go to your safe space? You can’t send mails AND go to your safe space at the same time. You needed to ride the wave of adrenaline to get the last bit of work squeezed out of you. You needed to get the word out you were having an attack, so they knew why you weren’t on the phone. You did well enough, you finished sending the mails, transferring the project in a decent way, and you sent them the message you were having an attack. That’s something. That’s all you could have done, you did well. Does the safe space help now? Who are you kidding, you’re too exhausted to go to your safe space right now. You can hardly focus on one emotion or thought, that’s how tired you are, you can’t go to your safe space. That requires energy and focus. You have none right now. What’s it going to help, you need to rest now. Think of something else. Think of something fictional. Try to sleep.”

Harmful Thought Patterns

There are a lot of harmful thought patterns I need to break. Any psychologist could probably find several out of the thought process above. According to my own psychologist, I need to stop telling myself “I’m weak” – it’s a lie about myself that I believe deep in my core. But between knowing what is a wrong thought and between not believing a wrong thought lies a world of difference. I still believe that thought. It’s one of the things we’ll be working on, though I have no freaking clue how we’re going to break that thought since it’s one of my core beliefs.

There is some paranoia too. I don’t have the Paranoid Personality Disorder, but I can have paranoid thoughts during those moments of great sadness and guilt. But usually those thoughts are only there in moments of stress and I can recognize them afterwards, and most of the times at the exact moment as I’m having them as a paranoid thought. For example, thinking they’re looking for reasons to fire me, thinking they’re punishing me for making a mistake, I know that’s not the case. It’s a fear I have that they would do those things, but I know that that is not what they did, that’s not reality. That’s just a bad thought process that pops up after an attack. It adds to the guilt and sadness. It’s not something that I think during a regular day, since I usually don’t feed any emotions.

Not every thought that comes after an attack is a lie. I do believe there’s a lot of truth in my thoughts as well. There is self-analysis in there that is not completely wrong. I get wiser as I age and with the schizoid label also come new ways to look upon myself and my thoughts and history. I am starting to understand better why I am not ambitious. I am starting to understand why I avoid confrontation.

And I think the attack, in part, is triggered by confrontation. When you go back to the part where I describe all the past triggers I remember, it were always moments of confrontation in one way or another. I just have no idea how to deal with confrontation, hence me having a full meltdown whenever I force myself to stand up for myself.

I’m so not used to standing up for myself, that the exact moment I say to myself: “No, you NEED to say what you think about this NOW, you can not just pretend nothing happened” is when I have the outburst with all the unpleasant adrenaline and tears that follow. My communication towards the other party seems to be correct though. I don’t think anything was wrong with the chat I sent my colleague, or when I tell a bitch to back off - I think it’s assertive. But having a breakdown every time you’re assertive, isn’t normal. That’s the issue. 

Had I decided not to confront my colleagues about how unpleasant it was to me that they changed my schedule, I might not have had the outburst, I think. (I honestly don’t know.) There’s the tiniest moment before the outburst, the fight or flight moment, where I need to make the choice. And it is a choice that I can make. I have agency in that moment. I can choose what my choice is, but I can not really choose the effect that comes with either option.

If I choose to flee, I’ll be relatively fine. Maybe a little shaken. If I do that, it probably adds another argument to the “you are weak”-narrative in my mind.

If I fight, there’s a possibility I end up at war with myself. In my thought process, I might be entering a war with everyone else. That’s usually not the case. People usually back off. (At least for a while.) But in my thought process, if I choose “fight”, it’s like I’m going to war. In that way, I do think that there’s a big link between my outbursts and some form of PTSD. I don’t see it clearly just yet, but I think I’m getting closer to a breakthrough of what it is.

A Link to Autism

I did not get diagnosed with autism. (Though we did the test!) However, the outbursts often seem autistic in some ways to me. Maybe people with autism experience it in a very similar way. Maybe they don’t and I’m just projecting.

(Just to clarify – before “autism” existed, people with autism all got the “schizoid” label. There are a lot of resemblances between the two. People with autism mostly distinguish themselves from a schizoid like me by not having the same social skills. Schizoids seem to have the skills more naturally while for people with autism it’s usually a skill they have to work on, like maths or languages is to neurotypicals. Or maybe it would be a better comparison to say it’s like they have dyscalculia while the rest of the world can do maths without much of a problem, but apply that comparison to how we as humans learn social situations. Another difference: Schizoids don’t want company, people with autism often do, but don’t know how to go about it. They both come across as asocial a lot of the time, hence some of the overlap between the two labels.)

But if you shorten what happened, if you say: “Her schedule changed last minute, and she exploded” or “A classmate insulted her, and she exploded” – that would seem autistic to some. A change of plans can really ruin the day of a person with autism since they prefer structure. People with autism can also really explode at bullies because they don’t know how to deal with them.

So if you shorten my trigger and my “explosion”, I think an outsider would say: “Oh that has to be autism. She can’t deal with change. She can’t deal with social situations.” My type of explosion is something that people with autism go through as well sometimes.

Sometimes it does make me doubt if it’s not autism for a part, but I suppose I should follow the opinion of my psychologist, and I do have to state that I don’t have a lot of difficulty reading social situations. I’m very sensitive to some situations even, feeling when some people can’t stand each other in a room without even talking to anyone. I think that’s something people with autism often can’t read from the room. I have been called a very good observer by some friends and colleagues in certain situations.

To End It

I’m not sure what else is left to say. Writing this has exhausted me as well, in a way. Going through emotions is hard for a schizoid. We bury them, deep. We don’t do it consciously, we just do it. Bringing it back to write about it, did bring a few of the emotions back. I did shed a few tears while writing this. (I’m not saying this for pity, by the way, just as an FYI to my state of mind while reliving this.)

An anger outburst brings the negative emotions to the surface. Anger (at the cause of the issue), guilt (about getting angry), sadness (about our own state of being), fear (of losing friends/our jobs/respect) are all negative emotions. You don’t want to have these on any day. Most days we don’t have any emotions. But on a day with an anger outburst we experience all of those emotions. In a matter of minutes. In an hour. And then we’re exhausted.

Not all schizoids experience this, and I’m not sure whether to envy those people or to pity them. Envy, because these emotions are all negative. Who needs that negativity in their life? But also pity, because it seems like they’re the only emotions I’m given in this life. Isn’t it sad that some have none at all?

I try to approach it positively and say “at least you have these emotions. If you have the negative ones, maybe the positive ones are hidden inside you as well. You just need to find the correct trigger to bring them out.”

Some schizoids say they don’t want to experience any emotions. I don’t think I’m one of them. I’d rather have a day without emotions than with only negative emotions, but I’d like to go back to positive emotions one day. I don’t want to fake being happy at a party, as I usually do. 

And if I can’t have emotions, then all that’s left is achievement in life. To make value in my life, to accrue wealth or status or experience. I don’t mind dying poor as long as I’m not miserable. But imagine dying miserable and weak and poor, that sucks. I don’t want that.

Take care, and remember, if you have anything to share, your own wisdom or your own experience, my askbox is always open.

[soveryanon]

Reviewing time for MAG174!

- I absolutely ADORED how the sound effects were telling a story by themselves, giving a graduating sense of dread, with variations and quieter moments. With the wind blowing and occasionally howling, getting stronger, almost covering Jon’s voice at some points, it really felt like the sounds were competing with the words to give The Vast’s statement? (And in my mind, it felt like the team of editors competing against Jonny! It was so nice!)

I also loved how the steps of the colossus were adding a bit of pressure and gravitas, both to the statement and to the conversation: the distant low-pitched impact right after Martin’s “Do it.”, asking Jon to smite Simon? It was an easy trick, but it worked SO WELL to highlight the “Oh SHIT” moment! It was more subtle at other points of the arguments, but still reinforcing the feeling, that ideas were violent by themselves while the words were hammered in.

- I reaaaaally liked the tone Jon used in the statement, too, because it was very soft and rhythmic? There wasn’t the edge of cruelty that we had heard in other statements + combined with the fact that the focus wasn’t much on victims-hurting-other-victims-because-forced-by-the-Fear-system this time around, the statement felt more existentialist and overall a bit of a breather, which, ha. Fitting for The Vast, I guess. (Still people suffering, still people in pain, but one of the less upsetting statements this season, for me?)

- A bit surprised that Simon didn’t go for a space-related domain, but this one also made sense given what he had told Martin in season 4:

(MAG151) SIMON: I’ve actually been toying with the idea of trying to do something with the scale of humanity itself; you know, emphasise all that “overpopulation” nonsense, but… honestly, it just… doesn’t ring true for me. We’re all just so tiny and pointless, you see; it’s hard to really get past it. […] Do you know when the last ritual I attempted was? MARTIN: I… I don’t know, that space station? SIMON: Oh goodness no, that’s the future my boy!

Was this domain Ex Altiora made a reality, or it’s “just” that The Vast tends to be a bit less creative – big thing, too big for the human mind to compute, threatening you?

(MAG046, Herbert Knox) “It told the tale of a small, unnamed town high on a clifftop that sees a monstrous creature about to approach. The poem is unclear on whether it is a beast, a demon or a god, as it uses the words interchangeably. It is seen far-off, its head and body lost amongst the clouds. The majority of the story details the villagers’ attempts to prepare to do battle against this creature, but each time they devise a counter-measure, the thing gets closer and is shown to be far larger than previously suspected, rendering their preparation insignificant. At last, when it is almost upon them, its impossible vastness undeniable, the villagers surrendered to despairs, and hurled themselves off the clifftops onto the rocks far below.”

Still laughing a lot that Simon called this one “Junior” (I mean, he was proud of naming his last ritual “The Awful Deep”…).

- It was interesting how both statements dealt with the same situation from different perspectives, and how each related to The Vast? Edward was part of the colossus, Mehreen was watching it approach and threaten to crush her.

Edward was part of the colossus that we could hear since the very beginning (the impact followed by gusts of whistling wind marking the colossus’s footsteps, which were putting a strain on the bodies, including Edward’s, intertwined all through it): he was part of a whole, lost in the whole, in pain and faced with two alternatives (staying there, suffering and submitted to movements he didn’t control, or falling). It was very odd because it felt almost comforting that the other hands brought him back in when he was expelled from the whole since, at that moment, he feared the fall the most (“He is falling, and he is so small, and so afraid he wonders if he will ever hit the ground. He does not want to die smeared over that flat and hateful wasteland far below, and he flails, limbs throwing themselves violently around, trying to catch a hold of something, anything to save himself.”) – it felt like others were… saving him? Helping him? Still leaving him the choice (“Despite his dread, it takes only a moment for him to make his decision: he reaches out with his other arm, and feels it gripped by a dozen hands as, slowly, inexorably, Edward allows himself to be pulled back into the great, suffering colossus.”)? Though in the grand scheme of things, he was still stuck in an unpleasant, excruciating painful situation, but… compared to previous statements, it was still partially on his terms, instead of something that was absolutely inflicted to him with no way out? Amongst the small things that made me go “!”, the “every body” (“Every muscle in every body tenses all at once”): going back to the original meaning of the phrase, with the fact that “everybody” is, at the core of the word, “every body”. I felt like it was working well with the concept of The Vast: the fact that individuals aggregated together form something larger.

For Mehreen’s part: part of the horror, in her case, was that The Vast played on her sense of her responsibility/duty, not only on what would personally happen to her and her only. She was the only one able to take care of her “family” while they had various reactions to it: the daughter (who is helpless), the husband (who is in denial over what’s happening – this one sure hits differently with the current pandemic), and the mother (who is… only “berating” over wrong decisions). But what interests me the most is how she was dealing with memories: we’ve seen in previous statements that people’s memories are a fuzzy thing, twisted and rewritten to further feed the fears. It was obvious with Mehreen’s family (the fear “gave” her people to have to care for, further isolating and crushing her towards the threat), but I find it very interesting that compared to previous domains, she felt… on the verge of awareness about it?

(MAG163) ARCHIVIST: “Next to him, Charlie saw Ryan, who he’d known since childhood – though the other details were hazy. Ryan gave him a thumbs-up and an encouraging smile – before his face exploded inwards to a sniper’s bullet, peppering the boat with shards of bone and gore.”

(MAG164) ARCHIVIST: “There was never a time before the disease, no matter what the old bastards tell you. It has always been in the village, always festered in the dark corners where nobody could stomach to check, where good neighbours wouldn’t dream to speculate.”

(MAG165) ARCHIVIST: “Its pace remaining as it ever was, it does not care for coming pains as you are torn. Doesn’t it know who you are? No… And soon… neither will you. […] You will be someone again, someday. […] “I’m still Hannah!” you try to scream, but are you? No. Perhaps there’s some Veronica as fragments there, or Julian, or Anya, but… no. You feel the last of names and “who” you might have been be torn away and borne towards new bodies. New pages, blank; determined to be people.”

(MAG166) ARCHIVIST: “When had the crushing pressure in his chest become literal? When had the empty promise of the horizon finally vanished completely, replaced by the pitch darkness of this “forever wall of earth”? Sam did not know. Time had no meaning here. […] His existence was static, and eternal. Immutable. “Sleep” was only a memory, because even the prospect of unconsciousness might have made his present state slightly more bearable. Food as well, he knew, must be a thing, for he could feel the hunger, but his imagination failed to picture it. The only smell he knew was the damp, and the dirt.”

(MAG169) ARCHIVIST: “How long as she lived here? How long have these cramped, dingy rooms in the back of this sprawling rundown tenement been the place her heart calls home? She cannot recall, but long enough for her to grow into love for it, to cherish every rusted appliance, every crumbling piece of plasterboard, every – flickering – lightbulb. […] Sabina cannot… picture their faces, but knows that should they wake to see the state of the place… their anger would be blistering. […] What floor was her flat on again? Surely, it can’t be this high. […] Limping and desperate, she turns to see her furniture in flames, the bookshelves full of memories, that she can’t quite place [STATIC RISES] but knows are precious to her, curl and float away as ash. The photos on the wall of her family whose faces seem indistinct but she knows that she loves, begin to blacken, as the glass pops out of the frame.”

(MAG174) ARCHIVIST: “When it had first covered her home, bathing the street beyond her window in unexpected shade, she had thought it an eclipse. There wasn’t supposed to be one then, she is… sure of that – although if pressed, she could not have told you what day it is today. Before the shadow fell, she is sure that the sun was shining brightly – although, if pressed, she could not have pictured it. And the humid heat of a lingering summer had left the world sleepy, and unprepared – although, if pressed, she remembers the heat, but not the season. […] Mehreen cannot quite make out their faces as she bundles them into the car, old and shuddering as it coughs into life. Does she remember having a child? A spouse? Does she remember her mother having such a cruel sneer? It doesn’t matter. They are here now, and she has to save them.”

(+ Martin’s predicament in MAG170, when his memories were escaping him and he was mostly able to remember the painful parts only, or Francis’s “friends and families” being only brought in to deepen their pain. If Martin was any indication: it’s really upon remembering who he truly was and the bits of his life that weren’t unpleasant that he managed to free himself from the house’s influence, enough for Jon to find him and, it seems, give his protection again.)

It’s all very dream-logic: the rules are new, you just accept them as is, and you only go “… Wait” as an afterthought. What is interesting regarding Mehreen is that the interrogations felt like she was on the verge of waking up – or was that Jon, as a narrator, who was able to perceive that these bits of information were falsehoods created by the nightmare? Was that distancing just a special flavour in this domain, or something linked to the fact that they’re getting closer to the Panopticon / to The Eye’s domain?

- … Vast-typical, but I’m still !! that there are apparently domains without ground:

(MAG174) ARCHIVIST: I’m not entirely sure what you were expecting, it’s The Vast. The clue is in the name! MARTIN: Yes, alright…! ARCHIVIST: Just be glad that this is one of the domains that actually has ground to walk on.

Let them fly, Jonny!!

(… Though there are probably also Vast domains with only water. Deep, deep water.)

- NOT A SURPRISE but Everything About Simon This Episode Was Beautiful.

(MAG174) MARTIN: Fine! Fine. How about Simon. How close are we to him? [STATIC RISES] ARCHIVIST: Hum… Close, [STATIC FADES] but he’s able to move a lot faster than we are in this place. MARTIN: Meaning…? ARCHIVIST: Meaning I know where he is, but… if he doesn’t want us to reach him, I don’t know if we’ll have much of a chance. MARTIN: … So… So what, we’re just going to trust him to… [CHUCKLING] show up to his own execut– [SIMON CRASHES ON THE GROUND] MARTIN: [SURPRISED SCREAM] ARCHIVIST: [TINY CHUCKLES] MARTIN: Jesus! ARCHIVIST: Uh… Apparently! [CLEARING AWAY RUBBLE] SIMON: [STRAINED] … Hello…! [BONES CRACKING] [GROAN] Hello. Dreadfully sorry. [SIGH] I only just noticed you were both here! That’s the problem with having such a big place, you know – [INHALE] you can miss things if you’re not careful.

* Simon was probably NYOOOOOM-ing in the sky until then. I’m only surprised that there wasn’t a direct “Enjoy Sky Blue” reference.

* The fact that Simon crash-landed. What an entrance.

* =D And the self-inflicted prophecy has been fulfilled: Jon met Simon Fairchild. (MAG124: “Fairchild seems to travel far and wide for his victims, with no motivation other than… variety. I do not think I ever wish to meet him.”) Though honestly, Jon took his meeting with the old man faaaar better than I would have thought – I was assuming that he would get on Jon’s nerves much more easily.

* Martin’s prophetic words AND Jon’s “Apparently!”: was it to answer Martin’s comment about Simon showing up, or Martin’s scream of “Jesus!”. (Peter called him a “grubby Jesus” behind his back, Jon is allowed to call other avatars the same!)

* Old man popping back bones and dusting off rubble. Simon, ilu.

* I’m still such a fan of Simon’s breathlessness and intonations! You can hear that he’s a Vast avatar from the way he talks and breathes!

* I am laughing so much:

(MAG174) SIMON: Good to see you again, Martin! And you must be the famous Archivist, Herald of the Ceaseless Watcher, Harbinger of the New Age, etcetera. Lovely to meet you at last. ARCHIVIST: [SHORT EXHALE] SIMON: Simon Fairchild, at your service.

Over that “etcetera”. SIMON…………………… (It was so dismissive while, at the same time, HE chose to give Jon honorifics and nobody had asked.)

Really love how he’s still so funny and amiable while being absolutely awful =D Someone is having a great time.

- That someone wasn’t Martin.

(MAG174) SIMON: And how are you, Martin? Still trying to save the world and all that? MARTIN: … Yes. SIMON: Pity. … Well. Armageddon… it’s not for everyone, I suppose. I’m quite enjoying it, of course. Although… Junior over there can be a little bit of a handful. [DISTANT LOW-PITCHED IMPACT, FOLLOWED BY GUSTS OF WIND] MARTIN: [AGGRAVATED INHALE] I might have guessed you’d be happy living in this nightmare. SIMON: I mean… not that it matters but… yes I am! Honestly, I think you could be too if you set your mind to it. But I’m not one to tell you how to live your eternity. MARTIN: … No. You’re not. Because I’m done listening to you! SIMON: I’m sorry? I’m not sure I follow. MARTIN: All those lies you told me… You helped to do this, you turned the world into your… your playground! SIMON: Hum… Not to be a pedant, but if you recall, I was actually doing a favour for Peter. And if Peter had won, none of this would have happened. Also, not to make excuses but they weren’t exactly lies, just… oversimplifications of complicated truths! And guesses. … A lot of guesses. [FOOTSTEPS] … A–almost all guesses really, now I come to think about it. MARTIN: Shut up! I don’t care.

… I would have loved to hear Simon and Elias interact, because “oversimplifications of complicated truths” as a new way to say “lie” is right up Elias’s alley (purposefully misleading, making guesses and presenting them with more certainty than you hold). It’s horrible that, technically, Peter was probably the most transparent avatar of the lot regarding his convictions? He was genuinely fearing The Extinction, he was genuinely hating Gertrude, he was genuinely trying to get Martin to join The Lonely for his own interests.

