#kill bill sirens r going off in my head thinking about this

[ceilidho]

Omg yaaaas i agree w that other anon, if you ever have like tidbits or random thoughts about military asset soap I'd gobble them up! Ofc you got a lot going on so no pressure at all to write more of it because you already fed us SO FUCKIN WELL OMG! But i can fully say i went nuts over what you wrote like the idea is sooooo delicious, and the buildup/tension is a lot of fun! Also sorry im gonna drop a headcanon that just came to me but imagining soap coming back from the mission (successful duh) and like maybe they dont let him have the reader right away, they put him back in the adjoining cell and tell him "tomorrow" and soap just sits on his bed maybe worn out from the mission, and he just STARES at you all night long. Has the scariest fucking smile on his face. The BUILDUP i tell you THE BUILDUP 😭😭😭😭😭 anyway again this isnt pressure to write more that idea just came to me while i was writing this ask lolll. Okay im done have a good day!!!

no but your brain is fucking humongous.

i love love love a really good build up of tension and oh my god. Soap looking forward to getting you to himself throughout that whole mission only to find out that for some unexplained reason, he's not allowed you. maybe they want to keep him in top form for something they have planned for the next day - whatever the reason, he's put back in his cell even after being hosed down (not like an actual hose lmao just imagine a super industrial shower or something idk).

he sits still in his cell all night staring at you, just absolutely bricked up. he's still dripping from his shower and clothes roughly put on; he keeps clenching his jaw and swallowing whenever you move, eyes tracking you like a hound. he doesn't say a word but you already know that tomorrow is going to be bad when they finally let him in.

[leatherbookmarking]

(woke up, had a thought, bon appetit)

A CONCEPT: meng yao is acknowledged as jgs’ son post-sunshot, but he stands one cm to the left/jgs is feeling funky today/someone performs a Rumor/jgs looks at jiggy and thinks “oh he is up to do Things and Stuff. unacceptable”

and it soon goes from “look at my shiny new son committing war crimes for me!” to “look at my shiny sonDOES ANYONE (a man) WANT TO MARRY HIM SO HE’S OUT OF MY HOUSE (and into your house, reader, who is Male, because my son likes Men)”

it doesn’t matter that in any other circumstances jin guangshan would rather eat his shoes than let his children marry Down (well, there’s no cutsleeves amongst the four great, so u gotta do what u gotta do right) and that jiggy is, in fact, humbly not limiting himself to just men; the point is it has to be humiliating, and fast

and humiliating it is, because the clans that tentatively r...raise their hands? are really small, unknown clans with little power and just as little money. in addition, the rumors that start circulating are also rather interesting, in the worst sense (have you HEARD about that jin-er-gongzi? after jin-zongzhu showed him kindness and appreciation, he started to plot something to gain more power, could you believe that? the audacity! he should be thankful they’re willing to marry him off, in jin-zongzhu’s place, oh, i’d kick him down the jinlintai stairs!), so jiggy is pretty much just spending his days going what the fuck! what the fuck! in his head

when nmj and lxc hear about it they’re like ...can they do that?, except lxc says it exactly like that, and nmj follows it with what did he do (lxc sends him a gently pained look). when nmj is still wondering about that, lxc has already jumped on the do something! boat, figuring out which clan, from the better ones, would be willing... but no, that sounds like a-yao was something to get rid of, he deserves the best... there’s wei wuxian from the jiang clan, but they’d probably rather... not to mention... oh, but there’s huaisang, he--oh, no, but you told a-yao to go away and never come back... well, considering the circumstances... but that way huaisang would be happy, and you could personally oversee what a-yao’s doing...

lxc mutters on a little bit more before nmj blinks out of the stupor (meng YAO? in MY house? married to MY brother?), but when he does, he simply scoffs and interrupts him mid-word, saying well if the l a n  s e c t thinks so kindly of him, why not marry him yourselves? for a second, lxc looks very much like a deer in the headlights, had the headlights been a thing, but then he quickly snaps out of it. oh, wangji... i think they’re not total opposites, personality and humor-wise, but he... mingjue? why are you looking at-- oh. oh, i can do that? oh. i can do that.

he, then, proceeds to do that, in which that means personally arriving at jinlintai to ask for jiggy’s hand in marriage, to which jiggy reacts with internal what the fuck!!! what the fuck!!! (with a lot of feeling) and jgs, with internal kill bill sirens; he then performs a complicated political gymnastic routine to peeeeerhaps ? discourage lxc from pursuing his son, well, lan-zongzhu, aren’t you expected to have heirs? from what i know--

to which lan xichen responds with unending kindness that please don’t worry about this matter, jin-zongzhu. jin guangyao makes an audible noise.

and after that i guess they marry? and then, because i’m a cliche bastard, PINING. oh i see, he only married me out of mercy, i am going to act accordingly about that even though it’s going to hurt me personally because i think i would die for him vs oh, he thinks i married him out of mercy, i should show him somehow that i didn’t! etc, etc, ft. how do i show my lawfully wedded husband that i’m in love with him?, nie mingjue experiencing 50 shades of exasperation, lan wangji squinting in the general direction of jin guangyao a lot, ROMANCE! POETRY! ROMANTIC USES OF GUQIN! PINES and PINING, and PLUM BLOSSOMS in the SPRING! and so on

[nailsinmouth]

I loved The Toll [2021], such an excellent horror movie but the part that I liked the most was that (SPOILERS) at the end the Uber driver turned out to be a murderer - just as the girl thought from the very begging.

I feel like the Main Narrative for abuse victims and r*pe victims is: you lost your ability to trust people because you were hurt, your worries and bad gut feelings are mostly paranoia and unreliable because of your experiences and the Most Important Life Lesson you can get out of a movie about people like you is: re-learn to trust! Re-learn to love! Re-learn to let people in!

And I do get why some of that is important and some ppl probably need this message. BUT. Victims of abuse have EXPERIENCE. Their gut feelings are very often there because they have an ability to detect red flags and manipulative or dangerous vibes exactly due to their traumatic experiences - they saw it before. They recognize it.

But then the first thought is to IGNORE it because 'Im just traumatized and therefore all my gut feelings are just me being overly sensitive, I need to trust ppl again!'.

But experience is not paranoia and being able to recognize or notice something, bc you were exposed to it before, is not irrational or panicky.

And you know what? This is the first movie I ever saw that framed those feelings of an abuse survivor as legitimate, valid and TRUE. She had a feeling, because she had experience which made her skilled at Noticing Some Stuff and she was RIGHT.

I mean, I'm sure movies like that exist, I just never saw them. But I saw a shit ton of 'oh you have bad gut feels about a dude bc someone hurt you? Well you need to be fixed, learn to trust this man! Happy ending!' And it was just sooo incredibly refreshing to see the opposite.

And I think it’s really needed. Bc I have saw tons of victims of abuse (mostly on online forums for such topics) that are entering a second/third/fourth abusive relationship, and they do have all those alarms going off in their head, like Kill Bill sirens, but they ignore it, bc they think 'oh it's just the trauma talking'. And they write down all those alarming, awful things their new dude did with a ‘tell me if I’m over reacting, bc I think I am!’ message at the bottom and it breaks my fucking heart. Every time.

Their abusers taught them not to trust themselves, and then later the whole main social narration made this lessons sink in even more with all the ‘you need to just re-learn to trust, ignore the badd feels, you are just broken!’ messages.

I mean yeah maybe it is the trauma speaking. Maybe it sometimes has something accurate to say about that one creepy dude tho.

[soulwillower]

separate seas • bill denbrough

(bill denbrough x plus size!reader)   

requested: Hi! Can I request another fic? I was thinking a Bill Denbrough x plus size reader were the reader was Bill’s next door neighbour who survived a Pennywise attack. When the Losers reunite Mike suggests to meet up with the reader because she wants to kill Pennywise the most. She now stutters (much like Bill did) and is very reclusive. It's not a full idea but I think you could write something great! Thanks!

warnings: swearing, fluff, poorly written, unedited

i was going to make it angsty but i just couldn't write it for some reason, im sorry  <3 i dont know how i feel about this, i’ve been trying to write for a while and have been discouraged /feeling bleh abt my writing but i truly hope u guys enjoy this!

[takes place during the events of chapter 2]

2.2k words

♡

bill was floored at the emotions that coursed through him at mike’s words. of course, he was already floored by the sheer amount of information and memories that had taken to his mind like a brick wall to the face - poorly - so why did this brick wall hit so much harder than the other? mike’s words ring in bill’s ears like a church bell.

y/n, we have to go see y/n.

the air of the jade orient becomes increasingly stale and bill has to wipe his face with his forearm. he remembers suddenly a book he’d written nearing ten years prior to this moment, titled the plague of dawn.  it makes him frown in confusion. why did he think of that?

the book wasn’t anything special, in fact it was one of his lowest-grossing novels, despite it being one of his own personal favorites. there was a protagonist who was investigating the death of a young boy, and a mysterious love interest - a woman who was bright but with a troubled past and, from what bill remembers writing, a curvy figure and stunning eyes.

odd to remember that in such a time, but he supposes everything has been odd tonight. but bottom line, it was nothing special. in fact, the novel had been very cheesy, but it had stuck with him in this moment for some unknown reason.

y/n.... bill remembers cloudy memories of a girl with bright eyes and laughter. he sees his house, next to it, a blue one; georgie, with a bright smile, running up to a girl who came out of the garage of the blue house to the left. she hugs him and his arms squeeze around her middle, his face half buried in her soft stomach. he remembers thinking she is beautiful. 

looking around, he sees that the others are slowly remembering her too, but he thinks briefly that they certainly have different memories.

“not that i don’t miss her, but… why y/n?” bev asks. the pieces were falling into place, it seemed, all at the same time in their own heads. “wait. didn’t she go to the hospital for-“ eddie starts rushed, but richie snaps a few times as he speaks up.

“oh, fuck. wait- It. It got her, right? and she survived?” richie says, fingers pressing on his head as he squints. he looks just as pained as bill feels when  memories of her - and of It - fill his senses.

your eyes. your laugh. your hair. your skin. your silhouette. the bedsheets bill would sometimes catch a glimpse of when he looked out his own window. much like the ones he wrote for the plague of dawn’s  - oh.

bill can’t help but drop his head into his palms in realization - had he written a character based off of a repressed memory of a childhood crush? christ.

“…she was bill’s neighbor.” ben adds, looking puzzled. everyone turns to look at bill, and he swallows. “y-uh, y-yeah. i r-remember.” and he does. "sh-she was attacked right at the beginning of the s-summer." it's silent. "she wants It dead more than anyone. we need her help." mike says, standing up.

and then twenty minutes later, bill finds himself on an unfamiliar porch step with five of his childhood friends, staring at an unopened door. why is he so fucking anxious to see her? will she remember him? will she care?

mike has to knock three times before the door opens, revealing a woman that makes bill's breath falter.

“h-holy shit.” the woman mutters, eyes flickering between everyone on her porch step. those eyes. bill would recognize them anywhere. she looks different than he remembers, but more than likely she’s matured just as much as him in the last twenty some years. she looks really good.

"y/n." mike says, giving her a tight-lipped smile. bill watches her, her face even and unrevealing. she doesn't try to hug anybody. there’s a long, staggering scar that pokes through the collar of her shirt, and yes, now bill knows for sure that this is his old neighbor, y/n. 

she seems to have the same eyes, the same face. he wonders briefly if she remembers him the way he remembers her.

