#ptsd parallels n such

[zrllosyn-art]

The kaiju that ate haru's arm. And an assortment of Haru centric sketches.

Also have a silly meme.

[idalievu]

Time for my daily thoughts about how Jaws is rife with potential for an anti imperialist anti capitalist analysis

[maximumkillshot]

"I Can't Lose You" Part 6

Warnings: Aftermath of a miscarriage, descriptions of grief due to losing a baby, Angry Everyone, Death is mentioned, Wanting Death, Shock, Grief, PTSD Flashback, Panic, there is a parallel to a person jumping off a bridge (NOT ACTUALLY)

Pairing: Bangchan x Reader

Characters:  Stray Kids, Reader

A/N: Ok if you read the above, you'll notice that anger is in the warnings. This is the first half of a chapter that had me crying as I wrote it. This is something that you all need to take into consideration... I LOVE YOU GUYS AND I AM SORRY IN ADVANCE ONCE AGAIN. My asks are always open for you guys to vent about this one.

Also remember, this is a fanfic. All of the boys are so sweet IRL.

Stray Kids! Masterlist

Overall Masterlist

ALL WORK IS UNDER ME AND MY BLOG. DO NOT TRY TO REPUBLISH OR STEAL MY WORK, AS THAT IS COPYRIGHTED UNDER ME AND IS CONSIDERED COPYRIGHT INFRINGEMENT WHICH IS A PUNISHABLE OFFENSE. 

ANY WORK THAT YOU SEE ON OTHER SITES THAT ARE MY WORKS PLEASE NOTIFY ME IMMEDIATELY.

Previously:

He was mad at himself at those thoughts, Chris was so clearly into you so he used Bin’s insecurities against him… and it had worked. He thought about how all of this wouldn’t have happened and you and him would be happy together. That’s all he ever wanted for you. That was why he let you go in the first place. He wanted you to be happy.

After about half an hour of hushed talking, while Bin kept you relaxed, a set of footsteps walked down the hall. Just hearing them, Bin’s ears perked up. They had an authority to them, almost pompous in nature. Commanding… he knows those steps.

Now:

The minute Minho saw who it was entering the room his whole body went rigid, his hands in fists at his side as he got up and used his body to block whoever it was. He motioned for the boys to get closer to the bed. All of them standing, ready to jump. 

“Just let me talk to her,” Bin’s vision started getting blurry, on the verge of blacking out with rage. He looked down to you, very unbothered by the sudden voice that assaulted the tranquility of the room. The first tranquil moment you've had in months. Months of your husband hiding and sneaking. And months of you planning and working excitedly making every detail perfect. 

Bin made a split-second decision to lightly cover your ear that wasn't to his chest. Trying to prolong the inevitable. 

Next up was Han as he said in a hushed tone, “she’s finally asleep. You are not coming in this room, Chris.” His tone was dark and that one sentence rolled off of his tongue like a warning. 

“She’s my wife. I am going to see her whether you like it or not.” He sounded annoyed. Like this was an inconvenience. Bin did everything in the book to calm his heart, which was starting to spike at just hearing his voice. 

Bin went on an internal tirade, how dare he come here? Killing your child wasn't enough? Making you so stressed out that you almost bled to death wasn't enough? Ripping your heart out and trampling it… not enough for him? NOOO let's show up when it's convenient, when no one expects it, playing the 'husband' card. When Bin knew he CLEARLY gave up that title already. 

Especially when you did everything to be available for him. When he started to pull away you came to Bin and Han in tears, not knowing what to do. You love him so much that you actively went to find out what it was. Was it your weight? Did you talk too much or not enough? Did you ask for too much? Did you seem too boring? He has already been enough of a plague on your life already. 

Minho giggled darkly, “You really want to die today, huh? Did you not hear Han, she’s resting. Now go away.” 

“Not until I see her.” His voice raised slightly. The bite in his voice made Minho want to strangle him, to be honest. He doesn’t have any entitlement to you. Especially after what he’s done. As far as what Minho thinks, Chris was never your husband. No husband neglects their wife. No husband makes their wife lay awake at night, worried about if he had eaten or not, or if she’d even see him when she woke up. 

That was enough for you to stir on Bin’s chest. Bin had to think quickly as he said "It's okay, go to sleep, Angel. I'm here," in the most delicate whisper. That was enough to knock you out again, humming against his chest. 

Chris pulled back the curtain, even though Han and Minho tried their best to get him away. At that point, I.N, who was the closest to Chan, blocked him from your bedside.

“Get away from her.” He whispered, “She’s too fragile right now.”

Chris just looked at I.N. and said, “No one is keeping me from my wife, you’re lucky I even went along with it for this long. I’m not going to wake her.”

The venom in Chan's voice made the hair on Bin’s neck and arms raise. Not out of fear, no he could snap Chris in half if he was pissed off enough. His hair raised out of anger and knowing he couldn't do anything about it. The fact that Chan had the audacity to come into that room after what he did, knowing that you are fragile. That you barely made it out, and even now, you aren’t completely out. Yet there he was trying to force himself in. Like he had a right to be there, even though he was the one that caused it. 

I.N looked at Han and Han signaled him to let it go. 

Han knew that he was right, none of them had spousal rights. So technically Chris can kick them out, especially because she is still so weak, she can’t fend for herself or be able to sternly say ‘get out’ to her husband, not without consequences. They had no other choice. 

Bin looked at Chan as he took a seat next to the bed, taking in your sleeping form. His heart was breaking at seeing how weak you looked. Your cheeks were slightly sunken in and your face was completely pale. The dark circles dominated your eyes, making your face look more like a mummy as opposed to a living breathing person. He looked at your arm with a blood bag hooked to it. When he looked up at Bin he could see that it took everything in Bin’s body not to kill him.

Bin just mouthed to him, “What the fuck are you doing here, get out.” The more that he looked at Chan the more he wanted to rip him apart. He looked well rested, smelled like he showered, hell he even did his hair. That pissed Changbin off. You’d think that he would at least look more disheveled. Given, he could see that he did look worried and sad. He didn’t look guilty. 

Chris just ignored him and kept looking at you. Chris was transfixed on you. He was even more transfixed by your hold on Changbin. You looked like you were cuddling your favorite teddy bear. He remembered the last time you held him like that. Yesterday morning, when he came home to sleep for two hours, the minute the bed dipped you subconsciously reached for him, and he slightly rolled his eyes as he succumbed to his fate, smile on his face. You sighed so happily, you mumbled, ‘Mhmm missed you, love you,’ as you kissed his bare chest, and just like you’re positioned now, you were asleep. Now seeing you holding Bin like that makes jealousy more prominent in his mind. 

It makes him sick to think about all of this as he plays with his wedding ring, thinking about not feeling you again, your hugs, your breath on his skin. The moans that’d he pull out of you, soothing his soul. The looks that’d make his heart stop. The giggle that’d be forced out even if you were mad. Not having the feeling of your skin on his, these thoughts make him want to die. He’s trying to actively ignore it. He’s trying to ignore the fact that he did something so disgusting, so unforgivable that he lost you. For him, it’s easier to be angry, angry and convinced that you’ll come back. That’s why he is doing what he is doing. That’s why he walked with bravado into that room.

He went to put some hair behind your ear just to have some contact and I.N’s hand flew out and wrapped his hand around his wrist. His jaw set. Bin wanted to do the exact same but it’d jolt you.  

I.N. growled “No.. touching… get out of the room,” his brows furrowed, his usually soft eyes looking more like a piercing gaze. 

Being the maknae, he has never challenged Chan before… At all. There’s a good reason as to why he is challenging him right now. Innah has always felt like he was awkward. He didn’t really know where he belonged in the team. Yes, he has a good voice and yes he’s good with choreography but he never really hung out with people other than Seungmin and Felix. 

You being the person you are, you figured it out. He was watching one day, just seeing all of the members interacting, some of the older ones trying to bring him into the fold but it seemed ingenuine to him. Like he was the little brother that had to be included or Dad would get mad. You truly found the things that he loved interesting, really talked to him, and made him feel safe and welcomed. 

There was one particularly hard night for him. Nothing went right that day and he was tired, frustrated, and needed to feel safe. He didn’t know where to go or who to go to. So he called you without knowing why. You picked up and the minute he heard your voice he started crying. You ran to his dorm. No one else was home, and of course, Chan was nowhere in sight. So you stood with him, talked, and cooked a midnight dinner with him. Got him to laugh, you both passed out on the couch after watching some anime.

