#plus she was somehow sent to the wrong universe's after life??? she's pretty sure??? everyone's got four fingers not five???

[vroomian]

Ollie's an absolute heartthrob. Especially with the short hair. And super built, I am swooning! She popular in Hell?

oh there were a few moments in the beginning where she had to fend off Val's offers for a job. Unfortunately for him, Ollie is a homebody who stays in her workshop, and has her maid/assistant Thea do her outside errands.

(I'm thinking despite her appearance Ollie is actually a very gifted technomancer/artificer. She can fix or create just about anything with enough time. which is how Alastor and her meet at first!

someone's gotta fix his microphone after all!)

Ollie's actually very intimidating to most demons, just from her size and build. But yeah she is verrrry popular, especially with the ladies lol.

[golbrocklovely]

remember me // colby brock (pt 2)

A/N: as i mentioned before in a different post, this took me FOREVER to write. i loved writing this story but something about it just made me drag it out for so long. nonetheless, i love this and i'm excited to see what you all think. please lmk what you thought about this. thank you to everyone that has supported me and sent me kind messages. yall are the best ! hope you enjoy :) also lmk if you want another part...

prompt: she's the only one that remembers colby, or so they both thought.

trigger warning: ANGST, heartbreak, AU mention, friendship problems, cursing, happy-ish ending (but not the end...?), kissing

word count: 5526

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Colby was relieved that the waitress, the only one that remembered him, decided to help. The moment she agreed, Colby gave her his number and left. She texted him not too long after, and he realized for a moment she never said her name. He planned to ask her the next day when they decided to meet up at his place.

It was weird to come back to his apartment, knowing that down the hall his best friend, his brother, lived there and didn't know who he was. Usually when Colby felt lonely, he would walk down the hall to Sam's and hang out for a bit. It was always nice to talk to Sam about anything and everything.

But now... he couldn't do that.

Colby tried to sleep during the night, but barely any rest came from it. He tossed and turned, hoping that when he would wake up, this would all just be some weird-ass nightmare.

When his cell phone rang the next morning at 9:34 A.M., it was an unfamiliar ringtone. As he rubbed his eyes awake, he glanced at the caller, the name 'Waitress' appearing on his screen.

I guess this wasn’t a dream after all.

"Yeah?" Colby groaned, squinting his eyes at the sunlight.

Her voice came through cheery, the tone too loud in Colby’s ears. “Let me up to your apartment. I'm here.”

He cleared his throat. “This early?”

“I figured you would want your normal life back as soon as possible, yeah?” She sassed.

He rolled his eyes. “Alright, give me a second. I'll come down and get you.”

Colby stumbled out of bed, running his fingers through his hair as he threw on a random shirt and jeans, slowly trudging down to the lobby of his apartment. She sat on a couch, tapping her foot against the carpeted floors. Her eyes were staring out the door, almost like she was looking at someone. When she heard Colby’s footsteps, her gaze pulled away from outside.

“Did I wake you?” She frowned, grabbing her bag next to her and standing up.

He shook his head. “You can't really be woken up if you barely slept.”

“I'm sorry to hear that.” She lightly bit her lip, following Colby to the elevator.

He shrugged tiredly. “It's okay.”

They both slowly got into the elevator, climbing up to Colby's floor. The loud 'ding' of the elevator broke their silence moments later. They walked to Colby's apartment, and he unlocked his door quickly.

She whistled quietly. “Woah, nice place.”

A half smile spread across Colby’s face. “Thanks.”

“No offense, but how do you pay for this place if you're not a social media person?” She questioned, stepping into the kitchen.

He raised an eyebrow. “That's... a good question. From what my mom told me over the phone yesterday, I worked all throughout high school and college, so maybe it's from that?”

“You only worked at Dairy Queen while you were in high school. You must have gotten a better job in college because there is no way you can afford this place.” She disagreed.

Colby smirked. “How'd you know I worked at Dairy Queen?”

“Well, for starters, my friend told me. And also, I did some research about you. But I'll get to that in a second.” She continued, her voice falling to a serious tone, “So... would you like to hear my theories?”

“Theories?” He puzzled.

“As to why everyone forgot about you.” The waitress explained.

Colby sat down on his barstool, exhaling. “Let's hear it.”

“Okay. For argument sakes, you're gonna have to just go with me on this. Because otherwise, I literally have no way to help you.” She started, already pacing slightly.

He cautioned. “...okay?”

“So last night, I tried to think of a reason why everyone would collectively forget about you. And the only conclusion I could come up with is that you're in an alternative universe.” She hypothesized.

Colby’s eyes widened, bugging out of his head. “A what?”

“An alternative universe. Basically, everything is pretty much the same in your life, except a few minor details,” she revealed. “That’s why you still live in this apartment, but you didn’t get here the same way you did in your other life, your real life.”

“This... it's way too early for this.” He grumbled, astonished.

She sighed, her hands resting on her hips. “The only other option is that this is a very long-winded prank that your friends are still pulling on you. Have you tried talking to any of your other friends besides Sam?”

“No, everyone else’s number is gone in my phone, which I can only assume means they don’t know me either.” Colby retorted. Then he took a deep breath as he pinched the bridge of his nose. “But, this doesn't make sense. How did I end up here if this isn't my life?”

“I’m not sure how you got here, but I think you’re here for a specific reason. I think you’re here to right a wrong that this Colby Brock did. I’m just… not entirely sure what that wrong might be.” She answered, unsure.

He huffed. “Okay… what am I supposed to do then? Stay here and hope we figure that out soon? I don't even know who I am in this universe.”

“And that's where my research comes into play.” She pulled a laptop from her bag quickly, placing it down on the counter and opening it. She scrolled through her browsers until she came across Colby's Facebook, which surprisingly looked active for someone who hadn't been personally on it in years.

I use Facebook? Gross.

“First, I started by seeing if you and Sam were friends on here, but that didn’t amount to much since Sam doesn’t have a Facebook. However, what I found out is that you and Sam did live in the same town, go to the same high school, and played in the same marching band. Sam talked about his early years before he was ‘famous’ in one of the first videos he posted, and I crossed referenced that with your profile and it all matches up.” She informed.

“That's strange,” he mumbled. “What did we do after high school?”

She stated. “You went off to college and majored in Business Management with a minor in Philosophy. You graduated early too.”

Me? Graduating early? I couldn’t even get through math without Sam’s help.

“What did Sam do?” He asked.

The waitress scrolled to another tab, opening it to show a search of Sam. “Well, a very quick Google search shows that he actually went to the same college as you but dropped out once his Vine career started to pick up. Then he went on to Musical.ly when Vine died. He moved out to LA in 2017 and started a YouTube channel after he met Katrina, and slowly met all of his- your, friends that way. He got a bump of followers once he started dating Kat because of her following.”

Colby’s mouth gaped at her words. “That can't be true. He would have never wanted that. I mean, I had to convince him that we should be on social media so that we could spread our message. Plus, he hates those channels that use their relationship for views.”

“Not this version of Sam. Or at least, it doesn't seem like it.” She commented.

He covered his face, groaning into his hands. “What the hell am I here for? What wrong have I done in this universe?”

Her voice low, she replied. “I think it might have to do with Sam.”

“But... he doesn't know me.” He dissented, sitting up.

She nodded. “I thought so too. However, after scrolling through all of your public photos, I found this.”

Colby squinted at the screen, an old photo of him and Sam stared back. They looked super young, probably sophomores in high school. They were both smiling, laughing at something. He vaguely remembered this day.

“So, we did know each other.” He bit his lip softly.

She hummed. “Yeah. And weirdly, it’s the only photo of the two of you on your profile. But it’s not the only strange thing.”

Scrolling to a different tab, she pulled up an old tweet of Sam’s. It read ‘Never thought you would be the one to hurt me. But I guess everyone can be surprising.’

Colby noted the date. “That was back in high school.”

“Yeah, and there’s a bunch like them. He talks about being betrayed and someone hurting him deeply. He never mentions, of course. But his tweets line up with some that you were tweeting at the same time.” She confessed.

The waitress clicked on a different tab and another tweet showed up, one from Colby’s account. He gazed at it, reading the words ‘If you hate me… imagine how I feel about myself.’

Colby’s face dropped. “Wait, what?”

“You don’t tweet that often, but when you do, you talk about righting wrongs and fixing things you fucked up.” She added, “You also hate on yourself a lot.”

He doubted, crossing his arms. “You think they’re connected?”

“I do. I think in this universe you fucked up somehow and hurt Sam. And I think you are here now to fix what the other you did.” She explained.

He ranted. “This is all so fucked! When I saw him yesterday, he acted like he didn’t even know me. How am I supposed to even go about this? What, do I just go down the hall and apologize for something I don’t even remember doing?”

“No. Sam's not in his apartment anyway. I saw him leave while I was waiting for you.” She mentioned nonchalantly.

He grunted. “Great, he could be anywhere in LA right now.”

“I know exactly where he is.” She smirked.

“What? How?” He questioned.

The waitress divulged. “This version of Sam has a favorite restaurant he goes to all the time. A lot of his fans know about it, thus one look through any of his fan accounts and you'll see it. It's called ‘Paradise’.”

“Sounds like a strip club.” Colby deadpanned.

She pouted. “It's not. But he goes there all the time, and I got us a table there last minute.”

“What exactly are we gonna do when we get there?” He crossed his arms.

“I was planning on going up to his table and talking to him, maybe asking him about you, see how he reacts.” She described.

Colby furrowed his brow, confused. “And what about me?”

She slid her laptop into her bag, zipping it up hastily. “Well… I didn’t really think that far ahead. But hopefully, whatever you did is forgivable, and we can just fix it right there.”

He murmured. “That's a lot to hope for.”

“It's better than sitting here and wasting daylight.” She grabbed her stuff and headed for the door. Colby followed suit, grabbing his keys.

He spoke as he locked his door. “What if this doesn’t work?”

