#look at him. look how he considers roland his god. how something happened and made

[zakuryoishi]

no im not okay i don't even want to know what happened to astolfo to hate roland so much and

[theparanormalperiodical]

French Nuns And Newspaper Clippings: The Real Stories That Inspired The Exorcist (1973)

The year is 1632.

We are in a remote commune in Northern France. The situation is bleak: an outbreak of plague has started snatching lives again, and King Louis XIII is ordering the walls around Loudon to be torn down. The locals are more divided than ever.

But things are about to get worse.

Way worse.

The local nuns are beginning to act strange.

It started when one young nun claimed she had a vision of a dead priest. Suddenly, all 17 clergywomen are reporting similar visions. They then begin cussing, shouting, and displaying more and more aggressive behaviour.

17th century nuns do not act like this.

Oh no, this was something unholy. This was demonic possession.

331 years later, this little-known historic tale would feature as one of the main inspirations behind horror’s most iconic movie.

Yep, the film that still gives you nightmares of young girls walking down stairs crustacean-style is based on a true story. But it’s worse than that. It’s based on two tales of alleged possession, several real-life people, and a demon many still worship today.

*nopes the f*ck out*

Let’s Talk About The Exorcist

Let me just clarify something: the exorcist is not the creepy, possessed ‘lil girl. An exorcist is a person that performs exorcisms - so here, it’s the priests.

The Exorcist was originally a book written by William Peter Blatty. Adapted to a film series (and a TV show) starting 2 years later, they both shared a close plotline. Well, to begin with, anyway.

A statue of a demon is found in an archaeological dig of northern Iraq. The discovery unleashes a mysterious spirit/demon/god called Pazuzu. On the other side of the world, a young girl begins exhibiting strange behaviour. Regan, a typical 12-year-old American girl, refuses to eat or sleep and becomes aggressive. All the while, strange things happen around the house.

The doctors provide no answers to her behaviour, so the mother of the supposedly-ill child turns to religion instead. She finds help in the form of a priest who is experiencing a crisis of faith and consequently doesn’t believe this is demonic possession. But a couple chats with the girl convinces him that yep, she’s bunged up with a demon. So, he asks the bishop if he can perform an exorcism. A priest fresh off that dig in Iraq is shipped over and they get to work. During the final exorcism, one of the priests opts to save the possessed girl by asking the demon to possess them instead. The possessed priest chucks himself out of the window and as he falls to his death, regains his faith in God.

The Exorcist is one of the most famous horror films - if not, the most iconic - of all time, from the traumatic FX makeup of a possessed Regan to sequences ‘80s America wasn’t ready for.

But The Exorcist was not a stand alone film. Contrary to popular belief, what followed was 4 (soon to be 5) sequels ‘n’ prequels that unravelled a deep, dramatic plotline. There’s a reason we don’t hear about them.

In the following films we see the aftermath of Regan’s exorcism and emerging doubts about whether she was in fact really possessed. Political and theological themes rise to the surface, looking deeper at the priests that conducted the exorcism rather than the victim. At the same time we take part in an archeological dig, meet a serial killer, and get a front row seat to a battle during WW2.

It’s a wild ride. But this ride is brimming with reality.

Blatty directly cited inspiration from a number of sources, most famously the 1949 demonic possession of Roland Doe that he first heard when studying at Georgetown University. But he has also claimed that many of the characters who navigated the possession of Regan were based on real people.

Take Father Merrin, the exorcist leading the exorcism: he was based on a British archaeologist that excavated the caves where the Dead Sea Scrolls (ancient manuscripts written in Hebrew) had been found.

But the nature of the exorcism that filled out a majority of the film were informed by the work for Father William S Bowdern, a Jesuit priest who exorcised Roland Doe himself.

However, it wasn’t just the mortals that were inspired by real, historic figures.

Pazuzu Is An Actual Worshipped Demon

Without Pazuzu, there would be no possession. Without Pazuzu, there would be no exorcism, nor the need for an exorcist.

We only see the demon in flashes - but these moments inherit a history that takes us back as far as 3500BC. Pazuzu was an ancient Mesopotamian or Assyro-Babylonian god that was the king of the demons of the wind. He brought storms and drought, and although recognised as an evil spirit, he also drove away other evil spirits. He strives to protect us from plagues and misfortunes, and his rival, Lamashtu, causes harm to mother and baby during childbirth.

He is known as both a demon and a god, but in The Exorcist is recognised more as the former.

We do catch a couple glimpses of Pazuzu, but we only see his face clearly when he begins to take over young Regan. The pasty white face and blood red eyes don’t fit ancient lore: Pazuzu is traditionally depicted as having the head of a lion, the body of a human, the talons of an eagle, a pair of wings, a scorpion’s tail, and a ‘serpentine penis’ (I can’t work out if this is the penis of a snake or a penis that looks like a snake and like I don’t wanna know k).

The Exorcism Of Roland Doe

It’s one of the most famous cases of possession - and we don’t even know who the victim actually was.

In 1949, American newspapers began to pick up on the story of an exorcism in Maryland. A teenage boy was at the centre of mysterious poltergeist activity after the death of his spiritualist aunt. She was the one that first introduced him to an ouija board.

After typical paranormal activity took place, priests were summoned to exorcism him. During these exorcisms, furniture began to move by itself, the boy began to attack priests with rogue bedsprings, he began to speak in an unknown voice, the mattress he lay on began to shake, and words like “evil” and “hell” began to appear in scratches upon his body.

It was a very similar state to the one Regan was in during The Exorcist.

Roland Doe (a pseudonym, obviously) to this day has remained anonymous, and - if alive - he would be 86 years old.

Despite this being the most known case of alleged possession - rivalling only that of Anneliese Michel - it has received a large dose of skepticism and debunking. The supposed location of the exorcism and some personal details of Roland Doe have been contested. Plus, many believe Doe was actually a spoiled, attention-seeking bully who simply repeated Latin phrases heard at school in order to create some elaborate prank.

Regardless of whether it was real or not, it is a landmark moment in paranormal history.

And 300 years before a 14 year old lutheran began to growl Latin at his family members, a group of women began to show similar signs of a haunting.

The Possessed Affair Of Loudon And Aix-en-Provence

I’ve already introduced you to the possessed nuns of Loudon. But it turns out The Exorcist also took inspiration in another French convent: Aix-en-Provence.

The nuns of Loudon pinned their possession on the demon Asmodai and gave a number of different answers as to who summoned it. Some claimed it was either a priest named Peter or Zabulon (a biblical figure). But a week after this, a man named Urbain Grandier who had amassed a lot of power and a strained reputation in the community was considered the culprit.

Soon after the nuns first exhibited strange behaviour, they were hidden away and the symptoms stopped.

The accusations levelled against Grandier were clearly inspired by political motives as he had publicly attacked the cardinal’s work and the taking down of the wall. But locals say he would appear at random in the convent with no one sure as to how he got inside. It was even claimed that he had made a pact with the devil - from which a physical contract was supposedly uncovered - and that he had attended witch’s sabbat.

The priest was executed for sorcery and given ‘the boot’ (a method of torture).

Loudon and Aix-en-Provence are considered cases that fit in well with wider witch trials taking place across western Europe in the 17th century. The possession of the Ursuline nuns of Aix-en-Provence were similar to that of Loudon - but were just a tad more mental.

20 years before Grandier was convicted, a young woman, Madeleine de Demandolx, confessed to the superior of the convent that she had been intimate with the local priest. She was sent away to Aix-en-Provence to get some distance but soon began to do some rather out-of-character things.

She would have convulsions and soon the other nuns began to do the same. It appeared to be contagious.

But things got hella weird when the nuns gathered together in a holy cave that Mary Magdalene was meant to have once lived in (Sainte-Baume) to be exorcised. Instead of just shaking, they all tried to outdo each other in symptoms of possession.

Once would cuss fervently; another would speak in a deep, demonic voice.

A political story soon unravelled full of accusations, executions, and even Madeleine being released from jail at 77 for her alleged witchcraft.

So - are you ever going to watch The Exorcist after this?

(Me neither.)

If you liked this post, go on and let me know with a like ‘n’ a reblog. And if you want to hear somethin’ spooky every Saturday, go on and hit follow!

[punkyflesh]

Can you write some about Cedric being a great step-father to Lucinda?

(I ship Cedric with Marla, Lucinda’s mom)

of course!! i'm always weak for dad!cedric so i'll write you some headcanons. i hope you enjoy!

step-father cedric w/ lucinda

• at the start of his and marla's relationship — this man was incredibly nervous. he barely knew how to look after himself, let alone a child

• but you know damn well he'd try his best, he knew that marla adored lucinda and was eager to make them both happy

• the first few weeks would be a little awkward for cedric - he had always been an uncle figure to sofia but being a step-dad was something he would have never imagined

• marla and cedric would be early in their relationship, and so i doubt they'd be moving in with eachother quite yet. despite this, cedric made it his plan to free up his rather busy schedule and go down actively to the village (often accompanied by sofia) and spend time with them

• lucinda would be a bit shy and awkward when cedric paid her attention — she was so used to the family being her and her mother, that she didn't know how having a father figure felt

��� despite this, cedric would try so hard with pleasing lucinda (come on, the man is a massive people pleaser and always aims to impress), and would conjure little charms, gifts and dazzling shows that left lucinda in upmost amazement

• perhaps having a magical step-dad would be rather good considering her interests?

• cedric, having noticed her astonishment towards his little tricks, would invite lucinda rather shyly to spend a day with him in his tower to show her and perhaps teach her some new magical charms and potions

• lucinda accepted this offer with a gleaming grin on her face

• cedric was taken back by her excitement and was determined to use this step-father/daughter bonding time to the max

• lucinda would gawk at cedric's workshop, taken back by the sheer amount of cool equipment and spell-books he possessed- hey, is that a flying car?

• she would make it her goal to teach cedric to ride a broomstick one day

• the two would spend the day chatting about witchcraft and sorcerery, practicing spells and whatnot

• cedric was quite enjoying the time he was spending with lucinda

• soon lucinda would accompany cedric as his apprentice for his shows, as sofia is busy being a protector etc etc

• when the two eventually move into the castle further on into the relationship, lucinda would play with sofia, james and amber and ignore the rules about no flying brooms in the castle

• she liked this as she was able to see her friends, be close to her mother and visit her amazing step-dad every day

• my god, cedric would be the most protective step-father you'd ever meet

• you'd think his role as the royal sorcerer was to protect lucinda rather than the king

• this man would MELT if lucinda would ever call him "dad" rather than "mr cedric"

• in fact she did, the first time it happened was during the family's first wassalia together in the castle

• cedric had spend weeks preparing the gifts he would give to marla and lucinda — his family had become the most important thing in his life and he was eager to show that to them through gift-giving

• lucinda was in adoration over the gift she had received from cedric. it was a beautiful new wand delicately crafted. she was in complete awe and dropped everything to envelope her step-father in a hug

• cedric was taken back at the sudden affection, but even more taken back at the words that fell out of her mouth: "it's the best, thank you dad"

• he'd start stammering and gaze over her shoulder to marla, who'd give him an encouraging smile and join the embrace.

• roland would be surprisingly supportive of cedric — he knew what it was like to have a new family and was willing to share his experiences and advice

• overall, the family love shared between cedric, marla and lucinda was strong, and he adored being able to be such a fatherly figure towards her.

[spartanguard]

(love will see us through these) Dark Days [CSRT; 7/7]

Summary: A century ago, the United Realms of Pomem had been a land of peace, prosperity, and magic. Until war tore the land apart, leaving behind cruel leaders and even crueler laws regarding the use of magic. And each year, the youth of each realm are subjected to a fight to the death, both for entertainment and to weed out anyone capable of wielding magic. In the 99th Magic Games, past victors Emma Nolan and Killian Jones find themselves serving as mentors, while Alice Gothel and Robyn West end up representing their realm. Everyone has secrets; everyone has something to lose. Who will win? Who will die? Just don’t forget: all magic comes with a price.

rated M | 6k words | part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 | AO3

A/N: OMG IT’S THE LAST CHAPTER!! Thank you so much to everyone who has commented on it; I’m so glad you’ve enjoyed it! I don’t exactly have a timeline for the next story yet, but I’ll probably start working on it when I’m done with my CSSNS commitments. And thank you again to @captainswanbigbang​ for giving a great venue to revisit this, and to @optomisticgirl​ for being an amazing beta. Title is from “Safe and Sound” by Taylor Swift and the Civil Wars. Enjoy!

CHAPTER 7—Come morning light, you and I'll be safe and sound

The trip home was...weird. That was the only way Robyn could describe it. It was the same train, and the same views of Pomem flying by outside, but in reverse—which felt poetically appropriate (or something like that; she wasn’t great at writing).

Because this trip was a complete 180 from the previous: last time, she knew there was a very decent chance she was being carried away to her death; to have escaped that—and lived through everything—definitely carried a sense of relief with it, but she also knew she wasn’t the same person she was a few weeks ago. 

Granted, it was a much better 180 than the one most of the other tributes had taken: leaving home alive and well and heading back in a coffin.

(Could there actually be that many 180s from the same point? She wasn’t great at geometry either.)

(God, she was probably going to have to go back to school, wasn’t she? Ugh, being 16 sucked.)

She knew that a whole different life was waiting for her in Sherwood, but how she was supposed to build it on the foundation of her past was what she hadn’t figured out yet. There was probably a house waiting for her and her mom in Victor's Village—whichever one they wanted, most likely, given that Eloise and Alice were the only other living Victors. She wouldn’t have to go to work in the textile factories or cotton fields like everyone else was expected to, and she didn’t even have to follow her mom’s footsteps into midwifery if she didn’t want to. She’d probably have to become a mentor, once she finished high school, but that was far from a full-time job. 

Hell, she was even nervous about seeing her mom again. As much as she’d felt a pang of jealousy at the fact that Alice had her mother—well, both parents—with her, as stilted as her relationship was with Eloise, and as much as Robyn desperately wanted to fall into her own mom’s hug and never leave, she wasn’t sure it would hold the same comfort it used to. 

She was going to be vaguely poetic again: she was standing on a precipice, but couldn’t see past the edge. 

That was semi-literal; the train was going through mountains, so there was stone on one side and a sheer cliff over forest on the other. The sun was making its slow ascent and Alice was snoring in the bed, feet away. 

Technically, they had their own cars, but neither of them really wanted to be that far from each other; they’d done that enough after the games. They'd spent the last couple days of the ride talking, cuddling, kissing, and getting to know each other in a somewhat normal manner—like people usually do when they're not caught up in a death match. She knew now that Alice's favorite color was light blue, like the spot where the sea meets the sky; that her favorite place was her father's ship; and she had this adorably ticklish spot on her hip, right at the juncture of her thigh bone. (They hadn't just kissed...they were still teenagers, after all.)

And on her end, she’d been able to tell Alice about helping her mom with births when she was growing up and how that made her never want kids; about how her favorite color was orange, like a sunrise; and about the father she’d never met, but grew up in the shadow of. 

“God, I can't imagine not having a papa,” Alice had said. “What happened?”

“He died in that big fire that knocked out Factory 21 when we were babies. He was trying to get other people out when a beam collapsed on him.”

“Oh my god; I'm so sorry. Your poor mum!”

Robyn had to shrug at that. “Well, he and my mom were never formally together, same as your parents. He was actually a widower and had another kid; you know Roland, the groundskeeper?”

“Yes! Oh my god, he has the curliest hair.”

“He's my half brother.”

“Oh, wow.”

“Yeah, he went to live with his mom's relatives after the accident; I was only a couple months old, so I was already with my mom. There was some drama with the settlement money being split between me and Roland, so he and I aren't close at all. All I've got are my mom’s stories, and what other people have said. And apparently my skill with a bow; I guess he was a great shot.”

“Hey, that's a pretty great way to honor him—using that to win the games.”

“I guess.”

The one thing they hadn't managed to talk about at all, though, was what came next—for them, as a couple. Robyn loved Alice, she knew—but she was also a teenager and so much could change. If she had all these other questions about her future, was Alice going to be a constant, or a variable?

(She did okay at science.)

Even though she’d only been around him for a tiny bit, she kind of wished she had Killian to talk to, like Alice would. He seemed like the kind to dispense good fatherly advice.

Or he’d pass judgment on the person who was dating his daughter. Hard to say.

At least she had access to the next best thing: Eloise. To be honest, Robyn was still intimidated by her, even if they were kind of on equal footing now, at least socially. There was just this...aura she gave off, or something, that set Robyn on edge. But if they were going to be part of each other's lives for the foreseeable future, one or both of them would have to get over that.

And this was the last leg of their journey home so she should probably do it sooner rather than later. 

She grabbed a robe and slipped it on over her Olympus-provided pajamas that she had definitely stolen, gave Alice a kiss on the cheek that she didn't notice (and she probably wouldn't be awake for another few hours), and quietly slipped out of the train car to the next one—the club car.

Robyn had figured it’d be a good place to get a bite to eat and wait for Eloise to wake, but to her surprise, her mentor was already there.

“Uh, hi—good morning,” she stammered, afraid to move for some reason. “You’re up early.”

“Actually, you are,” Eloise answered. “I’m kind of surprised after what you two got up to last night.”

It was still pretty dark in the car, which was good because Robyn’s cheeks were probably the color of the hibiscus tea Eloise was drinking.

“I’m not judging; just...consider your volume in the future.” She was smirking; what did that mean? God, she should just turn around now. Or better yet, throw herself off the moving train. But it would be pretty silly to come this far only to die of mortification.

“Take a seat; grab a bite. You won’t get food like this at home.” Eloise gave her a pointed look with her invitation that told Robyn she didn't really have a choice here, so she complied, taking a seat on the other side of the table and reaching for a muffin.

She picked at it while working up the nerve to ask her questions—or even remember what they were—when Eloise spoke up. 

“I get the impression this wasn't just a casual social call,” she said, eyeing Robyn and then taking a sip of tea. “Are you wondering what comes next?”

“Uh—yeah, actually; how did you know?”

“Because I’m a mother, even if I’m not particularly maternal. And because I had that same kind of nervous energy after I won my games.”

Robyn chewed her bite of muffin—was that blueberry green tea flavored? Dang—while deciding where to start. It probably made sense to start with the hardest one. “How...how did you go back to your mom?”

Eloise’s brow furrowed, and she took another long sip of tea. “To be honest, I’m still not sure. My mother was a firm believer in being one with nature, in pacifism; I sometimes wonder if she didn't want me to win at all—if she would have preferred I be killed instead of doing the killing. I could barely look her in the eyes when I got off the train.” 

She paused to take another sip, but a lump was caught in Robyn’s throat—that was exactly how she felt right now. 

“But she shocked me—she just lifted my chin, smiled at me, and pulled me into her arms. Mothers have a large capacity for forgiveness, you know.”

Robyn scoffed. “You haven’t met my mother, though.” To say Zelena West could hold a grudge was putting it lightly; they could only go to certain shops in town because of the petty fights her mom had picked.

“Oh no, I have. Who do you think delivered Alice?”

Robyn’s jaw dropped. “Seriously?”

“Mhmm. I think you were a few months old at the time, and she was pretty desperate to get back to you—but Alice was taking her sweet time.”

“I can see that,” Robyn giggled.

“But she finally made her appearance, and your mum told me that becoming a mother was the best thing that had ever happened to her. Now, personally, I’m not sure I can say the same, but I have to assume your mother still believes that, and is just going to be happy you’re home.”

“But...I'm not the same person I was then. The things I’ve done…”

“She knows, Robyn. Everyone saw it. And she’s still going to love you and be there for you.”

That made Robyn feel a bit better, but an awful question came into her head. And she couldn’t hold it back. “Is that how you feel about Alice?”

Eloise finished her tea, then set the mug down. “I’m terrible at showing it, but yes. Motherhood was never something I wanted, but it got me out of a situation I wasn't happy with. We may not be close—and we’ll never be as close as she is with her father—but I’m still proud of her.”

“Good. You should be.”

Eloise smirked at Robyns matter-of-fact statement. “Oh? And why is that?”

“Because Alice is awesome!” Robyn blurted out. “She’s sweet and funny and kind and amazing and—”

She was cut off by Eloise’s laughter. “Alright, I believe you. I had my doubts there, but you’ve convinced me.”

“What?” Hold on—doubts? “Convinced you of what?”

“That you really love her.”

Robyn was dumbstruck. “You didn't think so before?”

Eloise leveled an unamused look at her. “Robyn. You and I are more similar than you think. You can see strategy beyond your emotions; Alice...can’t. Not as well.”

“You think...I was faking?”

“I wondered.”

That muffin was threatening to come back up.

“I’m glad it’s real though; that makes the future easier.”

“Easier?”

Just then, the door swung open, and a groggy Alice stumbled in. “Oh, there you are,” she said, smiling sleepily; Robyn’s heart skipped a beat, it was so cute.

“Hey,” she said, suddenly shy.

“Good,” was all Eloise could say. “You both probably need to hear this.”

Alice flopped down on the plush seat next to Robyn. “Hear what?”

“How the rest of your lives are going to go.”

Alice had been slathering marmalade on toast, but slowed her roll, her eyes growing wide. “What do you mean?”

“You know this can't end, right?” Eloise asked, pointing a condescending finger between them. “This is who you are now: the Star-Crossed Lovers of Sherwood, defeating all odds to get their happy ending.”

Under the table, Robyn reached for Alice's thigh and squeezed. “But we’re only teenagers. I don't...I don’t think my feelings will change, but...” She made a point to not look at Alice when she said that, scared of what might�� be on her face at a statement like that.

But, to her surprise, Alice was the one to reply. She sighed, saying “No, she’s right; the games are never over. Whatever happens between us, Olympus is only going to want to see one thing.”

“What, us?”

“Yeah,” Alice said, a bit sadly, breaking Robyns heart. “Why else do you think we’ve had to keep it a secret that I’m Killian Jones’ daughter? There’d be no more privacy ever for my family; and it’d break all sorts of laws.”

“They’d stop caring at some point, right?”

Eloise shook her head. “Look at the Misthaven dynasty.”

Everyone knew about the Nolan family—David and Snow, who won and fell in love; then their daughter Emma, who fell in love with another victor and had a son; god, that kid was doomed. But they were still the focus of a lot of attention during the games, and even more once Snow became the mayor there. They might as well be royalty.

Shit, was that Alice and Robyn now?

“Damn.”

“Yeah,” Alice agreed.

“But what if—what if it doesn't work out?”

Alice was quiet while Eloise answered. “It has to. Unless you want bad things to happen.” Abruptly, she stood then. “If you excuse me; I need to make sure I’m packed before we get home.” And she left an incredibly awkward silence behind her in the car. 

Alice picked up her toast and finally ate it, and Robyn finished her muffin. Alice picked up another piece of bread, and the knife for the marmalade, but that probably wasn't even sharp enough to cut the tension between them. 

She tried anyway though. “Do..do you really not think we’ll make it?” she asked quietly.

“I…” Robyn started, but she really had no idea what to say. “I...want to,” she settled on. “But I’m also only 16. I don't even know what I want to do next week.”

“That’s not the same and you know it,” Alice said through a mouthful of toast. She chewed and swallowed, then continued, “I know we’re young, and I know our lives are going to be crazy from here on out. but one thing I'm certain of is you. And I don't want pity or anything, and I don't want to find out you only feel bad for me or something, or you just did it for the games, and that’s why you like me back. And—ugh!” she yelled, throwing her toast at the table and grabbing at her cuff. 

This wasn't the first time this had happened: anytime Alice got overly emotional, something happened with her magic that caused a painful reaction with the cuff; in a calm moment, she’d explained that her magic was tied to emotion, so it seemed that whenever hers got out of control, its attempts to rein her in ended painfully. 

“Hey, I've got you,” Robyn said quietly, moving closer and pulling Alice into her arms. 

But Alice pushed back. “No; not now,” she barked, then winced. “I'm going—I need my mum. I’ll see you later.” She was up and out of the car faster than Robyn could protest.

Well, fuck. She’d made a mess of that, hadn’t she?

And out of all that, the worst part was watching Alice walk away.

Maybe they needed some space; maybe that would help. She’d try to talk to her when they got home—when things were less tense. 