After that night that no one knows about except the boys in the Danceracha house, I.N. was just like Hyunjin, except he’d do drive-by hugs, sometimes just falling on you giggling and looking for hugs and head scratches, like the fox he is. There were other times when he would just stand behind you, put his chin on the top of your head and say, “What are we doing here Y/N/N…. I am BORED” as he’d flop on you, “Let’s get Ramyeon.” You’d laugh and say, “How about this… you get through today… and Ramyeon’s on me.” He still smiles at those memories.

So of course, I.N. would fight King Kong if he had to if it meant protecting you. 

Now, seeing Jeongin doing this, standing up to Chan, just to protect you, his Noona,  made everyone that wasn’t Chan smile. 

Chan stood up to his full height and said, “I just want to be here for her,” with a tight lip at the challenge of the maknae of his team. Chan can’t take the disrespect anymore. Even though he knows that he more than deserves to be treated like this and worse, he is still in that limbo of trying to convince himself that this didn’t actually happen or worse, that he can fix it.

Bin felt your grip tighten on him…

You said to yourself that you didn’t just hear that voice. You squeezed your eyes shut as you wiggled up a bit to bury your face into Bin's neck. You didn’t want the boys to see you cry. 

The cologne you just smelled when you were on Bin's chest, that was Chan’s cologne. The voice you just heard, that was Chan’s voice. There was a war going on in your head. Do you talk to him? Can you talk to him? What do you say? What does HE have to say?

“Y/N?” Chan said as his body snapped to you. Seeing you now burrowed into Bin’s neck and chest. 

It made the jealousy that he had before start to boil. That’s his wife, after all. Chan was your safety. He was the one you run to, not Changbin, of all people. Why does he fit so well next to you? Why does the feeling of you slipping away elicit anger at others, not himself? Why did he see you buried in Bin’s neck and not his own? It felt to him like someone was touching his favorite toy without permission. Why did she go to Bin for comfort and not him? 

“Y/N, Baby?” He asked a little louder…

“Stop calling me that,” you responded to him, muffled by Bin’s neck as you cried in your own dark cocoon, that was what you imagined when in Bin’s neck. Surrounded by him, he’d never let anyone near close. He was your safety bubble. 

Bin just moved his hand up to pet your hair back as you fought with yourself. 

The only one who knew you were crying was Bin, who felt your tears on his neck. They felt like acid on his skin, he could feel the pain through them, the fear, the rejection, the grief. He hated seeing or feeling you cry. The fact that you were comfortable enough to trust him with your fragility was the only solace in this for him. He knew that no one could protect you more than he could. That’s exactly what he’s going to do, protect you. 

“I’ve got you,” He whispered as he turned his face into you, trying to hide as much of your face as he could, to give you more shelter to cry in. He hated that you had to go through this. You would think that for even one second his bonehead bandmate would put his own ego aside for just one fucking day to give you the room you desperately needed. It’s not even like he could make the excuse of thinking that you are going through it alone. It’s clear that you aren’t, Bin always took care of you. Sometimes Chan thought that it was the perfect deal for himself. He was married to you, so obviously you wouldn’t betray him, and Bin was so in love with you that he’d move Heaven and Earth for you. So Chan being distracted was never the issue, Bin was always there. In his head Bin was like a Knight protecting the Queen in a chess game. The king doesn’t have to worry about the Queen. 

Bin’s tone with you was gentle,“You tell me to get him out and that’s exactly what we’re going to do.” His face read danger, eyes never leaving Chris.

You really didn’t know what to do. You are at a loss really. You just got about half an hour in nearly 30+ hours of being awake. One thing you do know is that you are feeling your pain uptick at the thought of leaving Bin’s neck. 

“Please, let me talk to you,” Chris pleaded with you. He tried to touch you.

Jeongin stopped him again, gripping his wrist. His grip was bruising in strength this time, “She did not say you could touch her. So you are keeping your hand to yourself. Either that or I rip it off, understand?”

Bin’s jaw was tight, if Chris made one more move, Bin was going to gently switch out with Seungmin, just to murder Chris, then switch out again so you could sleep, very simple. 

“At least let me see your face, Baby,” Chris said as he yanked his hand from I.N’s grip. 

Then you spoke again… your tone now carrying an authoritative air, “I told you not to call me that fucking name. I heard it enough when you were fucking her in our bed. Take that name and shove it, Chris.” 

“As for seeing my face, you don’t deserve to see it after what you did to me. Neither of you deserve to see my face.”

“Give us the room,” Chan ordered. He was doing his best to keep his composure and to try to gauge how much control he lost of the group. He is very much aware of the fact that the power dynamic has changed. Chan knows that they don’t even respect him, let alone trust him. Another thing that he knows is that he would feel the same way.

He’s also embarrassed, not at what he’s done but at the fact that his members found out. The fact that he was caught with his pants down, both literally and figuratively. The fact that his members watched him do something so amoral was something that he was pissed off about. Not as much at the fact that he had no moral compass, but it was the fact that they reacted the way they did. They screamed at him, Chris, Bang Chan, their elder. They challenged his authority left and right. The fact that they’re rebelling only added fuel to the fire. He wanted, needed to get control back. 

As far as he was concerned, this was all something that he could come back from. You love him, right? So obviously you’ll come back. You sunk 5 years into him, of course you’ll be back. There was far too many decent memories for you to check out now. You’re hurt, demoralized, angry, yes. However, knowing the peacekeeper you are, you’ll be back, he knows it. Why can’t they see that, why can’t they fight for him just as hard as they are fighting for you. Why can’t they get their noses out of his marriage and watch some K-Drama like they always do instead of driving a wedge further in between himself and his wife. 

The frustration alone made him want to lose his composure. Everyone has their role, that is something he is an avid believer in. To you, Chan is the protector, he’s the one to chase all the bad things away, he is your husband. Changbin is your friend, nothing more. So it drove Chan crazy to see you relax in Bin’s arms. 

He felt like Bin had no business in a bed with you. It being completely lost on him that he did the same thing, but worse with his wife’s best friend. Bin is not there to sexually gratify you, he is there to hold whatever’s left of you together. 

Bin is trying desperately to reassure you, to look at all of your broken pieces and help you, to let you know that he won’t let Chris close enough to hurt you again. 

When Chris ordered everyone to give him the room, not one person moved a muscle. All they did was look at you, waiting for an answer. 

Bin whispered to you, “Do you want us to leave?” Internally he was praying that you wouldn’t want him to go. He as well as the rest of the boys don’t trust Chris as far as they can throw him. 

You shook your head, “Can’t take it.” You knew that there would be no way that you could have this conversation alone, you’d be right back to square one. If you were honest there isn’t a way you can see this going well. You are still really weak. You can’t do much of anything at all yet, even needing help shifting in your own bed. Not to mention the person who did it to you is demanding an audience with you like you didn’t just go through a near-death experience and is barking orders at your boys. You couldn’t even scream at him for that. 

Bin looked at the boys and said, “We aren’t going anywhere, Y/N’s orders.”

With that all of the boys had a seat, smiles on their faces as if to say try us, we dare you. 

Chan’s face turned hard at that. It was worse than he thought… Not only did he lose control, he handed all of it over to you on a silver platter. Chan is an A personality type. He is very particular, one of those places he’s particular about is that he is the Alpha. He is the leader, the spearhead. So for everyone to do this, made him not only mad, but scared. He isn’t used to not being in control. That made his tone harsh as he barked,“Look, I know that you are in pain and I know that you don’t even want to see me right now, but we need to talk in private.”

Immediately I.N. bristled and took a step to him, Minho getting up and claiming the bottom half of the bed, looming on the post of it, glaring at Chan.

Felix growled, “Watch your tone, you aren’t the one calling the shots, Chris.” as he bore daggers into Chris’ forehead, standing at the ready. 

You didn’t respond and Chan said something that made your blood boil,something he knew you couldn’t ignore, “It was mine too.”

It..IT?! Your heart cracked again as you left your cocoon, “IT?!” You raised your voice. You winced at the pain the movement caused. “MY child was not an IT… THEY WERE HERE CHRIS.” You grabbed your stomach, feeling your diaphragm scream at you to be quiet, your abdominals agreeing full-heartedly. “YOU gave up ANY parentage by fucking someone else when we were trying to have a baby for TWO FUCKING YEARS!”