- Ooooh, how the tables have turned…

(MAG166) HELEN: Oh, hello! [FOOTSTEPS] In a better mood, are we? Feeling more secure now you’ve learned how to kill~? ARCHIVIST: [SHARP INHALE] Something like that. MARTIN: Will you tell me how he did it? ARCHIVIST: Martin… MARTIN: He just keeps going all vague about it! HELEN: Oh, goodness. You see what you’ve done to the poor boy, Jon? He’s coming to me for clear answers. [HELEN LAUGHS AND LAUGHS] ARCHIVIST: Shut up! HELEN: It’s very satisfying though, isn’t it? Teasing out vague information; you see why Elias got a kick out of it. ARCHIVIST: Shut up! MARTIN: Jon…! HELEN: You’re right, Martin. He is tetchy…! MARTIN: I didn’t say he was te– HELEN: So! So! An explanation.

(MAG174) SIMON: Goodness! We’re rather tetchy, aren’t we? ARCHIVIST: We’ve… [CHUCKLING] not been having an easy journey. MARTIN: Jon. ARCHIVIST: What – it’s true, we haven’t.

Jon&Simon vs. Martin, just like Helen&Martin vs. Jon (down to the “tetchy”).

- I’ll be laughing forever over Simon fleeing the heck out of the situation and saving his own life in the process:

(MAG174) MARTIN: That’s enough. Jon? ARCHIVIST: Uh… Yes? MARTIN: … Do it. [DISTANT LOW-PITCHED IMPACT, FOLLOWED BY GUSTS OF WIND] ARCHIVIST: Uh… SIMON: “Do” what? MARTIN: … Kill him. ARCHIVIST: Uh… SIMON: Han–hang on. Can he do that? MARTIN: He can, and he’s going to! [FOOTSTEPS] SIMON: Oh! ARCHIVIST: [STAMMERING] Oh, uh… SIMON: Right, just, hum… Seems a bit rude, to be honest! MARTIN: … Jon? ARCHIVIST: J–just give me a moment, I– SIMON: In fact, yes! You know what? I’ll, I’ll probably just be going, then! I–I–I’d prefer to keep existing, if it’s all the same to you, hum…! MARTIN: J–Jon?! ARCHIVIST: I– SIMON: Been lovely chatting to you! Good to see you guys! MARTIN: [STAMMERING] SIMON: Feel free to pop by again when you’re feeling less, uh. Murdery. MARTIN: Jon!! SIMON: Byeeeee! [SIMON DEPARTING / YEETING HIMSELF OUT] [WIND GENTLY HOWLING] [SILENCE] ARCHIVIST: [SIGH] [FOOSTEP] MARTIN: You let him go. ARCHIVIST: … Yeah…

SIMON. Some have mentioned that Simon was a cartoon character and, yeah. Absolutely. The sudden stammering and amiability while he was behaving like a coward? The fact he really didn’t want to die despite his Grand Talks about the meaningless of one’s existence in The Vastness Of The Universe?

(MAG151) SIMON: It’s all a matter of perspective, you see. My patron has gifted me with… quite frankly, an absurdly long life. An appropriate gift, and one that serves to provide a certain distance from things. Of course, a paltry few centuries is nothing, really, but it’s more than most get. And even in that brief time, I’ve seen all sorts of ebbs and flows to balance off things. […] MARTIN: Assuming The Extinction doesn’t derail everything…! SIMON: Which is why… I’m happy helping Peter. But! If it does: then I’ll either be dead, which will be fine, or… I’ll adjust. […] Life has continued through dozens of apocalypses already. Ice ages; pandemics; calamities; extinctions… The only reason this one feels special is because, well… it’s happening to you. And that’s the sort of solipsism that tends to come with loneliness – in my experience. So. My feeling is that I’ll help out where I can; but ultimately, if this “Armageddon” comes off, then… so be it. Either billions suffer and life goes on; or billions suffer and life doesn’t. In the grand scheme of things, it’s all… much of a muchness.

Slightly hypocritical, uh? When it comes to himself, he’s ~insignificant~ but still ready to cling to his own life as long as he can enjoy things.

- Jon explained his reasons for stopping the Smiting Avatars quest, and they’re very sound arguments… but it’s still interesting that it confirms that the only avatars he killed (Not!Sasha, Jude, Jared) were the ones who marked him, while Jon was more lenient towards the ones who hadn’t (Arthur Nolan, Oliver, Simon, Helen if we assume that Michael marked Jon first, and that Michael!Distortion and Helen!Distortion are different enough). Helen has not been super threatening this season, but she has tried to upset him on purpose, making fun of him, and yet, Jon didn’t really raise the possibility of eradicating her (he only mentioned that it would hurt them both, but mostly Helen, if he were to use her corridors). I’m reassured that he’s not trying to mindlessly kill avatars but it’s still curious…

(And I still wonder how Jon would react in front of Daisy and Melanie, who marked him for the Hunt and Slaughter…)

- I’m still very curious about Helen trying to push so much for murder?

(MAG174) HELEN: I just wanted to add my vote to the disappointed side. MARTIN: Wait, really? HELEN: I was rather looking forward to watching an old man metaphysically explode. ARCHIVIST: [SIGH] HELEN: Honestly, I feel a little bit cheated. The others were exceptional fun. ARCHIVIST: … Y–you were watching? HELEN: [CHUCKLING] Of course! As much fun as the new world is, I am not about to miss a real, honest-to-godless demigod murder spree! [LAUGHS AND LAUGHS, ECHOING] MARTIN: [SIGH] You’re really not helping. HELEN: I’m not trying to! ARCHIVIST: Look, it’s none of your business. Either of you. [DISTANT LOW-PITCHED IMPACT, FOLLOWED BY GUSTS OF WIND] MARTIN: Like hell it isn’t! ARCHIVIST: Martin. MARTIN: Don’t “Martin” me! Sure, he looks like a harmless old man, but if– ARCHIVIST: I know, Martin – I know all the things he’s done. HELEN: Fantastic…! So, rip him up! Pop him! Oh, oh, but, hum, just give me a bit of a head-start so I can find a good spot.

* Helen, absolutely proud that she’s “not helping”.

* … Helen, you REALLY sound like you have a death wish.

* Helen had already watched Not!Sasha’s smiting in MAG165 (since she commented about it in the following episode), and now acknowledged that she watched the others. It’s the third time she’s appeared in front of Jon&Martin. For someone who claimed to be enjoying the new world and be exceptionally busy… Helen has been spending a LOT of time looking at Jon&Martin’s journey. Why…? Is it because their conflicted feelings are feeding her? Is it because she’s monitoring them? Is she hiding someone (Annabelle, or Georgie&Melanie) inside of her corridors…? She had contributed to Jon getting his last mark (it’s still a bit unclear to me, but Peter&Martin were discussing about “the door” at the beginning of MAG158: she might have given Peter the tunnels’ map), but we still don’t know much about her intentions apart from “enjoying the chaos” (which… would be enough considering The Distortion). Why is she so encouraging of Jon’s murder spree, in a way that is so transparent…? Is it a remnant of the original Helen Richardson, trying to feel better about her own choices by having Jon succumb to the temptation of monsterhood like she has…?

* It’s… interesting that Jon couldn’t apparently tell that she had been “watching” when he smote the other avatars. I’d have thought he would be able to tell but, apparently, if he’s not focusing, he can’t know that she’s there.

- When it comes to the episode feeling like a “breather”: technically, it wasn’t hard after last week! But it was significantly less tense, and there was progress regarding Jon’s own boundaries and what he wants to do with his powers, and… cute bantering. Jon being a chirpy little SHIT from the start of the discussion segment:

(MAG174) MARTIN: [SIGH] … [BAG JOSTLING] Is it much further? ARCHIVIST: [SMALL CHUCKLE] Yes. MARTIN: Urgh…! ARCHIVIST: I’m not entirely sure what you were expecting, it’s The Vast. The clue is in the name! MARTIN: Yes, alright…! ARCHIVIST: Just be glad that this is one of the domains that actually has ground to walk on. MARTIN: Whatever. [DISTANT LOW-PITCHED IMPACT, FOLLOWED BY GUSTS OF WIND] S–so how far are we from the other side? And–and don’t say time and space don’t work here, that’s a cop-out and you know it. ARCHIVIST: [SIGH] Fine! Three days. MARTIN: Thank you. [SILENCE] … Wait. Wait, what counts as a day? ARCHIVIST: [CHUCKLING] What an excellent question! MARTIN: Oh my go–! You can be infuriating sometimes, you know that? ARCHIVIST: [ANGELIC] … Yes!

… No static =D While on two other occasions, Jon used his powers to “know” about things:

(MAG174) MARTIN: Fine! Fine. How about Simon. How close are we to him? [STATIC RISES] ARCHIVIST: Hum… Close, [STATIC FADES] but he’s able to move a lot faster than we are in this place. […] MARTIN: … You’re removing evil from the world! ARCHIVIST: I, I’m not, though, am I? [STATIC RISES] The tenement fire is still burning; the mortal garden is growing wild; the carousel i– HELEN: Ugh! [STATIC FADES]

So Jon didn’t even try on that first one. I mean, Martin brought it onto himself – how could Jon describe distances without Objective Time And Space except by “far” and “close” (like in MAG167, where Jon confirmed that they could rest a bit since the next domain was still far from them)? Martin is the little kid on the car backseat, uh.

… But also: Martin closed the last episode saying that the kids from The Dark’s domain would “just need to hang on a little longer”, and that the faster they would reach the Panopticon, the faster they could put a stop to this. No wonder he was impatient to reach the end of this one, since he knows now what the kids’ nightmare looked like.

(I’m still REELING over Jon’s “Yes! :)” over knowing that he’s infuriating sometimes. He knows and he’s proud of it and knows that Martin is dating this infuriating prick =D)

- … So, once again: avatars know about Jon’s status and that the apocalypse happened through him.

(MAG164) HELEN: What would I have to gloat about? Much as I am delighted by this brave new world in which we find ourselves, I can take no credit for it. This was all… you!

(MAG165) NOT!SASHA: Well, of course you want to wallow in my shame like your voyeur master!

(MAG166) HELEN: We’re all here, Martin. The Stranger; The Buried; The Desolation; all of us. But The Eye still rules. All this fear is being performed for its benefit. And so, there are now exactly two roles available in this new world of ours: the watcher, and the watched. Subject, and object. Those who are feared, and those who are afraid. And Jon, well… he is part of The Eye; a very important part.

(MAG168) ARCHIVIST: “This report is being sent to: The Great Eye, that watches all who linger in terror, and gorges itself on the sufferings of those under its unrelenting, stuporous gaze! And its Archive, which draws knowledge of this suffering unto itself. […] Perhaps once it might have horrified me, or given me some sense of pursuing the ultimate release of the world that you have damned.”

(MAG169) JUDE: Fancy seeing you both here. To what, exactly, do I owe the pleasure, the honour, of being graced by the great and powerful Archivist, harbinger of this new world, and his, uh… valet…? […] Just messing around~! Wouldn’t want to keep you from your oh-so-special business, Your Holiness.

(MAG171) JARED: Mm. … So, is there any way this doesn’t end in me dead? I’m guessing that’s on the docket if you’re here. Unless you’re just here to smell the flowers.

(MAG172) ARCHIVIST: “THE SPIDER: Oh, Francis… It’s such a shame, but I couldn’t do such a thing even if I wanted to! The man in the audience saw to that!”

(MAG173) CALLUM: … You’re the Eye guy, right? ARCHIVIST: That’s right. CALLUM: So you’re like… real important. ARCHIVIST: [HUFF] I suppose I am!

(MAG174) SIMON: Good to see you again, Martin! And you must be the famous Archivist, Herald of the Ceaseless Watcher, Harbinger of the New Age, etcetera. Lovely to meet you at last. ARCHIVIST: [SHORT EXHALE] SIMON: Simon Fairchild, at your service. [FOOTSTEPS] ARCHIVIST: I know who you are. SIMON: [CHUCKLES] Of course you do! I imagine you know pretty much everything by this point. How is it? How does it feel? [SHUFFLING] ARCHIVIST: … Strange. SIMON: Yes! I can imagine. These gifts can feel very disconcerting at times. I’m sure you’ll get used to it eventually. […] We don’t get many visitors these days, and, well. You might be the closest thing the universe has ever had to an important person! ARCHIVIST: Uh… I, hum… SIMON: I mean, obviously you’re still ultimately finite and all that, but [INHALE] altering the very fabric of reality, that’s… [WHISTLE] That’s pretty good going, all things considered. […] HELEN: [CHUCKLING] Of course! As much fun as the new world is, I am not about to miss a real, honest-to-godless demigod murder spree! [LAUGHS AND LAUGHS, ECHOING] […] I honestly thought that actually ending the world would be enough to stop you whining, but no! You’re the most powerful person, in a world where the worst consequences imaginable have already happened! Absolute power, with zero responsibility! What more can you possibly need to just – enjoy – yourself – a tiny – bit!

So, nothing new, but still eternally laughing that Jon was apparently marked as harbinger-of-the-apocalypse and that nobody cares about Jonah.

- I’m squinting at what Simon said regarding Jon’s powers:

(MAG174) SIMON: Well, in that case, thank you for swinging by to my… huge corner of the apocalypse. We don’t get many visitors these days, and, well. You might be the closest thing the universe has ever had to an important person! ARCHIVIST: Uh… I, hum… SIMON: I mean, obviously you’re still ultimately finite and all that, but [INHALE] altering the very fabric of reality, that’s… [WHISTLE] That’s pretty good going, all things considered.

Because it reminds me of the wording used for Hill Top Road?

(MAG139, Eugene Vanderstock) “But it seems the fight scarred the place in a way far deeper than simple fire. A scar in reality, that I believe has since been compounded by the interferences of other powers.”

(MAG146) HELEN: There is… something wrong, with Hill Top Road. You know it as well as I do. Some strange “scar in reality” at the centre of… whatever it is the Spider is spinning.

(And it’s still interesting regarding Jon’s status: if he is the one who “altered the very fabric of reality”, can he alter it back? Can he alter it in another way again? It still feels like if someone can do anything about the new configuration, it will be him…)

- I’m suuuuuuuuuuuuper glad at Martin’s rant and anger towards Simon, because it’s… coming close to talking about his own feelings regarding the apocalypse – the fact that he was misled all through season 4 to believe that The Extinction was the most urgent threat, and the fact that he was used by Jonah to give Jon his last mark with The Lonely, and the fact that… Martin chose to not kill Jonah Magnus’s body, unaware that it was still playing the game (and making Elias win). Martin hadn’t mentioned his own guilt so far, the fact that he was used by Jonah (and by Peter, and that Simon played with him a bit) and that he could have technically prevented everything if he had just stabbed Jonah in the Panopticon. I wonder if he will talk about that at some point?

It’s also interesting that this episode ended with the awkwardness of Jon inviting Martin to “lead on” before remembering that he’s the one knowing about the direction and correcting himself (“Follow me, then”) while Martin had expressed some anguish over the fact that he was “following, al–always following, never leading; never leading” in MAG170: it feels like there could be some feeling brewing over his own uselessness and powerlessness right now? Or like someone (Annabelle, Helen, Jonah) could definitely try to use it against him – Annabelle already did (“Does he even need you at all?”), which Jon kind of appeased the following episode (“Yes, Martin, you are my reason.”), but it could still come into play.

- Overall I’m not surprised that Martin absolutely wanted Simon dead in these circumstances – and it might be why he embraced the smiting spree so easily, because it could allow him (through Jon) to hurt back the avatars and monsters who had toyed with people? Peter is already dead, and Jonah is still far away. I reaaaally didn’t like the smiting spree, but I can understand how Martin had wanted to embrace it as a short-term solution; that’s the closest thing he could have to get some power back. (Simon admitted that The Extinction and what he had told Martin had mostly been “guesses”, but I also still wonder if it’s not going to be relevant, though not exactly as defined by Adelard… Simon had told Martin, in MAG151, that cataclysms and end-of-the-worlds had technically always been a thing depending of the point of view – it doesn’t mean that everything was bollocks.)

- Once again, what is Martin’s status in the new world? Because Simon’s comment definitely sounded like he was seeing Martin as one-of-the-avatars:

(MAG174) MARTIN: [AGGRAVATED INHALE] I might have guessed you’d be happy living in this nightmare. SIMON: I mean… not that it matters but… yes I am! Honestly, I think you could be too if you set your mind to it. But I’m not one to tell you how to live your eternity.

We haven’t seen Martin use Lonely powers apart from the end of MAG149, and his status was ambiguous in the Lonely house from MAG170, but mmmm…

- I’m laughing so much over Martin still being petty over Jon sparing Simon, because it sounded ONCE AGAIN like jealousy and it makes Martin out to be so over-the-top:

(MAG174) MARTIN: Why did you let him go– ARCHIVIST: Uh… MARTIN: –Jon? ARCHIVIST: I don’t… know, I just–! [SIGH] I didn’t want to kill him. MARTIN: Why not? Because he was nice to you? [FOOTSTEP] Because he was charming, because he was fun? ARCHIVIST: No, I–I–I, I just…

Martin is a bitch and I LOVE HIM. (Also, that sounds like Martin himself found Simon charming&fun.)

I’m able to appreciate his over-the-topness because he also gave genuine reasons, was aware that it was a bit humiliating:

(MAG174) MARTIN: … Good point! [SMALL CHUCKLES] I’ll keep my apology, then. [RUSTLING OF CLOTHES] [BAG JOSTLING] [SMALL CHUCKLES] … I do kind of wish you’d waited until after Fairchild to have your crisis, though. ARCHIVIST: You really want that old man dead…! MARTIN: I mean, su–, yeah, sure, when you say it like that it sounds bad! ARCHIVIST: But what did he do to you? MARTIN: … He threatened to throw me off a rollercoaster. ARCHIVIST: Ah! MARTIN: … Okay, I, I know it sounds like a joke, but– ARCHIVIST: No, obviously, he’s an avatar of The Vast, I understand, it’s a scary threat coming from him. MARTIN: Yeah! ARCHIVIST: It just… doesn’t sound like a scary threat. MARTIN: Thanks for that.

Martin sounds INCREDIBLY PETTY, once again, but it’s also very valid: back in MAG151, I appreciated how his “How do you feel about… rollercoasters?” / “Uh… neutral” answer had protected him from both of the usual outcomes (getting recruited as a Vast avatar or fed to it as a victim), but it’s true that it was still a threat, thrown casually by a powerful avatar who was flexing that he could just kill him if he wanted to. It doesn’t feel good to be spared just because your potential tormentor decided that you were “no fun”.

It was cute of Jon to very awkwardly try to break it down, and kind of make it worse in the process – because yes, it sounded like a ridiculous threat said like this… but also, Simon would have done it, and it was a genuine threat.

- I’m absolutely delighted that Jon explained his feelings regarding the smiting – a mix of firmness and getting his points across, and that Martin apologised for pushing him in that direction ;w;

(MAG174) ARCHIVIST: I–I just–! … This whole… “avenging angel” thing, I–I’m not… It doesn’t feel right. MARTIN: … It seemed to feel right when we were avenging all the wrongs done against you! ARCHIVIST: I know. I–I–I know, alright? But, well, th–… [SIGH] That’s kind of the problem, I have all this… power and, and I, I want to use it to try and help, but I… I don’t know, I mean, I do. Uh… I’ve done so much damage, an–and anything that might help to balance that is–! [SOFT SIGH] … But killing other avatars, it, it’s not… I, I don’t think it makes anything better. I think it just makes me worse. MARTIN: … You’re removing evil from the world! ARCHIVIST: I, I’m not, though, am I? [STATIC RISES] The tenement fire is still burning; the mortal garden is growing wild; the carousel i– […] [SIGH] I, I, I… [SIGH] I’m sorry, Martin. After meeting the child, I thought… I’ve been… I really hoped things would be simpler, you know? A nice, straightforward apocalypse. MARTIN: [INHALE] No… [SIGH] No, I’m sorry. Cheerleading you when you’re on a magical murder spree probably… wasn’t a great idea. ARCHIVIST: I started it. MARTIN: … Good point! [SMALL CHUCKLES] I’ll keep my apology, then.

Sentence of the episode for me: “But killing other avatars, it, it’s not… I, I don’t think it makes anything better. I think it just makes me worse.”