She turned back to him. “It will. It has to.”

~~~

Paradise was a themed restaurant, which Colby thought was strange because his Sam never really liked those types of restaurants. The theme was nice, however, tropical and Hawaiian. It felt like something he, Sam, and a few friends would have gone to after a fun, drunk night.

As Colby and the waitress were escorted to their table, they both kept an eye out for Sam, glancing around nervously for the blonde boy.

“I think the worst thing about this universe version of me is how messy my car is,” Colby joked. “It’s like I live out of it.”

She shrugged, smiling. “It wasn’t that bad.”

“You should see my real car. My honey wagon is spotless.” He expressed, waving his hand.

“Honey wagon?” She queried.

“Long story,” he chuckled. Then abruptly, he gasped. “Holy shit, I just realized I never got your name.”

She cocked her head. “What? I never told you?”

He blinked. “No.”

She started. “It's-”

“Hi, I'm Tony, I'll be your server for today. Can I get you something to drink to start you guys off?” Tony greeted, cutting her off.

“Yeah, sure. A water for me.” She blurted out.

Colby added. “Coke, please.”

Tony smiled. “Okay, coming right up.”

Once Tony left, the waitress started scoping out for Sam again, her eyes widening once she saw him.

Her body stiffened, turning back to Colby. “He's over there, three tables down to your left.”

Colby gazed over his shoulder at his friend. Sam looked lost in thought, staring at his phone as he ate his food.

“Why is he alone?” He muttered.

“From some of the blogs I read, he likes to go out and eat by himself. Also, apparently, him and Kat are on the rocks.” She admitted.

“They love each other so much, it's kinda gross to be around them sometimes,” He quipped, but shook his head. “So to hear that...”

“I'm gonna head over.” She announced quickly.

Before he could speak, she left the booth. Colby watched her walk over to Sam, listening closely to their conversation as he ducked his head down.

“Hey... sorry to bother you, but are you Sam Golbach?” She asked sweetly.

“Yeah I am. Did you want something?” Sam stared blankly at her.

“Um, yeah?” She almost scoffed at his tone. “I’m a huge fan and I know this might be a weird question, but do you know someone named Colby Brock?”

Sam’s face remained stoic, but his eyes intensified. “No, I've never heard of that name before.”

“Are you sure, because I'm pretty certain that you and him are best friends.” She insisted.

He raised an eyebrow. “What are you talking about?”

Colby watched nervously as she pulled out her phone and showed Sam the photo. Sam scrunched up his face, his eyes scanning the image. “Yeah, no. Still don’t know who he is. What was his name again?”

“Colby Brock.” She stated.

“...Sorry. I’ve never heard a name like that before.” He mumbled, almost inaudibly. “Sounds stupid anyway.”

She cocked her head. “Wait, what?”

Colby clenched his fist, unable to hear this conversation any longer. He needed to come face-to-face with Sam. He slid out of his seat, walking hastily over to Sam and the waitress. Sam’s eyes narrowed as he gaped at Colby.

“Sam…” Colby started.

Sam growled. “Are you fucking serious, Colby? Did you really have to get one of my fans involved?”

“What?” Colby puzzled.

Sam jumped out of his seat, grabbing Colby’s arm and pulling him out of the restaurant. The waitress followed behind them, confused just as much as Colby. Sam’s feet stopped behind the back door of the building, turning to Colby without warning.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Sam barked.

Colby stepped back, surprised by Sam’s anger. “...Uh, I don’t know what you mean by that.”

Sam scoffed. “Why the fuck are you here? After all this time?”

“So, you do remember me.” Colby remarked.

“Yeah, I do. When you showed up at my place yesterday, it took me a minute to realize it was you, since you decided to dress up like a Hot Topic employee, but yeah, I knew it was you. Are you really gonna pretend in front of her that we don’t know each other?” Sam teared his eyes away from Colby’s, staring at the waitress suddenly. “Let me guess, he hasn’t told you the whole story, right?”

“I guess not.” She shrugged uncomfortably.

Sam chuckled darkly. “Of course not. If he told the whole story, he would have to admit he was an asshole, and God knows he’s not gonna do that.”

“What are you talking about?” Colby panted.

“Do you not remember? Well, I’ll give you a refresher. You and I became friends freshman year of high school. You were my best friend and I was yours. I trusted you. I trusted you with a lot of shit that I’ve never told anyone. Senior year of high school, right before we were about to graduate, right as we were starting a social media career, suddenly you don’t want anything to do with me; which would have been bad enough, but then I go and find out you and my girlfriend were hooking up behind my back,” Sam snapped, catching his breath for a moment. “So yeah, I remember you, Colby.”

Colby’s mouth fell open, his breathing speeding up.

None of this sounds like me. I would never hurt Sam like that.

“And now, you have the fucking audacity to show up when everything in my life is going great and I’m succeeding. I have fans, friends, and a girlfriend that all love and care about me, and you’re here trying to what? Stir up drama? Get some clout from me?” He demanded.

“If your friends and girlfriend love you, why are you eating all alone?” The waitress jeered.

Sam glared at her, biting his tongue. “And you made one of my fans hate me. Dope, dude.”

“Sam, look; I’m sorry for what I did. But that was years ago. I’m not who I was back then.” Colby choked out.

“I don’t care. I don’t want you in my life. Do you not understand what you did to me?” Sam persisted.

“I know I was an asshole, and I apologize for ever hurting you like that. But I miss you, and I want to work things out. Let me prove to you that I’m better.” He trembled, getting closer to Sam.

Sam backed up, blocking Colby. “No. No! You don’t get to miss me. You don’t get to miss a relationship you fucked up. It took me years to trust again. Hell, I’m still going through it. You don’t get to decide whether or not you’re in my life. Not anymore.”

“Sam… please.” Colby whimpered.

“Don’t show up at my place again. Don’t talk to my fans about me. Don’t act like you care about me. Because I’m done,” Sam stared into Colby’s eyes before going back into the restaurant. “I don’t care about you. Fuck off forever and leave me alone.”

Sam’s words punched Colby hard, taking the breath out of him instantly. He caught himself against the wall, his legs turning to gelatin under his weight.

He stuttered. “I… gotta leave. I-I have to…”

“Colby, relax. It’s gonna be okay.” She grabbed his hand.

He shook off her embrace. “What? No it’s not! Did you not hear what he said? Why would he want to be friends with a piece of shit like me?!”

“You were eighteen when this all happened. Give yourself a break.” She argued.

“No. I’m fucking terrible. This version of me is terrible. Of course he doesn’t want to be friends with me! I don’t even want to be me.” His voice quivered with anger, his body racing away from her.

She furrowed her brows, trying to keep up with him. “Where are you going?”

“I just need to leave. I can’t be here right now!” He grunted, his pace picking up.

She called after him, but Colby didn’t care. His heart slammed against his chest over and over again. Tears weld up into his eyes, blurring his vision as he began to run. He wanted to keep running until his legs gave out, until he couldn’t remember all the words Sam had said to him.

It dawned to Colby how much worse this universe was.

He wasn’t just stuck in a universe where Sam didn’t know him.

He was stuck in a universe where Sam didn’t want to know him.

In a universe where Sam didn’t love him.

And he had no way of escaping.

Colby must have blacked out while he ran, somehow maintaining to stay upright, because once his thoughts started to subside, and his body basically gave out under him, he noticed he was in a part of LA he had never been before. Some random neighborhood that was unfamiliar.

He shoved his body up against a metal telephone pole, sliding down to the ground. He tried catching his breath, gulping back breaths as he forced down the nausea overwhelming his senses. He wiped his face with his sleeve, feeling more tears rush down his cheeks.

His throat and chest burned with each sharp inhale. He whimpered into his hands, covering his face from the slowly retreating sun.

He slid his phone out of his pocket once he caught his breath, calling the only number he knew.

“Hey honey. What’s up?” His mom’s voice rang back sweetly.

Colby’s voice was monotone, exhausted. “You know who Sam is, don’t you?”

The line went quiet for a moment, all Colby could hear was her light breath.

“You told me not to talk about him. After you two stopped being friends, you said you never wanted to hear his name again.” She exhaled deeply, “I was taken aback when you asked about him yesterday.”

“He’s out here… in LA.” He responded.

She gasped lightly. “Did you run into him?”

He laughed bitterly. “You could say that.”

“Oh, Colby. I’m so sorry.” His mother consoled.

“There’s nothing to be sorry about, mama. I just…” Colby trailed off, unable to explain.

“Why don’t you come home this weekend?” She offered. “I miss you, you know.”

“I would love to. But…” His chest heaved as hot tears drifted down his cheeks. “That’s not my home.”

“Nonsense. You will always have a home here.” She assured him, her voice almost trembling.

He wiped a fallen tear, a broken smile coming to his face. “That’s good to know. I love you.”

She hummed. “I love you too, baby. Call me again soon.”

“I will. Bye.” He uttered breathlessly.

The sky was getting darker and darker, and Colby remained against the phone pole. He didn’t know how much time had passed, but suddenly his phone vibrated, a new message from ‘Waitress’ asking where he was. He sent his location, and she arrived twenty minutes later in his car. He stood up, stumbling to his passenger door. His legs were weak from the sprinting he had just done. As he got in, the cool AC blasted the sweat and tears off his face.

They didn’t speak, a quiet radio station playing in the background the only sound. She drove through the hills of LA, eventually hitting a peak. She parked the car as it overlooked LA, the lights looking like stars on the horizon.

She got out a minute later, walking over to the hood and leaning against it. He could see something in her hand but didn’t recognize it. Colby sat in the car by himself, not able to physically move his body from how exhausted he felt. Eventually, he achingly stepped out of the car, sitting next to her on the hood.

“I’m fucked.” Colby breathed.

She started. “I don’t think-”

“Please don’t try to make me feel better. I know you mean well, but I am fucked,” he rebutted, his voice dark. “I’m stuck here, in this universe, where Sam hates me. And as if that weren’t bad enough, I did terrible things, things I know I would never do to him. How the fuck am I supposed to apologize for those mistakes? I wouldn’t take him back if the roles were reversed.”

“Read this.” The waitress stated, handing him a journal.

He glanced down at the leather-bound book, slightly faded from years of writing. He unclicked the lock and opened it, looking down at the pages. It was his, a journal full of writings he had done.

“Where did you get this?” He inquired.

“You were right about your car being messy. But you’d be surprised what you fine if you just look.” She teased.

Colby read over the words, the first entry catching his eye. It was dated a year after him and Sam had graduated high school.

Sam is succeeding without me. I knew he would. He was always so smart when it came to business decisions. He just hit 10k followers on Vine. That’s crazy!

“What the hell is this?” Colby questioned.

She answered quickly. “This whole journal was you keeping up with Sam without him knowing. This version of you always paid attention to what he was doing, even if you guys were no longer friends.”

“I’m obsessed with Sam? That’s great.” He deadpanned.

“You’re not obsessed with Sam. Read this entry.” She skipped a handful of pages, finally stopping on one and showing it to him.

I hate myself everyday for the hurt I caused Sam. I can’t believe what an idiot I was back when I was 18. We could have gone so far together… but I had to go and fuck it up.

He scowled. “Am I supposed to be sad for myself?”

“Keep reading.” She pushed.

The night I chose to never speak to Sam again, I knew I made the wrong decision. But I had to. Sam was ready to go on and do bigger and better things. I was just gonna hold him back. I was terrified of failing, not only myself, but him. He deserves success. That’s why I had to ignore him. I have never been as smart as him. I would have ruined our chances of doing something great. And I have been proven right by how far he has gone without me.

“You stopped being his friend because you were scared, not because you didn’t care anymore.” She repeated.

He slid off the car, scoffing. “So what if I was scared to fail? Sam didn’t deserve the hurt I caused just because of that. And what about me cheating with his girlfriend?”

She jumped off the car, striding up to Colby. She grabbed the journal from his hand. “You didn’t cheat, look.”

She pointed at the bottom of the page, his eyes following her finger.

“Me and Lexi were never together! I hate her for telling him that. One night, they had a really big fight and she came over to my house to ask what she should do. I told her to break up with him if she really didn’t care anymore. And then she tried to hit on me. I told her off and threatened to tell Sam, but she got to him first. She must have told him her and I were together.” The waitress read aloud.

“Wait, if I never hooked up with his girlfriend, why wouldn’t I tell him that?” Colby hissed.

“I think at that point, you wanted the friendship to be over, and I think this solidified it.” The waitress responded.

