#modu progress

[rigelmejo]

Modu chapter 5. I love this scene. Fei du hams up the flirting so much, then when he's invited in he's not ready to take it. And Tao Ran takes that moment to let fei du down gently. But really, this scene says so much about how fei du uses flirting and other actions versus what he'd most like to.

不知道，一个字太少了，过度解读容易误导。”费渡一笑，“陶然，到你家了。”

陶然回过神来，这才意识到自己和他讨论的太多了，他推开车门正想走，忽然想起了什么，又回头问：“你吃饭了吗，上去等会，我给你下碗馄饨。”

费渡明显一愣，目光有一瞬间滑开了：“你邀请我去你家？不怕进展太快了？”

他���然把话说得很暧昧，人却坐在车里没动。

“不想来就说不想来，反正你也不差这一口。”陶然握住车门，微微弯下腰，“手伸出来。”

费渡莫名其妙地伸出手，陶然掏出一把东西塞进他手心：“你想投入一片大海的时候，最好的办法是换好衣服，自己下去游两圈，而不是死抱着个救生圈在旁边泡脚——你并不想掰弯我，别再胡闹了，哥回家了，你回去开车慢点。”

费渡沉默地看着他走进有些老旧的筒子楼，低头看了看陶然给他的东西。那是他早晨送花时候夹的卡片，香水味还没散净，还有一把奶糖。

[vampiric-touch]

Ah yes. It’s just me and my WIPS vs the world.

The neglected husk of a child, the golden child, the favourite, and the dark horse.

Lest we forget the fallen. 😔

[tarysande]

The best part about coming back to the source material after a looooong time is you sorta get a fresh look at canon in comparison to whatever the dominant strains of fanon have become. Or, in fact, whatever your own dominant strains of headcanon have become.

I mean, yes, Garrus “I’m not a good turian” Vakarian gets infinitely cooler (and more competent!) by pretty much every metric as the storyline progresses. He does. But fresh out of ME1 and into ME2 through his recruitment, I find myself genuinely amused by how thin the veneer of badass is over a pretty dominant core of straight-up nerd sprinkled with idealism mixed with self-doubt.

When you have Garrus in the squad all the time (and thus get all his ambient dialogue and remarks), you really pick up on the number of times he calls out bad behavior, unethical actions, cruelty, and rule-breaking, especially in ME1.

He’s not actually a hothead who can’t abide rules of any kind. In fact, most of the time he’s pretty pro-law-and-order, and he gets amusingly hall-monitorish when people are breaking rules he considers important and worth following.

Fundamentally, Garrus chafes when his sense of what is just is at odds with what the authorities do about that injustice (or what they stop him from doing). And I would hazard a guess that the reason his actions seem so intense or harsh or "of course we should have shot down that ship in the middle of the Citadel" is indicative not of his impatience but of the degree to which he thinks the authorities have failed to uphold that justice. We know he can be patient. He's a sniper. His whole modus operandi on Omega is precision kills without civilian casualty. But when that long fuse finally burns down, he goes from zero to shooting down ships in the middle of the Citadel in what looks (from the outside) like a heartbeat.

And yes, injured pride hastens the burning of that fuse; he doesn’t like losing. Or admitting defeat. Or failing.

Having just replayed his recruitment mission, a few things really stood out to me this time.

The merc bands really hate him--and they also reluctantly admire him (he's described as smart, resourceful, dangerous, idealistic, brave, slippery; they all agree they only way they managed to get this far is by isolating him and employing dirty tactics). I mean, there's literally a station-wide announcement that Omega can return to "business as usual" once Archangel is out of the picture because he was disrupting things so completely.

The way Garrus blames himself for the deaths of his squad is so freaking turian. Failure reflects on the leader who places his people in danger they can't handle, not the individual who fails. Heavy is the head that wears the crown. Yes, Sidonis betrayed him, but the person Garrus blames the most? Is himself. For trusting Sidonis in the first place. For raising Sidonis to a position where he had the means and opportunity to harm others--and the weakness of character to turn coat, to save his own hide, instead of dying to protect the others.

Garrus mentions more than once that he was trying to emulate Shepard. And his tone always implies that he knows he failed because Shepard would never have let a Sidonis into the fold. Again, he's blaming himself. Like a good turian. Yes, he wanted to avoid the red tape and bureaucracy of C-Sec, but his code--Archangel's code--certainly aligns with Paragon Shepard's morality (with a Garrus Vakarian twist).

And since it wouldn't be meta without adding a Tara's Headcanon Twist ... I've always wondered why "Archangel" when it's such a ... human concept. But this time, when I noticed how he spoke about Shepard's influence, and how quickly he brushes aside the name when she asks him about it, I wondered if it wasn't actually his way of honoring the mythology of the dead woman whose example he was trying to follow. Not that Shepard is a God he's worshiping, but ... there is something about the way he talks about her. Garrus doesn't make himself over in the image of a God, though; he's the soldier, the right hand, the avenging angel responsible for carrying out divine punishments suited and proportional to the crimes committed, the rules broken, the selfishness or cruelty of the perpetrator.

[endearng]

Lifeline

Pairing: earlyseasons!Spencer Reid x addict!reader Summary: How does one move on after seeing the lost versions of themselves on someone else entirely? WC: 8.8k Warnings: canon criminal minds violence (m-rder); pr-stitution and mentions of sex; s.h-rm; illegal substances consumption; mentions of dr-g abuse; panic attacks; graphic suicide attempt. Minors, please, do not interact. A/N: This is heavily based on "The A Team", "Gale Song" and "evermore" and also Skins UK's character Effy Stonem. Besides that, I was also somewhat inspired by CM'S 2x11 and I messed up the timeline. Feedbacks are always welcome! | masterlist

"Her name's Amelia Holden. She was found in a dumpster in an alley of a neighborhood in central Richmond. Along with her, we have four women murdered within two weeks." JJ informed as she briefed the team about the case they were invited to work on.

Their reactions always were different. Aaron Hotcher remained unreadable, often asking about the local police's findings. Derek Morgan usually worried about victimology and the modus operandi. Emily Prentiss used to brainstorm details on the pictures. David Rossi was the one to make comparisons with previous cases. Spencer Reid busied himself with data, statistics and whatnot about the locality.

Speaking of which, "This is an high-end neighborhood, not to mention the obvious fact that it happened in the capital of Virginia. Based on that, one could think that the citizens will cooperate to solve this as fast as we can."

Derek sighed, "I wish I could tell you're wrong in different circumstances, pretty boy." Spencer frowned, eager to ask, but Derek was faster, "Truth is, these girls were all prostitutes. The rich won't give a damn if they go missing, which is pure hypocrisy based on the fact that they go where the money is, which is, well... in their neighborhood." JJ pursed her lips, taking another look at the evidence.

There were pictures of four girls, placed so carelessly in the dumpster that it was possible to deduce that they had been all thrown in there already dead. Not a single chance of survival. Not a single chance someone could save them. JJ felt a lump in her throat and looked away from the photos.

“It’s most likely a male.” Rossi said.

Emily nodded, asking, "So what do you guys think? Maybe this guy is murdering them because he thinks he's doing society a favor?"

"It could be, yes. When prostitutes are targeted, the main reason is misogyny, but we can also associate these crimes to other forms of hatred. It can also be related to power." Spencer answered. "Are there any signs of sexual abuse?"

"No, only physical violence." JJ answered. "The coroner's reports indicate that they were drugged, some of them with multiple substances. There are red bruises as well as knife scars and stabs basically all over their bodies."

"Multiple substances in their body can be a sign of addiction, but also that our unsub drugged them to make them easier to drag around." Spencer continued. “Does the lab have the substances yet?”

“Garcia is working on it.” JJ replied.

"And the amount of cuts and bruises on their bodies mean that our unsub is angry. Like, uncontrollably angry." Emily finished.

"Well, he's killed both black and white women, so we know it's not race motivated." Rossi completed Emily's train of thought. "He's been getting more and more desperate, given the depths of the cuts as he progresses, look." He said, pointing to the picture of the last victim.

Emily gulped, shaking her head lightly.

“I’d say that, given the color of the bruises, they were beaten right before they died. This unsub doesn’t keep them for much longer. Most likely, he tortures them and kills them, getting rid of them in the dumpsters. The place of disposal is rather telling.” Spencer chimed in.

"Get Garcia to look up sex offenders in that area." Hotch said. "Try to find them all, no matter what their outcome was. Close, dropped... It doesn't matter. If the theory about social cleansing is right, maybe the offender has a past history with it. On the other hand, if he's rich, he probably got away with it."

"I'll call her right now." Morgan said with a nod.

"Great. tell the Richmond PD we're getting there in a couple of hours." Hotch announces. "Wheels up in thirty."

—

Arriving in the precinct, Hotchner assigned the tasks. Rossi and Morgan would go to the latest crime scene as Reid and Prentiss looked around for possible witnesses. JJ would stay at the precinct in case something came up.

"Check this out," called Rossi. "The... instrument was big enough to go through her body, from her stomach to her back." He said.

Morgan sighed. "Intensified violence means that he's not planning on stopping any time soon."

A couple feet away, agents Reid and Prentiss talked to one of the prostitutes. "We're always here, especially at night. Some girls are here during the daytime, but you know, it's slower. Nobody wants to be seen with us." She had bloodshot eyes, a defeated expression on her features. 

"Who are your usual... customers?" Reid asked, a little embarrassed to be talking to a woman who had that much expertise in a field he lacked any. A flash of worry and guilt crossed the young woman's face and she looked around as if making sure no one was listening to them.

"Don't worry, everything's classified. You're not gonna get in trouble if you talk to us. We're just trying to help." Emily said, trying to ease her nerves.

"Okay... I... The guys who work in the bank are often here. Cops, too. But they are very sneaky." She whispered, fright almost palpable in her voice.

"Did any of them ever pose a threat? Maybe too violent? Persistent?" The young doctor asked, again. She blinked at him, willing the tears not to fall.

"Most of them are just bored husbands or divorcees who want to get laid without the worry of being chased after." Looking away, she went on, "we’re the ones who can't afford to say no to the things they're into. We get the best of their roughness, so it's hard to tell." Emily gave her a sympathetic look.

From afar, you watched their interactions. The girl, whose name was Renée, looked very nervous and guilty. You approached them, looking a lot more skeptical than the emotional mess they were asking questions to. You took a look at them, took in the way they were dressed, besides the pens and notepads in their hands. The man took a second look at you, but you shrug it off, used to be perceived and not always in the best manner, given your appearance these days. “You ok, Renée?" You checked on her softly and she nodded in agreement. "Excuse me. Are you with the police?" You ask in a serene voice.

"Hi. I'm Agent Emily Prentiss and this is Doctor Spencer Reid. We're with the FBI," the dark haired woman answered, both of them showing you their badges. You nodded. "We're investigating the murder of women in this location."

Spencer looked at you as you inspected their faces. You wore casual clothes, nothing like the outfit Renée had on, and, for a moment, he thought what were you doing in there and how and why did you know her. It didn't make sense, albeit briefly, to him, why would someone so mundane be in that place, at that time. After a couple of seconds of watching you curiously, the pieces started falling into places, though. The crestfallen expression, dry skin and chapped lips... You were going through something.

He had a feeling he wasn't sure if he wanted to know what.

That is, until you actually started talking.

"Hello," you introduce yourself. "Oh, I see. I didn’t think the locals would be interested in solving these anyway."

“Why do you say that?” Emily asked, curious to know your answer.

“I suppose they don’t like the fact that some of us are so daring to the point of going to their station to report the abuse we all go through weekly,” you snorted, voice thick with disdain, although every person in the conversation was aware that it was not aimed at either of them, “like, why are we complaining? We want to do this, we are willingly here.” Emily sighed.

“I’m sorry.” Was all that Spencer could muster up.

“Anyway…” you sniffled. A telling sign. “How can we help?”

"Have you seen anyone violent around here? A-a new face, perhaps?" He asked, turning his body to face you properly. Emily looked at him, puzzled.

"Doctor, with all due respect, they are men. And they are paying. It’s basically a green light for all sorts of abuse, I'm sure Renée told you that much." You answered, in a much more certain tone than your friend had used.

"Did either of you recall anything about that night? The most basic detail can help us.” Emily inquired.

"Yeah." Renée answered with a quiver of her lip, clinging to you, trying to find some solace. You squeezed her shoulder lightly, glancing at her.

Sensing she might not be able to talk, you went on, "I can't think of anything out of the ordinary that night. I didn't notice they were missing until the next day. We try our best to watch out for each other. As I said, some men can be real creeps, but once you start your own thing, it's… hard” you exhaled, “for some of us to keep track of what's going on around us. Unless we run into each other again, we won't know for sure if we're actually safe." You explained, looking down at your feet. After a couple deep breaths that felt like you were inhaling the oxygen of the entire Earth, you looked back at them. Still avoiding eye contact, glancing between their foreheads, something you'd learned to do in order to escape the person you were with when you needed to.

Spencer watched you the entire time.

“I see,” the woman said, taking some notes. “Would you know if they share anything in common?”

“They usually stay in the park at the end of the street,” Renée answered, “They go there once things quiet down, and guys pick them up in their cars. The night they were… um, taken, was pretty intense. If they got kidnapped, we couldn’t even give you a license plate. We weren’t around.” Her voice dripped with pure guilt. You ran your thumb on her shoulder.

At the moment, though, there's something else entirely on your mind. Eventually, after a beat of silence, you decide to speak your mind, to expose your insecurities. Not worried about how you may look. Hell, it's been a long time since you stopped. "I'm sorry to press or if I sound too demanding. I know sometimes things get out of your control, but, uh, you're gonna catch this guy, right? I mean... we have to be here. I hope you don't think we have another choice."

As you talked, your soft voice and pleading eyes drew Spencer's attention to you with even more intensity. Your voice and mannerisms weren't something he was expecting. He berated himself after realizing how he was in the wrong by assuming you’d portray yourself in a certain way because of the area you worked in. Your voice was low, but firm. Your words were understanding, but demanding. Your posture was almost defensive, but the desperation of your tone told them how terrified you were. He couldn't help but notice the fact that you were sniffing quite often. His profiling skills were faster than himself and he made the conclusion that, given the line of your work, he presumed it most likely wasn’t only a cold.

Spencer knew, then, that you shared something in common with him. Something bad.

Again, not something he wanted to know about.

Emily opened her mouth to speak, but Spencer beat her to it, "We're gonna do the best we can, Miss."

"Glad to hear that," you muttered, unable to look him in the eye.

“Thanks for your time.” Emily said, a gentle smile on her face.

Spencer watched from the corner of his eye as you and René left, walking arm in arm. In a safe distance from everyone else, he saw as your friend broke down in your arms and as you comforted her, even if you had your own tears streaming down your face. He had reached Morgan and Rossi when you two walked away. Emily studied his face attentively, wondering why he was so fast to assure a possible victim like that, because, one, it was unlike him to want to partake in such sensitive conversations with the ones involved in the process. Two, what kind of agent, doctor, official, profiler, whatever, makes promises before such an intricate process such as their work?

“So, did you get anything?” Rossi asked him, breaking him out of his reverie.

“Oh, yeah. Those two women said that the victims usually waited for clients in the park right down the street.” Emily said.

“I think we should go take a look.” Spencer suggested.

Searching the park, which was full of passersby and families just spending some time outside their houses, Spencer couldn’t shake the feeling that this case had already hit him too close to home. The violence was something that still messed with his head and he thought he could never recover from the flashes of memories behind his eyelids once he closed his eyes to sleep every night. Still, it wasn’t that that baffled him the most, but you. He knew what it was like to struggle with addiction. He had been very harsh on Emily not long ago, during a withdrawal, so he knew aggressiveness and mood swings were to be expected. You and your mannerisms, however, were totally out of the addiction bingo. The way you looked, so broken, so sick, in every sense of the word, didn’t stop you from having a polite conversation with them, even if the topic was very much concerning to you. Plus, the caring nature you seemed to have and the way you made sure to be supportive towards you and the others who, just like you, went through hell every day for the most unspeakable reasons stood out to him.

It was intriguing, to say the least.

“Hey, I got something.” Morgan said as he approached the team with a piece of paper. “It says: They will not do it again.”

“Who’s they?” Rossi inquired.

“Maybe the prostitutes. The only way of stopping them is killing them.” Spencer answered, albeit his thoughts were still far, far away from the scene.

“But stop them from doing what? Causing a divorce? Being a homewrecker? Polluting the city?” She wondered out loud.

“These are all valid possibilities,” Rossi nodded, “we now know from your interview that rich men are regulars here. Maybe one of them was unfaithful and snapped after getting his divorce. Now, he might be taking it out on these girls.” He finished.

“We still need to figure that out.” Morgan sighed. “Hey, babygirl, we need a favor,” Derek said once Penelope picked up his call. “Can you check every upper-class man in Richmond that has recently gotten a divorce?”

“Sure thing, handsome,” she quipped, “it might take some time, though. And I know you’ll need to narrow it down.”

“We’ll keep you posted. Thanks, babygirl.”

“Always happy to help, hot stuff.”