“WHAT?!” Han exclaimed. Han started to see red, yet again… Han thought to himself, They were trying to have a baby for 2 years?!. Han looked briefly at everyone else, their faces set in the same murderous stare that resided on Han. 

Meanwhile, Bin didn’t let that sink in, he was too busy noticing you started looking slightly confused and woozy. Whatever little color you had was turning more grey by the second.

“Y/N you need to breathe,” Bin tried to remind you. He tried his best to guide you back down but you weren't having it. Your anger taking control. He had a sinking feeling as his own heartrate picked up.

You thought for a few minutes and said, “I still can’t believe it, you know? It’s like last night was a horrible nightmare but, the pain, the blood… It really happened. My baby is really gone.” A stray tear ran down your face, “I don’t want to believe it. It hurts too much. But my body knows. It feels different. I don’t know what to do with that. I don’t… I can’t…”

Bin was watching your heart rate, the last time you tried to revisit this, you had to be sedated and apparently, Han is thinking the same thing. He looked at the monitors and got a bad feeling. 

“I just wanted to surprise you, to show you how much I love you! To let you know that I am there for you and you repay me by emotionally cheating on me with my BEST FRIEND for a YEAR and physically cheating for two whole months?! NOW YOU WANT A PRIVATE CONVERSATION?! How is this for a private conversation.” You felt your body starting to fail again. The rage coursing through you is the only thing keeping you aware of your surroundings. 

Chan went to look away, he couldn’t see you hurting this much. He couldn’t come to the realization that he did this to you. You screamed with what little energy you had , “LOOK AT ME YOU FUCKING COWARD!” as you held your stomach, trying to control the new waves of pain.

When he looked at you, you said, “Here’s a little private conversation for you. I’m granting your wish. You said to her ‘I can’t wait to leave her’... Guess what?” You gritted out, “I’m leaving you!” you started spiraling back into what happened not even a full 24 hours ago at repeating his sentence back to him. Hearing those same words in your head, seeing the blood, the reality of it once again slamming into you like it did before. 

The minute that last sentence left your lips, the world slowed down for Chris. He saw everything, the wedding, the laughs you both had. Even the simple things like how whenever he got up, which was always well before you woke up; he’d stare at you, brushing your cheekbones with his knuckles. Watching your peaceful form and marveling at how effortlessly gorgeous you are. Now as he watches you, seeing the shreds of you that were left, he had a realization. He realized all at once that the person he loves and has always loved is dead. She’s dead, along with his child, because of him.

You started staring off tears freely falling, “I just want my baby… Bin, I want my baby.” 

Your heart rate started climbing fast as you stared at your lap, seeing blood that wasn’t there anymore, then blinking and it disappearing, your face began to show distress, as tears started falling, and your mouth opened letting out rapid puffs of air. Bin looked at Han and yelled at him, "Get the nurses, go!" The next second Han ran out the door as the alarms went off on the monitors. 

Bin looked at you and said, “Hey look at me, stay here with me, Angel.” Then he looked at Minho and said, “Clear the room. Get Chan out of her NOW!” Minho immediately started getting everyone up and out of the room as fast as possible. 

Chris slowly backed up until he hit the wall,everything moving in slow motion. He looked at the monitor, seeing your ungodly fast heart rate. The fact that you could die right now from a heart attack made him want to collapse to his knees and start praying. Chris was watching how Bin handled you, tears were starting to sting in his eyes. He was shaking, feeling the gold of his wedding band as he watched a man who was so much more than he could be. How delicate he was with you. Why did I do this? 

He was staring at your face, he could see it, the heartbreak. He wanted to help, to take all of it back. Flashes of memories flickered in his mind. All of the opportunities he had to be with you but chose not to. All of the times that you would try to save him from himself, even if it was as simple as reminding him to eat. He’d yell at you and tell you that he was a grown up. I’m not grown. You’d remind him to get up and stretch, to be present in the now.  You always tried to connect to him, always tried to soothe him, always tried to bridge the gap he put in between the both of you. His heart felt like lead, sinking further. His voice, his legs, his body didn’t move. It was Innah who dragged him out of the room by the collar.

Bin looked back at you, “Y/N…” He could see, you were completely dissociated. 

You weren’t responding to him at all, eyes glazed over as your heart rate kept climbing, you were glancing around, clearly confused. What he didn’t know is that you felt everything at once. You could hear him like he was underwater. Your vision was blurry, and you really couldn’t feel anything aside from the pain in your chest at the thought of anything, because you felt guilty.

“Angel, look at me, try to breathe for me. Come back to me.” 

“They should be here, not me. My baby didn’t deserve that Binnie. I want to hold my baby!” You screamed, “I want to take them a bath, feed them, I want my Baby.”

Bin realized then that it’s the reality that’s so painful. Everything that was around you reminded you of the fact that you were living and your child wasn’t. He could see the pain on your face as he gently held your face, trying to get through to you. “I know you want to hold your baby, I want that too. I want that so badly but I can’t give you your baby, that can’t happen. No one can bring your baby back, Angel.” Tears were rolling down his face at seeing you like this. Your eyes were constantly searching as more tears fell from them, he tried to wipe the tears away as fast as they rolled down your cheeks.

 Bin got behind you, caging you with his arms and chest. He pulled you flush to his chest and ran his hands up and down your arms as he slowly rocked you. He was trying to provide enough stimulation to get you back to being able to self-regulate. You were only getting worse as he watched helplessly. He tilted your head back to see you spiraling further down, “Binnie help me. I want my baby please.” You just wanted to let it consume you already. 

You quaked as you wished out loud, screaming without even knowing it, “Please, just let me die, let me go, I want my Baby.” You knew it was the pain, but at this point, not having your child was worse than death. You screamed without fighting anymore. Sometimes the seconds would stretch as you screamed till no air was left to make a noise. Those sobs made you feel like your chest was in a car crusher. You couldn’t stop them no matter how hard you tried, but in your mind, there was no point in stopping them. 

Changbin’s blood ran cold hearing you say that, feeling as if he got dunked in an ice bath. He choked on his own breath as he did his best to try to get his own voice to work. You may not want to be here right now, but he’s going to make sure that you make it. He looked into your eyes and they were completely dilated, you just lay on Bin’s chest as you made the decision. You were done fighting, the pain was too much. Bin felt it, he could feel the fight leave you as you went limp, crying. 

He knows this feeling… this was the same feeling that he felt when you were losing consciousness. His gaze snapped to your eyes, no fight, no struggle. You looked like you were calling out to Death. You wanted it so badly. What was worse was that Death was answering, he could feel it in the room. Cold, dark, and looming. 

His body went into overdrive, the shock melting into panic. He wasn’t going to let Death take you, “Han hurry up, she's slipping!” He screamed at the door. His scream didn’t sound like him. The sound akin to a bystander watching a loved one jump from a bridge. Watching the body disappear all because of one step. He couldn’t wouldn’t let you fall. He screamed as if he dove for your hand, the same hand that fits so perfectly in his, as you threatened to disappear over the ledge of that bridge.

Bin got closer to your ear, so you could hear him better, “Please don’t say that. I know it hurts, just stay with me, hold on. I’m here. Stay with me. You can’t leave me here, please.” Changbin tilted your head, so you could hear his heartbeat. Subconsciously thinking, If you go I go. He gently wrapped his arm across your breastbone, trying to provide some soothing pressure to your chest. His hand resting on your opposite arm, rubbing the meat of it in a soothing pattern. His other hand was petting your hair. The hold he had you in gave you someone to hold on to. As soon as his forearm rested you wrapped your hands around it, grabbing his hand as you dangled on the ledge.