“All this time I could have been friends with Sam, but I ruined it because I was scared? What a fucking idiot.” He spat.

“You weren’t an idiot,” She interjected. “You just disliked yourself so much you didn’t think you deserved happiness. At least now you know that this version of you isn’t as terrible as you thought.”

“Even with that being the case, Sam’s never gonna accept my apology. Why should he?” Colby lamented, “I let him down the worst ways. I broke his trust and loyalty.”

She shook her head, stepping towards him. “Give him some time. You might be surprised."

Before Colby could speak, his phone rang. He took his phone out of his pocket and looked at the number. It looked familiar, but he couldn’t place it.

“Hello?” He answered.

“Did you really mean it when you said you were sorry?” Sam spoke, his tone hesitant, but dry.

His breath hitched at the sound of Sam’s voice. “Of course. I never meant to hurt you, Sam.”

Sam paused for a moment, before breathing out. “I’m giving you one more chance. Tomorrow. Come by my place. You apparently know where I live.”

“Yeah,” Colby laughed awkwardly. “I’ll come by. Thank you… Sam.”

“Don’t thank me yet. I’ll see you later.” Sam stated, hanging up.

Once the call ended, Colby’s eyes stared down at his phone widely. He almost couldn’t believe that happened.

He inhaled sharply. “Sam just called me. He wants to meet me tomorrow.”

“That’s great.” Her voice just above a whisper.

“He wants to hear me out… he wants to give me another chance.” His face dropped with confusion. “How did he get my number?”

It hit Colby like a brick as he gazed up at the waitress, who bit her lip hiding her smile. “You…?”

“You weren’t the first person I showed the journal to,” she explained. “When you ran off, I was gonna go after you. As I got in your car, I saw this journal sticking out from under your seat. I read through it and… I knew I had to show Sam. I went back in and talked to him for an hour, showing him how much you were actually sorry. How much you had beat yourself up over hurting him. And then I gave him your number. I wasn’t sure if he was gonna call but-”

“Oh my God, you’re amazing!” Colby ran up to her, grabbing her by the waist and spinning her around. She gripped his shoulders tightly as they spun, laughing loudly into his ear. As her feet touched the ground, he stared into her eyes, his smile the brightest she had ever seen it. His hands glided up her body to her face, cupping her cheeks quickly. He smashed his lips against hers, his heart pounding as he did. Her hands lowered to his chest, her grasp on his shirt tightened as she felt herself lose her footing and back up into the car.

As they stumbled, he realized what he was doing, pulling away quickly. “Shit… I’m sorry. I-I shouldn’t have-”

“No, it’s okay,” She giggled. “I’m just… surprised.”

He exhaled, letting his arms fall away from her body. “Me too.”

They leaned against the car, keeping a slight distance from each other. A light blush rested on both their faces; however, it was hard to see with the setting sun, something they were both grateful for.

The waitress sighed, breaking the moment of silence. “I think I know why this happened. Why I was the only one who remembered you…”

He raised an eyebrow, slightly side-eyeing her. “Really?”

“I lied to you when we first met. I wanted to seem a bit cooler than I am, but I don’t think I can hide that anymore.” She began, nervously.

Colby’s face relaxed a little, surprised at her words. “Okay.”

“My friend didn’t introduce me to you guys… I introduced her… to you.” She confessed.

A soft grin came to his face. “I had a feeling.”

She rolled her eyes. “No, you didn’t.”

“Yes, I did! I totally did,” he snickered. “Not every fan knows I worked at Dairy Queen. And… no average fan would have helped me get Sam back the way you did.”

“I think there’s a reason for all of this. I think in your universe, your life… you don’t know me.” Her voice dropped suddenly, making Colby turn to her.

“That’s true, I don’t.” He nodded.

Her eyes met his, a sad glint reflecting in the moonlight. “But I think the reason for that is because… you’re not supposed to.”

“What do you mean?” He replied, his face twisting in confusion.

“I think you and I are only supposed to have met here, in this universe. But not in yours.” She glared up at the sky, “Maybe in some weird way, I’m your guardian or guide or something.”

Colby’s thoughts raced. “So, what you’re saying is-“

“This might be the last time you’ll ever see me. You did what you had to do. You got Sam and you to talk again.” Her voice cracked as she held back tears, “You can go home.”

He grabbed her hands, holding them close to his body. “But… I don’t want to leave if it means I don’t know you.”

A hitched breath fell from her lips, a smile appearing from his words. “If we’re meant to be, we’ll see each other again.”

“That’s not fair.” He shook his head, a deep frown settling on his face.

“I know, but it’s how it has to be.” She whispered.

He rested his forehead against her, breathing deeply. “Can I… get one more kiss?”

She bit her lip softly. “I thought you’d never ask.”

They leaned in, his breath fanning across her lips for a split second before he pulled away.

“Wait…” He shuddered. “I never got your name.”

A soft smile came to her lips. “I’ll tell you after.”

His arms wrapped around her, pressing her body into his as their lips collided. He held onto her for dear life, terrified that the moment he pulled away, she would be gone.

He could feel things around him slow down, almost melting away, but he couldn’t tell if it was from the beauty of their kiss making him dizzy. A whirling silence overcame his senses. A burning sensation sliced through his abdomen; his breath ripped from his lungs.

A heavy darkness overtook his vision and for the briefest of moments, he felt absolutely nothing.

Except her lips.

<< |

[stayevildarling]

Traitor- Cordelia Goode x Reader

Chapter 7: Good for you

word count: 1.3k

warnings: cursing, angst/sad, fluffy ending

There is a moment of silence, Misty simply looking anywhere but you and you debating whether to just break the awkward silence because after all you never blamed Misty. She might have been the person that stole Cordelia's heart but she did that before you even met Cordelia and you really can't blame her, not now especially knowing that nothing ever happened between them until you did actually leave.

''So how have things been Misty, at the academy I mean?'' you ask trying to break the silence and starting a casual conversation because indeed you are curious how things have been going since you left.

She looks up with a shocked expression as she feared you would be furious and angry at her and not even glance at her, let alone speak to her. Misty smiles softly before clearing her throat and replying ''Oh you know good really, good. The summers are awfully busy'' she chuckles and you nod your head remembering how busy it was in the academy when all the parents sent their children here over the holidays.

''Yeah, I remember the summers they truly sucked'' you say and chuckle and the blonde does the same. For a moment there is silence and Misty simply looks at you before taking a few steps closer and whispering ''I am truly sorry Y/N''

You watch as she bites her lip and swallows hard, trying to fight the tears back because just like Cordelia, she never actually meant for you to leave your family and something always felt wrong about the relationship with the supreme because Misty knows how important family is and having your own tribe and it broke her heart, blaming herself for causing you to lose yours.

''Misty'' you start and take a few steps closer to her ''Hey it's not your fault honestly'' you try and reassure her and she meets your eyes, not really seeming to believe you just yet. You take a deep breath before explaining

''I think it was just the universe and one of those wrong person wrong time things, we all have our special someone that is meant for us and that is clearly you and Cordelia'' you say and smile and even though that truth hurts, you are well aware there is no point of denying that or hiding it now.

Misty looks at you shocked that you are able to think of the whole situation like this and how there doesn't seem to be any anger involved whatsoever. ''I can't help but think we drove you away'' Misty confesses, her voice breaking.

''Maybe it was for the best you know'' you say and smile as you think back to your life that you built in LA and even if it took a lot of hard work and tears you are proud for the things you managed to achieve and where you are currently in your life.

''So you are happy now?'' Misty asks carefully and you smile and nod ''Yes I am happy with how things are'' you reply and you see a genuine smile across the blonde's features.

''You know you can always come back to visit whenever you want right? after all the girls here are your tribe'' she says and you chuckle at her little metaphor and how sweet she can be. ''I mean it Y/N you will always have a home here'' she says with a more serious expression and you nod before mouthing the words ''Thank you''

Meanwhile downstairs:

''Madison how many times do I need to tell you that we do not smoke in this house'' Cordelia scolds angrily and takes the cigarette out of Madison's mouth.

''What is going on anyway?'' the supreme asks and looks at Zoe, Madison, and Queenie and they simply shrug innocently while Mallory and Coco laugh in the background. Cordelia looks at them a bit suspiciously before remembering all the times when she found you and the girls with the exact same expressions on your faces after either doing something against the supreme's rules or just utterly silly.

''Now stop arguing, we are here to celebrate Zoe's birthday'' she scolds and Madison simply smirks and replies ''Fine Cordy, calm down'' before Zoe argues ''Well does that mean we can have cake then?'' and Cordelia simply smiles and nods.

''I will get the cake'' Queenie says excitedly and pretty much everyone runs into the kitchen, while Cordelia smiles and shakes her head at how silly the girls can sometimes be and how they still bring a smile onto her face even after all these years.

As Cordelia walks back into the corridor and up the stairs, on her way to her office, she fears the state she would find you and Misty in and she worries that maybe she shouldn't have left either of you alone. As she walks up the stairs her heart beats faster and many scenarios are in filling her mind but she is relieved as she sees you and Misty, standing by the door and casually talking about the academy, no sign of any awkwardness visible.

Cordelia smiles softly as she sees you two because she always hoped things would turn out this way and that somehow the situation with you could change so she could watch you in the academy again, engaging with everyone and bringing your usual joy and laughter into the coven.

''I see you two are catching up'' she says softly and your attention focuses on the supreme again ''Are they okay now?'' Misty asks and Cordelia simply nods before looking at you and saying ''The girls have cake, would you like some?'' and you look at Misty before nodding ''Well, I have always had a soft spot for cake'' you say with a smile

Cordelia and Misty chuckle and you follow their lead towards the stairs before stopping and asking ''Hold up, are you two engaged?'' you ask after realizing that Misty is wearing the exact same ring as Cordelia.

The supreme had already been halfway down the stairs at this point, when she heard your question and she turns around with a slightly worried and shocked expression, leaving the explaining up to Misty.

''We don't really like labels and stuff you know, it's more of a promise'' she explains and you smile softly and reply ''I am happy for you both'' before adding ''Truly'' as you see Cordelia's expression and that she still seems so nervous and unsure about all of this.

As you walk down the stairs of the academy, you feel relieved and you can't help but feel like this is a new start on your journey and that maybe there is no need to hide anymore and just avoid the academy whenever you are in New Orleans, and that instead you truly do have a second home to go to.

You see Madison and the girls bringing some cakes and cutlery into the living room before Zoe sees you and quickly scans the faces of you, Cordelia, and Misty. You see a little relieved smile as she sees no sign of any negative emotions. ''All okay?'' she mouths and looks at you and you smile and nod ''All okay''.

''By the way, Y/N didn't you mention a plus one, Zoe is still waiting for her present'' Madison says while carrying some brownies that she made for Zoe into the large dining room.

''Madison that is not true?!'' Zoe scolds and Misty can't help but laugh at the blonde's boldness.

''Um yeah- I am not sure where she -'' you are about to say but you are quickly interrupted when you hear a knock on the front door but the door already being open and it creaking open slightly.

As you see some familiar hands wrap around the slightly parted door, pushing it open you can't help but chuckle as the universe keeps managing to find these perfect moments.

[regrettablewritings]

How They Spend the Quarantine (Tadashi Hamada, Lucifer Morningstar, Dewey Finn, Wade Wilson, Harley Quinn, & Benoit Blanc)

Just a fun (?? is that even responsible to say?) little thing I’ve been thinking about while slogging through this neverending hellscape of an extended lockdown.

Tadashi Hamada

When San Fransokyo was ordered to go into a lockdown, there were mixed feelings.

At first, Tadashi had a hint of optimism that this would mean more time to work on his prospective projects . . . But then he quickly realized that his projects mostly required tools and space offered by the campus. He could technically make do at home, but it wouldn’t quite be the same considering the garage was considered Hiro’s space.