—

Back at the station, the BAU team was surrounded by cops, sharing their findings so far. Spencer was the one to make sure that the cops would be on duty and laser focused on the areas he determined through the geographical profile. Those areas were most likely the ones the next attack would take place. He emphasized, very intently, that they needed cops especially in darker alleys and that they were looking for a male in his thirties. 

Spencer couldn't shake the thought of dread that crept up on him, making him almost paralyzed. The fear of getting to the unsub, of letting him get away, of being too late, of being too early, of not being enough. Every scenario was the worst, his mind working overtime to make sure he had at least an ounce of optimism for months on end, ever since he finally managed to stay clean off Dilaudid. The cops moved around, divided between groups to start surveillance. And the dread kept building inside of him, like a crescendo of horror.

Sitting next to Emily, he decided to break the morbid silence hanging over them. “I'm sorry I lashed out on you, Emily. I don't think I ever apologized.”

Totally not expecting his words, she looked at him, wide-eyed. It took her a second to gather her thoughts and form an answer. “It's no problem. I know what you were going through.”

“Still. It doesn't change much. It's not a good enough excuse for me to treat others poorly.” He couldn't look at her, fiddling with his fingers instead.

“Reid, why do I sense you're talking about something else?”

He sighed. He was so, so tired of keeping it in, of bottling everything in, of swallowing his words so as to not make anyone uncomfortable. “I am.” He confessed, after a moment of silence.

Maybe staying quiet was less morbid than the conversation they were about to have, he mused.

“What happened?”

“That girl, today. The second one. I could tell she's having issues. The same as me, I mean. And she was so nice the entire time. She was trying to make her friend feel better.”

“Spencer…” Emily breathed out, a somewhat reprimanding look on her face. Not that he could see it. “This comparison is unfair on so many levels. First, you've seen her for what? Five minutes? We don't know what she's been through, if she has a family… There are so many possibilities. Maybe she was having a good day—”

“How does one have a good day knowing that they have very high chances of being killed?” He interrupted. A sigh left Emily's lips.

“I don't know. But you do understand why that comparison you made was unfitting, to say the least, right?” 

Right on cue, to make the subject die, he muttered a “I guess.” so she could drop the subject. From afar, Spencer watched as you left a building with a glare on your face. He wondered what you were feeling and if your expression always told you off.

“There she is. Not looking happy.” Emily said, simply, not relating it to the use of any substances out of respect. She could only imagine what he was going through, being forced to watch someone she loves slowly lose themselves over something so trivial, but at the same time, dangerous as a substance.

Spencer pressed his lips on a thin line.

—

You laid there, on a big, albeit uncomfortable bed, simply enduring the sloppy, much erratic thrusts of a man who was old enough to be your dad. Grandfather, if you pushed it a little bit. Internally, you chuckled bitterly at the thought, because those two decided to want distance from you a long, long time ago. You had turned out into a person who many people didn't want to be associated with, so you kind of understood their attitude towards you. Still, it didn't make navigating through this world all by yourself any easier. In fact, it stung harder than you cared to admit, but, for the most part of the time, you were as high as a kite — your coping mechanism to shield your brain for reminiscing about the disgusting, vile man that you had to... satisfy to avoid starving to death. It was a never ending cycle. A torturous one that you wouldn't wish upon your worst enemy.

Speaking of which, the man above you came on your stomach, meaning that the appointment had finally reached its end. You couldn't quite pinpoint if he was the first, second or even third man you've encountered that night, but you didn't care. The effects of the dope made sure you wouldn't remember them the next day. Actually, it had been a while since you had been exposed to daylight. Your routine consisted of being around all night with those men, getting home, scrubbing your skin hard enough to draw blood as you showered, trying to get rid of the feeling of the greedy, disgusting hands all over your body, sleeping all day, getting high and repeating it all over again. Some nights you didn’t have too much strength to do it all. Some days felt like they mashed together with how long it felt with the same ache, the same hole in your chest. Your life was miserable, and you often caught yourself thinking if it was worth it. And, if it was, what for?

"You're so good, princess, kept quiet all the time and shit." The man said as he pulled his shirt back on, covering his thin frame. You cleaned yourself the best you could with a washcloth. "You’re fairly pretty… If you weren't a junkie, I might take you home with me... keep you all to myself, you know?" He inquired, a smirk dancing around his features.

You didn't dignify him with an answer. Instead, you glared at him, even though he couldn't see your face, grabbed the money that had been placed in the nightstand and made a beeline to the door.

You stared at that money with burning rage. If you didn't need it so much, you would definitely tear it apart given the hatred coursing through your veins. You gulped, and it tasted bitter, and it was hard to swallow the lump in your throat. You sold yourself for something as ordinary as money, and it made you so angry because your family was swimming in it. Sometimes, you wished they would drown in it, just to see if your anger simmered down.

You weren't always like this, so... so rotten. Coming from a rich, traditional family, people expected highly from you all the time, thus, you had been an excellent, straight A's student, being the valedictorian of your class at a traditional Catholic school without your teachers needing to double check any records. You also volunteered halftime in an institute that helped old people, which made your parents immensely proud. At that time, you had gotten yourself a boyfriend, your high-school sweetheart, getting engaged to him as you started your third year at a great university, majoring in Psychology. It all went down, though, when you started struggling with addiction.

It started with lighter substances, like alcohol. You drank until you started mumbling out the words you meant to say, going even as far as embarrassing yourself and your fiancée multiple times at social gatherings that involved booze. You loved the thrill, the buzz, the lightness it made you feel, instead of the pile of anxiety that built and seeped into your very bones after being so pushed to the edge your entire life. You thought you liked your life, but after being in touch with people who had a much (what you considered to be) easier life than yours, you started to let loose. Since you didn't have any family around you to put you on a tight leash, you lost control altogether.

When your family realized what had happened, too engrossed in their own businesses and investments and money and anything that was more important than their offsprings, it was too late. You couldn't go a day without drinking, dropping out of schoolcALT without thinking about the consequences for your future. Ironically, you knew and understood pretty well the things you were going through, but battling an addiction requires a lot of strength that you didn't know where to find, since you were all alone. After all, you had pushed all your friends away, your fiancée had walked out on you and your family basically disowned you.

Left to your own devices and unable to keep a steady, serious job, despite your background, you found yourself in the streets.

Sigh.

Opening the door to your small apartment, you got rid of the clothes that began to reek of alcohol, throwing them mindlessly on the floor. You rushed to the bathroom and stared at your own reflection for a moment, noticing the dark spots under your eyes, your dry lips and the lifeless gaze that your eyes had turned into. You had lost quite a bit of weight, now looking like a dead skull, wandering around, doomed to search for any reason to continue living in a world that had been pitch black.

In the bathtub, you scratched your skin aggressively, not being able to avoid the feeling of the remnants of several unknown men, which sensation brought up the comparison that you felt similar to a person who suffers with phantom limb pain: you couldn't see their hands, you couldn't come up with anyone's face, but you couldn't avoid sensing their touch on your skin. But, unlike the syndrome, you didn't feel pain, feeling rather like needles were seeping into your skin, deep enough to reach your bones. But, like the syndrome, it felt like it was yours. Their touch, although invisible, was forever inked into your skin.

You couldn't help the tears running down your face, mixing themselves with the water that poured from the shower. Tears of both pain, disgust, desperation, regret. It was a whirlwind of emotions that you couldn't deal with. As you left the bathroom, you downed half a bottle of vodka, hoping that it would lull you to sleep.

Maybe for good this time.

—

A loud banging on your door roused you from sleep. Your mouth felt dry and your skin felt even worse — it felt like it had been days since you last drank water. Maybe it was true. The loud noise made your head throb in pain. Curled in bed, you tried to muffle the sounds by covering your ears with your hands, but it was just as annoying. The person on the other side of the door seemed hell-bent on seeing you, but you couldn't come up with anyone other than your landlord, because your rent was supposed to be paid yesterday.

Getting up from your bed with a groan of annoyance and pain, you threw on a flannel you found on the floor. Opening the door, you were surprised to see your older brother.

"Y-you?" You asked, baffled. Embarrassed by your own appearance.

"It's me." He said, the usual serious edge to his voice. He said your name, hesitantly. "Can I come in?"

You didn't know what he wanted. The fact that you had been left alone for so long made your heart burn with anger and you wanted to slam the door in his face. You considered it for a moment, but it wouldn't take a genius to know that you needed someone with you, even if for just a couple of minutes, even if it was out of pity. You didn't mind. You relied on the kindness of people to get by, so what harm would it be in accepting a little more pity? More self loathing than you already had and constantly feeded inside you? You judged it impossible.

With a curt nod, you gave him space to enter your apartment. The place was a mess, clothes scattered around, curtains drawn closed, the darkness in the room not only caused by the absence of sunlight. Something somber stopped light from entering. Your brother looked around with an unreadable expression and saw the countless bottles everywhere, from the floor to the couch, not to mention the many white remains on the surfaces like the small coffee table. He blinked away tears, desolate to see you in that position. Desperate to find words. Desperate to find you again in that vessel of a human you had become.

Clearing his throat, “I… heard what's happening. I was worried so I came all the way here to check on you.”

You bit back a bitter laughter. How could someone be this cruel? Abandon you and then treat you like you mattered? It made you almost want to throw up. “I'm alive. Happy?” You couldn't help the snarky remark.

“Come on, you know I'm not like them.” He defended, not able to look you in the eye.

You took a deep, shaky breath, trying to keep your emotions at bay. “If you weren't, you wouldn't have left me, too.”

“Come on, I was going through my own shit, I didn't realize what you were going through until it was too late.”

“Too late? Too late? I spent all my days wishing any of you would pick up the damn phone so that someone could come and get me before I was dead. But you're all the same. So self absorbed, so selfish, so… individualistic.” Your words were daggers, but you couldn't stop yourself from being mean, from trying to push away the only person who seemingly had an interest in helping you. Too bad you felt it was a little too late.

“Don't say that.”

At this point, the verbal vomiting was unstoppable. You sure looked like a maniac, rambling and jumping inconsistently from one topic to another, aiming to hurt him as much as they have hurt you, too. You knew what you were doing, but it felt for a moment that something else was forcing such cruelness out of your mouth. “The final blow was grandma dying, right? So you could finally pretend I don't exist. Keep doing that.”

“Let me help you.” He pleaded, coming close to you.

“I don't need your help.”

“If you don't accept it now, you're gonna spend more time wishing you had.” He said, holding your hands with his own.

“How are you going to help me? By sending me money so that I spend it all on drugs? On booze? Hah, nice one, really.”

“I wouldn't help you kill yourself.” He almost shouted, rage and sadness fighting over which would be the dominant feeling in his eyes.

“Then how? I basically just told you I'm helpless. I'm a ghost. I stopped existing a long time ago.” A sob broke through you, echoing in the walls of your dark apartment. You shut your eyes. “I don't know who I am anymore.”

Silence.

He's probably thinking everything through. Trying to find a way to let me down gently, you thought. “Let me take you somewhere safe. We'll see how it goes.”

You didn't expect that much. Despite wanting to say yes, your mouth was seemingly disconnected from your brain, so your words took a whole different turn. Instead of accepting his help, you simply stated, “I don't think I would stand to let you down again. I'm sorry.” He looks at you, bewildered, but, to you, not strong enough to put up a fight. “Can you please leave? I'm waiting for a friend.”

Defeated, he walks out the door. 

You don't notice the paper with his number left on the kitchen counter. When Renée shows up, dressed in a skin-tight red dress, she sees and runs her finger on the note as if it could save her from every single risk her life could show her. 

—

"We found another body."

Amidst the research and data analysis required to provide the profile, Spencer Reid got easily lost on his obligations and far too focused on his duties in order to help people as fast as he could, which was why he was seemingly terrified of one of the local officer's voice. 

At the crime scene, the found body was once Renée Woods. Spencer watched from afar as the coroner  examined their body and as Derek and Emily searched frantically for anything they could do to help, whether it was examining the crime scene or simply talking to the assigned legists. Spencer, unlike them, stood still. Muscles unable to make any movements besides clenching his hands in fists so tight that his somewhat long nails almost cut through the sensitive skin.

How would you take the news?

What if that was you?

The thought went as quickly as it came, because, from afar, he watched as you showed up, looking skeptical, but soon becoming hysterical once you recognized her, even from a certain distance. You could tell it was her by the clothes she was wearing. You cried hysterically, screaming as if someone had torn apart your heart with their bare hands, sobbing as if you couldn't breathe unless Renée was walking the Earth. A cop touching you, instead of soothing your turmoil, only served as a fuel to the fire raging through you. Sadness, anger, desperation, panic, everything flooding your chest, ragging your breath. You pushed the man away, trying to find a way to enter the crime scene.

Spencer finally was taking control of his body again. Approaching you, calmly, as if you would attack him too if he got too close and too abruptly, or worse, you’d run away, he made his way to you. Noticing your red-rimmed eyes, he took a deep breath. “I’m sorry.”

“You said you’d do your best,” you said in a broken voice, looking him in the eye. Defeated.

Silence. All the noise seemed dull, distant, far away. You were in a bubble.

“I’m sorry,” you blurted out, wide eyes looking at his confused ones. Right now, talking to you felt like whiplash. “I know it wasn’t your fault. I didn’t mean to accuse or blame you. Fuck,” you cursed, bringing your hands to your eyes. “Can I do anything to help? I can… I can try.”

Unbeknownst to you, Emily Prentiss watched your interactions with a puzzled look on her face. You looked and acted so distraught that she felt the need to approach, mindful of the damage the words from an enraged, saddened close friend of a victim would do. Unable to stop her own feet, she approached you. Spencer wouldn't utter a word. You looked nervous, looking from her to him and obsessively trying to wipe your tears that seemingly had their own will to run on your face.

"Can you come with me?" She offered, handing out a blanket for you. You looked at her and amidst the mixed feelings that the grief started etching into your eyes, you could give her a grateful glance.

By her side, you looked at Spencer, who was still frozen in place.

"I'm sorry..." You whispered, looking at the ground.  

He looked straight ahead. Once you were with Emily, he glanced your way with a pitiful look on his face.

—

Days passed. You were in the precinct once they called Renée’s family to break the morbid news. You watched as her mother fell to her knees once one of them told her what had happened to her daughter. You heard the chanting of "I failed, I failed, I failed..." endlessly. And by endlessly, you mean it is still haunting you to this day.

For three days, all you did was escape reality, whether by sleeping or doing drugs. Your brother's contact sat still on the kitchen counter, collecting dust and meaning hesitation from your end.

On the fourth day, you were sober for a couple of hours. You opened the curtains and despite the darkness still loomed around, it felt better. It burned, but in a nice way. As you stared at the note in the counter, untouched, Emily Prentiss knocked on your door to let you know that they were close to catching the killer. His profile was complete, it seemed. Something about a man in his 40s taking out the frustration of his parents’ broken marriage because of his father’s infidelity and his own divorce because of his affairs. Cyclic. Looking at your wrecked state, she told you all about him.

"Why are you telling me this?" You asked as Renée’s mother chant still echoed in your mind.

"First, I thought you needed hope. Second, I was thinking you might recognize him.”

Needless to say, she was right. Your lungs burned at each breath you took, and, in that moment, you decided you would try to be strong. Stronger. Renée’s face came to mind. You had nothing left to lose if you exposed a few rich men. Thanking Emily, you said softly, your tone contrasting with the vile nature of your words, “You said he dumped the girls in a specific place, right?” She nodded. “I don’t know if anyone told you about this one place, but they take some of the girls there. It’s kind of off-radar” 

As you gave her the location, her surprise betrayed her usual composure. “No, nobody did.”

“Do you think it could be helpful?”

—

You found yourself in one of aforementioned building’s room along with Dr. Spencer Reid, as sort of your protector, while the others patrolled the building and the people who came and went, and the local cops lurked around downtown, in the park. You felt nervous, reminiscing about your last interaction with the man. Taking a deep breath, you sat down on a chair. “May I ask you something?” You inquired, carefully. He hadn’t talked much to you unless it was information about what you knew and what he needed to know. He nodded at you, turning his attention to your figure. "Do you like your job? I only ask because... you know... nobody really likes this job."

"... I do, yeah." He muttered, albeit not the whole truth. It was gruesome, but he thought he could manage. Besides, you didn’t need to be exposed to even more disaster. It was bad enough as it was.

"I don’t know if you know or acknowledge this, but not many people choose to do this. It's more of a last option, the one you really don't wanna take." You justified, even though you didn’t quite know why.

You supposed it was the embarrassment that came with being with a man who knew what you did but wasn’t with you to do that.

Understanding flooded his features, a soft "I understand." making its way out of his lips.

"Thanks." I say with a tight-lipped smile. "It means a lot."

He nodded. "You keep fiddling with your necklace."

"It's a locker, actually. It's a picture of me and my grandmother. I don't wear it when I'm.. um... Anyway, it's kinda sacred to me." You chuckled, gripping the accessory tighter. “I wore it today so that it would give me the strength needed to help Renée. And myself.”

He glances at you as if he wanted to know more. After a beat of silence and deciding that it was enough, "Do you have a good relationship with her?"

"I did. We were very close, but she passed away last year, sort of giving my family the free pass to cut me out entirely. I believe they think that I was the one who killed her, my life choices and whatnot."