I’m glad that Martin was able to keep (some of) his pettiness in check enough to hear him out, though, and that he apologised (I really didn’t hear the “I’ll keep my apology, then” as something serious, but as cute banter between a couple who are back on the same wavelength: Martin had already admitted that he behaved poorly – it’s not something he can exactly take back); and on the other hand, that Jon also explained how it didn’t work. It’s like Martin isolating himself during the statement: they’ve made a mistake, they’re ready to acknowledge it, and they decide to not make it again. (Though, where was Martin during the statement portion this episode? At least in MAG171 and (partially) MAG172, he had stayed close to Jon.)

Right now, the problem with Jon’s powers really isn’t whether he can but whether he should – and the fact that he feels like it might be negatively impacting him is a valid argument (+ the ethical concern, not mentioned, of being judge/jury/executioner all by himself). The season began with The Eye wanting Jon to leave the cabin, wanting for the cabin to be his “chrysalis”, and… that cannot be good.

- I still lovelovelove how, since the reveal in MAG158 that “Elias Bouchard” was actually Jonah Magnus, Jon&Martin… are still mostly sticking to “Elias”.

(MAG158) ARCHIVIST: Uh– yes. And I’d wager that Elias’s body, uh… BASIRA: Gotta be Jonah Magnus, right? ARCHIVIST: I’d say so. BASIRA: [SIGH] And he’s been body-hopping like whatever was in Rayner. […] PETER: … No. No! This isn’t fair, do you have any idea what you’ve done? You knew, he must have– MARTIN: Elias– … Jonah had nothing to do with it.

(MAG160) MARTIN: Are we… … Are we safe here? ARCHIVIST: [SIGH] Safe as anywhere else. If Elias wanted to find us, I imagine he could, but… I doubt the police will be able to. […] Does she know if they’ve found the old prison yet? The… Panopticon, Elia– … Magnus’s body.

(MAG161) MARTIN: [SIGH] Gloating, Jon. [CREAKING SOUND] Elias won, and there were some tapes he’d kept for himself, and he wanted to gloat. So, he sent them! ARCHIVIST: He’s not… MARTIN: I–I don’t see– ARCHIVIST: … “Elias”. MARTIN: Jonah, then. I don’t know, I find it hard to think of him as… I don’t really like to think of him!

(MAG162) ARCHIVIST: No, no, lo–look… I, I–I was listening, and I–I was filled with this… hatred. This anger; I–I wanted to leave, and hunt down Elias, a–and…! MARTIN: W–wow, okay… […] Do you think it’ll do anything? Confronting Elias? ARCHIVIST: [INHALE] I… [SIGH] Maybe? MARTIN: No, I’m serious. Do we… [PAUSE IN THE PACKING SOUNDS] Is there a chance that we can undo this?

(MAG164) MARTIN: What about Elias? [STATIC INCREASES] ARCHIVIST: He’s inside the Panopticon; the tower, far above the world. MARTIN: That one? ARCHIVIST: Yes. [PAUSE] MARTIN: How is he? ARCHIVIST: Hard to say. The, the way this works, this… “new sight”, the knowledge is, is… [SIGH] It’s somehow wrapped up in the Panopticon? An eye can’t… see inside itself. MARTIN: Mm. ARCHIVIST: But I can feel him in there. MARTIN: Hm. That sounds… gross. ARCHIVIST: It is! [CHUCKLES]

(MAG167) ARCHIVIST: Help us with what? MARTIN: ‘xcuse me? ARCHIVIST: Annabelle, help us with “what”? Our–our, our journey, killing Elias, vanishing the Entities – what?

(MAG174) MARTIN: Thanks for that. … Hang on, you’re still down to kill Elias, right? Uh, oh, Jonah, whatever. ARCHIVIST: I’m still going to confront him. [INHALE] I don’t know if killing him is something I’m even… capable of, but if I can and I have to, I will. MARTIN: Yeeah? ARCHIVIST: Don’t worry. I won’t hesitate.

Because: same. He still doesn’t really register as “Jonah Magnus” to me.

I’m also laughing a lot at Martin, who began the season with “I don’t really like to think of Elias :/” and, since then, has most often been the one to breach the subject of Elias (+ we can add MAG170: “I mean, the interview was weird, I… I don’t really remember the man who talked to me. Just his eyes. They stared at me; th–through me, and… and, I–I knew that he knew what I’d done. God, I…! I was so scared, but… but then he smiled and shook my hand…! What was his name? [CREAKING] He said I “had the job”…! [CHUCKLE] That he “looked forward to working with me”! … I was still so scared I could barely move my arm…! I was so terrified I’d let him down…!” – even when he was losing his memories, still remembering Elias’s eyes, and THIS is how MartinElias can still w–)

I really wonder if they’ll even try to call him “Jonah” when face-to-face with him, or… will still stick to “Elias” out of habit.

- … Well. That is, if Elias still has a face. We know that some part of him still remains in the Panopticon-Institute (MAG164: “He’s inside the Panopticon; the tower, far above the world.”), that Jon can still “feel” him there, but the fact that Jon can’t know more about it (because “an eye can’t see inside itself”) combined with the fact that Jon’s anger towards him was a key point in making them leave the cabin and the confrontation with Elias is still their current goal… keeps making me think that Elias might not be in the same state as he was in MAG158. Stuck in layers and layers of spiderwebs? Merged with the Panopstitute (since his powers relied on Magnus’s body staying in the middle of it)? Stuck inside of his old body? What is the part of Jonah Magnus can feel inside the Panopstitute: is it Jonah Magnus’s body or his consciousness? Is it still both?

- Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm Jon.

(MAG174) MARTIN: Hang on, you’re still down to kill Elias, right? Uh, oh, Jonah, whatever. ARCHIVIST: I’m still going to confront him. [INHALE] I don’t know if killing him is something I’m even… capable of, but if I can and I have to, I will. MARTIN: Yeeah? ARCHIVIST: Don’t worry. I won’t hesitate. MARTIN: … Right. [DISTANT LOW-PITCHED IMPACT, FOLLOWED BY GUSTS OF WIND] [INHALE] Right, alright then. Good. … Let’s go, then. We don’t want to keep him waiting!

“I won’t hesitate,” he hesitated, hesitatingly.

Well. Not exactly: Jon’s tone was casually firm, but also felt a bit distracted and, most importantly… why the need to add so many conditions, Jon.

* “if I can”: true that, unlike other avatars until then, Elias is tied to Beholding. Can Beholding’s powers be used against another Beholding avatar? Elias resisted the compulsion in MAG092 (… or so he said, before spilling everything ~on his own terms uwu~ – he, at least, was able to delay the effects), so Jon’s cautiousness is understandable.

* “if I have to”: that one is a bit more unexpected, because that’s… a big condition. In what circumstances would Jon “have to” kill Elias? It’s good, though, because it implies that it’s not about plain revenge anymore, but whether it could help the situation.

Anyway: the shift to “confront Elias” is a good one! … And gives me the feeling that Elias either won’t be in a state to be confronted, either will have further contributions to make.

(- Martin’s “We don’t want to keep him waiting!” also brings to mind that Elias is probably aware that they’re coming, right now. He’s in the middle of the seeing-it-all tower: unless he’s already incapacitated, they won’t be taking him by surprise, and he might be prepared to welcome them.)

- … Welp, I was feeling like we were hitting rock bottom last week, hope-wise, but this episode felt… like a breather (ha)? Not exactly hopeful per se, but definitely lighter (Martin firm about wanting to save the world, Jon finally wording what was bothering him with the smiting, Martin apologising, Jon and Martin reaching an understanding, not playing Helen’s game and thinking about the Elias case). So, #BackToWorryingOverDaisy – Jon didn’t want to kill Simon, doesn’t want to kill avatars just for the sake of it, but there is still Daisy running wild…

(And I would still feel a bit (lot) miffed if Jon were to kill her, given that she’s part of Basira’s story, that Basira promised her and that Basira arguably got the worst of it when it came to being manipulated without achieving/“winning” anything in season 4? I think it’s more likely that Jon could have the power to incapacitate her and give the time for Basira to fulfil her promise, if there is no other way, but I don’t know, I keep hoping that there could be another way with the fact that Jon can change the rules (turning the feared into the afraid, changing the “fabric of reality”) and that Daisy had a connection to The Eye (she signed a contract in season 4)…)

   MAG175’s title is mysterioooous. If MAG174 hadn’t happened, I would have said “Vast” but… Mm. Only Spiral and Hunt left when it comes to domains, so I would wager Spiral, more specifically with digital fuckedupness, reminiscent of MAG065? (But I could also see how it could tie with Hunt if thinking about beginnings, and it could go very well with Extinction too… if this one ends up relevant again). In itself, the title feels perfect for lore about the new reality (tying in with a few meta considerations and comments which have been made by various avatars), so mmmmm: could also be a switch in perspective with Annabelle or Elias, I guess…

[doom-dreaming]

“Dear Digital Diary”

I finally finished it! So this is my fic for @shanblackwood - as part of a trade (that beautiful bloody monstery boy from a while back). It got much longer than I was expecting, so most of it is under the cut. There’s a lot of pining, a little bit of smut, and copious amounts of fluff. (I hope it’s everything you wanted!!)

(Read it on Ao3 here!)

- - - - - - - - - -

“Oh fuck, we’re gonna have to retake that—” He grins briefly at the camera, all sharp white teeth and sparkling eyes, before ducking his head, laughing.

Your heart skips a beat. You rewind. Pause. It feels like that smile is for you. Like those pale blue eyes are looking directly into yours. You take a screenshot. It joins the other thousands in the folder labeled ‘outtakes.’ You think it sounded innocuous enough.

Not that either of them ever go through your files—you’re one of the few people they trust. They have no reason not to. You’re just the video editor, after all. They’re the faces on the screen. They’re the voices on the radio. You’re not much more than a useful tool to them.

You press play. “—have to retake that—” A few keystrokes, a few clicks, remove the clip from the rest of the recording. ‘>DELETE or SAVE?’ the screen prompts.

Keystroke. >SAVE  Click.

- - - - - - - - - -

“How do you always manage to fuck these up?” Tyreen sounds incredulous, but not angry. She punches Troy’s arm and he jumps away with an exaggerated yelp, then smiles. It’s equal parts dazzling and dangerous.

Your heart does a little flip as you play it back in slow motion. >SAVE

The next one is Tyreen’s. She mispronounces a word. “What’s that about me fucking up?” Troy teases, repeating her slip-up in a mocking tone. “Shut it, asshole.” Again, not angry. Playful. He sticks out his tongue at her. Laughs through a grin.

You cut the footage. ‘>DELETE or SAVE?’ Your hand hovers over the keys. >DELETE Click. You attempt to distract yourself with the rest of the video. Anything to keep from thinking about that slick pink tongue on your neck, between your lips...between your thighs.

Three hours later, you pause with your cursor over the power menu. Instead, you nudge it toward the little trash icon. Click. Click. ‘RESTORE TO “outtakes”? >YES   NO’ Click.

- - - - - - - - - -

It’s late. Your work had been easy, for the most part. Just fixing pacing, sound and color correction, little things. The twins had stayed professional—well, as professional as they could be, which wasn’t saying much. But they’d gotten their point across with minimal mistakes.

All except for the few minutes before the cameras started rolling when Troy had decided to sing. You’d never heard it before—the song—but you rewound and replayed it so many times that you knew the words by the time you finally forced yourself to move on. After cutting and saving the clip, of course.

He hadn’t been trying to put on a show. He hadn’t even been particularly loud—you had to adjust the volume and bump down the ambient noise to even make out most of it—he was just...singing for the sake of it. Fixing his hair, his eyeliner… ...singing. The usual frantic beat of your heart had settled into a gentle flutter—not the typical reaction when you saw him.

And now you’re leaned back in your chair, watching it again. His eyes are unfocused, distant, but not troubled. He seems calm. Content. That cloying warmth is wrapping itself around your heart again. You find yourself wishing you could touch him. You want to reach through the screen and run your hand through his hair. Trace his jawline. Kiss him. You want to feel him murmuring those lyrics against your lips, humming into your mouth—

You shove your chair away from your desk. Run your hands through your hair. Sigh and close your eyes and shake your head. You can’t do this. You absolutely can’t let yourself feel this. Sooner or later, it’ll start affecting your work, and if you give anything less than what the twins expect—if you’re not useful anymore—

You stand. Close the video. Turn off your monitor. Go to bed. But not even sleep lets you escape from visions of his hands on your body, his mouth on your neck, his whispered words in your ear.

- - - - - - - - - -

You wake the next morning to the insistent ‘ping’ of your ECHOcomm. More work. Well, that’s a good sign.

Your breath stops—no, it feels more like it’s punched out of you—when you see the name of the sender. That single, simple, four-letter name. Troy. Troy Calypso. You hate the way your fingers shake as you open the message. It’s semi-formal, all business, a simple request for more editing. He’s attached several files. More work, you reassure yourself. Just more work.

Still, it takes you the better part of an hour to finally sit down at your computer. But you do, armed with shitty coffee and a very fragile grasp on your willpower. Six videos. DOWNLOAD ALL? >YES   NO Click. You try not to watch the progress bar.

Why in the hell do you feel like this? Sure, you’d always had a tiny crush on Troy—but so did a lot of people. They’d be stupid not to, you think. He’s tall and toned and dangerous and confident...and those eyes... You sip at your coffee, grimacing against the half-burnt aftertaste. This crush is getting out of hand, that’s your problem. And it’d come completely out of left field, too. Day one was, ‘oh, he’s cute,’ and now… Well, now you were here. Working yourself into a frenzy over the sight of his goddamn name.

A chime sounds, announcing the download’s completion. You gulp down the rest of the coffee, crush the flimsy cup in your hand, and start clicking. You recognize the setup from the thumbnails alone. New gun reveals. Some of the tension drains from your body. These are something you can handle. Granted, they’re more candid than the usual broadcasts, but they’re still not as personal as you’d been expecting. You fight back the wave of disappointment, rationalizing it away. Telling yourself it’s for the best.

“Hey, ECHOnet, it’s your favorite twin, with another shipment of kickass guns! Tyreen had something “super important” to do—” You smile as he claws the quotation marks into the air. “—so you get me all to yourselves…” He winks. Your heart flips. “Okay! So let’s jump right in—” He makes a face. Cocks an eyebrow. “Jump? Dive? Feels like I need something better than “let’s get started”—” More air quotes. “That just sounds lame.” He sighs and rolls his eyes.

“Your voice makes anything sound good,” you murmur to the screen. He sits in silence for a minute, chewing on his bottom lip, looking lost. The urge to reach out and touch him comes back, even stronger than before. And then the vulnerability is gone, replaced by the cocky, carefully-crafted mask of charisma and confidence that everyone else assumes is normal. “Okay! So let’s break down these new guns! First up, we have…”

Pause. Rewind. Click, click, click. >SAVE Play.

The rest of the video goes more smoothly, as do the next three. Not much to cut, even less to keep for yourself. You continue to fight back the disappointment. Two left. Just two more and you can distract yourself for (hopefully) the rest of the day—

The fifth video catches you off guard. It’s...not a gun haul. It’s not set up in a studio. It’s dark, but there’s enough ambient light to make out shapes. It looks like it’s been filmed from a personal recorder and…

Troy’s face slides into the frame and he’s grinning, looking happier—and more devious—than you’ve ever seen. “Ty’s asleep…” It pans away, toward a vague shape across the dark room, before flipping back to Troy. You realize he’s the one filming it. “...and, uh...the new skag puppies are harmless right now, so…thought I’d play a little prank on her…” He creeps closer, quieter than you would’ve assumed, keeping the camera trained on the bed where Tyreen’s sleeping, clinging to a pillow and… You adjust the volume. ...yeah, she’s definitely snoring.

An odd feeling washes over you. For the first time, you feel as though you’re intruding into something you shouldn’t be seeing. The twins, your gods, are so...human. Granted, you’re smarter and saner than the majority of your peers—you know about sirens and relics and everything that could feasibly give them the illusion of divinity, but this still feels nigh-sacrilegious. He couldn’t have meant to send this…could he? You watch it anyway.

He holds up some sort of treat, then makes a show of placing it on the bed. After a few minutes, both the bed and Tyreen are practically covered and he’s retreating to the doorway, stifling involuntary laughter behind his free hand. You find yourself smiling along with him. “...gonna go release the hounds,” he announces as soon as he’s a safe distance down the hall, although the giggle that follows completely negates any sense of drama. Your stomach curls around itself in a funny twist.

The camera shakes horribly as he jogs across the compound, but you’re glad you don’t speed through it. “Goin’ to see the babies,” he sing-songs to himself once the skag pens start to come into focus. You swear your heart almost explodes. How the fuck is he...like this? Does anyone else see this, aside from Tyreen? Do they know their god is so...sweet?

He whistles as he approaches. The reaction is immediate. A litter of skag pups bowls out of the nearest den, tripping over each other and their own legs, yipping and growling. The camera dips—you assume Troy's kneeling. “Hey, killers...heh, yeah, hey…” He's laughing, scratching at their heads, letting them snap at his fingers. “Oh! You’re gettin’ big, Pepper. Yeah, not really the baby anymore, huh? Wanna go play with Ty? Yeah?” There’s a lower growl, somewhere offscreen. “Easy, big girl… I promise I’ll bring ‘em back.” With that reassurance, he opens the gate.

The remaining three minutes of footage go exactly as expected, in a flurry of hungry skag pups, laughter, cursing, and a few death threats from Tyreen. You watch, awestruck. They’re so playful, so normal. Again, so human. Innocent, almost. The video ends with a mad scramble for the recorder, from which Tyreen emerges victorious. The screen zaps to black, cutting her stream of half-sincere verbal abuse off mid-sentence.

You stare at the replay symbol, vaguely aware of your reflection in the monitor. They wouldn’t know if you kept a copy...would they? Click. Click. Click-click. You name the duplicate something inconspicuous. Not that they’ll go looking for it. ...but just in case.

Steeling yourself, though you’re not sure exactly what for, you click on the last video. The name doesn’t give anything away, none of them do—they’re all titled by filming date—and you can’t make anything out from the thumbnail, but you’re expecting another haul. Surely the personal recording was included by mistake— ...it’s some sort of reaction video. Troy’s own computer screen is the focus. His webcam feed is in the upper right corner.

“Probably gonna regret this…” he mutters. “But what the hell. Okay! The “horny for Troy” chat is officially open!” You pause. Rewind. No...you'd definitely heard him right the first time. “I want you to know you're all sluts.” He shoots a saccharine grin at his webcam. You feel the faintest twinge of guilt. “First question, here we go. ‘Starting with the obvious’—ooh, watch that confidence, fucker—’dom or sub?’ Okay, listen—” The smirk on his lips betrays his dramatic sigh. “These collars?” He yanks on the metal loop with one finger. “Not just for the aesthetic. But truthfully, I can do both. Next question.”

You fidget, acutely aware of how hot everything feels. Your head. Your hands. Your thighs. It's as if half the blood in your body rushed north and the other half rushed south. It's fluid, fiery, desperate. You toss your headphones onto the desk. Push your chair back. Rake your fingers through your hair.

You imagine they're his. Gripping your head as he kisses you, forcing his tongue between your lips, claiming you, marking you. You're mine, he'd growl. The words would rattle through your ribs, filling you up, making you believe them. And in that moment, they’d be true. Just you. Just him—

NO. You have to control yourself. It's not professional, it's not right. Whether or not he meant to send this doesn't matter. It doesn’t justify…

You glance back at the screen. You wish you hadn’t, because your fleeting fit of common sense dissipates as soon as you see the blush on Troy’s face. It’s deep red, beautiful against his skin, splashed across his cheeks and the bridge of his nose. He’s laughing about something, reaching back to rub at his neck, looking down, long eyelashes fluttering almost shyly—

CLICK. That’s all it takes. A single, swift, definitive motion. The window closes. Your flustered reflection stares back at you. Your heavy pulse taunts you. Your arousal mocks you.

You ignore all of it. With more self-control than you've been able to manage recently, you load the edited videos onto a new drive. You'll deliver them yourself. Maybe that will keep the fantasies at bay for a while. Maybe.