But her appetite was pretty well gone, so she got up and followed the other two out. She didn't go to Alice’s car, though; she kept going to hers, little used as it was. She probably needed to pack, too, and get dressed and all that. They’d be home in just a few hours.

It was funny; barely an hour ago, she’d been scared about that, and now, all she wanted was her mom.

◇─◇──◇────◇────◇────◇────◇────◇─────◇──◇─◇

Killian always hated this part of the games. Not like he really enjoyed any of it, but escorting the bodies of two children to their waiting parents was a burden he loathed carrying.

Ariel knew to avoid him while they were traveling home; that was the only time he really let the emotional toll of the games envelop him. It typically involved him spending some quality alone time with however much of Olympus’s good rum his sticky fingers had nabbed. As a consequence, he usually didn’t remember much of the trip.

He knew they were close to home when the trees flying by his window began to thin and he saw the reflective glimmer of the ocean on the horizon. (Also, he’d finished the last of the rum.) There was still a boozy fog clouding his perception, but the disastrous state of his sleeping car told him that he’d been exceptionally violent toward the sheets and furniture this year.

Which was to be expected, honestly. Other than his own games, and maybe Liam’s, he’d never been put through the wringer as roughly. He prayed to whoever was listening that the games would never be so terrible again. Maybe he could persuade Nemo to come out of retirement for next year so he could stay home; Gold might not like that, but fuck him. 

Gods, even just the thought of the man sent a shiver down Killian’s spine that had nothing to do with the epic hangover he was nursing. When Archie mentioned that Belle had been in the company of the president, it immediately drew his memories back to Milah. She was never far from his thoughts during the games, but the thought of Gold’s attention being directed at another beautiful, unsuspecting young woman—and how it might end for the lass—brought back anger he hadn’t felt in some time. It was a blessing Emma was there and knew to remove him from the situation. 

Finally being able to release all the fear he’d felt for Alice was equally cathartic. And not just during the games: from every reaping prior, from Olympus finding out about her parentage, and all the normal parents’ fears—though some remained, obviously. Watching and helping her navigate the next step of their insane lives was going to be interesting.

And then there was Emma. His fingers drifted to his lips; he was fairly certain he could still feel them tingling from her kiss, even days later. (It might have been the rum, but he liked to imagine otherwise.) It had completely taken him by surprise, yet somehow also hadn’t—like it had been the release they both needed after the days of tension. In his stupor, his mind had taken it even farther—envisioning scenes of passion between them that made his heart (and other parts) stutter. He knew it was all sorts of impolite and improper, but knowing she wasn't actually in love with Graham seemed to give his dreams free rein.

There was definitely something there between them. He couldn’t quite place what, but she stirred something in him that hadn’t reacted in a long time. He wouldn’t dare say his heart—not romantically, at least; as far as he was concerned, that part still belonged to Milah.

But maybe, just maybe, Emma was the one who would finally help him move on from her memory. And that terrified him just as much as losing Milah all over again.

The train slowed down, and he forced himself to pull it together. Making sure he was properly dressed and looking not-too-disheveled, he gathered his things and found Ariel in the windowed caboose.

“Feel better?” she asked, with a look on her face somewhere between concern and amusement.

“Aye, I might make it another year.”

“Anything you want to talk about?” She was definitely trying to get at something. Why was there a sparkle in her eye?

“I doubt there’s much to talk about, love. You likely heard the worst of it.” He had a tendency to do a lot of shouting in the condition he’d been in.

“Yeah, you could say that,” she said with a knowing smirk. “Don’t worry; I won’t tell Emma.”

Bloody hell.

◇─◇──◇────◇────◇────◇────◇────◇─────◇──◇─◇

The sun was at its peak, but it struggled to break through the thick canopy of trees. Emma inhaled the strong pine scent; it brought her some temporary relief as she descended the steps from the train platform.

Home. She was home.

“Mom!” Henry’s voice called out to her, and she quickly scanned the small crowd gathered at the station until she found her son’s dark-haired head bobbing towards her. She couldn’t help the grin that spread across her face as she dropped her bags and scooped him into a tight hug.

“I missed you,” he said into her shoulder.

“I missed you, too, kid.” She could have stood in her son’s embrace for hours had Graham’s voice not broken through just then.

“What, I’m invisible?” he joked. Henry let go of Emma and raced toward Graham. 

“I missed you, too, Dad.” Graham responded with a warm smile and a strong hug.

Emma wished the moment wouldn’t end, but she became intensely aware of eyes on her. She hesitantly looked up, and met the gaze of Marco, August’s father; Tamara’s family wasn’t far behind him. This was the part she was dreading.

It didn’t help that she’d just had her own reunion with her son right in front of them; how cruel. She nudged Graham with her elbow and said, “Henry, can you go wait with your grandparents? Your dad and I have something to take care of before we go home.” Her son ran off to her parents, who were waiting in the street.

Graham wordlessly grabbed her hand and squeezed; she didn’t have to look at him to know he wasn’t excited about this part, either, but they owed it to the families. 

Marco, painfully, thanked them for doing all they could; he was sincere, but it was hard for Emma to hear that; she’d already spent half the trip home wondering what she could have done better. Not that anyone really stood a chance against the Sherwood girls, but she was her own harshest critic. 

Tamara’s family was thankfully a bit more reserved. Knowing they were angry about it was probably better, since Emma was. She didn't want forgiveness; she wanted to do better. (Though, in reality, she wanted to never have to do this again.)

At least they were there, though. Every time she was here after the games, she flashed back to when Neal—well, his body—came home, and she was the only one to claim it.

Dark Knights were in charge of unloading the caskets, and Emma couldn't stick around for that; that was too much. So she and Graham excused themselves to where her parents were waiting.

“You did great,” her mom said as she hugged her. It didn't make Emma feel any better, but she supposed her mom knew better than anyone how she felt right now.

“And there's always next year,” her dad added, pulling her into his arms and cradling her head like he always had. It didn't matter if she was a full-grown adult with blood on her hands; that always made her feel better. 

With the hellos done, they started the short walk back to Victor’s Village and their side-by-side houses. Just as Emma expected, her mom asked for a full run-down of everything that happened; they may be happily retired, but Snow would never be fully able to pull herself out of the gossip of the games. 

“And the new victors! What are they like?”

“They're sweet,” Graham said; Emma had to hold back a scoff that anyone who won the games could be called that, but it did seem to be the case for Alice.

“Oh, good; they seemed to be. Eloise's daughter seems so different from her—which is probably a good thing. God, I just can't believe they weren't going to let them both win; that was heartbreaking.”

A very belated realization hit Emma: that must have been what Eloise and Jefferson were planning that night in the Game Center, when she and Killian brought the burn medicine. How was she just now seeing that?

(Probably because Killian was clouding her memory. For reasons. Fairly obvious ones.)

“Oh, and Killian! What was it like working with him?” God, her mom’s timing couldn't be more annoyingly perfect, could it? 

“It was great,” Graham answered, looking at her with a sly grin. “He knows what he’s doing, and actually, he and Emma worked great together.”

She promptly elbowed Graham in the side. She’d told him about the kiss—she had to—and he was way too encouraging about the whole thing. 

“Oh really? That’s so wonderful; those relationships are so great to have.” Her mom then rambled on about the people she would ally with over the years, but Emma’s mind stopped paying attention at the word ‘relationship’. Even if it was being used platonically, something in her read more into that.

Regardless of Graham’s reaction, what she’d told Killian was true: it had to be a one-time thing. Even if she’d see him again in a year at the next games. And the ones after that, and so on until she retired. But that wasn’t sustainable—a once-a-year fling? No. There were probably people who did that, but Emma couldn’t. Her heart wasn’t that flexible. 

Unbidden, her mind imagined what it could be like, though: sneaking away for quick encounters, the feeling of that taunting chest hair against her skin...no. It wasn’t gonna happen. But, goddammit, why did he have to have a sweet side? Why did he have to understand her so well?

“Mom, you alright?” Henry asked; she jolted at his voice, and then realized they were home. 

“Yeah, kid; just thinking about stuff.”

“I get it,” he said, in a tone that was far more mature than any 11-year-old had a right to be speaking in. “You had a long couple weeks.”

“Yeah, that's one way to put it,” she agreed. “But I'm glad to be home.”

“I'm glad, too,” he said, with a grin that looked more and more like his father’s every day. 

She shook her head, either to shake away the ghosts of the past or the ones that had been following her since the train pulled out of Olympus.

The only person she needed was Henry. 

◇─◇──◇────◇────◇────◇────◇────◇─────◇──◇─◇

Twelve years ago

Neal Cassidy was handsome, charming, sweet—everything a 16-year-old girl would fall for. And Emma had fallen—hard. He was her first kiss, her first love, and he was even polite to her parents, who had initially been a bit wary of the boy who had a reputation as something of a delinquent. 

(But, honestly, that was another part of his charm; Emma had been forced to be the image of grace and class ever since she was born. With Neal, she found a bit of freedom from that imposed burden.)

They were already sweethearts when her name was pulled at 16. He left her with a deep kiss that was part of her motivation to keep going in the Games (that and, you know, not wanting to die). And the first thing she did when she arrived home after winning—at least, in private—was return that kiss with all the passion of someone who had been on death’s doorstep but survived. 

For the next year, they were hardly out of each other’s company, save for her victory tour. The night before the next reaping—before she was expected back in Olympus—she gave herself to him, with no regrets.

“I just want to make sure you won’t forget me over the next few weeks,” she’d told him, winking.

“As if I could I ever,” he assured her.

But then his name was chosen the next day. And now it was her turn to give him a passionate kiss goodbye. (And again on the train...and in Olympus...and right before he left for the games.)

As his mentors, her parents did all they could to keep him alive. They were hoping for a repeat of their own story: both victors, able to go home and have a happily ever after. Emma desperately wanted to help, but there was nothing she could do but watch. 

And there was nothing anyone could do when the knife held by the Oz tribute found Neal’s back, again and again. Emma had watched helplessly from the Tribute Castle as the love of her life was murdered.

She barely remembered what happened after that; it was a good thing she had been trained to put on an act for the cameras since before she could talk. Pomem was a blur outside the train window, realms flashing by as she recounted their last shared moments. And she cried—she cried a lot. Somehow, her parents kept her from dehydrating, but knowing that his lifeless body lay just a few cars away...well, that just got her going again.

When they got home, she retreated to the woods, where they’d spent so many days running, exploring, kissing—all that fun stuff. The one perk of being a victor was that she didn’t really have any other responsibilities, so as long as she came home before dark, people let her be.

At least, until she started to get sick.

And when she realized that certain monthly things hadn’t happened in a while.

The doctor confirmed her fears: she was pregnant. With Neal’s child. (And then spent the rest of the day sobbing into her mother’s shoulder.)

To save face, they said Graham was the father; it gave Olympus another one of the sappy love stories they ate up. But behind closed doors, he promised her he’d be there to help her every step of the way. 

“You don’t have to do that,” she told him. “Think of what you’re giving up.” He’d never be able to be seen so much as giving a friend a kiss on the cheek; actual romance was off the table. (As for Emma...well, she was pretty sure her shot at that died a bloody death in Neverland.)

He looked away, eyes cast down. “Please don’t take this the wrong way,” he started, “but after seeing what you’ve gone through, and so many others...I don’t think my heart is able to withstand that.”

She didn’t tell him that the only reason she was even still standing was because of the concrete wall that surrounded her broken heart, holding it together.

But he was amazing; he was already one of her best friends, and he ended up being the best partner—and best father—she could have had at her side. He abided all her weird pregnancy cravings, accompanied her to all her physician appointments, even withstood her crazy mood swings.

Mood swings that were often accompanied by sparks of electricity coming out from her hands, surges of power that blew out the light bulbs in their home, and her inadvertent burning of any book she tried to read.

What a way to discover she had magic, huh? It turned out being taught to be calm and collected her whole life had kept it from manifesting while she was in Neverland; but apparently it couldn’t withstand pregnancy hormones. 

It took everything in her to keep that under wraps, too—placing it somewhere under that wall around her heart. Which mostly worked. (Not like she had an option; thankfully, knowing she was doing it to keep her child safe was pretty good motivation.)

When she finally went into labor, she had Graham on one side and her mother on the other. Somehow, the pain of birth still didn’t match the hurt of losing Neal, but it came damn close. 

The lights overhead flickered on that last push (there was no holding it back), and then—then he was there: Henry. A squirming, screaming, pink thing, but when they put him in her arms, she wasn’t sure she’d seen anything more beautiful. God, she wished Neal could have been there to see him.

But she looked to one side and saw her parents (her dad having snuck in), and to the other and saw Graham. Even if Neal was missing, Henry was still surrounded by love—by people who were always going to look out for and protect him.

“I promise you, Henry,” she whispered a while later, when it was just the two of them. “I will do everything I can to give you your best chance in this crazy world.”

And that included anything in her power to keep him away from the Games.

◇─◇──◇────◇────◇────◇────◇────◇─────◇──◇─◇

Present day—Olympus

Jefferson was getting too old for this—and he wasn’t even that old. But these things had a way of weighing on a soul that not even the view from the window of his more-than-comfortable home could lift. (Neither could the glass of whiskey-laced tea he was nursing; at least the bottle was nearby.) His view of the border between Neverland and Olympus was soothing, with its varying types of trees serenely blending together, but also a constant reminder of what he did.

Another year passed, another games down. 18 more deaths on his hands. 18 more mothers having to bury their babies.

At least it’s not 19, a foreign positive voice somewhere deep inside told him as he took another sip of his drink, but that was hardly something to celebrate. It was only by the good graces of the President that both kids were able to win; part of him was worried about any repercussions, but the other part didn’t give a damn.

He was too good at his job. He was untouchable. And it drove him mad. (Which was probably why he was drinking alone and had a syringe of zolocybin at the ready; he knew better than to mix drugs and alcohol but again: he didn’t care.)

The next one is the last one, he reminded himself. It had almost become a mantra, having repeated it to himself countless times over the past few days since the end of the games. He thought of all the letters hidden here in his room, all the plans discussed, all the names on lists; as if on cue, his off-the-grid mobile phone rang, with the name Cora flashing on the screen. Their scheme would finally be put into motion over the next year. They finally had what they needed.

A symbol, something the people could rally behind: hope. Victory after impossible odds.

True love.

When Eloise came to him with her proposition to get both of her tributes out alive, he knew they finally had the last piece of the puzzle, the key to undoing everything.

His associates knew it, too, and the gears that had been slowly turning for years now kicked into high gear. The games may be over, but his job was just picking up.

There was still a long road ahead of them, though, and he needed to decompress. He tossed back the rest of his drink, put his phone on silent, and drew the blinds to his bedroom. Then he practically threw himself on his plush bed and grabbed the syringe; technically, zolocybin was a controlled substance, only to be used by medical professionals—but that didn’t mean it didn’t abound on the recreational drug market.

He popped the cap on it and methodically went over the process of injecting it into his arm, then settled back and waited for the effects to wash over him: first, sleep, then the kind of wild dreams that could only come from psychedelic hallucinogens. He could see why it was addictive, so he only allowed himself this one trip per year, to help him unwind.

Unconsciousness crept up in him quickly and he welcomed it. But even as he drifted off, one thing repeated in his mind:

The next one is the last one.

◇─◇──◇────◇────◇────◇────◇────◇─────◇──◇─◇

thanks so much!! tagging some: @kat2609​ @thesschesthair​ @xpumpkindumplingx​ @shipsxahoy​ @amortentia-on-the-rocks​ @mryddinwilt​ @cocohook38​ @annytecture​ @wingedlioness​ @word-bug​ @distant-rose​​ @let-it-raines​​ @pirateherokillian​ @its-imperator-furiosa​​​ @laschatzi​​​ @stubblesandwich​​ @phiralovesloki​​ @athenascarlet​​ @snowbellewells​​ @idristardis​​ @scientificapricot​​ @searchingwardrobes​ @donteattheappleshook​ @ohmightydevviepuu​

[corpse--diem]

Cat Call | Kaden & Erin

TIMING: Current? PARTIES: @chasseurdeloup & @corpse–diem SUMMARY: Erin goes to pick up Betty at the shelter and has a brief but interesting run-in with one animal control office. 

Erin was out the door before she even hung up with the woman on the other end of the phone call. For all of the godforsaken things that had happened in the past few weeks, one good thing had finally fucking happened. They’d found Betty. Alive, unharmed, and ready to come home. Never in her life would Erin have pictured herself speeding through town for a cat. Here she was regardless, a drumming in her chest and the biggest, hopeful smile on her face as she burst into the animal shelter. “Hi!” she started, unintentionally cutting off the receptionist she’d just spoken with before she could greet Erin in turn. “I’m here for Betty? Nichols? Erin Nichols. We were just on the phone?” The woman laughed as Erin fumbled for identification. Once she was satisfied, she grinned, Erin’s excitement more than contagious. No doubt that this was probably one of the better parts of this job. Most were lost, but some actually found their way back home.

“Betty’s just in the back. Give me just one second,” the older woman assured her. The barking grew louder as she disappeared into the back and Erin tapped her fingers anxiously against the counter. The door reopened just a few moments later and she stood straight, a smile that practically showed all of her teeth until--

“...Kaden?”

It wasn’t unusual for Kaden to be in and out of the shelter multiple times a day. Picking up strays, dropping them off, for one. And sometimes he just liked stopping by, checking in. And very occasionally, he would get a hopeful call that a lost pet was found. It almost never turned out well. Not in this town. There were usually a few he was keeping an eye out for, certain cases he was following. Usually it was for the children he had to encounter. In this case, it was for a brown and white cat. Betty. He’d asked to be called second if a cat matching her description showed up. He had driven over to confirm, maybe tell Erin if she didn’t already know.

So he wasn’t entirely shocked to see her there, eager and excited. But she sure seemed shocked to see him. “Erin,” he greeted her. Not sure why she was surprised. He kind of worked there. “You know I’m here all the time. I know you do. Considering…” Considering they’d shared brain space a few weeks ago. He didn’t miss that. At all. Odd, guess they hadn’t run into each other in person since that happened. And since she went to jail. Or since she nearly got Blanche and Rio killed. And did get Sarge killed.

Why was he helping her get her cat back again? He sighed. There was no reason to think she was a bad pet owner. He had been in her head after all. There was a lot that he’d found there that he disliked. But there was no trace of animal cruelty or even negligence. And animals did bond to people. Keeping them in their homes was usually for the best. “Heard Betty was found. Congrats.” Putain, it was so awkward. He had no idea what to say or do in this situation. “Is someone getting her or do you need help?”

“Right, of course. I did know that,” Erin said quickly. She didn’t know why she’d been surprised either. Then again, it wasn’t as if the Frenchman she was uncomfortably well-acquainted with had been at the top of her mind. It’d been a mad dash out the door, relief and excitement and Betty trumping most other rational thoughts. The longer she stood here, the quicker they trickled back in. She shifted uncomfortably in place, a thick tension buzzing in the air that nearly rivaled the hum of bad overhead lighting. “I’m good. Someone’s getting her.” She paused, uncertainty and a dash of reluctance stifling her. “Thank you again for helping, or looking out anyway. You didn’t have to but you did, and I appreciate it. Really. So, just--uh, yeah. Thank you.” It was a clumsy apology, nerves she didn’t know what to do with fumbling her words, but it was a sincere one nonetheless.

Silence filled the room again. What was taking so long? Not that she had any desire to pop back into his brain ever again but she would have wagered this was just as weird for him. The guy probably hated her, and even if she tended to disagree with him on most things, she couldn’t blame him for his contempt. Not after the fire. “We don’t have to make this a whole thing, right?” She hushed her voice, glancing at the door. “I’ll just get Betty, go, and we can keep our ways thoroughly parted. Forever, if we can help it.”

Kaden wasn’t sure if he should stay or leave. Some strange social conventions seemed to be keeping him in place, though he was sure there was no written rule for this sort of moment. He could just as easily leave and go about his job. But he didn’t. Because he was stupid. “Don’t mention it. I mean it’s sort of my job,” he said with a small shrug. “Plus, it’s better for the animal if they remain with the same owner. Some sense of stability.” There was enough of Erin that was moderately likeable that he wanted to give her the benefit of the doubt that she could provide something stable enough to keep her cat. At the same time, looking at her, all he could picture was flames, Blanche’s burns, what he’d guessed the remains of Roland Hills looked like in his nightmares. It was hard to reconcile how to feel about her.

He drummed his fist against the counter, looking away from her and was about to leave, go back to work, when he caught the pointed glance that Allison, the shelter worker at the desk, gave him. His brow creased. “What is it?” he asked her. “Nothing,” she started, going back to shuffling papers for a full half second before turning back to them. “But maybe save your argument with your ex for someplace private. That’s all,” she added with a coy smile.

His ex? What ex? No one was here other than Er-- Oh. Oh. She thought… “I don’t-- We’re not-- I never dated her. Ever. At all. If that’s what you’re--” Allison held her hands up and made a face that looked like something Blanche would do that indicated how fucking little she believed him. “It’s not what you think it--” Kaden’s mouth pulled into a thin line, finally realizing this was a hole he wasn’t digging himself out of anytime soon. He pinched the bridge of his nose. Great. This wasn’t already awkward as shit. “Where the hell is Linda with your cat?”

To say Erin was anxious to get her arms around her much too long missing furball and hightail it out there was the understatement of the century. Some sense of stability. She was sure that wasn’t a well-disguised jab, given the sincerity in Kaden’s tone, but it dug at her all the same. Stability. Her teeth clenched down, forcing yet another tight-lipped smile. Just be nice. You only have to be nice for a few more minutes. “Don’t worry - I spoil her rotten. I’m sure she’s eager to get back to her ultra cozy lifestyle,” Erin assured him, a gentler smile replacing it. For a moment, anyway.

“Oh, God. No, no. No--” she insisted, joining in Kaden’s chorus of stern declines, despite the awkward laugh that fell from her. “That’s--no,” she adamantly emphasized the ‘no’ heavily again, shaking her head. Still, she narrowed her eyes in Kaden’s direction with unearned indignation, tilting her head, then turned pointedly to the receptionist. “I’m just… not really his type, you know? I think it was because I talk just too damn much. Guy likes his silence. Kind of a black and white issue with him, but,” she shrugged. “Can’t fault a guy for knowing what he likes. Right?” The woman tried to stifle her laughter, eyes growing a little wide as Erin smirked smugly at Kaden’s direction again. Petty? Yes. Did she regret it? Not yet. One last little dig for the road didn’t hurt.

“Here she is!” The voice pulled her attention back to the door. Erin saw the disheveled, dirty fur poking out from Linda’s arms, and just like that, everyone else in the room vanished. Her eyes burned with the threat of tears, the relief and joy melting every ounce of composure. Yep. The second she was in her arms, she was babbling like every embarrassing pet owner she’d ever seen as the tears streaked her cheeks. Oh God, this was embarrassing. God, she know it. Did she care? Not one bit. “Oh, my sweet girl,” she cooed, brushing back some of the matted hair on top of her head before burying her face into the soft fur, unable to lift her eyes to the three employees watching their reunion. “Thank you, thank you, thank you,” she mumbled, trying not to squeeze her too tightly.

Kaden was relieved that for once, him and Erin were on the same page about something as she explained to Allison that no, they weren’t dating and never had been. But his brow furrowed as she continued. Yeah, okay she wasn’t really his type since she was a criminal but he wasn’t sure where she was going with thi-- She had to be fucking kidding. The confusions on his face shifted to annoyance. “Pretty sure that’s not it. I’m into screamers, really.” It would almost be funny if his hearing wasn’t still a little muffled from that boat ride with Regan and Savannah. “And come on, if I was into black and white stripes, you would have been a perfect candidate, Erin.” Allison didn’t exactly seem convinced by their snipping that they’d never dated. Kaden didn’t care just then. He wanted to get the last dig in. “Ah, nevermind, that’s right. They wear orange now, right?” The receptionist's face was scrunched up as she tried to put together the pieces of the conversation and it was clear she was still coming up short.

“Kaden are you into that big orange mascot thing? You know from Philadelphia I think. Is that what you’re saying?” Allison asked him, clearly concerned and a little distrubed.