He furrowed his brows. "You didn't choose this."

"In a way, I did. I knew what I was doing, I just couldn't stop. It's just that... It felt good not to have so much pressure on me, you know? I felt finally free... but what did it cost me? A safe relationship, my education, my family and friends… They never gave me a chance, not even to explain myself. I needed help. Thus far, I have had company my entire life. I didn't know how to exist. Then one of those girls helped me, but I realized that she was struggling to pay rent and I needed to do something, not just sit pretty and be high with the money I had left.”

His silence was unexpected.

In reality, it was caused by the cliché of watching your life passing before your eyes took over his mind. He remembered being drugged by Tobias Hankel, he remembered the needles puncturing his skin and the relief he felt from the entire situation once the substance started running through his veins. He remembered taking Dilaudid from his abductor’s pockets and he remembered staring at his own reflection in the mirror and finding a stranger looking back at him. He remembered being given a chip of sobriety even though he wasn’t sober for that long. He remembered thinking of himself as unworthy as he became more and more dependent, especially when he couldn’t even disguise how affected, how it changed him. Looking at your defeated face, he muttered, “I understand. It changes your perception of things and yourself.”

You could act oblivious and assume that his knowledge of the topic came from books, but you don’t see that expression on just anybody’s face. You felt sorry for him. Sensing he didn’t want to talk about himself any further, even if, in your opinion, wasn’t nearly enough for someone who had battled something as deep as an addiction, you decided to respect his wish. You talked about yourself instead, hoping to give him something, someone to relate to, as you desperately wanted for yourself. “I wasn’t always like this.”

“I’m sure you weren’t.” His voice held that tinge of something you couldn’t quite describe, something distant, but so close at the same time. He saw himself in you, almost if he was talking to himself.

He might have had Penelope check your background. Something about the lost potential resonated deep within him, and it made him all the more anxious to be close to you, to repair something he hadn’t been the one to break. As he looked at you, all he could see was someone in dire need of something, someone to grasp onto. “How does one manage to move past all that?"

Despite the will growing and boiling inside of him, he couldn’t just come up with a magic solution to cut through the darkness surrounding you. "Honestly, I don't know." You couldn’t see when he gulped.

"It's a long way from home. At least, for me."

For a moment, you looked at each other, mouths shut, not a single beat of sound around you. You looked at him, searching for answers and for someone to relate to. Spencer hesitated for a moment, the silence hanging over you like a fog. He wasn't trying to seem disinterested or unkind, but he felt as if his curt phrases weren’t enough to calm your heart. He spoke again, his voice softer, offering a hint of deeper sincerity, "Sorry, I..." he trailed off, unsure how to convey his thoughts without making the situation more hurtful. "I'm sure you can manage it with the right people."

Your grip on your locket softened, letting it fall close to your chest once you let it go. Looking at him, a soft melody started playing in your head.

Patience.

“I’m sorry,” you said, earnestly, which made him look at you with recognition. “Thanks for talking to me. It’s been a while.” 

I missed this feeling.

—

After a few moments, the BAU team had captured the man before he could collect another soul. Everything happened so fast. In one moment, you were in a superficially verbal conversation with Spencer. Despite the shallow nature of the words exchanged, digging deeper, the interaction was filled to the brim with meaning, which made you rethink a thing or two. You shared that much with him.

“Goodbye.” He said, simply. To you, he was not one to speak much. “You’ll be home by spring.” I can’t wait ‘til then, he thought.

“Goodbye, doctor.”

Next thing you knew, as you got home, all by yourself, you decided to reach out for your brother. Telling him you needed help, that you were pessimistic but that it would be foolish not to at least try.

Days at rehab went on as smoothly as they could, considering you were suffering with withdrawal. Your behavior and emotions swayed like waves on a lake surface on a windy day. Deeply unstable, your mind was forced to remember all the hell you’ve been through on a daily basis for the last sad months of your life. Grieving for the version of you you could have been, for Renée, for your sense of self, self-respect and whatever you had lost during those dark times. Often, your hands trembled, you felt cold in a warm, cozy room and there were times your skin felt ablaze, not to mention the whirlwind of thoughts that made your head hurt. You missed feeling numb.

And when I was shipwrecked, I thought of you.

Still, there were afternoons that you would sit on the porch of your bedroom and simply take in the surroundings. The green grass that was taken better off by the employees like it was someone’s first born. The other patients who walked around and closed their eyes as they felt the sun kissing their skin for what it felt like the first time in years. The trees that casted shadows on the grass so that some of them could lay beneath them. The breeze that engulfed your figure and gently touched you, unlike you had been treated. The immense sense of belonging to this existence, of not longer being a stranger to your own life. You would take deep breaths and your lungs wouldn’t ache like before. You pictured the two reasons responsible for making you take the decision that brought you to this place sitting next to you. You held what was left of one of them between your fingertips.

The sudden and constant mood swings made your attitude change at breakneck speed.

Tonight, taking a quick break from the notebook you were scribbling on, you took a look around you. At that moment, everything around you was spinning. You couldn’t breathe, feeling as if the hands that touched you in the past stopped you from inhaling oxygen altogether. You shut your eyes closed and tried to breathe in like the doctors had told you to when things got too hard — it was not working. Panicking further, you stumbled your way to the ensuite bathroom and took a good look at your reflection. You felt shivers running down your body, an uncomfortable feeling sitting in the pit of your stomach as you desperately tried to turn on the faucet to splash some cold water to your face. Unsuccessful, to say the least.

The feeling grew as time went by. You couldn’t stand the discomfort and the memories and the feeling of being inappropriate to go back to living in the real world again. For a moment, you quieted your struggle. You gave in. You glanced at the mirror and although the tears blurred your vision, you were able to wonder if that was your opportunity of finally having the control of your life back. Maybe it was for the better, you thought as you reached for the small blade you secretly kept on the bathroom window. As you started feeling dizzy by the lack of oxygen, you couldn’t help but to think back to the interaction you exchanged with Spencer before you thought of accepting your brother’s offer. Picturing his face, of himself as a person and as a professional, you thought that, for a moment, he was a reflection of all that you wanted to be, all you wanted for yourself.

The blood that gushed from the open cuts of your arms, that drained from your body, felt like the catharsis you needed from all the mishaps that had taken place in your life. As you watched it dribble down your skin and as it stained the floor, you took a deep, difficult breath, feeling lightheaded. No thoughts swarmed your mind anymore. A sob, from both the dull sting of the cuts and of your difficulty breathing, echoed through the bathroom.

No!, you thought you heard a familiar voice scream.

In the cracks of light, I dreamed of you.

Finally taking short puffs of breaths, you kept thinking this was it. That it was for the better. That nothing could save you, nothing could stop the blood from cleansing you and taint the floor in the process. You finally shut your eyes as the tears never ceased to flow from your eyes, feeling hands squeezing your arms where you had drawn vertical lines with the blades. From that moment, everything around you felt mixed, the swaying of a vehicle, the alarmed voices, the brightness behind your eyelids. You never opened your eyes. You couldn't bear to open them and still be here, facing the people who were doing their best to help you.

As you lost consciousness, you finally found peace, your mind finally quieted down, the hands stopped touching your body. You thought you managed a weakened smile in your state.

;

Spencer, much like you, didn't keep much track of the time as it passed, for the things in his world happened too fast and burned too bright. As he approached his desk in the bullpen and he was reading through some emails, dread adorning his features and panic setting in the pit of his stomach as he read your brother's name on the screen — whose contact he had gotten after you were admitted in rehab — and the news he was sharing.

;

You didn't know how much time you had spent unconscious. You didn't have any dreams. You didn't have any thoughts. You were completely numb, as if you were surrounded by a bubble that protected you from anything that could possibly happen.

As you opened your eyes, you recognized a hospital room, wires and needles and the unmistakable smell of that place. Looking at your arms, you noticed the bandages that hid the scars that were certainly forming by now, if the dull ache was anything to go by. When you slowly felt reality creeping in, you didn't dare to look up, afraid to find a judgmental or angry look on someone's face. You focused solely on breathing, too frightened of your surroundings.

You gulped and your throat felt so dry that it almost scratched, which made you erupt in a fit of coughs. That drew the attention of a person sitting right next to you, which you hadn't noticed, too preoccupied with someone's reaction.

Slowly looking up, you found Dr. Reid’s face. You couldn't quite begin to read his expression, as his eyes were full of relief once he saw you were still alive. Hanging by a thread, but still alive. You didn't bother to speak after he silently held a bottle of water with a straw on it for you to drink. Neither did he. At least for some amount of time.

“I didn't know how bad this could get. I mean, I do know, but not because of the reason you probably think. It's not just because I have to study human behavior, but also because I was abducted and drugged,” he started, losing the bravery that it took to look you in the eye. “I know you have nothing to do with this. And that it makes me sound very selfish, because, um, I'm here talking about myself when you are so fragile and so broken, but it's just because I know what you're going through. I know what it's like to not recognize yourself. When we talked in that room, for the first time, I felt alive. I felt seen. I felt like I had finally found a little, small, fleeting piece of myself that had wandered too far once I was… addicted.”

You just took in his words. You already knew why he related to you so much, but hearing him talk so freely and unabashedly about his experience made you somewhat perk up. “I'm in a lot of trouble, aren't I?” You managed to mutter in a weak voice.

“It depends on what you think you're going to do now.” 

“It's a lot of work.”

“Not if it's you.”

“How could you possibly say that?”

“I know a little about your background. My friend looked you up. You looked promising.”

“Yes, past tense. Now I'm just this… vessel of a human. I don't think I have blood, let alone the guts to face the world after this.”

“I'm not calculating your worth on your accomplishments or on the person you used to be.” He sighed, softly.

“Do I even still have worth?”

“Of course you do.”

“Don't waste your breath on me. How could you be so sure?”

“I just do.”

Little did you know, Spencer Reid was not one to pry where it wasn't welcome, but he spent every day letting his mind run to you. He couldn't help but think about you and whether you were actually doing good after the decision you decided to share with him. That was how he found himself having some unsent letters that were soon ripped and thrown away. Telling you about him, wondering about you, wondering if you two could relate on different topics.

“Would it be weird to ask you to trust me on this one?”

“What's the worst that could happen?”

For the first time in years, you had a sincere smile on your face. 

—

The next day, you woke up to a letter addressed to you, which you knew who it was from. 

Your lifeline.

This pain wouldn’t be for evermore.

☆

Part 2

[tinesleftnipple]

JITD is headed towards subtextual romance line between Luo Wenzhou and Pei su

(if not more)

The adaptation up to ep 8 has stayed true to modu as much as they are able to - at this rate a romance subplot is inevitable.

In modu, lwz and fei du start off as "rivals" that both like tao ran. In JITD, that has shifted - pei su puts more attention on lwz from the very beginning.

Pei su zooms in on lwz and not tao ze

Pei su folding parking fines into little boats (the "zhou" in "luo wenzhou" means boat)

In ep 3 cafeteria scene, the core of pei su's speech about change is him hinting to lwz that he yearns for a sense of security/stability. Pei su knows the only constant in this world is "change", but he's talked to his therapist about it. The end of this scene is very telling:

The only constant left in Pei su's world is lwz.

From a story structure pov, a 30-ep show can be split into 5 sections where every 6 episodes marks a turning point (throwback to Word of Honor where every 6 episodes had a romantic scene) . We see the first turning point in ep 6. The first case is complete, and at the same time the leads resolve their misunderstandings.

Modu is split into 5 parts. Zhoudu's relationship progresses at the end of each section. JITD should on some level parallel this progression:

Julien - misunderstandings absolved

Humbert Humbert - flirting

Macbeth - lwz confesses

Verkhovensky - feidu confesses

Edmond Dantes - your honor they love each other

[whoopsyeahokay]

October Moon

summary: So, Claire had been working with Mr. Anderson, you and Xavier hadn't been speaking, the Homecoming dance had been on the horizon, and no one had been any closer to getting answers. But, hell, you and Wally had made progress in...other ways.

pairing: Wally Clark x fem!reader

warnings: smutty smut smut. mad spoilers. and obvious Canon divergence. very involved, very dense plot.

bon reading, frens

___________________________💀

OCTOBER MOON pt.1

Aurora chatted merrily at you as she drove you to school, the sun shining and the radio playing upbeat Top 40 hits between the DJs' too-cheerful morning banter. You weren't listening, had too many things on your mind to pay attention to what was outside of your skull, and stared blindly out the window.

The stink of Aurora's tea was suffocating. You'd drank the same tea for years, had smelled it every day in the kitchen, yet now you couldn't stand it. Especially after having smelled something so similar on the breath of those sacrifices.

It'd been a week since the theater. Since Aiden had somehow forced everyone through the farmhouse door to show them—you—the truth of what'd happened to him. You hadn't shared what you now knew with anyone in your family, too afraid of being asked questions that would lead Ginny or your mother to your involvement with Wally and the other ghosts.

You'd considered only sharing what you knew about Maddie, but had quashed that rather swiftly. That would've led to the same kind of trouble. Possibly worse since the threats in Maddie's case were corporal and could actually hurt you.

While Mr. Anderson was no longer a threat (had probably never been a threat), Claire had taken his place. Simon and Maddie spent the past week stalking her around school to see if they could figure out how she tied into Maddie's missing body.

Although you'd put together that the symbols surrounding the school were related to the Something-Something of Dagda—officially named The Emerald Order—you didn't have enough evidence (that was: none) that Maddie's ghostliness wasn't more than what had been responsible for shining a light on what was wrong with Split River High's metaphysical world.

While Simon and Maddie had been tracking Claire, you and Wally had taken to the computer lab most days after school to research the history of the town. It wasn't where you'd wanted to start, but you had little else to go on where the Something-Something, Amelia, and Anabelle were concerned.

Figuring any information was better than none, you'd tried to piece together what could've been related to the Something-Something's movements throughout history with what Wally had learned about the cult during the Satanic Panic.

A meathead jock that ghost was not. His mind was still sharp and the knowledge he'd accumulated back then had flowed out of him as if he'd read about it that morning. God, he was hot when he was spouting facts about an evil society of occult abusers.

Between handsy makeouts that'd been entirely Wally's fault, you and he had discovered that Split River had once been a colonial town, named something completely different. The school stood where one of the first churches in Wisconsin had been erected. Wood and plaster and starving pilgrims for a congregation. The old town had succumbed to a horrible fate, because of course it had, and then fast forward through another questionable event and, bingo bango, the school was built.

Coincidence? You and Wally hadn't thought so. And though you couldn't say for certain that the symbols had been there on Christmas Eve 1784, the event itself fit the Something-Something's modus operandi.

You would've convinced yourself that the symbols were all that remained of the Something-Something. Nothing in your research at home or the research you did with Wally suggested the cult was still operational.

Except. Follow the lines, Christopher Nears had instructed Wally who'd then relayed the order to you. You'd tried that and the results had been less than fruitful. You'd found the basics. Places of birth, marriage certificates. Death dates. September 23rd, 1925. How could you follow the lines if the lines had continuously changed?

Amelia and Anabelle had literally turned into new people and you had absolutely no idea what identities they'd slipped into after they'd reentered the world as teenage girls.

If it hadn't been for the fact that you remembered hearing Amelia's named when Aiden had been killed, you wouldn't believe the presence of the strikingly high population of ghosts within the school were related or something to worry about. Just an unfortunate accident due to bygone ceremonial procedure that hadn't been tidied up in the aftermath.

Unfortunately, however, you and Wally and everyone else agreed, Amelia or Anabelle or their successors were out there and likely had plans for Split River High's dead...

Apparently, your silence had become too much for Aurora who'd turned the radio off to ask, "Are you okay? You haven't said a word all morning."

As the car turned into the school parking lot, you still weren't fully aware, the stink of Aurora's tea trickling into the crevices of your brain and making you drowsy.

"Hey, are you listening?" Aurora waved a hand in front of your face.

Finally, you blinked, shook your head slightly and looked at her, "What?"

Aurora pulled into the drop-off zone, put the car in park, and shifted to face you. "Are you and Xavier still fighting?"

Yes.

And no.

Band practice on Saturday had been tense and awkward, but you and Xavier had made it through without Hana or Lucas or Eli commenting on it. Of course, they'd probably been pretending with everything in them that nothing was wrong for the sake of tomorrow's performance.

Whatever. You hadn't had to spin another yarn and Xavier hadn't had to confess to cheating on Maddie to your face, so win-win.

Neither of you had even attempted to speak since, barely making eye contact when you happened to be in the same space. Mathilda had informed you that Xavier had been spending his free time with Sandra Nears, which had caught you off-guard, because what? Why?

"Sort of," You finally said, tilting your head back against your seat and closing your eyes. "We're not fighting but we're not talking," you summed up as you rolled your head to the side to look at Aurora.

From the corner of your eye, you saw Ajay step tentatively up to the driver's side. Hands in his pockets, gaze soft, peering at Aurora like a long-lost friend.

And, as it had been yesterday when Aurora had driven you to school, she simply sniffed the air, frowned in thought, and then shooed you out of the car with a final statement. Today's was, "You guys will be fine. Things feel a lot bigger at your age than they are. Trust me."