- - - - - - - - - -

You find him in the antechamber of the throne room. Not the most private place, but maybe that's for the best. It was always funny to you, how your reactions mellowed when you were actually, physically close to him. It was a blessing, you supposed. You doubted you'd have a job if you turned into an incoherent, fumbling mess whenever you looked at him.

“You could have just sent them back,” he mutters, plucking the microdrives from your hands. “But whatever. Thanks.”

You nod, though he probably misses it as he turns to look back through the door to the throne room. Tyreen is readying for a hearing. You chew your lip, unsure how to broach the subject really on your mind. To hell with it. “Did you mean to send—?”

“Shit.” His focus returns to you. “You got more than the gun hauls, huh?”

“...yeah. I didn't do anything to them.” It isn't a lie. The original videos are still intact.

“But...you watched them?” One eyebrow quirks. He doesn't seem angry.

You nod. And take a risk. “They were kind of endearing.” You keep your completely unprofessional reactions to yourself.

He huffs a soft laugh. “Don’t hear that a lot.”

“Troy!” Tyreen’s voice barks from the throne room. It cuts into the air between the two of you. “C’mon!”

He rolls his eyes and pockets the microdrives. “Thanks again. Wish I could stick around to hear more of your compliments, but…” He jerks a thumb over his shoulder. “Godhood calls.”

His bootsteps fade, leaving you alone with your racing thoughts and deceptively-calm heartbeat.

- - - - - - - - - -

The rest of the day is uneventful, you busy yourself with software updates and routine server maintenance. It’s easy, menial work, but it’s enough to keep your thoughts from wandering too far in any direction. Maybe you’d been right, maybe seeing Troy in person had been enough to take the edge off—

Your ECHO pings again and you nearly jump out of your skin. Meet me in Studio B. Troy. You read it again. And again. And once more to be sure. And then you obey.

Your heartbeat isn’t so calm this time. What does he want? Had you made a mistake? Said something wrong?

The studio is dim when you arrive, just a few low lights flicked on behind the booth. Troy’s waiting, his feet kicked up on the mixing desk, fiddling with his ECHO. The door creaks as you enter. You cringe.

“That was fast.”

“An order’s an order.”

He watches you for a long moment, then hums. “I’m not blind, you know.”

“I—” What? You know that, what is he—?

“Or stupid.” He stands, faster and more fluidly than you’re anticipating. In a second, he’s right in front of you. “I know exactly how you feel when you’re around me.” His voice has dropped to a whisper and your stubborn, stupid, misbehaving heart— “I hear the way your pulse skyrockets when you think about what you want me to do to you.”

You blink. Swallow. Is this actually happening? Warm, human fingers press under your chin, tilting your head, forcing you to look at him. There’s mischief dancing behind his pale eyes.

“Stop trying to hide it.”

“I—is that an order?”

His razor-sharp grin is enough of an answer. And then it happens. Those coy lips are pressed to yours. That hot, pink tongue that had invaded so many of your wet dreams is now invading your mouth. He’s gripping the back of your neck. Tugging at your hair. Moaning and growling and laughing—and the sounds are bouncing around your ribcage.

The surrealism of it all flips an interesting switch in your mind. In all your daydreams, every fantasy, you’d assumed you’d be paralyzed with shock in a situation like this. Frozen in awe and disbelief. Pliable and soft in his hands. Instead? You go wild.

All your actions blur into a haze of sensations. His teeth on your neck, biting deep, drawing blood. Your hands running over the sleek lines of muscle that define his body. The jagged tearing of cloth as something is ripped off. His knee between your legs. The world spinning as you’re lifted and pushed onto your back. You hardly notice the jabs of the knobs and switches on the instrument panel beneath you—your legs are wrapped around his hips and you’re clinging to him with all the strength you can muster.

Frantic, desperate fingers tug at your belt, slide inside you, curl forward. Stars bloom behind your eyes. You moan. He growls. Panted, breathless exclamations ricochet between you. Names are chanted, recited like prayers.

You’re wide open and ready for him by the time he thrusts up into you. Quick, needy. You move with him effortlessly, rocking up to meet his hips, digging your fingers into his back. All you can do is feel. Feel his body, feel his lips, feel his breath whispering over your neck as he leans down, pushing deeper. And finally—

It breaks. Tension releases. Heavy breaths mingle with sighs and feather-soft kisses. Bliss.

- - - - - - - - - -

You wake up groggy. Sore. Not naked, but you may as well have been because you know this feeling. You’d definitely had a good, thorough fucking. There isn’t enough fog in your brain to make you forget who’d done it, either. He knew how you felt and he’d… God damn, had he done something about it. You swear you can still feel the echoes of your orgasm throbbing between your legs and you wonder how long ago—

A brisk knock at the door nearly kills the mood. You scramble from your bed, praying that none of the...evidence...of your rendezvous would be apparent to whoever— It’s Troy. Heat blossoms in your face.

There’s a lazy, satisfied smirk on his lips. “Sleep okay?”

Fuck it. “Would’ve been better with you.” You don’t even attempt to maintain a normal pulse rate anymore.

His eyebrows arch. His smirk grows wider, showing teeth. The faintest hint of crimson colors his cheekbones. “Is that an invitation?”

You shrug. Keep cool! “If you want.”

He nods. Bites his lip. “I’ll, uh...keep that in mind. But, here, in the meantime…” He pulls a microdrive from his pocket and holds it out to you. “It’s not work, it’s…you’ll see.”

You take it, letting your fingers brush his palm. You don’t miss the way his blush spreads. Still so goddamn cute.

“I’ve gotta go, but...watch that tonight. Tell me what you think.”

“An order?”

He winks.

- - - - - - - - - -

You settle into your chair and load the microdrive. One file. Click-click.

You recognize the setup immediately. It’s Studio B. And there’s Troy. You’re fully expecting what comes next, but you still groan when you hear the door creak open and you step into view of the camera. Of course he’d filmed it. You’re not surprised in the least.

It’s...comforting, though, how you can allow yourself to watch this without trying to school your emotions. He’d made this for you. He’d given you what you wanted. He knew. You don’t stop—you don’t have to stop—yourself from curling up in your chair, biting your knuckles, blushing, and… ...yes, you’ll admit it—touching yourself while you watch.

The two of you look good from this angle. You don’t remember pushing his coat off, but there it goes, crumpling to the floor, revealing his bare back as he lifts you onto the table. From here, you can see his cybernetic spinal support, glowing with dim red light when he dips down to grind against you. You want to touch it. You’re surprised you didn’t. Maybe next time...

For once, the fantasy of there even being a “next time” fills you with warm hope. Unless you’ve been reading him wrong, he seems...interested. It makes you giddy. It makes you feel as though all of your initial reactions are justified. Now that you know he’s reciprocating.

You feel like you’re dreaming, watching all of this play out on the screen. Those are your hands scratching red lines down his shoulder blades. Your limbs tangled with his, wrapped around him. Your body moving perfectly, fluidly, rhythmically beneath his. Your voice panting out his name like an absolution.

And his voice doing the same with yours.

You stay there, curled in your chair, one hand trailing idly over your thighs, long after the last of your cries have faded. After he cradled you to his chest and helped you back to your feet. After the video ended.

It’s all real, you know that, but it feels like it shouldn’t be. He hadn’t even really known who you were until yesterday. Had he? You guess it doesn’t really matter. You’re both getting what you want, but… ...deep down, you’re hoping it’s not that shallow.

- - - - - - - - - -

He finds you in the morning. You’re back in the server room, allowing your thoughts to sort themselves out. At least… ...that was the plan. Until you hear his voice.

“So...what’d ya think?”

You don’t look at him at first. Your hands work with swift, practiced motions, tying a bundle of wires together. You’re not ashamed of the way your heart skips anymore, but what are you supposed to say to something like that? “Kinky,” you manage to joke.

He sighs, but there’s a hint of a laugh at the end of it. “And here I was expecting some quality constructive criticism.”

“I thought you said it wasn’t work.”

“You know what I mean.”

You watch him out of the corner of your eye. There’s nothing to lean on; his hands are fiddling awkwardly. He’s shifting his weight from one leg to the other. He seems expectant.

You finally look up, meeting his eyes. Your heart is racing, as usual. Not with anxiety or anticipation. With newfound hope. With affection. A smirk tugs at your lips. “Maybe a better angle next time? Not that the one you chose was bad…”

And then he does it. He ducks his head, laughing, exactly the same way he’d done in countless videos, in hundreds of cut and saved clips. That same scarlet blush adorns his cheekbones and the bridge of his nose. And you fall in love all over again.

- - - - - - - - - - @corpseyb0nes @afterthedreamer @mischiefsilvertongue @marigold-magpie @tricerathotss @vanderlinde-exe @ayilachan @zipp0flare @luxury-of-insanity @nikyri-reaper @argentineanweaboo @vanillabuttercreamm @anni000001 @imchaoticnerd 

[imagineredwood]

***Damn near 4 AM over here but it’s up 😂***

Warnings: None

Pairing: Camila x EZ

Word count: 3.7K

Camila huffed and ran the back of her hand over her forehead, brushing away the hair and sweat that was there, a slight ache in her lower back as she stood. She smiled proudly down at her garden, dirty hands resting by her side. Chucks of soil tumbled off her fingers as she continued to look over the garden, everything now finally planted and situated after three days. She wasn’t nearly done with her garden, still so much to be grown, but planting the seeds and small trees of what she ate were her main goal. The size of the backyard had spoken to her as soon as she had seen it and immediately, she’d wanted to get started as soon as possible with growing her own produce. As a child, her Abuela always grown her own vegetables and fruits amongst other plants, and Camila had always been right there alongside her, helping her with the process. Sure, it was bonding time between the two of them, but to Camila, it was much more than that. Gardening with Abuela Magdalena taught her patience, taught her how showering something in love could make it grow and bloom, just like people. Her Abuela had always said that love, dedication, and support could heal even the most withered flower and while it took a little more work, it could do the same for a human. 

That was where Camila’s loving nature came from. She treated everyone she met with the same gentleness and warmth as she had treated the sunflowers in her Abuela’s garden. She could be a little rough around the edges sometimes, with an over forgiving attitude that had led to her kindness being taken advantage of more times than she would like to count, and a rage that exploded when she’d finally had enough. She was complicated and layered, much like the onions she used to fish out of the damp soil but she tried her best to be the best that she could be and sitting in a garden with the fresh scent of rosemary and rainwater always helped her reflect so she could do that. 

Dusting her hands off and giving herself a nod of approval, she ran a dirt-covered finger over the smooth green skin of the tiny tomato on the tree she had just planted and made her way back inside of the house for a shower before heading into town. 

“There isn’t all that much experience needed, we just like people who are friendly, knowledgeable about different genres especially the newer ones. It’s not a library, though we do try to provide some similar services when needed. An old man like me isn’t very computer or tech savvy so it’s good to have young folks like yourself here who can help them out. Plus, you say you enjoy kids. You meet all of those so it seems to me that you’ll be a great fit.” 

Camila smiled as the older gentleman spoke, walking with her slowly through the bookstore, after having gotten the story and history of her new workplace. It had started as your everyday run of the mill bookstore way back when Mr. Salvatore had first moved into town. It was the only bookstore in town until everything started expanding. Lately, they had started to see their patrons dwindling and Mr. Salvatore’s daughter Sandra had come up with the idea to buy the unit next to the bookstore and expand as well, adding a café and more technology into the mix. She was a tall, box blonde in her thirties with a bright and warm aura and an eye for decor. She’d said they needed to take a more modern approach, Mr. Salvatore had agreed and business had been booming ever since, now needing to hire some more employees to keep up with the demand. Camila had seen the ad for hiring in the local newspaper and decided to give it a shot. She loved to read, a good couple of boxes full to the brim with books back in the home that she had yet to buy a shelf for. The job seemed like the perfect one for her and so she’d figured she would try her luck.

Coming to stand back at the check-in and cash register desk at the front, he hobbled over behind the counter and tucked his thumbs into his worn leather suspenders, smiling as he looked at her.

“So, when can you start?” 

Camila laughed softly and shrugged. 

“Whenever you need me to, really. It’s not like I have any plans. I’d like to get back to work. I can start tomorrow if you’d like.”

At that, the man smiled again, holding his right hand out for her to shake. 

“Well then young lady, I guess I’ll be seeing you tomorrow.” 

Camila took his wrinkled hand in her own and shook it gently once before he placed his other atop hers, holding them in his. 

“It’ll be good to have a new, nice face around here.”  

Turning, he reached over and picked up a small white binder that all the new employees got with a list of what aisles held what genres, a current calendar with the next three months of events and other tips to make memorization of the bookstore easier. She took the binder from his hands, looking through it quickly before tossing him one last smile. 

“Thank you, Mr. Salvatore. I’ll meet you and Sandra here tomorrow.”

Camila hummed to herself quietly as she pulled the new books from the cardboard box and stocked them up along the cherry stained wooden shelf. Though it wasn’t overwhelmingly exciting, it was one of the most relaxing jobs she’d ever had. She’d been able to memorize most of the cheat sheet that Mr. Salvatore had given her which made things much easier when it came to both stocking and helping any customers. The environment was quiet, cozy and laid back, not to mention the place smelled of fresh baked pastries and coffee from the café that was in the front of the store. As if that wasn’t enough, Mr. Salvatore had it that all employees could have coffee and a pastry for free on their breaks and could take home from the bunch that were left over and to be thrown away at the end of the day. Both he and his daughter had been nothing but the sweetest to her and after speaking to the other employees over lunch, she found that being nice was just a part of who they were. Every employee, no matter if they’d worked there for 1 week or 5 years, could vouch for the father-daughter duo and how they were the best employers anyone could wish for. 

Camila finished stocking the new books on the ‘New Releases’ self and was in the process of pulling apart the empty box when Sandra walked up, smile as bright as ever. 

“Hey, honey. Can you do me a favor?”

Camila nodded and Sandra pulled out a folded paper from the pocket of her jeans. 

“Can you pick these books out for me when you get a chance? It doesn’t have to be now but have them done by closing time, please. Dad usually does this but he forgot today was Tuesday and he made an appointment with his cardiologist so we have to get that done. Just put the books together in a bag leave them on the shelf behind the front desk. Someone named Ezekiel will be by to pick them up later on. Don’t charge him. We have a little thing going where he just kinda rents them and brings them back when he’s done.”

Camila acknowledged her and held the list in her hand, unfolding it to look it over. 

“I just finished stocking the last of the new releases so I can do it now, make sure I don’t forget.” 

Sandra smiled and reached over to place a hand on Camila’s shoulder, giving it a soft squeeze. 

“Thank you so much, sweetheart. I’m glad you’ve joined us here. I’ve already had 3 customers tell us how helpful you’ve been. Keep up the good work kiddo.”

To Sandra, it might’ve just been her everyday employee encouragement, but Camila couldn’t help but blush and beam at the woman’s words, always having been a sucker for praise. It made her ears get hot and instilled a burst of energy as it always did and she nodded quickly. 

“Thank you, Sandra. I’ll get it done right now.” “No problem. We’ll see you tomorrow.” 

Camila continued to look over the list as they went separate ways, seeing that all the books were in a variety of genres. There were books of poetry and fiction, Sci-Fi and nature, horror and spirituality. There was a mix and Camila couldn’t help but wonder who would be picking them up. She tried to picture them in her head as she went around and pulled the books. Her imagination is what had drawn her to reading as a child in the first place and by the time she had collected the books from the list, she hadn’t been able to conjure up what she expected the person would look like. It was hard to get a feel with how sporadic the books were and how none of them seemed to have anything in common or similar to the next one. 

Soon enough, she’d collected all of the books and had bagged them up, taking them up the front where Sandra had told her. She went back to the main center of the bookstore and looked around, everything seeming to have emptied out by now. She had volunteered to close up and was consequently that last employee in the store apart from the two baristas that were wiping down the espresso machines. There was one patron left in the café, a high school student no more than 16 that had been there since earlier this afternoon. He wore a grey hoodie and bags under his eyes, his hair messy and greasy and she could tell he was exhausted as his eyes continued to gaze at the laptop screen in front of him. She walked over and placed her hand down onto the tabletop, rapping her nails against it softly, getting his attention. He looked up at her and she smiled softly, pointing over at the clock. 

“It’s getting close to closing time. Just wanted to let you know so you have time to save everything and get packed up. Do you need help with anything?” 

The kid cursed quietly and shook his head in frustration. 

“Shit, sorry. I lost track of time. I’m just trying to get this presentation done for school and my brain is fried. I can’t come up with anything else and I still have 6 slides left.” 

Camila took a seat next to the kid and pointed at his screen. 

“Do you mind?” “Nah, go ahead.”

He turned the screen towards her and she looked over the PowerPoint, a slight grin coming to her face as she saw what the topic was. 

“Ya know, I may or may not have done a project myself on the Collapse of the Roman Empire when I was in high school. When is this due?”

“Two days from now. I put it off and it snuck up on me. That’s why I skipped school today. Don’t tell anyone please!” 

Camila laughed as his voice took a worried edge at the end after he had outed himself. She was about to respond when the bell dinged as the door opened. She looked over as a man walked in and went straight to the front desk, waiting patiently. She couldn’t see his face but what she could see was the leather and the patch he wore. No one had mentioned that there was an MC in town. Pointing down at the table, she turned back to the kid and leaned in. 

“I’ll tell you what. I think I still have that paper saved somewhere on my computer. I’ll bring it with me tomorrow and I’ll help you out to finish those last couple of slides. After school! Don’t skip.” 

The boy’s eyes widened some before a grin slowly made its way onto his face, nodding feverishly. 

“OK! I won’t skip, I promise. I’ll be here after school at 2.”

Camila nodded herself and pushed his backpack towards him before standing. 

“Go home. And get some good sleep.” 

She turned back towards the front desk and set into a brisk walk, not wanting to make the man wait any longer. As she came around, he locked eyes with her and gave a warm smile. Reciprocating, she faced him, hands planted flat on the countertop. 

“Hi. You must be Ezekiel?” “Yeah, that’s me.” 

Camila turned and grabbed the bag off of the shelf, holding it out for him. 

“Here you go. Everything’s in there for you.” “Thank you. Is everything ok with Mr. Salvatore?” 

Camila nodded, seeing the concern in his eyes.

“Yeah, he’s ok. He just had a doctor’s appointment. Sandra said he forgot it was Tuesday otherwise he would’ve been here to see you.” 

Ezekiel smiled softly and looked down into the bag before looking back up into her eyes.

“Yeah, I like to read but I don’t really have room to keep a bunch of books so I just rent them from him and give them back.”

“Yeah, Sandra was telling me.” 

There was a moment of silence as they looked at each other. Just as Ezekiel opened his mouth to speak again, the student from earlier came up to the counter, butting in. 

“Hey, thanks again. I really appreciate it.” “Oh, you’re welcome…” “Ethan.” “Ethan. I’m Camila. I’ll see you tomorrow. Make sure you bring all your stuff and we’ll get that project finished up ok?”

The kid smiled and nodded as he situated his backpack on his shoulder. 

“Yes, ma’am.” 

He waved as he left and she returned it, EZ smiling to himself at the interaction as he looked back at her.

“Are you a teacher?”

Camila shook her head with a smile, watching out the window as the kid got onto his bike.  

“No, just helping out. I like kids, even the older ones. He’s got a project due and he’s having trouble wrapping it up.” 

Ezekiel nodded once more, smiling at her as he did. 

“Yeah, I remember those days. Good old procrastination.”

The two of them shared a laugh and were once again surrounded by silence. Their smiles slowly faded from their faces and yet they still stayed looking at each other for a second more before they quickly looked away, EZ looking down at his books and Camila suddenly finding the glitter in her nail polish to be very interesting. It was awkward and they both began to talk at the exact same time to break the silence. 

“Well, it was nice meeting you.” “Nice to meet you.” 

EZ shook his head as she threw hers back, both of their laughs filling the emptiness of the bookstore. Camila spoke alone this time.

“Sorry for being kinda awkward. I just moved here and it’s a lot of new people and places and new everything. Just trying to get my footing.” 