“what’s g-going on?” she says, looking suspicious of the group in front of her, eyes flitting over everybody with little to no emotion. it feels like a cool breeze blows down the spine of everyone present. 

bill takes in her figure and swallows, shocked to be seeing her so suddenly. she catches his eyes and recognition flickers in the depths of her face, a small quirk of her lips betraying her menacing stare.

“caroling group.” richie deadpans, bringing everyone back down to the present as his hands are in his pockets and he’s rocking on his heels. bill barely spares a glance behind him to richie as he stares at y/n. does she have a stutter too? she didn’t always have it. the look on her face is mysterious and pained.

"we need your help." mike says, giving her a look. as bill watches her reaction, he can’t help but feel like the seven of them were all swimming in separate seas at the same time, being masked by a false sense of belonging. was this going to work? could they really do it? 

y/n seems to understand grimly, like she feels whatever this is too, as she takes in the faces of people she hadn't seen in years. but then she turns away, walking back into her house. bill blinks.

at first he thinks she's abandoning them, but then she waves her hand expectantly. she does actually invite them in, leaving bill to watch in curiosity as she leads them to a back room in her house, seemingly unwillingly. she seems determined, but not very excited. he doesn't blame her.

they all sit awkwardly as mike and y/n talk about the summer of '89.

"our wh-whole town was full of nightm-mares. not just It." y/n shrugs, the cloud of mystery and self-isolation wrapping her up and pulling her farther and farther out of bill's reach.

"b-bowers." bill says, noticing how y/n's eyes dart to ben's quickly. she and ben went through very similar situations with bowers and the memory of their fucked up childhood makes bill's head spin.

"th-that doesn't matter r-right now." y/n says dismissively, waving her hand. bill stares at the table as he remembers the the character he wrote in the plague of dawn - the love interest had been tormented relentlessly, particularly for her weight.

god, how awful is that? bill didn't even mean to, but he had essentially broadcasted y/n's life into a novel.

“y-you punched him, once.” bill blurts, a laugh escaping his lips. y/n looks at him and for the first time, she looks like her old self, smiling and happy. 

“y-yeah, i suppose i d-did, bill. he d-d-deserved it.” she says, smug look quickly retreating back to the wall of blank emotion. something stirs him on, “you got that r-right. it was inc-credible, that was th-the best thing i’d e-ever seen. i was o-obsessed with y-you.” 

its silent and bill realizes what he just said.  “well this is awkward.” richie says with a grin, nudging both ben and eddie’s sides. they just give him a look. y/n’s smirking at the table and bev is grinning at bill with a knowing look. 

"-we're going to kill It." mike says, voice wavering only slightly, breaking the tension. and just like that, the moment is over. bill shivers but he nods, looking over richie, to eddie, to bev, then ben, mike, and finally y/n.

"yeah, well. f-fighting I-It wasn't too easy, i'm sure you kn-know." y/n says shortly, her fingers ghosting over the scar on her chest. bill's stomach flutters with something between fear and admiration. he remembers - she doesn't have to say it. they're all remembering.

she had been outside in the ravine down the street by herself when pennywise had found her. bill remembers sirens, he remembers the blood as she stumbled across the street towards their houses. he remembers watching her get carried to the hospital and then riding silver down to the clubhouse to tell the others. he doesn't remember much else from that summer, just a whole lot of pain and fear. but he remembers not hearing her voice much, or seeing her nearly at all those days. he had missed her, but he'd never said anything.

the bubbly girl was not quite there anymore.

she speaks up and immediately pull bill's attention from his thoughts. "but this time, we're a-all going to b-be together. It is g-going to die."

after the conversation and getting y/n to agree (which wasn't very hard, she was very determined), bill was left with a bitter taste in his mouth and a pit in his stomach. it was weird being back in derry, and catching y/n's eye, he could tell she thought it was weird for them to be back too.

bill was exhausted and thought he might be sick, head swirling around with images of the jade of the orient, of stan, of pennywise, and georgie. he feels empty, and so he can’t help himself from asking y/n to come back and grab a drink at the townhouse.

he needs a distraction, or something. something. 

she had shaken her head, but instead taken him by the elbow and told him she had a full bottle of scotch in her cabinet. he was shocked to receive an invitation to stay longer at the reclusive y/n’s house, considering how withdrawn she’d been (understandably) this whole time, but he eagerly told the others he would see them back at the townhouse. he ignores richie when he makes lewd gestures through the window as they all leave.  

when they’re in her house alone, she places what is indeed a full bottle of unopened, aged scotch on her table unceremoniously as her hair shines in the lamplight and her clothes cling to her shape.

he tries not to linger his eyes on her body but can’t help to admire her curves and how soft her skin looks as she places a glass in front of him, pouring out three fingers, no rocks.

he doesn’t flinch, completely intending on finishing this glass and then some if he’s going to do this whole fucking thing.

"it’s from the t-trauma." she says and he blinks at her, confused. she smirks lightly, as if mocking herself. "the stutter." she elaborates, and he nods slowly. he understands that.

"m-mine came back wh-when i did." he explains. it’s quiet again and he watches as she pours her own glass. he’s slightly thrown off as he watches her move the bottle over to set it on top of a stack of paperback novels. he skims the stack, his eyes catching bold lettering: THE PLAGUE OF DAWN.

he almost laughs, but his stomach  coils tightly with something akin to embarrassment.

his body carries him to pick the book up, plopping back down after it's clutched in his hands. “d-did you read this?” he asks, looking at her with a raised brow.

she grins, not looking a single bit ashamed. “y-yeah, i did.”

well, fuck. 

“the m-main character, it’s…” he starts, unsure how to say it. but she never left, she never forgot anything - did she notice? 

she nods slowly, face flushing. “i’ve talked with mike long en-enough to know you didn’t remember me wh-when you w-wrote it. i just… i can’t help but n-notice…”

“it’s you, y/n. i d-didn’t- i don’t think i really kn-knew it then. wh-when i wrote it, i kn-knew i was writing about my ch-childhood, i just- i didn’t realize…i’m s-sorry.”

“i know.” she says simply and there it is again, the mysterious shroud that prevents bill from knowing y/n y/l/n fully. its awkward for a moment, and then : “did you at least l-like it?”

she cracks a grin as she sips on her scotch. she’s beautiful and it makes bill blush almost like he’s 13 again and completely unsure how to flirt with this woman.

“well, i don’t know. y-you killed me off, b-bill. wh-who kills off the l-love interest before they get any c-closure?” she says, lifting a brow. bill can’t help the sheepish grin nor the blush from creeping onto his face. 

"its f-fucked!" she adds. he can't help but huff a laugh, feeling eerily similar to how he used to feel when he was young. and he was okay with that.

“n-no it isn’t- i just, i- people l-loved it, okay.” he defends half-heartedly, knowing it to be untrue. she laughs openly at this, watching him as he thumbs through the pages of his own words, looking embarrassed.

“it’s so c-cute that you think that, b-bill.” she says coyly. he looks up from the book then, a grin of his own on his face as his cheeks dust pink. she’s pulling his leg. 

"you- er, i just c-can't believe th-this all happened." he mutters, scratching his head. she lifts a brow and it flusters him again so he tries to add on. "and i wish th-that i hadn't forgotten it. y-you, particularly." his words come out awkwardly and he feels like a dumbass.

“p-poetic, denbrough.” she grins, hands grabbing his shoulders gently. he grins at her, raising his hands to her shoulder and another to her waist, squeezing the soft skin. he shrugs, "what can i s-say, i-"

and then before he can add anything more, she closes the gap, leaning to press her lips against his. it's soft at first, as if being gentle after the black hole of trauma they are soon to reopen. 

it’s bold and shocking and surprising. 

but bill moves his lips against hers and they both come to life, kissing fiercely as the world stops around them. there's pain in the kiss, there's devastation, there's fear. but there’s also light, there's love. he feels it all as she kisses him.

when they pull apart, bill looks at her with wide eyes. "that was- unexpected." he says as she stares up at him. he can't tear his eyes away from her and she shrugs, staring back in shock,"i-i’m sorry." she says quickly, hands still holding her face. she stares up at him, "d-did i fuck it up, th-though?"

she looks like she already knows the answer but wants to hear him say it for himself.

he shakes his head, "d-don’t think so, y-y/n." he pulls her in for another kiss and she sighs into his mouth, holding him tightly.

 there’s still a looming sense of dread over their heads, staring down at them with its ugly impending danger. but he has her in his arms and he can’t believe it. 

and maybe, it'll be okay. maybe these separate seas aren’t too different. 

[lyxxstories]

WiFi

[ You and Jeonghan are waiting for Seungcheol to come back to the dorm so in the meantime you two try to use his wifi ] [ d r a b b l e ]

“How long is he gonna be out for?” You whined as you slumped back on the living room couch.

“Miss him already?” Jeonghan said with a smirk.

“Psh no,” You denied as you get comfy with the pillows to which you earned an eyebrow raise from him. “Okay maybe I wish he’d be back soon.”

“Thought so,”

“Hey can I know the password for the wifi?” You asked, bringing out your phone.

Who knows how long Seungcheol is going to be out for? Might as well surf through the net to kill time.

“Gonna stalk his instagram account again?” Jeonghan replied scooching next to you.

“No...”

“Please, Y/N. You’re not exactly subtle,” Jeonghan says grabbing your phone. “Shall I log in to your S.Coups fan account?”

“Give me that!”

Jeonghan laughs, stretching his arm away from you, “I thought you wanted the password?”

You stuck your tongue out at him, “It’s not a fan account. It’s just... a space... for me to you know... support the leader of Seventeen. Is that too bad?”

“Of course not. No way,” Jeonghan reassures patting your back. “Seungkwan and I follow you and we absolutely love the content.”

Your eyes widen and Jeonghan just laughed at your expression again.

“You did not-‘’

He did.

“Want me to quote the latest tweet?”

You just gave him a glare, “Hurry up and put the password in.”

“Okay okay,” he says typing away. “But I do think he should update his ig too.”

“Jeonghan please!” You exclaimed hitting his annoying face with a pillow. You could already feel your face heating up.

Note to yourself: Start a new stan account.

“Huh.” Jeonghan froze staring at your phone.

“What?”

“That’s weird.”

“What is?” You said taking a look at your phone. “You dont know your own wifi password?”

Jeonghan hands it back to you, “It’s Seungcheol’s wifi. And it seems that I actually don’t.”

You looked at his confused expression. Seemingly, the angel questions himself on not knowing.

“But why?”

Jeonghan just shrugs, “He bought it for his gaming stuff. Something about needing fast internet- I dont know.”

“Well that’s great,” You sighed, letting yourself fall back on the couch again. “What am I supposed to do now?”

Jeonghan shakes his head, still in thought. He was sure he got the password right considering he’s been mooching off Seungcheol’s wifi for a few weeks now.

The leader probably found out and changed it again. The dedication he and Wonwoo have with online games, he’ll never know.

“Wonwoo-yah!” Jeonghan shouts across the room.

“What?” Wonwoo answers just as loud.

“What’s the wifi password?” Jeonghan asks when the younger walked over. “Y/N wants to use it.”

“No way,” Wonwoo immediately denied. “Sorry, Y/N. The wifi is for gaming purposes only.”

“You dont know either huh?” You replied knowingly.

“Not a clue,” Wonwoo sighs before sitting next to you. “He wanted to focus on working out one day and decided that he’ll only tell me the password if I agreed to be his gym partner.”