Somberly had to clean out his lab and take whatever he could home.

Cue the rest of the group (sans Fred and Hiro) griping that at least his style of science could travel well enough to be somewhat continued off of university grounds.

Helps do delivery for The Lucky Cat. It helps him get out the house, and it’s simply helpful altogether.

Uses Baymax frequently to make sure everyone down to Mochi is sanitized, and nobody’s running a fever.

Nearly as frequent a sanitizer as Aunt Cass.

He starts most days prepared to be productive, only to stop and poke fun at Hiro, who’s almost always got his eyes trained on a video game.

Tadashi realizes three hours later that he, too, has been playing the game as Player 2.

Learned how to make facial masks with Aunt Cass. He already knew how to sew a little but frankly, making the masks made him realize he could have a new hobby on his hands. He’s currently trying to figure out how to make Mochi a little vest . . .

Lucifer Morningstar

B o r e d. A s. F u c k.

At first, he thinks everyone being forced to go home would work in his favor -- surely some rule-breakers would sneak out and try to bunk up with the Devil, right?

Well . . . Kinda? Once Chloe found out and scolded him about it, the idea died real fast. Plus, he realized he wasn’t quite fond of the possibility of being around someone who could pop up with a disgusting human sickness at any point during their time with him. Smearing their snot all over, coughing into his Egyptian cotton sheets . . . Nope, never mind, he is perfectly content having the penthouse to himself, thank you very much!

Except he’s not.

The poor bastard is going crazy by himself -- he’s just not used to being without some kind of company!

“At least in Hell, you could tell there were people around you based on the screaming!” he’d whine at his phone during his hourly video chat with Chloe.

Oh yes: The video chats. He tries to make them hourly with anyone he can get a hold of (namely, his long-suffering detective) but this clearly never plays out as he would like for it to: If he had it his way, everyone would respond in an instant and let him bounce mainly one-sided conversations off of them -- basically, what he did before all this went down.

What usually winds up happening is he gets hung up on or nobody answers him at all out of sheer annoyance over his clinginess.

Ironically, he’s not exactly crazy about when Amenadiel initiates those “family calls”. He insists it’s healthy and normal for them to do this and even calls Luci out on the hypocrisy, but let’s face it: Lucifer finds it obnoxiously gushy and weird.

He works his way into Linda’s video appointment books to help him cope with his boredom and admitted need for interactions. She doesn’t mind offering him counsel, but once Lucifer starts attempting to butt in during others’ appointment calls, it becomes an issue.

Has, at some point, gotten buzzed down in Lux and streamed himself attempting to pole dance. It drew quite a bit of attention.

He’s managed to gain a bit of a following and some companionship by streaming himself playing piano and singing. It’s not the same thing as having an actual audience, in his opinion, but it will have to do for now.

He’s never been one to binge with regards to TV shows or movies, but after the first week, he decided to binge watch every work action star Wesley Cabot was ever in.

Makes sure his staff still gets paid well. After all, he’s pretty well-off; there’s no need to make an innocent bartender’s life a living hell just because some other rich bastard fucked up, yeah?

Going off this, should he need to order to-go or anything, we already know he tends to tip as handsomely as he looks.

Dewey Finn

Kids were being sent to Horace Green on tuitions worth more than what some people saw in half a year -- of course the school was going to continue classes online!

While technically an afterschool instructor, the program is popular enough for parents to expect it to continue, and for Dewey to be kept on payroll.

Initially, he was pretty smug: He’s one if, if not, the youngest teacher-figure at Horace Green, so surely that means he’s more tech savvy than his older, stiffer coworkers, right? For once, he’s ahead of the curve!

Wrong: Figuring out Zoom was a headache, and then there was the realization of just how dependent his classes were on actual physical presence.

Plus, let’s be real: Dewey’s Internet connection was decent on its own, but craptastic when compared to those of his wealthier students. The lag is strong with this one.

Has definitely accidentally messed up the background on his screen. Somehow wound up with the Beetlejuice background and got so frustrated, he wound up keeping it there for two whole sessions.

In spite of the slight issues regarding lag, they pull through and try to resume lessons as best they can.

Tries to keep optimism by pointing out how this is a new form of entertainment they could be pioneers in.

Some days, it’s just going so wack or everyone’s so bleh that Dewey just assigns for them to watch a music documentary or something.

“Okay, kids, Mr. Finn’s hungover and clearly Summer is the only one who went to bed before 3am. So what I’m gonna have you do is watch . . . Prrrbbbb . . . Amadeus.” “How is Amadeus rock-related?” “It had a rock single, shut up. Anyway, we meet back next class and talk about what we saw, m’kay? M’kay. Over and out.”

Next class, he’s filled with dread as Summer produces an in-depth analysis of the relationship or lack thereof between character and the presence of talent as evidenced by Mozart’s abilities juxtaposed with his immature presentation and -- Dewey just can’t keep up. Sure, Summer, why not?

When he’s not busy teaching, however, he’s using the lockdown to work on some new material. Or just screwing around.

Otherwise, let’s be real, Big Boy’s living the high life in a place of his own: Playing video games (Animal Crossing, recently got back into Team Fortress 2, is trying to finally finish Ocarina of Time); eating a not very great diet; staying up late, napping at weird times; all in the name of quarantine.

If he orders delivery or to-go, he tips the best he can.

Wade Wilson

On one hand, murking never goes on lockdown. But on the other . . . He’s already technically not well, why risk that even with his mutation?

Oh, fuck I just remembered he lives at the X Mansion, never mind turn back turn back oh god give us free --

The situation is tense to say the least. There’s Wade, who’s sensible enough to know why the quarantine is in place . . . and then there’s everyone else, who knows Wade’s full of shit.

And by everyone, I “coincidentally” mean Colossus, Nega Sonic, Yukio, Domino, Cable, and Russ because the already small world of the sequel just got smaller by the fact that everyone is bound to a large but nonetheless single estate whose size has probably decreased from that of the First Class timeline.

You know those videos of the usual Quarantine Characters? Wade is somehow yet still unsurprisingly all of them, save for the frequent sanitizer. He raids the pantry frequently, sleeps at all hours, considers scooting a swivel chair down the halls exercise for the thighs, blasts video games, and so on.

Going back to the sanitizer thing, it’s not that he’s just not exactly known for being tidy. Colossus occasionally does drag him out of bed at a decidedly decent time (read: any time before 11am) to try and get him excited about cleaning up around the mansion, but it rarely ends well. At this point, the safest option is to just remind Wade to wash his hands for 20 seconds as necessary.

Has acquired a Switch and visits everyone’s island, often to bonk them on the head with a net or gift them with weird crap they don’t necessarily want. For the “friends” from Sister Margaret’s, he has somehow acquired their Dodo Codes. Nobody knows how he did this. 

Facetimes Dopinder frequently.

“Precious, you’re the beacon of light in this cold, cruel world.” “I miss you, too, DP --” “Sshshsh! I’m having a moment . . .” *weeps*

On the many occasions he orders delivery, he tips by giving the delivery person something expensive from the mansion that they can sell. Prof. X is loaded, after all. Plus, he more or less isn’t even present in this universe, it’s not like he’s gonna miss anything he can’t see/probably doesn’t even know exists in his house. The problem is, Colossus does exist and does notice and does care when things go missing. Leading to many a delivery person getting caught up in shenanigans at that weird school in the boonies that they either don’t get paid enough to deal with or couldn’t pay to make up.

“Oh, pawn shops are closed?” asks the man who looks like a skinned avocado if avocados had human skin. “Don’t worry, lemme hook you up -- I know some guys --” “DEADPOOOOOLLL!!” roars a Russian accent from inside the house. “WHERE IS THE BRONZE BUST OF THE PROFESSOR!?” The poor delivery person’s eyes widen as they realize that the odd cargo they’ve been presented with apparently holds some value of some kind. But before they can flee, the avocado man blurts, “Shit! Leave the pizza in the bushes, look me up on my Youtube page, byyyeeee!!”

In his defense, Wade does hold up his end of the deal. Much like the Dodo Codes, nobody knows what strings he pulled. They just accept it and move on.

Harley Quinn

Surprisingly compliant.

She’s crazy, not stupid: Staying at home may suck, but what sucks more is making things harder on people who may not fair so well. Besides, she’s spent time in a maximum security prison -- she can handle staying cooped up in her own home. At least home has TV, books, and snacks.

When she hears people are still going out without masks or plotting to have a protest, she strongly considers firing up the old Fun Gun and popping the next sign-carrying Karen she sees with a tit full of cadmium yellow powder.

Seriously, stay the fuck home and fuck up your own hair; this is the perfect time to make mistakes with your looks, it ain’t like you got anywhere to be or anyone to impress.

“STAY THE FUCK HOME, BITCH!” P O W!!! “JUST GO GREY ALREADY, WE ALL KNOW YOUR HAIR AIN’T THAT COLOR ANYMORE, YOU’RE THREE YEARS FROM BEING IN THE GODDAMN AGE-BRACKET!!!” P O W!!!!

Only leaves her new apartment to grab groceries and to take Bruce on a walk. She actually refuses to steal or cause a scene during this shitshow because she may be a bad guy, but she sure ain’t evil.

So far, there haven’t been complaints about the fact that she’s walking a hyena down a public street. Maybe it’s because there’s hardly anyone out? Maybe it’s because Gothamites just can’t be bothered to be fazed by it . . . Or maybe it’s because she made him a little mask for his snout.

“In this house, we wash our hands for at least 20 seconds, kid.”

Lets the forest reclaim the earth, so to speak. She was never really shaving anything for anyone but herself before, but now it just seems especially pointless.

Spends almost every day in a kigurumi. To give her a semblance of routine, she has a pink bear one she calls her “Sunday Suit.” She doesn’t know it’s not Sunday because the days just blur but Cass just doesn’t have the heart to tell her; she seemed so proud of herself . . .

Like everyone else, she’s gotten Animal Crossing. She’s trying to create an all-preppy island with a few exceptions (Astrid = Aesthetic, m’kay?)

Tips nicely when ordering delivery.

Benoit Blanc

As young and spry in nature as the gentleman sleuth would like to think of himself, he would really rather not test the dangers of the situation and go about all foolhardy -- he’s staying home!

In theory, it’s only logical and therefore perfectly fine. But in practice . . . God, he wishes he’d invested more in things to occupy himself with when home.

It wasn’t that Benoit was never home, he just never felt too much of a need to invest in a fancy entertainment center -- the fanciest he ever got was an iHome.

The beginning of the quarantine served as the perfect time for him to read over case files, catch up on paperwork, even catch up on some reading he’d been putting on hold since God knows when due to cases popping up left and right. But that dried up quicker than he’d assumed, and that’s when he was faced with what a man of his mind dreads the most: Boredom.

Finally caved and decided to hook up Amazon Fire.

Expected to use the one-month free trial on Netflix and be just fine but once the lockdown in his area got extended and he realized he wasn’t going to be able to catch up with Crazy Ex-Girlfriend at this rate, he caves even further and buys a subscription.

Fully delights at the influx of platforms uploading Broadway recordings; when The Show Must Go On put on Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dream Coat, followed by The Phantom of The Opera, it was a treat, I tell you!

Sanitizes often, despite hardly ever leaving his house besides to have a smoke or to go grab groceries. Honestly, it’s less about cleaning at this point so much as it is finding something to occupy his focus when he feels there’s nothing else to so.

Takes zinc after every meal to help lessen the intensity of any ailment that might hit him.

Definitely owns a facemask. There’s a good chance it’s from Marta or one of his relatives, and there’s another good chance the pattern is as flamboyant as his clothing. He’s delighted.

Benoit tries not to rely too much on delivery,  as he’d much rather just cook. On the rare occasion where tipping comes up, however, he gives as generously as he can.

Bonus: There’s a slight chance he might have acquired a companion to foster early on in the quarantine. Benoit hadn’t had a pet since childhood, a crime of which he was admittedly melancholic of his own involvement. However, his surprisingly busy lifestyle just wouldn’t suit a four-legged friend, now could it?

Well, now there’s time to. Besides, it would certainly ease the potential feeling of loneliness to have someone or something with whom he could interact with.

