#not sure if her name is actually Marissa because truth be told I care as little as Neil does about it

[incaustum]

I laugh every time I think about Marissa calling Neil interesting and his brain immediately going “Andrew used to think that about me 👉🏻👈🏻 I wonder if he’ll still think that when he gets back :(” and bro still didn’t realise he was in deep

[florrickandassociates]

TGF Thoughts: 4x03-- The Gang Gets a Call from HR

Under the cut! 

We pick up with a reminder of where we left off last week: Xo’s restaurant being torn down. (Captions call her “Martha” but I’m fairly certain her name is “Marta” on this show)

Diane confronts Canning and taunts him with the deep pockets of STR Laurie. Canning is unfazed and Diane leaps into action. Diane thinks things are going to go her way.

Frank Landau is in reception and Marissa spots him and immediately unleashes an intense series of verbal attacks about how Eli shouldn’t send messengers if he has something to say and how she might marry a Republican. She rants and rants until Adrian shows up to greet Frank. For once, he’s not here to make Marissa’s life harder.

I do love moments like this. One, they’re hilarious. Two, Marissa thinking he MUST be there for her and also referencing her dad is just fantastic.

Landau is really there to talk to Adrian and Liz (and pointedly not Diane) about the DNC’s efforts to engage black voters. Landau wants RBL to come up with a strategy. As Adrian points out, this is a question for a PR firm. But Landau wants RBL-- they’re a black run firm and they’ve worked with the DNC before (though they fired Liz from the impeachment thing-- did we know that?), and, most importantly, they come with attorney-client privilege. 

“Dammit!” Jay exclaims when he can’t find the injunction for Diane’s case in the system. “I just told our top client to fuck off; whatever you’re dealing with can’t be worse,” Marissa responds. Heh.

Marissa can’t find it either.

God bless the loud beeping noise that happens whenever anyone can’t find a legal document. No one would have their sound on (okay, maybe Diane would) which makes this little detail hilarious to me. 

The system says the case doesn’t exist. Before Jay can investigate further, Adrian tells him he’s needed in the conference room. Jay wonders what’s wrong. Then Adrian goes to collect Lucca, who is chatting with Bianca (their convo is friendly but basically sounds like a rehash of what we saw last ep, with Lucca being like “I am a real person who has to do work” and Bianca being like “But being rich is fun!”). Lucca also asks what’s wrong and Adrian wants to know why everyone keeps asking that. Uh, because you interrupted them with a vague urgent request? That always raises red flags…

Jay goes to Diane before he reports to the conference room and shows her that the case she argued a couple of days prior doesn’t exist. This reminds me of Kresteva’s mind game but on a much bigger, scarier level.

Landau asks all the black employees of the firm, who have been gathered in the conference room, what the biggest issue facing black people today is. This feels exceedingly inappropriate. Helping the DNC brainstorm isn’t part of the job description of a lawyer (or a mailroom attendee) and it doesn’t sound like this meeting was voluntary. And who is going to be open about this with their bosses and a client present?! 

“Lack of voting rights,” someone finally volunteers. Racism and police brutality get added to the list too, as does institutional racism. 

When Landau asks what the Democratic Party is doing to combat racism, the room begins to buzz and Jay speaks up to say the DNC is doing “jack shit to combat racism.” He wants to know where the policies are if the DNC cares so much.

Lucca tries to walk his point back by saying Democrats are trying, but one of the mailroom guys pipes up and says he doesn’t feel like the Party is talking to him or giving him a reason to miss work to vote. It is ridiculous that election day isn’t a national holiday.

Landau steps out for a moment and Adrian asks the room to tone down the DNC bashing. I feel like this is an unwinnable situation. If the people in the room speak up and say the truth it’s offending the client; if they don’t then they aren’t providing the insights needed. I know this plot exists mostly so our characters can have this convo but oof, this is not the right setting for this conversation. 

Marissa shows up in Julius’s chambers and he’s happy to see her. She says things at STR Laurie (or “STD Laurie” as the very mature RBL employees call it) are weird.

Marissa wants info on Marta’s case. Julius can’t find it in the system either and gets the same loud beep sound. Julius awkwardly denies ruling on it, then Diane walks in. Julius gets flustered and says he’s no longer on the case and doesn’t remember the case. “Are you fucking serious?” Diane responds. “Don’t swear at me!” Julius says. “I never used to swear, ever, but now I find it useful. People look at me and think I would never swear so when I say this is fucking nuts it has added meaning and this is fucking nuts,” Diane says. Love it. Also, I think TGF does a pretty good job of having some characters swear for impact and others (looking at you Lucca) swear all the time. 

Julius does NOT like being suspected and says to “talk to Adrian’s girlfriend”.

Meanwhile at RBL, the topic is now maternal mortality. A male employee mentions that black women don’t need to be mobilized (I assume he means because they are the most reliably blue voters) and that causes cross-talk. This is one of the more interesting “everyone at RBL debate!” episodes but I don’t think the writers will ever tire of showing that an issue is controversial by getting two sentences into a debate and then having it turn into cross-talk.

Jay jumps in and changes the topic to reparations. The room gets quiet. Lucca says it’ll never happen. Hey, Rosalyn is back!!! Lots of familiar faces in this room. 

Okay I am not going to transcribe this whole discussion but it’s interesting.

All three name partners get called up to talk to Mr. Firth. 

“Whenever I see offices like this, I always think that we’re all gonna be dead some day,” Liz remarks before Mr. Firth enters. Adrian and Diane laugh and Mr. Firth walks in and asks what’s funny. The joke doesn’t land.

Mr. Firth launches into another story I don’t understand or care to listen to. The real issue is that STR Laurie thinks that RBL is billing the DNC incorrectly (RBL is getting more than STR Laurie). STR Laurie isn’t supposed to know what RBL is charging as part of the transition plan in the merger, but Mr. Firth clearly does not give a fuck about honoring that agreement. Pretty clear who has power and who is backed into a corner. This agreement was supposed to “encourage trust” but something tells me STR Laurie doesn’t actually care about encouraging trust all that much. 

After the awkward meeting, Diane, who is just now hearing of the DNC’s business, asks Liz and Adrian if it is old business (RBL’s) or new (STR Laurie’s). It could be argued either way, Liz and Adrian admit.Liz is more concerned that STR Laurie is looking at RBL’s books when they shouldn’t be. She goes to put Marissa on the case.

Diane takes this opportunity to ask Adrian about his girlfriend. Adrian explains he just wants to keep his private life private. I’ve heard that one before. Adrian tells Diane about “Memo 618” and that it intimidated Julius.

CREDITS, FINALLY. I am going to take a break and watch Zoey’s Extraordinary Playlist, a show I’ve somehow gotten hooked on despite it being completely mediocre and something I would’ve dumped after three episodes in non-quarantine times. 

And I’m back, two days later lol

Bar-Swarm’s interface looks outdated. Diane knows how to use it, though, and asks the interwebs what Memo 618 is.

Meanwhile, Marissa refers to STR Laurie as “STD Laurie” in a conversation with Adrian. She doesn’t even realize she’s doing it, which makes the joke even better. Liz and Adrian are very amused.

Marissa narrows the potential list of STR Laurie (I gotta start shortening this-- STRL?) spies down to one, a Caleb Garland who is 39 years old and used to be in the Army.

Now Diane’s case is in Judge Hazelwood’s courtroom. Canning refers to the previous trial and Diane, knowing the last case had no paper trail, insists this is the first time the case is being tried. Canning doesn’t know how to respond and it’s pretty amusing to watch him squirm. Canning really is the perfect antagonist for this case. Kresteva would’ve worked too.

The Reparations convo, and cross-talk, continue. I hate to “case stuff happens” some of the most thought provoking stuff of the ep but, again, I have nothing to add.

Adrian mentions there’s a model for reparations in Chicago and tells the story and explains the model.

The debate Landau requested is too heated for him, because he totally didn’t expect that black voters are a diverse group with differing viewpoints, and Landau thinks the solution is… to add white people to the conversation for diversity. You know, to “gauge how the ideas are landing.” The ideas they are thinking through to help the DNC motivate black voters.

Mayyyyybeeee, just maybe, the problem is that this white dude is commissioning black employees of a law firm to do emotional labor while also treating them as a monolith and being afraid to actually listen to him? And that he’s making it seem like what black people have to say is only important if white people agree? Maybe just maybe that’s part of the problem too???

Caleb is peeling a rutabaga on a game; seems pretty silly. He and Marissa chat, and she asks him why he’s on the RBL floor before I can type out the same question. He tells Marissa he’s there as a spy but he’s not a very good spy. I’m like 99.9% sure Marissa says these same words to Alicia in season six when she shows up to be the bodywoman. 

Marissa and Caleb-- who no one even knows-- join the big DNC meeting because they are white. This seems like a good use of resources.

David Lee gets to be in the conversation, and manages to both snark and take it kind of seriously. Have we ever had it confirmed that David Lee is Jewish? I know Veronica made some comments, but Marissa’s comments here make it seem much clearer he’s supposed to be Jewish. 

Adrian tells a story that Vernon Jordan once told him, and the story uses the n-word. I think we may have heard this story on TGF before, does anyone remember?

Diane’s case is back. The actual particulars of it barely matter and I hope Marta gets more to do going forward and doesn’t just disappear. Judge Hazelwood, too, gets Memo 618, and things stop going Diane’s way. Hazelwood gets pissed when Diane brings up Memo 618 in court. She holds Diane in contempt and swears. Yikes. 

Lucca gets a call to go to the HR department that FINALLY exists now that RBL has corporate overlords. She’s there because there’s been a complaint about Adrian. Before hearing the details, Lucca’s asked not to share the details and she says she can’t promise them anything. HR still shares the complaint-- Adrian used the n-word. Lucca looks amused but HR is SUPER serious about this. A black man used the n-word. Seems like… not a big deal to me? Depending on the context, of course. 

Still no results for Memo 618. And when Diane searches “What is Memo 618?” (which is an extremely specific string but ok) her computer shuts itself off. Is… is that possible? I think I just have to accept that TGF is going to do whatever it wants with tech.

Lucca immediately goes to Liz and Adrian to tell Liz (while Adrian is conveniently there) about the situation. “Apparently STR Laurie has a zero tolerance policy on inappropriate language,” Lucca explains. 

Adrian suspects Caleb; Marissa disagrees because she trusts him already. (This is also making me wonder-- David Lee isn’t RBL, yet he was in the meeting… why?)

Marissa is then instructed to feed Caleb a lie.

Jay’s computer also encounters the issue (and all the accompanying sound effects) with Bar-Swarm and calls it targeted malware. 

Marissa, extremely clumsily (and potentially intentionally clumsily), feeds Caleb the lie. 

HR’s interviewing everyone. Most people say they weren’t offended; one woman says she thinks some people might not have liked it but she thinks running to HR is an overreaction. HR says they’re there to help and hold people accountable. Fine line between holding people accountable and making mountains out of molehills in an effort to be thorough. (Without seeing-- or remembering-- how HR ends up handling this I can’t really say they’re doing a bad job… though I feel like a situation like this probably doesn’t need to involve interviewing so many employees because one or two accounts should suffice to make it clear Adrian was telling a story and quoting someone. And also this does feel like a lot of white people who are unequipped to resolve workplace racial disputes.)

(Also isn’t the real HR problem that the employees were basically being forced into a conference room to have a debate about their own feelings and backgrounds?) 

ADDITIONALLY the HR lady is the scary-ass nurse from Evil. Yikes. That hospital episode is one of the more terrifying-- and interesting-- things I’ve seen in ages. 

Jay repeats the story to HR. They look surprised, like it’s the first time they’re hearing this. No one else told HR the story? 

Somehow this HR complaint gets back to Vernon Jordan. Ok, taking back what I said, this HR complaint has gone too far. I think they can hear from Jay’s story, which literally every RBL employee can confirm, what Adrian’s point was. And what does it matter if the story really came from Jordan or not?! This is egregious overreach that feels more like office politics than anything else.

Yeah, Adrian’s convo with Mr. Firth makes it pretty clear this is a power play to show Adrian he no longer runs things. It’s not really about his language; that’s just a pretext for STRL to send a warning shot. 

Now everyone has to take a class on racial sensitivity and Mr. Firth is lecturing Adrian about how “charged” the n-word is, which sets Adrian off. I feel like it’s pretty objective to say that Adrian knows the meaning and power of the n-word better than Mr. Firth. 

Adrian ponders quitting in one of his late night talks with Liz. I love their convos. They talk about their marriage (suddenly it occurs to me-- somehow it hasn’t before!-- that this is the kind of dynamic I imagine Alicia and Peter would have post divorce) as well as the topic at hand. Liz points out they’ll never fire Adrian for using the n-word in a quote because it sounds ridiculous and STRL has its own issues (they apparently took a group photo without black people and then PHOTO SHOPPED IN BLACK PEOPLE which… that’s worse, guys!!!). “They bought us to put us in their pictures,” they recognize. (They had to have known this going in-- still don’t quite understand why they sold; still don’t think the show will ever care to answer this question.) 