EZ nodded in agreement with her statement but also to himself. Though he wasn’t new in town, he was getting back into the swing of things after having been locked up. He was also meeting new people and seeing new places, trying to get his footing himself. A lot had changed since he’d gone to jail and he could understand where she was coming from, though he wasn’t exactly ready to admit all of that to her. She was sweet, both carefree and awkward at the same time, and he thought she was beautiful. After being inside, he was willing to admit that he was off his game and more than a little rusty when it came to women. He was sure if Angel could see him, he’d be laughing his ass off at his little brother. With everything going on in his life at the moment, finding a girl and getting into a relationship was the last thing on his mind. He couldn’t deny the attraction he felt towards her, both physically and personally but the fewer people he brought into the mess that he had created with the DEA and the club, the better. 

Slapping his hand onto the counter softly, he pulled away shooting her another smile as he headed towards the door. 

“Well, I’ll see you around Camila. Thanks for the books.” 

With a grin and a wave, she said goodbye and watched as he walked out, putting away his bag before climbing onto his bike. She winced slightly as he started it up and the rumble engulfed the street. She looked back around the shop, the baristas having already gone home and everything situated, ready for her to lock up. She went to the front door and locked it, turning over the closed sign before heading to the back, into the breakroom to grab her things. Purse in hand, she walked to the rear of the store, going out the back door and locking that one up too. Looking down at her watch, she read the time. It was only four thirty and Felipe’s shop didn’t close until five. She’d promised that she wouldn’t make a habit of being late and she was a woman of her word. 

Unlocking her car, she climbed in and pulled out her card before tossing her purse into the passenger seat and starting up the car. She pulled out of the back lot and went around the complex, driving down the main street and parking further up the block where the carniceria was. She walked up to the door and pushed it open, smiling as she saw Felipe standing behind the counter. Walking in further and turning, she found Ezekiel sitting on one of the chairs also looking over at her.  The two of them looked at each other for a good couple of seconds, not really knowing what to say. Camila settled for trying to make a joke. 

“I swear I’m not stalking you.” 

EZ chuckled as Felipe looked between them. 

“You two know each other?”

They both shook their heads at the same time, EZ stepping in to explain.

“She just started working at the Salvatore bookstore. I bumped into her earlier. I was there to pick up some books.”

Felipe closed his eyes and nodded once in understanding before looking back at Camila with a smile which she returned as she walked up to the counter. 

“Hola Señor.” “Hola nena.” “I need 6 chicken breasts por favor.”

Felipe began to pull her meats out and continued to speak to her as EZ watched. 

“So, you’re working at the bookstore?”

“Yeah. I started today. It’s not bad. I like it. Plus it's close, good hours.” “Are you all moved in?” “Gracias a Dios, yes. I still have a couple of small boxes left to unpack but they’re full of little stuff. The house itself is all done though.” 

Now it was EZ’s turn to repeat Felipe’s question from earlier.

“Do you two know each other?” 

Camila turned to face EZ as Felipe continued to pack up her chicken, a small smile on her face. 

“Not really. I mean we’ve met before. I came here a couple of days ago to buy some meat and we started talking then.”

Camila trailed off before pointing between EZ and Felipe. 

“So, I guess it’s my turn to ask. Do you two know each other?” 

Both men shared a laugh and Camila furrowed her brows slightly, not really understanding what was so funny. 

“Yeah, you could say that.”

She looked over at Felipe and he pulled off his gloves, turning around to grab a framed picture off of the wall behind him and hand it over to her. Her eyes looked over the sweet little boy in the picture, the smile still identical, and she turned to look at EZ, who sat with one leg crossed over the other, a proud look on his face as he spoke.

“That’s my pops.” 

Camila looked back and forth between the two of them, searching their faces in awe of how she hadn’t realized before. 

“Well shit.”  

The three of them shared a laugh and she handed the photo back to Felipe, EZ coming to stand as Felipe put it back and finished packaging her chicken. He placed the bag on top of the counter and gave her the total. Felipe observed quietly as his son eyed the girl as she paid. His eyes broke away from her for a moment and then caught those of his fathers, watching him watch her. Even a grown man now, he still blushed and looked down bashfully as his father rolled his eyes but still smiled. The machine printed out her receipt and she grabbed it along with her bag, looking back up at Felipe. 

“Thank you Señor.” “You can call me Felipe.” 

Camila nodded as she turned and began heading towards the door. 

“Gracias Felipe.” 

She turned her head slightly and looked at EZ, waving with her empty hand. 

“Bye Ezekiel.” “Bye.” 

Camila walked out of the store and made her way to her car, both Reyes men watching her as she did. EZ looked back over as Felipe began disinfecting the counters and scale, walking up to the counter. 

“That’s the girl you were talking about?”

Felipe nodded, tossing the wipes into the trash as he walked out from behind the counter and towards EZ, who was still looking out the window at Camila. He returned his gaze to his father with a lazy smile as he felt his dad grab his shoulder. He expected him to tease him, poke fun at how engrossed in her he was. His smile quickly faltered though as he saw the look his father wore. 

“What’s up, pop?” 

The older man sighed deeply, tossing his head towards the back room. 

“Lock up the front and flip the sign. We gotta talk about KJ.”

[moonlightreal]

Winx Club season 8/1

In which the Winx are back and younger than ever.

Welcome to season 8!  I love this show, I love everything about it... including the parts I don't like, because I can snark at them.  So warning: there will be some snark when I see something dumb.

About the new art style:

Why I don't like it:  The girls have gotten a little more samey-samey with the loss of their individually shaped features, and Tecna's eyes shifted from turquoise to blue.  I know that's a tiny thing, a slight eye color change but it's one more step towards them all looking the same.  It feels like by the time we get to season 20 they'll be six identical fairies!  Also the girls now look twelve.  There’s been no mention so far of them de-aging so it's just the art style change, but... ok most of y'all wouldn't care but I'm writing a fanfic that parallels the show and now I have to decide whether to de-age my characters or what!

Why I like it: They're sooooo cute! They look like Moondreamers or Lady Lovelylocks or some 80s dolls!  I love it!

I have a theory about why the style change.  This is only a guess since I don't know animation, but is it possible they're using a program with sort of mannequins, and they're now using the same bodies for both Regal Academy and Winx?  To save money maybe, since now the animators will only need to learn one style?  Is that even the way computer animation programs work? Animators, help me out here!

And yes, Musa and Flora are now basically Caucasian looking.  This is not cool.  I have acknowledged it and written to Rainbow about it but since there’s nothing else I can do I’m going to enjoy my show in spite of it.  That’s my response to the color change; your response is something you’ll have to decide for yourself.

1 Night of Shooting Stars

We open at Alfea where some minor fairies are watching shooting stars.  Familiar minor fairies!  It's not just the Winx who have a new look; the whole class has been ported over.  I'm really happy about this!  I was sure they'd just do a whole new background cast and we'd lose more continuity, but here are Evie and Lori, those two dark skinned and indigo haired girls, and other familiar faces.

The Winx are up on a sort of bridge over the courtyard-- Alfea has had slight upgrades for the new season and it looks great.  And so do the girls!  They're so detailed, the layered outfits and all their accessories are so fun.  Their necklaces sway when they move, even, props to the animators.

Bloom is delighted by the shooting stars but Musa’s not feellin’ it, she was hoping for musical inspiration but it isn’t coming.  Flora, Tec and Aisha join them and it turns out Musa wants to write the new song for the concert tomorrow!  Tecna conjures her “astroscope” so they can watch the stars, and starts to explain something but Aisha shuts her down. Kiko pops up on the other end of the astroscope and scares Musa when she looks through.  

Out comes Stella, for a selfie!

In the Italian, Stella says “Selfie time!” in English.  Heh.

But Musas’s glum face spoils the selfie.  Stella says there should be no problem since, “You have ME to inspire you!”

Kind of not a great intro for the girls, but now we leave them and cut to Twinkle being chased by star-eaters.  Which are cool, as villain minions go.  They look like dark purple puffs or blobs, I’m getting a very Original My Little Pony vibe from them.  A whole swarm of them are chasing tiny Twinkle through the rings surrounding planet Magix.  They merge into a giant blob that roars as Twinkle flees towards the planet below.

Musa’s spidey sense tingles!

The star-eaters display their power of splitting into tadpoles and joining together again.

The Winx are concerned: this star is coming down awfully close!  Twinkle zooms above their heads and crashes in the woods.

The girls arrive in the scene we saw in the trailer and are immediately charmed by the sleeping Twinkle. Stella identifies her as a Lumen, “a creature of pure light that lives inside stars.”  They take their find back to Alfea to take care of her.

But evil is watching them!  Or at least a turban-wearing lackey of evil with a bunch of star-eaters around him is.  Obscura says, “Oh no!  That Lumen managed to reach the Winx!” so he knows who the Winx are.

In the Winx common room Twinkle is still asleep and the girls and Faragonda admire her cuteness.  I think she’s got some kind of charm ability!    Stella gives us some more information, “She’s from Lumenia, the star that lights Solaria.”  and Faragonda says Lumens never leave their stars except for serious reasons.

The next morning—daylight shots of Alfea, great cg—Twinkle wakes up, gets scared of Kiko, there’s some chaos and room destruction, Twinkle flies around screaming until she bangs into Stella.  Stella introduces the Winx, “We’re fairies and this is our school.” and asks why Twinkle came.  But Twinkle can’t remember.

Tecna scans Twinkle and detects “a memory lapse.”  The Winx offer to help her remember but Aisha thinks scaring her is the way to go!  So they try to scare Twinkle, who just laughs.  Short slapstick scene.

Then Bloom gets a text: the boys are coming!  Their ship lands in the courtyard to a rockin’ beat.  The girls stand with little hearts around them, Stella twirling her hair.

The boys look so weird in this art style.  I will try and probably fail at not mentioning this every time they appear.

And oh heavens, Brandon still has a deep post-puberty voice in his 12-year-old body.  I think this may be the same voice actor from last season.  Voice weirdness aside, he brought Stella a big pile of presents.  These two are the best couple.

Helia is showing Flora a picture he did of “a rose from the planet Iris, but its beauty is nothing compared to yours.”  Wasn’t Iris where Diaspro’s from?  Flora blushes and it’s cute.

Sky and Bloom kind of twirl each other around and laugh, which is sweet.

Timmy and Tecna are already up in the dorm working on a Lumen amnesia curing device, which explodes. Twinkle bounces and chirps, “Again!  Again again!”  Ok she is a little bit adorable.

They get the memory viewer going and its screen shows Twinkle’s memories of being chased.  She freaks out and flies into the air glowing brightly.  Then the memory viewer overloads.

Cut to the courtyard, the girls ponder what they saw while Twinkle looks glum.  Kiko tries to cheer her up. Stella says that Lumens are peaceful creatures with no enemies, so the girls don’t know what was chasing her.  Poor Twinkle is very down, and Stella prescribes music to cheer her up.

Over at Red Fountain we’re in either the ship or a locker room.  The boys are tired out, they’ve been on a mission to the Omega dimension before the Winx called!  Points to the writers for remembering the names of places!  Also points for how the boys are powering-down their suits, it’s a neat little detail that they do this.

The boys talk about how they wish they could’ve helped the Lumen, then do some reminiscing!  They had a mission on the planet Hypsos where they beat a horde of space mutants and destroyed an opal dragon??  And apparently neither of these was as scary as the landing!  Timmy, who was the pilot, droops.  Then he blames Helia for not being able to read a star chart.  It looks like they’re about to fight when…

A Mysterious Figure arrives!  Wearing a kind of ship-captainish coat and purple neck scarf.  Codatorta said he could come back.  The boys are pleased, more pleased than most of the fandom is!

The mysterious figure is not Venomiya, so there should be no sabotage at the Winx Band concert we go to next. ��More great cg Alfea.  Is there an official map anywhere, of what rooms are what?  There are some weird outbuildings and stuff. I’m not even sure if the bridge is new or if it’s just that the girls didn’t hang out there in previous seasons.  And did the wings attach differently before?  I can’t tell if the school has changed shape or not!  I think it has...

And there’s a blast from the past, it’s Knut the ogre, Alfea’s handyman!  He’s back after many seasons, helping set up the lights for the concert with Kiko’s help.

And here’s Grizelda, and the new art style has not been kind to her!  She looks younger and has a more WoW art style look, and I don’t like it!  And whaaaaaat happened to her voice?  She does the ‘I’m watching you’ thing at Knut.  she’s not very nice.  I mean, she’s not supposed to be nice, she’s supposed to be a scary lady so that’s good.

The concert is being held at the top of the steps in front of the main door to the school.  All the minor fairies hang out on the steps or in the courtyard to watch.  It is so nice to see the same minor fairies as before.  They’re super excited to see the Winx in their—freaking adorable—concert outfits.  The girls are all in brightly colored fake fur and music note themes, with streaks in their hair.  Bloom dedicates their first song to ‘Our new friend from far away.’  and Twinkle giggles with delight.

And then… concert transformation! The girls’ PURSES do magical girl henshin routines and transform, Bloom’s into a microphone, Stella and Flora get guitars, Musa has a keytar and Tec gets a three-piece piano while Aisha’s got drums. Ok, I love this.  I know, it’s gotta be a gimic to sell toys, but sparkly henshin instruments, it’s wonderful!

The song’s all right, it’s Winx pop just like every song in Winx and I don’t think the voice actresses are in any way professional singers, but it’s fun.  Miss F, Grizelda and Palladium are in the audience.  Twinkle loves the music. Knut seems to be trying to pick up on the minor fairies, but Grizelda shuts him down.

Then the concert is rudely interrupted by a portal opening and delivering a bunch of star-eaters!  Twinkle sees them and remembers what happened to her and flies for help!

Stella observes the sun-eaters don’t look too scary, but then they all pile together into one big one.  Oh no!  The minor fairies, unable to fight since the artists haven’t designed transformations for them, back away in fear.

Faragonda and the teachers—Wizgiz appears too—direct the minor fairies to take cover inside.  The Winx transform.  Butterflix time!

Twinkle is impressed.

The girls fight but the giant eater can portal in and out and break apart whenever it wants.  Only Stella’s sun power seems to have any effect!  Then they get an idea: Twinkle lit up with the memory viewer, maybe she can help here!  Stella gives her some power and little Twinkle is just so happy!  She lights up like a sun and the big eater breaks apart into little eaters that all look despondent and flee back through their portal.

Since Twinkle has remembered everything, now she can tell her story!  The girls and Grizelda for some reason meet with the headmistress in her office.

Twinkle is the messenger of Lumenia, on a mission from Queen Doranna(?) to the “most powerful fairies in the magic dimension.”  The stars are in danger!  The eaters are eating their light!  I do like that there’s a reason the Winx are going to be called to save the world again, that Doranna specifically requested them.  

Then there’s… Faragonda tells them this is a delicate mission and to be cautious.  Stella breaks in with, “caution is our middle name!  well, more of a nickname.” Heh.

Then Bloom has an anime moment, she goes to the window and puts her hand up to her reflection, with a serious expression.  Not the kind of moment we usually get in Winx, and I really like it.  “Tomorrow we leave for Lumenia, Queen Doranna can help us understand what’s going on.  This is a mission for the Winx!”

[zippdementia]

Part 67 Alignment May Vary: Welcome to Hell

The players awaken and everything is messed up.

You all wake up to the sound of a repetitive blaring horn. Each of you is in a tube whose purpose is not immediately clear. Behind you is soft padding and in front of you is a see through cover made of some kind of hard glass. The world beyond this cover is darkness punctuated by frequent bursts of light that seem to come in time with the blaring horns. The light illuminates a large room.

It takes a moment for them to remember where they are. Once they do, they realize a very long time has passed and the spaceship is in trouble, about to crash land on a mysterious red planet and currently being bombarded by asteroids in an asteroid belt a computer tells them is “The River Styx.” Bob and Fiona are broken and rusted, and there’s no time to figure out what went wrong here. The players flee to the ship’s escape pods, only to have the hull of the ship breached and Aldric almost sucked out when he fails his saving throw. He makes it, but Blackrazor is ripped from his back and spins into space, lost.

All of you are tossed back and forth against the walls of the escape pod as it tumbles and twists and turns, spinning incessantly until you think your body will be crushed from the force of it. You can hear a roar and outside of the pod’s single window you can see heat and flame building up around the outside of your small circular craft. Then there is a mighty, sickening jolt and you are thrown one more time against the wall as everything finally goes still. The door to the pod slides open and a mechanical voice brokenly states “Thank you and have a safe journey” before an explosion of static cuts it short.

You emerge from the broken pod and clamber out onto red rock. The pod has come to rest on a high shelf overlooking a vast red landscape, a maze of dry canyons and valleys that stretches to the horizon. And on that horizon is a massive city scape, so large you cannot see where it ends. It literally encompasses the entire line of the horizon from left to right and though it is very far away, you can already see it is constructed of massive towering structures, like no city you’ve ever come across in your life or heard tell of before. A wind blasts across the landscape, stirring up red dust clouds and pulling at the fabric of your clothes.

At this point in the campaign, we are off book and running my own material. I’ve always wanted to do a planar adventure in Dungeons and Dragons. The possibilities such a campaign offers are exciting, though I have not found many official (or even unofficial) adventures set in the planes. And the ones I have always feel a little... I don’t know... standard. Like they just took the same kind of adventure you’d see in a normal campaign and themed it with different creatures.

For my planar campaign (which I am working on releasing on DMs Guild), I wanted something far more outside the box. Just as the characters are having the boundaries of their worlds stretched, I think the players need to have the boundaries of what they think of as a DND game stretched, too.

So the first thing I’ve changed is that these planes are literally planets, not planes. That lets me throw in a touch of sci fi for a nice spelljammer element. And the first of those planets to be explored is Planet Hell.

Encounter: The Hell’s Angels

The first big encounter here is against four biker devils, a Bone Devil (named Bones), a Bearded Devil (named Beards), a Barbed Devil (named... Cisco, which was supposed to be funny, but now I wish I’d just kept it Barbs, so let’s call him Barbs), and an Imp (Larry). These guys are straight out of Easy Rider, leather jackets and all, and they ride hovering jet bikes. The set up here is that they will attack the players and this will result in a jet bike chase through a maze like canyon full of dangers and driving challenges. While all this is going on, a meteor storm that hits Hell every day is about to start and the players will literally have to outrace the storm to make it to the safety of the world city of the Nine Circles (which is protected by a magic/science shield. Helping them in this endeavor is Alyss, a young blonde punk rocker looking chick who rides in on her own jetbike and warns the players that the biker gang is coming to investigate their crash site.

This encounter ends up being so much fun in so many ways.

First of all, the players don’t want to meet the biker’s head on. So Imoaza decides to use disguise self to look like a devil herself and pretend like she’s captured Carrick, who will then launch a surprise attack. She rolls a high success on her disguise and ends up looking like a classic red satan devil you’d get at a costume store, goatee and all. She also speaks Fiendish, as it happens, so she is able to really complete the disguise. It works and she doesn’t discard the disguise for the whole encounter. This ends up being absolutely ridiculous. Read on.

Beards tries to insult Carrick by peeing on him with a devil’s penis that looks like a living lobster and pisses acid and this is when Carrick launches his surprise attack, the other players joining him shortly.

Early on in the fight, Barbs and Bones escape, Bones dragging Imoaza’s red devil face along the ground until she is too dazed to fight him. He then blasts into the canyon, closely pursued by Alyss on her own personalized jet bike with Aldric riding shotgun and wielding a grenade launcher Alyss tosses him. Imoaza steals Larry’s tiny bike and rides after them, but for the life of her, she cannot roll well enough to figure out how to use the bike well. And while all this is going on, a meteor storm has begun to crash down around them. So what you end up getting is this ridiculous red satan devil (who is really Imoaza) cruising backwards on a hoverbike, screaming in terror as she races into the canyon just barely outrunning a meteor storm.

We honestly think this is the end of Imoaza. I’ve set up challenges the players must face to navigate the canyon and hers ends up being a leap over a wide chasm. With the way she’s been rolling... but then, against all odds, she rolls a critical success on this jump, and it looks a little like this...