Admittedly, when shelters began encouraging people to invest time in taking home a companion, he’d been looking more for a comrade on the canine side of the spectrum -- but darn, if Duke wasn’t a handsome cat.

A lovely grey-and-white cat with eyes that matched his own, Duke has become the one Benoit monologues to (because in all honesty, the man is a performer at heart, in need of an audience to speak his mind to and portray a thought before). Plus, he doesn’t appear to mind it when Benoit finds himself belting out in tone-deaf notes to showtunes while washing the dishes: The mark of a true companion.

At this rate, he’s probably not going to keep fostering Duke when things calm down -- he’s probably going to just straight up adopt him.

Stay safe & healthy!

[abundantchewtoys]

HS Epi: Meat p17-18 reaction

I've realized how page 15 ended with the command "Close your eyes" and page 16 started with Rose talking with her eyes closed. :p

Rose talked about how she'd wake up after looking the demon on her chest into the eyes. She then proceeded to look Dirk straight in the eyes and fall under the spell or whatever it was.

If Dirk truly started influencing Rose and it wasn't just the narration being overly dramatic, then I think it started as she talked about caring about the pieces on the board.

I'm not as sold on the idea that Dirk could be turning into the post-victory end boss anymore. I mean, it's certainly plausible. It could even be that the remaining Reload B2 kids (minus Dirk himself) team up with John against him.

But I think the last paragraph on page 16 could also be interpreted differently. Maybe part of ascending to his ultimate self, for a Prince of Heart, is to "destroy" the boundaries that exist on what he sees as his "self". In that he learns how much of his qualities and flaws exist in other people too. If he can see into his heart, he might learn empathy and become a better person.

Okay, the last sentence seemed to show Dirk take over the narration, but it could also be the visual cue that the narration switched from 3rd person to Dirk's POV, if only for that sentence. It could also be taken to point towards Dirk's growing self-awareness: he's becoming aware of the fact he's a fictional character. In that case, what would it take for John to come to this understanding? To "understand what it all means"?

As for Dirk taking over the other people somehow, growing perhaps a hivemind... Eh. We've had confirmation that Jake looked into his eyes without a problem. Granted, that may have been before Dirk ascended to the god tiers.

Now, next page could stay with Dirk, but I hope it switches back to John. I expect him to undergo some dream sequence before awakening, hopefully still alive. And I hope Terezi will be there when he wakes up. Though it will be sad to see her reaction, if she's learned about Vriska.

==>

AAHHHHHHH he really took over the narration!!! ... Pony Pals Epilogue?

Well then. I... Okay, I wonder whether he'll stick to narrating proceedings on Earth C, or how far his self awareness has grown. DOES he know what Doc Scratch knew, Lord English... Reload Dirk?

"None of my friends have noticed it yet, but you have." He's acknowledging us, the readers. Dear god.

"Anyone paying attention could have guessed by now who’s really telling this story." ... Andrew Hussie? Does Dirk want to wrestle control of his life from the author?

"I’ve caught you leering at some pretty personal moments. Are you having fun being a voyeur?" I came to read a story and I'm honestly feeling so attacked right now. Also, I feel I'm being compared to Caliborn in this.

"Knowing their thoughts are transcribed by a third party, does it fill you with a sense of unease, of sickness, sensing that the observations made of their mental interiors may be tainted?" So, Dirk is calling us out on reading their story, as well as indicating to us that what we read about them, even their personal feelings, can be removed from the truth. But, it's not as if HE's going to want to be our narrator, right? Plus, his own POV is still not 'the' truth.

"I am specific. I have a name, an agenda, a vision. I am a monolith of concentrated narrative authority, relaying events to you, and swaying them as I see fit. Whereas you are pointedly nonspecific. You are the generalized, impotent witness to all this." Dirk is self agrandizing himself and describing the MSPA Reader here. He's actually started sounding a lot like Lil Hal, now that he's so convinced of his intellectual prowess. That's not a great evolution.

"I even have the ability to decide what “you” actually means. I can take the “you-ness” away from you, and put it inside another passive mark, such as John Egbert." Does he mean, like, right now, he can decide he's aiming this narration at John? Or... is it what's Blaperile telling me now, that this is supposed to indicate Dirk was the narrator for the entire epilogue up till now? If that's so, everything said in the narration, including the prompts, has just become that much more unreliable.

"So what makes John so special? The answer is something I’m sure you’ve suspected all along but would rather not face, which is: probably nothing. He isn’t special. He’s quite ordinary, I assure you. Boring, even, and getting less interesting by the minute as he’s forced to confront his absolute lack of heroic purpose except as a pawn to be manipulated by a fatalistic reality." Dear god, is John going to have to fight for control of the narration? As for the first thing Dirk says: well, it's true that John is supposed to represent the everyman, the guy that things happen to instead of that he makes them happen, the audience avatar. Now, if John learns about this fact, he might decide to do something against it, snap out of his stupor.

"Anyone can be endowed with this you-ness, if I think it achieves a certain goal." So, will we switch to other you's later on still, narrator guy?

"Even if the objective is merely to demonstrate the gambit’s potential, to reveal the effortlessness behind it. To make a show of who matters and who doesn’t, and even if they do matter, for how long and for what purpose, as dictated solely by the allocation of this faculty. You-ness can be stripped from the lowly Egbert just as easily as it was given, and then bestowed upon the mighty Serket, but even then only long enough to dismiss the vainglorious spotlight hog from the narrative forever. Good riddance." Note that he's saying the "you-ness" is not meant to imply importance to the story. He's saying the effect is used for show. But then this still IS a story, and showing events is part of telling a story. It's like he's trying to convince us he has control over the story, but his control is PART of the story, so yeah, he still hasn't escaped.

... Good to see Homestuck can still become even more meta, after all this time.

"No, in truth, the time has come to make my presence known in order to start bringing my plans to fruition. It’s time to get down to fucking business.

John needs to wake up." Wow. It's time for Dirk's masterpiece then, taking the biggest control he can ever have, weaving the biggest scheme. To what end, then?

Simply to confront John - in Dirk's eyes, a random character in the story, if one with a lot of focus inside the story - with his existence as a fictional character? Will he guide John to Andrew Hussie's ghost?

Also, will the narration even switch back to black ink, I wonder? If it does, though, we'll still be left with the eery knowledge that what we're reading is, even in the first person, narrated by Dirk.

I'm starting to get the distinct impression that Caliborn didn't just botch his maturation process, he also bodged his god tier process. He still took control of the narration, and "expanded" his consciousness through other means (soul sludge merge), and then took control of his story in the multiverse... only for Paradox Space to still damn him in the end.

Also, didn't John speak through the narration during one of the later Homosuck Acts? When he zapped into Caliborn's room? I wonder if he'll do that again some time quick.

Lastly, I wonder if this is why the epilogues are in text format. So that this thing with the narration works even better. Guess What Pumpkin and VIZ Media are publishing this as a novel.

It's a great use of the format Homestuck exists as on the web, making use of the site's template for good color contrast.

==>

Start of Epilogue Four.

"You wake up.

JOHN: wh-what?" ... Is John going to become aware of the change in narrative 'colour' from the start? Starting to speak in dialogue with it, becoming recalcitrant? ... Is Dirk going to start filling the shoes of WV, Terezi, Karkat and all those poor souls guiding John on his story?

"You finally process the true magnitude of what has happened. The Furthest Ring has been completely destroyed. And you’re all alone." Wow. So, uh, what now? And, what of all the universes inside the sessions in the Furthest Ring? How could they have been destroyed, if Universe C is contained somewhere in there?

"Well, you’re vomiting up everything in your stomach. Rest assured, it’s pretty gross" Well, uh, at least he's now finally gotten rid of all that uncooked meat filling his stomach. Seriously, that probably wasn't being digested all that well.

How long before John acknowledges something is wrong with the narration, I wonder?

"You seriously need to get it together. You look like absolute shit right now, my man. In fact, you really should strongly consider issuing an apology for the mess you’re making." And here we have the first instance of Dirk definitely abusing his power.

"JOHN: i’m... JOHN: i’m sorry." :/ What was even the point of making him do that. Just to upset the MSPA Reader, I suppose.

This is basically: what if Lil Hal was an exile.

"Everyone’s dead." Everybody's dead, Dave.

"Well, almost everyone.

But certainly the vast majority of what qualifies as “everyone” in your current frame of reference." John himself excluded, of course. But see, this implies there are more people around, still alive. ... Then again, the narration wouldn't be lying if there were also still dreambubble ghosts. They'd still be dead, after all.

"And most of your friends—Rose, Dave, absurd Cat Dave, and hundreds of ghosts" Not starring in this list: Jade, Meenah. Of course, unreliable narrator goes without saying at this point.

", who all valiantly contributed to a victory which you’re only now beginning to question the functional necessity of." Well, Rose couldn't see "beyond the story" yet when she sent John on this mission. Care to enlighten us, oh wise and omniscient narrator?

"JOHN: functional... necessity?

JOHN: that... that doesn’t sound like something i would think." Ahhhhhh... That feels good. It took John all of two minutes to figure out something was wrong. I'm honestly quite impressed he wasn't hornswaggled on some crazy MacGuffin hunt first.

"That’s because it’s not." Huh! I'd actually thought Dirk would lead with: 'Yes, it is.' Guess he realizes the jig is up!

"You’ve finally noticed.

No, not me. You go back to ignoring the fact that I’m the voice in your head. You noticed how it hurts when you breathe." Ah. So he just goes right back to forcing John to dance to his tune. Tssh.

"On the other hand, the tooth is poisoned." Uh, how? Why? Poison? ... Yet another way in which Lord English was OP'd.

"So you’re pretty much fucked either way, and that’s really all there is to say on the matter.

JOHN: sigh.

You sigh in painful resignation, and wonder what to do next." Dirk is trying to put John's REAL thoughts into a different context. He's basically replaced the narrative, so... Yeah, this really IS a callback to Pony Pals. God damnit. Who'd have thought that would be foreshadowing THIS.

"English is dead, so you suppose you can go home, right? It’s tempting. You consider zapping back to Earth C, being done with this nightmare for good, and never breathing a word of it to anyone ever again. But you can’t yet, can you?" He can't because he won't, or because you won't let him? Does John want to ensure the safety of Universe C, first? Or will he want to check on Terezi first, potentially (we wouldn't be able to tell) nudged into it by Dirk.

"Why not, you wonder? What’s the harm? You’re right, it would probably be a harmless decision, in the grand scheme of things." ... Don't tell me we'll have ANOTHER split path coming up.

"How about Jade though? She could still be out there somewhere, injured, alone, scared. And it’s your fault, isn’t it?" John turned his back on the body, so he's now unsure what happened to it. It's probably a red herring though, planted by Dirk.

... If it even IS Dirk. I mean, the narration could just as suredly still be coming from Andrew in-universe, and he'll go "tadaa! fooled you twice!" at some point...

"You decide that no matter how terrible you feel, you should look around first before you leave. You were the one who dragged her here. You owe her at least that much. Plus, there’s someone else on your mind, isn’t there?" ... I wonder if Dirk can only influence his thoughts in the Furthest Ring. Actually, I doubt it. Since, when you think about it... Jake fantasizing about Dirk is put into a different light entirely now. As were all the turns of phrases that were perhaps a little too sarcastic for the situation to warrant. I had a few times where I thought: the narration doesn't feel the same, but I put it up to the new format as well as the co-writers. Now, though...

"You proceed to wander for a long fucking time. Time passes differently here than it does for everyone else. Here, I’ll simulate it for you. I just left to go take a piss. Then I microwaved myself a hot pocket. Then I came back. In the time it took me to do that, you just spent hours drifting around the entire circumference of the black hole thinking sad-sack thoughts about the years of inaction that led you to this point, intermittently humming the Ghostbusters theme to yourself. You get so worked up about one of your GB freestyles that you almost miss it." Now Dirk's just showboating. On the other hand, I wouldn't mind hearing a couple of John's Ghostbusters freestyles.