“Binnie it hurts, pleaseee. Help me, it hurtss.” You sobbed, your voice cracking and breaking, a mirror of your soul. Bin continued to slowly rock you, “I know Angel, I know I want to take it away. Just hold on for me. Hold on to me.” He had no idea how he was able to be calm for you. A part of him knew that he needed to. He was not going to collapse so you could face all of this on your own. He refused. He needed to fight for you, and he would, for eternity if he had to.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

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[yinyangofnevermore]

So you’re considering watching RWBY

Or you’re trying to convince someone else to watch it

(I made another similar post about this a while back)

But you/they aren’t sure. Something is holding you/them back. Like:

“But the animation n stuff is SO BAD!” - Sure. In the beginning it’s not great (though many of us now look back on those early volumes with fondness.) But you have to understand, RWBY started as a passion project at a small company with a budget of like $20 (yes I’m exaggerating but STILL.) They simply didn’t have the funds for good animation. But, after volume 3 came out, the show became a literal international hit and so the budget increased. And, subsequently, so did the animation quality. You can see that progression easily enough here. The quality goes from this:

To this:

“It looks stupid and childish!” - Yeah, in the beginning it’s meant to seem silly. And it still has its cartoonishly silly moments later on too. But those silly moments are meant to soften the blow of the PAIN. Because, while RWBY starts off as a silly, “good always triumphs over evil” slice of life magic academy type show it does not STAY that. There is PAIN. LOTS OF IT! If you keep watching, you’ll find out within like 6 hrs worth of watching that it’s not just some silly slice of life show. There is a complete 180 along the way when you find out what RWBY is truly about. The show actually delves into some pretty heavy stuff. PTSD, abuse, neglect, abandonment issues, alcoholism, loss, the inability to move on from loss for some, and more. For more on this, check out this post.

“I saw some stuff on Twitter/Tumblr/Youtube about how bad it is.” - That’s because there are ppl out there who want the show to be something it’s not. Or they got upset when things didn’t happen the way they wanted. Like Blacksun shippers or Adam and Ironwood Stans. Or they just want to shit on something. But EVERY show has its haters. Every piece of media has its haters. And they like to be loud edgelords about it. Sometimes just to be controversial and pick a fight. But that doesn’t mean shit. There are ppl out there who absolutely hate your favorite pieces of media, whether you’re aware of it or not. And that doesn’t stop you from liking it, does it? Don’t let a few haters prevent you from potentially finding your new favorite thing. Because there are a LOT of ppl out there who absolutely LOVE this show.

“I tried watching the first few episodes and I just... Couldn’t.” - Dude, I get it. Trust me. I did the same exact thing when I started watching. I watched the first couple of episodes and literally turned it off. But then I saw a few ppl posting about it here on Tumblr a while later and gave it a second shot on a whim. And BOY did it not disappoint when I got far enough in (and yes, that took a minute.) Mind you, this was back when Volume 3 was originally airing, so the drastic improvements in animation hadn’t happened yet. But I stuck with it anyways. And now look at me. But the show does take a while to really ramp up, so to speak. The beat doesn’t DROP until a bit later on in volume 3.

But, if you enjoy character growth and analysis, then you will most likely enjoy this show. The number of analyses on Tumblr and prolly Twitter as well are MANY. The main 4 characters are badass ladies learning how to fight and deal with life. Every character in the show is based on either a fairy tale, mythology, history, pop culture, etc. (sometimes they have multiple allusions to different degrees) and teasing out those details on top of everything else is quite fun if you enjoy searching for Easter eggs, significant imagery, foreshadowing, parallels, and so on. Interesting villains too. Not just the standard “Evil Witch because she’s evil with henchmen” thing. But fleshed out villains that have their Reasons™️. Like “Cinderella took so much abuse as a kid/teenager that she fucking snapped” type reasons. There is SO MUCH you can delve into with this show if you want to. Details as small as a whale statue in Gepetto’s office, or Belle reading a book with a candelabrum that looks like Lumiere, or characters wearing the colors of the person they love, or characters having eyes the color of their love’s aura (an extension of their soul.) SO MANY PLACES TO FIND THESE DETAILS. Including the lyrics to the music.

Which leads me to the music in this show is freaking AWESOME. And if you can’t appreciate that Casey Lee Williams has been singing in these soundtracks since she was like 13 or 14 (and listening to how she’s grown as a musician throughout it all to the point where she is now one of the music leads for the show) then I don’t know what to tell you. The music is all produced in house. And the lyrics reflect that. Each song is from the perspective of a RWBY character (or like team RWBY in general, depending on the song) and the lyrics give insights either about the characters or about stuff in the show (lore, foreshadowing, etc.) And they’re as fun to analyze as they are to jam out to.

The writing is FANTASTIC. Is it perfect? No. Of course not. They made mistakes along the way. Prolly will make some more. But every piece of media does to some extent. People aren’t perfect and so neither are their creations. But those imperfections don’t outweigh how amazing the story they’ve woven is. The writers of RWBY constantly subvert expectations in a BRILLIANT way. Not in a “wtf?? Where did that come from?” sort of way. But in a “OMG! Now that I go back and watch this again it makes SO MUCH SENSE” sort of way. And things that happen in early volumes actually COME BACK to affect things later. The show doesn’t just MOVE ON. The writers have been playing the long game this whole time. And rewatches will almost always show new details and foreshadowing you might have missed before.

Also, it GAY. And it’s THE major romance of the show. Not just a side story. And the voice actors are the Captains of the Ship! And it’s a beautifully written slow burn romance (amongst other romances also in the show) with yearning and pining for DAYS.  I believe it was Monty who said, “Good romance is earned.” And boy are they earning it!

So, in short, FUCKING WATCH RWBY.

DAMMIT.

If you do decide to watch, Volumes 1-8 are all on RoosterTeeth.com for free or everything is on Crunchyroll. And I definitely suggest starting with the 4 trailers, in order: Red, White, Black, then Yellow.

[romanarose]

Talk to Me

Santiago Garcia x afab!reader

Join my taglist!

Main Masterlist : Triple Frontier Masterlist

Buy Me A Coffee : Kofi

Summary: You open up to Santi about being sexually assaulted.

Warnings: Description of sexual assault. Just all the warnings there. Santi responds how I'd like a partner to respond in this setting (Ideally I'd like them to kill my rapists but unfortunetly this is the real world :(). Just be aware this could potentially be very triggering but I was trying to find a fic like this and couln't so I just made it.

Immersivity: Reader is so longer in teens (meaning not 18 or 19) I think thats it. gender neuatral but reader is AFAB

A/N as is the natue for many of these kinds of stories, I am describing my real life experience. Everyone is different, and no matter what, how you responded (fight flight freeze or fawn) or how you got into that position or how old you were, weather it involved physical violence or coercion or alcohol it's all traumatizing its all awful and you deserve to be heard and believed and comforted, and to have some form of justice whatever that may look like for you.

"It was stupid, honestly." You mutter, sitting up against the headboard of Santi's bed.

Santiago Garcia was the first guy you dated that had anything more than a box spring on the floor and who washed his legs, so things had been looking up. You were staying over at Santi's place, enjoying a nice saturday in, and dozed off only to be woken up by Santiago trying to be playful. He had grabbed your ankle, tugging at you saying 'wakey wakey eggs and bakey! Well, there's not eggs. Or bacon honestly. But I can doordash some- are you okay?'

You had begun to have a panic attack, something that Santi wasn't knew to handling with you. Over the months you were dating, he came to know your anxiety and depressive episodes, learning how to help deal with them. He wasn't knew to mental health: Will had PTSD bad enough he used to black out. Ben suffered from nightmares and panic attacks. Frankie buried his depression in addiction.

Today was different. Other times the panic attacks came from general anxiety things. Life surrounding Santi... today, it was clear he triggered it. He felt awful, an absolute wreck, making you cry when all he ever wanted to do was make you smile. So, he helped calm you down, and when you were ready, he broached the subject. He had suspected for a while now that someone had hurt you, but seeing as the relationship was fairly new still he didn't think it was his place to ask.

Now, the two of you sit together on his bed, parallel. You couldn't look in his eyes.

"It's not stupid. I promise."

You huff, crossing your arms and sinking into the bed just a little. "The whole ankle thing wasn't even that actual night, but a few weeks before. It was college. I had this group of friends I worked with and partied with a lot. Usually at this one couples place where a fuck ton of people lived. It was my friends place so we got drunk and I crashed on the couch when everyone went to bed. I was passed out but not like... not unconcious. In and out of sleep I guess. This guy who lived there with his pregnant girlfriend, Kody, he sat on the other end of the couch and just... started touching my ankles and legs. Massaging kinda. He occasionally said things to me that I dunno... made me feel good I guess. Maybe he was calling me hot but I don't remember. I just remember I'd pull my leg away sometimes and he'd keep touching or would wait until I stretched out again. I never really liked my legs touched. Tickleish I guess. But he wouldn't quit. I had the distinct feeling if I fell asleep he'd um... touch more."