Liz tells Adrian to just do what he wants. 

Then Jay brings up the HR complaint in another group meeting and wants to know who filed the complaint. This ALSO seems inappropriate. 

Someone suspects David Lee; David Lee would never file the complaint because he hates HR. 

More interesting debate continues. Again, nothing to say, but really appreciate hearing all of this.

Oh now Landau is here in the middle of the intrafirm shitstorm.

It was Madeline, one of the equity partners, who made the complaint to make a point. Or at least it seems likely she did. She believes every black person should have a choice not to hear it at the workplace. I don’t really get an opinion here but that sounds like a valid point to me. It also goes back to the whole, “maybe a forced all staff convo about race is not a good idea…” thing. 

Adrian suggests that they could have talked privately instead of having it escalated to HR. His tone is kind of condescending but his point seems fair to me, though I think it’s up to an individual to decide if they think a complaint is for HR or not. If they don’t feel comfortable bringing up the point with their boss, that is what HR is for. 

It sounds like Madeline is a little bitter, too, about Adrian selling the firm. She’d be losing money, based on what we heard last week, so the bitterness makes sense. If she’s the one who submitted the complaint, it seems likely she had a reason to be upset with Adrian’s use of the word and also a point to make about how Adrian no longer makes the rules. 

Madeline also says that Jay bringing all of this into the open is called intimidation. I don’t think she’s wrong.

Landau, of course, sees all of this, and shuts things down despite Adrian and Liz telling him their employees are just “passionate.” Wow. This resolution might even lead one to think that having a law firm conduct an unstructured, seemingly mandatory debate about a personal and controversial topic is a bad strategy for getting things done! Who ever could have imagined it would lead to infighting and cross-talk? 

LOL at these sensitivity trainings and at Jay’s reaction to the watermelon example. 

Lucca is always so aware of rank in a really consistent way. It’s not so much that she craves status like an early season Cary-type might; she’s just very aware of where she ranks and who has power and what systems are at play. 

Adrian, Liz, and Diane (who’s barely had anything to do this episode) click through the sensitivity training slides very quickly. They’re definitely reading the slides.

Caleb goes to Liz and says he wants to be second chair on a case. Interesting. Curious where his character is going. 

Jay discovers the malware is coming from INSIDE THE OFFICE! It’s an STRL ploy! And we end with a very dramatic shot of Diane looking up at the ceiling. 

[irwintry]

How to Attract a Sea Bear

Warnings: swearing, alcohol

Author’s Note: 1. Play the clarinet badly 2. Wave a flashlight back and forth really fast (flashlights are their natural prey) 3. Stomp on the ground (they take it as a challenge) 4. Eat cubed cheese – sliced is safe 5. Wear a sombrero in a goofy fashion 6. Wear clown shoes 7. Wear a hoop skirt 8. Screech like a chimpanzee 9. Run (makes them attack again) 10. Limp (worse than running) 11. Crawl (worse than limping)

Word Count: 6k

But now I am Six, I'm as clever as clever, So I think I'll be six now forever and ever.”

― A.A. Milne, Now We Are Six

-

Up until Luke, there were two types of people in the world. Those who were family (the ones who had to love you unconditionally no matter how many walls you scribbled Patrick Star on) and those who were your classmates. Close friends weren’t in the picture yet. Though public school had been going on for nearly two years now, you were perfectly content with keeping to yourself in the back of the classroom. A sheet of paper and a crayon were enough to keep you happy.

And then, Luke Hemmings had to come and ruin it all.

It was his first day of school after moving to town, and he decided to waltz right up to you and compliment your drawing of the Krusty Krab. If you had kept your mouth shut, you weren’t sure what would have happened. Maybe he would have kept bothering you. But instead, you said “thank you”, and he sat down right at your table while you went on about his funny accent. The other kids stared, of course. You never talked to anyone! Not even the teacher.

When you asked your parents if you could have Luke over for a playdate, they nearly cried. You took the time to introduce him to all of your toys, and he listened. And he was willing to play with them! No one could believe it. Of all of the people on the earth to become your first best friend, they were thrilled to know that it was the nicest one possible.

Slumber parties were common, mostly so the two of you could watch cartoons together the next morning with Eggo waffles or Lucky Charms. Couches became forts while your parents tried their best not to think of the future potential the friendship could have. It was hard not to hope for their child to love someone as wonderful as Luke was to you.

First years became second years, then third to fourth, and nothing changed between the two of you. You couldn’t imagine it ever changing. Not at all.

-

“He was thirteen that year, the age when children splinter off and abandon the old loves.” ― Mark Costello

-

“If you don’t change the channel, I’ll sit on your face and suffocate you.”

“Thank god you said you’d kill me, otherwise that doesn’t sound like much of a threat.”

Luke had been in this situation with you a million times. Your place or his– he was used to constant back-and-forth banter. If there was no banter, then the two of you were most likely not together. The friendship of crude humor and gross farts had only just entered teendom, though Luke couldn’t imagine a thing would change. He knew you didn’t have cooties, and vice versa (he hoped). It didn’t matter. The seven-years-in-the-making friendship meant more than the jokes of scrawny preteens.

“I give you four seconds,” he said.

“Why four?”

“Three... two...”

“That’s a dumb– “

“One!” Luke pounced on you, his arms darting to taser your sides as you screamed and squirmed. Meanwhile, the two capri-suns had fallen to the hardwood with a small splat. “Stop screeching like a damn chimp,” he hissed, but he couldn’t hold in his laughter. “Sea bears don’t like that.”

“Don’t– “ You gasped for air, and finally, you were able to kick him off of you. The remote had dropped down to the floor beside the leaking drink pouches. “Don’t care. I’ll screech like a damn chimp if I wanna.”

“Your mum’s gonna hate that you swore.”

“Your mum is gonna hate that you swore.” You glanced down to the fallen heroes beside you. “You owe me a new Roarin’ Waters.”

“Only if you put on Spongebob.”

“Fine.”

Things were as simple as that. Luke never had to worry about upsetting you, nor you with him, and it all narrowed down to the similar personalities that had developed throughout the past three years. If Luke didn’t have you, he wouldn’t know who he would be.

He had a premonition– a hopeful tug at his heart when he thought what was to come between the two of you. Maybe it had been this way all along. Every side glance or puckered expression made sense in his mind. The humor the two of you shared was unlike any other, and he simply couldn’t fathom the possibility that someone else out there would one day share it with you as well. Luke had never considered himself a jealous person until the few times at your locker or during lunch when he wasn’t the only one in your world.

How could he have let himself get this attached to someone? It would take him years to know.

-

“Did I think he was “the one?” I’ll never know. At sixteen, everyone is “the one.”

― K.A. Tucker, Ten Tiny Breaths

-

It was a rare occurrence for you to keep a secret from Luke. You told him about your celebrity crushes and your desire to write fanfiction (there were minor judgments on his part). You told him about the darker sides to your parents’ divorce, and you always opened up to him about whatever insecurity was going through your mind. However, when your friend Hailey asked you who you though the hottest guy in school was, you knew you would never be able to let him know that you had said his name.

It was the age of formals and sappy first dates, though you still felt too young to understand the complexity of relationships. While everyone else was exploring new ways to make-out, you were too busy trying to get comfortable with yourself. Tight jeans, flannel shirts, and skater shoes were the keys to unlocking the ultimate prize when it came to high school. And Luke, well, the ultimate prize had won him.

You became the way to his heart. In order to get to him, everyone had to get through you. At first, being the gatekeeper didn’t seem all that bad. You controlled who was worthy. If they had done a few sketchy things within the past year, then Luke – through your words – just so happened to not have feelings for them.

As the year went on, more people were turned away, and things became, well, weird. Truth be told, every single person who went to you to seek out Luke was told he, unfortunately, was not interested in them, even if it wasn’t true. You were speaking through jealousy, not facts, and you never figured he would catch on.

So, when he did, naturally, it blew up in your face.

“Did you actually tell Marissa McKee that I didn’t like her?”

The walk home had been silent for quite some time. You could tell his outburst had been building ever since school let out.

“Like, what the actual fuck, Y/N?”

You huffed, stuffing your hands into the pockets of your fluffy sweatshirt. “H-how was I supposed t’know that you liked her?”

Luke chuckled dryly. “Jesus. I told you two weeks ago! You’re supposed to know because we’re best friends. Best friends know that shit. Best friends don’t tell the person their friend likes that they don’t like them back.”

“’m sorry.”

“How could you not know?” he continued. “Like– Jesus.”

You couldn’t figure out what else to say, and neither could Luke. The two of you parted ways a moment later once you turned on his block, and then it was only another neighborhood over in order to get to your place.

It wasn’t rocket science, but you couldn’t figure it out at the time. All you knew was that it possibly had something to do with calling him the hottest guy in school, but you left it at that.

-

“I wish," he said, "I had known at eighteen what I know now - that there are some things on which one does not compromise.”

― Mary Balogh, Simply Perfect

-

“Don’t eat that,” Luke said, voice rushed as his hand jumped to grasp yours. He had a point about his itchy sweater; the red, wool material scratched your skin, albeit barely grazing it. “Do you want to attract a sea bear? ‘m not a big fan of having to clean up blood from my mum’s carpets.”

You tried to keep a straight face as you lifted the cubed cheese off of the tray despite Luke’s request. “The final touch,” you mumbled and set a bland cracker just under the Swiss cube.

His eyes widened. “You’re a dumbass. A real, lactose-intolerant dumbass.”

“Shut up,” you replied with a smirk. But the cubed cheese wasn’t as good as you were hoping it would be.

The Hemmings Christmas parties carved the path for your favorite time of year. Somehow, the snow knew when to fall as ugly sweaters gathered in the living room you used to watch Teen Titans in. Cocktails and hors-d'oeuvres were served on platters, and children danced around legs longer than their own height. And the decorations... sometimes, you had no words. Everything had a place, and everything had a purpose.

This year, your nerves were on high alert. In years past, you and Luke would spend the majority of the night by each other’s side, making snide comments or talking “grown up” with other adults. His girlfriend came into the picture months ago. Nevertheless, she was invited, and she was late. You didn’t know what to do once she got here.

Luke’s nerves were also on high alert. It was the first time Lara was meeting his family, and her lack of punctuality was already not making a great impression. The funny part of it all was the fact that cared more about your impression overall. He needed your approval, whether he wanted to believe it or not. You were the only person who knew him better than he did.

The air stiffened when Lara walked in. Luke didn’t know why he noticed it, but he had, and maybe it was because he knew you better than you knew yourself as well. He could sense every dropped composure or change in expression. He convinced himself it was the twelve years of friendship that caused him to read you so intently. But he couldn’t let all of this bother him.

He hardly saw you throughout the next few hours of the night. And then, it was charades time.

“Ready to have your ass kicked for the fifth year in a row, Lukey?” you said with a smile so sweet it could melt anyone with eyes into a sugary puddle.

Luke shrugged, and his shoulders itched with the movement of his sweater. “Can you even reach my ass?”

“I have my secrets.” You plopped down into the chair across from him and began scribbling down ideas onto tiny slips of paper.

“A secret to reaching my ass? That sounds– “

“Hey, shut it,” said Liz, but she had cracked a smile. “Let’s get on with the game.”

You prided yourself in being the ultimate charades actor. Luke, on the other hand, could hardly figure out how to act out Ghostbusters. But, like you had a secret to reaching his ass, he had a secret to stumping you and your team. It was a miracle it even worked.

“Shit,” you muttered, reading the slip of paper in between your small fingers. Your eyes met his and immediately hardened into a glare. “Die.”

Luke burst into a small fit of laughter, and he hardly felt Lara’s grip on his hand loosen as he focused all of his attention onto you. With a sigh, you held up six fingers.

“Six words,” said his uncle. “Shit, really?”

You rolled your eyes before bringing your hands in front of you to begin acting. You tried your best to look as though you were playing clarinet, though a few other instruments had been shouted out as you kept going. A moment later, you were stomping and holding up the tray of cubed cheese while pounding on your chest like a damn chimp. Luke made sure he took a mental picture of this. He could never forget this moment.

“Time’s up,” Liz yelled through the loud chatter. “What the actual hell was that?”

You narrowed your eyes at your blond best friend and spat, “how to attract a fucking sea bear,” before running over to his spot on the couch to tackle him. His chest hurt from the laughter booming from his lungs, and he could hardly feel his face aside from the occasional burning of his cheeks.

Someone mumbled “that’s seven words”, but neither of you could hear as he attempted to push you off of him. Luke’s senses were overwhelmed. The loud laughing and shouting of the small yet crowded room, plus you being practically on top of his lap at the same time, were sending his brain into some euphoric state.

And somehow, he knew it would all come crashing down.

Lara took him aside moments later. “If you want to keep me around– “

Luke didn’t like where this was going.

“–you will keep your hands off of Y/N.”

Luke didn’t know how to say no.

-

“Everyone, at nineteen, is dumb and beautiful in equal parts...”

― Raphael Kadushin

-

need iced coffee rn

wanna come?