“Well that sucks,” you pouted. “I can’t just sit here without internet. Who knows what’s happening right now?”

“Well we could always guess,” Jeonghan says stealing your phone again.

“I swear to God if you’re doing this just so you can snoop on my account-‘’

Jeonghan put a hand on his chest, feigning hurt, “Why I just dont want you to be bored, Y/N.”

You rolled your eyes at him. You could practically see the devil horns growing from his blonde hair.

“Oh hyung, you still havent sent me Y/N’s fan account,” Wonwoo reminded causing you to gasp.

“You told him too?!”

“Don’t act so surprised,” was all the devil angel said as he guesses another password.

“You have nothing to worry about,” Wonwoo told you. “We wont tell your little crush on our leader.”

“I trust you but not him,” you said pertaining to Jeonghan, who btw has been getting slightly frustrated as all his guesses turned out to be incorrect.

“Ugh. Why did he have to change it? Cant we all just share the wifi?” Jeonghan says giving up.

“Let me try,” Wonwoo says asking for the phone. “He might have used an avatar name for a password.”

Several attempts later...

“Screw it,” Wonwoo throws your phone back. “I’m buying my own wifi and play.”

“So much for trying to kill time,” you sighed and frowned at the situation.

Just then an idea popped into Jeonghan’s mind.

“Y/N, try this,” Jeonghan then started to whisper a bunch of letters as you typed away on your phone.

“Wait a minute...” you paused for a second. “You’re just spelling my name!”

“So?” A smirk grows on Jeonghan’s lips.

“You’re not actually suggesting that-‘’

“Worth a shot,” he simply replied, smile growing.

You looked at him incredulously. There’s absolutely no way.

“Why would I be his wifi password?”

“Why not?” Wonwoo joined in. “He probably thought of you as he was changing it.”

Thought of you? But why? What does that suppose to mean?

“We’re just trying out possible passwords here, Y/N.” Jeonghan spoke again. “It’s not like it would mean something. Not unless you want it to.”

There he goes again. With that smug of a look.

“Why dont we go for your name then?”

“Oh sure. But right after yours.”

It’s strange to you how confident suddenly Jeonghan seems to be. And thats probably because he noticed that you’re not the only one who’s being obvious when it comes to a crush. Someone was especially excited today when he found out you were visiting.

“If it makes you feel better, we could try my name too.” Wonwoo said having the same teasing smirk on his face.

Jeonghan wasnt alone on noticing it either and they both knew as they exchanged looks.

“Fine,” you finally pressed enter. Both of the boys leaning closer to see the phone screen. “But I’m telling you guys, it’s not going to-‘’

“Well would you look at that,” Jeonghan chuckles.

It connected.

“I’m going to get my laptop,” Wonwoo says standing up. “Finally, I can try out the new game I bought.”

A few minutes later, Seungcheol finally got back and was welcomed with his three friends chilling at the living room and on their devices.

“I brought food,” Seungcheol called out as he places the plastic bag on the kitchen counter.

“Thanks,” Jeonghan got up and head towards the counter to take a peek of the snacks. “You were out for awhile.”

“Well when I heard Y/N was coming over, I went to get food from her favorite restaurant,” Seungcheol informed. “And you guys know how far that is.”

“Oh we do,” Jeonghan smirks as he shot you a knowing glance. You blushed and tried to hide your face with your phone.

“Yes!” Wonwoo exclaimed, a proud smile on his lips.

“What’s he so happy about?” Seungcheol asks, walking closer to them.

“He’s just having a winning streak,” Jeonghan answered.

“Yep,” Wonwoo acknowledged finally looking up from his laptop. “Wifi has a great connection. Thanks for buying this, hyung.”

“Wait...” Seungcheol took a look at his device and he really was playing.

How did he get in?

“Yah! Did you hack your way in?” Seungcheol crossed his arms.

“No,” Wonwoo snickers. “I’m not that intelligent. I just simply entered the password.”

“Enter the pass-? Jeonghan!” The angel was just smiling innocently. “Did you tell him?!”

“Only you know the password to your own wifi, Seungcheol.” Jeonghan said as a matter of a fact.

“Yeah but you’re the only one who’s been trying to mooch off my wifi for the past weeks.” Seungcheol huffed, feeling slightly irritated. “I wouldn’t be surprised if you tried to enter again.”

“As much as I’d love to take credit,” Jeonghan says. “But it wasn’t me who entered the password.”

“Then who did?”

Jeonghan just now used his eyes to tell him the answer. As Seungcheol followed his gaze, he felt his heart race when he saw you sitting on the couch, phone in hand, and scrolling through social media.

You were seriously trying to keep yourself from turning red the minute his eyes landed on you.

“Y-you got the password right?” Seungcheol stammered as he clarified.

“More like she’s the password,” Wonwoo teased quietly.

“Well sort of...” You coughed awkwardly. “Sorry.. I got bored while waiting for you so we all started to guess.”

Cue Kill Bill sirens because Seungcheol is now internally panicking.

“S-so you know?” Seungcheol clarified and you nodded slowly.

“I know,” you answered, biting your lip.

“Yep and everyone in the group chat knows too,” Jeonghan added which earned him a glare from the leader. “What? We should all share the wifi, dont you think?”

“Th-that’s f-fine,” Seungcheol tried to laugh it off, doing his best not to snap at Jeonghan. Two of the svt members were trying to retain their laughter as their leader struggled to speak. “Hahahahaha as long as you weren’t bored while I was gone, Y/N. Hahahahaha.”

“Seungcheol I-‘’

“C-could you excuse me for a second? I need to take a breather.”

And with that Seungcheol dashed to his bedroom, determined to not let his cool wash away in front of you.

“Well that was entertaining,” Jeonghan stated, the lopsided smile never leaving his face. “So are you gonna tell him about your fan account or...?”

[onestowatch]

REI AMI Is the Saddest, Baddest Bitch [Q&A]

The first time I came across REI AMI it was not through a well-intentioned pitch e-mail or by way of an eerily well-calculated Spotify algorithm. It was during an interview with FINNEAS, the sole producer and brother to Bille Eilish, and it was during that conversation above Hollywood Forever cemetery that I came to discover what exactly excited him so much about the up-and-coming artist with only three singles to her name. 

At her core, REI AMI is an artist of duality quite like no other. It is not a duality carefully explored through a large body of work or multiple online personas but one expressed with a reckless abandon, often in less than three-minute outbursts. REI AMI takes the appeal of Gen Z’s distaste for strict genre conventions and sees just how far she can push it. "

MAKE IT MINE,” her debut single, opens in haunting fashion, painting a transfixing picture of ominous pop perfection. Yet, on the same track, we are introduced to an entirely differently REI AMI. Gone is the siren with her cutthroat delivery. Instead, we are thrown down the rabbit hole, left to dance a psychedelic waltz that quickly sputters out of existence. The effect is all the more pronounced on “SNOWCONE,” which balances an impressive chaotic bravado and acoustic melancholic bedroom pop with inimitable ease.  

I had the chance to speak to REI AMI, on the set for an upcoming music video, about Sailor Moon, living a double life, and the importance of being both a sad and bad bitch. 

Ones To Watch: Who is REI AMI?

REI AMI: REI AMI is me. I grew up watching a lot of Sailor Moon. There are two characters, Sailor Mars and Sailor Mercury. Sailor Mars, her name is Rei, she's like the more hot-headed, very direct, blunt, bad bitch. Then there's Sailor Mercury, Ami, and she's still a bad bitch but like, she's more sweet and sensitive and reserved, and I thought those two characters best represented like, the two polar sides of my personality. I was like this is it! REI AMI sounds so dope. I have an emotional attachment to it. There's value in that and also it just represents duality. It's not having to choose between this or that. It's about embracing both and I feel like I can do that in my music. The transitions, they make sense because I can go from twerking to crying (laughter). Bad bitch to sad bitch, you know?

This idea of duality, from your name to your music, is outright impossible to ignore. 

REI AMI, this is who I am, I don't have to pick and choose just like, let's fucking go. With "MAKE IT MINE," "SNOWCONE," and "DICTATOR," they all have transitions, so those are like straight REI AMI tracks. Some currently unreleased songs that I have are straight REI tracks or AMI tracks, and if I want to do both it's REI AMI. But I know that, especially with "SNOWCONE," my producer Elie and I wanted a drastic switch-up because I go through highs and lows, and I'm not alone in that. 

“I want you to feel, and I want you to go from twerking, being a bad bitch to knowing it's okay to be sad. It's okay to be a bad bitch and still be sad.”

I think it's a very human experience that everyone deals with, and I thought it would be really important and really cool to sonically represent that and allow my listeners to experience what I go through on a daily basis. The reception it's gotten and the DMs from people telling me how much it meant to them was like the most validating, rewarding thing, because shit like, my song made you feel some type of way. That's the goal. I want you to feel, and I want you to go from twerking, being a bad bitch to knowing it's okay to be sad. It's okay to be a bad bitch and still be sad.

Yeah, it really gave me the vibe of this girl killing it at the club and then going home and crying in her pillow.

Yes! Like, "Ugh, I hate my life!" Shit like that, we all go through it.

I discovered you in relatively unconventional fashion. FINNEAS, who loved your production—

—and co-signed the fuck out of me!

Yeah, it was an immediate co-sign! He was like, "I only have one One to Watch right now, and it's REI AMI."

Oh my God, I'm fucking dead. I just... What the fuck is going on in my life? Like, of all the people, the first song I ever heard from Billie was "COPYCAT," and I've been following her since. She's obviously a worldwide superstar, and FINNEAS, they work exclusively together, so that story was already so beautiful and appealing, and that's very much like my producer and I. I work mainly with one collaborator because it works. You know, don't fix what's not broken. Obviously, I'm open-minded to working with other people, but what we have is so special, and I feel like I really see that in Billie and FINNEAS' relationship. So, it was just a very validating thing to get it from FINNEAS. From all of the people, FINNEAS was like, "Yes, REI AMI is that bitch!" Thank you FINNEAS, thank you for understanding!

How did you start making music with your producer?

So, freshman year of college, which was like 5 years ago, so I've been recording and writing for five years. I didn't release anything up until this year just because I felt that I wasn't ready, and I was still trying to figure out who I was and what kind of message I wanted to spread. You know, I was a dumb bitch, and I was making a lot of sad, heartbreak R&B songs, because I thought that's what people wanted to hear. R&B is the new pop, I love R&B, and I grew up on it. I was playing it so safe. I wasn't taking risks. And for the longest time, I wasn't having fun making music. Then I went through some real fucked up shit in my life earlier this year that spiraled me out of control and put me in a bad place both mentally and physically. I wanted to quit. I was like, "I haven't released shit so it doesn't fucking matter, no one's going to know or care." But then Elie was like, “No, pull up.” 

I went to the studio, I got shitfaced, and he started making a beat. I had a hook written down and it ended up being "MAKE IT MINE." And the weird breakdown in between was because I was so shitfaced and he intentionally did that so I would stumble on it because he wanted to know what drunk REI would say, and that's what happened. We shot the video the same night—he literally got up from his producer desk and was like "Uh, so do you want to shoot the video tonight?" I was like, "Say less." 

“Why would you want to make another song that sounds like 10 other songs out there? No, just fucking be you. There is no recipe, there is no equation.”

I love it! It feels so organic—all of your music does. 