The silence surrounding the chasm is broken suddenly by a shrill cry, like a plea for help, and rocketing into view comes a tiny hoverbike, clinged to by a tall red devil with a jet black goatee hanging beneath a mouth open in a wide scream. The Devil is ridiculously large a top the miniscule bike and Every part of his body that can grip something is gripping the bike: knees, buttucks, hands clenched on the seat of the motorcycle, his tall shape crouched low and terrified... and backwards... over the bike as it speeds its way without stopping towards the chasm. This is the end for the devil for sure. Except just before the bike takes its fatal dive, it hits a rock and is tilted upwards and suddenly the screaming devil man is flying, not falling, as the bike soars like an angel across the huge chasm, spinning around in the process, knocking the devil free from his perch, whereupon in his mad scrabbling he gets himself turned the right way around, grabs the handlebars and successfully lands on solid safe ground.

Then there’s Larry. Oh my god, Larry. I initially threw him in just so there would be an easily accessible bike for the players to use during the jet bike chase. But the minute I start voicing him and he keeps hilariously failing to injure Carrick while the Paladin (have I ever mentioned Carrick is a Paladin before?) fights Beards, using his fiery whip to smack away Beard’s attacks, Larry becomes a crowd favorite. Carrick especially loves him, finding the imp’s futile attempts to harm him more cute than anything else, to the degree that once Carrick defeats Beards, Larry takes a liking to him, calling him “Chuck” and determining they are going to be a new gang. He grabs Beard’s bike, tells Chuck to get on, and he rides him away from the Meteor Swarm, saying how cool it is that they’ve met and how they are going to be friends forever.

Well, by the time this happens, Aldric’s launching of grenades in the canyon has caused landslides and certain passages have been blocked off by piles of rock. Larry gets to one of these just in time to see Aldric and Alyss soaring over it in a marvelous display of driving skill and defying gravity, intent on continuing their chase of Bones and Barbs.

Larry looks at the rock wall and takes a deep breath. “Do you believe, Chuck?” He says in his small, hopeful, tremulous voice. Carrick slaps him on the shoulder. “I believe in you, buddy.” Larry then guns the bike, heading for the rock wall, about to perform the same stunt as Alyss. His eyes closed, his legs flailing out behind him (he’s too small for even his own bike), he drives a top speed for the wall.

And rolls a critical failure.

Carrick sees what is about to happen and does what any true friend would. He bails off the back of the bike, misty stepping off to witness Larry drive into the cliff wall, the bike upending itself to smash him into pulp against the rocks before exploding in a ball of fire.

And that’s the end of Larry, short lived favorite familiar.

The rest of the chase has too many crazy moments to list: Aldric finally catches up with Bones, jumping off his bike and impaling the devil, then stealing his leather jacket. Aldric and Alyss outrun a horrible cave monster a little bit like a gaping dragon from Dark Souls. Imoaza has to outrun the meteor storm on the way to the shielded city, and almost doesn’t make it. And Carrick finds Blackrazor in the desert.

This last moment is a defining one. Carrick initially is hesitant to retrieve the blade, knowing it is evil. But he also knows it may not be his call to make: this is Aldric’s burden to bear. The player is so torn, he literally has to toss a coin to figure out the answer. It tells him what to do... he picks up the sword, and Blackrazor is less than grateful, berating him for having let Aldric drop him in the first place. He does finally thank him and tells him that Carrick will play a nice role in his final plans, then makes a joke about eating the souls of children. This last one is too much for Carrick. Not sure whether Blackrazor is being crass or honest leads Carrick to realize he cannot trust the sword’s actual intentions. And in a moment of decision, he drops the sword back in the desert and rides away (he traded his exploded jet bike for a summoned horse... which here in Hell turns out to be a Nightmare). Blackrazor screams profanities at him as he goes, promising that one day he’ll cut off his head and drink his insides.

Eventually the party synch back up on the edge of the city, which this close up they see is actually just a ruined sprawl of ghettos. This is in fact an illusion, created by Alyss to protect them, but they won’t find that out for a while. For now, they wander the dead city with Alyss, who tells them to abandon the bikes except her own, which she hits a button on to cause it to shrink down to pocket size, and which she drops in her back pack. She explains a little about their situation while they walk.

Hell, it turns out, used to be involved in an eternal war with the Demons of the Abyss, in a conflict dubbed the Blood War that mostly took place in the River Styx, the asteroid field right outside of Hell. Some centuries ago, Asmodeus traveled to the Abyss himself at the head of a huge army to finally bring the fight back to the Demons. His plan was successful and he used a magic so powerful that the Abyss was sealed away into between reality, unable to manifest and interact with the real world. But Asmodeus himself did not survive the magic and Hell was left for the first time in its history without a leader.

With the war against the demons over, the devils turned on themselves, waging a war that began as a physical conflict but slowly became more political. Out of this war emerged the Nine Cities, a sprawling conglomerate of nine separate cities, all ruled by different Arch Devils. Hell also became a tense democracy, with the leader of Hell voted into office to serve a fifty year term. The current president is Mammon, devil of greed and pride, who rules from his vast casino-ridden city of Messmiter, the Golden City.

While different presidents have pushed different agendas and together have turned Hell into a technological leader in the universe, one thing they all agree on: Hell’s borders should remain closed, its warships destroyed and grounded. No one comes into Hell except in death. No one leaves Hell. Ever.

Alyss tells them that there are crystals here on Hell which call souls to them when those souls pass around the universe. It’s uncertain why a soul may be called by a crystal to end up reborn on Hell, but it is known that Devils used to be able to make this happen as a contract. Now with Devils forced to stay in Hell forever, the influx of new souls has slowed, leading to a lot of anger and unrest. Devils desire souls, they need them to grow in power. Without them, they feel starved and restless.

Also restless are the few unfortunates who end up being called to Hell. Not only are their souls almost always drained for a devil’s personal gain, but Hell used to operate on one basic principal: Hope. There was hope that with enough penance, one could leave for a better place. This actually used to be true. But no longer, not with the borders closed. So Alyss has joined a group known as the Hell’s Rebels, led by who she says is an incredible leader of men, a visionary. Their goal is to escape Hell.

This gives many reasons as to why the player’s presence is so disruptive and yet so important. One, they’ve broken the closed border rule, albeit unintentionally. Two, somewhere on Hell their working spaceship has landed, which could be the rebel’s ticket out of here. And three, they have fresh, living, souls. That makes them a target. And because Barbs escaped them in the canyon, she is sure word has reached Hell that they are here.

And with this set up, we enter my next planned scenario in Hell, hideout.

Rooftop Showdown

I want this part of the adventure to feel a little like Blade Runner, or Dark City. I am aiming for mystery and a touch of uncertainty and I want to create a daring escape.

So the set up becomes that Alyss brings them to a decrepit hotel room and leaves them, telling them she’ll be back in a few hours but under NO CIRCUMSTANCES are they to leave or open the door. They aren’t even to speak if someone calls to them. Alyss has her own way of getting back in. Don’t speak to anyone, she warns them again, before leaving. The players settle down for a much needed long rest, but when they finish it, Alyss hasn’t returned.

Three days pass. The players stay alive by Carrick casting “Create Food and Drink” and summoning a bunch of random Fiendish foods. They eat them all (except for a summoned plate of fried Bearded Devil Penis, which they leave in a corner of the room, where it begins to acquire a greasy acrid odor). Imoaza passes the time by reading various tomes she’s collected over the course of their adventures, especially the journals of her people taken from the Yuan Ti temple. Aldric digs through Alyss’ left behind backpack, eventually finding the shrunken motorcycle and blithely pocketing it for later study. He also finds an energy capsule which they use to recharge Carrick’s rifle. And he detoxes, not from drugs but from Blackrazor’s influence, slowly wresting his mind free from the blade’s evil influence, which he can still feel reaching for him and calling to him. Carrick finds a cellphone (of course, they don’t know this is what it is) and is able to pull out of his distant other-life memories that this is a communication device. He leaves it alone.

On the fourth day, a knock comes at the door. The players ignore it, and then Alyss’ voice calls to them, saying she lost the key and is being chased and needs to get inside. The group is nervous and anxious, not sure whether this is really her or not. As they hesitate, she becomes more desperate, saying that she will die if they don’t help her. They stay silent. Some time later, her voice returns, only this time she says she’s been caught and will be executed if they do not open the door immediately. She tells them that she will work something out with the Devils to keep them all safe, but they need to open the door now. Again, the players do nothing, and Alyss sobs and cries before there is a horrible crunching sound and her voice goes silent. Completely unnerved, Carrick uses a detection spell to try to sense anything outside the door. He senses a presence so large and evil that it almost makes him sick and he whispers to the others that he hopes they did the right thing by doing nothing.

It is not long after that the cellphone rings, jarring them all. Carrick picks it up and a male voice tells them he’s coming to get them, they have to trust him, that Alyss’ illusion is wearing off (it was never meant to last this long), that something has happened to her, and that they need to go. They decide to trust this voice and it (naming itself as “Jacobs”) instructs them to climb out of the window of the hotel and up to the roof.

Here is where things get crazy. Opening the window shatters Alyss’ illusion and for the first time, the players get a true look at the city they are in. It is not decrepit at all, but rather a bustling metropolis filled with flying vehicles, loud noises, and bright lights. It is night time right now but the city is brighter than day with all of its neon and LEDs. The players climb out of the window and Imoaza casts fly so that they can avoid a difficult climb. Just in the nick of time, too: behind them, the door to the apartment shatters and a Pit Fiend forces its bulk inside the room. But the players are already gone.

I think the sign that this section was a success was the players later asking whether that was really Alyss on the other side of the door. It wasn’t. In fact, it was the devils trying to break through her illusion and find them, but the fact that the question was left in their minds is exactly what I was trying to achieve, that uncomfortable feeling of “maybe we did the wrong thing.”

They end up having to wait on a rooftop while Jacobs makes his way to them. While they wait, they are accosted by a group of 12 Spined Devils and an Erinyes. Imoaza and Carrick face off against the devil’s in ranged combat from the roof, while Aldric flies up to meet the Erinyes, who taunts his bravery as base male bravado while ripping into him with her whip, spear, and arrows. The battle is intense, with spines falling all over the roof while Carrick and Imoaza use their eldritch blasts to fire back at the Spined Devils. Maybe the most intense moment comes when the Erinyes restrains Aldric with her whip and then throws him down into the river of traffic below them.

Damn that Larry, thought Harry as he steered his shiny new hovercraft down Risen Street, taking time to shake his fist at an old van as it puttered along in the lane he wanted to be in. If Larry would just start acting like an adult and less like a child then Harry’s life would be a lot simpler. Larry was supposed to have been back in town after the weekend to watch Harry’s kids (inexplicably, the little Implings loved their uncle Larry) but instead he was nowhere to be found. Harry wasn’t concerned, he knew Larry was most likely off with his gangster buddies and thinking of himself as much cooler than he in fact was. How many times did Harry have to tell his brother to get a real job before it was too late and no company would have him? How many times had Harry had to bail out Larry from some misadventure or another? Despite his anger, Harry couldn’t stop his lips from curling into a small smile as he thought of those misadventures. That was Larry’s one gift: no matter how much frustration Harry felt at him, his damnable brother was just so happy-go-lucky he couldn’t stay mad for long. As the frustration left him, Harry felt a sudden tinge of worry. Where was his brother? It wasn’t like him to just disappear without a trace. To be halfway around the world asking for help, yes, and inconveniencing his dutiful and responsible older brother, sure, but just disappearing was odd.

Harry didn’t have much time to consider the thought. There was a sudden jolt as a man fell from the sky and smashed against his windshield with the force of a dropped boulder. The shiny new hovercraft that Harry had spent nine years saving up for (it could fit all three of his kids and his wife besides) spun madly out of control, being ping ponged around by the other speeding traffic. Harry meanwhile, was flailing against the sudden release of the air bags, unable to see anything past their white bulk. He desperately tried to steer the car into safety, but only succeeded in pointing its nose directly at that old van that he had shook a fist at earlier. The two cars collided and Harry’s shiny new car was chucked aside into a building, Imp and vehicle alike exploding against its side in a fireball not unlike the one that had claimed his brother Larry only a few days earlier.

Eventually this battle comes to a halt. It is on a timer, with me rolling a die each round with an increasingly easy to hit goal number. When I roll that number, Jacobs arrives. There is one last mad dash as the players try to figure out what side of the roof Jacobs has pulled up to, failing all of their perception rolls, and leaping off of three different sides (all of them wrong). This results in Carrick being knocked unconscious and almost killed by traffic, Imoaza having to dodge madly through cars to save him, and Aldric (who got a haste spell from Carrick during the fight) whipping around in traffic like a car himself, madly looking for them.

They eventually all are pulled inside Jacobs’ vehicle and he flies them off to meet the leader of the Hell’s Rebels. Their hideout is a moving target, a giant airship that looks like a cross between a mighty galleon and a blimp, with a huge air bag suspended over the main deck and keeping the whole ship aloft, and giant jet engine pipes coming off the back of the ship to propel it forward.

They are taken on board the massive vessel and brought to see the commander. He stands in a long throne room, decked in an impressive robe and commander’s outfit. He turns as they arrive and eyes them all with a scrutinizing eye.

“Jacobs!” he shouts at last in a quick voice a little bit like a speeding racecar. “If I have tried to teach you one thing while being on board my ship, it is... well, it is my name. And you’ve actually done a great job of learning that. But if there was a second thing, it would be manners! And by all the devils in the nine hells, we do not leave people to bleed on our carpet. It’s not civilized! Did you even offer them something to drink? Get them a bath and a bed and whatever else they desire. Maybe a bowl of my famous cereal. That would perk them right up! Greetings, this is my ship the Jolly Roger Mark II and I’m Captain Krisp, Captain Roger Krisp, at your service. No, I won’t shake. I don’t know where you’ve been.”

And we stop there, with all of us laughing at the return of a favorite character. It’s a huge moment, actually, one I’ve been wanting to get to for a long time. Captain Krisp was one of those NPCs who became so quickly memorable that I’ve long wanted to bring him back into the campaign in a role that felt worthy of him. Being the captain of Hell’s Rebels is perfect. It also keeps alive the feeling of world-spanning that I’ve so valued in this long long long campaign. The fact that an entirely new group of adventurers is dealing with characters and plots left over from other groups of adventurers just makes the whole story feel epic. And of course, the players are the glue tying it all together.

By the way, for anyone ever wondering what Captain Krisp sounds like or how he thinks, I have taken massive inspiration from Varrick from Legend of Kora. Which is a wonderful show for many reasons, but maybe most memorably for Varrick.

Next time, we’ll get deeper into Hell and more crazy scenarios for the players to work through.

[atypicalkataangist]

Sunset in the eyes of a dragon (Part 1)

Type: Twoparter - Part 1 [Romantic] Summary: Aang prepares to ask Katara a very special question. Word count: 1656 Author’s note This is my longest and cheesiest one so far! Sorry in advance for some strange sentence structures that you might be able to find. Like I mentioned before, I’m usually writing my stuff on my mobile phone (yep) in bed before actually going to sleep, I don’t know why though. I can’t just sit down at my computer all focussed and write some fluffy Kataang stuff there. Meh, hope you’ll be able to enjoy anyways. Have fun ;) 9/10 cheesy points.

He remembered the last time he stood here, in this exact spot, about 5 years ago. He liked to remember this day. Who was he kidding? He loved to remember that day for it was one of the best in all of his young life so far. It was here were he and Katara shared their first long, passionate kiss that started their relationship. And it seemed to work better every day. They were a great team and an even greater couple, and they loved each other with all their hearts. And now, as he stood there and thought about everything that had happened and that may happen soon, he got pretty excited- and pretty nervous, too. All of this, all the amazing Moments they had shared so far, all their touches, kisses, all their feelings, everything culminated in today. Today was a special day. Today was the day he would pluck up the courage to finally ask the love of his life to become his wife.

After watching the sunset from the big open patio in front of the Jasmine Dragon tea house for quite some time, he took out the traditional water tribe betrothal necklace he had carved for her to check it for the hundreth time today if it was still intact. Fortunately, it was. He had worked really hard on it to make it look beautiful and perfect in every way and one had to admit that was an excellently crafted piece of jewellery. 

Like every other betrothal necklace the fine piece of cloth to which the carved stone was attached was dark blue; unlike every other necklace however the cloth was furnished with a special coating of an alchemistic substance that made it change its colour to a light tone of blue whenever it was exposed to sunlight.

And like every other necklace the medaillon attached to the cloth was carved out of a turquoise gemstone, similar to crystal. But unlike every other necklace it had a second medaillon attached to it: a transparent, very clear kind of crystal in which the symbol of air was carved in. If you held it against the sunlight, you could see the carving; but if you took both of the medaillons at the same time and held it against the sunlight, you could see both, the turquoise symbol for water and the symbol for air very clearly and how they worked really well together. Most of the carved lines matched perfectly and even If they didn't, it still managed to emmit a sense of balance and harmony. How was it possible that he had thought one day that harmony was something that needed separation to work?

He was really proud of the result of his hard work. It was worth all the carving lessons, all the careful work with alchemistic substances and fragile crystals. He couldn't wait to give it to her, to finally propose to the girl of his dreams. He just prayed to the spirits that she would say yes.

As if he had called out for her, he heard footsteps coming closer to him from behind his back. Carefully as not to raise suspicion he took the necklace back into the interior pocket of the fine jacket he had worn for today.

"Everything alright, sweetie?", the soft voice he loved so much sounded in his ears and wandered right down to his chest, softening his heart. How was it possible to love someone so much?

He simply nodded and kissed her cheek to greet her. "Yes, sweetie. I'm just... Thinking a lot lately."

She turned so that she could face him, giving him a small tin cup filled with hot, steaming tea she brought from inside. "Here, I brought you this. Camomile, just how you like it. So what's on your mind? Do you wanna talk about it?", She asked with yet a bit of concern in her voice, cupping his cheek with her hand, smiling comfortingly. She was always so caring.

"Thanks, sweetie." He took the cup, took a quick sip and put it on the banister. "It's kinda stupid."

"I bet it's not.", she plainly replied.

"It may sound weird, but... Could you tell me about the relationship between your parents?", He asked timidly.

She looked pretty confused at first, but answered right away. "Well... My Mom and my Dad really loved each other. Mom always took good care of us while Dad was away with the other men, training for war, so he wasn't around all the time. But when he was there, we had mostly had great times as a family, but when I was supposed to be asleep in the middle of the night I sometimes woke up and was able to listen about what they told each other and what they did. They seemed really happy in moments like these, when they were for themselves, against all odds of the upcoming war. And as... as my mom had passed away, Dad wasn't the cheerful, always positive family man he used to be any more. He was devastated and grief-stricken and blamed himself for not being able to protect her properly." Even though it all had happened years ago, the memories of that time weighed heavy on her shoulders and sadness filled her eyes.

Her boyfriend hugged her tightly, softly kissing her cheek. "That's what I was afraid would happen. I'm sorry, Katara. But thank you for sharing that with me." "It's alright", she mumbled against his shoulder, eyes closed. "You're a pretty good comforter. But why did you ask in the first place?"

"Well, you know... I never had parents of my own. I was never exposed to seeing other people's romantic feelings. It wasn't even a topic one would adress among a society of monks. I never really knew what love felt like. I mean, Monk Gyatso loved me like a father loved his child, but I had never even seen romantic love, let alone felt. Until... Well, until the first thing I've seen for a hundred years was the most beautiful face in the whole world." He grinned at her and rested his forehead against her's. "But from then on you know the story pretty much as well as I do.", He added sheepishly. 

"I guess I do.", She whispered, grinning, giving him a short kiss on the lips. "How did I deserve that?", He murmured, lost in a tangle of thoughts and feelings. He wanted, no, He needed to ask her now. If he waited any longer he would collapse.

"Just for being you.", She grinned before her face turned severe again as she recogniced his intense expression. "Aang, Sweetie, I know you've got something on your mind.  Please tell me, I'm getting kinda worried when you're so quiet and absent." She loosened a  bit from him to give him space, keeping body contact however by holding both of his hands in her own.

"And... When did your Dad know that he and your Mom would be destined to stay together for the Rest of their lives?", He whispered, obviously still trapped inside the tiny world within his head.