“Huh? No! A mascot? What the fuck are you-- I was saying she’s a crimin--” He stopped just short of finishing his sentence. Shit, if Allison thought Erin was a convicted criminal, she might not give Erin back the cat. Putain. “I mean, not really. Never mind. Just a joke. We still never dated so stop looking at me like that.” Allison backed off and went back to shuffling her papers just as Betty was brought out. He’d never been happier to see a fucking cat and it wasn’t even his. As much as he wasn’t Erin’s biggest fan, seeing the reunion between her and her pet was worth it. The corner of his mouth pulled into a smile as he watched her hug her cat. He caught a glance from Allison and saw her waggle her brows. The look he shot back was no longer smiling. “Glad you two are reunited. I mean it,” he said offering Erin a small smile and a nod before going back to work.

Erin couldn’t help the chuckle that followed when his coworker hopped on board, or even the shocked one that followed the ‘screamer’ bit. Really? Her eyebrows rose unbelievably but decided that she could let that one slide. Seemed like Allison was getting as much enjoyment out of this as she was. Prodding the grumbly bear must have been more than a few of his coworkers favorite pastimes. No wonder he was grumpy. “You’re right,” she gestured towards Kaden, seemingly giving in. “You just need a lot more than I can provide. I’m big enough to admit that,” she smirked over in Kaden’s direction.

It was all fun and games until the word criminal nearly left Kaden’s lips. Her eyes shot wide open while he backtracked, and thank God she’d been preoccupied with Betty’s return otherwise the jabs would have come less jokingly than before. But once Betty was in her arms, there was nothing that Kaden could say to inspire any real rebuttal, joking or not. One good thing--she’d just wanted one good thing and she finally had it. She needed a bath and a thorough brushing but she figured that was a fair tradeoff. Glanced up long enough to see the soft smile on Kaden’s face before he gruffly brushed it away. Nodded in return before Kaden walked off, a sincere smile of her own finding her lips, before it was finally time to take Betty home.

[sgtrolandhills]

When I Look Into Your Candy Corn Eyes || Erin & Roland

TIMING: Current PARTIES: @corpse--diem & @sgtrolandhills SUMMARY: Erin brings lunch by the station for Sarge after learning he eats mostly Lean Cuisines. 

“Hi!” Erin chirped, greeting the young police officer at reception with the biggest smile she had to offer. Tried not to think about how it had taken a full ten minutes to muster the nerves to step foot into the station. Tried not to picture the very dead Dale she slid into the incinerator just last week. Would he be considered missing? No, no. Marley had taken care of that. Still, her eyes flashed to the bulletin board when she walked in. No familiar bald-headed fucks to be found. This was okay. Probably. She toned down the smile when the officer merely glanced up at her from their paperwork. “My name’s Erin Nichols—I’m just popping by to see Roland—Sergeant Roland. Sarge.” She swallowed. Smiled brightly once more, lifting the Tupperware container in her hands. “I brought him lunch. He’s not expecting me or anything but I thought it’d be nice to surprise him. He’s been eating a ton of Lean Cuisines lately, which are so bad for you, and—“ And this rookie stuck greeting the general public couldn’t have cared less. Erin stopped, nodded. Understandable. “Right. Is… uh, is he in?”

Lately, work had seemed to make Roland’s head spin more than it calmed him. This wasn’t a feeling he knew how to navigate. Burying himself in his work had always been his coping mechanism and something he’d genuinely enjoyed, but now, it just seemed to bring him more anguish than anything else. He’d always been so good at this and now here he was scrambling, letting another lead go cold. The mimes had come and gone with no real indication of why or who brought them here. The eyes seemed to be doing the same and it left him even more obsessed with the data in front of him. There had to be something he was missing. Another connection that he wasn’t quite making that would tie this all together and point him in the right direction. As he looked over all the different missing persons cases related to the eyes that had turned up in town, he let out a frustrated groan that was interrupted by his phone. “Sarge, you got a visitor at the front desk-- Erin Nichols?” His head tilted, a bit surprised. He remembered she offered to bring him lunch one of these days though he hadn’t actually expected her to follow through on that. He couldn’t fathom why she’d want to anyhow-- She couldn’t possibly be interested in him. She was leagues out of his league, but he could hardly turn her away. “Yeah, send her back.” He cleared his desk, to make the office a bit more tidy and stood to wait by the door. He waved as he saw her approaching. “Hey, Erin,” he extended his hand to shake hers, “It’s good to meet you in person. You really didn’t have to bring lunch. Does smell better than the Lean Cuisines though.”

Those initial nerves when Erin stepped into the building trickled back up her spine as she followed the officer past the cluster of desks, where more police officers were busy working. White Crest was a small town but there were more than she expected, though that made sense the more she thought about it. They were famous for few things, and one of those was their alarmingly high death rate. There was a reason the funeral home had one of the biggest fridges in all of Maine. When she finally saw Roland though, it was easy to brush those nerves off and return a warm smile. “Nice to meet you too, Roland,” she answered sincerely, shaking his hand with the one not holding the tupperware and utensils. She rolled her eyes and shook her head, waving him off. “Are you kidding? There’s literally no way I could sit around and let you keep putting that stuff into your body. And now you’ll have no excuse to ever touch that filth again.” She smiled wider at him, glancing past him and into his office, then back again. “Did I catch you at a bad time?”

Roland reasoned with himself that perhaps taking an honest to god lunch break would do him some good. The more he stared over all the details of each seemingly insane case in front of him, the more it all bled together until he simply couldn’t make sense of it. Maybe a true rest from it would allow him to return to work with some clarity. At least he could hope for as much. Plus, Erin had come out of her way to bring him a nice meal which admittedly sounded much better than a Lean Cuisine Macaroni and Cheese. He realized that sounded sad and probably because it was. Everything had him feeling a bit down lately. He spent so much of his time dedicated to the job and he still couldn’t quite seem to get a grip on all his cases. “You know, I’d normally object to being someone’s charity case, but that smells way better than a Lean Cuisine. I might have to give that Hello Fresh thing a try,” he said jokingly as he reached out to take the tupperware container from her. At the mention of a bad time, he shook his head and responded, “Not at all. I think a break would do me well if you’d like to join. We’ve got a break room up the hall recently equipped with a new Keurig if you’d like a coffee after lunch.”

“Roland you are not a charity case,” Erin said with a roll of her eyes. “I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t want to be.” She raised her brow, staring pointedly, but was relieved all the same when he took the tupperware container from her hands. “Trust me, it’s delicious,” she smirked, pulling out the two forks and plastic plates she had also brought with her. “I may or may not have tried a bite or three on the way here.” Helping herself to a seat, her grin grew brighter and she couldn’t help the chuckle that slipped from her at the mention of the Keurig coffee. “Oh wow, you sure know how to impress a lady, don’t you?” she teased, setting the plate and utensil out for them both. Her eyes were focused on Roland, but she couldn’t help but keep an ear out for the hustle and bustle of everyday life at the police station. The usual buzzwords filled her ears but nothing concrete she could latch onto just yet. “I wouldn’t call myself a chef, and the food came with pretty explicit instructions, so hopefully you think it’s as good as I do too.” She shot another smile his way. “Good enough to convince you to take some time out of your day to actually cook yourself something once in a while?”

He wasn’t a charity case. It was a relief to hear, but still left Roland feeling a little out of his element. Ever since the divorce, he found he was really off his game. “Well, I’m glad,” he responded with a sheepish grin, “It’s nice to have some real food and company.” It seemed a little surreal to him that there was a beautiful woman seemingly flirting with him and bringing him a nice lunch. The breakroom at WCPD wasn’t impressive by any means, but he hoped the new cushions he got for the chairs were comfortable enough. With an unsure chuckle, he responded, “I can hardly blame you. Smells so good, not sure I’d have been able to wait either.” He settled down in the seat across from her and opened up the tupperware container. Keurigs weren’t how he’d normally try to woo a woman, not that he’d done much wooing, but women liked coffee, right? He gave her an earnest grin. “Is coffee and chocolate not how you make women happy these days? I’m a bit out of practice.” Making light of his current lack of romantic skills seemed to ease some of his own tension. “You still had to make it. Worlds ahead of me and my Lean Cuisines.” He gestured jokingly toward the microwave. He took a bite of the steak and nodded, “Definitely good enough that I’ll try my own subscription out. It’s nice having something that tastes like real food. Were you good at cooking prior to trying these out?”

“Good food and good company is extremely underrated,” Erin smirked, pointedly eyeing Roland. She felt a little bad about all of this but being on the favorable side of the police sergeant felt like the right move here. Better company than the one she had in her head, at the very least. If she had to hear Fuck black and white cookies or Putain one more time, she was going to scream. She settled in across from him, digging into the small portion she’d served herself. “Coffee and chocolate are a great start. You’re not so bad at this, huh?” Alright. Good. He was picking up on what she was putting down here. “I better not even get a whiff of you going back to Lean Cuisines after this,” she pointed her fork at him teasingly. She shrugged, narrowing her brows. “I’ve always cooked a little, and just for myself really. So it tasted decent enough to me? But these things really helped me realize everything I was doing wrong,” she laughed, shaking her head. “I know I sound like a walking sponsor for these things but I’m not trying to get you to sign up for the free meals, I swear. I’ve always been an advocate for healthy eating. You have no idea how many heart attacks I see come through my doors on a weekly basis.” She raised a brow, then took another bite, chewing thoughtfully. “But I’ve gotta ask--have I officially converted you?”

“Doesn’t hurt when the company happens to be a beautiful woman,” Roland blurted out and his cheeks immediately turned a flushed shade of pink. Why had he just said that? And why was he still hungry for the heart of a frat boy? “I don’t know why I said that-- Not that you’re not. I mean you have to know you’re a good looking woman. I just hadn’t meant to say that. I don’t know what’s come over me lately.” He was embarrassed. Not that he was normally great with the ladies, but this odd voice in his head seemed to be extra throwing him off his game. “Noted. Any favorite coffee drinks or chocolates I should know about,” he responded playfully, fighting with his hand to stay on his side of the table. They were in the middle of the station and he refused to give into the impulse to touch her hair. Eyes but replace them with candy corn. He briefly imagined Erin with candy corn eyes. She would still be gorgeous. Why did he keep thinking this weird crap? He took a few more bites and enjoyed the proper steak. Lean Cuisine Salisbury Steak and Mac and Cheese had nothing on this. “Okay, okay, no more Lean Cuisines. I’m not much of a cook, but if they’re as easy as you say, I’m sure I can manage.” As if he couldn’t stop himself, he added, “As much as I’d love to be coming through your doors, I’d rather it not be because I had a heart attack.” He buried his face in his palms. Why did he keep saying these things? This wasn’t how he normally talked to women. “I’m so sorry. I don’t--” He was definitely blowing any chance he may have had. “I’m definitely signing up for one of these meal delivery services. This makes Lean Cuisines look like crap.”

Erin slowed her chewing as she watched poor Roland short circuit literally right before her eyes. Oh, this hurt. This was painful. Wherever her conscience had been hiding, he’d summoned it back into the light because she was already feeling terrible about this. She’d make a shitty full-time criminal. “It’s okay,” she laughed softly, shrugging. “I don’t mind hearing it sometimes. Especially not from you.” Oh, she was going to hell. She could feel the flames burning in her chest already. “You know, I’ve actually really been into cheese lately?” She raised a brow, partially at herself. That was all Kaden’s doing, of course. “Cheese and wine. I’m pretty sure it’s just a phase but I’ve gotta admit--it’s a pretty good one,” she smirked, taking another bite. Oh boy howdy, he was struggling. “How about this?” She propositioned, sitting up straighter in her seat, pointing her fork in his direction. “The first box you get, you can return the favor and make me lunch. That’s absolutely the only acceptable way I’ll let you into my house.”

What was going on with him, Roland couldn’t be sure. First, he had hallucinated a monster in an abandoned house and now he kept having strange thoughts that didn’t feel entirely his own in his head. They pushed him to do and say things he found to be uncharacteristic. Hardly the ideal state of mind to be in when talking to a beautiful woman who for whatever reason wasn’t running for the hills. Instead, she still seemed to be flirting with him and that prospect left a warm smile on his face. “Well, good. It’s true, you know. You’re a beautiful and witty woman,” he added on hoping that he wasn’t taking it too far. He was more rusty than he would have liked and it didn’t help that  he was out of sorts. Somehow she said she even enjoyed him being cheesy? Not that he was a bad looking man by any measure, but he wasn’t exactly Brad Pitt. Did women even still find Brad Pitt hot? He didn’t know. “Cheese and wine kick, I can get behind that. Any favorite kinds of cheese and wine?” At her suggestion of him bringing over a meal for her once he got his own subscription, a goofy grin etched its way across his face. “I think I can manage that one. Maybe I’ll even bring some of that wine and cheese you mentioned.”

From their brief online conversation, Erin hadn’t expected the Lean Cuisine lovin’ police sergeant of White Crest to be quite so… forward? But the confidence was there and it was a little impressive coming from a man who looked like he hadn’t had a real meal in weeks. “You’re pretty charming yourself, Sarge,” Erin smirked. Her eyes flitted up as someone walked by and there was something eerily familiar about them. “Fucking Gary,” she murmured to herself, though she wasn’t entirely sure why. The man just looked at her with a puzzled expression and she returned it with one very similar, though there was an underlying disdain there she couldn’t quite explain. “Sorry,” she glanced down at her nearly finished plate, narrowing her eyes at herself. “My favorite?” She shrugged. “I mean, a good comte always goes pretty good with a pinot noir, you know?” Hmm. It wasn’t entirely clear to her how she knew that, but she was confident she did. She finished up her food with one last bite, that guilt picking at her insides, subtly and quietly. “We should do this again though, seriously. It was really nice. I mean, I thought so, anyway.”

Somehow his being out of sorts and more forward than Roland would have ever dreamed of didn’t scare Erin off. In fact, it seemed she was still flirting with him and he couldn’t quite wrap his head around why. Ask her if she wants to make out rang in his head, but he stifled the unfamiliar thoughts this time. “Thanks,” he said instead though he became confused at the mention of Gary. His brow scrunched together and he mused, “I didn’t realize you knew Gary. Our other animal control officer isn’t his biggest fan either.” In all fairness, Gary seemed a bit more stable than Langley, but he wasn’t about to go there. “It’s fine,” he responded with a small chuckle. He’d find out what she had against Gary next time they saw each other. As he was walking her out, she did confirm she would in fact like to do this again. The smile on his face was hard to contain and he didn’t see a reason to bother. She mentioned something called comte and Roland had no idea whether that was cheese or wine, but he wasn’t about to give himself away on that. A quick internet search could get him up to speed so he could get Erin something she’d be happy with. “I’ll definitely have to keep an eye out for a nice comte and pinot noir.” To say he was beaming at the mention of doing this again would be an understatement. Erin was witty, smart, and undeniably gorgeous. And she wanted to spend more time with him. His confidence in the dating department hadn’t been the best post-divorce, but apparently his brief stroke of crazy forwardness had done him some favors. “Absolutely, I thought it was a nice time, too. I’ll talk to you soon and we can plan something.” He gave her a final wave and felt a newfound sense of excitement as he made his way back to this office.

[letsbenditlikebennett]

Friendship Never Ends || Ariana & Orion

TIMING: Yesterday evening PARTIES: @3starsquinn & @letsbenditlikebennett SUMMARY: Ariana finds out Rio was in a fire when she messages him to talk things over. She brings dinner to the hospital and they have a heart to heart. 

Ariana reread the message several times and her heart sank further with each one. She felt dissociated from her own body as she threw on a coat and hopped in her truck so she could rush to the hospital. She was worried for both Rio and Blanche, but the guilt she felt over staying with Rio for so long formed a lump in her throat that she couldn’t quite shove down. How could she have been so selfish? Didn’t Rio deserve the understanding he always seemed so willing to give other people? She pushed back the tears as she talked to the secretary and made her way to his room as quickly as she possibly could. As she walked in the room, she felt sick. The burns on his neck made her breath catch and she forgot for a moment to let it go. “Rio,” she croaked out as she hurried to take a seat by his bedside. “I’m so sorry. I should have-- I’m just glad you’re going to be okay. Oh god, you are going to be okay, right?” 

The only thing that Orion had worried about since getting here was how he was going to leave. He couldn’t stay here for too long. The hospital was not a safe place for him. His wounds would heal too quickly, the rest of his scars would be too visible, and worst of all his dad was roaming the halls somewhere. It was only a matter of time before the news got around that his son was here. At least the nurses had mostly believed that the various wounds along his arms were caused from the fire. Now, he had them hidden under the blankets, unable to hide behind his hoodie with the needles and tubes protruding from his arms. Ariana was the first to show up. She must have seen the text message as soon as Rio had sent it, and left immediately after. “Hey!” He tried to sound as excited as he could manage, but his voice was still dry and hoarse from the smoke. “Why would you be sorry?” His expression turned from excitement into confusion. This fire hadn’t had anything to do with her. Rio honestly didn’t know anything about the fire. “Yeah. I’ll be fine. Uh-” Considering the animosity between the two, now might not have been the best time to bring it up, but Rio tried for a smile and shrugged, “Perks of hunter healing I guess. But- Not everyone was that lucky.” Rio couldn’t stop thinking about the officer, he had heard the name Roland multiple times. He had saved their lives, and lost his in the process. Rio couldn’t get the image out of his head. “Blanche and my boss, Erin, are going to have it worse than me. It’s not fair.”

Hiding her emotions had never been her strong suit, but for Rio’s sake, Ariana did her best to refrain from frowning when she heard just how battered his voice sounded. As she looked him over, it became so apparent how close she could have been to losing him. That he could have been gone forever before they had ever gotten the chance to talk things over and make up. She’d been so harsh with him and that very well could have been their last conversation. The realization sat heavy in her chest as she nodded slowly. He didn’t seem to understand why she was sorry, and she tried to explain, “Rio, you could have-- Without us ever.” She looked down at her hands that were now clasped firmly in her lap. The tension in her shoulders was able to relax a little when he assured he’d be okay. She still worried for Blanche though the fact Erin was involved in this left her feeling suspicious. That wasn’t what was important right now. She looked over to Rio earnestly and softly answered, “I could have lost you without ever getting to make up. I could have lost you while you still thought I was upset with you. I just-- I’m really glad you’re going to be okay. You’re my friend and I care about you, even when I was mad and I promise I’ll try to be a little more patient going forward, okay?” Hunter healing was a bonus in this case and if anyone deserved to have that ability, it was Rio. She wished he could have met Celeste, but shook the thought away quickly. “Blanche is going to be okay, too, though, right?” She couldn’t feign concern for Erin, especially not when she had the hunch her shady business had something to do with this. 

Even in pain, Orion was just incredibly happy that Ariana wanted to talk. Rio could never blame Ariana’s anger. It had felt like a double edged sword, most of the time. With his friends, he either withheld the truth knowing that he was lying to them about who he was or he told the truth and risked them hating him. It didn’t feel like a battle he could win. How could he even blame them? He didn’t like or trust hunters when he was one himself, so how could he ever expect a werewolf or selkie or any other supernatural creature to? So he kept the truth to himself. Rio sat up in the bed, careful to try to keep the blanket covering his body. It shouldn’t be too hard to pass some of the injuries off on the fire, but he didn’t want to cause Ariana anymore worry. She hadn’t had an easy few months, and this was just one more layer of stress. “Hey I don’t-” Rio paused. Who knew all it took was almost dying for things to start to get better? But that’s not what Rio wanted this to be. He needed Ariana to be as angry as she needed to be. “You had every right to be mad. And I don’t want you to have to forgive me just because of… this. I’m going to be okay.” They still had plenty of time to make up. As much as Rio wanted to be friends again, he didn’t want to rush her into anything. “I care about you too. A lot. But you don’t have to promise anything. You never did anything wrong.” Thinking about Blanche made Rio’s heart hurt. In that funeral home, when the two were so sure that they were about to die, Blanhe’s words had really gotten to him. It was what got him back on his feet again. She had to be okay. “I think so. She had it the worst of us three I think, but I’m getting updates. She seems stable.”

Even if she had still been truly mad about everything, how kind he was being would make it hard to stay that way. Ariana shook her head and assured, “No, this isn’t because of that-- I wanted to see you before anyway, remember? This just-- It kind of puts things in perspective you know.” Any day, especially in White Crest, something bad could happen. The reminder just made her want to keep those she loved as close to her as possible. “I’d already forgiven you and moved on, it’s just-- You and Blanche, you both could have died in there and I’d feel terrible if we never got to talk first.” At the confirmation that Blanche was going to be alright she relaxed a little bit. She let out a breath she hadn’t even realized she’d been holding and leaned back in the cold hospital chair. “I’m really glad both of you are going to be okay.” There was relief, but she knew she needed to get this off her chest. She let out a sigh and looked at Rio, “I know you didn’t not tell me with the intention of hurting my feelings. Knowing you-- I get why you wouldn’t want to tell people. Finding out from Athena just really sucked. But I do want you to know you can tell me these things. I’m never going to think less of you or anything like that. I know you’re a good person and if I’m being honest, I’ve really missed you.” 

“Right. We already had plans, of course.” Orion had to remind himself that people truly thought that he was worth friendship. As much as he tried to think about that, he always had that voice in the back of his head reminding him that he wasn’t. Or pointing out that people only hung out with him because of pity. The voice sucked, but had been such a loud, consistent noise ringing in his head that it was hard to ignore. Even when logically, Rio knew it wasn’t true. “Me too. I’m so glad that she’s okay.” And Rio was glad that he was alive too. He didn’t want to die. Not anymore. “I know, and I really am sorry. With everyone else knowing it’s-“ Rio sighed, “I should have told you.” That was the truth. Even if everyone else had mostly found out by accident or by necessity, the fact was that everyone else in their friend group knew the truth. It was like a secret that everyone but Ariana was in on. It hadn’t been intentional, but Rio understood why it still hurt. “I just want you to know that it was never you. I never worried you’d tell people or that I couldn’t trust you with it. I trust you with my life, the same way I trust Winston and Blanche and Layla and our other friends.” Diving deep into the truth was hard, and Rio wasn’t sure he quite knew all the reasons behind his various problems. But a little honesty and exposure couldn’t hurt. “It’s that I’m ashamed of it. I’ve always hated myself for being linked to them. I’m stuck with these abilities that are objectively amazing. It makes it hard to complain about and yet I’d do anything to get rid of them. To stop feeling like I’m some sort of monster. So I never liked telling people because I didn’t want them to think the same things I thought about myself.” Rio sighed, a sense of relief washing over after he was done. Speaking it out loud felt good, but he didn’t want the message to get washed away by pity or Ariana feeling like Rio was trying to beg her for sympathy. “But I’m not telling you that begging for sympathy or asking you to forgive and forget the pain. I just want to be honest with you now. It’s the least I can do after keeping you in the dark. Because I miss you too.”

“Yeah,” Ariana whispered softly and took a few moments to just listen to Rio. To try and understand why he had kept what he was from her though the more he spoke, the more she frowned. There was a distinct difference in how they viewed what they were. Ariana was proud of being a wolf. She didn’t view it as something that made her bad even though it made her more of a threat to those who would dare to hurt her or those she cared about. The way he saw himself was entirely different and broke Ariana’s heart. She couldn’t help the tears that welled up in her eyes as he explained how he hated himself. How ashamed he was with the abilities he was born with. Part of her wanted to reach out and hug him, but she wasn’t sure if it’d make him feel better or worse. She looked at him with misty eyes and softly responded, “Rio, you aren’t-- You’re so good. You don’t have a bad bone in your body. It’s not about what you’re born, it’s about what you do with it and you’ve got the biggest heart of anyone I know.” She leaned forward in her seat a bit and added, “You were born with hunter abilities, but you don’t use them to hunt others. You’re like Celeste in that way and she’s literally the greatest person I’ve ever known.” She wished they could have met. Maybe Celeste would have been able to help him come to terms with everything. “I know changing the way you see yourself can’t be easy, but I’m here to help however I can and remind you that you’re one of the best people I know… and you know, I know some pretty amazing people,” she added the last part with a light laugh at the end. “I appreciate you being honest with me. Understanding, well, it kind of makes it easier to know that it wasn’t me.” 