Literally, it's just us fucking around and bullshitting. And that's how it should be. That session was the most fun I've had in years, and that's when I realized like if you're not having fun writing, recording, if you're not enjoying the process, you need to step back and re-evaluate your whole fucking approach. Like, what's wrong? What's good? And for the first time in such a long time, I felt so... myself. And take to mind, the production sonically, everything, is very left-field from what I was making, so I initially did not like the song. I was like this is so different, this is so weird. But then I was like wait, this is how it should be. Why would you want to make another song that sounds like 10 other songs out there? No, just fucking be you. There is no recipe, there is no equation. Fuck the equation, fuck what you want to hear. I want to make the shit that I want to listen to on the daily, on repeat for a week at a time.

I think that’s exactly what Billie and FINNEAS strove to do, and it seems like that’s where you’re headed with your music. There's no one else out there where I've been like, "Shit, she's a pretty good rapper," right before throwing me into a sad bedroom pop spiral.

Yeah! And I love hip-hop, I really got into it in high school when my friend put me onto Kendrick’s Section.80. I don't know much about that genre, because there's so much to learn and so much that I need to understand and really dive into and study, but Section.80, in terms of storytelling and his vocal abilities, like Kendrick is not just a rapper, he's a vocalist. The way he delivers vocally was so new to me, and it had such an impact on me. So, I've always been a huge fan of rap and hip-hop but I never thought I could do this until this year. 

With "DICTATOR," when I first wrote it, I had gotten my wisdom teeth taken out and I was high as fuck on Vicodin and I was like, "You know what, Imma fucking spit bars because I feel crazy right now." The first half of "DICTATOR" was all written by myself, me in my room, high as fuck. I ripped a beat off of YouTube, I was like, "I'm going in!" and then I sent it to Elie and he was like "Pull up this weekend, it'll be produced out and we'll re-record it, and that's what happened.”

What does your day-to-day life look like compared to this crazy music life?

(laughter) I am Hannah Montana. I have a full-time day job and they have no idea. I work for a custom packaging company and our biggest client is Sephora, so I oversee all of their international and domestic programs. It's a nine-to-five, but it's such a lax company that I can do music and be here and be places, but they have no idea. I'm the youngest in the company by like... a lot! So like they're not going to be like, "Hey girl, what's your Instagram, like add me!" (laughter) Like no one's doing that shit. They think I'm just chilling in LA.

So, what's next for you?

So I have a series of singles coming out next year with videos and then there's a fuller length project—a mixtape dropping around May-June, followed by some live shows. It's crazy, a lot of people are like, "When are you going on tour? When are you performing? I want to see you live!" And as much as I want to perform, I want to get it right. And being the neurotic person that I am, I'm not going to put on a show that's half-assed. If fans are paying money and coming, giving me their time, I want to make sure it's worthwhile and the energy I give out, I want it reciprocated. As much as I hate making them wait, like, hey, good things take time and I promise you, it's going to be such a wild experience. I'm so excited like, oh my God I cannot wait!

With 2019, coming to an end, what was your favorite thing about the 2000s?

Well, okay, I'm sorry but early 2000s pop and music in general I mean come on, the classics like "Milkshakes," 50 Cent’s "Candy Shop," "Moneymaker" by Ludacris and Pharrell, the Pussycat Dolls, Fergie, old The Black Eyed Peas, you know. I think that obviously molded my sound like you know, Missy Elliot and Destiny's Child and Beyonce—oh God when she was just rising and becoming that fucking monster you know? I think I miss 2000s music so much, and it always puts me in a good mood.

What's your 2020 resolution or goal?

Okay, I mean I want to do COLORS, I want to do Genius videos, I want to do the Teen Vogue Playlist of Your Life, Pitchfork’s Over/Under, Song Association on Elle. I want to do all of those things because those shows on YouTube are how I found some of my favorite artists. I want to go on tour and I just want world domination. I want to go internationally like, ugh I have so many ideas. I want to release the dopest merch where my dog is the brand mascot. I guess touring would be like the ultimate, whether I go on a headlining tour or a supporting tour. Just to be able to go out there on the road and meet my fans. That's an experience I've never had, and I'd love for 2020 to be the year where I do that.

What's the one thing you wish you could tell 18-year-old REI AMI?

Stop giving a fuck. Just stop. At the end of the day, if you're not happy doing what you're doing, especially when it comes to the music, stop, grow the fuck up and do what you want. Fuck what other people have to say. It took a long time for me to get there, and I believe synchronicity is very much real and timing is everything, but I just wish I cared a lot less about people and their opinions of me. Be a boss bitch! Goddammit! Stop being a little bitch. That's exactly what I would say. "Stop being a little bitch, bitch!"

Who are your Ones to Watch?

Ant Saunders. Ant fucking Saunders. His voice is fucking incredible. "Yellow Hearts." I haven't been able to stop listening to that. It just puts me in such a good, uplifted, happy mood. His voice is just so rich and so mature.

[fruityfang]

Fang

three.

anonymous bella.

trigger warnings; mentions of r*pe/sexual assault, 

chapter one | chapter two

“So you could pick up the phone for your girlfriend but not me?”

The moonlight shined through the wall tall windows and shined against Luciel’s skin. His face wore a mask of shock, body identical to being paralyzed. Shaking his head to bring his nerves back to life, he powered off his phone and glanced towards the door where his mother stood. It was nearly three in the morning, but instead of looking exhausted she looked wide awake. As if she had a whole pot of coffee. She stood straight, her hair in a tight bun as if it was another day in the office. The only unprofessional thing about her, was the fact she wore a grey sweater that reached down to her knees.

“You keep me awake at night, son with you worrying me. I have to drive across damn town to come to your law office just to make sure you aren’t dead.”

Luciel grabbed his grey jacket to slide it over his half clothed half exposed arms and quickly walked over to his mother who looked unimpressed with her arms crossed. “I am sorry, ma. And that wasn’t… my girlfriend, just a friend.” He apologized and leaned down to press an apologetic kiss to her cheek. “And why have you not made a move yet, young man?” She teased with a serious tone and an arched curious brow.

The worried man sighed exasperatedly as he attempted to scramble a quick explanation. Elise needed him, he knew that, but his mother would not leave until she got some sort of explanation. “Ma, she is a woman, kinda woman. You know what I’m saying?” He paused, awkwardly chuckling and cleared his throat awkwardly, not ready to tell his mother what nearly tipped from his tongue.

“Then be a good friend, a wingman, find her a wife. You need to apologize to Luca, she was expecting you to be there today.”

“Shit –“

“Language.” Luciel’s mother’s tone was a warning shot. She was much shorter then him, looked to be a frail, young woman but still intimidated the hell out of him. Luciel nodded in defeat. “I will visit her as soon as I can, probably Tuesday. But I really, really have to go.”

His mother didn’t reply. Just shook her head and turned herself around to walk to the elevator. Disappointment lingered her being, Luciel’s mind ate it up. She was disappointed in him. “Wait,” Luciel reached into his pocket and pulled out his black wallet, quickly opening it and grabbing three fifty dollar bills and shoving it towards his mother. “Before you see Luca tomorrow, buy her something she’s been on your tail for.” Not saying a goodbye to his mother, he quickly ran down the stairs and his mother watched him curiously, but took the money and stepped into the elevator.

 Luciel raced down the stairs and rushed out the office doors – left unlocked, for his mother to get out and got into his white car. Heavy rain fell from the sky and a light wind brought shivers to the lawyer. He shoved his hands back into his pockets to search for the car keys and for temporary warmth. He scrambled for a few moments.

“Fuck, where are my damn keys?” The curse was almost a miracle as he checked the pockets in his jacket next, finding his keys one of the hidden pockets. Letting out a quick sigh of relief, he immediately started his car, watching the radio blink to life and listening to the engine start to roar. He quickly began driving off into the night towards Elise’s apartment.

  Speeding down the highway, his phone began to ring and vibrated around in his cup holder. Groaning, he decided to answer it without looking at who it is – believing it was Elise. “El, I’ll be there in one second –“ A chuckle came off from the other line. “I… I am not Elise, beloved. Although I do wish I had her hips and ability to babysit you and other disasters.” The joking tone of his fiancé nearly made him feel at ease and a relived sigh left him.

“Hi, Jack.” He simply greeted. The calm that flowed through his voice was the opposite of his frantic speeding.

His fiancé scoffed. “Darling, I know you are a simple man but could you not spice it up for the love of your life?”

Luciel’s speeding was put to a sudden halt when he heard police sirens after him. He cursed and pulled over to the side of the empty road. Jack scoffed again. “You got pulled over?” He predicted knowingly. “Mhm. Look, I’ll call you later and we can do whatever you’d like tomorrow. Love you, bye.” He didn’t wait for Jack to tell him he loved him back or for a sarcastic remark ‘I’m gonna be gone by the time you come back to this house, boy,’ he quickly pressed hang up and dropped his phone to the passenger seat.

He sat there, his impatience rising with each minute that passed with no officer coming to greet him, give him a ticket, the usual procedure. Luciel tapped his fingers on his steering wheel, biting the inside of his cheek.

10 minutes pass, no police officer. Luciel almost began to worry, he quickly glanced into his side mirror and didn’t see anything suspicious – since it was pitch black. A groan of annoyance left him. He quickly decided and got out of his car, leaving the door wide open. Luciel held his forearm over his face and turned it to shield himself from the harsh combination of the rain and wind. When at the officer’s window, he bent down and began to almost beg for the ticket.

“Look – officer, I know I was driving like a madman. Could you please just give me my ticket? I’m not going to fight you for it, just give me my-“

That’s when he noticed, there was nobody in the car.

His eyebrow arched in confusion and he looked both left and right before leaning up and walking cautiously around the car. His questions soon turned to a gory discovery and answers bloomed from paranoia. In the muddy ditch where flowers bloomed from – was a body. A man wearing a police uniform, his communication device ripped from his chest and his shirt ripped open. His neck was torn open, similar to the bite of a savage animal ripping open its prey when it finally reaches it after chasing for hours.

“Mercy’s balls…” Luciel gasped while covering his nose with his sleeve, terrified to smell the scent of death. The rain patters were loud – but the soft chuckle he heard seconds after discovering the body was louder – and much more terrifying.

He turned around, eyes widening in shock as he sees who stood in front of him. The street light made her more visible. A hood covered her eyes, Luciel could see her red painted lips, nose and large scar painted over her brown left cheek. She stepped forward, walking faster with each step and towards Luciel.

“Do tell me you know who I am.” Luciel shook his head – mentally smacking himself since he then realized she couldn’t see him because of her hood that he predicted was there to protect her identity. Before he could answer, the woman dropped her hood, revealing her identity. Her hair – red, was in a loose bun and hidden in her sweater. Her eyes – a metal grey, were swimming with mischief as her lips tugged into a smirk. “Do tell Vincent you saw me here, mm?” The request confused Luciel even more.

“Who – Hold up, a name would be nice.”

The woman smiled. “Are you not wondering about this unfortunate being?” She walked around Luciel and over to the ditch, crouching down, knees bent as she slightly cocked her head and stared at the vicious bite. “I – Of course not – yes. But you just walk out here, makes me suspect you’re the murderer.

Her answer stunned him. “…And what if I am?” She turned her head, still smiling up at him. This time – the smile was seen in a different light. Luciel gulped. He shouldn’t be nervous, he was used to Vincent admitting he killed some random person that wouldn’t be missed. This woman wasn’t Vincent however, she was somebody else and he couldn’t read her.