You can hear Santi take a deep breath. "But he didn't that night?"

You shake your head. "My friends boyfriend came out and grabbed him. Said something like 'what the fuck is wrong with you' or something. Then put him in his room where his girlfriend was."

"He knew he was trying something."

"Yeah, I guess."

"And they still stayed friends?"

You can't help chuckle darkly at the nievty. "bro's before hoes."

But Santi isn't having it.

"What- that not-"

"Would you really stop being friends with one of the guys if you knew they-"

"They wouldn't. They aren't like that."

"I know. But if they did."

"Gone. No questions asked." The resolution in his voice made you smile.

"Anyway." You sigh. "Doesn't matter because a few weeks later I partied with them again and it happened so. I did that to myself." The tears and shame well up in your eyes, and Santiago grabs your hand.

"It's not your fault, amor. It's his, only his. Your were a teenager."

"Old enough to know better."

"Stop it."

"Old enough to know I shouldn't have gotten turned on."

Santi remained quiet at that, letting you continue.

You rest your head on his shoulder. "I was horny. Like, mad horny back then. He kept feeding me drinks and for hours he would touch me whenever people weren't looking. I was so fucking drunk, Santi. Like, the kind where you just puke int he bathroom then go back to partying. After a while I didn't just go along with it I kinda... I touched him too." With that, you begin to cry and Santiago pulls you into his arms as you finish. "We went to my dorm and he... he followed me but I let him in and I didn't fight back, and and, and, it felt good and I hated that it felt good and I hated that he knew how to touch me and I hated that he was complimenting me the whole time and I just wanted it to stop! I wanted to start screaming, I wanted to but thought about how I touched him back and my friend saw us kiss and... I just knew there was no way to prove anything. I knew it would just be embarrassing. He was a shift lead at work and I was new and I just knew there was no way anyone would believe me..."

"Baby..." Santiago's heart was broken, holding you closely to him and wishing he had been there, wishing he could have protected you.

"Eventually I started passing out. Most of my memories of that night were blacked out anyway... I couldn't even get into the car by myself. I just kinda... gave up, I guess. I let sleep take take me and let him do whatever. Sometimes I woke up and just went back to sleep. I couldn't even lift my head anymore."

Santiago rubbed your back soothingly. It felt nice to have him there. You ran those two nights through your head again and again, all alone, it was such a comfort to be held by someone you trusted while you think throught it.

"What happened in the morning, baby love? Was he gone?"

You're griping his shirt tight. "No. He fell alseep in bed with me, in the shitty twin mattress I had lofted. I just... i remember his sticky skin. I think about that a lot. I was delirious still but needed to get away so I stumbled my way to the couch and slept for I don't know how long. Then my alarm went off and I needed to go to math class because I wasn't doing good. I had to.... I had to go back to my room and wake him up. I didn't wanna touch him but he needed to leave. I just remember thinking 'I have class, I can't miss class' which like... should be the least of my worries. Anyway he um... He got up eventually and walked home. I tried not to interact with him after that. I dropped out at the end of the semester." You rub your face on Santi's sleep shirt, aware you're getting snot on it.

"He um... it was.... inside... I was just in shock for the next week, you know? I didn't get any plan B and then it was too late... So I just prayed and prayed I wasn't pregnant. I don't know what I would have done, honestly, but their weren't any abortion clinics nearby so. Who knows. All I know is every time some old politician man wants to make a rule banning abortions, they'll never be 19 sobbing between classes in the bathroom begging for their period to come."

He let you cry for a while, let out all your sobs and heaves and snot while he rubbed your back, whispering sweet nothing into your ear. When it was done, when you'd cried it all out finally, Santiago pulls you onto his lap, straddling him. He cups your face in his hands, looking you directly in the eye so you could feel the honest in them. A single dark curl fell over his forehead.

"I love you. I believe you. I don't blame you." He tilts your head down to press a chaste kiss on your nose. "I don't blame you for how you felt when he manipulated your body. I don't blame you forgoing back and partying with him after he touched your legs. I don't blame you for not getting plan B or wanting to get to math class or touching him. If you were so drunk you could barely walk, if you were blacking out, there's not way he could have consented. You were innocent."

You hug him.

A tight, child-like hug, clinging to him like your lifeboat in a storm, the anchor that keeps you grounded.

This is what you needed to hear. You needed to know that even if you weren't this idea of the perfect victim, you were still a victim. You were taken advantage of raped by a man who saw you as simply something to use, and it wasn't your fault.

Thank you so much for reading.

The year after this hapened to me was really bad, almost loft my life a few times. Words cannot describe how badly this broke me as a person, and my friends were extremely worried about me.

Againn, this was extremely self indulgent. I needed to hear these words from my beloved Santi, my sweet man <3

I love you all, and it wasn't your fault.

you can keep up by joining my tag list, joining my tumblr community, or following @romana-updates

[panikkar]

thinking about how the three of the biggest relationships in bucks life are pretty significantly tied to helicopters/helicopter crashes,,, (partially inspired by this post by @maygrcnt)

taylor kelly: met her when her news helicopter crash. not the first person he seriously dated but definitely is the most serious romantic relationship he had yknow. can’t forget the whole couch metaphor arc.

eddie: i mean it’s pretty self explanatory but eddie’s helicopter crash when he was in the army caused him to be discharged and forced to be reliant on his family again, which is what made him move to la, where, of course, he met buck. they’re literally thee most important person in each others lives. they’re besties. coparents (when the only help eddie’s had as a coparent is shannon, who left (no hate to her it’s complicated shit and she did die but still she did), and his parents, who were controlling and not what either of them needed and also just generally really shitty to eddie at the time (ESPECIALLY re his parenting). and then buck comes along and like within a year he’s like i trust you with my life and my son and my sons life! after everything!! and puts buck as chris’ legal guardian in his will—) n e ways yeah that but also eddie’s ptsd related to the whole helicopter crash incident was super significant later in their relationship too bc eddie was at his lowest point (a place he’d been before but back then, his wife left him and his parents actively made everything worse instead of helping) and buck just like. steps in WITH eddie and gives him what he needs and like takes care of eddie and chris in they way they both need instead of forcing them into what he thinks they need like eddie’s parents did. yeah. and eddie actually did some healing then unlike the last time. so eddie is easily the most important and serious and intimate (like platonically but also Not) relationship buck has ever had, more so than any of bucks gfs.

and then tommy comes around!!! a fuckin helicopter pilot. he and buck first meet not necessarily in a helicopter crash but in a helicopter. in an emergency situation. and they draw SO MANY parallels between tommy and eddie and taylor (he and eddie have a lot in common like with the whole army and martial arts stuff and they get really close really fast and then BUCK HIMSELF drawing the taylor parallels. literally biting at my enclosure.) and wow! look at that! they kiss (and soon start a relationship) and tommy is literally not only the first man buck has ever kissed, but also the catalyst for buck realizing he’s bi. (or, at least, that those feelings bucks had for men in the past (cough cough eddie) are like mushy romantic/sexual/Very Not Platonic things.) literally even if they just kissed that once and had no relationship past that it’s still a massively impactful (non)relationship for buck!!!

and somehow. somehow the most important relationships in bucks life are all connected to helicopter crashes/emergencies. and they’re only characters who have such big connections to said helicopter crashes/emergencies. and they all have relationships that are incredibly important and impactful to buck. this is literally canon.

[vashtijoy]

objectively, just objectively, the ‘phansite’ and ‘phandom’ are the worst names they could of come up with. just. ptsd all around whenever i hear it.

I feel you, anon. It gives me flashbacks to 90s leetspeak, where "ph00l" and similar usages were so in vogue. But let's not forget that Mishima comes up with the site, and Mishima (named for dead author Yukio Mishima, who was so desperate to be cool that he ultimately committed seppuku) is also exactly the sort of guy who would have thought leetspeak was cool. All this stuff sounds kind of cringy because Mishima is cringy.

Let's let him tell us all about it:

Mishima 怪盗お願いチャンネルだよ。略しS『怪チャン』ね。 kaitou onegai channeru da yo. ryaku shite "kai chan" ne It's the Phantom Aficionado Website. Phan-Site, for short.