"There. Eleven o’clock. Do you see it? It’s that tiny dot floating over there." Eleven, eh? So, what should I be betting on? Not Jade? Terezi perhaps? Or a random item from a dreambubble?

"You scramble to catch it before it drifts any closer to the event horizon. Got it. What the hell?" Huh, it's something very small? ... Not a firefly, is it? ... If so, in come the theories that it's actually Alternate Calliope.

"It feels familiar, but you want to make sure you’re not imagining it. A wallet. Your dad’s wallet. You chew your lip and press your fingers into the soft leather." What the-... Huh. Well, I was kind of hoping John would have a vision of his Dad, in his dream. This might lead up to something more! I'm reminded of Doomed John seeing a vision of his Dad in the dreambubbles.

So, the ACTUAL wallet ended up in Aradia's hands. John found it left for him on the battlefield, then CD? stole it, Liv Tyler took out the Tumor but gave it to him, CD? was killed by Bec Noir for killing Jade, and he stored the wallet into Lil' Cal. Then Lil' Cal crashed on Alternia with one of the doomed Aradiabots, leading to Aradia finding her frog temple and the Crosbytop. ... So, is there anything left of value in the wallet after all this time? A metric ton of shaving cream, a lighter with a spades symbol... Oh wait, but Spades Slick also got his hands on the Crosbytop, so did he steal the wallet back from Aradia? If so, then the wallet was last present in the B2 session... But if Aradia still had it on her, she took it with her into the Furthest Ring!

"Space is an infinitely large expanse and a wallet is a tiny, insignificant object. Sure, there have been crazier coincidences in the course of this wacky adventure you’ve been having for the past ten years, but this one feels very precisely aimed at your heart.

You take a deep breath, unfold the wallet, and open it." ... So it contains something captchalogued. Cause it sure won't be a Dad note, after all these years and having gone through all those hands, right? ... Right? Now I'm reminded of how Jake had part of his old home captchalogued.

Blaperile jokingly said: "I hope it isn't Aradia or Terezi captchalogued in there", but actually, if there's something to withstand the end of the Furthest Ring, it would be this wallet.

---

... Wow. At least Dirk's tenure as unreliable narrator is rooted in familiar grounds, Lil Hal genre influencing people. And I know I mustn't get my hopes up for ever getting more information about Dad, or seeing something from his youth... But here I am.

[kpopthings]

Love Letters – one

genre: fluff, to all the boys i’ve loved before au

words: 1.8k

synopsis: Throughout my whole life I’ve only been in love with five boys; Na Jaemin from Summer Camp, Wong Yukhei a.k.a. Lucas from my foreign language class, Lee Taeyong from kindergarten, Seo Youngho a.k.a. Johnny who I tutored back in middle school, and Kim Dongyoung from when I use to be part of the band club.

a/n: a very very late birthday present from me to you guys!! thanks for all the support you’ve given me. here’s the first part of my new series, i hope you guys will like it ^^

masterlist

Hello, my name is y/n. Okay that introduction sucked but hey at least you know who I am. Anyways I'm a senior in high school, unadulterated, unbothered, and unnoticed. It's basically the cliché, just another antisocial girl conquering high school one day at a time. No one liked me, and I didn’t mind. Honestly, in my opinion I think the whole dating concept is a bit overrated. My friend always told me it was probably because I never dated before but at the same time I guess I just don’t see the appeal. Until the day it all came crashing down.

"I'm sorry, y/n" Jaehyun said, handing me an envelope with his name written in my cursive handwriting. Currently, we're standing by the parking lot of the school, the sea of students quickly dispersing, not paying any mind to me nor the person in front of me. "It'll just... never happen." He gave me one apologetic smile, giving me the envelope before stepping back. "Don't worry, I won't tell anyone," he put his index finger on his lips, indicating a sign of silence. With that, he walked away, leaving me dumbfounded with the letter tucked in my knuckles.

Holy shit... shit shit shit!

After doing another run over with the letter, I dashed to my friend, Chaeyoung's car. She owned a gray Buick LeSabre, a car handed down from her brother before he moved to college. As I entered the car, I was met with a wild grinned Chae. She bounced up giddily from her seat as she turned to me.

"How did it go? What did he want? Did he confess his undying love for you?" questions after questions, no one can stop Chaeyoung. I held up the pink envelope from my hand, causing her to gasp at the sight. "No..." she trailed off in disbelief. Seeing me in my slumped state, her gaze softened, "He rejected you, didn't he?"

I only nodded lazily, "I mean... I kind of expected it, him and his girlfriend are going well and let's be real, even if Jaehyun was a jock, he's not the kind that would fuck around with other girls."

"I wonder how he got the letter though?" she thought out loud. At that moment, my whole life seemed to flash in front of my eyes. Oh my god...

"Fuck my life." I whispered.

"No..." she trailed off. "You didn't, tell me you didn't!" By this point, the both of us are panicking. Once she saw my face become morbid, she already knew the answer. “You dumb bi-“

“God please don’t remind me,” I said exasperatedly, covering my face with my hands to hide my imminent shame. “Why does this happen to me?”

Another gasp left Chae’s lips, this time, one of excitement, like she just came up with the greatest idea ever. “What if it’s a sign?”

“Then it’s a pretty shitty sign if you ask me.” I deadpanned. She didn’t look amused.

“Let’s face it y/n, your love life is as interesting as watching paint dry.” She retorted, crossing her arms in front of her chest to emphasize her point. “Maybe this is the universe trying to tell you to get back out there.”

“By embarrassing me? I don’t think so.”

“Stop being such a baby and accept this, y/n.” Chaeyoung pressed further. “When was the last time you even saw half the guys you wrote letters to? How about that guy you spent kindergarten with? It’s been years, I’m a hundred percent sure he turned out being one hot meal.”

“You mean Taeyong? It’s been ages, what if he became gross after puberty?”

She rolled her eyes at me negativity, “you’re my friend, y/n. As your friend, I know what you like. And I am absolutely certain, this guy is good.”

“How do you know? It’s not like you’ve ever seen him.”

“You’re a handful, you know that?” she said, starting up the car before turning back to me again. “Well if Taeyong, or whatever his name is does turn out to be some piece of slob. Who’s to say the others won’t? The last time you saw two of them was like two years ago right? Before you guys moved here?”

This is what I liked about Chaeyoung, even though she becomes boy crazy sometimes, she’s one heck of an optimist. And for a pessimistic person like me, I liked to think that we balanced each other out. She was a hopeless romantic, I didn’t see the appeal to it. She changes crushes every week while I only had six. We were complete polar opposites but I guess that’s what make us… us.

Anyways, just like what she said, me and my family moved here. Originally, we’re from Seoul, back when I was a little kid, but then we moved to Busan when I turned six but then dad found a nice job back in Seoul. And now here I am. It was difficult- I had to say goodbye to pretty much everyone. And I had an exam in my Foreign Language Class and I had to study for it sooner than most kids which then led me to Lucas, 1/6 of the boys I wrote letters to, also the guy who tutored me and basically saved me from failing. He’s also the last crush I had before Jaehyun. The other four, well… let me tell you;

Throughout my whole life I've only been in love with five boys (plus one). Namely; Na Jaemin from Summer Camp (he looked really good while setting up a tent), Wong Yukhei a.k.a. Lucas from my foreign language class (the before mentioned person back in my old school), Lee Taeyong from kindergarten (he was one of the only nice boys in school so…), Seo Youngho a.k.a. Johnny who I tutored back in middle school (he looks cute with glasses especially when he looks confused), and Kim Dongyoung or Doyoung as what others call him, he’s from when I use to be part of the band club (again, back in my old school [he played the flute… amazingly if I may add]).

Now, I'm crushing on this guy, Jung Jaehyun, who's the captain of the school's basketball team. Normally, I don’t go for jocks but Jaehyun was just really… charming.

This might be weird, but I have a habit of writing love letters to them. Starting off with Taeyong, to which I wrote his letter back when I was five so it had like doodles and hearts all around the paper. The letter is still with me today with full stamps and everything, although I don't really update the addresses since come on, I'm not that obsessed. Although I did update it whenever we move since I have like this plan to mail them when I get married and I’ll just be like; “thank you for ignoring me all those years ago. I’m getting married!”

But now I guess that plan backfired, colossally. Not only do they know it’s from me, but now they know where I live. Fuck.

This is the story of how I fucked up astronomically, like huge. 

And now here I am.

“I knew you were stupid but I didn’t know you were that stupid.” Chaeyoung said bluntly, rounding up from a corner, her eyes firmly on the road ahead while her hand clutched the wheel.

“Stop reminding me!” I whined.

She giggled. “Okay, I’ll stop. But really, this is a sign- I’m willing to bet on it.” She gave me a small gesture of encouragement before returning back to the road.

“I just hope they didn’t get it.” I sighed out, my palms going down my cheeks to make an overly distorted look. “It’s like I’m in a bloody nightmare… I can feel my heart racing.” I pressed one of my hands to my chest, feeling the speeding rhythm as I felt my face feel hot.

“Hey,” Chaeyoung spoke up, placing her hand on my other hand. “Don’t worry about it okay? No matter what happens, I’m right here.”

I only nodded in reply.

Chaeyoung’s right, I shouldn’t worry about it. I mean, it’s not like one of them is going travel all the way to Seoul just to see me.

– Several Days Later –

“y/n, there’s a few mails for you!” my mom called out from downstairs. I placed my phone down on my nightstand before standing up from my bed. I was never a morning person. Somehow, I find it hard to fathom how there are people out there who can function swimmingly right after they wake up. In my experience, a lot of bad things happen to me during the mornings; falling down the stairs (this happened to me twice since we moved here), forgetting books (those important ones you need for classes), accidentally letting go of the laundry basket (this happens mostly during weekends), etc. literally everything that can go wrong, can go wrong for a person not functioning properly.

“Coming!” I yelled, putting on my fuzzy pink slippers before walking down the hall. Once I reached the bottom of the stairs, my mom handed me four envelopes.

“I didn’t know you were this popular,” she said.

“I didn’t know people still sends letters.” I retorted, making her scrunch her nose at me. Ironic, am I right?

My eyes travelled down the envelopes. Holy fuck

I rushed up to my room, grabbing my phone and typing a text to Chae.

y/n: [sent 10:40 am] BITCH WTF

y/n: [sent 10:40 am] BITCH WHAT THE FU –

chaeyoung: [sent 10:41 am] I’m coming over.

-

“I told you it was a sign.” She said, eyes going over the four letters sprawled on my desk. “Doyoung seem nice.” She handed me his letter.

Hi y/n!

Wow I didn’t know you felt that way about me… is my voice really that good? Honestly I never thought someone would say those stuff to me. I’m coming to Seoul in a few days maybe we could meet up? It would be nice if I get to see you again, it’s okay if you don’t want to tho… I understand.

“My money goes to him.” She added, reading another letter, Johnny’s. “Damn, they’re all coming here… for you! And only a few days ago you were saying about how this is a bloody nightmare.” She rolled her eyes, “now you have four admirers coming to see you! I feel like a proud mom.”

“It is turning into a nightmare.” I said matter of factly, plopping down my bed in complete distress.

“Stop being so negative y/n…” she sighed, placing the letters on my nightstand before laying down beside me. “You could always tell them to fuck off,” she suggested, “I’m sure they’ll understand.”

I chuckled softly at that. It felt nice to have Chae around, especially in this sudden inclination of boys in my life.

“y/n, there’s a boy here for you!”

Both me and Chaeyoung looked at each other, eyes wide like deers caught in headlights. The two of us sat up before rushing downstairs. An unfamiliar boy stood a bit awkwardly by the door, a small sheepish smile gracing his feature as he looked up at me.

“Hi y/n”

[amusewithaview]

the sorcerer’s apprentice (interning with a different doctor)

I know I don’t know you, but I want you so bad.  Everyone has a secret but can they keep it - oh no, they can’t...

“Fuck you, Levine,” Darcy muttered under her breath as she viciously beat her alarm clock into silence.  By the time she was done, the red lights were flickering in and out and there was a suspicious rattling noise coming from the the white plastic body of the device every time it shifted.

She slumped back down awkwardly, hissing as her hair got caught under her elbow and pulled painfully on her scalp.  The day was off to a rollicking good start.  First there had been the Dream - Warmth along her side, a crooked smile, tousled hair and quiet.  Hand rubbing along her spine, slow even strokes from scalp to tailbone, soft kisses across her shoulders, slight tickles from five o’clock shadow.  Stillness, silence, peace, resting with the one she loved, heart beating fast from so much joy... - then the song.  It was only half past seven and she already wanted to call the day off.