"Thanks for the pep talk, Rory, you nailed it." You muttered, climbing out and giving Ajay an apologetic look. Part of you understood why Aurora wouldn't acknowledge that she sensed Ajay. The Golden Rule and a lifetime of family gospel.

But.

But...there was a twist in your gut as you watched her drive away, the stink of her tea clung to your hair and clothes after you'd had to sit in it for the fifteen-minute journey. Thankfully, yesterday you'd had a late start so Aurora had already finished her tea before getting in the car.

"She didn't say anything, did she?" Ajay asked when he came to stand beside you, solemn as he stared after the car.

You didn't reply for a moment, pondering it. "She probably doesn't want to risk it. Our family takes keeping secrets very seriously," you shrugged.

Ajay glimpsed down at you, "You mean like you kept your magic a secret from us?"

"Connectedness. And no. It's different." You said, head tilted as you really gave yourself a chance to think about recent events.

Why didn't anyone in your family talk about the ghosts? It wasn't as if the ghosts were around to listen (apart from Dead Grandpa John). There'd been some excuse made, like Dead Grandpa John might reveal your family's abilities to other ghosts and then, oh no, the house would be swarmed, stormed, squalled.

But. He wouldn't. Would he?

Up until Maddie's disappearance, that excuse had made sense to you, but now, in the wake of everything that you'd experienced, it didn't.

You sighed and rocked sideways, knocking your shoulder into Ajay's arm. "She remembers you," you assured him, grinning, "She brought home Bollywood Grill on Tuesday."

"That's not offensive," Ajay rolled his eyes though he snickered, clearly amused by the thought that Aurora's cravings were dictated by the smell she associated with him.

"I'm just saying, she obviously sensed you."

Ajay hummed, stood for a moment longer, and then, "It doesn't feel like it did," he conveyed. "The air is thicker around her." When you gave him a confused look, he shrugged, "I don't know how to explain it better than that."

"Fair enough," You supposed. "It's probably the smell of that tea clouding everything. I swear to God, it just takes over." You looked up at Ajay helplessly, "How did I ever like it?"

"I used to love black olives," Ajay said, "Now I can't stand them."

Skeptical, "You also suffered probably the biggest trauma known to mankind. I bet my tastebuds would change, too."

"Fair enough," Ajay parroted with a fond smile.

As you and Ajay turned toward the school, Simon jogged up to meet you, nodding his head cordially at Ajay before telling you, "I followed Claire home yesterday—"

"Terrifying."

"—and she stopped at Mr. Anderson's again. She waited outside his place for twenty minutes before she gave up. He never came out."

"Yeah, probably because he was with Andrew."

Your uncle had returned to town the same night Mr. Anderson had been arrested. Slept on the fold-out couch in the den now that his room in the basement was no longer available. He'd even helped post Mr. Anderson's bail.

You hung your head and confessed, "I feel kinda bad."

Simon's lips twisted and he sighed, admitting, "Me too." And then, "But the school's dropping the charges so long as he pays everything back, so that's good news, right?"

You hummed as you considered that, "I guess so. I just... I feel like we blew up someone's life for nothing, you know?"

"It wasn't for nothing." Ajay said, reminding you that, "If he hadn't been arrested, Simon would've handed him back his phone. You guys wouldn't have found out Claire was working with him. Or...doing whatever she's doing with him." He grimaced. "God, I hope it's not creepy."

"Same." You and Simon chorused.

"Where are you with the cult?" Simon asked you as he watched in fascination as a group of students made room for Ajay's presence without realizing that was what it was.

You snorted, "Buttfuck nowhere. I've been trying to find similar rune rituals in my family's library, but things like that are considered—"

"Black Magic." Ajay interjected.

"The Dark Arts." Simon supplied.

You rolled your eyes, "Forbidden. Guys. They're forbidden."

Ajay grinned, "Like Black Magic."

"And the Dark Arts." Simon added.

"I hate you both."

You and Simon parted ways at your lockers with a promise to catch up at lunch. Ajay lingered for a moment longer, mind as distant as his gaze.

"Still no sign of Mina?" You asked quietly.

Despite everyone assuring you that last Friday's events weren't your fault, you carried the guilt of it all the same. Those had been your memories, Aiden had been your brother. And if Mina, like the others, had been pulled through the door, it was possible she'd never come out. Or that she'd seen something so heinous, she'd gone into hiding.

"Not even a glimpse," Ajay reported, mouth weighed down at the corners, "I've looked everywhere...it's like she vanished."

"We'll find her."

Ajay pressed a tight smile to his lips and nodded in thanks, but you could tell that, as much as he wanted to, he didn't believe it. Eventually, he cleared his throat and changed the subject altogether, informing you, "Wally's outside. He's doing drills."

You chuckled, "Ah, yes, the big game's tonight."

"You'd better be there," Ajay warned with a slight glimmer in his eye, "He wants his girl to see him bring the Bandits to victory." For the last part, Ajay impersonated a hyped sports commentator and then a roaring crowd, shaking his fists in the air like he'd just won the Super Bowl.

You guaranteed, "I wouldn't miss it for the world," because you wouldn't.

A kid at Christmas, Wally had been amped since Monday, pulling you onto the field between research to show you how to toss the ball well enough for him to practice catching. It'd been fun, although you'd refused to admit it.

Every time you'd stubbornly announced, "Sports are sooo dumb," he'd read through you and had tackled you (gently, playfully) and tickled you until you'd submitted. Laying under him, giggling, before he'd stop, breathless, grinning, and gaze into your eyes, lean down, brush his lips to yours—

The fact was you were looking forward to it. To the game, to the celebration, to the dance; it would be a welcome reprieve from the rock and the hard place you'd been caught between.

"Tell him to be in the gym in half an hour," Ajay said as he gave you a quick side hug, dutifully checking to make sure the coast was clear. He then sauntered off to join his fellow Group members to prepare for Wally's big night.

‗‗‗‗•‗‗‗‗

Wally was halfway through a set of burpees when the connection between you and him exploded in his chest, causing him to almost fall flat on his face. Thankfully, he caught himself and snapped to his feet, wiped his forehead with a towel that he draped over his shoulder, and turned to watch you walk onto the field.

Fuck. You looked good. You always looked good, but today you looked particularly edible. Short skirt, curve-hugging top, hair tied up to show off the soft slope of your neck. He licked his lips and openly stared as your hips swayed with every step.

Wally was keyed up, he knew, because of the big game, but so much of it was also the time he'd finally been able to spend with you without constant interruptions and secrecy.

You and he had even had the chance to test your Traveling ghost on the barrier. How you'd tried to step across the invisible line only to wake up in your body on the school side. The reverse had garnered the same result. It'd been fun despite the outcome and Wally reveled in spending one-on-one time with you.

"Hey pretty girl," He said as you got close enough for him to hook his arm around your waist and yank you into him. His eyes went heavy and dark, his hand sliding down your back to the curve just above your ass, "You come to see me workout?"

You blushed so pretty, pink cheeked and Bambi eyed. "I came to tell you that you have thirty minutes before you gotta be in the gym," You replied, a sweet little smile on your lips that Wally wanted to bite. "You're getting your sweat all over me," You complained, scrunching your nose up at him.

Wally leaned in close, nipped your earlobe, his voice low and husky, "Don't pretend you don't like it, baby." His hand slipped lower to sneak under your skirt while his lips grazed the soft skin on your neck. He heard you gasp, your body arching into his, and he grinned victoriously.

"Don't start something you can't finish, Clark," You advised in a light, breezy tone, leaning back to look him in the eye. "I have class in ten minutes."

Wally pouted, "I don't even get a kiss?"

You laughed, head thrown back, beautiful, "Fine, one kiss, but then you'd better freshen up and make an appearance. I hear there's a banner you're responsible for."

"There is a banner," Wally agreed with pride. "And balloons." He narrowed his eyes in thought, "And I'm thinking of a crown of sparklers."

"Because that's safe," You scoffed playfully.

Wally shrugged, "Can't get more dead." And then he dipped his head and captured your lips with his, the connection between you like fireworks behind his ribs.

He kissed you until you and he were breathless, rested his forehead against yours, willing his body to cooperate and calm the fuck down otherwise he didn't know what he'd do.

Well, that was a lie. He totally did. He'd pin you to the grass and remind you of the effect you had on him. Twice.

"Fuck, baby," He murmured before he licked into your mouth and kissed you hungrily, hands gliding over your waist and hips and lower.

You broke the kiss with a whimper that went straight to his cock, petitioning, "Class. Test. Seven minutes." The connection flared as if it refused to believe that that was a good reason to stop things from progressing.

Unfortunately for the connection, Wally was raised a gentleman and offered, "I'll walk you to class, pretty girl," letting you go with a pinch to your ass cheek and a boyish grin.

"You wanna carry my books, too?"

"And see your teacher freak out when they appear out of thin air?" Wally chuckled, "Absolutely."

He didn't do that. He knew better than to mess with the status quo. But he still enjoyed the banter between you and him as he walked you to the third floor.

"You're coming tonight, right?" He asked just as you and he neared your math class.

You stopped and turned to him, "Of course I am. And, I have a surprise for you. So you have to meet me before you get on the field, big guy."

Wally perked up, "A surprise?" And then he recalled the surprise you'd brought him and Charley yesterday. "Is it Max's?" He asked, excited.

Max's Diner had been his favorite spot when he'd been alive. An old-school greasy spoon even in the '80s. Wally's parents had worked there when they'd been teenagers; it had been how they'd met. The diner held a special place in Wally's heart and he'd almost cried when you'd presented him with his go-to order: Double cheese burger, extra pickles, extra fries, and a large Coke.

"Not quite," You said with a wince, "but I think you'll like it just as much..."

"Then I can't wait, baby," Wally said, glancing up and down the hall before leaning in to press his lips to yours once more.

It was turning into an addiction. And since he was going to get caught up in game prep and might not see you for the remainder of the day, he took his time, impressing everything he felt into that kiss and smiling when he heard you release a pleasured sigh.

"You suck," You groused when he finally released you, "I'm going to fail and it'll be your fault."

Wally smirked, admittedly proud of himself, yet he maintained, "You'll be fine, you've got this. We went over everything three times yesterday and you got everything right."

God, there was that blush he was starting to love so much, "You are a good tutor. Even if you can be distracting."

"Get in there and kill it, baby," He encouraged, winked, watched as you disappeared into the classroom, and then he turned to head to the gym as instructed, fantasizing about what your surprise later could be.

However, as the connection between you and him dimmed, his senses flooded back in beyond how you felt and tasted and...smelled—he caught a whiff of something off-putting and familiar.

Pinching his shirt, he brought the fabric to his nose and sniffed.

Heady.

Floral.

Like licking soap.

Without a second thought, Wally spun around and rushed into the classroom. The teacher was already behind his desk correcting another class's tests, the room study hall hushed as everyone read over their test sheets. Wally hurried to the back of the class where you were sat, hunched over your sheet with the eraser end of your pencil between your teeth.

The connection between you and Wally prompted you to glance up before he even reached your seat. Your eyes widened when you saw him approach in a panic, but you otherwise remained still, as if nothing out of the ordinary was going on. He crouched beside your desk, gaze supplicating.

"Why do you smell like that?" Wally asked in a whisper though no one else could hear him.

He watched you surreptitiously sniff your hair, make a face of revulsion, and then write in the corner of your test sheet, Aurora's tea which you erased as soon as you knew Wally had read it.

Wally swallowed, nervous, and looked back at you, "I smelled that in the cellar the night Aiden died." He explained, "It was on your breath. And in one of the glass things I picked up."

You stared at him for a split second before taking a deep breath and raising your hand. Wally had no clue what you were thinking as you slid out of your desk, leaning most of your weight on your other hand that held the back of your chair.

"Mr. Davis?" You said, and Wally was shocked at how weak you sounded, like you were—oh. "Mr. Davis, I don't feel well, may I please be excused?"

Mr. Davis stood and scrutinized you, brow deeply furrowed, "Are you sure this can't wait?"

You shook your head, took one, two small steps and then, whoops, fell forward. Or, your body did. Your ghost remained upright, freaking out at Wally, "You're sure it was the same smell?"

Wally nodded, his eyes on your unconscious form on the floor. "Did that hurt?" He had to wonder, watching your curvy goth friend, Mathilda, hurdle over desks and demand everyone back the fuck up!

"Probably. I won't feel it until—"

And there you went, back into your body as soon as Mathilda's hands were on you to check you over. The class was in chaos, your classmates shifting and hovering over your limp form. Mr. Davis instructed someone to fetch the school nurse and three students took it upon themselves to do the honors.

By gentle degrees, your eyes fluttered open and you came to, looking for all the world like you'd genuinely fainted due to some unknown affliction. A sad Victorian child, pale and weak.

Oh, you were good, Wally mused, pressing his lips together to keep from laughing.

You sat up, blinked at Mathilda and then at Mr. Davis, and again asked to be excused. Nurse Laine dashed in and fussed over you for a moment until she discerned you could stand on your own two feet.

"No need to call an ambulance," she said when you'd answered a series of questions she'd posed. "Probably dehydration or stress."

To be on the safe side, Mr. Davis dismissed you. Mathilda seemed to think that meant you and her, but, thankfully—for the sake of the ghostly investigation—Mr. Davis told Mathilda to take her seat and concentrate on her test. You sent her a grateful look and a frail wave before stepping into the hall.

Wally accompanied you to the nurse's office where you were given a glass of water and orders to lay down on the sofa for ten minutes. He sat on the ground, back against the bottom of the sofa, shaking his head in amused disbelief.

"You just dropped like a sack of potatoes, baby, what were you thinking?"

Peeking out from beneath the cold compress Nurse Laine had handed you, you noticed she'd left the room to speak to someone in the hall.

Free to answer, you justified, "I was thinking that someone told me they smelled a gross tea I grew up drinking the night my little brother was killed by a woman wearing my friend's dad's body." You sat up to give Wally a significant look, "What else was I supposed to do without possibly failing that test?"

Wally conceded that that had been the best way to leave and avoid a bad grade or accusations of cheating.

"Next time, maybe don't do something that'll leave a bruise," Wally said softly, reaching up and brushing the backs of his fingers down your cheek where a red mark was blossoming into a bruise from the angle at which you'd hit the floor.

"No promises," You grinned.

Ten minutes later, Nurse Laine cleared you and gave you a note to give to the secretary to dismiss you for the rest of the day should you feel you needed it.

Wally wished you could use it just to spend that freedom with him instead, but you reminded him that Mr. Martin would be heavily involved in the rest of Wally's day and that might not go down so well.

Hey, Mr. M, this is one of now three living people who can see us that we lied to you about. Also we're investigating Maddie's not-death because, guess what, she's not dead.

Not that Xavier was talking to anybody (Wally didn't mind, he still hated the guy). Simon, on the other hand, was fun to talk to. A real bro with a quick mind and a dark sense of humor. Loyal as hell to Maddie which Wally appreciated. Xavier should've taken notes.

Regardless, Wally agreed, "Yeah, let's not do that."

He led you into an empty classroom where you and he could brainstorm what the hell that smell meant, if it meant anything, which...it had to, right? He was quickly learning everything was connected in some random way, no matter how absurd.

"You're sure it's the same smell?" You wanted to know, propped against the wall, thumbnail between your teeth.

Wally leaned in close and breathed in your hair, "Yeah, exactly the same. It smelled a lot stronger in the science glass than it does on you now, but it's identical." He confirmed.

A few beats as the gears turned in your head, "Aurora drinks that tea. And Nanna. Dave, too. And, honestly, I haven't noticed anything off about anyone. They're all still them. Not disoriented or drugged up or in a coma." You said, appearing to have trouble connecting the right dots. "I drank that tea for years."

"It could mean nothing," Wally rationalized, "Maybe there's an ingredient missing that was in the stuff I smelled versus what's in your family's tea, who knows."

He saw you process that and then admit, "When I was in that...memory or whatever, the kids Amelia and the others transferred into...they smelled kind of like it." Your gaze caught Wally's, brows knitted in worry, "It wasn't exactly the same but it was close enough. Really flowery. Like—"

"Licking soap?" Wally finished. "I don't wanna be that guy, but I have a feeling it's related."

"Fuck." You groaned, pressing your fingertips into your eyes. "Do we think the cult's back and selling rancid, probably-poisonous tea?" To, what, fund their next big scheme? ... Possibly.

Stepping into your space, Wally took your hands in his and lowered them, kissing your forehead before resting his against it. "It's worth looking in to. Think you can ask who your family's tea dealer is?"

"Yeah. I'll ask Nanna later," You murmured and Wally could tell you were overwhelmed. "Do you remember any of the ingredients you saw on the shelf?"

"Yeah, a lot of them." He leaned back and searched your expression. "Want me to write them down for you?"

You nodded, "Yes please."

With a gentle smile and soft eyes, "I got you, babygirl," Wally assured. "I'll give it to Maddie to give to you." At your adorably lost face, Wally said, "Like you said, Mr. Martin is gonna be heading my hype committee and will probably want me around for my input all day. Maddie, on the other hand, has a habit of disappearing at random."

You chuckled, "Gotchya," and drew Wally into a short, but very hot kiss. One that got Wally's everything running. He moaned against your lips, hands trailing down your hips to your thighs then under your skirt, pressing you more firmly against him.