怪盗お願いチャンネル kaitou onegai channeru Phantom Aficionado Website Phantom Thief Requests Channel

Look at that for a moment. Mishima's site is not really a fan site, despite it being called an "aficionado website". It's a request site. While it acts as a fansite, and Mishima intends it to try and control the narrative regarding the PTs, we mainly experience it as the place Mementos requests roll in—hence its name.

怪チャン kai chan Phan-Site

You see what they did there? The Japanese kai chan takes the first syllable of kaitou and channeru and forms a portmanteau—very commonly done. The translation does the same, stripping a syllable from phantom and website.

The full name gets shortened in various other ways:

お願いチャンネル onegai channeru Request Channel

怪盗チャンネル kaitou channeru Phantom Thief Channel

Online, the site describes itself as 怪盗ｃｈ kaitou ch, paralleling 2chan, 4chan, and all the other chan-style imageboard sites that originated in Japan. This is essentially what the Phan-Site is—a 4chan-style anonymous imageboard. See that ＠名無し nanashi at the bottom? The message is signed "nameless", or "Anonymous", the default name used on 2chan.

By the way, it really bears mentioning here that Futaba, our resident, hacker, geek, and representative of geek culture, is named after 2chan—also known as the Futaba Channel. 佐倉双葉 sakura futaba, "Futaba Sakura". 双葉チャンネル futaba channeru—2chan, or the Futaba Channel.

Her mother, Wakaba, is named after a piece of backend software 2chan uses: "Wakaba is a Perl imageboard script with a SQL backend to store thread information."

quietly removes Perl hacker hat

usage

Mishima's website is overwhelmingly known as the "Phan-Site" or kai chan, of course. There's a general trend where people start out calling it the kaitou onegai channeru, then quickly move through some variant on onegai channeru or kaitou channeru to more or less use kai chan.

Are there any interesting trends? Sure. Haru (who admittedly comes in very late) never uses kai chan. Akechi never mentions the site itself, though he has a few mentions of the rankings. Joker always calls it the kai chan. Most of the team manage an occasional onegai channeru, kaitou channeru or kaitou onegai channeru at one point or another—even Ryuji comes out with the full site name quite late, under stress. Mishima, of course, mentions the site more than anyone else—possibly as much, or more, than all the PTs put together. But even to him, it's virtually always the kai chan.

Many background or minor characters have one mention of the kaitou onegai channeru, or the onegai channeru, or the rankings.

"the phandom"

This is funny, not least because Joker is so puzzled by it: Mishima is using this term he doesn't recognise, which users of the Phan-Site have thought up for themselves. But the original is rather different:

Mishima アクセス数、着実に増えてるんだよ。これ、本気で流行語狙えるかも。 akusesu suu, chakujitsu ni fueteru n da yo. kore, honki de ryuukougo neraeru ka mo That's what users of the Phan-Site call themselves! It's really caught on as the forum's gotten more popular. Well, the hit count is going up and up, you know. I really think this label could catch on!

Just look at this. Mishima has earlier described fans of the PTs not as a generic "the Phandom", but as 怪チャンユーザー kai chan yuuzaa—"Phan-Site users"!

Mishima is not describing an organically developing fan culture here. This is Mishima the entrepreneur, aggressively building what he sees as his brand. honki de ryuukougo neraeru ka mo—"I honestly think we could aim to get this phrase on everyone's lips".

Of course, in English, "Phan-Site users" sounds incredibly bland. It needed to be spiced up—not that it's exactly peppy in Japanese AFAIK. But this is the point, underscoring why Joker is so unsettled and what's going on in Mishima's confidant: if you're talking about the PTs, Mishima wants you to be talking about his website.

In fact, in a way, Mishima is on the same page as Shido and Akechi—and, more innocently, Ryuji. He wants the Phan-Site to be massive. And he's doing everything within his power to make it that way.

"phanboy"

This one's used a few times, too. When you draw on the blackboard, people can ask if you're a Phanboy:

Students {family name}って、かなりの怪盗マニアか? {family name} tte, kanari no kaitou mania ka? Is {family name} a Phanboy?

kanari no kaitou mania ka?—"Is he a bit of a Phantom Thief fan?" "Is he this interested in the Phantom Thieves in particular?"

You can ask Akechi if he's a Phanboy—literally, of course, "are you a Phantom Thief fan?":

Joker 怪盗ファン? kaitou fan? Are you a Phanboy?

This page goes into the distinctions between otaku, mania and fan:

The difference between "otaku" and "mania" is vague, and there is no particular definition. However, in the field of linguistics, there seems to be a difference in that ``otaku'' refers to ``people who are only interested in one thing,'' and ``mania'' refers to ``people who concentrate on one thing.'' ... The difference between ``otaku'' and ``mania'' is still ambiguous, but in general, ``fan'' is used with a slightly more subdued nuance than the other two.

So the students around the blackboard are going "Wow, we didn't know he was a fan!", while Joker's question to Akechi is maybe more delicate, more like "Huh, are they growing on you?", or "Since when were you a fan?" Like in English, you might not mind someone calling you a fan, but you probably don't want to be known as an otaku, which suggests that you're too interested, and probably live in a basement.

"P-Thieves"

This one seems to have no original equivalent. The few lines that use it either don't name the PTs at all, or they use 怪盗団 kaitou-dan, "the Phantom Thieves". This is an artefact of "Phantom Thieves" just feeling much more unwieldy in English than kaitou does in Japanese—abbreviations for it would inevitably crop up.

But this one sucks. Can I do better? I'm not sure I can, lol.

[blazingstar29]

aw shucks someone (@bo0tleg) gave me the slight push i needed to bang on about bad moon

allegedly the song isn't political in nature it just has that vibe and happened to be released in 1969. which is part of one wild fucking time in u.s history (see here for a list of events). Nixon begins the removal of U.S troops from South Vietnam.

I'm going to sort of spoil bad moon here (but not really) so be warned.

War is at the very core of bad moon. Whether it's between ice and maverick or literal war. Part of me stopped writing for a while as I tossed up whether I should be writing about a war in fanfiction when war is happening right now and hurting real life people. There's some topics I don't right because they're too real and I considered if this should be one of them. The war in Gaza continues and people are dying. But then I realised that mav's perspectives need to run their course. His blase attitude to warfare needs to evolve like i always intended. And war is real, I can't pretend it doesn't.

Anyway that was my brief crisis i had for a while. But Mav is very numb to war in the fic so far, he sees it as another mission because he's so wrapped up in his head. Part of his story will be facing his own PTSD and coming to terms with fighting similar wars as his father and actually adress what he is fighting for.

To me, bad moon rising is about paranoia and fear in the world during the 60's and 70's. Fear of communism, war, human rights. And that's what is also at the core of icemav in this fic. Fear is what tore them apart to begin with. The liberation of kuwait, mav realising what he is fighting for physically and emotionally, it's all parallels for their story.

And top be honest, i don't know where this story is going to end. i do but i don't. So really, anything could happen. But yk, there's a bad moon rising n' all. So they're going to have to deal with that

[herzlak]

Tatort Dortmund: Cash (REWATCH)

second time trauma :)

one thing about jan is, dass er in jeder szene entweder aussieht als würd er gleich heulen oder als wär er auf drogen

okay stopp hatte der fussballer n pride schweissband?

JA OMG! here's to tortmund's gay hint tradition

"was du heute kannst entsorgen" und dann cut to jan pawlak is my favourite thing about cash

triggert mich so hart, dass jan rosas anruf wegdrückt... like girl, du hast echt NICHTS aus liebe mich gelernt

dieser kleine ktuler mit der "ich hab schon ganze zwei neue neue deutsche welle songs geschrieben" frisur ist scho cute

"ach??" "wirklich???" "wir gehen!!!!" ROSA I LOVE YOU

to quote my bestie "jan ist wie so n nerviges kleines kind, dass dich dauernd fragt, ob du spiele auf deim handy hast"

finds so lustig, dass ihnen nach drei jahren mal wieder eingefallen ist, dass rosa ja mikromimik lesen kann

"aufmachen! polizei!" HALT DEIN MAUL JAN DU UNLUSTIGER SAFTSACK

NIEMAND würd dich vermissen!!! *proceeds to miss jan very much*

"und noch n zwanni fürn automaten" OH MEIN GOTT SEI EINFACH LEISE

der macht mich so aggressiv der pawlak

okay aber als ob jan so ne musik hört

für mich hört der mac miller und ekkstacy

schatzi, der jan greift dauernd leute tätlich an, der hat nora geschubst, der hat ella und rosa und auch dich am arm gepackt

"fick dich" lol king

fabers ermittlungstaktik isses einfach seine enemies anzuschwulen

"was ich privat mache" als wär seine arbeit nur so n hobby nebenbei junge

counting "pferderennen" as masken reference

spuckt der auch noch aufn boden ey

wollnsiemichverarschenoderwas?!?!

allein wegen jan gibt's jetzt immer klare sprache version vom tatort

ok "aber an mir lässt sies aus" hab ich definitiv überhört letztes mal

"können wir nich abhauen?" auch

wenn jan zumindest körperlich anwesend wär

wieso isn rosas pinker textmarker eigentlich in jan stiftehalter?

mir egal was die enraged boomers sagen, ich finds ganz toll, dass rosa gendert

und, dass faber es versucht lol

so süß wie sie in der ecke steht und sich die nase reibt like "hihi :)"

ich hab rosa einfach so lieb, es is unreal

missed opportunity, dass rosa und faber sich nicht den ball zugepasst haben

sevilla, digga.

counting the "hey" as heile welt ref-

"meister :D"

"was sachste?" "was sachter?"