Darcy rolled to her side and got out of bed.  The Dreams, and these were entirely deserving of the distinctive capitalization, had been coming off and on since she was a teenager.  She would have liked to have blamed propaganda, or her mother’s weird WW2 obsession, but she didn’t think that was adequate.  She didn’t even want to speculate on what a therapist would say if she ever told them that she’d been having dreams of domestic bliss starring a dead war hero for as long as she could remember.  Add to that that two years prior, said war hero had miraculously come back to life and...

She didn’t know what to make of it.  It wasn’t as if she thought it meant anything.  The dreams were just that, dreams.  It was the way that they made her feel, though.  They made her long for something she didn’t have, someone she didn’t really know.  It had been easier before Steve Rogers was found, when she could just shrug off her subconscious use of his face in her fantasies as just One of Those Things.  It was weirder now, she was uncomfortable with how it made her feel to know that the man of her quite literal dreams was... out there.  It wasn’t as if him being alive and walking around made it any more likely she’d ever see him, but somehow it made the not-having of the dream domestic life hurt more.

Darcy firmly shook herself, stretching just so, and headed for the shower.  She had a busy day of waiting tables and studying ahead of her.  Sometimes she wondered what would have happened if she’d taken that internship with the crazy astrophysicist, but really she’d been better off staying at Culver and finishing out her degree.  She’d lucked into a secondary scholarship that was covering most of her tuition for her Masters, and sure sometimes she wondered what could have been - but the Masters would open more doors for her than that internship would have.  Of this she was certain.

She’d showered, dressed, and was halfway through brushing her teeth when there was a strange sound in her kitchen.  She tiptoed down the hall, one hand still holding her toothbrush in her mouth, and stepped around the corner to find a dude in a red cape standing in front of a golden sigil that was floating in midair just about where her fridge should be.

“Wha da fu?” Darcy mumbled around her toothbrush.

The strange man pivoted to face her, a threatening scowl on his face which swiftly melted into a look of amusement once he saw her.  “Pardon my intrusion, madam,” he said smoothly.  “I am seeking someone, could you-”

She waved him aside and took two steps forward to spit out her toothpaste in the kitchen sink.  That done, she carefully set her toothbrush down and turned to the golden portal.  She stared at it, blinking rapidly once she realized that she could sort of, dimly, make out the edges of her fridge at the top and bottom of the golden swirly thing.  “That’s temporary, right?”

“What?  Oh, yes.”

“Good, I don’t want to lose my deposit.  Okay, so, who are you looking for?”

The stranger was staring at her speculatively.  “I was sent to find a... hmm.  How long have you lived here?”

“Like a year and a half.  Not sure who lived here before me.”

“Hmm,” he said again, still staring.  “And you are...?”

She folded her arms and attempted to stare him down, a feat made exponentially more difficult because she had left her glasses in the bathroom.  “Nuh-uh, dude.  No dice.  You’re the one who barged into my apartment, you can introduce yourself first.”

“I am Stephen Strange,” he said, giving her a small nod.

“You’re a wizard named Strange?”

He grimaced.  “Ir could be worse, I could be named ‘Harry.’”

“Ooh, yeah, that would be worse.  I’m Darcy Lewis.  Why are you here?”

Stephen straightened to his full height, towering over her.  “I was sent to locate a disturbance, it seems that there was a magical upheaval here sometime in the recent past.  It’s sending ripples up and down through the universe, and some of those ripples are making waves.”

“I followed that, but your analogies could use some work.”

“I’m not a poet,” he muttered, “and that’s beside the point.  Something went wrong, and I’m here to help the universe fix it.”

“Why does the universe need your help?” she asked dubiously.

“When the universe course-corrects, it tends to do so rather violently.  If I can assist, then I can smooth the transition.”

It was vaguely reasonable, so Darcy nodded.  “Okay, so there’s a disturbance in the Force-” he winced, she ignored him and went on, “-and you’re here to fix it. Why here, though.  Specifically, why are you in my apartment?”

“Because you are the disturbance, Ms. Lewis.  Something must have gone awry in the last few years, something that could have disastrous consequences.”

“Nothing has gone wrong, though,” she said.  “Actually, things have been pretty great.  I finished my undergrad, I’m working on my Masters, I have a steady job and yeah, it kind of sucks, but it pays the bills.  I don’t even have a lot of loans to pay off, so I’ve really just been focusing on my studies.  The last couple years have been kind of uneventful for me, personally.”

“Hmm,” he said again.  “How close are you to finishing your degree?”

“Technically I’m done,” she said.  “I turned in my thesis a few weeks ago.  I’m just finishing out my contract with the university now.”

“And after?  What do you intend to do?”

This was feeling more and more like the kind of interrogation she got every time she went home, plus a little mysticism, minus a little ‘and when will you bring home a man.’  “I have a couple offers,” she said, pointing listlessly to a small stack of papers on her kitchen table.  “They’re not too exciting, but they’ll get me started.”

“Hmm-”

“Will you stop that!”

He slanted her a bright smile.  “My apologies, Ms. Lewis, I was just thinking.  I’m not sure what has gone wrong, per se, but I can tell you with certainty that something has.  This isn’t where you’re supposed to be and that,” he waved a hand at the aforementioned offers, “isn’t what you’re meant to do.”

Darcy shook her head, taking a step back.  Something deep inside of her agreed with what he said, a little voice whispered, ‘He’s right, this is wrong, something is missing-’ but she shoved that voice down.  “What are you, my fairy godfather?  Come to fix what’s wrong?  Nothing is wrong.  I’m sorry my life isn’t interesting enough for you, but it’s my life.  Who are you to tell me-”

Suddenly he wasn’t a distinguished-looking man in a red cloak.  Suddenly he was floating six inches off her floor, golden light pouring from his eyes and mouth, spiraling through her apartment and encircling her in silk-soft, glass-sharp tendrils, binding her so tightly she could barely breathe.

“I am the Sorcerer Supreme,” he said in a voice that echoed through her bones.

“Yeah, okay, then,” she whispered.

Like somebody had flicked a switch, the lights went out and he settled back on her floor with a thump.  His genial expression had gone, replaced by something a lot more authoritative and a little sad.  “This life you have may not be wrong,” he told her gently, “but it isn’t right, either.  Let me help you, Ms. Lewis, and in so doing, you can help me help the universe.”

Stephen held out his hand.

Darcy slowly reached out to take it.  “Swear to god,” she warned, “if you even think of asking me to sign something in blood, I’ll-”

There was a flash of golden light, and suddenly the apartment was empty.

[elsewhereuniversity]

ASKS - Students

Asks sent to my main, answered here. Theme - how would I do at EU?

geekshallinherit said: hey are you sam? i can't give you my name, but i need help. specifically advice. the word is, if one needs help navigating the trickiest of situations life at eu has to offer, they should come to you. people say you know things. i'm sure the significance of that word, "help," isn't lost on you, and anyway i didn't come empty-handed, so i hope you'll hear me out. i have a problem with a name. before i came here, i had never had much of a family. i won't go into detail, but i was in foster care. now i don't keep in contact with anyone i knew before i was emancipated. when i got into eu, i changed my name, like people do here. i followed all the rules and found a tight-knit group of friends. we stick together when our school or personal lives get tough. we even banded together to rescue our friend when she was taken. (she was one of three last year, so you can't use this to id me) my point is we're close. here's my problem: everyone here - human, gentry, otherwise - knows the name the people i love most call me by. my new name has become my true name. my friends know that they know, but others? a chill goes up my spine every time teachers, less-close friends, and campus staff call me by my name. i don't think it's legible on my face, but people here have become good at seeing without showing what they've seen. this school just has that effect. i can't just get a new nickname, because as soon as i tell people to call me something different, they'll know something's up. basically, i'm stuck just letting the gentry call me by my truest name and hoping they don't figure it out. my friends and i have talked deep into the night about this and none of us knows what to do. that's why i'm here. i said i didn't come empty-handed, and i meant it; this teddy bear is the last token i have of my life in the system. his name is taco. he's brown and ratty and i don't remember who gave him to me besides the fact that, like everything, it wasn't my birth parents, but he's well-loved. i hope this will be sufficient for you to help someone who cannot even tell you their false name. you don't have to answer right now; you can find me on the quiet floor of the library pretty late into the night most nights. but if it pleases you, i don't have long to wait. and sam? i would really appreciate your help.

Help freely given, because I have a lot of small kindnesses to pay forward, and I Owe – your best bet is to change schools, my guy.  In a place where reality is less shaky, your true name is just a name, and even someone saying it with intent wouldn’t be able to compel you against your will.

If you’re hellbent on staying at Elsewhere, you’ve got two options. The first is to carry on and keep hoping no one realizes what a precious thing you’ve handed them. The second, if you think you can do so with subtlety, is to try to change your nickname anyway. I know you’re worried it would broadcast the importance of the old nickname, but it’s not actually rare for people to realize that maybe they don’t want to go by, say, Deeznuts for four years straight. It’s a nickname and it gets old. If you’re careful about it, you might be able to shift to a new name without anyone catching on.

If things go really, really badly, remember that your true name is not just a weapon to be used against you. If your loved ones know it, it can bring you home.

(and to answer the ask i didn’t include - i go by she/her, thank you for asking!)

huntressmary said: what are my survival chances at elsewhere u? Just asking. I "changed" my name starting uni to avoid the "wrong name false document" disaster and abandoned the accents. The written word is different, the name I give a shorted one. Will they still have power over me? Also I'm doing biochemistry, and carry around about half a kilo of titanium warped around my spine. Good or Bad?

Whichever version of your name holds the most importance to you would be the one you should keep secret, but using anything similar (nicknames, changed pronunciation) is still flirting with disaster – your enemies are more than capable of putting together clues. I think the half-kilo of titanium round your spine would afford you some respect, however. Caution, even.

fandomlockedfan said: Hi! first of all, i really love your comic series EU! it's really intriguing and unique! second, I've been on your blog for an hour just reading the Q&A and I must say...If I were a student in EU I wouldn't probably last long even though I'm a bio major. (I like talking to strangers, I always say "I'm sorry and thank you" A LOT, I like sleeping anywhere ex. library and I LOVE making poems and stories and sharing them with people I talk to) -_- and plus I haven't done my fae research yet. :(

You miiiight be okay, actually! Some of these could potentially cancel out; the debts you admit through typical courtesies like ‘I’m sorry’ could likely be paid off with poems and stories you’d give out for free otherwise. Combined with the fact that after so long they’re fairly wary around bio majors, and you might make it through unharmed, albeit with a few settled debts under your belt. The biggest issue would be falling asleep in places where time is strange, and I can’t really help you there, but the librarians could direct you to the chairs where the time ration of in/out is 1:1.

Anon said: I'm reading your elsewhere U thing and honestly cracking up bc I cant help but wonder what the fuck the fae would do with me and my girlfriend. She's super superstitious as well as wiccian and she always wears iron and beads and strange little symbols doodled on the inside of her wrists and she's studys old celtic mythology. I have somehow ended up as the campus 'if I ever need anyone dead I'll let u know', between the astrophysics and the several black belts idk what they'd think of me either

Hahaha I think you’d have a peaceful and nondescript existence, unless you intentionally got Involved on other people’s behalves, in which case you’re both accorded a significant amount of respect.

erai-crabantaure said: Another question. I'm a fire dancer. I dance with a metal staff lit on both ends. Would the Fair Folk be horrified, fascinated or both?

Absolutely both. Entranced, really.