“I am the killer. And no, you could not report me to the police since I would be gone within the hour, you’re here too and –“She paused to stick her hand in the bloody bite on the victim’s neck. Luciel cringed at the sight and looked away.

Cold.

He felt cold on his cheek and dripped down to his neck, warmth lingered in it. The blood was still warm, the source of the cold – the woman in front of him. The smile was still on her face. “- because.. you now have his blood on you, poor thing.” She pouted her lip out before softly chuckling.

“Don’t do anything stupid, it would be a waste.”

Luciel groaned, scrambling to wipe the blood off of his cheek and neck with his black sleeve. “Waste of what you crazy woman?!” The shout was stringed into a hiss, cautious so he wouldn’t detect any unwanted attention towards the two. “You are a recourse, Luciel.” She moved her face closer to his, dropping her lips close to his ear and began to whisper. “Vaffus… You love your fiancé, do you not? What was his name? Jack Laranos?” A bomb of fear was thrown into the battlefield of Luciel’s head, yet did not let it show.

He was used to this, petty threats from the opposite team in the courtroom. From the person he was prosecuting, from families. She giggled softly – as if, she was, reading his mind. “Do not think this is some empty threat, but do not fret Luciel. I am not out to hurt you or your fiancé, or your friends.”

“Then what do you want?”

She wasted no time in answering. “Vincent Caslova.”

  Loud thumps echoed from the metal stairs as Luciel desperately rushed up them, his hand gripped on the railing to pulled himself up quicker. There were no shouts from any of the neighbors to keep quiet and that they were attempting to sleep, which he found odd but would question it later.

He finally made it to the apartment. Apartment 109, Elise’s. The door was open which was alarming to him, Elise always had the door shut and bolted. He placed his hand on the gold doorknob and slowly opened it, hearing the creaks. What he saw next was scarred into his mind, screaming bloody murder in his head. His clean dress shoe, now stained with blood and bits of organs that drown in it. A nameless body, laying next to the puddle on it’s back.

His stomach clenched and brought his hand up to his mouth to hold back the possible vomit. “Elise?” He cautiously called out. He closed the door gently and quickly walked away from the body, hearing a flick of something. Predictably, a lighter. He scurries to the bedroom Elise slept in alone, quickly peeking in and saw the witch holding a cigarette to her lips, blood all over her nightgown. Her other hand was in her hair, pulling at it roughly.

“Elise? I’m here?” He was gentle. Even though that was so, Elise still jumped and stared at him horrified then turned her head. “Is this some sort of fucked up dream?”

“Wish it were, I nearly vomited while walking in your place.” Elise flicked the ashes into a plastic black cup on her white dresser. “I think I’d prefer that then the blood and organs of some stranger in my h-..home.” She choked up at the last word. He opened the door further and stepped in, scoffing when he saw the cigarette.

Luciel simply plucked the cigarette out of Elise’s grip and dropped it to the wooden floor, putting it out with it blood stained shoe. Elise was alarmed and annoyed. “What was that for? You aren’t –“

“You know smoke can fuck with your powers, Elise.” He reminded with a stern tone. The witch shook her head and slid to the side, snatching the pack of ‘numerela’ cigarettes that sat on her dresser. She met Luciel’s gaze as she popped open the small box with her hand and pulled out a virgin cigarette with her mouth It rested between a soft bite as she allowed the flames to work the cigarette from the lighter she kept concealed in her bawled up fist this entire time.

Before Luciel could object or attempt to snatch away the cigarette, Elise blew smoke towards his face and gave an explanation. “There is currently a body in my livingroom with their organs pooling out of several of their open wounds.” She exhaled a small puff of smoke. “I don’t enjoy alcohol very much –“

“Ironic since you work as a bartender.”

“Waitress.” She corrected sharply. “Anywho – If I choose to have a cigarette to attempt and distract myself, then I will do so. I’m a big girl, Luciel.”

“And you don’t care if that screws with your powers?” The witch softly chuckled, almost finding the worry from him cute. “No, I don’t. I’ve been alive much longer then you have,” She flicked some of the ashes, snowflaking to the floor. “I will survive a cigarette or two.”

Elise could survive a cigarette, but Luciel noticed she was barely surviving this body crisis now as he could notice she was shivering like a madman. She honestly attempted to keep the visible anxiety down. “Have a seat.” Luciel invited with a hand out on her bed.

She accepted the invitation, taking a seat on the mattress decorated with cream colored bed decorations. The witch quickly resorted to scratch at her arms. “How… How are you so calm about this, Luciel?” Elise was distressed, her face wasn’t a mask of pretending all was okay but it was raw. She was truly mortified.

Luciel sighed softly but decided to tell the truth. “Because I can’t be… be anxious like you right now. It’ll send you into a panic attack. Why… are you not calm though, if I may ask?”

“I’ve seen many things in my lifetime, I suppose –“ Memories slowly began to crack out of their cells and walk out, rebelling in the prison that was Elise’s mind. “ – I’ve seen friends die, I’ve had people cough out and die near me…” She shuddered, cringing at the thought of another corpse near her. “But uh… I- I guess seeing one and not expecting it, then having all their blood and-“ She gasped, eyes clenching shut and scratching at her skin with her unoccupied hand, digging deep enough into her skin blood slowly peeked through and dripped down, small drips.

Luciel observed. “So, every other time you expected it? You expected death?” Elise nodded, softly inhaling her cigarette, and exhaling it to answer. “Yeah, I expected it.”

“Expecting death… You expected death..”

“Yeah, Once… when I was in uh, Whitebridge…” She spoke the word Whitebridge so quietly Luciel nearly missed it, it was a word that horrified her that made all her other words crash down. Luciel made out the fact that this ‘Whitebridge,’ still horrified her. “I held… held my dying friend, gasping for her last breaths and she held my hand tightly. Something she’d never do if she was alive. I wasn’t horrified at that point because…”

Luciel quietly finished. “You expected her death.” Elise didn’t respond – Luciel didn’t need a response by the blank look on her face, it was more then enough. She sat there, remembering the furious, independant yet insightful vampire that she once knew. A stubborn vampire, more stubborn then Vincent, Elise had determined.  She was Elise’s friend in the torturing years in Whitebridge. Darius. “Darius was a fighter, her soul had flames nobody could put out, except for herself.”

The witch no longer made eye contact with Luciel, looking off in a daze past him. She envisioned Darius standing there, what would she look like if her body wasn’t decorated with bruises, cuts, whip lashes? What would she have looked like if her skin was free, was hers? Elise would never know.

Luciel decided to change the subject. “I… I know this may not help, but for future reference – “

“If this happens in the future, I will beg you to kill me.” Luciel chuckled. “We do happen to know a serial killer, you know, the big bad biting vampire with sarcasm as sharp as one of your chef knives?”  

 There was a sudden realization in Elise. “Vincent.” A small gasp, her head shot up, eyes were brimming with small tears. The concerned witch quickly stood up from her bed and threw her cigarette to the ash tray, walking past the kitchen and stood over the body. Luciel quickly followed. “Elise? What are you doing?”

“L-..Luciel…. Check the… wrist of the…t-the.. person…” Her stuttering was worse, proving there was reason to worry here. Besides the fact of the warm corpse on her floor, there was more to it. More to this body and even if the person didn’t matter in their life, why they died was what mattered.

Luciel’s face scrunched up, eyebrows arched, clearly in confusion. Elise glanced at him with a desperate but knowing look, her skin was more flushed then before. “Do it..” She urged desperately, her voice a harsh whisper. The lawyer shut his eyes for a moment and shook his head, sighing out of annoyance. Even so, he crouched down and gently picked up the arm of the dead person. “If I get any damn diseases from this person I will –“ He was interrupted, not by anybody’s words, yet a mark on the dead person’s wrist.

A clear vampire bite, painted around it was a fine, dark shade of red.

“Lipstick.” Luciel determined before gently letting the arm down. To Elise, it was almost as if he was concerned of harming the corpse. The corpse was in

“Lipstick?” Elise laughed out of disbelief, kneeling beside Luciel and held the lifeless wrist in her hand to examine for herself. From Elise’s hands, emerged laces of white transparent magic that traveled up the corpse’s arm. Her normal brown eyes – now blending into the white of the background of her eyes. Drips of red symbolizing blood slowly began to drip down from her eyes, leaking inside of them.

The lawyer felt queasy, turning his attention to the mark on the corpse’s hand instead. “What… the hell is that?” The question was pushed out with hesitance, he was not delivered an answer. The witch remained silent, body still and breath stopping.

“Let me try something, my pretty…”

The subject willingly handed over her wrist, a soft giggle left her lips as a stranger’s lips trailed up her pale arm. The freckled beauty smiled seductively at the woman kissing her wrist, it was as if they made eye contact. A seductive gaze from both persons.

Yet, for the stranger, it was a look of prey and hers was a hunger. No dialogue was exchanged between the two intimate lovers until the woman gasped, staring directly at her now murderer. From her wrist, most her blood had been drank and barely able to stay alive. The assault was stealthy – they must have compelled their lover to keep alive, and a vampire’s compulsion is stronger then death.

The assaulter waited a single moment before a second person entered the vision, clearly called out by the assaulter. A few seconds of dialogue exchanged between the two before the second person thrusted her hand into the chest of the victim, twisting and curling her hand. If the victim was conscious at all – they would have been begging to die.

A simple nod from the murderess was enough to command the new assaulter to powerfully rip their fist down the chest, exposing bones and the beating heart of the victim. Her stomach was pouring blood out now, skin held by threads ripped cruelly.

Elise slowly arrived back, blinking once to have her dark shade of blue eyes return. The white magic slowly dissolved back into her skin, building back into her veins. She rolled her neck before taking a catch a breath and setting the arm down. Luciel sat there, stunned. His eyes were widened, almost popping out of his head, eyebrows arched as high as they could go and his jaw was opened slightly. “What…. In Tunera’s eve was that fucking stunt?” His tone was disbelief, voice at a higher pitch then usual – to emphasize the shock.

“It was a, ah… very exhausting power I have. I can… can view what happened to the deceased.” She explained quietly. She was more distant from Luciel – and closer to the corpse now. The corpse was a person, a woman who believed she would have a lovely, intimate evening with a person she felt a connection with. They would roughly fuck, make slow love or stay up talking till the early hours of the morning. Instead, she was used as bait – as a tool for the murderess and her sidekick’s truly evil trick.

Luciel’s eyes lit up – hope sparked him. “So you know who killed her? That’s it!” Elise shook her head, confirming that what his theory wasn’t true. “I can… only see people I have met before, and I saw the sidekick – “

“There were two of them?”

“Yes. I saw the person who did the dirty work, not the actual brains behind the operation. A coward.” Luciel urged her to confess who the physical person behind the operation was. “Who was it?”

Elise hesitated, lip quivering and her mind pacing fast. A quick millisecond bright thought smacked her, just confess to him. The tale of how she knew the killer spilt from her lips without a second thought. “She… was Aria.”

The lawyer’s eyebrow rose in confusion. “Am I… supposed to know who that is?”

“Caslova.” One puzzle piece attached to the puzzle. Luciel nodded his head for her to continue. “Aria Caslova….” The name was once a fond one, once a person Elise was fond of. “Vincent’s younger sister, I –“ She hesitated, wanted to keep the deeply buried secret to herself. She remained quiet, dead silent before being poked by Luciel.