"You gotta stop doing that," He said with a heavy exhale.

"Doing what?"

Wally nipped your lower lip, flicked his tongue to soothe the sting and kissed you dirty and deep before telling you, "Making my goddamn brain melt."

You giggled and told him in no uncertain terms, "Definitely no promises..."

‗‗‗‗•‗‗‗‗

Derek wasn't prepared for how his day was unfolding. Thank fuck for Darcy Behr and her cosmic timing, because he didn't think he could handle his father's bad mood for another second.

The man might've earned his sobriety chip, but two relapses later and yielding to old age, Douglas Anderson now suffered for his sins. Wet brain, they called it. A kind of dementia that could've been prevented.

Douglas had fits, tantrums, ranted about experiences he'd never had when he mistook the movies he watched for memories he'd lived. He wasn't a bad man. No, really, Douglas had never been a violent or aggressive drunk. Happy and friendly. Just neglectful because he truly didn't understand how his actions affected his wife or son.

Now, personality corroded by years of alcohol abuse, and Douglas did one-eighties at the drop of a hat. They didn't last and could be easy to ignore, but sometimes Derek was in juuust the wrong headspace, and, kaboom; he needed to get the fuck out of the house lest he did something he'd regret.

Today, Darcy had appeared like the answer to a prayer, had rung the doorbell seconds before Derek would've exploded, and had swanned around him, into the living room, where she plopped down on the sofa and told Douglas to, shut up, old man, you're being a menace. With a twinkle in her eye, of course. That was how they'd always been with each other. Bickering and caustic.

"Thank you, Darce," Derek said, shoulders sagging in relief.

He fixed her a cup of instant—lots of cream—and delivered it to her while she helped Douglas navigate Netflix. Derek was able to get some paperwork in order in another room while they watched a movie. It wasn't exactly a break, but he'd take what he could get.

Until, that was, he heard Douglas' voice climb in volume. He hurried into the living room to find Darcy quickly pausing the movie, trying to calm Douglas down as he ranted, his face red, eyes wild.

"This town is fucking cursed." He spat, shrunken body vibrating in his armchair, "It's Hell itself. You can't get out of here! No one gets out of here if your blood is in the soil!"

Darcy shot Derek an apologetic look, motioning to the movie. The scene was paused on some graphic image of grotesque pigskin masks nailed to trees. A low-budget movie about cults or witches or curses, Derek didn't know. He grabbed the remote and turned the TV off, rushing over to Douglas to crouch beside him, hand on Douglas' leg.

"Dad, it's okay." He tried, expression neutral, "That place isn't real, it's just a movie."

"Sweetie, I tried to tell him," Darcy murmured, wringing her hands, looking nervous and uncomfortable as Douglas dismissed Derek's words entirely and launched into another heated tirade.

"You don't know anything, boy. This place is haunted. Ghosts everywhere. You can't see them, but they're there. In the shadows. In the ground. You come to this town to die!" Douglas ranted, not making sense.

Derek nodded at Darcy, an indication to get Douglas' medicine from the bathroom cabinet. She was gone and back in a flash, moving faster than her old body should allow, likely prompted by the unhinged scene Douglas was making.

Douglas grabbed Derek by the collar and pulled him in, stronger than Derek remembered him being in awhile. Spit on his chin and a sinister gleam in his eye, Douglas snarled, "You've had your head so far up your ass you can't see it. Ever since your foreign friend died. You were always a little bitch, but I never thought you were stupid."

Derek yanked himself out of Douglas' grasp, let Darcy take over in giving Douglas one of the pills to calm him down, get him drowsy. Derek retreated to the kitchen and held himself up on the counter, breathing like Meredith Chung had taught him. One deep inhale. Hold. Hold. Hold. One long exhale. Repeat.

Darcy came in a few minutes later, "He's quiet." She said it with sympathy, and Derek felt her boney hand on his back. "I'm sorry you have to deal with this. He's not the man he was."

"Yeah." Derek said, had nothing else to add.

"He loves you." Darcy assured, though she sounded remorseful, as if she didn't quite believe it anymore. "You're doing a good thing, Derek. Staying with him. He'd have no one else if it wasn't for you."

Derek stayed silent, and then, "He has you."

"That's not the same. I'm not family." He heard the subtle smile in her voice when she said, "Family is everything. Especially in these twilight years." Kinder, "It's hard when that shift happens and you find yourself having to take care of the ones who took care of you. But it's worth it in the end."

"I hope so," Derek muttered.

He straightened, gave her a tight smile and then wandered back to the other room to collect the paperwork he'd been sifting through. He tucked what he needed into a folder, checked in with Darcy to make sure she was able to stay for another hour, at least until the nurse arrived, and then walked out the door.

He groaned when as he turned around, none other than Claire Zomer stood at the bottom of the porch steps.

He was not in the mood for this.

"Hey. Why haven't you answered my texts?"

"Claire...you need to leave right now." He implored, noticing another car parked down the street that he recognized.

Claire didn't budge. "What'd you tell the cops?"

"Go home, Claire."

"Tell me." Then, her expression twisted in what Derek could only describe as fear. "I need to know what you said."

Derek had had enough of the bullshit. All of it. He needed to put it behind him if he was going to move forward.

"I told them the truth." He said. "That I took that money to pay off my dad's debt. And that's where I was the night Maddie disappeared, with my father."

Claire glanced away, shamefaced.

"Is that alright with you?" Derek demanded, feeling less inclined to hold it together. When Claire didn't say anything, "Cool. Can I go?"

As he made his way toward the car down the street, Claire called after him, "Did you say anything about me?"

Internally, Derek got in her face and screamed. Outwardly, he turned to face her, petty, digging, "You know what? I don't remember." And turned back, quick-stepping his way to Andrew's car.

He slid into the passenger's seat, head falling back on the headrest, and he released a weary sigh.

"Who was that?" Andrew asked, watching Claire get back into her car through the side mirror.

Derek rolled his head to the side and gave Andrew a pleading expression, "No questions?"

Andrew snorted, "It's nothing illegal, is it?"

"Fuck, no." Derek sat up straight, alarmed, "Nothing like that."

Andrew peered at Derek for a moment, smiled, "Alright, buddy, I believe you," then pulled into the road.

Derek pulled the rolled-up folder from his back pocket and opened it in his lap, reciting what he'd put together for Andrew to judge. They were on their way to see Andrew's niece's husband—a fucking mouthful. Dave. If Derek wanted to put the scandal and Split River behind him, he needed to sell the house, and Dave was apparently a top dog realtor, willing to do Andrew a solid and help Derek without commission.

He didn't know how he was going to explain it to his father. Or Darcy. Or anyone. But Split River had taken everything from Derek, including his dignity, and he was ready to make his life in the town past tense.

💀___________________________

PROLOGUE - PART TWO

also available on AO3!

MASTERLIST

[dangermousie]

The way this episode progresses, from the prologue when he family won't give her chicken soup as he overhears helplessly (!!!)

To midway through when he makes soup to feed her but claims it's leftover (as is his usual modus operandi; when he does all these nice things but invents excuses to her why it's not truly for her.)

To the ending, when he admits THIS IS JUST FOR HER aaaaaa. This is the first time in present timeline we've seen him actually being forthright that he's doing something just for her because of her to her etc etc. And I think it's because the longer they are together, the more comfortable he feels to admit his heart to her - he's not damaged the way she is but he's also been wounded so it takes time. But also - she so needed it. To be explicitly shown with no room for misunderstanding that even if she doesn't think she's worth cherishing, someone else does.

[blueishspace]

Hero Villain God 5

(Prev) (Next) (First)

*Grian's pov*

It started with wanting to find a place to live in, you know that such things are important for humans and you certainly aren't going to half ass this and roam around or something.

Now, how a human acquires one of those houses, you didn't know. You should have probably researched it or something...but you didn't really want to and in the end you ended up not needing to since apparently mortals put up ads and one was just the one for you: A man in search of a roommate.

You never had a roommate before and It's not like you had any better places to look into so you made a decision to just try it because, why not?

The man from the ad, a certain Mumbo Jumbo, looked like he was one bad day from nevrosis when you talked to him for the first time... It would have probably been better to introduce yourself via call or text instead of just walking to his house and knocking on his door... oops, oh well... He looks like he would have been extremely akward anyway.

The apartment itself is not particularly special, not that you expected anything different, but you don't really care about how it looks as you don't need anything. As for the roommate... Well it would be a waste not to, he just looks so fun.

"I'm in, where do I sign?"

"It's fine if you don't - Ah? Wait really?"

Was he expecting you to dislike it? Isn't you liking his whole objective? Ah, weirdo.

"Yeah yeah, really"

"O-oh! This is great!"

This man contains so much anxiety... You laugh a bit, you know It's a bit rude but you just can't help it.

... There is another reason you decided to go trough with this though, innocent as he may seem this guy is secretly a supervillain!

It wasn't that hard to look into his mind considering mortals rarely ever have any sort of mental defenses and see everything you need to know. At first you didn't know why a villain would want a roommate considering how counterproductive it is to have a potential witness so close to him but you don't need to look into his mind to realize he desperately needs to save money.

You did look into his villain persona just to be extra sure this wasn't a trap and he wouldn't try to stab you and accidentally reveal your divinity or something...It would be pretty akward.

Luckily the Boogeyman, weird name but you respect the hustle, seems more of a hacker-inventor type of villain and stabbing random people just doesn't seem fit his modus operandi... he's more of a mad scientist then a stabber and he's not going to be able to drug you anyway since you are a god...

This doesn't stop you from saying "You know, earlier the newspaper said they are sending a bunch of the top detectives to catch Boogeyman" and watching him tense up and sweat profusely.

Unfortunately trying to get him with a "What do you do for a living?" didn't work out, at least he had the foresight to prepare for that specific question...that being that he works with machinery and electronics which is technically not a lie considering what you know of Boogeyman...

You on the other hand did not share the same foreshight, luckily you already had a persona you wanted to try out and this was the perfect occasion to introduce her to the world..

"S-So, what about you? What do you do?"

"I am a singer, It's still a work in progress however"

"R-really?! That's...nice? What's your stage name? If you have one of course I wouldn't want to assume!"

Oh that, you already had one in mind! One that just screams talent! And fame.

"Oh It's Ariana, Ariana Griande!"

Munbo looks confused but he also looks like he is trying very hard not to speak... Not unusual for what you seen of him but still unexpected...Why?

"What's wrong?"

"O-oh! Nothing is wrong! I was just surprised It's a feminine name- Have I been misgendering you this whole time!?"

Oh right, when planning that name you forgot one thing... Human gender... So annoying.

There are a bunch of way you could explain it to him, you could say that It's an inside joke or something or you could try to explain how you view gender without revealing to him that you are a divine being older then gender itself or you could try to identify with one of the thousands labels mortal use... But you have already done the first two and you don't really want to make it too complicated for him. Who knows how much he can handle?

So you go with option four:

"Oh yeah, It's because I sing while in drag"

"Oh! That's cool!"

...

Hmmmm... Maybe you can try it out really quickly...

"I don't have the outfit here right now but I could sing something for you."

"R-really? Uh! Are you sure"

"Would I be asking otherwise?"

"U-uh Go ahead!"

It's been a while since you have sung to someone like this but singing has always felt calming to you... ...You begin singing to him of a soldier, a poet and a king. (Of a hero, a villain and a god).

*End of Chapter 1*

[caba-111]

how common are the worms from your lizard world in, like, large cities? do that have the same/similar rights as lizards, or is there bias or something?

There are only like... ~30 free Worms out there. Each one is unique and Worm Watchers, something of a subculture among artificers, can name each one by sight alone.

With so few worms, It's big news when a new one appears. The first thing a Free Worm deals with is a thorough inspection by the local authority on ancient and unusual things. Once they've been inspected and documented, worms are technically free to go. In practice, worms have no idea what to do, and they're almost always taken in by whatever community they wandered in to.

---

In The Heartland, worms occupy a nebulous zone between people and weird wildlife. They're treated somewhat like neurodivergent lizards, which is to say not very well. Some progressive families attempt to integrate them with varying degrees of success; otherwise, they make for very conspicuous (and economically useful) nameless.

The Federal Family and its successor have also taken guardianship of several worms. These "Government" worms are better cared for and treated slightly more like people, but for the most part, they're academic curiosities, and being an academic curiosity is every bit as lonely as being an outcast.

---

The Temple States generally agree that worms are agents of Heaven, but what that means is up for debate. Are they a representation of the perfects' wisdom, or their scorn?

Regardless of the symbolism, the Temple States are overall the most equitable. They believe that a person's capabilities are a gift, and it's their duty to help people express them. Worms aren't... the same sort of person as lizards.... but the general principle is the same, and the priests make a genuine if imperfect attempt to accommodate them. Unfortunately, the standard exams aren't really suited to non-lizards, and it's hard to have a normal social life when people think you're some kind of divine being.

---

In Duhr, if a bug or a rock is considered people, a being that can walk around, make decisions, and communicate with others is very much people. For that reason, respecting worms' agency is theoretically Duhr's modus operandi, but things are messier in practice.

For one thing, most Duhra are absolutely terrified of running afoul of the spirits of ancient technology. The fact that worms are made of ancient technology makes many people deeply hesitant to interact with them.

Worms' other problem, given their difficulty learning lizzer language or understanding lizzer social dynamics, is that they tend to be reliant on self-appointed translators and handlers. Some of these "guardians" are genuinely interested in helping them. But others are simply in it for a cut of the profits, the worst being exploitative and openly abusive.

[aspiringtrashpanda]

My Nightbringer Season 3 Thoughts

Alright. Here we go. I have so many thoughts and I needed to write them all out. Please do not proceed past the cut unless you have completed Nightbringer lesson 60, for LOTS of spoilers lie ahead.

FIRST OFF, I want to acknowledge that this is being written prior to reading lesson 60 HARD because I have to finish lesson 59 HARD first and I need to yap.

SECONDLY, I want to say that I am not hating on the writers here AT ALL. Nightbringer has always been a slow burn. It was set up that way. The writers were absolutely forced into a corner here and had to wrap a long story up speedy quick and they did what they could in a short period of time. As someone who loves long fics and slow burns, I like to think I understand where they were trying to go with the story, and I do genuinely feel like the overall point of the Nightbringer season 3 art makes perfect sense, but the execution leaves more to be desired for a multitude of reasons. 

So, let’s get into it.

WHAT WORKED

THE RAD SCIENCE FAIR

This may be a controversial opinion, but I believe the Science Fair was a great inclusion as it mirrors the progression of the human world over the years. Hear me out: considering we are spanning thousands of years here, it’s worth looking at the mentality of the human race over history. For a long time faith in your chosen religion was considered the answer to most troubles, and only in more recent history have we seen a shift towards a reliance on science and modern technology. 

It is important to note that I am an atheist, though I strongly believe in freedom of religion. I’m drawing from basic observation here, and am not well-versed in the details of religion and science, but I do think it’s fair to say that we as a species have gone from believing illnesses to be due to demonic possession to looking for a more scientific reason why we’re coughing up blood. THUS, I think the Devildom Science Fair is a cool way to show this progression, but it leaves one problem: We don’t know the Celestial Realm’s views on all of this. See the next section on WHAT DIDN’T WORK for more on this. 

The Science Fair did present numerous opportunities for light shenanigans with the cast that hint to other things going on, which has been Nightbringer’s modus operandi since the beginning. There is absolutely an issue with pacing here, however, but I will cover that later and again, not the writers’ fault. Regardless, the Science Fair started off strong. We had a great brotherly moment with Asmodeus and Leviathan, Mammon managed to win by still doing things his own way, and Satan shone in Beelzebub’s arc (RIP Beel, I’m so sorry.) Not to mention the slow reveal that something is going on with MC’s powers due to the time jumps and that there is unrest in the Devildom by those who don’t agree with Diavolo’s values and projects as the stand-in leader of the Devildom. We got a lot of information in between the lines, which is what Nightbringer does best.

On top of that, if the goal of the Science Fair was to a) introduce the biology component with the genes to aid in returning Simeon to exclusively a human, and b) culminate with the whole power imbalance that has the moon wanting to… fuck the MC or whatever, idk, changing the order in which the subjects are presented would have been beneficial. See the next section on WHAT DIDN’T WORK for more on this. 

SIMEON'S ARC

It was clear from the moment it was revealed that the MC was returning to the original timeline that Simeon would be in the spotlight in Nightbringer season 3. Simeon’s corruption arc (or redemption arc) was executed well for the most part. Simeon’s motives and desires were in line with his character, and there was growth in his decision to try and work towards becoming an angel again, because he would still be part of the group regardless of his species. 

Simeon saying “To me, it’s not so much ‘what I am’ as ‘who I’m with’ that matters” is a great way to summarize his little character arc. We’ve seen him thrive in caretaker roles (with Luke, of course), but it’s important that we acknowledge how badly he’s always wanted to be a part of the family the brothers have made for themselves. By refusing to become a demon, he’s fulfilling a caretaker role by providing company for Luke and Raphael, but he’s doing it on his own terms, understanding that he is loved no matter what. 