“Oh no. You can’t cry!” Orion wanted to laugh, because Ariana was one of the funniest, happiest people he knew and he missed being able to laugh with her. When he did try to laugh, it came out raspy and strained. “If you cry I’m going to cry too.” Rio wanted to keep things lighthearted. There was enough to be freaked out about right now. The least he could do was try to make things a little less stressful on Ariana. But even though he said it, Rio’s eyes were already swelling up. “I wish I could have met her. She was taken from you too soon.” Rio was so lucky to have friends like Ariana and the others that knew about Rio’s self doubts and tried to help him. They had no way of truly knowing how much it had changed his life. “Thank you. For everything, seriously. For everything you’ve done since we’ve been friends. And for visiting me. And mostly for bringing me food.” Because Rio had been starving since he got here. It seemed stupid now, but he just remembered that he had never been able to finish his wrap. “I’m just really glad we get to hang out again.”

“It’s not my birthday, but I’ll still cry if I want to,” Ariana joked with a misty-eyed laugh in hopes it would lift both of their spirits a bit. Rio had always been spazzy and a little insecure, but she hated to think he couldn’t see what she saw. Whenever she looked to Rio, she saw kindness and warmth. She saw someone who was way smarter than her, but would never dream of making her feel like she was anything but capable. She saw a person, who like Celeste, was able to look past what their parents tried to teach them and decided what was right for themselves. It took an incredible amount of strength and courage. Yet he still hated himself for something that was out of his control. They were both crying a bit now, but she felt inclined to add, “Just do me a favor, try and remember that things that are out of our control aren’t who we are. It’s what we choose to do with those things. You choose to be kind and open minded and I think that makes you one of the best people I know.” She nodded and simply agreed about Celeste, “She was.” At the mention of food, she opened her backpack and pulled out a big thermos full of chili. She’d have to drop these clothes by Blanche’s room soon, too. She grabbed the tray by his bed and poured some in the bowl part of the lid. She pulled a sleeve of crackers out to go with it. “I conveniently had some chilli going in the slow cooker today. I’ve always thought it’s a good comfort food. I know it’s for sure better than anything here, but I did also bring Oreos.” She smiled at him and felt relieved to finally understand why he hadn’t felt comfortable telling her. “Me too, Rio, me too.”

[starttheanarchy]

@thehandsomeasshole from x

Jack did smile at the little sass she threw his way, despite himself. “Well, empty, those things weigh nearly five tonnes. So, nice try. I guess.” He chose to ignore her initial comment about using the loaders for their designed purpose. There was not enough patience in Jack’s body to unpack all of that right now.

“Oh, the vaults are definitely a curse. But, once you get the ball rolling around here, there’s not really anything anyone can do to stop it.” Jack shrugged lightly, scanning through the first four pages while he spoke, “You just… gotta do what you can before another idiot comes along and screws everything up even worse than you did.”

“Nah, you’re right. Princess made me feel a little icky. How about… I- I’ll get back to you, I’ll think of something real good.” he laughed lightly, beginning to scribble down some notes on the papers before he continued.

“You sure as hell act like ‘em, you and your bandit buddies. Just exactly how many things or people have you killed since you got to Pandora? Hey, look, I’ll even give wildlife a pass cause- Well, you could kill a hundred skags one day and the next day there’d be two hundred more. Let’s just focus on people. Maybe you’re not running around screaming about meat bicycles, and maybe it is a little rude of me, but it’s also correct. You just don’t wanna admit it.”

“The people who are still decent in this universe are few and far, kid. In my entire life, I’ve only met two people who were truly selfless.” One’s dead and the other’s… worse. “But, you do realise that if it wasn’t me up here, it’d just be someone else? Hell, Dahl and Atlas would still be plowing through planets like they’re big balls of paper and slaughtering everyone in their way while going off about fighting for those planets’ freedoms and peace.”

“Ooh, I love tyrant! Has a nice ring to it, don’t you think? Always considered myself more notorious, than anything else.” The sharp, almost humorous-sounding edge to his voice gave the impression he was teasing her, “Kid, it’s nothin’ I haven’t heard before. You really think I’m gonna be kicking it anytime soon, anyway? Nah. Nope, not happening! I got way too much to do.”

Jack’s brows knitted together and slowly raised in a mixture of surprise and confusion. Sure, maybe she didn’t care, he’d just never had a person who hated him ask for his side of the story before.

He decided not to express his shock.

“So, I’d been working on Helios since it launched, I was, uh-… A- a programming and engineering specialist for Hyperion for ten, fifteen years, maybe. I was in charge of most of the construction, getting together schematic proposals to give to my bosses, all that kinda shit.”

“The first time I met Lilith and Roland was when Dahl decided they wanted to massacre all the workers on Helios and take it over. They… They didn’t discriminate. If you worked for Hyperion, they’d gun you down without even batting an eye. They killed so many of the workers up here, I knew them all personally. We- we didn’t even have a real military then, for God’s sake! They shot workers out of the sky when they were trying to evacuate. That was the level of murderous psychopaths we were trying to deal with. We defended as best as we could, but even the freaking loaders weren’t weaponised yet, I had like… Six hours to get them into a position to defend themselves, and you bet your ass I did it. I guess that actually answers your earlier question, too. I used them for a job they weren’t made for out of necessity, the damn Lost Legion shot at them when they were running away, too. Assholes.”

“I managed to get the vault hunter’s I’d hired down to Elpis in a moonshot, think you’ve met a couple of them. They got to Concordia thanks to-” Shit. He hadn’t actually thought about Janey in a while. He’d ask Athena how they were both doing, but she’d probably curb stop his head before he could even say hello. “-uh, this mechanic. They asked Lilith and Roland to help cause, y'know, Dahl had stuck a jamming signal somewhere on that moon and I couldn’t work Helios’s defences until it was shut off. They knew people on Helios were dying, and they said no.”

“They only started to help when their lives were in immediate danger and Dahl got control of the moonshot laser and start firing away at Elpis. I really did trust 'em to help us, y'know? Like they promised they would.”

“I guess they kinda did. We managed to get control of the laser again and… They blew it up. They nearly took the whole space station down just because they didn’t want Hyperion having it. That stupid laser could’ve saved Pandora, you know. It could’ve- The blasts were so concentrated we could’ve wiped out an entire bandit settlement and their nice neighbours next door would’ve barely felt the ground tremble. I’d worked so hard on that laser. You have any idea how hard it was to make? How much progress they destroyed when they blew that damn thing up? A lot! A whole, freaking lot and-… Sorry. Off topic. Uh…”

He made a small noise, “Oh, yeah. Anyway, after that it was just a rush trying to get to the vault before anyone else did. Dahl was already there, but after what happened with those two I wouldn’t have been surprised if they got to the vault first just so we couldn’t.”

“But, we did. My vault hunters took care of the- The Empyrean Sentinel, I think they called it. Big bastard, more human than the other vault monsters. Freaky stuff.”

“So, the Sentinel was dead, and we finally got to the vault relic. It looked like… Nothing. Very underwhelming. Just a weird little floating vault symbol. I decided to touch it and-…” Jack went quiet for a while, his knuckles growing white with how tightly he was gripping the armrests of his chair, “And I saw… everything.”

He felt sick even talking about it. The pit in his stomach growing deeper and he knew if he didn’t stop soon he’d fall into a full blown breakdown. So, he took a shaky breath in and continued.

“Wasn’t long after that when Lilith made her grand entrance. She destroyed the relic and- blasted the fuck out of my face. You ever had your face branded by some freaky eridian technology? It sucks. Real bad.”

He let his head drop back, and he rubbed his eyes, “So, there’s my side. Think I can quit my day job and become a professional story teller?” Though he tried to make a joke, the fire in his voice seemed to have dissipated. He just sounded… tired.

A rumbling high pitched cry of a living creature, the soft hum of a laser heating up. Before the spiderant can fully leave the ground in its attempt to launch itself at the red head, a quick shot from the head of DT turns it into ash. Moments later the large floating torso of a robot moves its way over to where the rest of the spiderants are and begins clearing the area with ease. "To be fair DT is a floating robot, I should get props for him being able to lift anything over a tonne at all." Is all she can say as she watches her creation be used not exactly for what she had originally intended.

A noise of agreement left her as she nodded her head, this was a mess that she was playing catch up on. Every step revealed a new and sometimes old issues or problems, and untold horrors that would explain some of the residents insanity.

"Oh so what am I suppose to not fight back and die? Self-defense is a thing." She keeps her lips tight on the actual number of people, she knows it is higher then she ever wanted.

Another reason to the countless hours she was stuck away while the others rested. But that is a mental spiral that no one has seen yet even herself, and Gaige wasn't going to break that record.

"Do you realize that it doesn't matter who, I would still be here. I would cause just as much chaos even if it was Maliwan or Torgue, the company doesn't matter, it is the enormity of the actions that are taking place that I have a grievance against. So once I am done with this, I got a whole check list to work through."

A small tsk as her eyes roll once more, she could already feel the odd ache from rolling them too often. But to want the title of tyrant why trying to claim being a hero? And he was calling her a hypocrite, the gall. But then there is silence after her offer. It is enough to get her to move forwards, the area now clear of deadly wildlife, and to sit down on top one of the ridges. And she could hear him begin in her ear, truly starting fro the beginning.

Her hand goes to her vault buckle, slipping it off and clicking it open to show a hidden system of her own design. A small holoscreen flickered to life above it and she began to take notes, to be able to keep her questions to herself and not interrupt. But before she could really take much, she had to slowly turn her eyes back to that giant floating H as he began to talk about the first real blood shed the station ever saw. No one deserved that kind of fate, let alone those who can't even fight back. And she could understand why loaders were used for what they are, even if there had been enough time to design something new.

Through out the whole story she let out the occasional hum or tsk in reaction, but also to let the man on the other side of the echo understand she was still listening.

A mechanic on Concordia? Something to ask others later on, there couldn't be many considering the lack of them on Pandora. As well as to ask on the reason why for the initial no considering at that point the vault hunters as far as she was aware had no issues with Hyperion, let alone Jack.

And she was torn on the laser because she could understand the pain of such handwork just ripped away. And she had a vague idea on how challenging it was with the laser that rested inside DT's head. But at the same time, she would never want anyone to have a laser of that magnitude considering if it could do that to a bandit settlement. Well it would only be a few tweaks away from being able to glass planets.

She paused in her notes when he mentioned seeing everything, it was hard to believe but there was something in his voice that made her believe he certainly saw something he shouldn't have. Gaige was going to have to go back onto that one on a different day since she could tell that right now was a horrible time to do so. And even as he talked about what Lilith did and the reason why he wore a mask, she could head just how this was not the cocky Jack from earlier.

This was a person who was done but still going. Something that it seemed being near Pandora did to people.

"Well I would say quit your day job regardless and stop all this without anymore murder. But we both know we are too far in to be willing to stop." A small click as she closed the cover on the buckle to once more hide away her person little holounit that stored information that she kept only for herself. The notes saved for review for another day. "I do have questions, but you sound..... Rough. Would you rather a topic change? Or just end this call? I do have things to do, and I'm sure you have plenty of ill placed paper work to finish."

[thehandsomeasshole]

@starttheanarchy from X

"Then why use them for a job they are not meant for, just keep them to their original purpose and make something new that works for what you need. And because quality work will save in the long term with less repairs, replacements, and malfunctions over all. And your welcome." The wide grin could be heard in her last three words. She was raised to have some manners after all. "And DT could probably do it as long as the load weight isn't over hmmm..." She drifts off as fingers tap together, mental math being calculated. "Eight tonne? Maybe less. I'm not exactly sure on that front since I actually haven't tested his limits on that front. Hmm something to test another day." Her eyes drifted over the floating form of her robot as it stayed ever vigilant of her surroundings. She knew it could do some heavy lifting since she had used previous versions to move things in the junk yard.

Eyes roll at yet another reason on why to avoid corporations, and another as he seems to enjoy being a pest.

"Actually last thing I did was fix up several things that were in disrepair in Overlook, since too much of the population of that poor town have the skull-shivers and had no access to the medicine. Something about repair tickets being ignored or something like that. And I didn't come here for the shallow reason of becoming rich, I'm opening the vault to try and prevent a very clearly corrupt corporation from monopolization on something that might be a blessing or a curse." If she had it her way, she would keep it locked forever since no one has a full understanding of the capabilities and issues of Eridium that began to spawn after the first one opened. To many variables and yet everyone wanting to just add more into the chaos.

"Yes, yes. The definition fits, but you seem to think I am on the same level of depravity like the Fleshrippers or the Bloodshots. To which all I can say is, rude and incorrect. And princess? Really?" That got her to shoot a glare back at the space station.

"Not everyone. Yes there are people who still deserve a chance to be treated like a decent human because they are. But you seem to be hard at work for making it so those people are just as dead as the rest. And you are right, no one has used an army of robots to lay siege on a planet in the name of their own ideals. They used armies of people, and all of them were considered like a plague upon humanity in the context of history. Dictators, tyrants, oppressors, authoritarians, monsters. Wonder how will you be written down."

At the laughter, and how it grew as she talked about what started this whole hot mess off for her on planet side, it made her skin itch with irritation. Out of everything on this fucking disaster hellscape, it was Hyperion that tried to kill her first. Sure others might have had to deal with bandits at other stops, but she went from off the inter-space shuttle to the train with no issues.

It was fair to say Jack was the first person to try to actually kill her. Even when escaping Eden-5 they were aiming for capture to make her life a living hell instead of a death sentience. It was one of the reasons she was trying so damn hard to keep surviving at this point, out of spite for the asshole who tried to kill them after using some shitty signs to inform them of their supposed doom.

Hands were clenched into fists and she could feel a chill roll through her body. It was like the ice never left at times.

A deep breath as she turns her face to the sun that burns the landscape, she is fine and alive. And she isn't going to follow his script and get pissed. She isn't going to scream like everyone else on this planet. The Mechromancer is going to do what she always does, go against what is expected.

"How about you tell me something else instead. You worked with the Crimson Raiders? What happened? What is the full story, from beginning to end?" Her voice is calm and even, one that seems to hold no judgment and wanting to listen. And she does, after all there isn't much information on the group. Gaige had no plans to jump ship, but she honestly had as much trust for them as she did for most anyone on this planet that wasn't shooting at her. Eden-5 taught her that the only person she could ever trust was her father and the friends she created with her own two hands.

"No bullshit, no propaganda. Just your side of the story. I have time."

Jack did smile at the little sass she threw his way, despite himself. "Well, empty, those things weigh nearly five tonnes. So, nice try. I guess." He chose to ignore her initial comment about using the loaders for their designed purpose. There was not enough patience in Jack's body to unpack all of that right now.

"Oh, the vaults are definitely a curse. But, once you get the ball rolling around here, there's not really anything anyone can do to stop it." Jack shrugged lightly, scanning through the first four pages while he spoke, "You just… gotta do what you can before another idiot comes along and screws everything up even worse than you did."

"Nah, you're right. Princess made me feel a little icky. How about… I- I'll get back to you, I'll think of something real good." he laughed lightly, beginning to scribble down some notes on the papers before he continued. 

"You sure as hell act like 'em, you and your bandit buddies. Just exactly how many things or people have you killed since you got to Pandora? Hey, look, I'll even give wildlife a pass cause- Well, you could kill a hundred skags one day and the next day there'd be two hundred more. Let's just focus on people. Maybe you're not running around screaming about meat bicycles, and maybe it is a little rude of me, but it's also correct. You just don't wanna admit it."

"The people who are still decent in this universe are few and far, kid. In my entire life, I've only met two people who were truly selfless." One's dead and the other’s… worse. "But, you do realise that if it wasn't me up here, it'd just be someone else? Hell, Dahl and Atlas would still be plowing through planets like they're big balls of paper and slaughtering everyone in their way while going off about fighting for those planets' freedoms and peace."

"Ooh, I love tyrant! Has a nice ring to it, don't you think? Always considered myself more notorious, than anything else." The sharp, almost humorous-sounding edge to his voice gave the impression he was teasing her, "Kid, it's nothin' I haven't heard before. You really think I'm gonna be kicking it anytime soon, anyway? Nah. Nope, not happening! I got way too much to do."

Jack's brows knitted together and slowly raised in a mixture of surprise and confusion. Sure, maybe she didn't care, he'd just never had a person who hated him ask for his side of the story before.

He decided not to express his shock.

"So, I'd been working on Helios since it launched, I was, uh-... A- a programming and engineering specialist for Hyperion for ten, fifteen years, maybe. I was in charge of most of the construction, getting together schematic proposals to give to my bosses, all that kinda shit."

"The first time I met Lilith and Roland was when Dahl decided they wanted to massacre all the workers on Helios and take it over. They… They didn't discriminate. If you worked for Hyperion, they'd gun you down without even batting an eye. They killed so many of the workers up here, I knew them all personally. We- we didn't even have a real military then, for God's sake! They shot workers out of the sky when they were trying to evacuate. That was the level of murderous psychopaths we were trying to deal with. We defended as best as we could, but even the freaking loaders weren't weaponised yet, I had like… Six hours to get them into a position to defend themselves, and you bet your ass I did it. I guess that actually answers your earlier question, too. I used them for a job they weren't made for out of necessity, the damn Lost Legion shot at them when they were running away, too. Assholes."

"I managed to get the vault hunter's I'd hired down to Elpis in a moonshot, think you've met a couple of them. They got to Concordia thanks to-" Shit. He hadn't actually thought about Janey in a while. He'd ask Athena how they were both doing, but she'd probably curb stop his head before he could even say hello. "-uh, this mechanic. They asked Lilith and Roland to help cause, y'know, Dahl had stuck a jamming signal somewhere on that moon and I couldn't work Helios's defences until it was shut off. They knew people on Helios were dying, and they said no."

"They only started to help when their lives were in immediate danger and Dahl got control of the moonshot laser and start firing away at Elpis. I really did trust 'em to help us, y'know? Like they promised they would."

"I guess they kinda did. We managed to get control of the laser again and… They blew it up. They nearly took the whole space station down just because they didn't want Hyperion having it. That stupid laser could've saved Pandora, you know. It could've- The blasts were so concentrated we could've wiped out an entire bandit settlement and their nice neighbours next door would've barely felt the ground tremble. I'd worked so hard on that laser. You have any idea how hard it was to make? How much progress they destroyed when they blew that damn thing up? A lot! A whole, freaking lot and-... Sorry. Off topic. Uh…"

He made a small noise, "Oh, yeah. Anyway, after that it was just a rush trying to get to the vault before anyone else did. Dahl was already there, but after what happened with those two I wouldn't have been surprised if they got to the vault first just so we couldn't."

"But, we did. My vault hunters took care of the- The Empyrean Sentinel, I think they called it. Big bastard, more human than the other vault monsters. Freaky stuff."

"So, the Sentinel was dead, and we finally got to the vault relic. It looked like… Nothing. Very underwhelming. Just a weird little floating vault symbol. I decided to touch it and-..." Jack went quiet for a while, his knuckles growing white with how tightly he was gripping the armrests of his chair, "And I saw… everything."

He felt sick even talking about it. The pit in his stomach growing deeper and he knew if he didn't stop soon he'd fall into a full blown breakdown. So, he took a shaky breath in and continued.

"Wasn't long after that when Lilith made her grand entrance. She destroyed the relic and- blasted the fuck out of my face. You ever had your face branded by some freaky eridian technology? It sucks. Real bad."

He let his head drop back, and he rubbed his eyes, "So, there's my side. Think I can quit my day job and become a professional story teller?" Though he tried to make a joke, the fire in his voice seemed to have dissipated. He just sounded… tired.

[jane-the-zombie]

Jailhouse Rock || Roland, Felix, & Jane

TIMING: A Couple Weeks Ago LOCATION: WCPD Station PARTIES: @streetharmacist, @sgtrolandhills, @jane-the-zombie SUMMARY: Mister Doyle tells Detective Wu that he was with Agent Sterling when he disappeared. The detective and Sgt. Hills take his statement while Mister Doyle eats nuts.

It didn’t feel right to continue on watching the movie alone and as it was, the peanuts had melted in his pockets. Felix just hoped Bea was alright. The incident with Javier had been weighing on him in an unexpected kind of way. Unexpected in that he readily relayed information to a law enforcement officer. He should have been concerned but he couldn’t find it in him as he stepped out of the taxi cab that stopped him in front of the White Crest Police Department. He adjusted his plum tie as he walked in. The person at the front desk raised their head and when he met their eyes, he grinned. “Hiya. Nice night, huh? Is officer Jane Wu here? I was telling her about some concerns and geez, do I have some. Would you do a guy a favor and ring her?”

Of course Felix was involved. Jane had sat at her desk with her head in her hands for approximately 15 minutes after Felix assured her he was coming down. She was a little wary, she had seen what Felix’s eyes could do. There was no reasonable explanation for Agent Sterling to flat out climb into the Devil’s Gullet. Could Felix have done something to him? She’d excused Felix for doing it the first time considering that man had a knife on them both, but she couldn’t imagine Javier having tried to do something to Felix like that. The front desk buzzed her, and Jane sighed, getting out of her chair to collect Felix, stopping to pop her head into Roland’s office. “F - Mr. Doyle is here. I’ll take him to interrogation.” She went to the front desk, looking at Felix tiredly. “Hello, Mr. Doyle,” Jane said, eying him. She still wasn’t sure that she trusted any of the other personnel to actually handle Felix. “This way, please.”

The messages Wu had screenshot and sent to Roland had left him concerned for Agent Sterling. Drugs were the most logical answer which left him deeply concerned for the man’s wellbeing. There was the big question of what had caused this apparent malfunction in his mind and whether or not it was consumed willingly. Either way, they needed to get to the bottom of it. When Wu had told them they had a lead coming in, Roland felt a wave of relief. He hadn’t been making much headway on the situation and he hoped this witness could help them find answers. “Let’s see what he has to say,” he commented as he followed Jane into the interrogation room. “Hello, Mr. Doyle,” he greeted, extending his hand for a shake, “Detective Wu here tells me you may have some information on Agent Sterling?”

As Jane came around the corner, Felix about beamed at her. Always nice to see a friend, if the circumstances were less than desirable. But hey, there were worse ways to spend a Friday night than discussing potential crimes. “Mr. Doyle, that’s a new one,” he said with a laugh, hand up in a light wave. “You got it, detective.” He followed her and took in the joint as he walked. It looked about the same as the other ones had been to before. They all really started to look the same after a while as it was. An easy, unbothered smile eased onto his face as he walked into interrogation. The room looked the same too. As the man came into the room, Felix turned to look at him. “Hello yourself, sheriff,” he said as he met the shake with his own. The smile slipped some as he nodded. “I do, yeah. Figured I oughta come share it with you fine folks. It felt like the right thing to do after all.” He glanced over to Jane before he adjusted his glasses. “I was with him last. Mind if I sit or something?”

Detective. Instant regret was what Jane was feeling. She shouldn’t have called him Mr. Doyle. He was never going to let her live it down. But she kept her face passive as they entered the interrogation room. “Sergeant,” Jane corrected, automatically, looking between the two. Sheriff. Oh god, maybe they should have done a phone call. But realistically, Jane knew that since Felix was the last person to see him that he could be incriminated at whatever happened to Javier. Jane didn’t want that. Jane really didn’t want that. She wanted him to go down for what she had been chasing him for all those years for, if at all. “Yeah, take a seat, Mr. Doyle.” Jane nodded to to the chair, before taking a seat herself, taking her notepad out along with a pen. She glanced up at Felix, silently begging him to behave. “Why don’t you start with what happened when you saw him?” Jane encouraged.

Roland had been grateful Wu was the one to correct his current rank. Maybe one day he could call himself Sheriff, but today wasn’t the day. He nodded along as Jane told Felix he could take a seat. There was no need for him to reiterate the point. He had his own notepad and pen out, but kept a close eye on Mr. Doyle’s face. Studying body language as people spoke was important and he was very keen to get to the bottom of what was going on with Agent Sterling. “Yes, please, start from the beginning.” He watched Felix expectantly, waiting for some sort of answer that would help them piece together what the hell was going on.