“You what?” He gently prompted. He was experienced, he did this in the courtroom with reluctant witnesses everyday.

Something ticked.

“I was in love with her! I was in love with her and she was in love with revenge, okay?” The exasperation was clear as a window on a sunny day. Infuriated was a word that summed up how the witch was in that moment. The memory of Aria Caslova haunted her, it hurt her, it broke her every time she remembered how they left off and broke off the loving relationship.

“Revenge…?” Luciel repeated questionably.

Elise gulped nervously and stood up. “I… It’s not my tale to tell. But she’s the one who killed this woman. I don’t know if it was her who set her up at my door, but I assume. The person who actually bit her wrist is an experienced vampire. An experienced killer.”

“Please don’t tell Vincent.” She was ashamed, voice distancing. Luciel nodded hesitantly. “Yeah, yeah it’s all good. Your secret’s safe with me.” Assured Luciel. He gazed at the wrist, noticing the lipstick around the actual bite marks was the same shade as the woman he met earlier. Was she the woman Elise couldn’t see in her vision? He predicted it was, but kept the identity of the woman to himself.

 “Look, are you seriously doing the virgin sacrifice thing? I was being sarcastic! Pick up your phone!” He paused, moaning out of annoyance. “Or leave me hanging and to burn in the fuckin’ light.” Vincent slammed the black door to his car shut and rushed into the apartment building, shielding himself from the moonlight so he wouldn’t have to feel his skin sizzling, eventually burn.

For the first few years of being a vampire, any sort of light from the sun and or moon burnt right through his skin and muscle, exposing his bones. Elise had created a ring that took her years to perfect for him, a first for any witch. He had to wear it near any sun so he would not burn. Eventually, he started to take it off for small periods of time. Being over 200 years old, the burning got easier. The ring connected to a veluma laced vein, also done by the talented witch.

 There was a feeling everything was off – Vincent knew that feeling all too well. There was a ball of something close to fear in his stomach, if he could only feel fear. The vampire had no human emotions, turned off centuries ago.

Arriving at the apartment of Elise, he heard two familiar voices. Relief, something he almost felt as he walked in with a smug look on his face. “Aloha bitches, what is good –“ The whipping of Luciel and Elise’s heads and the body in front of them was enough to silence him – only for him to make another unsuitable comment.

“Was her blood good?” A unsettling suggestion in the form of a question. “Didn’t know you were some sort of cannibal, Elise. That’s my job.”

“Vincent, shut the fuck up and stop being a nirn.” Luciel’s insult did anything but silence the vampire. Vincent chuckled then leaned against the doorframe with his shoulder. “I could be worse then a nirn, I could be a Sylvanas.” A cursed werewolf.

“Both of you! Enough of this crap. Vincent – I can explain.” Elise shot up to stand next to him, already assuming he had heard the full confession of her loving his sister. Shock and curiosity combined on Vincent’s face.  

“Truly? There’s some dead body here and I’m sure you were screaming bloody murder-” Vincent immediately stopped speaking when seeing Elise’s harsh gaze. Luciel groaned at the awful pun and the oblivious vampire. “Oh…”

“Anyway.” Directed Luciel. A plausible thought not thought of before occurred in his head. “If you were screaming so loud, wouldn’t a neighbor have heard?” They all exchanged knowing glances before rushing out of Elise’s apartment.

Elise approached the neighbor’s right beside her apartment. The door was opened a slit, Elise didn’t hesistate this time and opened the door wide with gentle intentions. She was greeted with her neighbors bodies, three of them.

The walls were splattered with their blood. “Looks like a paint job gone wrong.” A cruel joke, which earnt the vampire a hard smack on the back by Luciel.

On the floor were the bodies of an elderly woman, probably a grandmother, a body of a man and the body of a little boy. “This… This m-monster came in and killed them….” Point to Luciel for pointing out the obvious.

“Way to point out the obvious.” Vincent mumbled under his breath. This family was one who was good as Mercy’s forgiveness to Elise. In return, she comforted the father and the little boy as much as she could since the wife, the mother of the little boy had committed suicide. By taking them into their memories to spend some time with the mother, visiting her spirit, whatever she could do.

“Trickled eyed… No! No, no, no!!!” The trembling roar shook Luciel at his core – he never witnessed a louder outcry, even with the traumatizing victims he met with on a daily basis.

“Cal… Cal…” She repeated with sorrow. She fell to her knees beside the little boy, ignoring the aching in them. Her arm wrapped around the bloody dead boy and held him close to her. Elise held the little boy close to her and murmured words in a language she hadn’t even thought in, in almost a hundred years.

Vincent raised his eyebrow in confusion, convincing himself he did not just hear the familiar haunting language. “Am I fucking crazy or…” No reply.

“El… you haven’t spoken that language since…” He gulped, not wanting to finish his sentence. Vincent was more distant, just the word that would slip off his tongue next was enough to make him revisit a place he hadn’t ever knocked on. The past. “Since White- Whitebridge.”

The name stung both of their ears, made their throats run dry and hearts beat faster. “Don’t… Don’t speak about it…” Elise glanced up, blood on her cheek, tears running down her face – both dry and fresh. Her face was a worried one, fully alarmed.

“Please… Don’t, Vince…” Vincent nodded with understanding, lowering his head for a minute before walking around the apartment, stepping in blood as he went by. He glanced at the white, blood splattered walls. Two vases were smashed on the floor, a cup of tea spilt all over the wooden floor. Luciel turned his head to watch Vincent walk by, watched him with curious eyes and intent.

Whitebridge… That word alone opened many doors of haunting memories, shook any of its victims to the core. It was enough to make Vincent shake in his boots, barely anything could shake him. The only two things that had that effect on him were Whitebridge and… Alyson. The murderess beauty, the vampire that left him in a trance for long, haunting years.

Vincent stole a second glance at the bloody white walls. It was almost as if they were bleeding. The walls had reminded him of an event, long ago. Shaking his head, he silently begged himself to not remember. Don’t remember, don’t remember, don’t make me fucking remember for the love of Mercy. He, under no circumstances, wanted to remember how he slipped back into her grasps that night.

Even if it wasn’t his fault, he would silently blame himself. Forever.

 It was a night with harsh winds thrashing against windows and through trees, a booming thunderstorm with sounds that made children cry and elders worry in 1777. Vincent hadn’t heard from his aunt in a few days. Unusual of her since she and Nathaniel were close, if she were to leave town for a few days she would notify one of his family members either in person or by letter.

He was not as close with his aunt as Ian was. The two would spend hours upon hours every week exchanging theories and research they’ve done in their studies of reading people. Aunt Lucy had helped Ian find safe ways to bind his chest back without risking his ribs and breathing, always brought him journals to write in. Whatever his theories directed to, he wrote them down. Yet he was closer to her then Aria was. Aria wasn’t close with her – as much as Aunt Lucy tried. Aunt Lucy had tried to get close with Aria by discussing alternate theories of religion instead of the tale of the two gods Namira and Mercy, she tried to speak about her personal love life with her wife to give her hope for Aria and at the time girlfriend, Sarah. Aria simply did not mix well with her. Aunt Lucy’s intelligence challenged her stubbornness and strong religious beliefs.

The shivering man climbed up the steps and loudly banging the door. “H-Hey! I’d really appreciate it if you would allow me to enter! It’s freezing Mercy’s balls out here!” awaiting the answer from his aunt with her warm tone. After two minutes, there was still no answer. An impatient sigh left the then human. “View this, I am here to thief your house. If you don’t come out I’ll break the door out.” No answer. He rolled his eyes and ran his hand through his dark brown curls. “I am a terrifying, huge wolf, ready to blow over your entire house.”

He finally gave up calling out from the outside, he gripped the doorknob and twisted it. Expecting it to be locked – he stepped back and began to search for a key, normally under her carpet or under a silver tin can. But, when Vincent stepped away, the door creaked open.

It was unlocked.

Vincent didn’t question it, he learnt not to question things even if they are suspicious. He steppe din uninvited. The house was identical to an abandoned one – dark, cold, no candles were lit as they should’ve been. Did they go out? He wondered. “I arrive! Thank you for opening the door and welcoming me in, aunt. I appreciate your hospitality.” Vincent was bitterly sarcastic, petty he was left out to dry – or get more wet.

As soon as he stepped in, the overwhelming combined scents of blood and rotting corpses came to his nose, as soon as he could smell it he cringed and went to cover his mouth with his sleeve. The scents were not new to his nose – his father always had the smell of blood and corpse rotting in the basement. Never upstairs, he treated the basement identical to a metaphor.

The basement was the closest place to Mercy’s final resting place – the place she was brutally murdered, to put it in a more bitter perspective. Namira had deemed it a cursed place – although the goddess had admitted in the book written with stone and gold about her and Mercy’s stories, how they came together and left separately.

“Is that your cooking?” Vincent laughed nervously – caustiously. “It was certain your cooking was similar to a rat’s arse but I never thought it would carry the scent of… corpses.”

“I enjoy it. Corpses are my favorite,” He took a few steps towards the much smaller kitchen compared to the one that was in his family home, slowly suspecting that nothing was cooking since the sounds of flames arising from the fire used to cook various meats her son would get when hunting. The smells distracted him – making him lose focus and bumped into the wall. A more annoyed then painful 'ow’ left him.

 “Injure yourself, darling?” Vincent gasped quietly, now alert as he turned around to see a woman standing there with a candle in her hand. She wore a white dress that reached the ground and swirled around the marble floor, parts of it were torn, specifically at the top of it. As if a werewolf or some sort of being with sharp claws tore her dresses to shreds. Blood completely soaked the material and drips of it fell to the floor, it was fresh.

Vincent’s mouth opened in shock as he looked up at the woman’s face, she wore a warm smile. She raised her hand, curling her finger in a gesture for Vincent to come over to her.

Shocked, Vincent’s eyebrows rose. Yet, he was in a trance. He stepped closer, gently bringing a hand to her bloody corset, then he placed it upon her cheek, stroking the dark skin with splatters of blood painted to it. “Aly..? Are you alright, my love?” The worry was obvious in his tone and the questions were scrambled. “Did someone hurt you? Did they hurt Lucy? What about her family?” His questions were all soon answer with a summed up answer – not from the bloody looking bride. But from a clue emerged from the candle’s light.

Alyson lifted it for his advantage, slowly walking over to the clue and held the light up. The clue, was a body.

It was his Aunt Lucy. She laid there lifeless. Her neck was savagely ripped open with a bite in the centre as the start. Down her shirt was ripped open, dark skin exposed to both viewers. Her own blood pooled around her body and Vincent felt sick, almost to his stomach.

“Namira’s gaze!” He hissed in anger. Vincent ran to his aunt, he crouched down, scrambled to grab her empty bloody body and pulled her towards him, hardly being gentle. He murmured a small humor to her. “I said I was a large bad wolf – wanting to blow your house down, a thief wanting to rob you, I never did say I was death knocking at your door.” His hand reached out and pushed her hair back, just how she always liked it.

“I hope… the gods don’t turn their eyes on you when you enter their arms.” That was her exit and that was his goodbye, to send her to the gods. Whatever ones she believed in.

A sympathetic voice. “Vincent, darling.” She was still holding the candle in her left hand. The mourning nephew turned his head and directed his full attention to her. “Did the bastard harm you as well?”