It was cute watching the cast worry so much about Simeon, and really give their all to try and help him. The explanation in Lesson 58 that the Ring of Light purified the demonic energy from Simeon was very important, because at first I was just like… Simeon, you can’t just say you aren’t going to be a demon anymore and be cured. It doesn’t work like that, honey. BUT THEN AGAIN, we don’t know that because we have no idea how ideology in the Celestial Realm has changed over the years. This ties in perfectly with one of the main goals of the Science Fair, and how it would have worked well if executed better.

RAPHAEL'S ARC

Oh, sweet Raphael, you were absolutely supposed to be integrated into the intimacy system at this point in the initial planning. I’m sure of it. I don’t have too much to say on this, other than that it was some nice exposure on how lonely the Celestial Realm is. Which makes you wonder: is the Celestial Realm pretty empty or is Raphael simply mourning the loss of his closer friends? Again, there have been thousands of years since the brothers fell to now, and yet Raphael hasn’t made too many important new relationships in the Celestial Realm? Is there a lack of angels? Is this because of science being considered treasonous to Father and it’s increase of relevance in the modern world? 

Questions aside, it was really nice to get a spotlight on Raphael and how much the rest of the cast mean to him/how much the rest of the cast care about him (lookin’ at you, Mephisto). 

WHAT DIDN'T WORK

PACING, FORESHADOWING AND CHARACTER SPOTLIGHTS

Big sigh. Let’s talk about the devil elephants in the room right now, shall we? The last 5 or so lessons in this season were SO RUSHED, it was laughable. Multiple characters got completely bulldozed by the looming end of the season, and it was so frustrating as a Leviathan fan to get hardly any quality time with him (sorry to Belphie fans too, my goodness). Again, this is not the fault of the writers at all, but I would like to present that the season should have ended with the fallout from Raphael’s breakdown in Babel. 

In my personal opinion, the main goal of season 3 should have been to return Simeon to human status, and the main goal of season 4 should have been to address the power imbalance due to the time jumping. As I mentioned earlier, Obey Me! has always excelled at providing information and foreshadowing between the lines. If the Devildom Biology and Devildom Studies competitions had been held earlier in the season (ideally after the Devildom Information Science finals), with outcomes indirectly related to Simeon’s genes and the magic of the moon, it would have noted something like genetics and historical magical surges in a manner that would foreshadow what is to come, hinted through shenanigans like with the trip to Meowcao. Then, season 3 would end with Raphael’s meltdown, Simeon deciding he doesn’t want to be a demon, and the Science Fair being put on hold momentarily for everyone to catch their bearings. Starting in season four, we could add so much more about MC’s protective magic surges, with Belphie and Satan inching closer to the truth about the time travel, and the magic balance being thrown off in the Devildom. Then, the entirety of what happened in lesson 60 would make much more sense and wouldn’t feel like it was just thrown at us out of nowhere. Not that the writers had any control over that, though. If only we were able to get one more season 😭

CELESTIAL REALM POINT OF VIEW

Someone in one of the servers I’m in mentioned that it’s annoying that we’re being given scientific solutions for moral consequences that were emphasized in the original game, and that’s why I think it’s possible the writers were trying to show the progression of science over many, many years. However, having no insight into how this progression is affecting the Celestial Realm creates confusion instead of intrigue. We are not given any clue to believe that “He” or “Father” has changed his stance on what is considered treason to the Celestial Realm. So to go from more ethical and moral reasons to cast beings out of the Celestial Realm, to sciencing away demon genes seems bizarre. Why would Simeon be welcomed back into the Celestial Realm because they forced the genes from his body? If he’s still being punished for a lack of loyalty to “Him”, then he hasn’t atoned for that at all. 

And then, if it was alluded to that the Celestial Realm was willing to incorporate science into their forgiveness system, that still opens so many more questions regarding the reason the brothers fell in the first place. Would they be cast out of the Celestial Realm now? Of course, they would absolutely choose to remain in the Devildom if given the choice, but if both Simeon and Lucifer and co. were punished for acts of love (familial or romantic or platonic, just love in general) and Simeon is welcomed back while still standing by his choices, some sort of acknowledgement of how things have changed for the better would help tidy things up. We all live and learn, so if that’s the argument that the Celestial Realm wants to make, it needs to be a bit more clear. 

Of course, Simeon does not officially return to angel status by the end of lesson 60, but he is invited to return to talk to Michael, so that’s kind of a big deal. Who knows what will happen next (if we continue on this story in another way, or something).

LOOSE ENDS

It’s time to talk about Nightbringer. I have… so many thoughts on who Nightbringer is, but there is no point in going into that because we will never, ever know, apparently. Leaving things vague is cool and all, but there’s a difference between “vague enough to theorize” and just “so vague it’s irrelevant”, and unfortunately the end of Nightbringer drifts into the territory of the latter. It no longer matters why MC was sent to the past to create a power imbalance (because isn’t that something–was MC sent to the past to make the pacts again and therefore cause a power imbalance that would draw the moon in and help a nameless demon usurp the throne/another realm gain an advantage over the Devildom?), because nothing ever comes of it, which is super unsatisfying. 

There are other loose ends of course, too, but I’m too tired from writing all this to think about that right now, so feel free to talk about it in the comments. 

FORCED LUCIFER KISS

Listen, I groaned so loud at this. I like Lucifer as a character but I cannot stand him as a romantic interest, and I’m sure I’m not the only one who feels this way. Yes, the game absolutely supports polyamory and that’s cool and all, but I don’t wanna kiss Lucifer, okay. He is not part of my polycule and he never will be smh. 

(sir why did you have to smooch me right in front of Levi?! His little hummingbird heart can’t take it and we all know I only wanna be with him.)

ANYWAY, thank you for coming to my TEDTalk. I needed to get this all off my chest. I love Obey Me! so much and I believe this IP has so much potential. I truly hope we can be optimistic about the future, but I know that’s hard to do right now. I’m here if anyone needs to talk about Nightbringer ending, and I still intend to create content for these silly characters 💕

[rigelmejo]

7/13/2024, some thoughts from this week.

The word 方 in japanese confuses me so much. I know its pronounced hou. It seems to be similar to koto こと/事. It seems to mean something different depending on the sentence. I'm guessing its like "this way, in this way, that thing, a person LIKE that, something" or some kind of meaning like that. But I see it all the time and just do Not clearly understand 方 when I see it and it is frsutrating.

I've seen some results this month of all the listening practice I've been doing! So I guess, at least for getting results for myself, I would say the strategy of listen to audio of stuff you could read, re-listen, and just do that a LOT does result in better listening comprehension (better at parsing word/phrase/sentence meanings quickly), learning some new words, and getting better at understanding Easier audio (audio with less unique words, more common words) as a side benefit.

Results of all the chinese audiobooks and audio dramas I've been listening to since June: I can follow 默读 chapter actions, dialogues, and some descriptives of new chapters I haven't recently read in chinese or english (but I have read them before). I can follow the main overall idea of most scenes in 魔道祖师 audiobook (which is an accomplishment since at the beginning of June it took a few listens to even parse what scene is vaguely what and re-learn a lot of chinese words I knew, whereas now I'm catching a lot of action clauses with verbs and some dialogue words and some key descriptive words so I am getting a vague picture of scenes). I can follow nearly every line of 默读 audio drama episode 1, there were only maybe 4-8 sentences with words I didn't know or couldn't immediately guess on the first listen. I can follow the main idea of scenes in the Cherry Magic chinese audio drama, despite not listening to that gersion before and noticing the therapist they added (???). However: I did notice less quick comprehension of business and job words, and I'd probably need more relistening to pick up better comprehension (the way multiple Modu chapter listens helped with words like 证据 证词). I also watched Hikaru No Go Qi Hun cdrama, first episode, and understood everything fully except for a few sentence explanations about how to play go and a few sayings Chu Ying said. Shi Guang's casual talking was a bit hard to get used to in the first few scenes.

And then, since grasping the main idea is great! It means I can just keep re-listening to learn more from that point on! But I did know at least the rough plot of the things listed above, so I had a crutch in understanding somewhat.

A big result for me was the improvement in understanding SCI audiobook, since I've never read it before and haven't seen the drama (I just know its murder investigation team with some bl - and I do plan to watch and read one day). I tried listening to it in June, on a drive for like 3 hours. I could catch some bits: theres a team talking, a boss/chief, some words about a case. At that point I was mostly just re-remembering a lot of words I used to know. Then I listened again to maybe 30 minutes, and caught something about an elevator and a fight, caught the main guys names better, caught that their chief told them to go handle a case and then one main person picked another guy up from their apartment (maybe?). I listened again a few days ago, just to the first chapter of the audiobook again. It was kind of cool and kind of disorienting? In that this time around I recognized a LOT of words, but ny brain was slow to piece them together into "so the sentence means X".

So Id grasp the meaning of a full phrase, or an action taken, or dialogue (which is probably the easiest to quickly comprehend since people talk in a more similar way, versus the broad differences in how different authors handle the rest of the text sentences), or bits of descriptives in small phrase chunks, and I was recognizing ALL character names this time around and some key details like how the office reacted to the elevator fight noises. But overall Id say, it was like I could follow the main idea in each scene but there'd be random chunks all over the place I didn't grasp either at all or fast enough. A huge improvement over when I listened a month ago, and probably the most difficult thing Ive managed to grasp the main idea of that I have not read before to help. Still a long ways away from full comprehension. Its really interesting to see the improvement though in just a month! If i keep this up, i might really be able to listen to new audiobooks for plot by the end of the year.

That's my goal: to follow the main idea, nearly all actions and dialogue, and at least key descriptives (so like where I am when listening to 默读 now) when I listen to NEW audiobooks or dramas. Since thats enough to enjoy the plot and feel i understood the important parts of the plot, while also still learning more if im listening to something i still need to learn more words from (which is most audio lets be real lol).

In terms of comprehension now, although this will be a really rough guess (since I'm not counting actual unknown words): modu audiobook 90-95% comprehension depending on which sentence (i understand the audio a BIT less well than the book, and i can read the book extensively mostly so book comprehension is like 92-98% depending on the chapter), modu audio drama is 95% or higher (i really did understand almost everything), modaozushi comprehension was like 80-85% maybe in that I think I can understand a lot of phrase chunks but theres also a lot of unknown words and guess work I have to do until I get more familiar with the writing style and specific vocabulary in it, Cherry Magic audiodrama is like 88-92% in that I am struggling to catch specific details but I know if I relistened 3 times I's know almost every word and it would be more like 95% or higher comprehension - but because i need to practice hearing the business words more, comprehension is low enough (like 88%) to feel i need to focus more intensely to catch more details. Hikaru No Go Qi Hun is easily 95-100% comprehension, im a little baffled its actually so easy, maybe i could watch The Bad Kids with no subs now... i assume maybe Shi Guang and kids/teenagers being the leads and the daily life setting helps keep the vocahulary mostly in the realm of more common words ive definitely already learned... hence why the go specific words and sayings from Chu Ying were the only unknown words (being more specific words and less common). SCI audiobook is like 85% comprehension in that... its easier to follow than modaozushi, and i think i could probably comprehend 90% if i relistened a few more times, but at present its just i am NOT adjusted to the author's word choices and preferred way of describing things so the non dialogue non action parts are just Hard for me to comprehend quickly as i listen.

So that's how chinese listening progress is going. I guess I proved to myself that I really am at a point where I just need to LISTEN TO STUFF A LOT, A LOT, AND LISTENING WILL SIMPLY IMPROVE. So yeah, lets see how listening comprehension progress is in another month.

If anyone's curious, while listening I would open google translate app up and type in a word here or there that I wanted to know the meaning of. Some words were words I actually knew in reading and didnt recognize in listening, some were brand new words. I probably would have been fine looking no words up, but it kept irritating me every time i heard a word like 证据 市局 事故 局 负责 否则 that I KNOW ive read before, that would clarify the whole phrase meaning of what I just heard, but i couldnt remember the meaning from just listening when im used to the word's visual appearance reminding me of word meanings.

So how has japanese been going?

Also interesting improvements. Honestly. A bit surprised at how much improvement. Because in glossika japanese app im only on sentence like 1700, and there isnt a new word every sentence so ive probably only reviewed 1200 common words so far (i used to know 2000+ japanese words last time i was properly into studying). Maybe theres a vague memory of the other words i knew once, in my head helping me comprehend stuff? But as far as like glossika materials, i didnt expect to Improve my japanese comprehension until id studied 3000 sentences (and was finally learning some truly NEW japanese words). Now... the glossika course has given me a few new words, and not some of the common words i expected it to already cover, but its just not enough new words to make a big impact yet in my opinion (maybe 200 brand new words for me tops).

I think the main thing driving the improvement in japanese comprehension ive seen this month is:

1. Exposure, so much japanese exposure to refresh my memory and what i used to know, and to practice comprehending what i knew FASTER since im hearing japanese a Lot. 2. A lot of exposure in a short amount of time probably helped refresh my memory lol. 37 hours Ive listened to japanese this past month. 3. I do think one benefit of using glossika (although I think its overpriced for how many errors it has, and Clozemaster's radio mode or free anki sentence decks or watching shows/condensed audio/a lot of media exposure would have the SAME benefit) is that I'm getting a lot of exposure to japanese verbs and adjectives in MANY conjugations, particularly in conjugations that are very common in real life but in learning materials tend to be focused on later in learning and less for beginners. Ive run into a ton of verbs in glossika that are a. Compound verbs being used together b. Sareta form. C. Rareru form d. Te-imasu and te-iru form (and the negatives, past tense, etc versions of those verb forms). E. The ways of saying "must". F. The way soke japanese statements love using double negatives or negatives to express a positive (such as "would you like to go" being きみはいきませんか negative ikimasen). The wide variation in how I'm seeing verbs is helping me recognize verbs I know MUCH faster, regardless of the form they're showing up in.

I think it depends on personal opinion, or experts smarter than me, but theres an idea that each word you learn is really each form of a word. So for example, in chinese you just learn run once as 跑 and youre good! 跑 will always be that pronunciation, that hanzi, in any sentence. But learn run in english, and you actually need to learn multiple words to fully understand the word in Any sentence you see it in: run, running, ran. So with languages with a lot of conjugations, my thought is maybe you need to learn more forms of words to truly learn them to the level of recognizing them in multiple forms. So with a language like japanese, you want to get familiar with ALL the verb forms of each word youre learning, eventually. I feel that exposure to such a massive amount of varied verb forms is helping me fill in those gaps of "i know 来る 来ます 来ません well but i dont recognize these if i hear them fast 来られます 来られないんです etc". So the frequent exposure to lots of different verb forms helps to comprehend faster what verb im hearing and what that form of the verb is Communicating specifically.

Also though I just struggle a lot with japanese grammar so. For me I guess more exposure to varied grammar is always going to help me, over not doing it.

As my own test on myself lol, I did a lot of this glossika japanese app course just pressing play and letting lessons play in the background. I read a sentence when im curious? And ive played the review audio around 35% of the time (more than i usually would lol). But for the most part i just press play on the sentences audio, and work or read tumblr or whatever i was planning to do. I dont pay full attention. And im still seeing improvements so. The lesson for me i guess: better to do something imperfectly and with only some effort, rather than not doing anything at all. Even imperfect with inconsistent effort causes improvement and learning.

So now the fun part: progress I've seen in a month.

I found a link to some japanese condensed audio, so thats what I used. I listened to Final Fantasy X audio from the opening to about when Yuna and company leave Besaid. I've listened to that part of the game before in japanese, like watching lets plays. Listening to the audio this time around was wild: i could guess the word for high summoner (based on the braska conversation in the temple), i could understand Tidus saying he didnt know the prayer to wakka, wakka telling tidus he reminds him of Chappu, the crusaders explaining sin (roughly) to tidus, tidus dreaming underwater of his dad and in the cold temple wishing to not be lonely anymore, rikku introducing herself and saying she's al-bhed and asking tidus if hes prejudiced and tidus saying he plays in the zanarkand abes, her telling him zanarkand is gone but maybe he could find someone in luca and he got too close to sin, wakka saying you play blitzball, the villager who says stay away from the summoner, yuna saying thank you! I understood a LOT of the audio!

It was weird. In the past, id guess a lot of the japanese by the kanji in the cutscenes (and rough similarity to chinese meaning) and some japanese i knew. This time i Only listens to audio so no kanji to help me guess. And this time i didnt have to guess a lot, i just Understood. I had to guess wjen tidus dreamt of yuna and rikku since i didnt understand the lines but remembered the dream sound effects, and guess the part where tidus walked in on yuna finishing the temple, but the parts i described above? I just was able to follow because of the audio. Wild. Wild to me. It felt like listening to SCI in chinese: lots of individual words and phrases i understood, mostly action words or common noun objects, and dialogue is easier to follow (and since a game is all dialogue in its audio of course FFX had less descriptions id struggle with compared to SCI audiobook). Ive never understood the main idea of japanese audio, without japanese subtitles to help me (with guessing from hanzi knowledge) and without visual context (like watching a lets play i can guess based on lets players expression and the game cutscene and actions happening).