Luke had his comforter pushed up to his nose. Being home for the holidays meant feet dangling off of childhood beds, his mother’s infamous casseroles, and best of all, plenty of time to spend with you. He rubbed his tired eyes before slowly sitting up to answer your text.

You buying?

He replied and sighed, rubbing his neck and pushing his weight out of the twin-sized bed. The small murmur of chatter from the kitchen filled his ears, and if he was honest, he didn’t want to join the conversation. All Luke wanted was a long drive with you.

like hell

i’m drivin bitch

gimme gas $$

Luke chuckled at your response as he dug through his bottom drawer for a thin sweatshirt.

Fine I’m in

The next few minutes were filled with wandering around the small (and quite dirty) confines of his carpeted bedroom and humming along to whatever song popped into his sleepy brain. Your car was in the driveway before he realized, and soon, the familiar obnoxious honking bounced around the four walls.

“Luke, tell Y/N to shut the hell up!” shouted Liz from the kitchen, but it was all fun.

He let out another laugh before rushing into the living room and out of the house with a squeaky “g’bye”. You continued honking even when he clambered into the passenger seat, and a part of him wanted to let you keep going. You were smiling so damn big.

“Shut the fuck up,” he said, hitting your hand away from the steering wheel. “Liz was seconds away from beating you up.”

“Tell her I want that,” you replied before pressing resume on whatever song had been playing on your phone. “If Liz can take me in a fight, then I don’t need goals. Like, I’m set for life after that.”

“Oh, but fighting me is just second nature?”

You shrugged as you began backing out of the driveway. “Yeah, I mean, you’re weak, so...”

“Fuck you.”

“Bet ya wish ya could.”

“I– “ Luke didn’t have a comeback, so he cut himself off.

You gasped. “Does that mean you actually want to fuck me?”

“No!” he exclaimed, his voice jumping up to a much higher octave (which usually occurred whenever he had to defend himself... it was either that, or he was lying).

You giggled, like you usually did when pressing his buttons, and then turned the music up.

Luke hadn’t thought much about sex without anyone else since breaking things off with Lara many months ago. It was tragic but true. No one consumed his mind; he hardly had the time to focus on fancying anyone. He knew how to satisfy himself enough, though Luke couldn’t help but wonder if he was broken. The thought only overwhelmed his mind for a split moment– your poor dancing to the Jonas Brothers distracted him meanwhile.

And then, he was thinking about you.

No, he hadn’t thought about fucking you. For the majority of his life, you felt like family. Hell, you were treated exactly like family. Somehow, along those lines, he still recognized the fact that you were special to him and only him. Years ago, he would have thought it weird to think about you in bed. He still thought it weird, but the more it washed over him, the less acidic the idea tasted on his tongue.

Luke could force the feelings away if he truly wanted to. He could forget he ever spent a moment thinking about you in this way. But instead, he grabbed your dainty hand, wedging his own fingers in between yours before slipping back into the new future his brain was conjuring up for him.

Most of all, you would have no idea that his skin flushed at the thought of spending an evening with you.

-

“He was twenty. I remembered twenty. I'd known everything at twenty. It took me another year to realize I knew nothing.”

― Laurell K. Hamilton, Circus of the Damned

-

His hands held the desire to crush the two plastic cups in his drunken grip. If he focused hard enough, he would trample the toes of ditzy dancers, their hips knocking hard into his path. Instead, his eyes were trained on you. You, with the curve of your neck aimed towards a taller man, were too busy to notice your best friend.

The contents of the one red cup spilled over his angry knuckles. Luke hardly noticed the sharp sensation of plastic digging into his skin until the alcohol hit the feet of innocent bystanders. There were loud yelps and threats, but he didn’t hear a single one. He envisioned the smoke streaming from his ears the moment you leaned into the man whose hand traced circles onto your waist.

Luke locked himself in the bathroom. The white-tiled room proved itself to be more interesting than the crowded college party he originally invited you to. There were pictures of city skylines and prints of surrealist paintings, but he couldn’t stay concentrated on one thing long enough before he lost himself in the thought of that man’s hands on you. Luke could have stopped it if he had the mental strength. But truth be told, he preferred feeling pathetic over disappointing you.

He had managed to get comfortable on the small fuzzy rug in front of the sink. His black t-shirt was covered in some alcoholic drink, and he assumed it had been yours before his fingers did the deed of crushing the solo cup to death. This jealousy had sprung up out of nowhere. If he hadn’t invited you over in the first place, he would have never experienced someone captivating your attention like he was so used to doing himself.

An hour of “occupied” and “someone’s in here” passed by slowly, and Luke spent the entire time checking his phone for texts from you. The same wallpaper of your face photoshopped onto Squidward greeted him every time. It reminded him of when a friend or stranger would ask who you were, and he would spend close to ten minutes trying to convince them that, no, he was not dating you. By that point, he’d rather say yes. He had enough knowledge of you to convince them.

someone said some blond has b een pukig his guts out in trhe bathrom for lik an hour now????

is that u??

are u ok

canm i c ome pee

Luke sighed. At least you had texted him.

Yeah, but I’m not puking

Pls join me

He sighed, resting his head against the wooden cabinet behind him as the sounds of the party echoed in his aching head.

hm ok ;;)

“Knock, knock!” you shouted from outside of the door. “You better be naked.” A few giggles left your lips, and if Luke had been any drunker, his entire body would have burst into flames.

“Comin’,” he mumbled as he lifted himself up gradually. His knees cracked as they bent, and it took most of his energy to not keel over into the porcelain bathtub before him.

You were grinning as he opened the door, your body immediately falling into his chest before closing the door behind you. “Comin’, huh?” you questioned, gripping tightly onto his waist. “Thinkin’ ‘bout me as you came?”

Luke peeled you off of him. His eyes were wide as he asked, “how many drinks have ya had?”

You held up four fingers, or maybe it was five. Or maybe three. Luke couldn’t tell– he didn’t care. You dragged down your pants a moment later.

“W-wh– what are you doing?”

“Goin’ pee,” you replied before sitting yourself down onto the toilet.

Luke sighed again as he turned away from you. This whole night was a terrible decision.

“What are you doin’?” you asked him. Your voice was still light and slurred, but you sounded happy. It was hard for Luke to comprehend the emotions surrounding him at the moment.

“Givin’ you privacy.”

You snorted. “Okay. Fourteen years of like, no privacy at all, and now you decide to give me privacy?”

He tried to focus on the sounds of the party as you spoke. “Mhm.”

There was a loud flush. “So, what’s up your butt t’night baby boo? Why’d ya lock yourself in here?” The sound of rushing water filled the small space, so he turned to face you once more.

Luke shrugged. He had no way of telling you about the jealousy that coursed through his veins at the sight of you pressed against another man. He had no way of communicating the fact that this jealousy ran deeper than just friendship.

“Lukey, I can read ya like a book,” you said, plopping down onto the rug he had just spent a whole hour sitting on and waiting for you to text him.

He shook his head. “Jus’, no reason,” he replied, another shrug following.

You quirked an eyebrow up at him in suspicion. You weren’t going to let him off the hook that easily. “You locked yourself in the bathroom when you received your first college rejection letter.”

“I promise, I’m fine.”

“You say that, but– “

“Are you having a good time?”

“What?” you asked.

Luke leaned back against the door the moment someone knocked their knuckles against it. “Occupied. I said, are you having a good time?”

“Well, yes, but– “

“Then, that’s all that fucking matters.” Luke wanted nothing more to be in bed with you at the foot as you went off about some dramatic contestant on that evening’s episode of Jeopardy. He didn’t want to be in this position with you.

You stood up, your arms folded tightly across your chest. Your eyebrows were knotted, and your lips were pulled into a frown. “What’s your deal?”

“Nothing,” he mumbled out so low he could hardly hear.

“Lu, what is your deal?”

“That fucking guy!” he shouted. “That guy who had you wrapped around his fucking finger is my deal. Okay? Happy? I’m fuckin’ jealous for some fucking reason. I wanted to punch his fuckin’ smirk off of his fuckin’ face because his fuckin’ hands were– “

“You’re jealous of a guy touching me?” you whispered.

Luke wanted to pay a random buff guy to punch him in the face so he could forget this conversation ever happened. That wouldn’t cause you to forget it, but he could at least convince you that you were going crazy.

He let out a long, shaky exhale before bringing his hands up to his temples. “I fucking guess.”

Your lips were pulled into a deep frown. It was the kind of frown that you wore whenever someone disappointed you, no matter how small the issue. If they couldn’t pick up a candy bar from the store, cue the frown.

“Can– can we go?”

Luke nodded. Both of you had accepted defeat.

-

“When you are in your twenties, even if you're confused and uncertain about your aims and purposes, you have a strong sense of what life itself is, and of what you in life are, and might become.”

― Julian Barnes, The Sense of an Ending

-

Luke had, once again, pulled out the old red sweater for the annual Hemmings Christmas party. However, this year, no girlfriends were attending alongside him. It was relieving to know he could catch up with you whilst surrounded by the primitive atmosphere of his immediate family. Plus, he already down one beer before the afternoon began. Despite his (very) minor intoxication, he still convinced himself he was seeing things as the sight of hanging greens and white berries tied with a bright red bow caught his eye.

“Mum, what’s this?”

Liz ambled over and grinned. “Mistletoe! Figured we’d start a new tradition.”

“Wh-what?” He would definitely need another beer within the next hour, and the party hadn’t even started. “Why?”

His mother shrugged as she continued going through her decoration checklist. Wreaths were hung, platters were stacked with all sorts of foods, and champagne flutes were delicately placed beside the many bottles of alcohol. The Hemmings family took their Christmas parties seriously. The large fir in the living room had gifts below the lowest boughs for weeks.

“Jus’ need more excuses to kiss Andy,” she replied smugly.

Luke rolled his eyes, and he almost accepted that as her final answer before she continued.

“The whole family decided that it’s about time you and Y/N get together anyway,” she said, and nonchalantly at that. She was stacking the brownies without bothering to look back to see her son’s gaped expression.

“What?”

She hummed.

“Ya can’t be serious, mum!”

“Of course ‘m serious,” she chuckled. “We swore ya’d be together by now.”

Luke sighed. The past few years had changed your relationship, both distance and different feelings combined, but he tried to ignore it as best as he could. He assumed you were doing the same. By this point, there was no way he could deny the nerves that built in his stomach at the thought of being in the same room as you. Something tugged in his heart when it came to you, and it only ever pulled him closer.

The evening came, and it only took about thirty minutes for the aunts, uncles, and cousins to get absolutely smashed. Luke, on the other hand, cradled his second beer until the glass no longer held a touch of cold. You had willingly joined a few of his cousins for a conversation on the couch, while in the dining room, his uncles were yelling political statements that had no reason to be shouted. Luke was left in the kitchen to analyze the foods.

“Okay, I get that like, marriage is a thing, but I don’t wanna talk about that with your cousins,” you said on your way into the kitchen. You had done something new with your hair, and Luke couldn’t stop thinking about how soft it looked against your dark green sweater. “Don’t eat all of the little smokies!” you wailed, crossing your arms. “Ya fuckin’ animal.”

Luke chuckled and tossed his used toothpick into the trash under the sink. Meanwhile, his eyes caught a glimpse of– “your shoes. What are those? Fuckin’ clown shoes.”

Your mouth fell open. “Meanie. I bought these on sale. ‘m sorry they’re too ugly for your Christmas party.”

“Oh, no, I’m not worried about that,” he said with a grin. “’m worried about the... the sea bear.”

You rolled your eyes and started towards the living room. “Fuck you.”

“Bet ya wish you could,” he replied, following suit.

“Literally, I never– “

“Stop right there!” Liz shouted from across the living room. A little over a dozen heads snapped in the direction of you and Luke, and their smiles only widened. For a moment, Luke couldn’t figure it out.

But then, he looked up.

“Shit,” he mumbled, eyeing the mistletoe that hung above the two of you.

Your eyebrows furrowed as your eyes followed his gaze, and once again your mouth fell open slightly.

“If ya don’t kiss, I’ll beat you up,” threatened someone, and their statement was followed by a bunch of kiss chants that sent Luke’s blood boiling.

He wasn’t angry, nor was he upset. He was nervous. Your eyes were still locked on the dainty branches hanging just above his forehead, and Luke didn’t know what to do. Your lips, the lips that he had thought about kissing for years, were pulled into a small pout.

“We don’t have to,” he mumbled, trying his best to smile through the pain of the situation. But he knew it wasn’t a bad pain. The ache was crawling up his chest and into his throat, preventing his voice from tossing out words that didn’t need to be said.

You shrugged, neck twisting to face the family that had practically become your own after all of these years. If this had occurred years ago, would he feel your hesitance the same? “Let’s just please ‘em,” you sighed with a chuckle. “They won’t let us live it down otherwise.”

“Ya sure?”

You nodded, the small smiling growing ever so slightly as your shoulders rose and fell with grace. “No harm in it.”

Luke nodded, too. You were wrong, however, because if nothing changed after this, the harm would come to him.