The fae fought the urge to roll his eyes. Sergeant. Sheriff. Detective. They were human titles. Felix kept his expression even with a hint of an apologetic smile. “Right, of course. Apologies.” Was a word. He offered it with a loose gesture as he unbuttoned his suit jacket so that he could sit a little more comfortably. Immediately, he laced his fingers together. Placed them on the table for them to see. He figured that would be important. “Well, I can absolutely tell you that I wasn’t going to start at the end,” he remarked as he straightened up. “Kidding. Anyhow, it all started when Javier, err, Agent Sterling and I were talking about mayonnaise. On the internet,” he started. “He asked me what I thought of the Devil’s Gullet and one thing or another led to us wanting to check the joint out. Together. Make a date of it or something. So we did.” He paused for a moment to look between Roland and Jane. “Is it alright if I reach into my pocket? I got some chocolate peanuts melting in there and I’m a little hungry.”

Jane shot Felix a look at his joke, but leaned forward slightly when he mentioned mayonnaise. She made a note - Javier had said someone had hacked him or something, and he spent hundreds of dollars on mayonnaise. Jane noted the Devil’s Gullet too, the area had exploded with a dead body as well as multiple human organs back in January, before she had been transferred there. Did that connect to the murders that Javier had been looking at - her train of thought was cut off by Felix. “You - what?” Jane stared at him, already exasperated. “Felix, you’re not under arrest right now, yes you can reach into your pocket.” This was going to be a long night. “What happened at the Gullet, Felix. You told me he - what as it - got in it? What happened when you two got there?” She couldn’t ask him if he flashlight eyes’d him with Roland in the room, and she didn’t know what she was going to do if he did.

The people of White Crest were nothing if not eccentric. Roland knew his features looked slightly perplexed at the mention of talking about mayonnaise over the internet. It seemed like a strange thing to kick off a potential meet-up. Did people really love mayonnaise that much? It was okay on a sandwich or in a potato salad, but he wasn’t sure he followed. Could the strange gibberish language he was speaking be linked to any of this? “So, you two went to Devil’s Gullet. What happened there,” he questioned. The question about going into his pocket caught him off guard. “Of course, you can go into your pocket. You’re here as a witness, not a prisoner.” For now, at least, though he doubted the man would be volunteering to come give information that would be incriminating. Or maybe he would. It was hard to get a good read on Felix.

“Figured it was safer to ask,” Felix said as he unlaced his hands and wasted no time in grabbing a handful of melted peanuts. He popped a couple into his mouth, chewed, then started to speak again once he swallowed. “Anyhow, so I met him here and we headed straight to the Gullet. Y’know, talked about pie as people do. Just normal conversation. I didn’t think we talked about anything strange or enough to cause concern or nothing.” A weird, off brand pang of...maybe sadness hit him. He really did want to go get that pie. He matched the pain with another peanut. Felt a little better. “So we get there and we--Alright, I gotta say, I don’t really get spooked all too much but the place really can give a guy the heebie-jeebies. The Gullet is like heebie-jeebies town square, you dig?” He looked between the two again before he continued. “But we get to the hole and Javier starts talking about someone being in there.” He accentuated the statement by making a circle shape with his hands. “I didn’t see or hear anything. Not. A. Thing. But he was real convinced.” The fae frowned and sat back. “Convinced enough to just go in, I guess.”

If Roland wasn’t here, Jane would have just flat out asked Felix if his eyes had made Javier decide to take a venture into the Devil’s Gullet. It was a hyperfixation - an anxiety tic, even as Jane hurriedly wrote a few notes on Felix’s notes, glancing up at him when he mentioned the heebie jeebies. “I dig, Mr. Doyle” Jane said flatly. Everytime she said Mr. Doyle she was pretty sure a few years got shaved off her lifespan. She pressed her lips together as she listened. “Did he say why he wanted to check the Gullet out? Like he knew that he would be, um, hearing things there?” How long had Felix said the madness lasted? A while, right? Jane stared at Felix, her head tilting to the side slightly, eyes narrowing as she examined him. Definitely not the first time she gave him the cop stare, as if she could unravel all her questions and just figure out what had happened. “What did you do after he went into the Gullet, Felix?”

While Roland had been in town a while now, he’d never found himself compelled to check out the Gullet recreationally. He vaguely knew there were some bodies found there a few months back. It wasn’t his case and he didn’t particularly go seeking thrills for fun. If he was outdoors, he was camping or fishing, not visiting a place just because it gave him the “heebie jeebies.” The bodies could have been of interest to Agent Sterling, but something about this just didn’t add up. So with Jane’s next question, he nodded and leaned forward, elbows resting on the tables, so he could watch Mr. Doyle closely. Try to find any further meaning in his words. “Did it seem like he may have been under the influence of something,” he added, not quite sure why Sterling would feel so dead set about going into the Gullet.

Given the seriousness of the location and the matters being discussed, Felix didn't smile at Jane’s utterance of I dig. But his mouth did lift slightly at the corners before it receded back to a straight line. “I think the rumors about the place interested him. I mean, heck, they interested me too,” he said as he shrugged with his hands. “Place with rumors like that, I can’t blame a fed for wanting to take a peep at it. Although in retrospect, not the most dynamite of ideas...” He glanced over to Jane as he idly tapped a finger against the table. He was all out of peanuts. “I saw a guy go headfirst into the hole, Jane,” he said with a frown. “Sorry, Detective Wu. So I got the heck out of there. I don’t know where or if that hole even ends.” He shook his head then looked over to Roland as he adjusted his glasses. “Unless he slipped himself something when I wasn’t looking, he seemed clear across the board to me. At least up until the dive he took. Your guy seemed the real straight-edge type, y’know?”

Detective Wu. God, what had she started? Jane’s mouth twitched upwards, and she had to fight to keep it pressed together in a thin line. This was a serious situation, since apparently Javier had taken a nose dive into the Devil’s Gullet. She glanced at Roland, concerned. God, Felix, what did you do? Jane shifted back into her seat, examining Felix closely a moment before running an exasperated hand down her face as she digested what Felix said. “Well, Agent Sterling is a cop,” she reminded him. Well, at least she knew that he hadn’t been doing drugs with Javier and that any he consumed were likely of Javier’s own accord. She remembered the strange language that Javier had been speaking. “Mr. Doyle,” Jane started, shooting him a look. “Did Javier say anything in any strange languages that you didn’t recognize? Or did he say anything that, at the time, may have not meant anything at, but stick out to you now?”

The look on Roland’s face was nothing short of horrified when Felix explained that Agent Sterling had dived head first into the Gullet. What were the odds that he actually survived the fall? Something wasn’t right here. Why had Javier gone off in some sort of strange language before going off to the Gullet? Had Felix really not noticed anything further off about him? This whole situation didn’t add up and Roland found himself becoming increasingly frustrated. His knuckles turned white as he gripped the edge of the chair he was leaning on. He turned to Jane and stated, “We’ll need to get a team down to investigate the Gullet and someone over to check his home.” He looked back to Felix and with a grumble said, “You should have contacted emergency services sooner. Did you notice anything or anyone else at the Gullet that could have cause his reaction?”

It wasn’t Felix’s first time being held under a police-branded microscope but like the sergeant had said, he wasn’t exactly a suspect of any crime. Even if the circumstances sure as heck were. Even the fae could admit that. The way Jane scrutinized him, he had a feeling what she might be thinking. She had seen firsthand what his eyes could do when under pressure or hell, when he just felt like it. A brow quirked over the rim of his glasses as he shook his head slightly. Then, he took his glasses off. Folded them and put them in his suit pocket. “Strange languages? Depending on who you ask, English can be pretty strange,” he said with a puff of a breath. “But nah, no weird languages from what I can remember. Said he liked the lake, liked pie, we talked about whether or not the devil really lives in the hole. That sorta stuff. And we just walked. It was a real quiet place. I didn’t see nobody or hear nobody, but he swore up and down he heard someone needing help. That there was a path.” Bare-eyed, Felix looked up at Roland. Figures the guy would be upset when he didn’t call. He was too busy trying not to bust up the car as he drove it at a snail’s pace away. Left it near some abandoned, rusted garage not too far from the gullet. “The vehicle may or may not be there anymore,” he said as he ran his tongue over his teeth. “Ain’t exactly been back there myself, so worth having your guys look it over. Like you said, sergeant.”

Jane didn’t often see Felix without his glasses, so she was sort alarmed when he took them off, right after shaking his head. Was that supposed to be some sort of message? Jane glanced at Roland, knowing that he didn’t know what Felix was. Perhaps she was just reading too much into things, but now there was a bit of doubt that Felix had flashlight eyed Javier into going headfirst down in the Gullet. That made her feel better, at least a little, but now she was too busy trying to figure out what the hell was going on. “Yes, sir,” she said to Roland. She jotted down the orders from Roland, as well as what Felix said, before shooting Felix another look when he mentioned the vehicle ‘may or may not’ still be there. “I’ll have patrol cars circle up there to look for the missing vehicle, Sarge,” she said. Jane looked back to Felix. “Mister Doyle, is there anything else you can remember?” Jane prompted. “If not, I think we have what we need, Sarge. I can walk him out.”

While none of what Mr. Doyle was saying was what Roland had hoped to hear, it was enough for them to go on. It was likely Agent Sterling was already dead if he jumped down into the Gullet. He wished the man had called emergency services sooner. There was no use in dwelling on that now. His face was grim as Jane assured patrol cars would be out there soon. “Good,” he answered gruffly, “I’ll meet them out there. You’re welcome to join, Wu.” He’d scribbled down notes in his own file and looked back to Felix. “Thank you for coming in and letting us know what happened. In the future, please never hesitate to contact us right away.” With a nod, he told Jane, “I think we do. Detective Wu will see you out Mr. Doyle. Here’s my card, please let me know if you remember anything else.” He handed one of his cards to Felix in hopes and sent the pair off with a wave.

[danetobelieve]

Short Circuit || Jane and Winston

NB: This happened before the eye potw.

Ping. Jane swore quietly as another chat message popped up onto her computer. Admittedly, she wasn’t great with technology, but she knew how to use google like any other asshole. Except her work computer wouldn’t even let her use google. This had to be some sort of virus that Marley installed as a prank. It wouldn’t even let her force the machine to shut off and it hadn’t even run out of battery yet. Damn, she really regretted getting that replaced. She glanced over the message from KindledSpirit29. 

Why won’t you talk to me :’-(

She was certain that Marley had to have done it because her user name was SexyDetective. Nope, that did it. Jane slammed the laptop closed and tucked it under her arm as she went straight for Winston. She had an appointment with them to drop it off anyway, but this was getting ridiculous. “Hey Winston,” Jane said. “Here it is. Sorry, I swear I’ve tried everything, and the stupid thing won’t even shut off properly. It just starts flashing.” 

Winston had gotten permission from Roland to take the time off of work but they’d found themselves going in anyway. They’d wanted to be here with everyone else because at least then they weren’t alone with their own thoughts and they weren’t alone to crumble under Bea’s loss. Looking up, they shakily reached out and scooped up their mug of coffee and swallowed the cold dregs of it with a wince. They didn’t care enough to actually heat it up. “Hey Jane,” they said a little glumly but they could get away with acting as if they didn’t want to be at work, “don’t worry about it, from everything you’ve said to me it sounds like malware or something. I’m sure I can fix it. Let me take a look.” Winston had their recovery USB ready for this,  having all the software you needed in one place was a much more convenient way to do it. “Did you have to call yourself sexy detective though?” 

Oh shit, the kid looked pretty glum. Maybe Jane should have rescheduled or bothered her nephew to help her. He may be twelve, but that kid could do way more than her any day of the week. Maybe they just didn’t want to be at work. That tracked for a lot of twenty-something year olds. Still, she handed over her laptop, and shrugged. “I hope it’s that simple.” Computers were the devil - well, not really, but sometimes it seemed like every damn update they had were meant to muck up whatever older version was on there before and just cause more trouble. She frowned, looking at them. “I didn’t! At first it said DetectiveWu but it changed! Stryder must have changed it to be annoying.” Another ping from KindledSpirit29. 

Who is that? What are you doing?

Jane frowned. “Look at that. That’s creepy.”

 “That is really creepy,” Winston agreed with a frown as they plugged the USB drive into a port and began running various command lines to ping different functions and see just how deep the problem lay. “You think that Marley did this?” No offence, but Winston could already see from the sophistication of the design of the chat that this was not something that someone was just going to be able to pull up. This looked like a very specifically and deliberately designed function that someone had clear plans for. “Well, DetectiveWu, or sexydetective, I mean who am I to judge?” Winston was trying to be their usual sarcastic and jovial selves but right now it was hard. “I think that the problem is that whilst this just looks like a chat it is actually something more, i’ve heard that if you can talk to the bot it can give you answers which are clues on how to turn it off. I’ve never actually tried it but my only other idea is to entirely wipe the harddrive, so we might as well try that. Have you responded to any of the messages yet?” 

“You know, because of the prank war.” Jane looked over Winston’s should, watching them as they typed incoherent things onto the computer. Winston sounded like they doubted it, though. Jane frowned. “I don’t know how else it could have gotten on there, I have an airtight anti-virus on it. Or, well, it’s supposed to be an airtight antivirus…” Maybe someone had scammed her. That could always be a possibility but that was kind of annoying if that were true. Jane balked slightly when Winston said other than talking to it, the other option was to wipe her harddrive. Shit. She was sure she had a backup, but that was a lot of work. “No, I thought it was just some spam bot or something.”

I am not a spam bot! Talk to me :) Get rid of the kid. 

Jane wrinkled her nose. “Okay, maybe we should wipe the harddrive. That’s really freaky. How does it know - is it using my camera??” 

“Oh, right, yeah that was pretty funny for a few days although I’ve got to say you guys weren’t as imaginative as you could’ve been.” Winston didn’t want to brag but they were sure that they were more then capable of coming up with something better then the variety of pranks that Marley and Jane had played on one another. “Sometimes even if you’re really careful these things can happen, it’s fine, we can clean it up, I’d just rather not wipe everything if we can help it.” Winston examined the computer and frowned at the message. “I don’t think the camera’s on, but just in case.” They pulled a piece of masking tape off and firmly stuck it over the camera. “We can wipe it if you really want, but it’ll get rid of everything you’ve got on there, so if anything isn’t backed up….” 

“Are you saying I lack imagination,” Jane said, a grin growing on her face. Bold kid, funny too. “I thought the popcorn filled office space was imaginative.” And really annoying to clean up. “What would you have done  if you were in a prank war?” She was still considering gluing Sarge’s stuff to the ceiling. Or at the very least, paw patrol’s stuff to the ceiling. Maybe not the skulls though, he seemed a little too creepily attached to them. She watched as Winston stuck a piece of tape to the camera. “My father has a stamp stuck to his at home. Used to tell me big brother was always watching.” Jane considered a moment, before shaking her head. “Alright, alright. We can try responding to it.” Jane reached over, pulling the computer a little closer so she could type. What should she say? 

SexyDetective: How do I remove this from my computer? 

KindledSpirit: YOU WANT TO GET RID OF ME?! YOU DON’T EVEN KNOW ME YET!

There screen flashed. “Ah! See, this is what happens when I try to emergency shut down!!” 

“The popcorn stuff was very freaks and geeks,” Winston replied with a shrug, “I’m not saying that it wasn’t cool. It was. I just think you could’ve been more imaginative. Besides, did you think that Marley’s computer just started playing a Nic Cage soundboard spontaneously?” Winston shrugged gently. Getting involved in the unfolding prank war hadn’t been something that they had been planning but it was something that they had been roped into by Sarge and Winston couldn’t say no to him. “I mean, they can gain access to your camera, normally you don’t have to but I guess there’s no harm in always having one there and just taking it off when you need it. Winston watched everything that unfolded and frowned. “That’s weird, maybe ask it if you can get to know it in person? Worst comes to the worst you arrest a creep right?” 

“That was you?” Jane said. “She thought that was me! Ha! That’s hilarious,” Jane snickered. She didn’t know what the deal was with Nic Cage, but there was something about his face that and over all vocal intonations that made him especially annoying. God, when did she get to be a Nic Cage Hater? “I’ve had a few cases like that - back when I worked in Portland,” she told Winston. “Where people would gain access to the camera in a computer to spy and be overall disgusting.” Her nose wrinkled, and she didn’t elaborate farther. “You think this is a real person and not some… artificial intelligence?” Ping! Jane looked at that screen. 

I am not artificial intelligence! 

Jane frowned. “Can it… hear us too? I didn’t even know my computer had a microphone. Stop that!” 

You don’t like me! It accused them.

The screen started to flash again, and she swore she saw something spark. Jane placed a hand on Winston’s shoulder. “Uhhh, I think we should get away from it. I think it’s broken.”

“Technically, and you can’t tell anyone, but Sarge actually asked me to do it, not sure why. I don’t really ask questions when your boss asks you to do something like that.” Frowning gently, Winston shrugged. “There’s a chance that this is a bot or something like that, but AI doesn’t really exist to a level that is sophisticated enough to think independently. At least, not yet. Maybe in the future but not currently.” Winston shrugged and squinted at the screen. Winston reached out and placed their hand on the computer, reaching out with magic and examining it to the best of their ability. Interacting with technology like this was complicated. But it was something they were getting used to. Something felt wrong here, and Winston frowned as a new set of messages flashed up on the screen.

“What are you doing?” Jane asked as Winston reached out, putting their hand on the screen. “Winston, I don’t think you should -” More messages flashed up onto the excreen, and from what she could see there was a series of expletives. The computer’s charging port sparked. “Winston, get away from the computer right now.” Jane’s voice turned authoritative as she realized it was dangerous. She didn’t want them to get hurt. Jane was just considering the pros and cons of firing her weapon at the laptop in the precinct, but didn’t get the chance to think further when the laptop flew off the desk and crashed into the wall. Jane stopped and stared at the empty spot where her laptop was, before looking to where the broken pieces were on the floor. “What the hell was -” 

A burst of electricity was coming from the broken pieces. Sparking in strange ways. The hairs on the back of her neck stood up. “Winston,” Jane said, slowly. “Get…. behind me?”

“It’s just a … trick that my tutor taught me,” Winston lied unconvincingly. It was a flaw that until recently they’d been proud of, being unable to lie had never really been a huge problem until now. Now that they were risking their life on their inability for deception more and more however they were starting to think that they might have to get better at it. “Ah, Jane what’s the plan here?” Winston asked as they obligingly stepped behind Jane. “I’m not sure that shooting your laptop because it’s threatening to pretend to be an EMP is really going to help…” Winston’s mind was racing as they did everything that they possibly could to think of a way to fix this without magic. “You ever seen anything weird like this before?” Winston really hoped that Jane was one of the cops that was cool with the supernatural because otherwise they were going to be a bit concerned by all of this. “I can definitely do something about this but if you’ve got a better idea I’m all ears.”  

“I’ve seen some strange things, yes,” Jane said, glancing back at them. She hadn’t exactly seen anything like this before, with the flashing and sparking for the laptop getting worse. “Speaking of ears - cover your ears.” Jane said flatly. She drew her gun and swiftly shot the laptop 3 times in a row. The laptop shattered into more pieces, a loud whirring voices coming from nothing. She didn’t understand, shooting it should have worked. It was probably overkill, but come on, it was just a goddamn laptop! What was it, a laptop zombie? Wait. Jane stopped, frowning as she lowered her gun. Electric zombie? Were electric zombies things? Was it an electric zombie that was trying to be her friend? She just barely got the thought out when the damn thing, whatever it was, tried to attack. A flash of electricity had Jane jerking backwards, elbowing Winston out of the blast. “Sorry. Sorry. Crap. Okay, so my method didn’t work. Maybe we should get the fire extinguisher? What the hell is that thing? It’s definitely not a zombie.”

She shot it anyway. Great. Anything that Winston might have been able to do might as well now be useless. “I was being nice when i said I wasn’t sure it was going to help, now what are we meant to do?” Winston frowned gently however at the fact that it was still sparking as if it might explode at literally any minute. This was not what they had expected when there had been a problem with the chat. “You know about zombies?” Winston asked frowning, maybe Jane wasn’t one of the people who were completely oblivious to the supernatural anyway. “That definitely isn’t a zombie, I don’t know what it is but I would guess some sort of spectre from all the electricity and the sparking and the fact that you shot it and it’s just freaking out even more.” The laptop began levitating. “I am not an exorcist, but I have an idea, I need you to and seriously be really super careful, but grab a chair, break it so you’re holding a bit of wood and when I tell you I need you to hit it out of the air and then maybe I’ll be able to get it to stop freaking out for long enough for us to get a professional in here to deal with it.” Winston looked at Jane expectantly, “Okay?” 

“Well, it seemed like a good idea at the time,” Jane said, frowning. She had hoped that destroying it would prevent it from doing anything else, but guess not. “I do know about zombies.” Jane replied back, happy enough that her hair was blocking the scar on her neck. She was more than a little concerned that the kid seemed to know about zombies too. “Spectre?” Jane was immediately reminded of the stupid step stool her and Marley had trapped in a dog cage in her living room. How irritating, had something gotten her work laptop too? “I have some familiarity with those too, just not this. There isn’t any salt in the breakroom is there?” Jane muttered, more to herself than Winston, as she went to swiftly break a chair into two. She supposed that she was going to have to trust them. Sorry to whoever’s chair that was, but if there weren't exactly many other options. She grabbed the chair leg and nodded. “Let me know when you’re ready. And be careful.” 

“Yeah, I get that,” Winston honestly had seriously considered buying a hand gun until someone had told them that they were a literal human handgun. Not that that had made them feel better, but sometimes you wanted to shoot something dead. “You do?” Winston was a little surprised. They kind of just assumed no one else knew. Maybe that was a mistake. Their own ignorance getting the better of them in this case. “Uh, salt is a good idea in case this doesn’t work, I’m pretty sure we’re going to have to encase the computer in salt or iron to keep the ghost in there until we can get an exorcist out here, I’m just hoping this will work for a bit, like a bandage.” Winston cracked their knuckles and took a deep breath, ready for action. “Whenever you’re ready,” as Jane smacked the chair down onto the laptop Winston darted forward and to their pleasure and extreme displeasure they caught the still sparking laptop. Fortunately they had a spell planned for this, unfortunately the energy wasn’t exactly something that they had planned on. Wincing as they smelled the electricity burn their hair, Winston extended their will into the technology as they had before, it felt completely different from any other magic Winston had ever used. The electricity coursing through them and the laptop as if it were blood in a vast circulatory system, pumped onwards by a beating heart. Groaning with exertion, Winston forced everything quiet, the electricity stalling to a halt before disappearing momentarily, though Winston knew it would be back. “Oh, fuck,” they muttered before collapsing to their knees.

“I do.” Jane made a note to rush for the breakroom after Winston did whatever they were about to do to grab the Morton’s salt she knew was in there somewhere. She wondered if Marley was also allergic to iron too, since she avoided salt. Things to take note of and ask later. Now she waited for Winston to give her the signal and she swung the the chair leg hard down onto the laptop. “Winston, no!” Jane just about rushed forward to yank the possessed, broken-beyond-repair laptop out of their hands, when she realized they were actually doing something. Jane froze, staring at them like they had many heads. “What are you - oh -” The electricity in the air seemed to disappear as the vague smell of burnt hair filled the air. Shit. What the hell was that kid doing? She was reminded, as Winston fell to their knees, of when Otto had saved her from falling off that cliff. She shook it off, running to their side. “Winston? Are you alright? What the hell did you do to it? Here, come on, let me help you up.” She would take them to the breakroom, stick a snack in front of them, and then run back to dump salt on the computer and lock it away in a filing cabinet. 

“Woah,” Winston replied somewhat slurred. That had taken a lot out of them. They were really feeling light headed. They were sure that their vision didn’t normally swim in and out like that, and there weren’t normally dots in front of their eyes. Don’t fuck with electricity and magic. Seemed to be the lesson. “I’m -” they took a breath, “okay I think…” frowning gently, Winston accepted Janes help and staggered over to the table they’d previously been working at, riffling haphazardly through their bag they pulled a candy bar from it and ripped it open, biting into it. “Sorry,” they said through a mouthful of chocolate, “it really took a lot more out of me then I thought it would…” wiping sweat from their forehead they looked at the laptop, “Breakroom?” they asked, “we need to salt that and I need more food if I’m going to be able to drive home. I don’t really want to get my room mate to pick me up because of ma- exhaustion again.” Had they really just said the word magic in front of Jane?