So yeah. That was a wild fucking success. Still a lot to learn and get better at, obviously. But i think i could learn new words (and re-remember some words i once knew) by listening to japanese more. With visuals too, like a lets play or show, i could probably grasp some additional details beyond just the main ideas. And have an easier time of it than i did a year ago. I feel very excited, and intimidated. But learned: okay listening to random sentences of japanese and english does seem to help me lol.

The other test was i listened to condensed audio of death note episode 1 and 2. Again, no visuals to help me. But also, again like with FFX, the benefit of me knowing the plot and that helping me place what scene i hear and guess at some of the words im hearing. It went? Bafflingly well? Not easy by any means. But not impossible. I followed the main idea of most scenes (the scenes of the shinigami in shinigami realm i couldnt get most of the dialogue, and the police ICP meeting i caught 警察 keisatsu and L and L mentioning Kira is probably japanese but a lot of the back and forth chatter i couldnt guess much of). I followed what was going on mainly with key words i know, phrase chunks i understood, and then using my prior plot knowledge to guess. Im frankly just surprised that doing this was possible - i expected almost no comprehension. Comprehension wasnt high, of course, but it was enough to learn new stuff by continuing to listen (thanks in part to plot familiarity), which i could not do with Death Note a year ago unless i watched it visually and used visuals to help/kanji to help guess/intense focus and pausing the screen a lot to look at japanese subtitles/and paused a lot (i did not have good listening skills AT ALL).

So i guess the biggest takeaway is that listening to japanese is doing what I hoped it would: improve my comprehension of Spoken Japanese (without using kanji for a crutch as much as i normally do), and improve my speed of comprehension of listening to japanese.

I still need to learn a LOT more words. But im happy that this study method does seem to be helping to fix the weak spots i knew i had.

[smolbonbon]

Whether you like it or not you're stuck with me

Solar/Moon fanfiction (but can be read as platonic)

⚠️TW: past abuse, panic attacks, fever dream (But a lot of comfort and bonding)

I hope you enjoy it <3

It's already been a week after Solar and Moon rescued the smaller jester and as always, Solar was glued to the computer.

He and Moon made a lot of progress on their project, but it's not finished yet. It's one of Solar's top priorities, to make sure Lunar is safe at all times, he has to make sure nothing happens, and that Eclipse won't get their bloody hands on them again.

But for some reason, he couldn't just focus.

He felt a heavy feeling in his body like everything was just pulling him down. Also, he keeps sneezing even though he cleaned his fans a few days ago. Then there was the sore feeling in his joints.

His hands also seemed not to be able to stop shaking. It wasn't unusual that the dark Sun animatronic had problems with his body, but it was worse than usual.

Was it stress? It couldn't be. He dealt with worse, and unlike the past, this was nothing. He even has way less on his plate than before.

Actually, when was the last time he slept? Perhaps it's the need for rest that is causing this.

Solar would normally drink coffee right now, but drinks or food just don't sound appealing at the moment.

The grumpy bot shook his head and tried to focus on the monitor. It needed to be done but when he blinked at the monitor he couldn't make anything out of the numbers, and before he knew, his head was already on the desk.

Oh whatever, a little nap wouldn't hurt. Maybe sleeping for an hour will do, then he will finish it. Yeah, that sounds like a plan.

When Moon was entering the daycare, he had a feeling that Solar was on the security desk.

Moon squinted his eyes and saw Solar was sleeping, but the grumpy solar bot wasn't alone.

The smaller jester was just standing in front of the security desk.

What was Ruin doing? As Ruin could feel the stare bore into him, he suddenly turned in Moon's direction and waved with a smile.

Moon would be lying if that didn't make him feel unsettled. He might look innocent, but Moon knew better than to judge a book by its cover.

Before he knew, his legs moved faster and when he opened the door, Ruin was walking towards Moon.

"Erh hello Moon! I was just about to look for you." Moon raised an eyebrow and instinctively moved to Solar.

"Yes, I'm here. What's up?" Ruin gave Moon a worried glance.

"Y-You see I was looking for Solar first and when I did, I couldn't help but notice that Solar.. uh fans are very loud. And normally, when an animatronic is in standby modus it's not usually that loud."

Moon put his hand on Solar's arm, and he noted how warm the Solar animatronic felt. Moon crouched down and softly nudged him.

"Solar wake up."

Solars fans blasted as he woke up. He groaned as he pulled himself up, and he held his head, everything was spinning.

Moon rubbed his arm gently. "You're doing alright there buddy?" 

Solar blinked at him and then looked at Ruin. "I guess."

Moon moved his hand to Solar's cheek before he knew Solar leaned in. Then Moon moved closer to him and scanned him.

"You're hot." To Solar's response, he only let out a strangled noise and blinked at him confused. 

"What?"

"You're overheating! Did you overwork yourself again?!" Moon hissed, Ruin fidgeted with his hands and just watched the interaction between them.

Solar leaned back into his chair. "No, I'm sure that I didn't. Also, I was just taking a nap." Solar rasped out.

Moon didn't ignore the fact that Solar's voice sounded strained. Moon let out a sigh as he realized what was happening.

"I think you caught the virus Ruin and I had." Solar raised a brow.

"But I didn't touch the barrier like you two did." Moon opened his mouth but didn't say anything. He was right. Solar didn't, so how did he catch it? 

Ruin cleared his throat to get their attention, with success. "Gentlemen, I don't mean to interrupt, but I have a theory about how Solar did catch it,"

Ruin looked at them with a nervous smile, as if he was embarrassed to mention it.

"perhaps the cause is through the sleepover you two had when Moon was sick."

Solar let out an embarrassed sound and Moon pinched the bridge of his nose and let out a sigh.

"That explains it. Viruses can spread through electricity." Moon spoke softly, ignoring the heat growing on his faceplate.

"C'mon let's get you to bed." Moon said pushy while grabbing his hands.

Solar let out a huff as the Lunar bot pulled him up.

"Alright, alright give me a second." Solar mumbled grumpy, he knew he wouldn't be able to work, he couldn't even stand without holding on to something. 

"Ruin, Earth will be here any second. Can you tell her that I'm with Solar in his room?" Ruin stood straight and saluted. "Will do!" He replied enthusiastically.

Moon and Solar made their way to the room. Solar bumped into Moon every now and again. He tried to focus on walking in a straight line, but it didn't help that his sight was blurry.

"Want me to carry you?" Moon teased, and Solar chuckled.

"What, don't you want me to return the favor from last time?" Moon nudged Solar and rolled his eyes.

"What favor? I only carried you to your room when you passed out. It's the last thing I could've done." Moon shrugged.

"I would rather carry you before you pass out."

"I'll let you know if I want to be carried." Solar said playfully, and when they reached the theater he placed his hand on Moon's shoulder.

"But if you don't mind, I will put my hand on your shoulder, so I can walk straight."

"Sure things will go ahead." 

Solar sat down on his bed and leaned against the wall. The cold feeling of the wall made the Solar bot sigh, he closed his eyes and stretched.

There was a silence for a moment.

"You want to sleep?"

Solar thought about it. Yes, he was tired, but he didn't really want to be alone either, so he shook his head.

Asking him to stay while he sleeps sounds stupid. Moon is a busy guy, and the last thing he needs is to nurse him back to health. Even if he did that for him. Moon is not obligated to do the same thing for him.

The feeling of the mattress sinking under a new weight pulled him out of his thoughts. Solar opened his eyes a bit and saw how Moon crisscrossed next to him.

"You know you don't have to stay here if you're busy." Solar rasped out, but he felt tense at the thought of being alone.

"Nah, I'm good it can wait. Whether you like it or not, you're stuck with me."

Moon simply replied, Solar softly smiled and rolled his eyes.

"Terrifying." He said sarcastically as he felt more heat creeping into his faceplate. Moon chuckled quietly as he leaned back.

Solar felt an annoying ache in his body and his joints were stiff. He pointed to the hip flask next to Moon and Moon handed it to Solar.

"Not drinking alcohol, where are we?"

Solar barks out a laugh.

"Moon, you know there is no alcohol in this thing. But it wouldn't be such a bad idea for the pain." Moon grinned and shrugged.

"To be fair, this thing is not meant for oil."

Solar popped open the flask and dumped oil on his stiff joints. "I don't care for what it's made, as long it's handy." Moon nodded to his response.

Moon started to fidget with his hat. "Honestly, my first thought when I saw Ruin was that he did something to you. He stood in front of you and stared at you menacingly until he realized I was at the entrance of the daycare."

Moon continued to explain.

"He told me he was looking for me, but it didn't look like it." Solar frowned.

"I don't know what to think of that guy. Maybe he is just socially awkward, you know?"

Moon shrugged and glanced over to Solar. "Let's just be careful around him." Moon vocalized.

Solar nodded, and the conservation changed to a lighter topic. Solar doesn't need more to worry about at the moment.

Moon scanned him every now and again. He had to make sure Solar didn't overheat. Despite that Solar didn't tell him anything about how he felt, he could tell that he kept feeling worse. His faceplate was glowing, it almost looked like his old body and his voicebox kept glitching out.

"So that's when I told Lunar 'Soon.' " Solar chuckled at the memory, he explained to Moon what happened that made Lunar so jumpy around him.

"Take off your clothes." Moon bluntly spoke. Solar's eyes widened again, and his orange faceplate turned red.

"Huh??"

"Solar, you have to take off your shirt and pullover, so your processor doesn't overheat."

"How about you form full sentences and don't blurt out random things?"

Moon then realized his poor choice of words and let out a little 'sorry'.

Solar shook his head as he took off his shirt and pullover.

Solar grimaced at how vulnerable he felt, even though the most glamrock barely wore any clothes. Glamrock Freddy doesn't even wear pants.

Solar saw that Moon was scanning him again and let out a relieved sigh. He supposed his fans weren't going to blow out any time soon when Moon is around.

"So you're just going to do nothing to get back to Lunar?" Moon asked, remembering the last thing Solar told him about.

He shook his head and smiled, there was a twinkle in his eyes.

"Now I didn't say that, someday I will."

"Oh that's cruel. I love it, what do you have in mind?" Moon's curiosity showed as he got closer to him in the hope he'd tell him.

"To bad I won't tell you." Solar rasped out with a mischievous smile.

"Aw c'mon, I will keep my mouth shut." 

Moon frowned when Solar shrugged and stayed silent. Moon frowned.

"Believe me, when I prank him you will hear him." Solar smiled.

"That's boring." Moon pouted and Solar chuckled. "You're just impatient."

Solar doesn't recall that he fell asleep until he opened his eyes, but he doesn't recall being in another room.

When he looked around, Sun sat next to him and then the busk animatronic realized he was wearing his old clothes.

"Did you hear what I said, Eclipse?" The bright animatronic asked with a soft smile.

"What?"

"I think you spaced out there." He snickered. Solar blinked at him and cleared his throat.

"Sorry what did you say?" Sun smiled and leaned back into the orange couch.

Solar realized Sun made their mindscape look like the living room.

"Well, I said Moon and I played this weird game about babysitting a baby that is actually a demon." Sun told him excitedly and Solar smiled softly.

Why is this so familiar?

"So your plan to spend more time with Moon is working?" Sun nodded enthusiastically. "He doesn't seem to mind." 

When was the last time he saw Sun so.. happy?

"He still doesn't know about me, does he?"

Sun smile faded, and he fidgeted with his hands while he looked up to the darker Sun. 

"Erh no not yet. But I promise-, pinky promise I will! I just um don't think it's the right time yet."

Solar nodded and looked to the side.

Was he forgetting something?

Sun jumped up and held his hand out to Solar.

"I know you're worried, but I'm 100% sure everything will be okay." Solar took his hand and got up. He could tell Sun was nervous about telling Moon about him simply by his body language. But who was he to tell him that?

"Okay."

He is forgetting something.

"Come on, I want to play this game with you as well!"

"More like you play and I watch?" Solar spoke amused.

"Like you mind!" Sun blew raspberries to him and he chuckled.

"Very mature of you Sun." Solar said, amused.

Sun skipped to the door but when Solar followed him through the never, ending hallway. Sun was already going out through the door. He started to run, but the room was moving with him.

"Sun wait! Wait for me." He rasped out, the panic rising in his chest. When he finally reached the door, everything went dark.

"Sun?" Solar looked around and couldn't see anybody. 

It looked like he was inside an old laboratory. But why was he in there, and where is Moon? Did his processor give out, which is why Moon moved them to fix it?

Solar noted that he was lying on the cold table in an abandoned lab. Wasn't he just in Sun's room?

While he was looking around he noted that the lab had tubes that seemed to be very dirty and dusty. There was a singular bulb hanging right above him, but despite that, the room was dark.

The roof was leaking, spin webs in every corner and the tools which were laying on the table were way too rusty to use.

The room he was in looked way too familiar than he would have wanted.

What was he forgetting?

He started to feel his panic rise and when he sat up, his head was buzzing and there was a icky feeling in his body, like something was missing.

"Moon?"

The bask animatronic could see something moving in the back of his eye corner. Solar turned around quickly.

He felt something touching his shoulder and he gasped as he stood up from the table.

"Who's there?!" Solar yelled out, regardless of the feeling of dizziness catching up, he was ready to fight whatever was in there.

Trying to make any sense out of this, he silently waited for some response.

"Are you happy now?" A scratchy voice asked. Solar flinched, he knew exactly whose voice it was.

"What?"

"Are you happy with the life you have now? After everything you have done to us, Eclipse?" he asked in a sickening voice.

Moon.. his moon but how? He killed him, he couldn't be alive!

Solar backed to the corner as he saw a shadow walking towards him.

"You sick parasite, first off you took my brother from me, and then you shot me! And now you're just living your best life, huh?!"

"Moon.. I'm not-"

Solar's vision blurred when his Moon pulled him down to look directly at him.

Solar wanted to push him away, but he couldn't move his hands. He wanted to scream, move or anything else! Why couldn't he move?

"I should rip you apart, tear every single wire out and make sure you won't come back." Moon's voice was filled with hatred and rage. His eyes were glowing red and his pupils were turning to pinpoints.

Moon pushed him to the corner as he towered him. Solar could only see his glowing red eyes.

"I'll make sure you suffer until your last breath." Moon spoke low and with rage as he forcefully packed Solar's arm and tore him into the working tube.

"Moon- please I'll help you-"

"Shut up!" Moon interrupted him as he closed the tube.

"I'll make sure that you get what you deserve."

Solar panicked as he watched Moon walking towards the computer.

"Please, Moon, don't do it. Please!" Solar yelled with a hint of desperation.

Moon turned to him while he was pressing the button.

Solar screamed as he woke up. His hands were shaking and everything felt cramped.

Solar clutched his chest while he was hyperventilating.

"Hey, hey Solar, look at me." Moon spoke concerned as he got closer to him. Solar turned his head to him.

"Look at me, everything is okay. You are safe."

Solar's breath got slower as he slowly calmed down. Moon is stunned by how fast the sunset animatronic calmed down.

"I tried to wake you, but you wouldn't budge." Moon explained, concerned while reaching out for him. Solar flinched and Moon pulled his hand away.

"You're doing okay?" Moon asked carefully and kept his space.

Solar told him some things that had happened in his old location.

It was more his Moon that caused all the problems. Sure, that British Monty wasn't good either, but his Moon is another story. He also met that guy, when Moon stayed there to build the satellite with Solar.

"I'm.. not good." Solar sat up straight and wrapped his arms around his legs.

"I figured.. Um, you want to talk about it?" 

Solar shook his head and there was a silence. The whole cheering up wasn't Moon's thing. He didn't know how he could cheer up his friend.

Thinking about it, Earth would ask for a hug or something like that, but that involves touching and Solar doesn't seem to like that a lot.

Lunar cheered Solar up with a little puppet show last time, but there was no way he was going to do that. Solar would never let that go and tease him for the rest of his life.

Perhaps showing memes? But that wasn't really suitable at the moment.

Moon thought about it and then an idea came to his mind. Solar's drawing tablet. Maybe he would like to draw or something? The blue celestial animatronic remembered that Solar left it in the drawer by the security desk.

When he got up and walked towards the little tunnel, Solar grabbed his hand.

"Don't leave!" He yelped out and that startled the blue animatronic.

Moon focused on him and noted how panicked he looked. Moon never saw him that scared, he held his hand.

"Do you mind if I sit right next to you?"

"I don't mind."

Moon sat down next to him and watched the darker Sun animatronic.

"I actually just wanted to get your tablet." Moon spoke softly.

"Sorry. I don't know what's with me. I have been sick before, but I have never acted like that."

Moon shook his head. "You're fine. Remember when I had the virus? I couldn't be alone either and you know, normally, I even prefer being alone."

Solar nodded and when he remembered, he let out a soft laugh. "You held onto me like your life depended on it." Moon frowned and felt his faceplate heaten up.

"Shut it."

"You didn't even let me go when I took you to your bed." Solar softly teased and Moon jabbed his shoulder.

"I honestly never guessed you were a cuddle bug." Solar continued.

"I could say the same about you. When I woke up you were the one holding me."

Solar shrugged and smirked. "Well, at least I was the big spoon of us both."

Moon let out a strangled sound and covered his faceplate.

Solar laughed softly and leaned back.

"You are so easily to tease." Solar said amused, and Moon just rolled his eyes.