writerandstudent said: I'll be honest I haven't been following the hype with the Elsewhere University, but I know as an Anthropology student who loves other cultures I feel that I would stutter my way over to a fae to ask them about their culture and they watch them from a distance anytime they appear. Also as a writer I would then start to put together a book about everything I see (a fiction book).

Approaching a creature who doesn’t want to be seen would end poorly for you eight times out of ten; my advice to you as a friend is to Not Do That. By all means watch from a distance, by all means put together a book that’s ostensibly fiction keep it safe, on your computer or between covers coated with iron-infused paint), but do not strike up a conversation with anything that hasn’t approached you first.

Anon said: So I keep thinking about Elsewhere U... I live in europe and it feels like I've been a college student forever. I keep switching majors, getting various diplomas, leaving for a little while but coming back again, switching majors AGAIN and never quite being able to move on. Some fae just never wants me to leave right?

Yes.  Have you ever even really left?

[ecotone99]

[HM] [NSFW] How To Stay Single By Being Yourself

I listened to her pack into the MUNI train, and before I lost her in a tunnel, I said, “Sayonara, sardine.”

What a thing to say to someone with whom you’ve never actually occupied the same space, at least to my knowledge. The whole pace of my life seems to be this way nowadays. A skip or a glitch or a miss, or a drunk wrong turn into the wrong drunk person to kiss. Then I slip into another relationship, another year lost monogamous with the wrong person, until I’m my old single self again, masturbating and playing video games for virtual and spermal accomplishments. Until it’s just sad and no longer nostalgic, and I give it up again and move on to taking placebo capsules, more commonly known as vitamins, trying to better myself, eat healthy; when I know in my heart, whether or not it’s connected to a clogged left anterior descending artery, I’ll die just the same. The antithesis of delusions of grandeur, whatever that is. Plus those aren’t things I should indulge in or contemplate anyway, and by now I should have been more than this, but at least it’s good I don’t have kids or a second mortgage, but then comparatively to happier lives than mine, maybe it isn’t.

Responsibilities warped, and I’m honestly just complacent. Had one insightful shroom trip three years ago, camping at the base of Mt. Baldy, ending in three friends coming down from the trip repeating the word ‘comfort’ in harmony, which really stuck with me, and now making enough money so I can afford things that might impress a woman so she’ll sleep with me - because I lack a societally accepted masculine personality, and the accompanying physique - doesn’t seem all that important. Unless she’s gorgeous, thinks I’m funny, holds my doors open for me, and makes sure I cum before her. Because she’s an all giving goddess who’s ultra into reversing the roles. Now I’m the one wearing the bra and being neglectful, and she’s the one that’s fearful I’ll leave her if she’s not careful; if she can’t become my idea of the perfect woman, which could only mean that she’s not really special, not to me or anyone. My 'I’ve truly lost touch with reality' true love. Imagine that. Even when I’m not really with anybody I can’t take a breath for myself. Romantically imaginative, removed but attached. Really I’m just a Little Bitch, but I capitalize the L and the B in that shit. I own my label. It’s my religion, my race, my gender, my age, and my sexual orientation, fluidly. It’s my username on Fetlife, but the original was taken, so I’m LittleBitchFoRealTho. Even though the trained eye would see that’s too many characters. And I don’t know why I have the urge to say this, but, stay woke.

Then I snapped out of it, took a minute to think of all the years I wasted lasting seconds during sex, for months at a time, counting down the femtoseconds until the relationship ends in high entropy. Either overpraised or overfed. Or not needed at all. Just a one night stand, just a bed, just a friend, not even with benefits, just a dude to bring home so she doesn’t have to yet accept and admit to her parents that she’s a lesbian.

Get older, continue to get high, watch The Neverending Story for the thousandth time, and go to bed early. Learning to be lonely. Perpetually a dude currently writing this, sitting in a room, in an apartment with rent that’s ridiculous, if you happen to measure and calculate the cramped square footage, and compare it to how much you’re paying for it. Surrounded by objects that are purely conditional, and those conditions seem to occur few and far between. So everything I bought off Amazon Prime is all essentially useless, but can be delivered in two days, so that it can more quickly begin to lose the factor of novelty, before becoming still life garbage you seemingly involuntarily keep, imbued with a memory of a compelling spell of clicking, which megamorphed into sentimental value, and you only have those hardcovers on your bookshelf to cast the illusion that you’re well-rounded.

In actuality, I’m only rewriting this over and over again, trying to make this ludicrous literature perfect, while experiencing acute mood shifts. Sometimes my phone dies and I lose the latest revision, gone and lost in contextual oblivion. Metaphysically tired in my lazy mind’s lazy eye, from the eternal uphill-pushing of enormous proverbial boulders. A hugely hubristic, bush league, satirical Sisyphus with a creator complex, writing this self-stated, social paradigm shifting content, while in tangible social settings I’m mostly pocketing my psychic two cents. Then keeping my hands in my pockets so my palms sweat, standing far away from her and her friends after she ran over to them, next to a giant metallic cone with a screen in it at the California Academy of Sciences, reading the ticket that admits us into the Planetarium. Skip to the next awkward moment, I finally walk over, because she looked at me like I’m an idiot, we stand in a rhombus and start talking. One friend says, “Hey, nice to meet you”. Then a dainty, moist squeeze of the hands, then release, but no relief, more anxiety, but I manage to speak, “It’s nice to meet you too, Peaches.” I swear that was her name.

I’m saving up to win the spiritual lottery, or just waiting: to die, to fall asleep, perchance to wet-dream. While in my periphery I’m watching Clueless and wishing someone would text me back. As if. Because I sent you this, so I’ll probably never hear from you again, person reading this. A person I can only describe as: a secluded echo, an eclipsed moon, December blue. Soft eyes, no vacancy. Wild ride. You.

Anyway, if you’re still with me, what I’ve been trying to say, lately things seem to go a certain way for me. It’s not bad or good, it’s just causing me to think a little more introspectively. Any remorse for my interactions that may boil up is immediately self-medicated with cannabis that is meant to take the place of dopamine, when in reality I haven’t accomplished a single thing. I’m just sitting here making up silly stories, pretending I’d be content if this was it, nothing more than this. Monotony, mixed with heaven sent absurdity that turns into comedy, or social awkwardness at my day job that on the first and fifteenth of the month turns into money. Which goes to rent and other pointless expenses. If I want to attempt to have sex, gotta pay for dates, probably somewhere expensive, to distract her from fact that one of my ears is lower and points in a different direction.

Then when I’m on these dates, I have to be witty, charming, funny; because I personally believe that’s all I have going for me, and my psychiatrist agrees. I have to be somewhat up kept, overall hygienic, clean my apartment, just in case... you know...I die, or she wants to comes over. Buy a new toothbrush, new socks, deodorant, maybe a tie, get a goofy one while you’re shopping for an outfit at Goodwill, one that isn’t too large or too goofy looking, so as not to appear homeless. Not too drunk or too stoned to not keep up the walls, keep on the mask, perpetuate the facade, go on and on about what you do, where you’re from, but what’s really going on is you’re dancing around the fact that awkwardness is preferable to loneliness, but neither of you are out rightly addressing it, just discussing hobbies you aren’t really all that active in, and all you really want is to put on your favorite song, which is Love is a Battlefield, really loud, and be physically close to another person, preferably naked.

But flaws and awkwardness always win; until you consider and accept that death is the ultimate end, after getting real deep about it during a stoned conversation while listening to The Mars Volta with your old high school friends. Start to contemplate the concept of non-existence, then live your life according to that premise; which I don’t, but then do, too, paradoxically.

A view loosely based on the Tegmark take on quantum immortality, transmuted with my own half-baked multiverse theory recipe, tossed into the ethereal 8-Qt Crock-Pot, on low for 8 hours, alchemically cooking up the basic tenets of my life’s philosophies, stirring occasionally. It’s basically the idea that you can’t actually perceive yourself dying, but everyone else around you experiences your death in that universe’s reality. So for them you’re dead, then either cremated, ashes scattered in the hot tub at your grandparents old house in Walnut while the new occupants are in it. Or buried next to your brother, whose epitaph reads, “Who wants to match on a blunt and smoke out Jesus and Dezi Arnaz when we get to heaven, and why is it getting so hot all of a sudden?”, because my brother’s pretty funny when I write his made up epitaph for him. Or better than both disintegration or side-by-side a sibling in a graveyard; your will states your wishes to be taxidermied, morbidly displayed out in the most visible part of the back lawn, to been seen from a plethora of windows, forever staged reading Infinite Jest, which you never actually finished when you did exist there; until your family moves on emotionally and stores you in the basement next to your Pokémon card collection that never evolved into anything worth anything, much like a lvl 100 Luvdisc.

Where was I? Oh yeah. More bad dates with minutely modified bad outcomes, that would not have come to pass if you hadn’t eaten as many croissants as you did in your past life. Your colon couldn’t love handle it. Now new you figured out ways to continue perpetuating lies, to yourself and others, until again you’re caught in one of them by someone that you spoke spurious, rehearsed lines to, and then somehow learned to love. Another burnt bridge, move on to next place, the next job, the next “one”. Why not? Repeat the pattern. It seems you’ll always fill your life up with made up obstacles and the subsequent distractions, because it’s easier to hide behind another person’s life and pretend you don’t have one. Now their problems are yours, but they’re not as smart as you to handle them, says you. So you express another misplaced emotional reaction, then the inevitable detachment. In your mind it’s the proverbial 'them' all talking about you behind your back, even though they haven’t really thought about you since; but you hear it all in your head, overwhelmingly, a profound paranoid pounding, a feedback loop of an empty orchestra laughing; about all the stuff she knows about you, and told them, and they believe it to be it true, about you doing silly stuff with your penis that you thought would never leave the room.

“You can’t think your way out of a prison that is made of thought.”

- Krishna Das

Then you remember, sometimes if you say the name given to a person later in life because of a spiritual rite, read directly after the last word of a sentence from a quote associated with them, it produces a near rhyme. Sometimes things are just meant to be, two people are destined to meet, destined to be best friends who are silly on purpose, yes-and everyone, and massage each other’s feet. Running on unconditional love, and when we’re drunk it’s always fun and she doesn't end up cheating. If only.

No but really, I hope this was fun to read. Just some real, taboo, and personal themes that hopefully lead to giggles and genuine feelings, simultaneously. Because that’s really what I’m all about, inherently, though sometimes disrespectfully, but I promise it’s not done intentionally. I’m simply digging deeply into the collective unconscious, and sharing all the treasures that I pull out. Because I always pull out, can’t stand a condom: latex, sheepskin, my ego; doesn’t matter. I can’t help but rawly share it and impregnate you with honesty.

A component of my soul, a moment, a stream of consciousness built upon the general thought of a person I could have been and may become. An influence I feel could be a friend - because I swear on the grave of a man named Lasso who lives on the astral plane, who doesn’t know how to dance, but if you know how to ask, will grant you the ability to always know the exact location of the nearest bathroom - that I’m only trying to gain a little understanding so I can be compatible with another person. It’s that simple. I’m the grey hat traversing the gray areas. The one who doesn’t know the proper rules on when to use which spelling of gray, so he always puts both variations of grey in a sentence. So a train of thought came after a disconnection on a train elsewhere, which caused me to think, write and edit this every night until three in the morning for an ever increasing amount of weeks, repeating a pattern so as not to repeat, trying to see if there’s something to glean that’ll lead me to love in this reality. All because I listened to her pack into the MUNI train, and before I lost her in a tunnel, I said, “Sayonara, sardine.”

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