“Are you sure?” Jane said, doubtfully as she practically carried Winston back to the table. She leaned back against it, examining them as they grabbed the chocolate bar. “What exactly did you - oh. Right. Here, stay right there.” Jane left their side for just a few minutes. It took her a bit to find where the giant thing of salt she had gotten too, and she swiped her lunch box from from the refrigerator as well. Lucky for Winston, she was planning on working overtime tonight, which meant she had packed a lunch and a dinner. Maybe a little less lucky, she really had only made a roasted chicken sandwich along with a thing of chips for dinner. Not exactly her most spectacular display of cooking. She came back, sliding her lunch box in front of him. “Do you eat meat?” she asked, worriedly. “Eat that, if you do. It’s just a roasted chicken sandwich. I’ll deal with the laptop. I figure I’ll empty out a drawer, line it with salt, dump salt on the actual laptop, and then stick it in there. It shouldn’t be able to get out after all that.” Jane knelt down on her knees and immediately went to work doing just that. She would question Winston  when they were feeling a bit better. She had caught their ‘ma-exhaustion’ slip up, but maybe now wasn’t an appropriate time to grill them.

“I’m sure, I -” Winston was so far from sure what the next appropriate thing for them to say in this instance was, they were 100% certain that a trained officer like Jane wouldn’t have missed the fact that they had always said magic, “it has happened before and I am bad at managing my blood sugar levels because I sometimes forget to eat,” they had forgotten breakfast, “so I am sure that this won’t be the last time that it happens either.” Winston looked at her food sadly and sighed. “Are you sure? I don’t want to eat your food if you haven’t got anything else…” deciding that it was that or passing out, Winston slowly bit into the sandwich and chewed on it thoughtfully. “That’s probably a good idea,” Winston looked around, “I am going to buy an iron lined box next time, I think that if another ghostly thing tries to attack me then I’m going to be pissed, because that really wasn’t my idea of fun.” They looked up at Jane. “I don’t think you missed the laptop once though, which is cool, Sarge would not be happy about bullet holes in the wall.” 

“Right. Blood sugar levels,” Jane said in that type of tone that meant she didn’t believe them. She used that a lot in interrogation, but she still maintained that interrogating Winston on whatever they had done to the laptop that had caused that level of exhaustion. For the second time, she was reminded of Otto and his bloody nose. Ma-exhaustion… Magic. Hm. Noted for a later conversation  - at least until they had eaten her dinner. “Oh, don’t worry about it, I just feel bad I didn’t cook anything exceptionally yummy other than a chicken sandwich.” Jane opened a drawer, and took everything out before she started lining it with salt. “If you had told me this kind of thing existed a few years ago, I would have laughed my ass off at you,” she muttered. She glanced at them as she grabbed the broken pieces of the computer and carefully put them in the drawer, careful not to break the salt line. “I have great aim, usually. I’m sure Sarge will get on my ass about the paperwork I’m going to have to fill out about the three shots I fired into it in the precinct.” She laughed. “Or the paperwork I’m going to have to submit to get my laptop replaced. Are you attacked by ghostly entities often? You wouldn’t happen to know an exorcist would you? I have a possessed step stool at home that I’ve affectionately named French Fry, but it unfortunately very much wants to kill me.”

It didn’t take a world class detective to tell that Winston had been rumbled by Jane. But unfortunately Winston was exhausted and drained and not really thinking about how clearly it was that they had used magic. In fact, they would silently congratulate themselves on their subtlety after. “Well, if we ever have to do this again I’ll make sure that you make me a full meal, I’m joking really, my room mate Ricky is the best cook I’ve ever lived with outside of my own mother and he usually keeps me pretty … you know sorted.” Winston nodded along as they finished the sandwich. “If you had told me this six months ago then I would have joined you and the worst thing is that I have been in White Crest my whole life and never ever seen anything like this. I guess I was just ignorant or in denial? Who knows.” They smiled and nodded. “You really do have great aim, but if you want I’ll try and get your paperwork through without getting anyone who’s too much of a stick in the mud to sign off on it, I have my ways you know.” They paused for a second. “Yeah, I know several exorcists. One is more reliable but I haven’t heard from her in a while and the other I haven’t heard such good things about.” 

Jane grinned. “Well, I do like to cook - I’ve been told most of my food is pretty great. Sounds like you have a great roommate, though. Good to see kids not relying on instant ramen.” She thought of Dario then, a grown ass man relying on instant ramen, and then of Sarge and his lean cuisines. God, she should teach a cooking class or something, this was pathetic. She looked at Winston. It was clear that they were far more in the know than she originally anticipated, zombies and ghosts and magic and who knows what else. “I couldn’t imagine growing up here,” she said with a frown. “I’ve always been more of a city person, but I swear this small town is more active than Portland ever was - it’s hard to see a whole town so wrapped up in denial.” She stood, brushing the salt off her pants. “If you could do that, I’d owe you definitely more than a sandwich. I’m still new, and I don’t want to cause too much trouble trouble, you know? I’ll take both exorcists names, though, they’ll probably take French Fry off my hands.” 

“I have the best room mates actually,” Winston replied with a shrug, “ I guess that I just really lucked out with them or something like that. Otherwise, yeah, I’d be relying on instant ramen or just going home for dinner every night or something like that.” Winston shrugged gently and smiled. They were blessed in someways. “Believe me, I couldn’t imagine growing up in a city and I don’t think that I will ever leave now that I know the truth about this place because there is way too much shit going on to do that, like I think if I did leave I would come back and there would just be nothing left of this place.” Winston shrugged gently. “I need to … check that they don’t mind me giving out their names, I assume that they won’t and I can’t imagine that it’ll be an issue but once they’re fine with it then I’ll put you guys in contact, it’s just the whole supernatural thing is complicated with ‘outting’ people.” Winston stood and glanced at their watch. “I’ll get your new laptop ready tomorrow, is it okay if I head home? I’m pretty exhausted…”

[dmsden]

The Worldbreaker Redux – A Tale of the Shattered Pact

Hullo, Gentle Readers. Our Worldbuilding and Shattered Pact articles are switching places this month, to help answer a lot of questions I’ve been getting, and because I’ve been dying to talk about this for nine years…yes, nine years. Our first game session was on November 4, 2010, and, as I write these words, we played our latest session on November 7, 2019.

Almost 3 years ago, I wrote an article called the Tale of the Worldbreaker (https://dmsden.tumblr.com/post/156585072827/the-tale-of-the-worldbreaker). In it, I talked about how I had foreshadowed a potential Tarrasque appearance from the very beginning of the campaign and talked about how it might never actually show up, but I wanted its legend to be a menacing shadow that stretched across the history of my campaign.

Well, as you may have seen from some photos I posted recently, the Tarrasque has indeed appeared. I wanted to give some background on how we got to this point in the story, where things go from here, and how we made the Tarrasque “miniature” we’re using.

I have been foreshadowing the Tarrasque since session 1, which took place when the PCs were about 10 years old. They did a bunch of fun things, like share a hide-out, run around town, stand up to some bullies, catch the Fire Wasps that became their namesake…and, in the evening, they went back to the local tavern, the Minstrel’s Tarry, and they listened to stories by Talbot Holdfast, grandfather of one of the PCs. One of those stories was the tale of the Argent Circle and their battle against the Worldbreaker.

As their adventuring began, I would occasionally slip in mentions of an organization called Those Who Answer, a group who said they were there to answer the call of those in need. They were always doing good, charitable works – rescuing orphans, tending the sick, feeding the hungry – and their numbers included several people that the PCs knew or got to know over the campaign.

Years of game-play later, they found a statue of the Worldbreaker in an ancient temple raised by the Old Ones, the mysterious beings who were responsible for the creation of many things, including the Warforged. There, they learned that the Worldbreaker was meant to punish gods and primordials alike and to sweep the world clean so that the Old Ones could rise once more. They swore to hide this information, fearful who might decide to learn more and raise the Worldbreaker from its slumber.

Meanwhile, for years of gameplay, they’d been dealing with various primordial cults, all of which seemed to be linked back to something called the Elder Elemental Eye. Over time, they began to have reason to believe that the Elder Elemental Eye was not a Primordial, as many thought, but something darker and more terrible. Eventually, they realized that Lord Kaldakos Greysails, a nobleman they’d begun to think of as a friend and ally, was, in truth, the Grey One, a high priest of the Eye. They exposed him, but it didn’t stop him and a number of his own allies, including what appeared to be a living or undead Old One, from killing the King and Queen of Summerlund and taking the Prince of Summerlund (himself one of their allies) prisoner for the sake of his royal blood.

When, shortly following this, every member of Those Who Answer disappeared, and they began to hear about a group called the Five Who Call, things began to fall into place, and, through various researches, they learned where their enemies had gone to ground – the Temple of Elemental Evil, deep within the Elemental Chaos itself.

They entered the Chaos and made their way to the Temple, overcoming enemies and solving puzzles until they entered the Fane of the Eye underneath the Temple itself. There, they saw a massive black obsidian mirror, a chamber whose sunken floor was filled with dozens, if not hundreds, of Those Who Answer – innocents who were being used by this apocalyptic cult. Lord Kaldakos and his allies were there, including the Prince, bound across an altar. In the mirror, they saw the spires of the great city of Gwyllan’s Watch, and they began to realize something terrible was about to happen.

The battle was joined, but, in the end, it took only a single wound for Kaldakos to draw royal blood and spatter it on the altar, fulfilling the last needed condition. He revealed that the Elder Elemental Eye was, in fact, no less a figure than Tharizdun, the forgotten god of entropy and secrets. He had been locked away by the gods in time immemorial, but all it would take is one massive sacrifice to bring him back. As he said it, he smiled at the city in the mirror. Although the party’s bard slew him (critical hit from a Bigby’s Hand…super gross!), the damage was done. A deafening roar sounded as something rose up from beneath the city, beginning to destroy its beautiful towers.

The Worldbreaker was free again. And, as the captive prince revealed, every death it caused would be a sacrifice to Tharizdun, bringing the chained god closer and closer to freedom.

So that’s where my players are at. Going forward, the campaign is likely to focus on learning how to defeat the Worldbreaker, going out and gathering various things that could be helpful, and then confronting and defeating it (not to mention taking out the remaining members of The Five Who Call).

As for how we made that big, beautiful beast, it started life as the “Ultimate Godzilla” toy from the 1998 Roland Emmerich Godzilla movie (awful movie, IMHO…but great toys!) When I decided I wanted to do a Tarrasque storyline, some nine and a half years ago, I started looking around for a way to have it be as awesome in my game as it was in my imagination. When I found that toy, I grabbed it. My wonderful and artistic husband Steve modelled the horns on its head and chin, did some putty work, and did a complete repaint. He also bolted Gargantuan bases to each of its feet, because I loved the ideas of the players racing around between its legs if need be.

As far as stats go, I won’t tip my hand yet, but I will say that I consider the stats in the Monster Manual for 5E to be not terrifying enough for a creature that was born to destroy the world. Instead, I dipped into a book called the Book of the Tarrasque from Encoded Designs. My Tarrasque is much, much worse than the MM version, and I tried to foreshadow some of its awful nature, which included it ripped down a tower, then sweeping up rubble in its claws and launching it in a ranged attack against another tower.

Am I destroying parts of my beloved campaign world? Yes, I am. Gwyllan’s Watch was the capital of one of the major kingdoms of my creation, and it will never be exactly the same. I have a lot in my head for where things go from here, and I will have to make new maps when all is said and done.

But, oh, it will make for a mighty conclusion to a long-running campaign.

[gilbirda]

<<Previous Chapter / Next Chapter >>

Chapter 9: Truth

The following days were filled with uncertainty. Rumours about what happened rampaged through the school, and as the people involved were rather unapproachable, the students and teachers chose to fill the gaps with any kind of information they could come up with.

In the end, when Marianne heard the story told at the girl's restroom by some people she recognized were of Roland's fanclub, the tale had been warped into a fantastic and epic delusion where the blond teenager had rescued Marianne from the evil molester that took advantage of her. And that as she was grateful for the rescue, she was considering presenting as the Queen in next week's Spring Ball dance to go back to Roland.

Nothing was further from the truth, she thought, as she hadn't seen Roland since he had the nerve of crashing into her life to destroy it once again. She became even more vocal about her hatred at home, fighting daily with her father about the issue.

She knew she was self destructing. It didn't take a genius to see that, but she didn't care anymore. Marianne had lost everything she had to fight for and it wasn't in her nature to just sit down and let other people tell her what to do or what to think.

It was exactly this what her father didn't seem to understand. He still insisted that she was being unreasonable, or at least he said so when he tried to be civil. When they fought he usually chastised her for defending her aggressor and that she shouldn't have tried to be alone all the time, that if she had asked for help sooner then it wouldn't have come to this.

“At least with Roland you were protected,” her father said one time and Marianne had to control herself to not throw her slice of steamed ham to his face. Instead, she chose to keep eating dinner like he hadn't said anything at all. It was usually the best course of action, but she found she was being less and less patient as the days rolled around.

At school she noticed this, and it worried her. She hesitated less when jumping into a fight, finding herself more often than not involved in a vicious fight with fellow students. It came to a point where she spent more time at the infirmary than out, almost breaking her arm many times.

It was like the status quo from the last two years had broken and all the tension flooded the hallways. Everyone voiced their opinion about the issues out in the open, unafraid of the outcome. And if things went wrong, you could always blame Marianne and Bog. It didn't matter how, but it always worked.

***

Bog watched her come and go from his window at the Library, uncertain of what he was feeling as he noticed her new bruises and wounds. Her behaviour puzzled him. But well, that wasn’t anything new, it was precisely her unique personality what initially had attracted him to her that fateful day that they met.

It seemed like an eternity ago, but it hadn’t even been a full month since she was brought to the Library to work for him. His heart ached at the memory, for a moment wishing he had the power to go back and redo his actions - like not falling in love with her, for starters. With her eyes and her kissable lips and her even more beautiful personality. He wished that it didn’t hurt so much to think about her even after everything she did to him.

Bog sighed. Wishing wouldn’t get him anywhere.

For now, advances in the “investigation” about his illegal activities within the school seemed to be frozen for the moment; and despite having been interrogated once about what he did with Marianne after school, fortunately his days weren’t disturbed by it. He could hide as much as he wanted in the Library. It was like his dreams about being left alone finally came true.

But he didn’t want to, he found out one day. He had stopped being angry and started thinking about her instead, daydreaming about what it could have been in another place, another time. If she was older. If he wasn’t so hideous and easy to blame. He started also to think that her shock from a few weeks ago was real and that Marianne really didn’t know anything of what was happening; that she really did love him back and that both were tricked by fate to fall for the wrong person.

That thought usually took him to dark places, though. Maybe Marianne deserved more than him? Maybe he shouldn’t have accepted this job? Maybe his place wasn’t to love or be loved in return. A long time ago, when he suffered for the last time in high school, he discovered that by banishing the stupid dream of love from his life he helped himself maintain a certain kind of order in the midst of all chaos. Maybe this was just a reminder of that.

Thinking about it, Bog decided that he was closing the Library for the day. No one would notice anyways.

As he closed the door he heard noises coming from the janitor closet, which wasn’t far from his position. How weird. Weren’t the kids supposed to be in lunch time?

The librarian approached the closet and stopped in his tracks when he recognized Marianne's voice in there. What the hell was she doing there?

“C’mon, Buttercup. You know you want it.” Oh.

Roland.

Bog pressed his lips together and clenched his hand tighter around the keys. Yep, he had to forget about her and never ever go back that road again.

“Go away,” she clearly said.

Sure, Bog thought to himself, ready to go to his car and, who knows, maybe don’t come back tomorrow to school? Send a note to the Director accepting any conditions if he let him resign sooner than -

“Go away Roland!” the girl’s voice was muffled by the door, but he heard the fear painting her words. “Don’t touch me!”

That was what made him act without thinking. Bog rushed to the door and opened it with a firm yank, knowing what he would find there but not prepared at all to actually see it.

Marianne, sweet and strong Marianne, was trying to cover her bra with what was left of her shirt; her eyes wide opened in pure fear, drops of tears in the corners, refusing to go down. Roland’s hand was way up her skirt between her legs, making Bog’s stomach turn upside down. How dare he-!

“Bog?” she turned to look at him, actual relief in her face.

“Marianne-,” he stopped himself when he saw them. Bruises on her neck, finger shaped, going around over her creamy skin and morphing into scratch marks on the back of the neck.

“Mind your own fucking business,” the blond teenager woke him up from his shock. Bog turned to the boy and, with great satisfaction, grabbed him by the shirt and threw him down the corridor, as far away as he could.

“Let’s go,” he said in a low voice, grabbing the scared girl as gently as he could given the circumstances. “Can you walk?”

She blushed, knowing what he meant by that. “Yeah. I’m not… I’m not injured.” He nodded and kept them going forward, one hand still in her arm. If he noticed that, he didn’t comment on it. “Where are we going?” she tried her voice, grateful that so far it hadn’t shaken a bit.

“To the infirmary.”

***

Half an hour later, fully bandaged and noticeably calmer, Marianne found herself in the infirmary. Alone. With Bog.

It has been such a long time that now it was plain weird. She spent days hating him, feeding the raw emotions, tiring herself to sleep by thinking again and again about the pain he inflicted on her that fateful day when he told her that her love for him was fake. An act.

By now she was tired. It became so normal to avoid him and anything that had anything to do with him that eventually she could live on like nothing ever happened with the librarian. But now, having him so close and unable to focus on anything else, everything, the feelings and the pain and the love, came back with a bang.

She blinked slowly, watching Bog’s long and pale fingers work her numerous scratches with professionalism, with a care that kind of surprised her after how mad he looked the other day. And there was the issue that he saved her from Roland. He saved her from -

Marianne breathed in slowly, trying to keep the panic attack at bay. Right now was not a good moment to start crying and shaking. Think about something else, she said to herself.

“So…,” her voice cracked and she tried to clear her throat.

“Hm?” the man didn’t look up from his work. Marianne tugged at the shirt she had on, trying to hold it close as it has lost the first four buttons.

“It’s been a while, huh?” Oh my God Marianne. Is this the smartest thing you could think of?

His body tensed and his hands stopped bandaging her left foot, where she had a nasty scrape from a recent fall. She swears someone tripped her on purpose.

“I think so…” he finally answered her, resuming his work. The girl bit her lip, unsure of how to proceed.

“How…,” she swallowed, “how have you been?” I missed you.

The librarian finally looked up to her an blinked slowly. “How do you think? I’m an accused child molester.” He said in a monotonous voice, like it wasn’t something important at all.

“Okay, if we are going to talk about this-”

“I didn’t know that we were talking about anything.”

She frowned. “Don’t be like this, Bog.”

“Oh yeah?” he put down the antiseptic and gauze he was using once he finished with her foot. “And how do you want me to be after -”

“It wasn’t me.” She interrupted him, fixing her eyes on his striking blue ones. “Roland was the one that told my father. It was a trap for me too.” She continued at his confusion.

Bog blinked from his kneeling position, looking up at her. One second ticked by, then two, and three; by the fourth Bog took a deep breath and took off his glasses to rub his eyes, finally breaking eye contact with the girl.

“I’m tired of all of this.”

“Me too,” Marianne moved a hand to caress his cheek. “I didn’t mean.... for any of this to happen.”

The librarian opened his eyes at the touch, looking back at her brown eyes, unconsciously leaning on her hand. He smiled softly, unknowingly making the girl’s heart stop for a moment, and turned his head slightly to put a kiss on her uninjured palm.

“Now I know,” Bog said still smiling.

They looked at each other feeling buried feelings arise, the love they had for each other still intact even after feeding the hate at the situation. Marianne wanted to say so much, touch him so much, but before she could open her mouth she saw his eyes go down and his body tense as a noticeable blush darkened his pale skin.

“You… uh…. sorry -”

“Huh?” she looked down to see what was the problem, realizing that by placing her hand on his cheek she had let go what was left of her shirt and her black bra was uncovered to be seen by anyone. Or Bog, in this case.

“This is awkward,” she rushed to close her shirt, a blush on her own cheeks. “Sorry, I-”

“No, no. Is not your fault.”

The memory of Roland’s hands forcefully opening her shirt, how they touched her skin like it was some kind prize he deserved, how he squeezed her chest as he said how much she should be grateful-

“Here,” Bog’s voice took her back to the present. In front of her was the shirt he had been wearing before, but to her peace of mind, he had a inner sleeveless t-shirt on. “I think I brought a spare one, but it’s in my bag back at the Library’s door.”

“Thanks,” she smiled gratefully at him.

“Ok, what’s going on here?” the nurse said, arriving just in that moment. He probably was at lunch break too, that’s why there was no one in the infirmary when they got there. “Boggart? Weren’t you forbidden to get near that girl?”

“He saved me,” she cut into the conversation, knowing where this was going. “Roland Green was about to rape me in the janitor’s closet.”

The nurse blinked in surprise.

“What?”

“You heard me,” she frowned, turned back at an unsure Bog, who was just standing there in all awkwardness. “Go get your shirt. Then we are going to talk with dad.”

“Shouldn’t I be the one to notify that?” the nurse said, frowning at the exiting man.

“Do that if you wish. I’m tired of this circus and I’m going to talk with the Director anyways.”

***

Marianne was peacefully waiting for Bog to return, feeling contentment for the first time in a while. Things were going to be okay, for once, and Bog didn’t hate her after all. They would talk with her father and Roland would leave her alone at last.

“Marianne?” she turned to the infirmary door to find her father there, very red and flustered, his breathing heavy and ragged, like he had been running to get there. “I heard what happened. Are you okay?”

She frowned, feeling a horrible sense of déjà vu.

“Let me guess, Roland told you?” Dadga nodded. “Then don’t believe him.”

“There you are again with that. Leave Roland alone! You can’t seriously hold a grudge for so long!”

Marianne sighed, getting up with unstable legs.

“I don’t care what you think, father,” she spat as she looked at him in the eye. “Roland’s been lying to you all this time and Bog was framed for stuff he didn’t do.”

Dadga looked like he was about to retaliate when he noticed the way too big shirt on his daughter. “What are you wearing? Is that a man’s shirt?”

“Oh, yeah,” she looked down, noticing that the hem of the shirt was below the edge of her skirt, making it look like she wore nothing else under Bog’s shirt. “Bog lent it to me. Mine was in pretty bad shape after what Roland did.”

“Did that man seriously get near you?”

Marianne narrowed her eyes. “Is that the only thing you register from my words?”

“I told him that it was forbidden-!”

“Dad, are you serious?”

“We are going to the police.” He grabbed the girl by the arm, not noticing the bandages under the fabric of the shirt.

“What?”

“Then I’m doing what I should have done years ago and get you a therapist. This is beyond absurd.”

She planted her feet on her ground, trying to pull free her arm. It hurt a lot and probably her wound had reopened with all the action.

“Are you implying that I’m making this up? That I’m crazy?”

“What I’m saying is that you are unstable, Marianne,” the Director pulled with more strength, almost making her trip with her own feet as he dragged her out of the building. “Your violent behaviour must come from somewhere. You seemed fine after your mother’s funeral but I see it was the beginning of this mess,” the man scoffed. “It made you vulnerable and men like Boggart would surely use it against you.”

“Are you fucking hearing yourself!?” she screamed feeling a bit scared now. “I’m not crazy, dad!

“Shut up!” he slapped her cheek, surprising the girl. He never hit her. No when she started the fightings or when she talked back to him. “I’m trying to help you! Why are you being so difficult with everything! All the time complaining and whining, behaving like a brat! I tried to be calm and understanding about it but this is enough!”

Marianne blinked and slipped to the floor in shock. She put one hand on her cheek, the one her father wasn’t grabbing with shaking hands, feeling the skin that had been hit get warmer by the second. She had been hit many times but it never hurt this much. Because it was her father who did this.

And then she knew. He was never going to understand, to get out of his stupid idea of what was happening. He would never see Roland as anything but the perfect boy he didn’t have; he would never accept that his daughter as she was, that he would think for the rest of his life that she was unwell and it was all a phase.

Or would he? Because she knew a way that this cycle of violence could end. She didn’t like it but...