“So, we just– “

He took a small step forward, touching the tip of his boots to the tip of your clown shoes. Sure, he had been this close to you hundreds of times before, if not closer, but the proximity meant nothing then. It meant nothing when he crawled on top of you to retrieve the remote. It meant nothing when you attacked him after a game of charades. It meant nothing until he finally realized it always meant something.

Luke inhaled sharply, resting his hands on your waist as you gave him another reassuring smile. He truly loved your smile. “S’okay?” he whispered while leaning in and resisting the urge to back away.

You hummed. Your hands had found their way up to his neck, and his skin burned from the touch. Even without the pads of your fingers dancing along the muscles along his throat, his skin would still burn.

He felt as though years had passed by the time you closed the distance, your bottom lip gently nestling in between his. You put an ample amount of pressure into the kiss, careful not to overstep your boundaries, but Luke’s mind took control after that. His fingers dug into your waist as he took the chance to press his lips a little harder against yours. The skin on his cheeks would melt off if either of you took this a bit further. Every nerve in his body had ignited.

And then you let go, and suddenly everything felt cool again. He didn’t like the sensation of your lips leaving his, but he did like the timid smile that stretched across your blushing cheeks. There were cheers from his parents, hoots and hollers from his uncles and aunts, but he could hardly hear a single thing. Luke needed you to know how that kiss made him feel.

“Um,” he mumbled, letting out a cough as he reached for his beer to take a quick swig. Luke glanced over at the clock on the stove before looking back to you. “Grab your coat and meet me outside.” He took off towards his bedroom a moment later.

The shaking in his hands hadn’t subsided by the time he met you outside. Your teeth were chattering, but you looked too damn adorable in your knit hat. He couldn’t believe that he had kissed you. He couldn’t believe that he had kissed you.

“W-what’s up buttercup?” you stuttered with a great big smile. Maybe you hadn’t minded the kiss at all. Nevertheless, it didn’t make the upcoming conversation any easier.

Luke kicked a chunk of snow onto the sidewalk. “Uh.” He winced, brushing his curls back before adjusting the beanie on his head. “Shit, I don’ really know where to start.” He let out a defeated laugh. His hands were already raw despite the fur-lined pockets of his coat. If only he had brought gloves.

You didn’t say anything as the two of you rounded the corner onto the next street over. The street lamps and porch lights lit the path well with the help of the snow as a reflector. Luke believed that, throughout his sixteen years of knowing you, he had shared secrets much deeper than his fondness towards you. None of them proved to be as nerve-wracking as this moment right here.

“Y’know when we were like, sixteen, and you told the girl I liked that I didn’t like her?” he asked, a hot puff of air hitting his cheeks as he exhaled rapidly. Luke gazed over at you and watched your confused expression tighten.

“I-I think so?”

“I wasn’t really that mad.” Luke wanted to reach out for your hand, similar to the times he would do it just to hold onto something.

“Oh, okay.”

“And the time Lara asked me to stop– “

You snorted. “Fucking hated that bitch.”

Luke smirked in response. “Yeah, that really pissed me off. It destroyed me. I dunno why I didn’t realize that I’d pick you over her any day. Fuck, I’d pick you over anyone.”

“Really?”

Despite the conflict arising in his brain, Luke reached out for your hand, and he was relieved when you gladly complied. “Mhm.” He blinked and breathed out a few times to hopefully steady his heart rate. “’nd when I got mad ‘bout that guy at the party a few years ago.”

“Oh, Lu, I told you I hardly remember– “

“But I do,” he said, frowning. “I was so jealous. Like, so fuckin’ jealous. Didn’t know why. Couldn’t even figure it out. And then, it clicked, and suddenly– “

“What clicked?” You stopped walking, your eyes widening, but just barely.

Luke swallowed thickly. “I jus’– I guess I– “ He sighed. “I don’t even know when I noticed but– “

“Luke,” you chuckled, tugging on his hand, “it’s just me.”

He stared at you, noticing how relaxed you seemed in his presence. You were right, it was just you. He nodded and took one more deep breath. “I’m in love with you.”

Your smile faltered, and in that moment, Luke could feel his heart fall to his feet, but the smile soon grew once again. “Y’are?” You bit your lip.

He could feel his lips twitch into a grin as well as he nodded again, his grip on your hand slackened gently. “Yeah,” he whispered.

In one swift movement, you had your arms wrapped around his neck as you pressed your cold lips to his. Noses bumped, and teeth clashed, but neither of you seemed to care as your embrace tightened. Luke could feel your smile against his chapped cheeks, and he didn’t mind one bit that your toes were on his. He hardly had enough strength to balance the two of you, but if you were to collapse into the snow bank beside the shoveled path, he wouldn’t care one bit.

“Is this– um,” Luke pulled away to look at you. “Does this mean– “

“If you don’t get too bummed over losing charades again for the ninth year in a row, I might just be in love with you, too.”

[thepurebredking]

Q & A w/@DhestroyLegacy

Brian: I was pacing in my room, everything was too fucking much. Way too fucking much for me to process. I was knocked out and dragged back to who the hell knew where. The woman flipped shit the moment she saw me, she did NOT look happy. Nor was I to find out she was...his lover? I didn’t know. The term was so...foreign to me. I debated on growling, screaming, something. I haven’t tried the door yet, I didn’t want to. I didn’t know what was on the other side. For all I knew, it could have been my death. Strangely, that wasn’t what scared me. No, what scared me to find her, or someone else not happy to see that I existed. Inhaling I walked over to the door and turned it and opened the door slightly to see the guy who knocked me out. I was about to growl but then stopped myself. He nodded in greeting, “Wrath would like to see you in his office.” My fingers clenched, I wasn’t stupid. A hot head, sure, stupid, no. He walked ahead of me, like if he didn’t care if I was going to follow him or not. We both knew I’d follow him though, so I did. My head hung down low.

Wrath: It had been about an hour since Marissa had erupted through my door. She was pissed that I hadn’t told her about Brian before she ran into him at the Audience House. I tried to explain that I did everything I could to keep her from running into him before I had a chance to tell her about him, but all she kept getting hung up on was the fact that V and I had known for over a week and hadn’t told her sooner. But, we couldn’t have. We weren’t sure. We just had this kid that looked pretty similar and a hunch. We needed proof. So we waited until we had it. Then we needed to talk to the kid to find out where his interests lay. Did he just want answers, or did he want more than that? There was no reason to give any of this information to anyone, if Brian was just looking for answers, and once he had them, he was just going to go on with his life. Yes, we would have told Marissa about him. But, we all know, there is a distinctive line between their world and ours, and if Brian decides to choose his own, that would be it.

Marissa had stormed out about half an hour ago and left me to my own thoughts on the matter. I wasn’t sure how this was all going to go over, but aside from Marissa, most everyone else in the manse was looking forward to getting to know Brian better.

There was an abrupt knock on my door and I heard Micah on the other side. “Sire. He is awake and ready to see you.”

“Come on in.” I called out.

Brian: The door opened and I slipped inside. My nerves were shot. How the fuck did I get myself mixed into these damn situations. I didn’t bother to look up and see where we were going, there was no point to. I was too busy stuck in my own head, but when I looked up and heard the other’s voice. I automatically stiffened my spine, and took a seat in front of him. I didn’t know what this was about, I did exactly as he had requested. I stayed put at the other place. I didn’t know what to really say, except…”I’m sorry.”

Wrath: Michah led Brian into my office and I thanked him before releasing him of his duties. “Thank you, Michah. Please go find V and let him know that Brian is here.”

Michah promptly left and I turned to the kid in front of me. I could sense his discomfort as he slid into the chair. “There is no need for sorry.” I wasn’t even sure what he was apologizing for. “I imagine you have some questions.” Where to begin? “So, we’ve told you a little about your great-grandsire. Cop was a great male. He was much loved by our family. As I have told you, he was a distant relative of mine own, as well as Manny’s, who you can meet in a bit. We have made everyone at the manse aware that you are here. They are all looking forward to meeting you. However, I figured it might be a little overwhelming to be onslaughted by the whole of the manse at once, plus there are a few things we still have not explained that you will want to know beforehand.”

...and now to drop the hammer… “We are not like any of the people you have met in your life, so far. We are in fact a completely different species, one the world knows nothing about. Well, at least nothing that is completely accurate. I know that is hard to hear and believe. But, I promise you we are not a danger to you.” I paused, unsure of how to break the final piece, ‘Vampire.’ I was waiting to see how he was going to respond to what I had already said, when I heard the door open back up and smelled the scent of Turkish tobacco waft in. Ah, V. Maybe he could help me get past this little hump.

“So, where we at? What have you told him, so far?”

Brian:  I sat down, crossing my arms against my chest. It wasn’t meant to be offensive, it’s a cop pose for me as I heard everything that was told. Some of it was a repeat, I didn’t think he needed to worry about my sensory overload. What I was worried about though, was the fact that everyone that I’ve met, the other woman, these two, and the servants have told me that I looked like him. Were they going to be able to handle seeing me? Me being around as a reminder?  I rubbed at my hands before leaning over and scrubbing my face as he told me a little bit more about what they were. “The other one informed me of...some things. She didn’t say exactly what you ya’ll were...but she did tell me that my grandsire? Died a few years ago.” I pointed out. Bitterness rang in my tone about that, but I ignored that piece of information, for now. Soon the smell of turkish tobacco filled my nose and I turned to see the other gruff male. Cocking my head to the side, I studied him. There was something...calming about this guy. I looked back at Wrath, a grin spreading my face but I dropped it. Now was not the time to pull stupid humor out of my ass to only have me killed. “You say you’re different from the legends, myths, yadda yadda yadda, how?”

Wrath:

There was a shift in Brian’s scent as V walked in the door. I might have missed it through all the Turkish tobacco that blew in, but my senses were more keen than that. It was as if I could feel his whole body ease into his seat. This was good information to know, a nugget I would tuck away in case it was necessary, at a later time. This was not something new that I did. I could scent people’s emotions most of the time. The slightest deviations in their smell could tell me if someone was lying, afraid, angry, excited… the list went on. As I noticed particular changes in people’s emotions, I would make mental notes of them, if I could tell what the root cause was. It was useful to know what set people’s emotions off.

This may actually be useful now, as I break the information of what we were to Brian. “We are vampires, Brian. Not in the sense of the word you are used to, though. Most importantly for you to know is, we don’t feed off humans. We actually feed off each other, willingly. And, we do not kill your kind. We actually try to keep to ourselves and leave your kind to themselves. Some of the ways we are the same to the myths are, we do drink blood, but as I said, we drink of our own kind, and it is of our own free will. You won’t find us out during the day.” I decided to skim over this part. No need for him to know our weaknesses, right now. So, I moved on quickly, without saying much more about that. “We do have… fangs, I guess would be the word you would use. Things we don’t do... again, kill people, or feed on their blood.”

“And, We don’t turn into bats.” V tossed out. This was a long standing issue for him

I nodded and continued, “We are also not deathly allergic to garlic and religious artifacts. There is obviously a lot more to our world, but those are some of the basics, as far as myths and legends are concerned.” Should he choose to stay in our world, there would be a lot more to discuss with him, but this was a good start.

Brian: I watched their postures, their attitudes. I wasn’t no lazy detective. They were easy to read, well, about this anyway. As if it seemed that it was important to me to know they were telling the truth. I glossed over the word for a moment, it was unconscious thing to do, as he listed the difference between the mythical vampire traits, but there were similarities. Feeding, blood, and allergic to sun. I couldn’t help the snort that escaped me when the other guy mentioned that they didn’t turn into bats. I wiped my mouth to hide the grin that threatened to spread. Vampires. I honestly didn’t know whether to accept it, or to call them all insane, however it made sense when I put the pieces together. “You’re the king vampire then.” I stated, not question. “That’s why it was so damn hard to see you the first day until someone recognized my name because of Butch.” The pieces were beginning to fall into place, but a few things didn’t make sense. “You claim you don’t bite people, but you said great grandfather was one of you, and he died only a few years back…how was he turned?”

Wrath: Sitting just the slightest bit straighter, I nodded in response to the question about me being the King. I had been for almost a century now, and even though there were many moments over the years where I wish I never set my ass on this throne, I was proud of what I had accomplished as the race’s King.

“Your great grandsire was a half-breed. He was only half-vampire. Most vampires go through a transition around the age of twenty-five, in which they inherit all their vampire qualities. Some half-breeds will go through it, while others will not. Thankfully, your great-grandsire did not transition. He would not have had anyone in his life to help him through it at the time and he would have died. However, once he learned of his heritage, and met Marissa, he chose to be pushed through his transition. The only reason this was possible was due to his bloodline, my bloodline. I am the only living vampire with pure blood. The fact that he had my bloodlines in his veins was what got him through his transition.

“You see, when he met Marissa, he had met his mate. It’s not easy to explain to a human what that means. The closest word I could use is imprinting. When a vampire meets their mate, it is written in blood. There is no walking away from your mate. So, he asked us to help him transition and become one of us, so he could live with her as long as she would. Unfortunately, his fate was not as he wished and he passed unto the Fade a few years ago, during battle.” I felt as if I were rambling, but there was so much he didn’t know.