"den ess ich noch" FABER I LOVE YOU

ich LIEBE diese parallelen bei den verhören im dortmund tatort, die sagen immer irgendwas, was man auch aufs ermittlerteam beziehen kann

ey rosas erste frage ist "hast du was mit der?" UND DANN BIN ICH VERRÜCKT, WENN ICH HERZLAK SHIPPE?

dieses lila colour grading in der szene........

now kiss!

was soll denn jan für überstunden abfeiern??

drehbuch so: *rosa relieved "endlich isser weg" exhale*, dann *rosa ptsd "fuck ich werd wieder verlassen" exhale*

finds ganz wundervoll, wie oft wir in cash rosas dutt von hinten sehen

important fact: rosa ist irgendwann nach liebe mich umgezogen

faber einfach die therapeuten pipeline hingelegt

macht mich soo glücklich wie rosa da so sau wütend auf das auto einschlägt :>

verständlich, dass das steffi liebste szene war

"ich teil halt gern mit meinen freunden" mhm

okay wait, ist des das zweite mal, dass jan sich blöd verplappert hat und deshalb noch wer ermordet wird? zorn parallel?

cash ist echt ne einzige parallele, i love it

"turteltäubchen" AND THEN YOU EXPECT ME NOT TO SHIP THEM-

faber so: get in line, ich hab schon viele leute wütend gemacht

rosa ist so richtig schön zickig in cash, ich liebs so sehr

bin immer noch der meinung, dass jan trotzdem abgerutscht ist und das nicht alles gespielt war

seriously, guckt ihn an, der lappen kann niemals so gut schauspielern

"frau dingenskirchen" <3

"wir sind immer noch ein team" rosa, nein :/

funfact: rosas sweatshirtjacke ist die von jan aus tollwut, sie hatse nur versehentlich zur grünen wäsche

(funfact: der funfact war gelogen)

hol den baseball schläger, fabermaus!

nimm den baseball schläger mit, rosamaus!!!

dünnes eis, iramaus

die is so kackendreist die frau

"weinen hilft nicht" doch???

hachhh jan mit rosas armband <3

andere seniorinnen häkeln oder machen kreuzworträtsel, britta zeigt wöchentlich ihren schwiegersohn an

"wenn du hilfe brauchst, dann..." :(

tut schon weh, wie lieb jan sie anlächelt

alles an dieser szene tut weh tbh

steffi und rick spielen einfach zu gut :<

rosa sieht aus als hätt sie die halbe nacht geheult :|

sie guckt so süß aawwww!! :3

okay graf tot, abakay eingekastelt, wen soll faber jetzt anschwulen?

die tatsache, dass die klasnic ihren kaffee mit deM STIEL VON NER GABEL UMRÜHRT

dass jan n armband von rosa dabei hat, bedeutet mir scho so n bissl die welt <3

gps. hat sie gesehen. mädel, du wirst auch noch kommissarin

honestly, ich will in fünfzehn jahren jana giesel irgendwo als lead role im tatort sehen, die spielt jetzt schon so toll

HALT DIE FRESSE MIT SEVILLA JAN DU DISAPPOINTMENT AUF ZWEI BEINEN

ich hoffe er kriegt fett sonnenbrand der elende vampir

und ich hoffe, er kommt irgendwann wieder zurück für die allerletzte folge :(((

nächste folge wissen wir dann nicht, wen wir zuerst mitm baseball schläger kloppen - die klasnic, matuschek, haller oder die bütow

(am besten alle, weil gewalt ist therapeutisch wie wir gelernt haben)

[wheneclipsefalls]

Forever My Babygirl pt.2

Part 1 Part 3

Pairing: Tuktirey (aged up to 16) x Metkayina Male OC

Summary: Romance begins to blossom between Tuk and Teeysal depsite Jake’s dissaproval. 

Warnings: signs of PTSD, nightmares

A/N: Due to popular request on Ao3, I decided to make this into a little series. Let me know what you think:)

Two weeks stuck close to home, only allowed out to fulfill her chores and responsibilities. Tuktirey was positively restless. Her only source of real entertainment was her siblings coming to visit. On a lucky day Tuk got to witness Neteyam and Lo’ak having one of their customary arguments. Although never a supporter of contention, Tuk found herself aching for any type of mental stimulation. 

Neytiri often took pity on the girl and tried to find little tasks for her to complete in the marui but it never properly supplemented the exciting ocean activities Tuk looked forward to every day. Stuck inside with nothing better to do, she found herself thinking about the Metkayina boy over and over. Her heart rate would pick up as she thought about what her father said about Teeysall trying to court her. Tuk had never thought about romance with the boy before but once the idea was put into her head, she found it impossible to dismiss. Her thoughts would become affixed on the concept. 

Sometimes Tuk would find her cheeks heating up as she thought about the tender way Teeysal held her on the island. A little smile would grace her face while cutting vegetables for dinner as she remembered all the small gifts he had gone out of his way to give her. These new thoughts would plague her brain to the point of provoking small giggles out of her mouth as she worked on her projects. When asked what she was laughing at, Tuk would try to hide her blushing cheeks and recount some funny memory as the source.  

Finally free from grounding, Tuktirey ran along the pathways dodging other clan members as she raced by. She needed to be quick before Neteyam made it to the marui to pick her up. A giddy excitement crept over her as she spotted Teeysal and some other Metkayina warriors pulling in nets of fish. Her toes anxiously wiggled in the sand as she watched the group from afar. 

With only two weeks apart, Tuk could not tell if it was her imagination or if the boy had really  grown taller since she last saw him. His hair had changed into simple tight braids that led into a messy bun at the back of his head. The boy was enraptured in what appeared to be a story one of the other Metkayina warriors told. 

As the boys made their way up the beach, Tuk made sure to keep her body hidden behind the tree so that she would not be spotted. Teeysal bid the group goodbye and began walking towards the small path that stretched parallel to the group of trees Tuk hid in. She waited till both of their figures were out of sight from the beach before jumping in front of the boy. 

 Teeysal let out a cry of surprise already halfway into a pouncing crouch before he recognized the girl before him. 

“Tuk! By Eywa…” The words drifted off as he laid a hand over his heart as if to slow the thumping heartbeat down. 

“I’m sorry! Did I scare you?”

“No no, just startled me-” Loose strands of hair framed his face as he urgently looked around their surroundings for witnesses. Gently placing a hand on each of her biceps, he maneuvered both of them into the clove of trees and away from prying eyes. “What are you doing here? I heard you got in trouble-”

“Yeah I was grounded but it’s over now.” The words toppled out without thought as Tuk began to feel nerves flutter in her stomach. Her mind began to question whether or not coming out here was a good idea after all. What if the boy wanted nothing to do with her after the way her father yelled at him? 

“Well that’s good I was worried about you.” Her heart skipped a beat at the words. Looking back up at the ocean blue eyes, Tuk found the boy smiling back at her. A new type of nerves coiled in her stomach at the sight. 

“I came to apologize.” The words came out barely above a whisper as she gripped the object behind her back. Instantly Teeysal was shaking his head. “It was my fault we were out there and…I didn’t mean to get you in trouble.” Feeling another wave of guilt wash over, Tuk forced herself to keep eye contact. 