Marianne swallowed hard and stood up slowly, feeling the blood of the reopened wound flow over her skin and stain Bog’s shirt. She looked at her father in the eyes, erasing the world around them, the noise, the people, the painful past. She had to do this, it was the only way to end this circus. Because even if the tale she was about to tell her father was a painful memory, she was sure that it was the time to share it.

“Dad, Roland tried to rape me.”

Dagda stopped glaring at her and opened his mouth in surprise.

“Girl, if this is a lie to -”

“He said “Marianne, don’t you think it’s time to fulfill your part? I deserve this” . He told me -” her voice broke, but she took a deep breath and continued: “He told me that that’s what a good girl do. That he could make me a woman. He said that I owed him my first time because we had been together long enough. That I was being selfish by making him wait.”

“I can’t believe this,” the man whispered to himself, but Marianne didn’t stop there. She was on a roll.

“He took my shirt off and was starting to take off my bra when I snapped out of it. I had been feeling uncomfortable with the topic for a while, I knew I wasn’t ready. Fortunately I managed to stop him in time.” She took a shaky breath. “You know what’s the worst part? I really thought he was right. We were supposed to do it. It is what couples do, right? I only had to endure it even if I didn’t want to do it because if I didn’t he would look at me with so much disappointment.”

“I didn’t know any of this. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because you said I had to get him back! Dad, you may not remember it, but you were more obsessed with Roland than I was! He was everything you talked about for days!” Tears formed in the corners of her eyes, but she didn’t let them stop her. “It was like you wanted him as a son more than you loved me!”

“I certainly did not!”

“But you did! You said that I was being unreasonable, that there was nothing that Roland could have done to make me that mad.”

“Because Roland is not a bad guy! He is young, yes, and he might have made a mistake or two, but-”

“Are you seriously saying that he couldn’t be able to rape your own daughter? Are you really that blinded?”

That stopped Dagda in his tracks, making him finally see his daughter. She was crying, and his girl never cried, not even in Violet’s funeral. Her hands were clenched tight and her lip was broken where her teeth bit with too much force. And her eyes…

Her eyes told him what he needed to know. She was telling the truth.

“But -” he started to say. It was confusing. How could he not notice any of this before?

“She is right,” a voice said behind him and the Director turned to find a girl around Marianne’s age walk towards him from a big crowd that had formed without any of them realizing. “About Roland.”

Marianne looked around them, finding that they were, in fact, in the inner courtyard of the school and that the whole school was watching them fight. She blushed, feeling the rush of adrenaline go down after saying what she wanted to say.

Where was Bog, though?

“What do you mean, girl?” Dagda asked.

“Roland. I didn’t want to, but he sweet talked me into… uh…” she blushed, but everyone got the message.

“Me too,” another girl said, walking to stand by the first girl’s side. “I did it because I thought he loved me. Next morning he acted like he didn’t know me.”

“Me too,” a third girl said.

“And me,” another one.

In less than a minute, around twenty five girls were standing in a circle surrounding the father and the daughter, looking at Marianne with shame in their eyes. The brunette recognized a few of the girls that first trash talked about her when the break up happened. The whole Roland fanclub was there, speaking about their rape stories with a brave face, hand in hand, voices cracking with the knot in their throats. But it was like a dam had broken and they couldn’t stop talking about it, about Roland, about how wrong they were about him.

About Marianne.

[unfolded73]

Electrical Storm (1/1) - schitt’s creek ff

David takes the "How Electric Is Your Relationship" quiz (from 5x01) and happily reminisces, until he sees his score. This started with a spreadsheet (for the relationship quiz questions) and ended as an excuse to write quite a lot of porn. So enjoy. Rated Explicit, 5900 words.

_______________

“So what are you and Patrick up to tonight?” Stevie asked as David milled around the office, flipping through the faded travel brochures that he was pretty sure no one had touched since before the Roses first arrived in Schitt’s Creek.

“Nothing. We’re not seeing each other tonight,” David said. He pulled out a pamphlet advertising “The world’s deepest base metal mine below sea level!” and grimaced at the idea that anyone would consider that a tourist attraction.

“You’re not seeing each other tonight,” Stevie repeated, not exactly with surprise in the classical sense because Stevie’s scale of emotional expression was different from other people’s, but David recognized it as surprise.

“I don’t spend every evening with Patrick,” he said indignantly.

“You don’t?”

“You know that I don’t. For one thing, I don’t have that high a tolerance for Ray.”

“Well, I just know that usually if I actually want to see my best friend, I have to go to your store. And I know that Ray told Bob who told Roland that you sleep over there a lot. So.”

“Great to know that the whole town is discussing where I’m sleeping,” David sniffed, moving over to the magazine rack.

“Does that honestly surprise you?”

“No,” he answered with a sigh, pulling out a copy of Major Lady Magazine that promised an interview with Kim Basinger and to reveal the secrets of ‘The Nineties Man’. Good god, where did Dad find these ancient magazines? “Anyway, is this your way of saying you want to hang out tonight?”

“To be honest, I’ve worked a bunch of long shifts over the last several days and I’m pretty sure I’d just end up falling asleep on you if I tried to hang out with you tonight,” Stevie said.

“And this sweater won’t survive your drooling,” David said. “Okay, let’s make an actual plan to do something next weekend, just you and me.”

“You mean, go out? And do things? Like actual human beings?” Stevie wrinkled her nose.

David shrugged. “Or we could get high and watch movies.”

“That sounds more like our speed.”

“Friday?”

Stevie nodded, lips pinched together like she was hiding a smile. “Sure.”

David smiled back because it felt really good to have a best friend, just like it felt really good to have a boyfriend. Even on boring evenings like tonight when he didn’t have anything interesting to do, he was starting to learn that he was happier than he’d ever been in his old life.

He was thinking so much about how much he loved Stevie and how much he loved Patrick that he didn’t realize he was still carrying the women’s magazine from summer 1991 until he was back in his room. He started to toss it on the dresser, but then noticed one more thing on the cover.

How ELECTRIC is your Relationship? Take our quiz and find out!

David smirked. His relationship with Patrick was very electric. He’d destroy a quiz like that, heteronormative though it would certainly be. Flipping past ads for cheap perfume and makeup that really made you realize that 1991 looked more like the 80s than it did the 90s, he located the table of contents and then the quiz. Settling down on his bed, he grabbed the pen that was stuck between pages of his journal and set to work.

Question 1: When you get it on with your man, how long does the fun last? A. A few minutes at best (1 point) B. Until he’s done, but I’m often left lying there unfulfilled (2 points) C. Until we’re both satisfied, however long that takes (5 points) D. All night long! (7 points)

‘Get it on,’ David thought. Ew. The phraseology in this magazine quiz left a lot to be desired. Also, going all night long was overrated and usually required pharmaceutical intervention. He circled C and moved on to the next question.

Question 2: What’s you and your man’s favorite place to do the nasty other than the bedroom? A. I really prefer the bedroom (2 points) B. The shower (4 points) C. The kitchen table (5 points) D. Literally anywhere (7 points)

Okay, well, he did prefer the bedroom, and having sex anywhere that people eat was incorrect. But the shower could be awfully nice, he thought, circling B.

~~~

“Sometimes I suspect you like being over here as much to use the shower as to go to bed with me,” Patrick said, leaning against the bathroom sink and watching David test the temperature of the spray. Ray was hosting an open house for a farmhouse property he was trying to sell, the store was closed today, and they had the house to themselves for four whole hours. David was a little frustrated that they’d already napped away almost an hour of their time together, but sometimes falling into a sex coma after a really spectacular orgasm was irresistable.

“I’ve explained to you about the water pressure at the motel. Also, you got me very dirty,” David said with a leer and a shimmy of his hips. He knew he probably looked ridiculous, moving his body like that when he was naked, but for some reason he couldn’t bring himself to care.

Patrick grinned, shifting away from the sink and close to David to kiss him. “Yeah, I suppose I did.”

When the water was warm enough, Patrick followed David into the shower, and it didn’t take long for the process of getting cleaned up to devolve into sloppy kisses and roaming hands. Patrick dropped to his knees, sucking a bruise into David’s hip, hand coming up to caress his balls before moved up to his cock, already getting impressively hard given that they’d had sex an hour ago.

Patrick looked up at him, water droplets caught in his eyelashes. “David. You’re so beautiful.”

David swallowed, unable to speak, and ran his hand over Patrick’s hair, caressing the shell of his ear with his fingertips. He still wasn’t used to this, to the fact that sex with Patrick was about so much more than two bodies seeking pleasure. He was overwhelmed a lot of the time by their easy intimacy, with no idea how to contain it.

Patrick’s mouth took over from his hand, thumb pressing against the hickey as he his lips closed around David’s cock. He employed every trick he knew, every trick he’d learned over the months they’d been together, and unraveled David surprisingly quickly. David let his head drop against the tiled wall as he groaned and came in Patrick’s mouth.

~~~

David shook himself from his shower reverie and continued with the quiz.

Question 3: Do you and your man schedule times to get it on? A. No, but only because it rarely happens anymore! (1 point) B. Yes. Once a week like clockwork (2 points) C. We’ve been known to schedule it, but we have spontaneous sex too (5 points) D. We’re spontaneous, and we take every opportunity to get in each other’s pants (8 points)

David hesitated, his pen moving back and forth between C and D. They did schedule sex occasionally, but only because of Ray’s poker night. But then there were the times they’d been so desperate for each other that they’d ended up in the storeroom five minutes after closing, almost feral with the desire to get under each other’s clothes. When they’d been willing to risk very quiet handjobs in David’s tiny bed while Alexis was out, even though his parents were just on the other side of a thin wall. Of course, that didn’t happen as much these days as it had when they’d first gotten together, so perhaps ‘every opportunity’ was giving them a bit too much credit.

He marked C, but reserved the right to come back and change it later.

Question 4: How good are you and your man at phone sex? A. I can’t imagine either of us saying that stuff out loud! (1 point) B. We tried it once but we weren’t very good at it. (2 points) C. I let him talk dirty to me on the phone but I’m not great at reciprocating (4 points) D. We’re both great at dirty talk over the phone; it’s a fun part of our relationship (7 points)

David grinned and marked D. One result of their shortage of privacy was how skilled they had gotten at talking each other off.

~~~

“Are you sure Alexis isn’t going to walk in on you?” Patrick said, and David pressed the phone harder against his ear and squeezed his eyes shut.

“Please don’t mention my sister while I’ve got my dick in my hand,” David said. “She’s out on her run. We have time.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

“Do you want to fuck me, David?”

“Mm hmm.”

“How?”

“I’d turn you over, put you on your knees and elbows so that your amazing ass is on display for me,” David murmured, his other hand wrapped tight around his cock, slick with lube, moving slowly enough to keep pace with where they were in the narrative.

“Would you open me up for you?” Patrick asked.

“Yeah. Yes. I’d rub your back, get you relaxed, then I’d finger you open until you made that noise.”

He heard Patrick snort out a little breathless laugh. “I make a noise?”

“When you can’t take it anymore, when you’re so ready for me to be inside you that you can barely stand it, and your thighs are shaking and you’re starting to sweat, you make a noise.”

Patrick made a noise now, a little gasping moan. It wasn’t the noise, but it was very gratifying nonetheless. “And then you’d fuck me with that cock.”

David hummed. “Maybe,” he teased.

“David—”

“Yes, I’d fill you up just the way you want, so deep inside, and then when you were ready for me to, I’d start moving—”

“Fuck me hard, David.” He was panting, really into it now, probably stroking himself faster. David listened to hear the sound, the slick sound of Patrick jerking off. Fuck, that was so hot when he could hear the sound of it.

“I’d fuck you so hard that you’d have to grab the headboard, one hand on the bars and the other on your cock, and my hands are on your hips and I’m filling you up, making you feel so good.” David thrust his hips up into his own fist, imagining it, Patrick debauched on those floral sheets of Ray’s, desperate to come.

“Yes, you feel so good, fuck, you make it so…” Patrick trailed off into an unintelligible groan, and that was an easy sound to interpret too, the way he sounded when he came. David could almost taste it on the back of his tongue when he heard Patrick’s voice like that, broken and blissed out.

“I’m gonna come in you,” David mumbled, hand working quickly on the head of his own cock. “You’re so tight, so wet and tight and, god, clenching me, uhhh…” He dropped the phone and cupped his other hand over the head of his cock to keep the mess to a minimum as he orgasmed. After he’d finished, David lay there for a second, staring at the ceiling, breathing hard. Then he grabbed some tissues, wiped his hands off and picked up his phone.

“Hey.”

“You good?” Patrick asked.

“Mmhmm. You?”

“I’m good.” He sighed. “Let’s do that for real very soon, though.”

“Yeah.”

~~~

Question 5: Have you and your man ever engaged in a little afternoon delight during work? A. Doing anything like that during working hours would be wildly unprofessional. I would never. (1 point) B. I would, but we’ve never had the opportunity. (3 points) C. Once or twice, but I was worried we would get caught (5 points) D. Not only have we had sex in the office, but we’re sort of famous for it. (8 points)

“Ugh, so stupid,” David muttered. For two people who had fooled around in the back room of their store as much as Patrick and David had, he deserved maximum points on this question. They shouldn’t have to be ‘famous for it’ to get the highest points — that just showed indiscretion and probably would lead to people getting fired. He reluctantly circled C.

Question 6: How often do you and your partner enjoy dirty movies together? A. Never. I would be too embarrassed! (1 point) B. I would, but I’m afraid to ask my man about it (2 points) C. We did a couple of times, but I wasn’t really into it (3 points) D. We’ve enjoyed dirty movies together (6 points)

David smirked at the phrase ‘dirty movies’ as he circled D. In other words, did they watch porn together — probably not as unusual an activity today as it was might have been in 1991.

~~~

David looked up at Patrick over the top of Patrick’s laptop screen and waggled his eyebrows.

“What?”

“Your porn bookmarks aren’t very well hidden, Patrick.”

“Who do I need to hide them from? No one else uses my laptop except you,” Patrick said, setting his guitar aside to come sit on the bed next to David. “And I thought you were checking the online orders for the store, not looking for porn.”

“I was checking the online orders,” David said, clicking on one of the pornhub links. Based on the titles, it was pretty vanilla stuff from what David could see. “Oh, this guy’s hot,” he said, pointing to the man who was stroking himself on screen.

“Kind of reminds me of Jake, now that you mention it,” Patrick said.

“Ew, he looks nothing like Jake,” David said, giving his boyfriend a side-eye. “Is that why you…”

“No, I prefer the other guy.” Patrick pointed, and they watched in silence for a couple of minutes.

“Well, he certainly deep throats like a pro,” David commented.

“Exactly, it’s very aspirational.”

David shifted back and forth, feeling a little turned on but also uncomfortable with the turn this had taken. “You know you don’t need to… what you do is good. It’s excellent. Porn is, you know, it’s not real—”

“I know, David.” Patrick kissed him on the cheek. “You don’t need to explain that to me.”

“You’re great at blow jobs!” David blurted. “It’s important to me that you know that you’re great at them. That’s all.”

“Well, I hoped so, given how often you come in my mouth. It seemed like I was doing something right.”

David closed the computer and set it aside, pulling Patrick into his arms. “You do everything right.”

~~~

Question 7: Have you ever incorporated food into your sexy time with your man? A. No, it’s way too messy. (1 point) B. We tried it but we didn’t like it much. (2 points) C. Sure, for a special occasion we might bring some honey into the bedroom. (4 points) D. There’s no body part I wouldn’t eat whipped cream off of! (6 points)

David rolled his eyes and groaned out loud in annoyance. Incorporating food into sex was what magazines like this thought passed for kinky, because you weren’t going to find questions about butt plugs or spreader bars on the pages of an early 90s women’s magazine. David loved sex and he loved food, but combining them wasn’t sexy. Whipped cream in bed just ended up smelling like spoiled milk after a couple of hours, and no one wanted that. He circled A and moved on.

Question 8: It might be a high school throwback, but getting busy in a car can add some spice to your relationship. Have you done that? A. Never. What if someone caught us? (1 point) B. We managed to get to second base once before we gave up because it was too uncomfortable (3 points) C. We had some fun in the backseat when we were younger, but now we have a bed. (4 points) D. The illicit thrill of sex in the car is worth the risk! (7 points)

David circled D several times. At least there was one benefit to the fact that their living situations had forced them to make use of Patrick’s car for sex on several occasions.

~~~

“Ow.”

“Sorry.”

“You kneed me in the—”

Patrick kissed him, his hand coming down to stroke David’s abdomen where his knee had unfortunately ended up as he climbed over the center console. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” David whispered, reclining his seat back as far as it would go while Patrick produced a small bottle of lube from somewhere. “Let’s get this back on track.”

Patrick kissed him, deep and filthy, grinding against him with a roll of his hips, and David felt so desperate for it after the week they’d had that he thought he might spontaneously combust. Alexis had been constantly underfoot, as had Ray, and the storeroom was so packed with new merchandise that being in there just made David anxious about all the work that needed doing.

“I want you so badly, I feel like I could come in my pants just from this,” Patrick murmured. Then they were frantically getting clothes out of the way, all groping hands and gasped breaths, kisses getting messier as they got closer to climaxing, as Patrick thrust against David’s bare stomach, whining, his hand working David’s cock clumsily at the same time.

The sound of lubricated skin against skin was almost more arousing than being touched, and when David came, his hand flew out and hit the passenger window hard enough to bruise his knuckles, and when Patrick followed several seconds later, David was pretty sure his sweater had not been hiked up high enough to be spared from being ejaculated on. But then they were giggling into kisses, the damp air in the car stifling as they cleaned up and righted their clothes and continued to laugh.

“That was ridiculous. We’re grown men,” David said.

“And when two grown men love each other very much, sometimes they have to come all over each other in the front seat of a Toyota,” Patrick said, awkwardly climbing back into the driver’s seat.

“Shut up.”

Patrick just grinned widely at him as he started the car.

“I love you, too,” David said.

~~~

Question 9: Have you ever done the nasty with your man in the great outdoors? A. Never! It’s too risky. (1 point) B. I might try it if I could guarantee no one would see us. (2 points) C. Yes, but the sand in uncomfortable places made it less than ideal. (4 points) D. All the time! There’s nothing like sex under the open sky. (8 points)

Grimacing, David circled A. Never mind being seen, the risk from insects and spiders made outdoor sex a no-go for him. The fact that Patrick, who had grown up camping, never once suggested any activity to David requiring sleeping outdoors just went to show how well Patrick knew him.

Question 10: Do you dress up in sexy outfits for your man? A. No, it’s too embarrassing (1 point) B. I did once, but we’re too settled for that now (2 points) C. On special occasions, I might get into some lingerie (5 points) D. We regularly incorporate dress-up into our sex life (7 points)

~~~

“I’ve never seen you wear this jacket,” Patrick said, holding the sleeve out from the motel room closet.

David glanced over from where he was arranging his sweaters in the cedar chest. “I don’t think I’ve worn it since we started dating.” He knew he hadn’t, because David knew exactly the last time he’d worn it. It was the last time he’d had sex with someone who wasn’t Patrick.

Patrick pulled the hanger off the rod to get a closer look at it. “It’s a nice jacket. Why don’t you wear it?”

“Of course it’s a nice jacket; it cost almost three thousand dollars,” David sniffed.

“Jesus.” Patrick held it away from his body carefully like it might bite him.

“It’s Rick Owens,” David explained.

“I’ve heard of him,” Patrick said as he hung the jacket back in the closet.

“From me.”

Patrick walked over and kissed him. “Yes, from you.” Then kissed him again. “It’s a sexy jacket. I bet you look good in it.”

“I look amazing in it, that’s why I tended to wear it when I was trying to pick up a random,” David said. Or have a revenge fuck with an ex, he didn’t add.

Patrick pouted. “You never wore it for me.”

“You were never a random,” David said, putting his arms around Patrick. “You’re someone I respect and love.”

“Doesn’t mean I wouldn’t appreciate you in that jacket.”

Which was why the next morning, David showed up for work wearing the leather jacket over a long sleeved white t-shirt, and it was a good thing the store was empty, because the look in Patrick’s eyes as his gaze raked over David was by itself indecent.

“Goddamn.”

“What?” David said innocently, going behind the counter to set his things down.

“Please tell me you aren’t going to wear that all day,” Patrick said, reaching down to adjust the front of his jeans, which made David’s smirk hard to contain.

David stepped further back into the storeroom to grab a box of the shampoo; he’d noticed some gaps on the shelf as he came in. He didn’t even manage to pick up the box before Patrick had followed him and was pressed up against his back.

“You look so fucking sexy,” Patrick breathed.

“Mmm, do I?” David asked.

“You knew this would drive me crazy.”

“I might’ve had a suspicion.”

Patrick’s hips pressed against David’s ass. “I just want to bend you over and—”

“Not during store hours, honey,” David said, stepping away and picking up the box of shampoo.

“You’re a fucking tease.”

David kissed Patrick on the cheek as he went by. “Love you, too.”

They were extremely busy that day. There was a chocolate festival in Elm Valley that weekend, and thanks to Patrick’s idea to pay to be one of the festival sponsors, the Rose Apothecary name was emblazoned on a lot of the festival advertising. It paid off. There was no time for flirting on the floor and stolen kisses in the storeroom. They couldn’t even eat lunch together. But it didn’t mean that David didn’t catch Patrick staring at him a few times during the morning as he was ringing up a customer or restocking the merchandise.

When they finally saw the last customer out, twenty minutes after closing time, David was exhausted. He’d also shed the leather jacket hours ago because it had gotten too warm to wear it, so his naughty plans from that morning were mostly forgotten. He leaned against the door and closed his eyes.

“I think we might have broken our single day sales record,” Patrick said as he totalled up their take for the day. “How should we celebrate?”

“I can open some wine,” David suggested.

“Wine sounds great,” Patrick said, focused on going through the credit card receipts.

When David approached with two full glasses, Patrick took one with an inscrutable look on his face and clinked the glass against David’s. “To a successful day.”

“Mmm,” David murmured in agreement, taking a sip of wine.

“There’s one more thing we need to do, though,” Patrick said.

David looked around at their decimated stock and at the floor, filthy from all of the day’s foot traffic. “There’s a lot of things we need to do.”

Patrick sidled up close and put his mouth next to David’s ear. “Perhaps so, but first I need you to go in the back and put that jacket on. I’m going to fuck you while you’re wearing it.”

David’s dick reacted like it had been touched. “Patrick Brewer, I can’t believe you just said that.” He couldn’t stop himself from grinning widely at his boyfriend while he took another sip of wine.

“Now, David,” Patrick said, taking him by the shoulder and sort of shoving him toward the curtained off area, because he knew how much David liked it when Patrick manhandled him.

Shooting Patrick one more grin, David went back into the storeroom. He set his wine glass down on a shelf and picked up the coat, sliding his arms through the leather sleeves. This jacket had seen him through club openings and drug binges and a literal orgy. He’d worn it on some of the worst nights of his life, more of them than he could probably remember. He hadn’t consciously realized he’d retired it until Patrick asked him about it. Nonetheless, he found that it didn’t hold any power for having been with him during that time of his life. Now it was just a jacket that turned his boyfriend on, and David was happy for it to be that and nothing more.

Patrick came in and his expression had shifted. “Is this okay?” he asked softly. “Can I…”

David nodded. “I’ll use the safe word if you go too far. But you won’t.”

Wrapping his arms around David, Patrick’s hands slid down the back of the jacket to settle on David’s ass as he leaned in and kissed him, biting David’s lower lip hard enough to hurt. “Do you know what it was doing to me this morning, watching you walk around the store in this?” he murmured against David’s mouth.

“Tell me.”

“It made me want to devour you,” Patrick said, and then, as good as his word, he dropped to his knees and began unbuttoning David’s jeans.

David was only half-hard when Patrick took his cock in his mouth but it took almost no time before he was fully erect, gasping and clutching for the wall as Patrick’s fingernails sank into the swell of his ass and as he sucked expertly at David’s length. Too soon, he stopped, letting David’s cock slide from his mouth. Standing back up, Patrick guided David over to the table they used to unpack boxes, which thanks to the rush on the store today was mostly empty. “Bend over,” he said, pushing hard on David’s back. A thrill ran up David’s spine as he obeyed.

“Patrick, fuck,” he whined as Patrick kicked at the instep of one of David’s shoes until his legs were spread as wide as his pants would allow. David heard the snap of a cap of lube open and close, and then Patrick’s fingers were on him. The preparation he did for David was perfunctory at best, and it burned just a little when Patrick was pressing his cock inside, quicker than he ever had before. It didn’t stop David from pushing back, taking Patrick harder, faster, until he was buried deep.

“Tell me when I can—”

“You can,” David gasped. “You can move.”

Patrick’s thrusts were hard, making David’s hip bones collide painfully with the wood, and he reached out and braced himself by clutching the edge of the table.

“You love getting fucked, don’t you,” Patrick almost snarled, feral and dominant and it was very possibly the hottest thing David had ever experienced.

“I love it,” he groaned. “I love your cock.”

“Take it,” Patrick gritted out, his hips thrusting and the table shifting enough to rattle the bottles inside an unloaded box. “Take my cock.”

David was too distracted by how hard Patrick was fucking him, by the noises he was making, to even give any thought to his own cock, and before David knew it Patrick was groaning beautifully and pulsing inside him. As he was coming down, as Patrick’s softening cock was sliding out of David, as he felt wetness dripping down his inner thigh, Patrick somehow had the presence of mind to reach around with a slick hand and pump David’s cock, a quick and dirty handjob that worked surprisingly quickly.

After they had cleaned up as much as they could and made themselves reasonably decent, Patrick was full of soft kisses for David. “Thank you. That was amazing. Thank you.”

David smiled. “I’m glad you like the jacket.”