Brian: I nibbled on my lower lip as I took in the information that was given to me. Pieces fitting together, things being dished out by each question. What did I want to ask next? Did I want to ask what happened to him? Or did I want to ask if there was a possibility of him changing me? Did I want to do that? I shook my head to relieve some of these questions that built up in my head, but it wasn’t helping. Vishous cleared his throat, “You can ask, but remember, you may not like the answers you’re given.” My head snapped up, and I watched his diamond eyes carefully. Did he see what was going on in my head? He shrugged. “You’re not exactly trying to hide what you’re thinking by your facial features either kid.” I scowled at him. “Aren’t you just a peach.” I growled. He grinned. I looked back at Wrath, “What was the battle you guys were fighting?” I asked.

Wrath: I couldn’t imagine what this kid was going through, right now. First, finding out that his great-grandsire had not died upon his disappearance like they were led to believe, and second, finding out about the existence of vampires. To say that both were hard pills to swallow was probably the understatement of the century, and between the time it was taking Brian to respond and the back and forth between V and him, I could tell he wasn’t sure what to tackle first. I was about to open my mouth to help him out, when he finally came up with a question. Although, it wasn’t any of the questions I would have expected. I expected questions about the process to transition Butch, more questions about his great-gransire, what kind of male was he, what kind of life did he live, was he happy, did he ever think about the family he left behind (even though Butch never knew about Brian’s father, he did leave behind family). Instead, this kid wanted to know about the battle. It’s interesting how shock can register in the brain.

“As vampires, we have an enemy. They are called the Lessening Society. It’s kind of a long story to get into about who they are and how they connect to us, but let’s just say that our creator and their creator are opposite entities, yet siblings. It makes us sound like pawns in their own private game, and trust me, sometimes it feels like we are. But, the Lessening Society is our crux to bear. Our fight with them is as old as time.”

Brian: So like every other fantasy novel there was a balance here as well. I was trying to sort this shit out in my head. So far? Bupkis. I got bupkis. Meaning not a Goddamn thing. I rubbed my temples and breathed softly. "I don't know why I'm asking this, but I am going to ask anyway…" I wanted to know about Butch but at the same time...I wanted to know more about their world. It was fascinating and I guess I could understand why Butch left the human world. It didn't stop the simmering anger though. "Know what, never mind." I waved it off before looking at Wrath, sitting back and cross my leg over the other. My fingers steepled under my chin as it rested on my index fingers. “Would you mind if I asked how the battle of balance is going?”

Wrath: I was curious to know what Brian wasn’t saying. He obviously wanted to know something of importance to him. But, if he really wanted to know, he’d ask it in his own time. I was not going to beat the question out of him.

“Well, it could be going better… a lot better. Over the past half a century the Lessening Society got somewhat of an upgrade and now they are more difficult to kill than they ever have been. Which, in turn has made it easier for their numbers to climb. Back, almost a hundred years ago, we were so close to wiping them out. But, things changed.” Thinking about the abduction of Lyric and what that meant for their race was difficult. If it weren’t for that one event we might have ended up wiping out the entire race of lessers. “Now, we are fighting for our race around every corner and we’ve lost too many to count, including your great-grandsire. Although, we continue to train new males for the fight and we will not stop until every one of those baby-powerded fuckers are sent back to their maker!” I don’t know how I knew it, but I was sure that one day we would wipe their race out of existence. It was just a matter of finding the right weapon.

“So, with all that you know so far, I have a question for you. Are you just looking for answers to your questions about your great-grandsire, or are you looking to go down the rabbit hole we discussed and learn more about where you come from? Learn about your heritage? Decide which side of the line you want to live on? Because, this is one line you can’t straddle. You either live in your human world, or you live in our world. There are too many risks to allow anyone to live in both. I am willing to give you four days in our world to decide. After those four days, you will have to choose. Or, we could answer all your questions about your great-grandsire now, and drive you home. What will it be?”

Brian: Cocking my head to the side, I studied as he talked. The confidence grew. He said this was my heritage, was it? Honestly, I didn’t have to even think about it. I wanted in. I didn’t know why this world pulled me into the depth of the issues, but it did. I looked at the male behind Wrath, as if he’d give me an answer, but his face was as stoic as a statue. ‘Asshole…’ I thought, and he smirked. Alright, guessing he could read minds. I ran my fingers through my short hair. “How would I be able to help? I’m human…” I told him. “I have no medical training, well...not the one you’d need. I’m easy pickings…”

Wrath: I had a feeling this decision was going to be an easy one for this kid. He was thirsty, and not just for knowledge about Butch, but also for knowledge about our world. I picked up the phone and dialed for the doggen.

Fred picked up on the first ring. “Yes, sire?” He was always ready to server.

“Fred, please make up one of the spare rooms for our guest. He will be staying for a few days.” I pulled the phone away from my ear to address the kid again. “Is there anything you need at your place? We can send Fred to go get it for you, and don’t worry, he is completely trustworthy.”

Brian: I noticed he didn’t quite answer my question, but that was alright. When he made that request, it was all the answer that I needed. Something within me, settled deep in my chest. /Home/. When he directed his own question toward me, I nodded. “My clothes, and for them to hand in my resignation. Something’s telling me I won’t be going back…” Whether it was because I joined their fight, which was an extreme possibility, or I’d eat a bullet. Personally, I was already eager to start the battle.

Wrath: Nodding at the kid, I brought my attention back to the phone. “Fred, I also need you to send someone to Brian’s home to pick up some clothes.” I hung up the phone and raised my head back to Brian, “You can put in your resignation, after you’ve had a chance to mull everything over.”

Turning to V, I continued, “V, can you get him set up in his new room?”

“Sure thing, boss.” came V’s retort.

“Oh, and one more thing, kid…” I heard him stop at the door. “Don’t worry about what you can contribute if you stay. We’ll figure that out later. Everyone has a purpose. You have one, too.”

#QandA #BDBRP #ISRPG

[stardusttkachuk-main]

Unraveled

Title: Unraveled

Pairing: Rob Benedict x Reader

Word Count: 2,452

Warnings: bad dates, fluff, probably a swear word or two

Prompt: “I need you to be my girlfriend for about five minutes” and blind date

Summary: Rob and Y/N made a deal that if they ever needed to be in a fake relationship for whatever reason, it’d be with each other but after a couple bad dates, they realize that maybe they should stop pretending, but they don’t come to this conclusion on their own.

A/N: written for @natasha-cole ’s Valentine Challenge

You weren’t very good at dating. You had been in a serious relationship with someone for two years, except that ended a year and a half ago and you finally decided to get back in the dating game. It wasn’t going well at all.

You had signed up for a few dating apps, which were proving to be useless. You’d been on a few dates, but with your crazy schedule, it was hard to meet people and see them more than once when you did meet them.

You went out to bars with friends to try and pick up guys that way and even that was a fail. Everyone around here seemed to be taken or recently single and not looking, or way older than you and downright inappropriate.

And then there were the times when you actually made it to a date, and it ended terribly. The person wasn’t who they seemed to be. You weren’t really their type or vice versa. In short, you really sucked at dating.

“I think I’m just gonna be single the rest of my life,” you sighed, flopping back on the couch in the green room. “I’m gonna be the fun aunt that spoils all her nieces and nephews because she doesn’t have kids or a husband of her own.”

“You just need someone you know who doesn’t mind your busy schedule,” Kim said.

“All of my friends who don’t care are taken.”

“Not all of them.”

“Rob doesn’t count.”

Briana laughed as she joined you and Kim on the couch. “This talk again?”

“He doesn’t!” you argued. “We’ve been friends for years. If there was something there we would’ve realized it by now.”

“Okay, if you’re really not into Rob, I know someone who you might like,” Bri mentioned.

“Who?” You perked up. Bri had tried to set you up on a date before and it went well, except that your schedules were too busy to find another time to see each other. You were completely bummed because you really hit it off in the beginning.

“His name is Logan. Meet him on Tuesday evening at the Hard Rock Cafe.”

“I don’t get to see what he looks like?”

“We’re gonna start trying blind dates now.”

You took an uber to the restaurant. Hollywood was busy even for a Tuesday and you didn’t want to bother with parking. It wasn’t too crowded when you walked in, and you went to finding someone by themselves at a table. You found him quickly.

“Logan?” you asked, approaching the table.

“Yeah. Y/N?”

“That’s me.”

“Have a seat,” he invited. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“You as well,” you grinned, pulling out the wooden chair and sitting across from him. You scooted yourself up to the table, folding your hands in your lap. “Have you ordered or anything?”

“No.” He shook his head, then passed you a menu. “They did bring these though, I haven’t even looked through them yet.” He chuckled low in his chest. Briana knew your type to a T. “So, how do you know Briana?”

“We worked together.”

“You’re an actress?” He asked. You nodded, a wide smile on your face. You took pride in your work. “Must not be very well known.”

You nearly choked on your spit. “Huh?”

“Not very well known. When Briana gave me your name I didn’t immediately recognize it, you know? I’ve never seen any of your work before is all.”

“Well, I’m no Meryl Streep, but I’ve done a few projects. How do you know Bri?” You decided that changing the subject was the best option here. You were fine with the fact that you weren’t a popular actress, but the way this guy said that left a bad taste in your mouth.

“Her husband and I are good buddies. So I guess they’re both setting their best friends up together,” he added.

The waitress came by to take your orders. You grimaced at what Logan ordered. It was your least favorite food and you knew watching him eat it would just ruin your appetite.

You took a drink of your ice water, watching as your fingers melted the condensation on the outside of the glass. “So, what do you do for work?”

“I’ve got a normal job. I’m an editor for a publishing company. I fix general mistakes like grammar or punctuation that someone before me missed. Do you read a lot?”

“I love reading. I have a lot of downtime so, I read quite a bit. Plus I travel a lot and it’s always nice to read on a plane or while waiting at the airport,” you mentioned, already going over a list in your head of your favorite books and authors.

“Well, you’re welcome. I get to be the person that makes sure there are no errors in those books.”

“So, you’re a big reader then, I take it? I mean you kind of have to be with a job like that,” you said, but your food came before Logan got a chance to answer.

---

You were halfway through your meal, making small talk with Logan and ultimately decided that this night was a bust and there wouldn’t be a second date when your phone vibrated in your pocket. You cursed yourself for forgetting to turn it off—or at least change the damn vibration setting—and apologized to Logan as you pulled it out, seeing Rob’s name and that stupid goofy picture he took years ago pop up.

“Um…will you excuse me?” You asked. “It’s an emergency.”

“Yeah,” Logan ushered. “I’ll be right here.”

“Thank you,” you whispered, hitting the accept button and standing from your chair. “Rob?”

“Hey! Y/N. Whatcha up to?” His voice was loud and the background noise was louder and you put two and two together, figuring he was out himself.

You were now outside the restaurant, looking through the window to make sure Logan was still there. “Are you drunk?”

“No. God, I wish,” he laughed. “I need you to do something for me.”

“Okay,” you deadpanned.

“I need you to be my girlfriend for about five minutes.”

“Rob, I’m on a date!”

“Great, yeah, cool, me too! And it’s not going well,” he sighed. “She’s not great Y/N. She’s nosy and doesn’t shut up and I may’ve accidentally told her that I’m seeing someone and I got set up on the date by mistake because we haven’t told anyone we’re dating yet and now she’s asking to see my girlfriend and meet my girlfriend. Please. I mean, I know this is kind of outside of the rules but it’s really bad. I’m desperate,” he rambled.

You gave a long sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose. To be honest, this date with Logan wasn’t going well and you’d love to just leave. Maybe this was a sign that the date was only going to get worse. You took it as one, without further thought. “Okay, where are you?”

“California Pizza on Highland and Hollywood.”

“Seriously? Dude I’m at the Hard Rock Cafe.”

“Great, so…like ten minutes?”

“Ten minutes tops,” you promised.

“Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Okay. Thank you.”

“Yeah, you owe me, Robbie. I’ll see you soon.” You hung up and put on a brave face, walking back into the restaurant. You frowned when you saw Logan, not entirely wanting to break the news to him.

“Everything okay?” He asked. Your plates had been cleared like he knew this was going to end.

“Uh… not really. That was one of my friends. He uh… got into some trouble and just needs someone to go get him.”

“Ah,” Logan said, a hint of sadness in his voice.

“I’m really sorry,” you began.

“Hey, no. Don’t apologize.” He stopped you before you could get too far. “It’s okay. Um, do you need a ride or anything?”

“No. It’s—he’s at California Pizza, so it’s a short walk. Thank you though, really. And, again, I’m sorry,” you added.

“It was nice meeting you. I’ll let Briana know it didn’t work out.”

You bit your lip, a little disappointed that it didn’t. You knew who you wanted though, no matter how many times you denied it. No matter how many times you insisted it just wouldn’t work out, you knew who you needed. There was always something there, and you had realized it.