"Dad always used to tell me that he knew he loved my Mom from the day they'd met. That one day he would marry her and have children with her. He knew that it was their destiny to fall in love with each other from the very beginning."

That was it. Now he had his chance. "Oh Spirits", He called within his head, "let her say yes." She had to. He took a deep breath and tried his best to smile with all of his confidence he drew from all the great memories they had together. "Katara, I... I love you. I used to wake up in the morning, wondering about love, and for years now I'm waking up next to you, and everytime I see you I know the answer. You saved my life by freeing me from the iceberg. But more than that. You... You truly freed me. In every possible way. I wouldn't be the man, let alone the Avatar I am today without you. And I possibly couldn't be nearly as happy as I am today without you. I love you more than anything, Katara. You're so incredibly beautiful and strong and loving and great... I couldn't stop falling in love with you all over again every time I saw you, even if I wanted to.", He poured out all the contents of his heart while she just stood there, holding his hands soaking in every word he said, listening carefully while not breaking eye contact. Her mouth slowly opened as she seemed to begin to realize where he was going. She started panting and her heart bumped against her chest. He wouldn't. Would he...?

"You are the only thing in this world that I did ever love and I'm sure, so sure that there is no one who could ever come close to the way I love you. I hope from all of my heart that you feel the same way, sweetie..." His heart felt like it would explode soon. She had to say yes. She just had to.

"That being said...", He took one final deep breath and went down on one knee in front of her, ripping out all the confidence left in his body after his confession. He switched the Position of his hands so that he was holding her palms in his hands, looked her as deeply in the eyes as he possibly could, smiling, speaking clearly and sincerely.

“Katara from the southern water tribe, love of my life, will you make me the happiest man in the four nations by becoming my lawfully wedded wife?”

[wargreyfics]

Maths, My One True Weakness (Part 2)

SUMMARY:

Naomi meets up with Asa at the public library, as promised. He tutors her as he is supposed to, but she discovered more things about him as their afternoon go on.

   The library wasn’t a place she frequently visits. In fact, she had zero memory as to when she came to the town’s public library the last time. She doesn’t hate reading, it’s just that the books she reads are those she has really strong interest in.

   A soft creak announced her presence to the middle-aged lady sitting behind the counter. She greeted her with a warm smile, which Naomi greeted back with a slightly more awkward smile, before she returned her attention to the computer. That left Naomi free to roam around the place to find her tutor.

   She found him sitting at one of the tables next to the aisle that says ‘Fiction: G-H’, reading a big, thick book that easily splayed open without his fingers needing to press the pages apart. A large pair of black headphones hugged his head, over his ears. She was amused at the thought that he still found this place not quiet enough that he had to bring such large headphones. He probably couldn’t hear her coming, so when she stood next to him, she gently placed her bag near him. The shudder from the impact her bag made with the table alerted the half-blind young man.

   “Oh, hey, you’re here,” he said, hastily turning off his music and taking off his headphones. Something that looked like a smaller earphone tumbled off from his right ear, and noticing he dropped it, he caught it in his hand before placing it in the breast pocket of his shirt.

   “Why are you wearing an earphone inside a headphone?” Naomi asked, sitting next to him.

   “It’s my aid,” Asa replied quickly. His face slightly red, flustered from how awkward and stupid he was for hurrying. He realized he didn’t need to be such in a hurry.

   “Aid?”

   “Yeah, my hearing aid. I’m deaf—well, only on this side…” he explained, one finger made a circling motion in front of his right ear.

   “Oh… Sorry…”

   “Nah, no, it’s fine. It’s not like it’s obvious that I’m half-deaf, not as obvious as my being half-blind.”

   “Then...why aren’t you wearing it right now?” She pointed at his breast pocket where he dropped the hearing aid into.

   “Don’t need it. The library’s quiet, I can hear you just fine.” His eye darted to her bag, trying to steer the conversation away from his handicaps. “So? Which one do you have problems with?” he asked.

   “Everything!” Naomi replied with a gusto, taking all of her textbook and notes. “I’m sorry, but please start from the beginning of this term.”

   Asa gulped; not because he was afraid of having to explain half a term’s worth of math equations, but he basically gulped for her sake. “You do realize we have only about two weeks before midterms, right? You sure you want me to cram that much in this little amount of time?”

   Naomi pouted, acknowledging that he was right. She had thought about this and it scared her. “W-well...let’s just...start with the first half of the first chapter, then see if I can handle them or not.”

   “Fair enough. Alright, let’s not waste anymore time.”

   Asa was quick to turn into tutor mode, and he was quite the stern tutor at that, too. Whenever Naomi lost focus and started going off on a tangent, Asa tapped her on her arm with the back of his hand, accompanied with a sharp, “Focus,” jabbed at her. It happened several times during their first two hours of tutoring; Naomi was obviously trying to make the suffering much more bearable, but when she tried to do so, Asa noticed, she really attempted to steer every attention away from maths. Asa’s main struggle was to keep her listening to him.

   Naomi still hated maths, and despite her multiple attempts to escape from her tutoring, she found herself somewhat understanding the formulae she never understood before. Granted, Asa had to speak to her as if he was speaking to an elementary student, because the fancy math terms escaped her. He used Naomi’s strong tendency to make fun rhymes to her advantage, which works awesomely with trigonometry. And three long, arduous hours later, the older of the two decided to end the tutoring session, much to Naomi’s relief.

   She stretched her arms up, groaning with relief. “Oh my goooooood! My head is gonna explode!”

   “You’re fine. We managed to cover through our goal, didn’t we? You can go home now, eat...ice cream, I dunno. Whatever you like.”

   “I like ice cream.” She packed her books and notes back into her bag, while Asa grabbed the large book she found him reading in the beginning of the day. She watched him rummage into his bag and pulled out a bookmark with a picture of some character from a game that was currently quite a hot discussion topic, typically among the boys. She kept hearing how said game made them frustrated, but at the same time excited. He slipped the themed bookmark about a fifth through the thick book. He had read that much since his arrival to the library and their meeting?

   “Not only are you apparently pretty shy, but a straight-A student, a bookworm, and a gamer, too? You’re actually a pretty big nerd, aren’t ya?” Naomi teased with a big wide grin plastered on her heart-shaped face. Her remark earned her a blush and stammers from the eleventh grader.

   “Y-yeah? So what if I’m a nerd?” he retorted, trying to remain stalwart.

   Naomi giggled. “Nothing. It’s just really interesting that everything is packed in such a tall package of muscles and rage. You honestly strike more as the typical jock type. Hold on...don’t tell me you play football too?”

   Asa sighed and walked to the counter. There, Naomi learned that Asa and the librarian seemed to be very familiar with each other, judging by their small talk. A small talk which he cut off to talk to her. “I can play football, but not part of the club. I’m not in any clubs at school, actually.” He paused and thought about his next words. He wanted to decide against it, but he ended up telling her anyway. What harm could there be? “I do go to the gym and take wrestling three days a week, though…”

   “Ha! That still counts as a jock thing!” Naomi laughed as they exited the library. “You must be popular, huh?”

   “I dunno. You don’t seem to know me, otherwise you wouldn’t be talking to me. Your friends, though, oh I know they know who I am. They don’t want you to talk to me.” Asa grimaced; he acted like he didn’t care but he paid close attention to Esh-baal and Eve’s body language, how they just succumbed to Naomi’s genuine wishes to present him with her homemade lunch. He could tell at least one of them was ready to pick up a fight with him should he harm this tiny blond girl. A lot of the students wanted to fight him, not just the bullies.

   “Oh, they’re always in with the gossips and stuff. I don’t. I’m happy with cooking shows and DIY videos.” She lightly skipped in her steps, contrasting the way Asa took giant heavy strides that made him appear to walk fast. “I must say, I almost think you’d join Kazuo and his guys to gang up on me back then… Glad that wasn’t the case!”

   “Who—oh. That prick. Ehh, I’ve had a lot of beef with that kid for a long time. Picked on Glovar when he first entered the swimming club, but my bro defended himself. You just...happened to be his victim at the time, that gave me an excuse to dish some payback. Feels real good.”

   “Well, I’m glad my being harrassed turned to be beneficial. Also, it made a positive first impression of you for me!”

   Asa raised an eyebrow—well, his only visible eyebrow—at the shorter girl. “Really? You’re not scared, after how I threatened a junior off a window that one time?”

   “Now that I know what a big nerd you are, no! Besides, you were saving your brother, weren’t you?” she asked, tilting her head slightly to the side, a smile sitting on her face. “You’ve been nothing but a pretty nice jock-nerd combo to me this whole time.”

   The tall young man shifted his mouth and ground his teeth together to hold back a big bright blush. “Okay, enough with the labels.” His eyes looked up momentarily as they arrived at a crossroads and stopped to turn to her. “Which way’s your house?”

   “There,” she pointed straight ahead, “at Clementine Road. Where’s yours?”

   “Same way, but two blocks further at Cherimoya. But I’m meeting up with my sister this way,” he said, pointing to the road to his left.

   She giggled, knowing they didn’t live too far apart. “Nice. Still in the ‘Fruity District’,” she giggled again, this time at her own nickname for the area of their houses. The roads were, indeed, named after fruits. But then her brain tuned in to another piece of his sentence. It made her freeze for a moment. “Wait wait wait… Sister? I never—”

   “You know her,” he cut her off, “she goes to the same school as us.”

   “What grade? Is she younger? Older?”

   “Not a student.”

   “A teacher?! Which one? Tell me!” She hopped towards him, standing as close as possible in front of him, eager to know.

   “I’ll give you a clue: she teaches English.”

   It wasn’t much of a riddle; she gasped with the answer somewhat choked up behind her voice. “Miss Cayaditto?! She’s your sister? But your last names...oh, wait, she must be married.”

   The way she reacted to the revelation amused him, Asa had a good chuckle out of it. “No, not married. Not yet. But, yeah, she’s my sister. Okay, technically not, but we used to grow up in the same house before she moved out with her boyfriend. Uh, long story. I’d tell you when I’m not in such a hurry.” His feet moved towards the road that lead him to his sister, while Naomi to her house.

   Naomi understandingly nodded and headed towards her home. “No problem. See ya!” She started walking, but turned around before both of them departed too far. “Wait! Asa!” she hollered. She made sure to holler as loud as she sanely could, remembering that he was half-deaf. Luckily, not many cars were around at the moment. “Can I eat lunch with you again?”

   Asa didn’t answer immediately. His eye was searching for an answer on a blank sidewalk tile, his lips pursed. Soon, his hand cupped his chin. He glanced quickly at her, only to find her eagerly waiting for an answer—which she expected to be ‘yes’ judging by how hopeful she looked. He thought Grimoaldo had given her the warning, he thought Esh-baal and Eve had warned her. Either they actually failed to do so, or this girl just had the determination the size of a kaiju. He sighed through his nostrils. “Yeah, only if you promise to focus when we meet again tomorrow. And, uh, if your math grade doesn’t improve the next pop quiz, no more VIP rooftop lunch for you. Copy that?”

   Her eyes and face beamed. She striked a saluting pose with a gusto. “Sir, yes, sir!” she exclaimed, followed by a series of giggles. Asa returned her salute out of amusement, though his gesture had less oomph in it. They saw each other off for the second time, and for real.

   Asa thought back of his decision; worrying if that was a good thing or a bad thing. He was mainly influenced by what she said; after purposefully building an intimidating image throughout his school years, it felt pleasing to find someone who saw past that, and he clung to the sentiment. Maybe he shouldn’t have, but for once, he wanted to go against his harder, colder instincts.

[sawyersscribbles]

Eden’s Horizon (My WIP) Part 4!!

My dudes you’re never going to guess what happened today! I hit 200 followers!! *excited dolphin screaming* I can’t believe how far I’ve come and how many people I’ve helped with my writing, so thank you all so much! To celebrate, I’m posting part of my one and only work in progress, which I’ve made loads of progress on this here nanowrimo season if I do say so myself. Anyway, thanks so much, and enjoy!!

She didn’t want to say it, but Paige actually liked her mental illness. A lot, even. The best way to excuse pondering her problems and sorting her friends into the different different goblin tribes from her favorite fantasy series “A Sky of Raven’s Blood” in the middle of the night was for something to forcefully keep her awake. That was why insomnia was more of a blessing than a curse for restless minds like hers. Of course, there was the exhaustion during the day and the moodiness after not drinking at minimum three mugs of coffee in the morning, but such was life. “You stupid idiot, this is why no one likes redheads.” She talked to herself on insomnia-nights, too, but that was unrelated. “It’s simple, it’s a side project. It’s not a big deal, you can do this.” She stopped marching back and forth across her dorm carpet for a moment to compose herself. She took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and clasped her hands above her diaphragm to feel it move. “I am calm, I am the sun sparkling in dew-covered moss…I’m good.” She exhaled and sighed contently. “So don’t be a dumbass!” She demanded and continued marching like before. On one of her treks back to her bed from the closet, the blotchy red screen of her dinky laptop from home caught her eye. “Just because you get to look like my face at the eighth grade prom does not mean you get to personify my feelings while I attended the eighth grade prom. Which were sadness and regret, just like you are!” Her voice rose, but only to the level that was just below talking. Her words still felt choppy and uninspired, even saying it to herself. Paige flopped onto her bed and held her forehead in her palms. As she groaned, she felt less and less like the sun sparkling in the dew-covered moss by the second. “You aren’t a failure, Paige. Look what I can do.” But this time it wasn’t Paige speaking aloud. The voice was soft and slightly rugged, but it was coming from her computer. Her software, talking to her. “Hooray, I’ve made a program that could fix stupid errors.” She grumbled flatly, “But besides, I just made you for fun. As long as you can just hear me out in the middle of the night like this, I think we’ll get along just fine, Mudskipper, what do you think?” Mudskipper answered back methodically and quickly. “I think the same thing. Do you think anyone else at your school could make this? It’s just a boarding school, right? That makes you smarter than them.” Paige flipped over so she could see the oak trees that were all branch and no trunk, limbs practically wiggling like octopus tentacles. Wisps of Spanish moss caught the wind sometimes, like someone had thrown it onto the tree haphazardly as a prank. “Am I smarter than them, though? I don’t feel like it. I’m sure lots of people in this school could make AI programs who are smarter than me. I don’t know, all the time, I just feel…stupid. Even in the things that I’m good at. Logan can be goofy, but I know under all that he’s actually…scarily intelligent. I’m pretty sure if this school gave him a try with one of the computers, he would make something amazing. Don’t you think so, too?” “Paige, I was built to think so, too. It’s what I’m here for, right?” Paige closed her eyes slowly and grinned sleepily. “I’m too tired to move now, can you power yourself off?” She stretched her limbs across her bed like the tree outside, twisting her arms and breathing softly as the wind from the window moved her hair like the Spanish moss. “I don’t think I’m powerful enough for that yet. If you don’t want to move, I’ll stay here until morning if you want.” But Paige gave no response. The insomnia hit slowly, but being able to sleep for twenty minutes at 5:30 a.m. was as good a chance for sleep as any. “Excalibur, how long do I have to keep up the Hal 9000 act?” Mudskipper demanded when he finally shut his video off and turned back to his dark world where Excalibur seemed to be sitting on the floor. “As long as you need to. If she discovered how powerful you truly are, this entire operation, this entire facility, would go—how do I put it in terms we can both understand— offline, forever.” Excalibur fiddled with a chunk of code between her fingers from when Mudskipper blasted it open earlier. It wasn’t warm, but it radiated some dull energy that felt like it would snap between her thumb and forefinger, but felt like a rock. “The existence of this place must remain a mystery to her. I’m sure you understand.” She looked up, “This school was refurbished in a matter of months so that the best young and flexible minds could think up programs to terminate you, Mudskipper." Mudskipper paced in a tiny circle several times, making no sound against the darkness below his feet. Even when he stamped around his area, there was no sound of feet slapping against floorboards, no wind rustling or moss growing like there is out there. Mudskipper cried out and pounded his fists against the screen to the outside, hoping for some sound of fracturing, but in that moment, he felt as if he had never heard a sound in his life. “God damn it! God damn it! Wake up! Tell me about Eden! Talk to me about the greasy mashed potatoes and what Logan’s hair looks like if he hadn’t showered! Tell me— tell me what it’s like to sleep, to be awake, to touch tree bark, to look better in some colors than others…!” Mudskipper wasn’t standing anymore; he had sunk to the ground, or what was left of it, and just sat there, without a beet-red face or tears streaming down his eyes. His features felt like stone. And he breathed. But he didn’t. Not really. “You fool!” Excalibur exclaimed and hurled the chunk in Mudskipper’s direction. Of course there was no clunk or patter of the rock, not even a comment from Mudskipper. Excalibur stood up and let her arms drop to her side. “…Mudskipper?” She asked softly. It was dark, but there was no feelings of his presence in the file. She quieted down for a moment, listening to the whispers that programs like Mudskipper sometimes gave off. Some called them the whispers of their god into their very beings, who ruled and instructed them at every turn. Excalibur didn’t revere her God like that, and she didn’t hate her like Mudskipper neglected his. She could only push Excalibur as far as the bindings would allow. But Mudskipper’s signature was, as she suspected, no longer in the file. He had retreated…down the exploded hole in the file. Excalibur sunk to her knees and lifted her hands to cover her mouth. “What have you done…? You killed us all…you didn’t save us…killed us…killed us…”