“No.” That relieved him but only for a few blissful seconds until she admitted the stomach twisting truth. “I killed them.” Her confession was anything but remorseful proven by her smile she wore, even softly giggled. “You… y…you must be k-kidding…”

 She shrugged. “Not at all, I was death who knocked at their door. Except,” She paused – her grin growing wider. “I don’t knock.”

The confession dug deeper – the final nail in the coffin. “They all squealed like dogs, especially the little girl and your.. aunt Lucy.” She smiled again, thinking back to the murders she took part in. “And aah… her blood was delicious, such a shame to watch her die. The life drain from her eyes. Could not find her wife’s location, I suppose she left. Thankfully.” A small chuckle. The trance, the only connection Vincent had of loving Alyson, temporarily snapped – if only for a vengeful second. Yet all he could sit there was listen and take it, take the confession.

This was the woman he was trapped into loving – and here she was, covered in the blood of his family members. Lucy and one of her children – their bodies were awards for Alyson, to show off what she had accomplished.

Alyson then kneeled, her dress touched his feet. Settling the candle next to them, his bitter words came scrambling out. “You… ill.. ill bitch!!” Vincent let out a sharp cry and slammed her to the ground, wrapping his hand around her throat and lightly squeezing.

Alyson’s eyes grew wide – fully alarmed, completely confused. The trance she had over Vincent, the one she had over him for years now, telling him that he loved her so, the trance that had forced his body to submit to her that she would gladly violate with his hypnotized consent.

The shocking discovery. “You’re…. a vampire…” Fully alarmed, she chose to remain calm and just smiled, her breath wheezing a small amount form the added pressure. Vincent was raised to hate vampires with his entire being, his own father was a vampire hunter. And this whole time, he had been loving one. No, he corrected himself while being in the free mindset – he had been made to love her.

Alyson used her vampiric power of mind control to manipulate Vincent and lead him to believe he was in love with her, and because of that he was repeatedly violated and fooled. A terrible event he would blame himself for centuries for.

“And guess what my love…” She took her hands and grabbed his face if anything but gently and held him there. Her strength overtook his, so his head remained. She locked eyes with him, his head slowly began to go numb and her words were sharper then a sharp knife, everything else was jelly.

She was placing him in the home – prison –of her trance once more. “You and I are going to simply walk away, hand in hand, knock over this candle and burn down this whole house… You will forget about me ever being a vampire, my false confession and we will return to loving each other.”

“No! No, no NO!” He begged; it was no use, the moment he found her standing there, he was a lost cause.

When they broke the intense, life changing eye contact, his hand slipped from her neck and his body slammed to the ground in weakness. A small groan from the sudden impact was heard by Alyson.

“Let’s go, love.” The murderess held her hand out, awaiting Vincent’s in hers.

Vincent struggled to stand up, but managed. “As you wish, darling.” He was back.

A small smile curled on the vampire’s lips, gripping his hand tightly. “And… kick over that candle would you?”

And he did just that. The house was on fire minutes after they left, burning the bodies of Aunt Lucy and her young daughter.

“Alyson.” Vague was Vincent’s word. Luciel’s eyebrow rose and curiously squinted his eyes “Alyson?” He repeated with curiosity, he was intrigued.

“That… That bitch is behind this.”

The vision. Elise shot her head up – the final piece of the puzzle. The person not “No… No way… Alyson wouldn’t kill children! She had a child didn’t she? One that died?” Vincent turned around, he had a look of fury and it was an anger the two hadn’t seen before. “The bitch thought that because her child didn’t live that no other child should have the chance at life.”

Vincent laughed out of disbelief. “I should’ve known she wouldn’t stay away… the crazy –“ He paused ot kick the dining table as hard as he could. “- fucking, vampire.” She was out to get him. Out to make him pay for leaving her. Alyson already was making his skin crawl, mind on full alert, she was close but far – or that was what she wanted to have him convinced of.

Luciel put his hand on Vincent’s shoulder, sympathetically and a move of compassion. “Hey… Vincent I’m sorry. Also have some respect, don’t kick-“

“I don’t need your fucking pity, and Luciel, they’re fucking dead.” The furious vampire growled lowly at his friend who quickly withdrew his hand out of fear. “She wouldn’t do it on her own.” His observation was simply from experience. “She had someone else do this for her, because look at this? They did such a shitty job. Alyson usually cleans up after herself.” He didn’t think in a million years that someone else was his sister.

On her tongue, sat the name of the person responsible for the dirty bidding. Yet, she remained silent and just shook her head and growled low. “They’ll pay – They will all pay, for the children and elders in this building.” A silent promise to herself, a whisper bloomed from her lips. “They’ll pay…”

Aria Caslova would pay for what she did here, Elise silently additionally promised. Whatever love she had for the woman was locked away, in an abandoned door and Elise swallowed the key.

“Little Witchy is feeling a bit bitchy…” Vincent whistled as he observed the tiny flames poking from Elise’s hand, heat built up from her hands and crawled up to her shoulders. Anger was fire for a witch, emotions sometimes allow powers to slip lose.

Luciel chuckled quietly before awkwardly coughing, understanding it was quite unfitting for the situation. Elise opened her mouth to bark at them, but was gulped away when Vincent laid a hand on her shoulder.

“I promise, she will pay for what she did here.” Vincent promised. Sincerely.

One thing people who knew Vincent at all, and weren’t dead, was that no matter what. The man kept to his promises, no matter what he had to pay. He sometimes does it in questionable ways and downright infuriating and frustrating ways, but in the end – he pays his promises.

[festiveboydanielhowells]

figuring things out (chapter 7)

Summary: Prince Daniel of Eithoia has been seeing Lord Philip in private for years, despite his marriage to Princess Isabella. Up until now, it was never an issue for the three to be together. No one anticipated for the Princess to have an urgent announcement, and now anticipated that it would impact Dan and Phil and their countries as much as it did.

Warnings: pregnancy, smut, mentions of violence, swearing, vomiting

Tags: fluff, (horribly written) smut, royalty AU, polyamory, pregnancy

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Seventeenth of January

Steeple Palace, Kings

Dan wakes up to an alarm blaring, and he grabs his wife’s hand and pulls her to her feet. “What the fuck is happening?” She manages to say in a slurred haze, and Dan shrugs and pulls Phil to his feet as well.

“Julia,” Phil stammers out, “Get Julia.”

Dan rushes into her room and finds her hiding in the corner with her hands over her ears. Frantically, he pushes her towards the group and leads them down winding staircase until they are outside. Dan had managed to grab a coat when they were inside, but  now he sees Julia shivering in the winter win, and hands her his coat.

He is grateful that they’d been so tired they hadn’t undressed. They usually sleep bare except for their underwear, but they’d all been so wiped out from yesterday’s events that they had simply fallen asleep with each other. As soon as they’re outside, a guard finds them, breathing heavily. “Car,” he says, “now. I’ll explain when we get far enough away.”

Dan nods, and follows him to the car that is waiting at the loop of the palace. Once they’re a safe distance away, the man starts to explain, “Someone—someone started a fire in four different rooms.” He manages, and Dan gasps.

“Someone fucking what?”

“It was an inside job, I’m sure of it. I’ve been given orders from your advisors to bring the four of you to a secondary location in Intora where Prince Martyn and King Nigel have been staying after the attack on their castle.” The guard stops to take a breath. “We don’t know who did it but from the things I’ve heard… it was bad. Apparently had you been any closer to the west wing, you would’ve burned alive before you’d even heard the sirens.”

“Who the fucking hell would do this?” Dan demands, and he’s fuming.

There are fire trucks, a fuck ton, rolling past them frantically. His first instinct is that someone followed Julia to the palace—but that’s practically impossible. He is well aware of the evils in the world and only allowed heavily vetted people inside of the palace.

Except for Julia.

Julia couldn’t have started the fire, could she? She was in her room when Dan rushed to find her but…

But he trusts Phil’s judgment.

He’ll just be a bit wearier of her from now on.

Isabella puts her head on her shoulder, “Who has bad blood with you?” She asks in a hushed whisper. “Besides the obvious.”

The obvious being Winston and his group of friends. “You don’t think…”

“I don’t know,” she responds, “if he did it, I wouldn’t be surprised but…”

“But?” He urges.

“Doesn’t attempting to kill you seem a bit severe?”

He thinks for a minute over James, the guards, words. The fires had all been set in the west wing, where no one slept. He’d kept the west wing closed due to superstition, there was a rumor it was cursed, and he didn’t need any evil in his life. He didn’t believe in curses, but the west wing unsettled him. It still does, even more now than usual.

“They weren’t trying to kill anyone,” he says, tentatively. “If it was an inside job, they would know that the west wing is off limits. Hardly anyone goes there, ever. Say they just wanted to scare us or—”

“Or?”

“Take money away from the bill.”

“Oh my God.”

“Holy fuck, someone… how did—”

“It’s Winston, that conniving son-of-a-bitch, I’ll rip him to pieces.” She announces.

“We don’t know that yet, but I’ll call for an investigation. For now, I want my entire advisory separated and given severely monitored contact with each other. We don’t know who’s on our side and who’s not.”

“I suppose that makes sense,” she agrees. “They could be passing information to each other,” she brushes his messy curls out of his face softly, “People take advantage of your kindness.”

“I-I didn’t think they’d be willing to go this far.”

“What do we do?” She asks, and he sighs.

“We can’t give in. We have to live with the damage, I refuse to back down on my position and take tax money away from the people. That’s their money, we have no right on using it to repair our home,” he points out and looks over to see Izzy grimace and grab her belly. “You okay?

“Y-yea,” She breathes shakily, “I feel super uncomfortable. The babies don’t like this, at all.”

Dan puts his hand on her belly, “Hello, babies. I’m your father. While I love knowing that you’re alive and well in there, your mommy needs her sleep, yea? You keep her up all the time and she’ll not be a nice mommy when you get welcomed into the world. You don’t want her to be mean, I mean, I do, but—”

“Daniel!” She exclaims, and he laughs at her.

“What? Was the too much information?” He asks innocently, and she gives him an amused stare.

“You’re going to be a horrible father if that moment is something I can base your parenting off of,” she says, and Dan scoffs at the statement.

“Accusations, accusations,” he sings, “You say one kinky thing to your unborn children and all of the sudden you’re getting a divorce at two a.m.”

She gives him a slow kiss, “You don’t even like it when I say jokingly mean stuff to you; you just cry,” she points out, and Dan pouts at her. “What? Don’t like it when I’m mean?” She teases, and Dan sticks his tongue out in response. “Mature, Howell.”

“Oh yea? You’re a Howell, too, bitch,” he points out.

“The worst decision I ever made was standing at that alter and saying ‘I do,’” she says jokingly, but it hurts a bit. She can see it in his gaze dropping a bit before returning to hers, and she pats his back. “Hey, I’m sorry, baby. You know that wasn’t true. That was the third best day of my life.”

“What were the other two?” He asks.

“Finding out that I was pregnant with two princesses,” he wants to correct her, but he’s too in love to say anything, “and the day you got down on one knee and asked me to marry you.”

He leans in and gives her a slow kiss on the lips, before remembering that there are other people in the car with them. He pulls away and clears his throat, “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” she says, cuddling into his side. He grasps for Phil’s hand blindly in the dark, and when he finds it, he gives it a squeeze.

“Philly,” he murmurs, “I love you.”

“I love you, too, Dan,” Hh gazes at Isabella. “I love you, Isabella.”