~~~

David circled D. Maybe it was a little bit of a cheat — they didn’t regularly incorporate dress-up. But he felt like he deserved a couple of extra points for how hot that afternoon with the jacket had been.

He totalled up his points (48) and flipped the page to see what his score meant.

Results:

11-30 points: Total power failure! You and your man need an emergency infusion of electricity into your relationship, or you risk losing him to a woman who can really blow his fuses!

David rolled his eyes at the pun and at the heteronormativity. He had way more points than that, anyway, he thought smugly.

31-58 points: In Need of a Generator. Your relationship with your man has some juice going to it, but you could stand to turn the power up. Try to be more adventurous together!

59-71 points: Electrical Storm! Your relationship is so hot that it’s in danger of setting the house on fire! That man of yours better appreciate what he has in you!

“What the fuck,” David said. In need of a generator??

“Fuck that,” he said, turning back and going through the questions again. He changed his answers for questions 3 and 5 to D, and for good measure changed his answer to the question about having sex outdoors to B. Maybe, for Patrick, he would be willing to risk a June bug attack and have sex outdoors. But only because of how much he loved Patrick.

He totalled up his points again and got 55, then checked the last page one more time.

In need of a generator.

He threw the magazine on the floor.

~~~~~~

“Feeling better?” Patrick asked when David emerged from the bathroom in a pair of comfortable sweats, freshly showered. Patrick was stretched out on David’s bed in the motel, watching TV.

“To be honest, I still feel a little like I’m walking on shaky logs suspended in the air.” He looked around. “Where did Alexis go?”

“She felt so bad about this afternoon that she and Ted collected your parents and they left to see a movie in Elmdale,” Patrick said, switching off the television.

“Alexis… and my parents… are in Elmdale,” David said.

“Yep.”

“For hours.”

“Yep.”

“We have this room all to ourselves. With no one next door to barge in on us.” David was trying to restrain himself from grinning like a lunatic, but it was a failing endeavor.

“That’s correct,” Patrick said, coming over and wrapping his arms around David. “So if you feel like we’re capable of generating some excitement—”

“I said I was sorry about that—”

“I know,” Patrick said, kissing him.

“I’ve never been in a long-term relationship with someone before.”

“I know that.”

“So I don’t know what it’s supposed to feel like,” David went on. “I started to worry that we don’t tear into each other in the back of the store as much as we used to.”

“David, I’m kind of glad that I’m not as obsessed with having sex with you as I was when we first got together. It was hard to think about anything else, which was kind of inconvenient since we were trying to get the store off the ground.”

“It was really hot, though,” David whispered.

“Things between us are still really hot,” Patrick said, his hand cupping David’s cock through his sweats.

David looked back at his bed and sighed.

“I know, it’s a small bed,” Patrick said, reading his mind. “Hasn’t stopped us before.”

“Well, there was that time you tried to flip us over and we ended up on the floor,” David said as Patrick reached behind his back and pulled his own t-shirt off over his head. “And then my dad started shouting at us through the wall, asking if we’d broken something.”

“Only my dignity,” Patrick said as he shucked off his jeans. “So I won’t try that particular move.”

Once their clothes were off, they settled into bed, David spooning up against Patrick’s back. He kissed Patrick’s shoulder, arm wrapped around his midsection, and for a few minutes they just lay there and enjoyed being naked together. David was aroused but it was a distant thing. Mostly he was just enjoying the physical touch, the fact that he had someone he could be this intimate with. No magazine quiz could capture a moment like this.

“Is it weird that I’d be equally happy if we just cuddled right now?” David asked softly, lips still trailing over Patrick’s skin. “I mean, that’s some kinky shit, right?”

Patrick laughed. “We can just cuddle if that’s what you want, David. It did occur to me that the adrenaline crash from the tree walk might have left you too tired for sex.”

He was tired, and he closed his eyes, focusing on the sensation of Patrick’s back against his chest, his ass cradled in the bend of David’s pelvis, David’s knees pressed into the backs of his legs.

“On the other hand, we’re alone. And fucking feels really good.”

“It does.”

David shifted his hips, his cock getting harder as he generated some friction between them. “Can I… can I just fuck your thighs? Just like this?”

Patrick gasped. “Yeah, that… yeah.” He reached over and pulled open the drawer of David’s nightstand, passing the lube he found back to David.

David slicked himself and Patrick up and they shifted around a bit until it was perfect, until David could move easily back and forth, reaching around to stroke Patrick’s cock in time with his own thrusts. They kept things on a low simmer for a little while, David’s teeth scraping Patrick’s shoulder as he slowly fucked him.

“I love our relationship, too,” Patrick murmured, his head tilted back, his hand gripping David’s thigh. “I love watching you design things for the store. I love your complicated coffee order. I love your sweaters and your eyebrows and the way your hands move when you talk.”

David gasped, tears coming to his eyes. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

Things accelerated then, David chasing his orgasm with sharper thrusts, Patrick clenching his thighs together and moaning as David stroked him in a tight fist. They came together, a gasping mess of limbs.

When their breathing finally slowed, Patrick murmured. “These sheets are ruined.”

“I’ll strip the bed and wash them before Stevie has to do it,” David said. He usually wanted post-coital clean up to happen immediately, especially when they were in danger of ending up glued to each other like this, but right now he couldn’t bring himself to move. He stroked Patrick’s arm. “Thanks for putting up with me today.”

“David, you’re the best thing that’s happened in my life. ‘Putting up with you’ isn’t ever what I would call it, even when you’re being a little ridiculous.”

David’s eyes squeezed shut, and he pressed his forehead against Patrick’s shoulder. “Okay. I love you.”

“And no more taking relationship quizzes, please?”

David sniffed. “I can’t promise that.”

Chuckling, Patrick peeled himself away from David and stood up, heading toward the bathroom. “Just for that, I’m taking the first shower. And I love you, too.”

David buried his face in his pillow and smiled.

[werewolves-are-real]

Hello! if it isn't too much to ask, can you share a short snippet of whatever you're currently working on? I am particularly fond of your Temeraire fic, but anything would be good - I am enjoying your latest immensely, although Star Trek is not my fandom.

:) Thank you! It’s always nice to hear people enjoy the writing.

I’m having a lot of fun writing more Star Trek - it’s nice to write something different. It seems like I only talk about Temeraire these days, ha, so I included excerpts from a Temeraire fic *and* a Star Trek fic below

The Temeraire snippet is from a fic where things... escalate at the start of book 2, The Star Trek fic is from an old, old WIP I never posted, where I wanted to address the way the crew (and especially McCoy) tend to criticize Spock’s heritage. It’s old and.. not so great, but I like pieces of it, so I’m considering rewriting it (once I’m done with other fics, hopefully)

(Temeraire)

Laurencewakens slowly after the battle. The last thing he remembers is thefighting; Temeraire was flying, the boarders had been repelled, andthen a Petit Chevalier was falling upon them...

“Sir,”says Mr. Allen. “Are you awake? Do not try to rise, please.”

Ignoringthis, Laurence levers himself up with an elbow. He looks around;Digby and Allen are crouched around him, each holding a hand over thehilts of their swords. The three of them are behind the bend ofTemeraire's leg, and in the distance Laurence can hear an argument.

“Iswear to you,” Admiral Barham's voice rings out, “If CaptainLaurence resists we will use force...”

“Goodgod, man, shut up,” Granby snaps. Laurence winces in mortification;the lieutenant will get himself booted from the service, using thatkind of language against an admiral. “Captain Laurence is injured,and you must wait to see him.”

ButBarham's threat has already roused Temeraire. Above them theCelestial lowers his head, snarling. His ruff is blood-streaked andgory from the battle; with his teeth bared he looks savage.

Barhamroars, “You will control that beast, Lieutenant! All of you willstand down, or we will take action - “

“No,Sir,” Granby snaps. “No farther, not one damned step. Temeraire,if these men make ready you may knock them down.”

Thatis too far. Laurence struggles to his feet, ignoring Digby's objects.“Help me up,” he snaps, when Allen insists on waiting for thesurgeon. “I must speak with the admiral.'

Reluctantly,they support him from under the protective shadow of Temeraire's leg.Barham scowls tremendously as soon as he appears.

“Thereyou are,” he says. Granby looks furious. “Did you think you couldhide here like a coward? You are under arrest, and if you prevaricateany more than by god I will have the Sergeant shoot you.” Hegestures to a nearby officer, who reluctantly levels a gun inLaurence's direction, flinching under the weight of Temeraire'sgrowl. “And stand down that animal, at once!”

“Iwill not stand down,” Temeraire says. “And you are not comingnear Laurence, not at all.”

Temeraireraises a claw. At the same moment Granby makes a quick gesture.Immediately the nearest aviators jump behind Granby, forming a line.They start to raise their rifles.

Ashot rings out.

Laurenceslides to the ground, startled. Granby shouts. More gunshots.Temeraire roars – loud enough to rattle his bones – and above thetreeline, at the edge of the clearing, Maximus suddenly looms up. Hepeers over with alarm, alerted by the commotion. All over the covertother dragons rise to look their way too.

“CaptainLaurence!” Digby cries. His hands are covered in blood, and hepushes futilely at Laurence's side. Laurence stares at him, thenlooks down. His jacket is soaked and red.

Laurencerealizes that Allen is holding him by the shoulders, bearing all hisweight.

He'sbeen shot.

“Oh,hell,” Laurence says aloud, and knows nothing more.

______________________________

It'snight when Laurence awakens. He looks up at the star-studded sky,trying in vain to remember the name for the little cluster of lightsabove his head. He's lying atop Temeraire and recognizes the scalesbeneath himself without any issue; maybe this is why it takes him toolong to remember the shooting, and Barham's yells, and the screams.

Laurencetries to stand.

“Oh,there you are,” says Mr. Allen. “Please do not get up, Sir, notagain. Roland, can you tell the lieutenant he's awake?”

Emilyscuttles away. Looking around, Laurence sees that for some reasonhe's resting in a a jumble of blankets and medical-supplies atopTemeraire's back. He becomes aware of people speaking in thedistance; then they cut off, abruptly, and under him Temeraire jolts.“Laurence!” the dragon cries. “Are you well?”

“Yes,my dear,” Laurence lies. His leg is throbbing in time with hisheart, and Laurence doesn't think he could stand,even if Allen let him try; the wound in his side makes him feelqueerly like he could snap in half if he made any wrong movement.“What has happened?”

“Well,I killed that awful admiral,” Temeraire explains. “So now we areall rebelling, but everyone is arguing about how to do it, eventhough I'm not sure how anyone would fight us.”

Laurencestares at him helplessly for a moment. Then he manages to prophimself on one elbow, looking around.

Thereare other dragons crowded into Temeraire clearing; more have sweptaway the trees to combine their space with that of Maximus. There aredragons coiled atop one another, heavy-weights on the bottom withclusters of Yellow-Reapers and Longwings and Bright Coppers clingingto their backs. And in between the dragons are the crews, andservants from all over, with a group of men and women wearingcaptain's-bars standing in a semi-circle before Temeraire.

Andeveryone is craning to look at Laurence.

Laurencedoes not immediately give speech to his dawning horror; Granbyscrambles up Temeraire's side, looking profoundly relieved. There's astreak of blood across his forehead; he doesn't seem to notice. “Sir.I'm glad you're awake – should we call the surgeon?”

“Forgetthe damn doctor,” says Laurence. “What the devil happened?”

(Star Trek)

McCoy has now been aboard for fourteen days, or two Terran weeks.Spock is well aware that his own interactions with the doctor couldbe interpreted as increasingly hostile. He feels no need to censurehimself. If he cannot risk reporting the doctor or properlyreprimanding him, he at least refuses to meekly submit to the man'sslurs. He has survived worse, and he will not give this human thepleasure of victory.

To this end he continues to verbally spar with the man, but howevermuch he makes the doctor sputter and grumble the man always comesback. And however efficiently and logically Spock can cut him down,humans do not much appreciate logic. Officers who watch theirarguments continually express amusement, and this rankles worse thanthe man himself.

After one too many incidents of open disrespect that leave hisscience department highly amused at his expense, Spock resolves tofinally reprimand the irrepressible doctor when he next acts in a wayunfitting a Starfleet officer. Public humiliation is never pleasant,but he is long past the point of having to tolerate racism. McCoyshows every sign of staying aboard for a long while, and Spock willnot let this situation continue.

Then the captain develops Vegan Choriomeningitis.

There is little warning when it happens. The bridge is quiet andcalm, officers moving with easy efficiency. It's only the second hourafter the shift's beginning - late enough for the officers to haveproperly woken, and early enough that everyone is still energized.Except, unusually enough, for the captain.

Spock notices the captain's blinking eyes and the quick, painedgestures he makes to his head. A headache, obviously, but these arefairly frequent among humans. Not a matter of much concern, howeverunpleasant. The captain seems tired as well, but he assumes this is aside-effect.

When Yeoman Tracey hands the captain a requisitions form, though,the man just seems puzzled. Instead of skimming and signing thedocument, he stares at it blankly for some two minutes, Traceystanding awkwardly by his side.

No one else seems to notice, but Spock keeps his attention on theentirety of the bridge. So he hears Tracey hesitantly ask, “Issomething the matter, Sir?” and turns just in time to see thecaptain crumple to the floor.

“Send for a medical team,” Spock snaps efficiently before Uhuracan even turn to see the source of the noise. Jumping, she quicklycomplies.

Spockwaves off the frantic yeoman impatiently, checking the captain'scondition with quick, careful fingers. His skin is significantlyhotter than normal for a human - 39ºC (102.2ºF)- but he seems not to have injured his head in the fall, which isgood. The man's pulse is a rapid flutter, but weak. Spock tilts hishead. The captain must have realized he was sick, and ignored it, tohave come to this state. Illogical.

The door slides open, and in a whiskof blue uniforms and terse orders McCoy takes Kirk straight toSickbay.

______________________________

The whole ship gains a certain tensionwhen the captain is in sickbay. Spock also finds, unpleasantly, thatmore eyes watch him. People want assurance that they are underadequate leadership. Spock wonders if people are comforted by hisdirection. He doubts it.

When the immediate crisis will likelybe over, and the doctor thus free to speak, Spock hands the con toSulu and makes for the infirmary.

“Took you long enough,” McCoysnaps at the sight of him.

Spock doesn't bother with a rebuttal.“Report on the captain's condition.”

Face darkening, a scowl on his face,McCoy complies. “It's not good. Vegan Choriomeningitis. Damn thinghas a high enough fatality rate as is, and Jim, the idiot, has let itgo on much longer than advisable.”

Spock nods. “To my understanding,Vegan choriomeningitis is fatal if left untreated within 24 hours.”

“I can't tell when he picked it up -the incubation period is unpredictable. All we can do at this pointis treat him and hope for the best.”

Spock considers the situation, andsays honestly, “Given the captain's nature, it is quite possible hehas been suffering for far longer than twenty-four hours. Death islikely.”

From what he knows of the captain'snature this is true. Indeed, had Kirk not collapsed on the bridge helikely would have struggled through the entire shift, though Spockknows that this particular disease causes extreme pain in the musclesand extremities. He is an admirably determined man - but, in thiscase, sadly misguided. His death will be... truly regrettable.

But McCoy seems suddenly angry.

“Damn it, man, do have a heart atall?” He bursts.

Spock blinks, wondering at thenon-sequitur. “I fail to see how my physiology is relevant to thepresent situation,” he says, honestly puzzled.  McCoy's sole focusshould be on the captain.

The doctor seems, if anything, evenmore furious. “I'm not in the mood for your damn logic, and I don'tknow what Jim sees in you. A computer has more feelings than aVulcan!”

This being said, McCoy dramaticallystomps into his office, leaving Spock blinking and perplexed in themain portion of Sickbay.

So, with little else to do, Spockleaves.

_______________________________

Later, this is what Spock learns;

Kirk goes into a critical state. Hisbody starts to overheat from the disease, and inflammation to thebrain causes him to have a seizure. After he is stabilized, McCoythrows caution to the wind and tries an experimental drug regimen -dangerous, untried, and wholly inadvisable by every tenet of logic.

It also works.

Quickly, asa matter of fact. The nurses and some biologists talk about theincredible benefit this will bring to the medical community; everyoneelse is just glad to hear that the captain is awake and talking lessthan a day after his collapse.

He is, of course,also tired. Spock assesses the captain's condition when he visits himin Sickbay. Kirk seems to have grown more pale during his shortillness. His face shines with sweat, his hair limp and lifeless. Hismovements are slow and fatigued, made only with great effort. But heseems relieved.

“It was close.And not a pleasant experience.”

“As you nearlydied, I would not expect it to be.”

Kirk smilesweakly. “Oh, not just the pain. Though that wasn't fun. I gotdelirious at the end.”

“That is acommon symptom of the disease,” Spock consoles.

“Whichisn't much of a comfort when you've rambled out all your secrets.”Kirk gives an embarrassed laugh. “I'm just glad it wasBones,” he says. “I trust him, you know? The things I said...”He shakes his head. “Anyway, he said to stop by sickbayimmediately, in the future,if I'm feeling off. What a pain; do you know how often this job givesme a headache?” He shakes his head. “But, I can deal with it forBones. Only for him! I'm not typically a fan of doctors - I'm glad Iconvinced him to come aboard.”

“It is indeedfortunate,” Spock murmurs, trying not to imagine this man dead.

Soon afterwardKirk drifts into sleep. And Spock, reluctantly, resigns himself totolerating Leonard McCoy for so long as he can safeguard thecaptain's health.

[unproduciblesmackdown]

people really out here drawing will roland's characters to be more conventionally attractive. like huh? like they think he's not as likable if he's not up to perfect eurocentric beauty standards. draw his nose and glasses and muffin top you cowards! and then they claim it's just their "style" when they're really just refusing to practice variety. and also that's one reason i like your art, you have a nice style that's specific to you while staying true to character design and expressing variety

yeah really like we were just talking about how even when ppl seem to be basing their jared largely on will, it’s relatively rare to see those versions of jared that like....really particularly resemble him or any other actors and don’t change up his features so much that it’s basically just like....sort of nondescript white guy with brown hair and glasses like. whomst.

i mean, there’s the disclaimers like how really there’s no requirement to be basing your design on any actual actor and nothing that says you can’t use actors as just Loose Inspiration and change things up however (though even that’s like, probably you need to use some judgment, i.e. for characters where some aspect of their appearance affects the story/character, and also if you’re gonna do something like make a character played by actors of color white: why) and like a lot of the time you could even invent the appearance entirely from your own imagination if you want

but still most people are obviously basing how they draw jared in the way he appears as the play and like, since will roland did it first and for years and basically the whole costume is just right from his own outfits it’s like........yeah nobody can pretend he’s not gonna impact anybody’s ideas of What Jared Looks Like and, even if they went off and uh Reinterpret the look of the character in another way, he was probably also plenty of other people’s Starting Point in terms of how they imagine jared to look......And Yet so often like. the way people draw jared makes it seem like it might as well have been someone totally different. like yknow feel free to make changes but a) it’s weird that this one character can be sort of detached from any particular Visual Source and also b) okay why is like, everyone deciding to make changes so that Jareds That Look All That Much Like William are definitely in the minority and c) why are the changes being made all like.......towards being Nondescript Conventional Attractiveness

like, the time i tweeted out “is the character sympathetic or do you just consider the actor to be hot” i was entirely thinking of will playing jared and how like, despite all the seniors being super similar and really at least as sympathetic as evan, jared and alana kind of get ignored or even treated as antagonistic to evan and/or less important/complex/sympathetic and like......okay so people don’t think jared’s cute if he looks like will roland and alana is played by a black actress and i’m just taking notes is all....just taking notes.....mm......

and yknow at least with will originating the role like, people seem to be more aware that they owe him their entire lives, but now that he’s taking over a role from a guy that plenty of people Considered More Attractive......suddenly he can’t act or sing and was alone hired for clout which, yknow, we’ve been through dismantling this wild idea lmao but like. if it had been will roland in 1.0 and wconn in 2.0/3.0 we KNOW that there wouldn’t be this contempt over the change lmao we knowwww this

and like seriously there is No Such Thing as any sort of person’s physical features not “fitting” with an artist’s Style or Aesthetic or whatever...it just means they’re unwilling to draw features that look like that. like yeah sure, it’s a factor that you might be more used to / practiced drawing [physical trait] a certain specific “default” way and so if you try something else it won’t be as Good, but that’s like, not an excuse to refuse to draw a certain kind of appearance, Especially if you’re gonna be drawing a specific person/character and then really change up parts of their appearance in a way that just so happens to be more Conventionally Attractive according to the standards of racism and fatphobia and the general shittiness that dictates what’s attractive or not because that’s an entirely subjective thing and the Standards Of Beauty vary a lot from culture to culture and like. changing up traits because you think it’s too ugly as-is is always a crap idea is the point

like, i saw fanart for deh before i actually saw content from the show, and as soon as i hit on some fanart that draw jared as Not actually being all thin i was like oh man this means the actor isn’t actually thin doesn’t it lol....cuz even if it’s just like 5-10% of the fanart depicting him that way it’s like, yeah, okay, that’s the kind of proportion you might expect to see. because like, okay plenty of people are like ugh i don’t wanna draw fat people, but drawing a body type like will roland’s as jared is Really not asking a lot. which like, clearly yknow, plenty of people are like eh it’s not that big of a difference if I Draw Him Lean...which like! yeah exactly it’s not that much of a difference so you might as well draw him with that muffin top 8 times a week spillin outta some fancy emily rebholz-chosen shorts!! i’m sure some people just like, may truly have not been aware of said all-important muffin top because you know. it’s overlookable? but i’m not letting Most Others get away with their conscious slimming down of the character. which nobody has any good excuse for wanting to do

meanwhile his nose gets changed almost as often as in, god it is a beautiful occasion where i see someone draw it at all like william’s like. please. really like this is something that comes up so often where even if people are drawing like, the equivalent of stick figures, i.e. just drawing a Neutral Abstract Person, it’s probably not all that neutral, in terms of like oh everyone has the exact same shape and thickness to their body, and if they’re drawing noses it tends to be like.....the Default is generally this concave-ridged, narrow, pointed deal and it’s like mmmmm. the idea that noses can’t be too wide or long or rounded or anything is definitely Standards Of Whiteness and then how you have the pervasive idea that a downturned nose w/ a convex profile is Ugly and signifies that the person is Bad is a specifically deeply anti-semitic one.....like god that feels like the truly rarest thing off all to see when people draw jared. it’s definitely not that damn hard. why does everyone ever feel the need to change his nose completely!! this is not rhetorical b/c the answer is Known. we knowwww

and then P.S. it’s like hey bastards..........you wanna draw a skinny jared look who’s right over there......why it’s actor sky lakota-lynch!!! Feel Free Anytime