"If it wasn't for you being sick I would already have shoved the pillow into your face." 

"Oh, horrifying." Solar sarcastically vocalized.

Moon gave him a wry smile and hesitated to move closer to him. Solar huffed and moved his elbow to his.

"I'm not afraid of you." Solar blurted out and Moon tilted his head.

"I was just so caught up in my dream that I didn't realize it was you." The bask animatronic tried to explain.

"Do you often dream about your Sun and Moon?"

"No, just sometimes, but not all of them are nightmares. Believe it or not, I actually have a few nice memories of that place."

Moon nodded and glanced at him. Then the blue celestial animatronic drew circles in Solar's hand and closed his eyes. 

Solar smiled softly at him and then slowly leaned his head towards Moon's.

"I had many dreams about that damn Gator." Solar admitted, and Moon raised his brow.

"I'm pretty sure that Gator had a way to get in dreams because they kept trying to sell their things."

Moon barked a laugh. "How? That British Gator can't even tie a knot. Remember when.."

"Moon that Gator was smarter than they let on."

The blue crescent animatronic chuckled. "Actually you're right, our Monty is similar when it comes to that."

There was a comforting silence and slowly Solar's hand intertwined with Moon's.

They stayed like this for a while and eventually Solar felt sleepy again.

Moon noticed that Solar was about to fall asleep, so he slowly moved him to lay down. When he tucked Solar in, he was about to just sit down on the floor and wait for him to wake up.

Solar grabbed Moon's hand and looked up at him with a slight panic.

"Are you going to leave?" Moon shook his head.

"No, you are stuck with me, remember? I just didn't know if I should lay with you."

"If you don't mind?" Solar mumbled.

Moon smiled softly at him and laid down next to him.

The blue celestial turned around, his back facing Solar and Moon felt Solar's hand move to his chest. He pulled Moon towards him and held him close.

"Calling me a cuddle bug, huh?" Moon mumbled silently and laid his hands over Solar's.

He was happy to have someone like Solar.

It didn't take Moon long to fall asleep, but then again, he could sleep anywhere if the crescent animatronic wanted to.

Hours went by, it was closing time and the celestial siblings, Lunar, Sun and Earth were carrying cookies and drinks.

Moon texted Sun and the other two that Solar was sick and should come if they had time.

Sun and Moon developed a habit of watching movies if one of them is sick. Since Earth, Lunar and even Monty came along, the habit of stuck to them as well. And they had to make sure that solar is also involved in this.

Lunar was the first to zoom through the tunnel and jumped on Solar's bed.

"Solar wake up!" Lunar yelled, that startled Moon and Solar.

Lunar let out a little gasp when they realized that Moon was also there.

"Jesus Christ Lunar. Do you always have to scream when you wake us?" Moon mumbled while sitting up.

Lunar muffled his laugh while jumping off the bed.

"Hey Sun I found Moon! He was with Solar the whole time." He yelled through the tunnel.

Solar groaned and covered his faceplate in his hands.

"Can you not scream? My head is killing me." Solar mumbled grumpy.

Lunar let out a little sorry, then Sun and Earth was climbing through the tunnel.

"Moon, have you been here for the past couple of hours?" 

The bright animatronic asked while holding chips and popcorn.

"Yep here the last few hours, why?"

"Well, we actually needed your help since we had another problem with code.. blue." Sun explained and Moon groaned as he let himself fall in bed again.

"Not dealing with this now, tomorrow." He mumbled while closing his eyes again. Solar rolled his eyes, trying not to be amused by this situation.

"How are you feeling, Solar? Any better?" Earth questioned him.

And Moon seemed to be interested in the question as well, since he sat up straight and waited for his answer.

Solar thought about it and he actually felt better. His body didn't ache, and his fans were also way quieter than in the morning.

"I'm actually feeling better."

"Did Moon nurse you back to health?" Lunar asked with a teasing tone.

Moon threw a pillow at him and when it hit Lunar he let out a little 'oof'.

"I mean if it wasn't for him, I would probably still be passed out on the security desk." Solar joked, but the other celestial animatronics didn't seem to find that funny.

Solar let out a nervous laugh before a pillow hit right in his face.

"What the heck, Lunar?"

"You deserved it." Lunar simply mumbled.

"Well, I'm glad Moon found you before that happened." Earth spoke while placing the cookies down on Solar's desk.

"Actually, Ruin found him first." Moon explained and Earth tilted her head.

"I see, I mean he did tell me you both went upstairs to get some rest."

"Do you guys know where he is?" Moon asked genuinely.

Earth shook her head. "No I wanted to, but he was kinda just gone when I was looking for him."

Moon hummed.

"You look awful by the way, Solar." Lunar shot right out and Solar sighed. "Thanks, Lunar."

Lunar was about to jump on his bed again but stopped himself.

"Wait, are you contagious?"

Solar grinned at him. "Oh, very." Then he started to pretend to cough into his elbow. Lunar seemed to be unimpressed and they jumped on the bed.

"He is kinda contagious," Moon said to Lunar, and he stopped jumping and gave Moon the death stare.

Solar chuckled, as he watched Lunar stepping away from him.

"Wait, is he actually contagious?" Earth asked genuinely and Moon nodded.

"Yeah, if you touch him while he sneezes or is glitching out, the virus can spread to you," Moon explained and turned his gaze to the amused animatronic.

"Is that how you got it from Moon, Solar?" Sun asked while Lunar was stealing a cookie from Earth.

"Yep, I'm very contagious. You better watch out." Solar said sarcastically.

"So why are you sitting right next to him, brother?" Sun asked while keeping his distance. 

"Well, actually me and Ruin are now immune to it since our bodies have already experienced it and know how to kill the virus the second it gets in our body. Similar to the human immune system.. more or less." Moon interpreted.

"Soo what are we watching today?" Earth tilted her head as she glanced at Solar.

"It's my turn to pick the movie?" He questioned and Moon nodded.

"If you're sick you can choose."

Solar felt his faceplate heat up, it was just picking a damn movie. Why did that make him feel so embarrassed? Perhaps because it made him feel like he was currently the spotlight of this room.

"I don't know. I don't care what we watch." Solar mumbled.

"I mean if you don't know, we could give you some recommendations," Earth added while smiling softly.

Solar shook his head. "I know what we could watch. But, um are we going to watch it here?"

"Well, we wanted to see if you feel well enough to watch it in the theater?" Sun explained.

"Why did you bring the food in here then?" Moon questioned while watching Lunar eat the cookies.

"Every time we leave the food alone in the theater, Vegeta just steals it." Earth told him.

"You mean that creation of Monty?" Moon cringed while asking.

Earth nodded and Solar got up slowly.

"We can go to the theater." Solar rasped out while holding on Moon's shoulder.

"But I'm not going to deal with Vegeta if they come around." Solar clarified.

They brought blankets and cushions to the theater. The snacks and drinks were lying on the table and Solar watched how everyone got comfortable watching the movie.

Solar glanced over to Moon when he was sitting down next to him.

"What? I told you were stuck with me." Moon nudged him playfully and Solar smiled softly at him.

He wouldn't want it any other way.

________________________________

Homies just cuddling

..and they were roommates

[mariacallous]

That post about using fear of fascism as a weapon to get what you want has pretty much been the white leftist modus operandi for at least the past ten years. It's always a hostage negation with them. "Give me X or I'll use my white privilege to punish minorities with a Republican regime." They did it in 2016, they tried in 2020, and they'll do it again this year.

At the end of the day, white leftists are mad that they represent the smallest voting bloc of the Democratic Party. They come from Republican families. They were raised their entire lives believing they should be in control of things and that Democrats are weak and inefficient. So when they're confronted with the fact that the base of the Democratic Party are Black and Jewish liberals, they throw temper tantrums. They scream that Democrats need to give them what they want, earn their vote or else they'll go right back to being Republicans, and the more minorities that are hurt the better. It's leftist white supremacy.

If nothing else, the silver lining since 10/7 has been that it's exposed this side of the left. White leftists are nobody's friend, and are toxic to any progressive cause they touch. Democrats win when they listen to Black people (specifically Black women). They lose when they listen to white leftists.

Despite Team Uncommitted's nonsense, Biden has over-performed in the primaries (the most primary votes of any incumbent president in history), whereas Trump has consistently lost 1/5th of every Republican voter in any state primary where Haley's been on the ballot. I don't think leftists have realized they've radicalized a lot of liberals just as much as Magas have. I've seen a lot of liberals who've been showing up to vote in primaries just to stick it to the left.

I do try to keep in mind that the most vocal and obnoxious of leftists and progressives are a minority of a minority of people, but it is frustrating for sure.

[rist-ix]

What is Valtor (tbhtbh) love language?

I wanna say War Crimes And Violence for the shits and giggles, but this has made me think and I do think it’s a little more complex than that. My second answer would have been gift giving — as someone whose entire identity revolves around taking things by force, giving something freely to someone else is the highest gesture of affection imaginable — but even that feels more like a side affect than his actual expressions of love.

I think across all my fics, and Tbhtbh especially, Valtor's love language boils down to Control. In little ways, like in Sparked, where he has this constant desire to be the one who controls Bloom's studies and progress and overall access to information. Or in big and obvious ways in tbhtbh, like literally imprisoning her in a tower and regulating every detail of her day. (Paperwork too of course, Valtor has an obvious ego-boner for being the invisible force behind bloom's throne, of being needed)

You could probably dig really deep into that too, given that his relationship with his mothers consisted of almost nothing BUT control. His experiences with “””love””” are very much shaped by being physically dependent on the whims of his creators. I don’t necessarily mean that in an “that’s the love he experienced so it’s the only way he can express his own” way, because, well, he's not an idiot. He hates them and is very aware that their control only made him more eager to kill them. I mean it more akin to “he is resentful of the idea of being controlled, so now he sees every relationship as an arms race of controlling the other / he wants to compensate for that feeling of powerless then by feeling in control now”. Add to that that he is pretty much invulnerable at this point in tbhtbh, and his only remaining weakness is his emotional dependence on Bloom — which he is aware of. Just like he was aware of his mothers' ability to decimate him on a whim, he knows that Bloom could put him back into that mad state of agony should she die or escape again. A state he has lived in for three years and has no desire to return to. I just love to torment this little freak okay? He's so tormentable!!!

I think most of his other love language vocabularies tie back into his control issues in one way or another. As mentioned before, he likes to give gifts — I could go into an essay of its own about how that ties into his canon schtick and modus operandi, but I’ll stick to tbhtbh here.

He keeps Bloom's clothes and gives them back to her? For one because he knows she likes her clothes and misses the good old days, for the other because it reminds her of how those good old days ended — with him burning down Alfea. T-pose to assert dominance, yadda yadda.

He shows Bloom the garden? Well, that one gift she can’t take with her should she run away again. He controls Domino, the garden is ON Domino, if she wants to enjoy it she is by definition tied to this place and him.

And then there’s the entire rest of it, like the pretty room and the food and the fancy soaps and so on that are in her room. He is quite literally in charge of everything she has access to, and he doesn’t fail to remind her of that.

And, of course, we cannot forget that he loves to hear himself talk, so another way he expresses affection is by saying so. Constantly. He is being objectively cruel to Bloom in everything he does, but he never misses an opportunity to express how much he missed her, admires her, respects her prowess in combat and enjoys her company. Talk is cheap and he is a big fat liar when he feels like it, but in this he is 100% genuine and he knows Bloom knows that.

Great ask, Supreme!!! Sorry for the late answer, I already had like two paragraphs written a month ago, but tumblr deleted it and I got frustrated lol

[posttexasstressdisorder]

Saturday, 12-21-24, 7pm Pacific

SPECIAL ANNOUNCEMENT:

'Evenin', everyone. This is your faithful Bringer of The Tunes of Yore, your intrepid DJ, Mr. Baggins, signing off for...a while.

I'll be taking these next ten days off, hopefully you might think them well-deserved. I've been doing these three shows a day for a good long while with no break, as I've been mulling over my (and our) future.

I started Radio Free Tumblr as a way to help keep everyone's morale up while the shitshow progresses, and to spend less time "DOOMSCROLLING" all the bad news, since my personal situation is still so dire I don't need any more bringing-down.

I also started it to give me more time for myself, but in reality, it has turned into a full-time, all-day job for me to come up with these three shows a day, mostly just picking things out of my own memory and following the breadcrumbs. It's a creative process that, unfortunately, takes as much of a toll as anything else.

As a result, your intrepid DJ is One Tired Mofo. I'll be taking the rest of the year off to do some recouping and more thinking about what I want to do with this blog.

It's been difficult for me to think about going back to the trenches and being as on-the-front-lines as I was. I know I've probably disappointed some of you, going from being so vocal and sure of everything, to pulling back and essentially rolling into a ball like a pangolin while I've tried to figure this out.

And I've had some shame over that, as well. It feels like I've failed y'all in some ways. Please know I didn't "give up"...I was just thrown so far off track by the election debacle I couldn't see a way forward and I let it get to me. My usual modus operandi when something like that happens is to retreat into The Music until I figure it all out, and Radio Free Tumblr was a way y'all could come along for the ride, as it were.

We are on the cusp of a very strange time, and I still believe that somehow we will pull through this stronger, but I'm still having difficulty with seeing a way forward. I hope these next ten days will help make it clearer in my mind.

The shows will stay posted and up, so if there were some you really enjoyed and want to hear again, just go to my Archive page, and they're all there, from the beginning posts in the aftermath of that first week of November forward.

And I wanna give a very heart-felt THANK YOU to everyone who's enjoyed what I've done with The Music here this past couple of months...that makes me feel good, knowing that conjuring this music up out of my memory banks and following the creative breadcrumbs from the universe has maybe helped some of y'all smile and have a better day.

So...until next time...be kind, babies, be kind.

Baggins out.

[sgiandubh]

It's all fake, anyway

Oh, my. The last two or three video snippets in Marina del Rey. The revolt. The pearl-clutching. The hate.

Again, you know nothing, Jon Snow. It's all about the medium being the message, again: carefully calibrated snippets of information, destined to a captive, deeply divided and (how can I put that without sounding offending, I wonder) unexperimented (yes, that's decent enough) audience.

During the last 24 hours, we've got the Marina del Rey gin promo & MPC teambuilding (hardly an orgy, btw) and C's MUA (or is it hairdresser? irrelevant) hinting on Instagram about a photoshoot at a gin distillery in a #beautifullocation, somewhere on Earth, presumably in Scotland - given her last IG follow. No further details, of course. Very probably a (late-) latergram, too, when she finally got the green light to publish it. Implying nothing, but leaving a boulevard bandwidth for people to infer whatever suits their own narrative. Expect FMN news soon? I highly doubt that and stand corrected: the last photoshoot (with McSideburns, in London) was on May 3rd, when she needed to somehow show the world the Two of Them were continents apart. Identical modus operandi. And always, always via tertiary players.

As for the Marina del Rey teambuilding, if you think that is 'S living his life' you are: a) living in a remote mountain/island area or under a rock; b) an impenitent Mordorian with an agenda to boot or c) incredibly incompetent with the way of the world (or at least, that world). Allow me to translate?

It is alcohol promo, duckies, disguised as teambuilding. The intended message is aimed at a younger, non-OL related audience (as I already warned you) and it roughly goes like this:

'we are a fun loving, no nonsense, start-up business in the spirits industry. Because we don't have a huge advertising budget, we're testing the waters with a cheap, reality-TV snippet to better evaluate the number of social media clicks and new followers and help gauge & calibrate the next step'.

Was it poorly executed? Yeah, you could say that, but then what to do, in a very restrictive, highly regulated tobacco & spirits advertising market, hum? Is it my cup of tea? I don't drink, therefore this type of message touches one ball without really moving the other.

Yes. Start-up business: if we take into account the COVID logistic delay, I believe we're still in that three-years frame. And this detail is essential in order to put context around a very forgettable snippet. Selling a brand-new, more democratic product. Selling it clumsily, in an effort to build relevance, because even bad advertising is, ultimately, good advertising. But make no mistake: it's nothing more than that and it is all they can do, in the current context.

This brings to mind another aspect of the charade, namely the fact that after the Remarkable Week-end (and with the exception of some carefully scripted 'slips'), released and available information progressively became (at least) two-tiered.

First tier: information carefully calibrated for immediate release and general consumption, primarily but not exclusively by the fandom. This includes: spirits shilling, innuendos galore, look-here-not-there latergrams. It also entails less direct interaction with the fans on socials and delegating the media management to secondary players (often called to the rescue, too).

Second tier: public information with a limited availability (you have to take the plunge and pay), for sleuths able and willing to go the extra mile. They paint a very different landscape. And draw two copycat timelines of people who are investing, buying and selling property and overall branching out of their primary source of income with a plan.

I am not a photo sleuth. But with a little bit of time on my hands, I am a decent paperwork analyst. Accounting is not my forte, but legal and business is. I saw what I needed to see and it holds.

So before you start screeching (bad idea, right?), remember this (credit given to @dillon7fan, thanks):

Not really: it is doctored make believe. Bless your heart, honest guy.

Next stop, Tehran. Yes, you read that correctly.

This evening or tomorrow, at the latest. Because context is everything and this fandom severely fails at this.