You made it to the restaurant quickly, having sped walked most of the way. You ditched your heels just a few minutes in but slid them back on your feet before entering the pizza place.

“Y/N!” You heard Rob call from somewhere on your right. You glanced in the direction to see him waving his hands and made your way to his table. Across from him was what seemed to be a nice girl. She was pretty, long hair and brown eyes. Rob didn’t really have a type but she appeared to be a good compliment to him.

“Marissa, this is my girlfriend, Y/N,” Rob introduced, placing his hand on your lower back when he stood up.

“You’re dressed real nice. Were you out?” She eyed you, up and down and her mouth curved into a frown.

“Yeah. Uh… me and Rob were not… we’ve only been dating for a little bit and our friends still think we’re single. So we’ve been accepting dates they set us up on,” you lied.

“It’s not often. But after tonight you know, I really think we should just tell them,” Rob insisted, in an attempt to sell the story.

“Yeah. I mean, don’t you think it’s weird that you two are out with other people when you’re seeing each other?” Nosy. Rob was right. She was nosy.

“It’s weird,” you answered.

Rob quickly spoke up. “But she and I both know it’s not going to go anywhere serious with these other people so we’re not bothered by it.”

“Why didn’t you just say no to your friends?”

“They like to think we’re lonely and that we need someone.”

“Truth is… all we really need is each other.” You almost scoffed at Rob’s sappiness. You would have, had your heart not skipped a beat and the butterflies not swarmed in your stomach.

“Anyway,” Rob continued. “I’m sorry this was a waste of your time. It was great to meet you, Marissa.” Always the polite one. “I’ll cover the bill. It’s the least I can do.”

“Right well, goodbye,” Marissa said in a sour tone, quickly collecting her bag.

“You just broke her heart,” you warned Rob when she had left.

“Worth it. It’s better than leading her on and having to face a second date.” Rob slouched down into the chair. “Did you eat?”

“Yeah, I got about halfway through my meal before you interrupted.”

“You could’ve said no, Y/N,” he reminded. “If you were on a really good date and in the middle of it you didn’t have to answer or even come down here. I would’ve lived.”

“No. No, We always said that if the other one needed to be the pretend boyfriend or girlfriend we’d do it, no matter the circumstances. I’m not going back on that promise,” you spoke up, finding the seat across from Rob. “Besides, he wasn’t that great anyway.

“Maybe we should stop.”

Your jaw nearly dropped. A hint of panic set in because Rob was your go-to for a lot of things, but especially the fake relationship thing. It was used for emergencies only, like getting hit on by some creep in a bar or one of Rob’s fans getting a little too close and crazy, or dates gone sour like the one he was just on. “Why?”

“I mean… stop pretending,” he said bashfully. His cheeks turned red and you could only assume his face was as hot as yours. “Be honest, are there feelings here between us?”

“For me, yeah. I like that we have similar schedules and that being around you is always so easy and comforting and I don’t feel like I have to be someone I’m not. We’re good friends, and you’re probably my best friend and I don’t ever want to lose that.”

Rob cut you off. “So I swallowed my feelings. I kept them to myself, and to Rich when he continuously hounded me about them. I don’t want to lose this friendship either. But we’re really good at being pretend boyfriend and girlfriend. What if we just tried to be not pretend boyfriend and girlfriend?”

“I like that idea. But do we tell everyone so they stop setting us up on blind dates or do we keep it on the down low for a while?”

“We should probably tell everyone. Let them have their ‘I knew it’ moment. And then we don’t have to tiptoe around them when it comes to coupley things.”

There was a convention a week later which you and Rob decided would be the best place to let everyone know. You were keeping it subtle: you were going to walk in with hands linked together, standing closer than usual and sometime during a conversation Rob was going to wrap his arms around you from behind. It was cute without being showy.

Rob's fingers were laced between yours and your hands were clammy with nerves, but the small gesture of him squeezing your hand eased them. When you got into the green room, hands swinging by your sides, everyone turned their heads.

“It worked?” Briana and Rich shouted at the same time, eyes drifting between each other’s and where you and Rob stood.

“What worked?” You asked.

“The dates! It actually worked? Who caved first?” Rich questioned.

Rob laughed, “What?”

“Oh please,” Briana laughed.”We know about your arrangement with each other that if one of you is on a bad date or getting hit on by someone you have zero interest in you’ll play the boyfriend-girlfriend card and rescue each other. I mean you really think it was a coincidence you were both in the same general area at the exact same time, on dates with people who were great on the outside but not so great on the inside?”

“You little shit!” You yelled. “This was a setup?”

“So really who caved first?” Rich asked.

“Rob did. Marissa’s nosy personality turned him off,” you said. “Hey Bri, Logan was actually pretty good. Had Rob not called, I would’ve hung on ‘til the end. There just wouldn't‘ve been a second date.”

Rob let go of your hand to wrap his arms around you, his chest flush with your back. “I guess we owe Rich for knowing exactly what my type isn’t.”

“Guess so.”

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[risuave]

Have you ever read Button, Button?

For those of you that haven’t, it’s a short story written by Richard Matheson in 1970. In it, a married couple is approached by a stranger with an offer. He presents them a box with a button inside of it and they are told that if they push the button, they will immediately receive $50,000. However, someone they do not know will die. The story illustrates that under the right circumstances, people have difficulty living up to their morals when they feel there are no repercussions to themselves. While the husband immediately rejects the offer, the wife starts to consider the possibilities. With $50,000, she reasons, they could start a family. They could be free. All it takes is someone, somewhere suffering. They would never know. And really, would someone actually die if they push the button? What harm could it really cause? With no real consequence and the chance for reward, suddenly even the most well-meaning individuals start to let their morals slide.

Right now, we’re all living in our own version of this story. We know the situation. We know what is being asked of us. We know the risks both to ourselves and to others around us. To ignore the gravity and the seriousness of the moment is to deny reality itself. And to their credit, many people are answering the call. Many of us are staying home and maintaining social-distancing. But far too many of us are not. Far too many of us are making excuses. Far too many of us are pushing the button.

I’m sure many of you that are reading this are rolling your eyes, feeling that I’m blowing things out of proportion. “Oh please,” you think, “I’m not killing anyone by going to visit my boyfriend.” “How is going for a walk with my friend going to hurt anyone?” I get it. I do. It’s hard to face a new reality, especially when that new world is formed by an invisible force. It’s hard to truly feel that this is a constant game of Russian roulette. But it is. And whether you realize it or not, whether you want to accept it or not, people are paying the price. 

A man worked at Sam’s Club and was deemed an essential worker. He wore a mask, did his best to stay safe, and maintained what he considered “social distancing.” Except, of course, he had to visit his girlfriend. And after all, he wasn’t sick so he clearly couldn’t have corona. Except he did. And he gave it to his girlfriend. Who also never felt sick when she gave it to her brother. Who also didn’t feel sick when he went to the supermarket and ran into his sister. That sister and her child? Yeah, they weren’t so lucky. The 5-year-old boy has been violently ill since Sunday. That sister’s name is Marissa. She is a background actor who works in New York. She is one of my favorite people when I get to see her on a shoot. She was moved to intensive care today and is now on a ventilator. Her family is not allowed to see her. If she dies, she will die alone while her family anxiously waits for any news by the phone. She did everything right. She wore a mask when she went out. She only left her apartment when absolutely necessary. And because someone pushed the button, her life now hangs by a thread and her 5-year-old child is in equal danger.

On Monday, 1,900 Americans died from this virus in 24 hours. That means that one American died from coronavirus about every 45 seconds. And the daily toll continues to climb. Soon, Marissa might be one of those worlds forever silenced.

That is the reality of the world we live in. That’s the reality of the game we’re all stuck playing. And in this moment, it has become far too clear that far, far too many of us have forgotten a basic and fundamental truth of human existence: we do not exist in a vacuum. Our actions, our decisions ripple beyond our sight. We are all threads in a tapestry: one piece in a shared community. Pull one thread, and the rest of the tapestry suffers. So many of us are focused on ourselves. Our path. Our journey. Our lives. After all, ours is the only life we live. So we start to make excuses. We start to focus on only making ourselves feel good. That has its place and an important one at that. Yet as we put more and more weight on our personal lives we slowly, inexorably, slide away from the community. We forget we are part of something larger. And we all suffer because of it.

Every day my mother and father don their lab-coats, put on their masks, and go to work. Every day they go to medical offices or the hospital or the clinic and put the lives of other people first. Every day they do what they can to help mend the human tapestry. And every day they are faced with increased risk. Every day they feel mounting stress. Every day they wonder “Am I bringing the virus home? Did I catch it myself? Am I going to infect other patients? Am I going to infect my kids?” They know the risks, they know the reality, and yet they go out to protect people every day. And every time you push the button, you risk their lives. You risk my life. You risk my friend’s lives. You risk my family’s lives. Every time you push that button, you spit in the face of their sacrifice.

So I do what I can to stay positive. I smile and listen to @taylorswift music while I watch years of savings disappear. I help my old restaurant co-workers pay for food even when I stress wondering how the hell I’m going to make rent, let alone bills, let alone food. And I think of the people that continue to push the button, and I get a little angrier.

“But I have to visit my boyfriend/girlfriend.” No, you don’t. Consider potential co-dependency issues and don’t go.

“But it’s Easter and I have to visit my family.” No, you don’t. Jesus rose. Your cousin won’t. Don’t go.

“But we’re not sick.” You don’t know that, and you don’t know if you’re a carrier. Don’t go.

“But it’s just me and one friend.” Are you living with them? No? Then you don’t know where they’ve been, who they see, and who they come into contact with. Don’t go.

This is a moment that tests each of us. This is a moment that asks so much of so many. This is a moment that will reveal our character. So what are you truly willing to do to protect the people you love? What are you willing to do to help people you will never meet? Is this moment about us all or about you? Will you help to mend the tapestry? Will you answer the call and make the sacrifice?

Or will you push the button?

[disconnected-unconsciousness]

To the boy that broke my heart:

This is a civil letter that was written in bed, alone, and full of the feeling of defeat, without sleep may I might add.

Now, I don’t know where to begin but I’ll try my best. I have tried my very best to show you how I feel. Seeing me and reading wasn’t enough. And now knowing you’ll never respond back to this is fine with me. You never truly gave a shit of what I had to say or felt.

I am frustrated and I never wanted hear from you again. The way you make feel is awful and feels like I’m swallowing a big pill with no water to wash it down. We’ve become numb to the idea that we’ve hurt each other. We’ve gotten used to fights and hurting each other. We are used to this and this is nothing new. I know I shouldn’t be thinking of you but how could I forget the one person who consumed my life for 4 and a half years. It’s amazing that we’ve made it that far. It’s honestly one hell of an accoplishment because we didn’t kill each other. On the serious note, I am over all of this. I guess the the one thing that is lingering is the fact that you had sex with another or multiple girls. I don’t care to know because either way I’m disappointed. To say in simple terms, you cut me open and pulled my heart out, ripped it in half with your bare hands and proceeded to stab me in the back, as if there was still life in me. Don’t worry, I’m numb to you. I can talk about you and not feel anything due to the fact that you don’t give a shit about me and you’re more of a nightmare than a dream come true. I’ve lost you a long time ago and stopped caring of when and where you hurt me. And honestly, I know you’re numb towards me. You’re numb towards my cries for help and full of sadness and heart break, you’re numb to my precautions and warning signs. You’re numb to my pain. You’re numb to my blows and you flick me away like a bug on your shoulder. All of that, I have come to terms with. I have processed and accepted the fact.

Now the real kicker, the real reason I’m writing this is a well known reason, because you had sex with another person or two. I’m livid because I gave you my virginity. Now losing your virginity may not have been a special moment in your life or who you lost it to but it was for me. The first 6 months was a confident decision to wait for the right man but due to your commitment, loyalty, and heart and eyes that were only for me, the other 6 months was an inner battle with my heart and head. I foolishly chose my heart over my logic. Young, naive, and 18, I gave you something that I had put on a pedestal for those 18 years. Growing up in a family based on catholic values, I knew this was wrong and that temptation would only lead you in the dark. I chose you and giving up my pure body and soul to you and made physical vow that it would ONLY be you. That warm night in May, is the first time I gave you all of me, heart, body, and soul. You purely bewitched me with your love, no matter the circumstances. I chose you and it meant everything. I went against my religion to show you my love, the ultimate physical act of love. Now, seeing that my name in you phone changed form “Baby” to “Marissa” wasn’t my first inclination. The fact that you were so distant had started it. You pushed yourself away because of temptation, put me on the back burner for other females. To put your fantasies and desires into them than the woman that loved you. Then the girl in your phone. Then the dating apps. Then the name change in your phone. Then the sexy texts to your neighbor and flirty texts to other girls. And lastly but not least, the fact when I told you to cut your neighbor off you told me I was overreacting. Her text back saying “was it me? Did I do something wrong?” Was the nail in your coffin, the confirmation. You learned how to lie to the person who taught you everything about lying and you tried using it against me, the newest talent you now had masterfully skilled, or so you thought. I ignored it, I tried ignoring all the rumors and the talk. You made me feel bad for listening to people who would never try hurting me, the people who want to protect me. Now, you’re not so good at lying because if you were a master at the art then you would have a backstory and the dirt to cover your tracks.