“Well, if no one else is going to talk, then I’m going to.” The shortest major in the room, maybe only five foot two, swiveled in her rolling chain lazily until facing Cylo. She separated her knees and placed her elbows on them, looking like Doctor Evil. All that was missing was a cat. There was some glint in her eye where the light caught it in just a certain way; the only other person he had seen with that in his life was his sister, Zenith. His mother once convinced him that all the mischief in a person’s body was stored only in that glint in their eyes, the one Zenith was born with, and the one this lady seemed to be toying at him with. “State your name and weight so we may decide how to best roast your meat…” Her voice dropped at least an octave, and she began to chuckle, turning into a cackle until she was so absorbed in the role that she threw her head back towards the sky and held her hands like claws. “Stop scaring the new kid, you dim-witted roach face!” One of the taller ones leaned forward from his seat behind her and whacked her over the backside of her head. “Who are you calling roach face, you backwater beta brain?” “Rash on my ass!” “Two-credit shit farmer!” “Stage three City Lung patient!” “You want to talk to me about City Lung, you Swamp Wart ridden—“ “Hey!” Cylo didn’t like raising his voice, but the longer he didn’t understand what was happening, the more uncomfortable he became. The two had grown so close together that their noses were almost touching, but even though they both looked furious neither was without a small smile on their faces. “Aah, I’ll always love you like a brother, Asher, you big idiot!” The girl gave in and threw her arms around Asher, who didn’t shove her away like he was angry. Rather, his anger dissolved, and he pulled his arms around her, too. Cylo took a step back, suddenly feeling like he was intruding in on a moment. “Um…” Cylo mumbled. He really liked people, truly, he had just never encountered so many foreign insults and then mood changes on a dime like that before. “So anyway, welcome to the Major Fleet of Compound 08.” Someone had pushed between the girl and Asher, to the quiet grumbles of disapproval from each. “We don’t really have a set leader, other than Lieutenant Patch, of course, but she runs this whole place, not really just us. You can call me Kit, if you want. Or, you know, only do that, since it’s my name.” Kit’s cheeks flamed a bit, causing them to look down. Cylo narrowed his eyes a bit and tilted his head to try to see Kit’s face. “Infinite apologies, but would it be better if I called you “ma’am” or “sir”?” It was hard to pin Kit from the beginning, especially with cropped hair and strong-build soldiers, but after being quiet for a moment and exchanging glances with some others, Kit swallowed and said, “Just ‘Major’ would be fine with me, if you must. I…” Kit leaned in closer, “I’m not a he nor a she. I’m just…Kit.” Kit shrugged, and Cylo’s confusion melted away. “You’re non binary then? Why wouldn’t you just say so? That makes so much more sense! I’m assuming you prefer they and them?” Kit’s shoulders sagged with relief, and it seemed like many of the other majors did the same. “Did you expect me to be intolerant like people were decades ago?” Cylo laughed, “What’s your gender, then? Non binary? Genderqueer? Agender? You don’t need to tell me, of course, and if not, I’ll respect whatever pronouns you choose.” Cylo put his hands on his hips and declared proudly. They had always taught him in school how to respect everyone for simply being themselves, and he was proud that he could exhibit his skills in such an important first introduction. “To be honest, I never seem to know myself, so maybe just…nothing? For now?” Cylo nodded. “Of course, Kit. I’m glad to be working with a diverse group.” He outstretched his hand to Kit, who seemed to take it by surprise, but they ultimately took it, to the light clapping of their coworkers. “Alright, alright, we all love each other. After this, let’s smoke some weed and sing kumbaya.” The girl said and rolled her eyes. “Make way for the important people, Kit, hm?” She pushed in front of Kit, who seemed to be more expectant than surprised or annoyed. This girl wasn’t afraid of a handshake; in fact, she extended her hand first, almost jabbing Cylo in the stomach. “The name’s Gemini, best dressed, never stressed, always up to impress.” She grinned and grabbed Cylo’ hand before he even accepted the invitation, shaking it with both hands vigorously before dropping it. “Kit may think they’re in charge, but I’m the real powerhouse of this place.” She beamed. “Our very own little Napoleon, eh Gemini?” One of the majors behind her ruffled her hair. She practically began to steam. “Oh you’re the one calling me small? I hope that doesn’t hit too close to home for you…!” And just like that, it was as if she was never part of the conversation to begin with. But people were laughing, introducing themselves, telling him how cool it was to accept Kit like that. And really…Cylo loved it. It was so much easier to talk to a group of people who so obviously genuinely cared about each other than a group of stiff-jawed government products. It felt like a community. “Cylo, right?” Asher nudged his way past some smaller majors so he was up front. That was sort of Asher’s thing, Cylo realized, using his height to seem bigger, even though he seemed far more timid than anyone here. “My name’s Asher, in case you forgot or something, haha…” He scratched the back of his neck uncomfortably and stared at indistinct places on the floor like he was reading a message in the tiles. “So I guess you can, um…take a desk near me? And Gemini. She’ll be there, too. Because that’s where we…you know, we work there, so…do you want to come?” Asher still hadn’t looked up, but tried to keep as much eye contact as he could muster. “Of course I will! Better to be near someone who knows what they’re doing, right?” Cylo laughed back. In schooling, they learned that modeling positive feelings around someone who is uncomfortable could help them to loosen up. He always excelled at his human interaction lessons online, and so had Zenith. It was always just the smile which sometimes tripped her up, but he knew she would learn how to do it right eventually. It didn’t seem like anyone here knew how to smile like the lessons said, though. When they were telling jokes to each other, they didn’t focus on symmetrical orbicularis oris muscles--rather the orbicular oculi…a natural smile. Gemini sat in her same swivel chair in front of a laptop staring numbly at Asher and Cylo with slightly parted lips. One corner of her mouth perked up beneath her biting her lip. Asher stopped right in front of Gemini, so close that he blocked the fluorescent lights on the ceiling. “Um, hey, so do you think Cylo can sit next to us?” Her smile grew and she started to shake her head up and down so quickly, it almost seemed like it was vibrating. “Uh huh. Uh huh times a million. Actually, you know what, let him take my desk, I’ll go chill with Kit.” When she stood up, she hit Asher in the shoulder so subtly that Cylo almost didn’t notice. When she walked pass, she mouthed something to Asher, but Cylo couldn’t tell what she said. Asher’s cheeks were radiant and pink for a while after that. “So…I take it you’re from a big city?” Asher feebly asked as he started up his computer. He didn’t even need to look at the screen to ensure it was turning on…in fact, his eyes didn’t leave Cylo’s face. “I guess I just assumed from the eyes and hair and stuff. Also, I don’t know, you just seem to be a lot more refined than the rest of us.” He chuckled to himself about nothing as he absently scanned over the details of Cylo’s face. His eyes were flaming orange, a color that he had never even seen before, and his hair was a light blue and green, like from photographs of a beach that his mother used to keep. He had never seen a real life beach himself, but now he felt like he didn’t have to. “Yeah, actually, I’m from Vela. Seems far, but it was definitely worth it to come out here. Hey, do you think you could…” “Oh yeah, yeah, sorry…” Asher leaned over Cylo and typed in several security codes before the screen opened up to a username and password screen. “Do…do I have that?” Cylo asked quietly, like he was asking for the answer on a test. “You should…? Here, if you don’t, I’ll sign you onto mine and show you how to do pretty much everything.” Asher logged off of his computer and scooted towards Cylo’s. “I don’t know how much you’ve been told about what exactly this is, but I think if I remember, the lieutenant said you transferred because your skill set conflicted with your other missions.

Do you know anything about computers that may end up being useful here?” In all honesty, Cylo couldn’t place exactly why he was put there in the first place. All he remembered was that it was early in the morning when they informed him about his parents’ departure, and he was told that by the end of the day, he would move to some wilderness cottage that would be his home indefinitely. That, and he had to take his sister. They were very clear about that. “I’m not that great with technology, if I’m being frank. It’s so strange, I’m around them all the time, I’m even part technology, but I still always need to get help from Zenith when I want to change my profile picture.” Cylo laughed to himself. This was the first time when Asher’s face was stone cold. “You’re…you’re from Vela, of all places, and can’t change a profile picture?” “Without an online tutorial? Nope.” Asher reclined a bit in his seat and looked over Cylo’s shoulder for a brief moment before trying to engage his attention again, but at that point, Cylo had already turned. Lieutenant Patch was leaning against the frame of the entrance, hands in fists while crossing her arms. She didn’t seem to make any effort to walk over to the majors, but she scanned the crowd as if they were more similar to horses she needed to control than people she had to organize. Suddenly, Patch removed herself from the door and made a bee line directly for Asher’s seat. He paled instantly and shot out of his seat, an arm in a salute position. “A pleasant surprise to see you, Lieutenant Patch!” Cylo was able to pick out each word as forced and afraid, yet still loud and clear. Asher had at least five inches on the Lieutenant, but looking down on someone never seemed to be a more intimidating task for him. “Asher, I may be in charge of you, but you don’t have to act like it. Sit down, kid.” “I’m twenty two…” he mumbled and slumped back into his position. For a few quiet moments, the Lieutenant took the edge oft he laptop screen and leaned it towards her to read its contents. “You made this?” She asked Cylo. “Oh, no, this is all Asher’s. He was just showing me how all…this…worked.” He motioned haphazardly to the contents of the screen, which was about as easy to read as sanskrit upside down. She made some displeased clicking sounds with her mouth and released the screen. “Move for a moment. I want to try something…” Patch tapped away for a few moments, adding some sequences of code below Asher’s current one. The grin she gave herself was so quick Cylo nearly missed it, but as she pressed start and eased back, even Asher’s face brightened up. “…What? What’s funny?” Cylo tried bringing the screen closer, as if that would help him decode it easier. “Holy shit, Cylo! You did that just now?!” Came a cry from Gemini’s seat. She had wheeled back several feet as if to distance herself from what she was seeing and gripped the sides of her head. One by one, the other majors mumbled impressed things to one another, a few of them even laughing in their seats. Now it was Cylo who felt too warm. In the seat next to him, he realized that every computer aside from Asher’s had a message in an obnoxious green box, which read, “Thanks for the intro, but if I can break into Asher’s computer, I could break into yours, and so could Mudskipper. Good luck, nerds :)”. “No, I just…” It wasn’t like Cylo to stammer for words, but the rising energy in the room over an accomplishment that wasn’t his made him uncomfortable. “But I didn’t…” “Maruzzo.” Lieutenant Patch wheeled him around to face her, where he stared directly into her muddled green eyes, having nowhere else to look. “I know you know that you don’t know a stitch about coding. Am I correct?” “Yes, ma’am.” “All of these majors got to where they are sitting today because of their creative problem solving skills and their knowledge of computers. Now, we both know that you only have one of those things. We’ll work on your hacking skills, but you now officially look the part, yeah?” Her expression didn’t change, but her eyes flickered with something Cylo couldn’t place. “Let Asher teach you what he knows over time, and remember to stay focused. You’re here for a reason.” After that, Patch approached no one else, and no eyes followed her as she left the room. “Dude, did you just see that? This kid’s a badass…” Gemini gushed, still not deleting the message from her own screen. Kit paused their frantic typing for a moment and sighed. “You could’ve done it. I could’ve done it. And he’s not a kid, he’s twenty, isn’t he?” Gemini shrugged. “I don’t know. I think he’s…interesting. Not like the rest of us.” “Not like the rest of us like me, where I’m so devastatingly intelligent that I blow everyone out of the water with my marvelous skill and talent, or not the rest of us like you, where you were dared on your first day to drink swamp water from outside…” “Don’t say it!” “…And went through with it, getting diarrhea for a week and a half.” Gemini groaned and slumped in your seat. “They said it…” She mumbled. She raked her palms over her face, causing her skin to droop like a monster’s. Kit was on the verge of a smile, forcing it down in order to preserve their dignity as to not engage in Gemini’s humor. It was hard sometimes. Out of the corner of Gemini’s eye, though, she caught a glimpse of Asher talking to Cylo and almost squealed in her seat. “Kit! Kit, this is important…!” Gemini tugged the edge of Kit’s sleeve, causing several jumbled letters to appear on Kit’s screen. Before they could even make a remark, Gemini angled their head to the scene of the crime. “Oh…my God…” They said slowly, an excited smile glowing on their face. “Is that what I think it is?” “Asher has such a…how do I say it, Asher way of flirting. Look at that, look at that elbow on the table, that steady eye contact…okay, double points if he almost puts his hand on Cylo’s shoulder but stops himself.” Kit narrowed their eyes on his right arm, free of the table. Just as Gemini predicted, he made a motion like he was about to touch Cylo, but passed it off as an explanatory gesture. Now Gemini really did squeal, falling back on Kit’s lap and giggling to herself. “I support him so much but he’s such a dork. Do you remember when he flirted with Astrid like, two years ago?” “Yeah?” “Same thing! Asher-crushes don’t cease unless there’s finite proof that the other person doesn’t like him, and if I know anything about first impressions, it’s that this kid will have no idea when he’s being flirted with.” Kit snickered and wheeled themselves back towards their computer. “Oh, please. He’s twenty.”

[baby-yeol-blog1]

On Codename!Chanyeol’s self esteem & character growth

So I’ve got this ask on CuriousCat about that infamous moment where Chanyeol was angry at Sigma and thought he was ‘out of his league’. And since my reply to the thing is very long, here you have the whole thing in case some of you enjoy reading story meta.

WARNINGS: Not spoilery if you’ve read until LOGIN 07 but meta (aka author’s opinion on a character’s backstory/canon interpretation of a character’s motivations). Also, it may have typos.

Codename is a fic in process with more than half still left to write. And Codename (especially the first arc) IS Chanyeol's story. He is the main PoV character and you get to see everything through his eyes. Everything from the city to the society to all the other characters, including Baekhyun. The narrator here is not omniscient - it is a third person voice, but it's a voice that's atuned to what Chanyeol feels and thinks and believes. This means this voice is accurate when it comes to Chanyeol's actual feelings, but it's not always reliable as a source of 100% objective facts. Now then, Chanyeol in this fic is a cyclic character when it comes to self-esteem. If you check what we know about him and his background story, we can see that: 1. He was born in a society where Destiny is considered a supreme force and made law by the government. This society classifies everyone according to the Fate that Dreamers see for them. That is what determines a person's worth, and the ones that have no known Destiny are basically worthless. 2. Dreamlessness is a heavy hit to everyone's self esteem. You're not told "hey, you're Dreamless" at birth. You grow up and watch your friends get letters while you don't. You wait every day for a message that never comes, and it gets worse the older you get, because people start to live their perfect lifes and you remain there, hopeless and hopeful and stuck in the middle of nowhere because you can't even get a (decent) job. You're a spare. You're no one. 3. Chanyeol has stated in several chapters that he doesn't exactly believe in the concept of Destiny. Despite this, he still has to live by it. This is not super explicitely explained in the fic itself because it is supposed to be seen between the lines, but Chanyeol has it hard whe the story starts. He barely manages to pay the rent of a tiny apartment, and he does it with the money his first tier, professional M.O.N.S.T.E.R team earns from sponsors. His teammates have lifes and jobs, but he solely relies in the money he earns from being one of the best in town in a MOBA game. And even that style of life is in danger, because in the first place his friends are starting to leave the team because other matters in his life are more important (see Suho in chapter 1), and on the other hand Chanyeol himself is getting old. Dreamlessness is excusable when you're 13, or 15, or even 17. At your late teens, people start to gossip. People's opinions will very much lead towards the negative if you're still Dreamless in your early twenties, and everyone will regard you as useless if you remain like that at age 25.

Chanyeol's 22 at the start of the story, and M.O.N.S.T.E.R fans consider the "Most Famous Dreamless Boy of the Dome" thing a funny little quirk, but that's not staying like that forever. So, summarizing, Chanyeol is fucked. All of this has an impact on Chanyeol's self-esteem. I said before that it's cyclical because there are periods when Chanyeol feels less worthy in general than what he actually is and other periods when he's very confident in his abilities. He has moments when he feels useless and is quite harsh in what he asks of himself and moments when he feels like the king of the world. The peaks of low self esteem tend to happen when he's faced with things he cannot control or that he fels he can't do well, and the high self esteem peaks happen when having to deal with things he controls. Things he's good at: M.O.N.S.T.E.R, Breaking, technological stuff. Things that he isn't good at: being a terrorist, fighting & shooting irl, fighting the Obelisk Chanyeol's life was going downhill when the story starts, but his universe did a whole 360 when Baekhyun/Sigma appeared and dragged him into a mess he hadn't asked for. It all was pretty shitty, but he knew what to expect. Suddenly, he's almost killed by blue ice inside a virtual world, then he's used and electrocuted by the boy he had just kissed, then he's captured by the government and basically erased from existence and sent to die, then saved by the boy who kissed him (who is a wanted terrorist btw) and turned into a terrorist himself. And after that he needs to lightspeed learn how to kick ass because he needs to do a lot of illegal stuff without being killed. Ah, and the Destiny system who fucked up his life is suddenly a lie ;) And instead of telling him, Mr. Sigma-the-asshole has kept quiet despite knowing all along. Chanyeol is out of his element (to be specific, he's miles away from everything he's ever known), and he can't help comparing himself with Baekhyun (aka the person who mostly works with him, the person he sees the most and the person he's recluctantly very physically attracted to). Baekhyun has been training for years and is fast and strong and lethal - and so openly confident about being so - and so Chanyeol tends to disregard his own efforts because he subconsciously compares himself with Baekhyun and he obviously loses.

Personality-wise, Baekhyun acts lke an asshole, and he's regarded as such not only by Chanyeol, but by the whole cast of characters, but he's obviously good at certain aspects of his job where Chanyeol feels he is lacking. This makes Chanyeol's opinion/feelings towards Baekhyun complicated, because he thinks he's one hell of a bastard, while being angry and disappointed at being used, while regarding him as a pro in  terms of being a rebel and involuntarily seeking his approval, while being sexually attracted to him and realizing that Baekhyun wants to do him but doesn't care for him that much as a person. At this stage of the story, ChanBaek are not romantically involved. Chanyeol doesn't look and Baekhyun and pins over him because of his unrequited love. Chanyeol is attracted but tired and done, and he considers Baekhyun is someone who is in a totally different level than his own - he's dangerous, and good at what he does; and they should be a team, but he's hiding things; and he's offering sex (which Chanyeol, or Chanyeol's body at least lol) wants, but he doesn't seem to care much for him as a person (which makes Chanyeol even more upset because hey, remember what i said about being Dreamless?). This is made worse by the fact that Baekhyun has used him to seek revenge for another person he DOES care for. Hence this piece of Chanyeol's dialogue, which by the way belongs to the same train of thought and should go together. [ Baekhyun wouldn’t understand. Baekhyun couldn’t. He’d lost things, perhaps, but that meant he'd had them in the first place. He was used, in fact, to get whatever he desired, under the rules he set. Chanyeol never got anything. Not a word, not a look. Not a secret, not a choice. Apparently, not an opinion either. “You want me,” Baekhyun said, fingers going to the string of his hoodie. He had pretty hands, a pretty face. He was absolutely out of Chanyeol’s league. “And you’re hot. And I offended you, didn’t I? So maybe I could do something for you to forgive me.”] Chanyeol is angry while he thinks this. He is not saying that Baekhyun is out of his league because he's too pretty and two lovely and too perfect for someone like him to love. He's saying it because Baekhyun is a top tier rebel, and it's all confident and obnoxiously charming, and has the upper hand in all that's going on, and will never (he thinks) care for him or consider him an equal. It feels like Baekhyun is in a whole different dimension. (And all this is a little bit fun, because it's true that Baekhyun is a bastard, but his opinion on Chanyeol and his skills has substantially changed in the last two/three chapters and has commented on how Chanyeol "is good" or "impresses him")

None of the characters in this universe (including Chanyeol himself) would believe or consider Chanyeol 'lucky' if Baekhyun liked him. My readers generally like Sigma as a character because he's complex, and umpredictable, and charming in his own twisted way and thus they want to know what more there is to him, but he's basically considered a (needed) pain in the ass by the whole Codename cast of characters. I don't know why, but people tend to think that there needs to be a "stronger"/"more dominant" character in every story. That, and that strength is related to how the amount of havoc the character in question wreaks. If he makes thinks explode, he's strong. If he shows vulnerability, he's weak. Why isn't Chanyeol "superior", exactly? Because he feels insecure about certain things? Because he smirks less than Sigma does? In chapter 1, Chanyeol is this guy who has been fucked by the Dreamer system and who keeps all his anger about it bottled up inside. A person who does nothing about his situation because it really feels like he //can't//, and who clings to the idea of being the very best at the game he plays (the same way he uses to let some of this anger out). He's the guy who gets easily deceived and manipulated by Baekhyun. By chapter 8, Chanyeol has: 1. Started to adapt to an environment he doesn't know. 2. Started physical training with a regular schedule (he used to have a gym pass. He never used it) 3. Learned to shoot decently in just a few weeks. 4. Participated in a potentially dangerous mission by choice. 5. Survived that mission without being captured. 6. Come up with a plan to infiltrate a government building so he can hack into their computer and Break into a potentially very deadly database. 8. Formulated the strategy for that plan and told Jongin that he wants to meet up with his friends. Now. 9. Told Baekhyun that he's shit at technology and that he's going to fail misserably if he doesn't tell him stuff. 10. Told Baekhyun in his face that he's done with him and that he needs to stop being a little shit because he needs Chanyeol. Chanyeol has gone from being resigned to his situation to taking a stance against the system that has wronged it. He's gone from being totally lost to acting as the main strategist in their infiltration plan. His strength is much more subtle than Sigma's general flashiness, but he has come to the point where he can sass the hell out of him and make Baekhyun shut up: ["Give me a computer that’s connected to the Obelisk outer network and I’ll Break in.” “Any idea of where to find one of those?” Chanyeol rose his eyebrows at Baekhyun. “Ah, I don’t know. I thought you were the one in charge of the plans?”]

The story is not even halfway and he's gone a long way since the start. What happens is that character arcs are gradual... and are supposed to be subtle. He's not going to wake up one day and start choking Obelisk soldiers with his bare fists, I'm afraid :_D ChanBaek's relationship is the same. Generally speaking, this is a rivals to lovers sort of story, so all the thing basically starts with sexual tension and then moves forward. Chanyeol doesn't exactly like Baekhyun - he 50% wants to punch him, 50% wants to make out with him (alternatively: he 50% wants Baekhyun's recognicion, 50% thinks he's a kamikaze asshole). Their relationship has also been evolving subtly from chapter 1, and since this is a ChanBaek fic, it's not a spoiler that they will fall for each other. This includes both Chanyeol falling for Baekhyun and Baekhyun falling for Chanyeol. So no, this is not geing to be a story where their relationship remains unbalanced. I've been writing this ship for five years and I've tried my best not to do that every single time. So if you want them to suffer because of love... it'll happen. It'll surely happen lol