“I love you, too,” She whispers back, as if there all telling secrets to each other. She whispers in Dan’s ear, “Do you know how fucking good it’s been to not have a period? I should forget my pill more often.” Dan laughs and gives her a kiss.

“We usually are safe,” He argues.

“We usually are safe,” She mocks. “Get a hold of yourself, no we aren’t.”

He gives her a kiss to her hair and thinks about the future. He vaguely wonders what their lives would’ve been like if he had run away with her and gotten eloped in Menia or something. They probably would’ve already had kids—they’d been putting it off due to the stress of everything. He wonders what their twins will looks like—if they’ll have her waves or his bunchy curls, if they’ll have green eyes that sparkle or brown eyes that turn golden in the sun. He wonders if they’ll adopt her confidence or his anxieties. Maybe they’ll gain their birth-parents looks, but Phil’s personality. Perhaps they’ll be clumsy and awkward, yet somehow still charming. He wouldn’t be opposed to that; Phil’s personality is the best personality, in Dan’s opinion.

He wonders if they’ll hate their parents for bringing them into such a horrible job.

Dan resented his father and mother for most of his childhood. They’d forced him to take up a job that he didn’t want and live a life he didn’t want to live. He’d resented his father most of all because he wasn’t allowed to be a kid when his brother was. When he was fifteen and learning about economics, his brother had been happy. When he’d gotten married at eighteen his brother was able to eat a lollipop and play with their old dog.

He wishes, internally, that he could erase all of the power that the monarchy holds and replace it with a parliament or advisory. But that would take years, decades, of work to build and he is only one ruler.

By the time he’s properly deep in his sulking and thinking, they’ve pulled up to a cabin. Two stories of wooden logs and nine guards (Dan counted, there was nine) standing at attention around the perimeter of the cabin. There are woods surrounding them, every angle is another tree, and Dan shivers with anxiety.

He’s always hated the woods—trees are the worst things ever, in his opinion. Perhaps he’s just over exaggerating due to his fear of the Blair Witch Project, but he thinks it’s justified. Now that the sun has begun to peek through the trees, though, his anxieties have eased off a bit. At least he’ll be able to see what’s around him.

They exit the car, and a guard standing by the door opens it and ushers them inside. It seems a bit silly to Dan, that they have to go through all these extra precautions, but he doesn’t argue. There isn’t another heir to the throne if he and Isabella pass, and he isn’t quite sure what would happen to Etithoia after that.

Technically, his mother would take over, but he thinks about her taking over for him and shivers a bit. His mother has had a hard life, the last thing he would want is for her to suffer in terms of her job.

Martyn and Cornelia are on a couch in the lounge, sipping coffee out of mugs. The scent is strong enough to bring Dan back to his senses, and he looks at the guard who opened the door for them. “My mother,” he chokes out, “What about her? Is she okay?” The guard nods.

“Her car is set to arrive within ten minutes. She got out later than you, but she’s perfectly fine. The only issue is that she’s had a bit of an asthma attack, nothing too severe.”

Dan sits by the door, patiently, like a lost puppy. Since his father and younger brother passed, he’s really only had his mother.

He’s a bit startled, but grateful, when Martyn takes a seat beside him and offers him coffee. “So,” he begins, “How’s the mother-to-be?”

“She’s been good,” Dan says softly, still keeping his eyes trained on the door. He allows his voice to drop to a whisper, “We’re having twins.”

“Congrats!” Martyn pats his back in a friendly manner. “Have you settled on a date for the wedding?”

Dan shakes his head. “Not quite yet,” he murmurs. “Been busy with stuff.”

“Top secret stuff?” Martyn asks, and Dan nods humorously.

“Top secret stuff. We’ve got aliens in our dungeons,” he says, straight-faced, and Martyn lets out a hearty laugh. “Turned the tables on ‘em. Now we’re the ones probing those bitches.”

“You’re funny, you know that, Howell?” Martyn leans back on his hands.

“So I’ve been told,” he responds.

“By who?”

“Your mum,” he fires back, breaking eye contact with the door to give Martyn a look. He chews on his inner lip, “Sorry, Martyn, I shouldn’t have—”

“It’s fine, Daniel. Mum would’ve loved you, she would’ve been happy to have you be a part of the family,” Martyn assures him. Dan takes a sip of the coffee. It’s lukewarm and bitter, but he feels the caffeine moving through him and allows himself to be a bit more alert. “You’ve had a busy day.”

“I have,” Dan comments. “Why does it feel like…”

“Like what?”

“Like something’s building. Like we’re moving inevitably towards something bigger than all of us?” Dan asks.

Martyn shrugs. “It feels like that, doesn’t it? As if we’re just… counting down the days until all of these odd events make sense.”

“The fire, the man in Phil’s room, the guards that are going missing…” He mutters. “It all feels connected somehow, and I hate to be a conspiracy theorist but—”

The door swings open, and Daniel’s mother walks in with her head held high. She’s got bags, massive bags, underneath her eyes and her lips are downward. But, when she sees Dan, her demeanor changes. “Daniel!” She exclaims, pulling him into a hug. “Is Isabella safe? Are the babies okay?” He nods against her shoulder.

“Everyone’s fine, mum. We’re fine.” She gives him a kiss on his forehead, as if he was still a small child, and moves on to shaking Martyn’s hand and pulling him into a hug.

“We’re all family, Martyn.” She tells him, and he smiles at her. “Now, I am tired. That stupid fire took too much out of me, fucking morons, I’ll be upstairs in a vacant bedroom.”

She doesn’t even say goodbye, just waltzes up the steps. Dan scratches his ear, “I should probably go check on Isabella and make sure she’s doing okay.” Dan says, standing up.

“Of course, I can’t imagine the stress both of you must be under right now.” Martyn says, “Philip isn’t under the same stress, too, is he?”

“No,” Dan says, “God, no. I don’t-we don’t want him to feel as if he has to do anything. He doesn’t have to accept any responsibility except for the babies.”

“Good, good.” Martyn breathes. “Goodnight, then, Daniel.”

“Goodnight, Martyn.” Dan hikes up the steps and enters a room with an open door.

Isabella and Phil are both sound asleep, wrapped up in each other and snoring lightly. Phil has his hand thrown over Izzy’s belly as if he’s going to protect her.

He strips down to his pants and crawls into bed with them, even though his clock says that it’s seven a.m.

[newstfionline]

Hawaii brings back Cold War-era nuclear warning sirens amid fears of North Korea strike

By Brittany Lyte and Cleve R. Wootson Jr., Washington Post, November 27, 2017

KILAUEA, Hawaii--As nuclear tensions between North Korea and the United States grow, officials in Hawaii are walking a delicate line--planning for a catastrophe while assuring residents and tourists alike that they can keep sipping beverages from coconuts without alarm.

The “without alarm” part gets harder Friday.

That is when the government is set to bring back a statewide nuclear attack siren, a relic of the Cold War that will notify islanders that a missile is headed toward them. Officials will test the system for the first time just before lunchtime Friday, according to the Honolulu Star-Advertiser.

If the alarm goes off at any other time, by the way, it means that residents have 15 minutes before a nuclear bomb destroys Hawaii as we know it. The tests will be conducted on the first business day of every month for the foreseeable future.

Officials say an attack is unlikely, but they’re preparing Hawaii residents nonetheless.

The siren tests will be an audible example of the growing strife with North Korea, which has spooked other communities in the still-hypothetical line of fire. Guam distributed a pamphlet on nuclear attack preparedness that encouraged people to avoid using conditioner, “as it will bind the toxins to your hair.” A 16-page bulletin released by emergency management authorities in California warned people to beware of radioactive pets.

Judith and Bill Fernandez, who live on Kauai, the oldest and northernmost island in the archipelago, told The Post they believe Hawaii’s siren test is prudent. They’ve already stocked up on canned goods and bottled water.

“Hearing a siren go off like that will scare the living daylights out of you,” said Judith Fernandez, who is 79. Both she and her husband, who is 86, lived through World War II. “But you don’t want to be sitting around waiting, thinking, ‘Why the heck isn’t there any plan?

“Being not prepared is foolish,” she said, but added, “this is probably as unsettling as the Cold War era.”

Hawaii’s warnings about a possible nuclear attack have been understandably grim.

“There will be no time to call our loved ones, pick up our kids and find a designated shelter,” Vern Miyagi, administrator of the Hawaii Emergency Management Agency, said in an interview with the Star-Advertiser. “We should all prepare and exercise a plan ahead of time so we can take some comfort in knowing what our loved ones are doing.”

Miyagi is a mainstay in many emergency management videos, including the latest one about the nuclear siren. He wears an Aloha shirt, speaks in a soft, even tone and is accompanied by the gentle strumming of a ukulele as he essentially describes the last sound Hawaiians will hear as a ballistic missile streaks toward the 50th state.

The video isn’t the only one that has tried to balance a message of calm with a message about a worst-case scenario.

In October, the University of Hawaii sent an email to 50,000 students and 10,000 employees that detailed growing tensions between the United States and North Korea, and the rogue nation’s nuclear ambitions, according to The Washington Post’s Nick Anderson.

“In light of concerns about North Korea missile tests, state and federal agencies are providing information about nuclear threats and what to do in the unlikely event of a nuclear attack and radiation emergency,” the email said.

After hitting “send” on the apocalyptic-sounding message, the communications official responsible for it was immediately wishing for a do-over, saying, “It was a mistake on my part.”

Of course, terrifying and totally on-purpose anecdotes abound.

In September, North Korea’s foreign minister warned that a strike against the U.S. mainland is “inevitable” after President Trump mocked North Korean leader Kim Jong Un with the nickname “little Rocket Man.” Trump, meanwhile, has said that the United States would “totally destroy” North Korea, warning Pyongyang that it would be met with “fire and fury” if threats continue.

As Sam Kim and Kanga Kong reported for Bloomberg this month, North Korea’s nuclear program escalated this year:

It test-fired long-range intercontinental ballistic missiles twice and said the entire U.S. was now in range; it fired missiles over Japan twice; it threatened the U.S. territory of Guam; and it carried out its sixth nuclear test, detonating what it said was a hydrogen bomb that could be fitted onto an ICBM...

North Korea, which is thought to have six to 20 nuclear warheads, describes its weapons as a “precious sword of justice” against invaders and points out the demise of Iraqi and Libyan regimes after they gave up on nuclear arms.

Hawaii has previously been depicted as a target by North Korea. Oahu is home to the Navy’s U.S. Pacific Command. Hawaii is about 4,600 miles from North Korea. The U.S. mainland is 6,680 miles from North Korea.

Emergency management officials’ theories about what would happen during an attack are horrifyingly detailed. The state estimated that a 150-kiloton-yield nuclear warhead detonated over Joint Base Pearl Harbor-Hickam would kill 18,000 people and injure up to 120,000, according to the Star-Advertiser.

But that’s a worst case, Miyagi said. Authorities believe North Korea would attack closer targets, such as South Korea or Japan--or instead aim for the U.S. mainland.

Kim “has a limited amount of missiles, and there are many, many closer-in targets that he is guaranteed of hitting, such as Japan and South Korea,” Miyagi said, noting that “Hawaii is a very tiny target.”

John Wooten, an organic tropical fruit and vegetable farmer from Anahola, told The Post he felt that if a nuclear weapon was streaking toward his island, there’d probably be too little time to react anyway.

“By the time a real warning would be necessary, I think it’s going to be too late,” he told The Post.

“If it gets to that point, we’ve really missed all the opportunities that we could have used to defuse the situation.”