The fucked up thing is that you ride out this lie till you’re in the fucking ground and covered in dirt. You’ll die with this fucking lie even though it’s obvious and the cat is out of the bag. It’s fucked up because you don’t even think that after hurting me in the worst possible way you don’t respect me enough to tell me the truth. The WORST thing about it all is that I made you wait, to make sure it was going to be you forever. That I was sure that I wanted to give myself to you, I wanted to have sex with only one person my whole life and you knew how big it was for me. You knew and it didn’t matter when you fucked your neighbor. I mattered. I spent ups and downs, jobs, deaths, and accompliments with you. We went through so much and yet you let someone who you just met a couple of months have the same body I loved and worshiped with my body. Our bodies intertwined in the most glorious way, giving pleasure to each other in what I believe the most holy way. The touching and kissing, the way you put yourself inside me was a way to pride our love. You spat on it. You ruined it. You soiled it. You claim to think of me all day, every second of the day but seem to forget who I am when you’re at work texting her that you’re horny and to come over after you get home. How wet she was, how good she felt, how amazing the sex was. You failed to remember the one person who let you feel that way for the first time. You dismissed me and made what people think isn’t a big deal and a common thing to give to a person you’re just attracted to and spat on my beliefs, my feelings, and my love. You always told me that you couldn’t have sex with another person after a break up, that you couldn’t do it for a long time, that you didn’t think you could do that, you’d give yourself time to heal. I guess I never meant shit because that didn’t last long.

You don’t want to own up to your mistakes which led you to lying to me and running with the excuses till you’re dead. You should’ve really listened, It all comes back to you. Every single fucking choice you make, big or small, it comes back. No matter how good or bad, it has an affect on you. Call it Karma, call it God teaching you a lesson. It comes back but in 10 folds. I’m living it. Still stuck on a boy who could care less if I’m dead or alive.

One day I will forgive you. Not today or anytime soon but one day when I’m not angry or frustrated or able to shed a tear. When I can’t cringe when I get a whiff of the Cologne you wear, when I can look into a pair of blue eyes, when I can hear a song that was made just for you and not want to change it and actually enjoy it, when I’m not in bed at night hoping that all of this pain will go away in the morning. When I find peace within myself about this situation. I will forgive you. I have forgiven everything you’ve done, the lying, your absence, you harsh words, the cold stares, the rejected and blocked calls. I forgive you. But this? I need time and it won’t be anytime soon. You finally did it. You finally got what you wanted. I will no longer breathe down your neck or fight with you or give you shit about your friends or girls in your phone. You did 1 out of the 2 things you swore you’d never do, that you would never let happen. That we would never go down this route, that we had to separate and go down different paths alone. I wanted everything with you, I wanted our babies and I wanted our dogs and our home and holidays and birthdays, I wanted our tattoos, I wanted to have your last name and wear it even when we were old and gray. I wanted to cook for you and do your dirty laundry. I wanted to raise children and smile at you when they accomplished something or did something funny. I wanted to be that person you came home to every fucking night. To sing to you when you’re sad. To honeymoon in Greece. To see the world with you. For you to be there for accomplishments and the bad times and vice versa. I wanted it all and it didn’t matter if maybe we shouldn’t have been together because it was you, you were my person. If only we could’ve met each other half way. You have taught me what heart break truly feels like. I’m not trying hurt you, I can’t hurt you, you’re made out of cold titanium. I can’t break you or get through to you if I tried. I’m not trying to get you riled up or upset. No. None of that. It never worked. This is me giving you the truth. Goodbye.

[jynsongxvii-blog]

Angeles   a l o n e

A/N: -uess who got sick after puking last friday! Yes, me. Yes, it sucked. BUT I’M GOOD NOW SO YAY. Not yay because I wrote this barely today tho :) Anyway, hope you enjoy it. [Challenge #5] Couldn’t get too much into details, very sorry about that. Getting sick didn’t help writing inspiration. Tonight I got it, just not enough time time to write everything. Still I tried however. Have more Jyn lol and forgive typos, not time for revisions. If you never read the first practice challenge/fic I wrote idk if this will be confusing? It kinda talks about jyn’s parents...so idk. Check it out here if you wanna refresh your mind.

Girls had been sneaking out of the palace in the last few weeks. I’d only ever done it with Dominoes, but that day I was ready to give Angeles a little of myself alone.

It had only taken asking Geoffrey to help me again. As always the old butler pretended to hate it, but he didn’t really hesitate to show me a way out and soon enough I found myself around the chatters of citizens at afternoon. I only hid my face under a baseball cap that in turn was covered by a hoodie. That seemed to be all the requirements needed for famous people to sneak around in movies if I added my new favorite sunglasses. I didn’t dare to consider myself seriously famous yet, but I’d received enough attention from magazines lately for cutting my hair and donating it to the hospital in our last assignment.

Some people debated about it being really sweet of me while others said it was just some fake altruist move to get attention. It was kind of a stupid argument considering them debating about it just created said attention, but I didn’t care. I hadn’t even planned it at all. It was nothing but a last minute decision. I figured if the media had it’s eyes on me I might as well take the chance to do something good. I’d received a letter from the nurse that had looked after me while I told the children my story and she said they’d received donations all over Illea, apparently other hospitals had too.

The country could keep debating on what my intentions had been. At least it served some good, whether the people behind said good gave their hair for the cause or for a trend. I had to get rid of my purple tips first, but thankfully never cutting my hair made it long enough that even after cutting the unusable tips my braid was useful. I had to admit when people asked me if my hair wasn’t heavy I considered it a ridiculous question, but with shorter hair I realized why they said it. My head did feel lighter, not to say having long hair was uncomfortable since you couldn’t tell the difference in weight, however.

I made my way through the crowd and spotted different places. Cafes, restaurants, stores and clubs. After a few hours I’d lost myself in the city, the good kind of lost though. My ears perked up at the sound of music and I found a small group of street musicians. It was simple music, but they were good, getting a few people to gather around, including me. I smiled at their enthusiasm playing, it was an upbeat song, sufficient for couples to joke around dancing. Some clapped and I hummed along, choosing the worse moment to leave my tips on their hat.

The violinist got in my way, grinning as he played. I raised an eyebrow at him and he stared at the group of people dancing, his expression becoming clear.

“Sorry, dancing isn’t my thing.” Not at the moment at least.

He gave me a pout and his sight focused on a girl practically jumping on her place as she stared at the couples dancing. She was adorable there was no denying that but…The violinist gave me a smirk somehow knowing I would cave in to the girl in bouncing ponytails. I sighed, taking my glasses off before offering the girl a hand. She gave her mother a questioning look for permission before accepting it with a squeal of excitement. She was even more adorable spinning around with me. I tried to make her twirl around and skipped along with her. In the end, my head got into the harmony of the music so much I started singing that. No real lyrics, just harmony as I hauled the girl up in my hip and spinned with her.

More people were drawn to or group as I danced on light feet, focusing mostly on the little girl as I sung, not even noticing the moment my hoodie fell back. All of the couples twirled around one last time a few steps away as the song came to an end and laughter echoed in the street as the crowd walked over to give the musicians tips, clapping more.

A hand pulled my arm as people clapped and whistled. I realized it was one of the other musicians. “You have a pretty voice Lady Jyn.”

I gulped, blushing as I realized the people were clapping at me too and that my disguise had been in vain in the end.

Surprisingly, I had to sign a few autographs and take pictures with some girls excited to meet one of Dom’s Elite members. The group of musicians insisted I should keep some of their profit, saying it wouldn’t have been that good a night without my help, but I declined saying it was better in their hands for now.

When things finally calmed down I was dragged into yet another awkward situation by a woman that had stayed in our audience for longer and stared at me like I was a ghost. She was clearly from a higher caste by the way she was dressed, stylish brown curls draped over her shoulder covered by expensive clothes. She didn’t seem as old as she probably was.

“That face was enough to get me suspicious,” she finally grinned, “being a Song made it even worse, but that voice...You have Becca’s voice too.”

My eyes widened at the name. That couldn’t be right. How could someone like her be related to my family in any way?

“You- You knew my mother?”

“Why would she hide being- Becca would have never hidden something like that from me...would she?” Her shoulders slumped at the thought, though I didn’t understand any of what she meant. She’d been practically blabbering confusing nonsense since we’d sat down at a bench. She’d mentioned my father too however, and mentioned too many details I’d heard my own dad say about my mom to confirm she wasn’t making stuff up. She actually knew my parents. “Unless...Oh they wouldn’t…. They wouldn’t go all that way to hide it!”

I blinked at her, wondering if maybe running away from there was an option, but she reached for my hands, squeezing gently, hopeful eyes searching my own. “Is your mother alive then? Was it another one of her crazy plans? Pretending to be sick?”

Being sick? An act?

“I-I’m sorry... I don’t know what you’re talking about, but my mother isn’t alive. She died after childbirth.” After I was born. It was always easier to say childbirth. I knew it wasn’t my fault and I couldn’t really miss her myself, but what she was...she was something to others. I used to think it was just my father--and that was enough to make saying it aloud uncomfortable--but now there was Marissa. This woman that claimed to be my mother’s best friend once upon a time. When apparently my mother was some sort of famous singer. One of my crazy dreams was my mother’s life and I’d never known. My mother had been a Two. Or so Marissa claimed.

The way her eyes looked down as she let go of my hands in disappointment made me tear up a bit. It felt like that time I’d cried in front of Kat. It had been a weird week, spending my birthday away from dad for the first time a few weeks before that and then seeing that kid in the hospital, Tim’s little brother. Both of them scared their mother wouldn’t get better.

I’d attempted to put myself in the little boy’s shoes in my conversation with Kat, but it reality I had ended up putting the kid in my shoes. Not a boy that might lose his mother and forget her, but the girl that never met her own and struggled to ignore how her mother’s loss still affected others. The girl that heard her dad talk about all the lovely things his wife once did. Details that maybe no longer existed because of her own existence.

It was a stupid thought maybe. It wasn’t like I had a choice. Dad always made sure I knew it wasn’t like that, but sometimes I just couldn’t help from wondering. Would she still be here without me? Would it had been better? Would my dad had been happier even if he claimed it wasn’t true? I pushed the thoughts away like I had that last time after swimming with my friend--yes Kat, you’re my friend--but made sure to this time replace them with dad’s words: ‘Of course I miss her, Jyn. I would love to have her here with me... but only so she could see what a wonderful girl you’ve become.’

It still made me cry, but more because of all the efforts my dad had done rather than because of sadness. I wiped away the tears and smiled apologetically at Marissa. “Sorry to bring the bad news.”

She gave me a sad smile back and surprised me with a hug. “Oh honey, no... The silly thought just made it’s way through my head again. I already spilled my own tears years back. What you’re bringing now is good news...” She pulled away and smiled with still glassy eyes. “Knowing the truth, knowing about you, it makes it a million times better. You’re mother would be the happiest woman on earth to see how you share the same strong voice.”

The words coming from someone different than my dad made me smile, but I was sure it was a slightly awkward smile since I barely knew Marissa at all. She apparently noticed too, standing up and wiping her tears.

“Jeez, I’m making a scene and making you uncomfortable, aren’t I? You must think I’m a crazy lady.”

“Uh,” I laughed nervously, “no, it’s fine, just...a bit confused I guess.”

Oh, so you’re guessing now, huh? For some reason I imagined Dom’s mocking voice in my head. I had to stop myself from rolling my eyes as I grinned to myself.

“Understandable…” Marissa assured me. “It seems there’s a lot to be discussed. Ri sure has a lot to explain to me, no wonder he just decided to vanish.” She shook her head like my dad was in front of her. “That little--”

I cleared my throat and she looked down at me. “Right, sorry. How about we go to your mother’s favorite cafe and I can explain it all?”

A/N 2.0: To be continued… I guess? Jyn’s project in the end was something she wasn’t even sure would be counted as a service project since it involved changing law issues regarding marriage in Illea. Once she learned the true story behind her parents’ complications to keep their lifestyles and be together, it was all she could really think about, so that’s what she worked around. There’s--> this old interview where you can see some of Jyn’s opinions about marriage and how the woman is entitled to take the man’s caste no matter what (before she even found out about her parents). Terribly sorry this is met half way, but under my circumstances that is all I could manage. Hope you liked what you got tho <3 , it’s almost 2k words. There’s a reference to the second date ro with dom that I’m still in the middle of writing a fic for since I struggled with time. I guess y’all seeing it depends on if I get eliminated or not lol.

[libraryscarf]

those who bleed and those who burn

(ao3)

this doesn't belong to the same AU as the rest of the snapshots in this series, but I decided to post it anyway. this is an AU based on Marissa Meyer's "Fairest"--an interlude story in the Lunar Chronicles told from the villain's viewpoint.

so what I'm saying is basically.......if Yato were Levana :')

Held against the coals his skin hissed and swelled and split.

“Come over here, little brother. I want to show you something.”

The thick, charred smell of flesh choked him, he couldn’t breathe, and he was on fire, and his face bubbled and broke open.

“Yes, good job little brother. Are you having fun?”

He screamed and screamed until his throat was raw and bleeding from the smoke. And he could only wait, wishing for his red, ruined body to give up and let him go, to leave the fire...to find someplace cool and quiet...

And then he woke up.

“Bad dream?”

Fujisaki sat at the foot of Yato’s bed, wrapped in a soft white robe and smiling angelically down at him. Yato called up his glamour instantly, though his skin was plastered to the sheets with sweat and the ashy, burnt taste of his own flesh wouldn’t leave his mouth.

“You should be up by now,” Fujisaki said gently. “People are arriving for the funeral. It is such a shame…”

He glamoured a fat teardrop to roll down his face, and it trembled like a star at the bottom of his chin. The tear was disturbingly at odds with the smile on his lips.

“I’m up,” Yato said, glaring back.

Fujisaki was the only person alive who didn’t react to the scorching ice of Yato’s stare.

His eyes were blue--not his real eyes, of course, but the ones he chose to wear. They were the kind of blue that hurt to look at.

The kind of blue that burned.

No matter how much his glamour changed, Yato kept the eyes.

: : :

Endless sympathies. Endless shoulder pats. Endless tears, most of them faked.

Yato knew no one actually cared who had died, even though the funeral was for the rulers of their kingdom.

He didn’t much care either.

The unsorry words kept eating at him.  “We’re so sorry for your loss.” “They will never be forgotten.” “This is truly a dark day for Luna...”

It began to sicken him.

Yato stopped making eye contact with the well-wishers. He was getting tired of their invasive closeness, the staring.

Someone stopped in front of him, and once again, he didn’t look up. He fastened his eyes on the pair of plain shoes facing him.

“I can’t imagine how hard this must be for you,” said a quiet voice. This voice, unlike the others, quivered with what seemed to be real feeling. Yato glanced up before he could stop himself.

The voice belonged to a young woman, whose face he was sure he had seen somewhere before. The memory skittered around his periphery like an insect.

“Your name?” he asked.

She clutched her hands close to her stomach, caught off-guard by his sharp question.

“Hiyori Iki, Your Highness. My husband had the honor to serve in the castle guard for many years, until…” She swallowed, and Yato caught the glimmer of moisture before her eyes turned down.

“Until recently.”

Iki...yes, he remembered that name. The guard who had been executed for protecting a maid: one of Fujisaki’s favorites, if Yato remembered correctly. He had been forced to pull out all his fingernails, then slit his own throat in front of the gathered courtiers in the throne room.

Even Yato hadn’t been able to watch that one all the way through.

“Then I think you can imagine, after all,” he said in return, surprising himself with the gentleness of his voice.

Hiyori looked him in the eyes for a long while, as though gauging his sincerity. He waited for the instant she would shy away from his stare.

Instead, she gave him a soft smile.

That was her only answer before she moved past him, down the line.

: : :

“Who was that you were so captivated by?”

Fujisaki caught Yato’s elbow as he fled the crowded ballroom.

“I have no idea what you are talking about.”

“Of course you do.”

Fujisaki grinned, and Yato recoiled in disgust as his brother’s glamour shaped itself into the appearance of Hiyori Iki.

“I can’t imagine how hard this must be for you.”

Fujisaki’s voice was mousy and high-pitched--a disgraceful mockery of her words that made Yato’s blood pound with rage.

“Really, a guard’s widow...and not even one of the pretty ones,” Fujisaki purred, still inhabiting Hiyori’s appearance while scraping his eyes lewdly over Yato’s body. “However, it’s good to see you even have that ability. I was beginning to harbor doubts.”

His eyes found their mark.

“Forgive me, I seem to have forgotten. But your...imperfections are all above the waist, aren’t they?”

Yato shrank against the wall.

“Stop it.”

Fujisaki gave a ringing laugh, and dropped Hiyori’s glamour to appear as himself again. This did not give Yato very much comfort.

“Well, little brother, if you want to toy with her, you have only to ask.”

Fujisaki gave Yato’s chin a playful tweak as he strode past, disappearing around the corner of the next corridor.

Yato slumped against the wall, pressing his aching forehead into the cool stone. No, he thought, he didn’t want her.

He didn’t want anything but quiet.

: : :

Yato shut the door behind her. Either he didn’t notice the way Hiyori’s eyes nervously flickered toward it as her only escape route was cut off, or he chose to be ignorant.

“You love me,” he said.

It wasn’t a question. He knew she did.

Hiyori’s shoulders tightened.

“I don’t know,” she whispered. She refused to look at him.

Yato exhaled slowly through his nose. He reached for her mind, slipping himself between the cracks in her armor.

Tell me the truth.

“Yes…” she breathed. “Yes, I do...love you.”

Yato sighed. The relief of hearing it lifted a hollow burden off his chest that he felt as though he’d been carrying for weeks.

But then she gave a quiet sob, and his heart froze.

“But I don’t want you to love me,” she said miserably.

Yato rushed to hold her, clutching her upper arms, careful his grip wasn’t hard enough to bruise.

“Don’t be silly. You’re still telling me the truth, right?”

Hiyori nodded weakly, still unable to look at him.

“Of course you want this,” he said, hating how his voice pleaded. How it was weak.

Her arms felt tiny in his hands, and Yato wondered frantically if she’d lost weight. That thought was immediately chased out of his head by her head shaking “no.”

“I don’t. I don’t want this. I can’t...please…”

His grip was getting steadily tighter.

“Why not? Hiyori, you do want this. I can give you everything. You and your son--”

Hiyori threw her chin up and stared him fiercely in the eye. Yato let go of her arms and took a shocked step backward.

“He’s why I can’t! The life of a child here, in this court...around your brother! I meant to leave with him as soon as the mourning period for the king and queen was over…”

Yato gaped at her, unable to believe he was hearing this.

“You what?”

Hiyori dragged her fingers through her hair, and the look on her face scared him. He had seen it on his own...on the faces of the women his brother had tortured…

“I was going to leave. We were going to leave, forever. But I...I couldn’t...I…”

Yato didn’t need to hear.

“If you want to toy with her, you have only to ask.”

Fujisaki had made this happen. It was the only gift he had ever given his brother. It was the only thing Yato had ever truly wanted.

His teeth bared.

“You want to stay now, though.”

He was angry. Angry at Fujisaki. Furious at himself. But Hiyori was here, and--

Couldn’t she see that he could protect her?

Her hands crept up to cover her mouth, and frustrated sobs hiccuped out of her. Each one drove a poisoned needle through Yato’s heart.

“Why couldn’t I leave?” she asked, collapsing in on herself. “I wanted to. I wanted to leave, but I didn’t--because every time I tried, it hurt...it hurt Yukine so much. He screamed...he tore at his skin…”

Yato shut his eyes.

Hiyori slumped to her knees, and Yato sank to the floor in front of her.

“You can stay here,” he said, reaching for her again. Her mind was soft, and it was easy to reach through her defenses, to convince her how right he was. How much he loved her.

How much she wanted it.

“You can stay here, and it will all be fine.”

: : :

Before he saw her so often, it had been easier for Yato to keep himself together.

Before there was the chance of running into her around every corner in the palace. Before she began taking care to avoid him--or, if he was impossible to avoid, to put him off with smiles and politeness. Before he saw her playing with her son in the nursery, and smiling like he’d never been able to make her smile.

His gut twisted in jealousy.

“Hiyori.”

She was kneeling in front of Yukine and wiping something off his face as Yato walked up to them. The glint of anxiety in her eyes didn’t escape him.

“Go now--go play with Hiiro,” she told the little boy quietly, who trotted off back to the nursery after casting a question-filled glance at Yato.

Hiyori stood.

“Your Highness?”

Yato flinched. Her formality was a rejection in itself.

“Hiyori. Please.”

The anxiety in her eyes darkened into fear. Yato’s skin prickled with frustration. Why couldn’t she understand?

He would never hurt her, never.

If she couldn’t understand that, then he’d help her.

“You’re doing it again, aren’t you?” she murmured, just as he reached out for her mind. He stopped, and arranged his face into innocence.

“Do you think you’re helping me?” Hiyori asked, without anger. There was something in her voice besides fear, and Yato struggled for a moment to name it. Was it…

Pity.

“You’re imagining things,” he said hoarsely. She smiled.

“Yato. How long are you going to play this game? How long are you going to keep hoping I’ll change my mind?”

“It’s not a game. You love me, and soon you’ll see how important that is.”

She shook her head. Her face seemed to drain of life, and even the glint of fear in her eyes was chased out.

“It’s too late,” she said. “I’m sorry.”

The worst part was that it sounded like she actually was sorry. Yato hardened himself.

Hiyori was just confused.

She couldn’t just break his heart like this.

“It’s not over.” He reached out, pulling her closer to him.

He also reached into her mind, filling it with the warmth she had always given him.

“It isn’t over, because I love you.”

He barely met any resistance from her, and Yato hated his brother just a little bit more.

“I love you now, and you love me, and we’re happy.”

His arms tightened. He pushed her to respond. You are so happy right now.

“We’re happy. Right?”

Hiyori melted into his chest, her arms wrapping around him. She nodded.

: : :

It was close to four in the morning when he heard the footsteps. Yato lay perfectly still, his arm tucking Hiyori close to his side.

Breathe in.

A thump outside. A quickly muffled shout. Hiyori stirred.

Breathe out.

The door was thrown open so quickly it crashed against the wall and swung back. The man in the doorway propped it open. All Yato could see was the intruder’s helmet.

“Wh...what?” Hiyori sat up next to him. Yato let his arm fall from around her shoulders. Quietly, he slipped the idea into her head to stand up.

Hiyori stood.

“What is this?” she asked, her sleepy eyes blinking in the light from the hallway. She turned her head to look down at him. “Yato…?”

Yato caught the guard’s eye. Kazuma waited.

Then, Yato nodded, and Kazuma unsheathed a knife. Yato threw himself off the opposite side of the bed.

The rest he tried not to hear.

: : :

He crouched, shivering next to the bed, making sure to keep a grip on Hiyori’s consciousnesses with his glamour. Even if she wanted to run, her body would be frozen in place.

He trusted Kazuma to make it quick.

“I’m so sorry,” Kazuma’s voice murmured. And then, silence.

Then a scream.

Yato shot up from his crouch, electrified by the horror pounding through Hiyori’s mind. He retracted his will from her at once, dizzy with vicarious fear and agony.

“I-I don’t know--what did I...?!” Kazuma backed away, dropping the stained knife on the carpet. Yato’s eyes followed it. Light from the hallway splashed over the dripping, scarlet blade.

For a dead second, everything was quiet again.

Hiyori stood perfectly still. A coin-sized circle of darkness blossomed on her white nightdress, above her ribs. A second dark flower spread open over her heart. A third, in the middle of her stomach.

Her shocked, glossy eyes flickered between Kazuma’s face and Yato’s.

Then, she crashed to the floor. Her hands scrabbled, slipping in blood as she tried to press them against the wounds to staunch the bleeding. She stole rough, tortured breaths, and Yato felt sickness lurch in his throat.

Dumbstruck, Yato looked down to her, then back up to Kazuma. He was still backing away, as though only just realizing what he had done.

A harsh, sobbing whimper sucked all his attention back to Hiyori.

“Yato…?”

One hand was fisting over the wound in her stomach.

The other reached feebly toward him, and Yato’s fingers twitched.

It flopped to the floor again: a doll’s broken limb.

Yato’s eyes twitched back to Kazuma, and red erupted across his vision.

: : :

He was drowning.

He had already drowned.

He could smell nothing, could breathe nothing but the thick, coppery rust that filled the air.

He was alone.

In the dark, and alone, and drowning.

: : :

“What happened to him?”

Yato’s ears were ringing, but voices started to curl through the fog surrounding him. Footsteps. Panicked, gasping voices.

“He killed the queen.”

“But…”

“Remove the body.”

Shuffling, grunting. A heavy object being dragged, and then a gentle thump, like limp knuckles against the ground.

A horrified whisper: “Did...the king do this to his own thaumaturge?!”

A hissed reprimand:  “Do you want to die?!”

Yato closed their voices out of his mind, trying to claw his way back to oblivion. He felt a burning ache deep in his throat. It hurt too much to think about.

Surfacing from the cloudy depths of a nightmare, Yato’s body finally forced him into an awareness of himself and his surroundings. His arms and his back pounded with soreness. His throat was hot and gravelly, and he found he could only take short, shallow breaths. His lungs burned.

Yato’s eyelids twitched. His face was buried in something soft, and the lingering smell of flowers whispered through the air’s stench. Something rhythmically rattled in his ears: a soft, broken noise that sounded like a lost child.

He stiffened. The sound was him.

“Your Highness?”

A hand timidly tapped his shoulder, and his aching arms tightened. He was clutching something against him. Something soft and cold, that smelled faintly like flowers.