“No Tuk, you don’t need to apologize. I should have known better. Your father was right, I should have taken you home. I’m older and I should have acted like it.” 

“My dad was very…” Tuk trailed off, searching for the right words.

“Intense.” He finished for her. She looked up to find him giving her a reassuring smile. Tuk couldn’t help but think how backwards the situation was. She was supposed to be comforting him, not the other way around. 

“Yes. I promise he is not so bad once he gets to know you, it’s just that…” Words failed her once more and Tuk found herself getting more and more frustrated with her lack of articulation. Usually Tuk had more to say than what she knew what to do with. 

“You are his daughter. It is normal for fathers to be cautious of who their daughters hang around with. I did not do a good job of presenting myself in an honorable manner.”

“He didn’t have to be so mean, though.” She weakly laughed, but Teeysal just shrugged his shoulders showing it was not big deal. Tuk couldn’t understand how the male could handle that harsh retribution. Her father hardly ever truly yelled at Tuk and the few times he did, she spent at least an hour crying about it. The last time it happened, Tuk had felt so guilty she spent hours weaving together an anklet for Jake. All was forgiven quickly and the na’vi male hadn’t taken it off since. The memory made her grip the necklace still hidden behind her back. 

“This is for you.” She thrust the woven material into the boy’s hands. Recovering from the slight shock, he took it in his hands and started to examine it. 

“What’s this?” Twirling it in his fingers he recognized the material as a thick choker woven tightly in an intricate design. Interspersed between the woven material were tiny beads, a dark blue shade. What really caught the Metkayina’s boy attention however were the hanging small green and yellow feathers around the base evenly spaced. He had never seen such materials on the island before. 

“An apology.” Tuk bit her bottom lip, observing the boy’s reaction closely. His turquoise fingers kept gently running over the feathers. “I know it’s kind of different. It’s a traditional Omatikaya necklace. I learned how to make them a long time ago.”

“You made this?” His large blue orbs finally strayed from the necklace, mouth parted in awe. 

“Yeah just with some of the materials I had lying around. The feathers are from an old top I used to wear as a kid but it was all I had. Grounding isn’t the most convenient for scavenging materials but then again I did have a lot of time on my hands. It’s ok if you don’t like it. I know it’s really different.” Tuk abruptly closed her mouth to stop from rambling more. 

“No no, Tuk, I love it!”

“Really?” Teeysal felt like his heart was going to burst free from his rib cage watching a small smile form on Tuk’s face. The Matkayina male felt a sense of relief slowly seeing Tuk’s usual attitude come forth again. 

"Of course, I can't believe you did all this for me." Teeysal's smile widened as he noticed the light blush dusting her cheeks. He had never seen Tuk so bashful before. "Help me put it on?" Her smile widened till it was ear to ear before rushing to help the male. Teeysal quickly took off the shell necklace he wore without a care. 

Due to the height difference, Tuk struggled on her tiptoes to reach the male's head to slip it over. Trying not to coo at the little jump and hops she was now attempting in order to reach, he ducked down to make it easier. Once the necklace was over his head and tightened around his neck snugly, she stepped back to admire it. 

"How do I look?" 

"Pretty." Her eyes widened comically shocked at her own words. Teeysal only found her embarrassment that much more entertaining as a laugh made it through his chest. "I me-mean heroic uh like a… mighty warrior. Yes, like a mighty warrior." 

Teeysal refrained himself from scooping the girl up right then and there and kissing her. There were few things more rare and cute than seeing Tuktirey lost for words. To know that he was the one that caused it sent a wave of pride through him. 

"Thank you, Tuk." She simply sent a shy smile back, looking up through her lashes. Suddenly that smile faltered and eyes widened. 

"I almost forgot, I need to get back before Neteyam gets home." Not ready for the girl to leave, Teeysal followed her frantic movements as she went to weave back through the trees. 

"Tuk wait!" They both looked down at his hand resting gently around her wrist. Coughing awkwardly, he let the girl go. "Am I going to see you again?"

"Do you still want to?" Sensing the hesitation in the question he was quick to reassure her.

"Yes of course, I missed you Tuk." Golden eyes shot up towards his and the blush darkened exponentially but there was no sign of embarrassment this time as she smiled so wide her eyes crinkled. 

"I missed you too!" He laughed as she practically shouted the words. Her giggles followed as she realized how loud she was being. 

"But are you sure you still want to hang out after my dad threatened you?" 

"Are you ok with it considering you got grounded for it last time?"

"Well yes."

"Then don't stop on my account, Tuk. I'm a big boy, I can handle it." Truth be told he was terrified of Jake but not enough to go without Tuk again. The last two weeks had been so dull without her vibrant energy and laugh. 

"Only if you're sure."

"Tuk!" Her brother's voice echoed from the beach. 

"I have to go!" She was bounding down the pathway before he could respond but his nerves settled as she quickly called out "see you later" before rounding the corner. 

Teeysal wore the necklace with pride in everything that he did. During moments of stall with the hunting part or meals with his family, his fingers would find themselves fiddling the soft feathers adorning the ends. A warm affection would stir in his soul as he thought of the giver of the necklace. The small girl with a fire and zest for life he was sure no one else could emulate.

It was difficult to find ways to be in the girl’s presence as she always had her brothers and father acting as shadows. Regardless, Teeysal was patient. He was careful to not disturb the Sully family and always kept a respectful manner about him whenever Jake Sully was anywhere in the vicinity. Despite these efforts, Teeysal always noticed the sharpness in Jake’s gaze when it would rest upon him.

On lucky days, Tuk would be completing duties on shore by the time he returned with the hunting party. His playful looks towards her would be returned with small smiles and a shake in her shoulders that told the male she was giggling. Although brief, those fleeting interactions would be fire that ignited his motivation to get through the day. Hope would blossom as he returned to the shore at the end of the day, eyes flicking across the beach in search of the golden-eyed girl.

The biggest trial of the day had recently been the presence of Lo’ak during their hunts. The experienced warrior had been chosen to help lead the younger party in their pursuits. A familia relaxed mood was established around the other young warriors and Lo’ak but never with him. Some days his punishment would be cold silent treatment. So persistent in pretending he didn’t exist, Teeysal wondered if his drowning would even stir the male. Other days, Teeysal was watched like a hawk by Lo’ak. Every misstep, hesitation, and shortcoming was pointed out and hissed at. His form was never good enough, breathing always too fast, and kills too predictable.

Teeysal kept a tight lid on his temper, sure that any act of defiance would put his already shaky relationship with Tuk into the ground. 

“Lo’ak no!” The female voice rang faintly across the island. Teeysal snapped his eyes up from deboning the fish to recognize Tsireya being lifted over Lo’ak’s shoulder as Tuk watched. She tried to aid the girl but it was useless as he threw his mate off the rock and into the water. 

Playfully in a crouching stance he swung around dramatically to reset his focus onto Tuk. She instantly hissed back but made a beeline the other way when her older brothers lunged forward. Screams and laughter could be heard even from a great distance as Lo’ak easily grabbed her around the middle and hoisted her up. Teeysal could just barely make out the girls giggled pleas before she was easily chucked through the air and into the ocean water. 

The corners of his lips tugged upwards at the display before him. Tuk and Tsireya were quick to team up and act out their revenge on the man. It took both to wrestle him into the water and when Lo’ak did fall he took the other girls down with him. 

“You really like to swim in dangerous waters bro.” Teeysal was snapped back into reality by his friend Ayte. Amused disapproval swam in his eyes as he shook his head. 

“What do you mean?”

“Going after the Sully girl. I thought the whole escapade a couple weeks ago would have knocked some sense into you.” Teeysal scoffed at his friend's assumptions, returning to the fish at hand.

“I have no idea what you are talking about.” A deadpan expression painted itself across Ayte’s face at the denial. 

“I’m not a skxawng like you. I see the way you look for her every time we return. A complete fool stumbling over his own feet.” Teeysal hissed playfully, shoving his friend’s shoulder, but even he knew there was no denying it. 

“And what if I do? What’s wrong with that?” 

“Nothing,” Ayte smirked back up at him, “If you’re aching to meet Eywa sooner than later.” 

Teeysal’s rolled his eyes at the insinuation.

“It’s not that bad, it will just take some time to get him to warm up to me.” The look Ayte sent showed he did not believe his friend in the slightest. 

“It’s amazing how a pretty face can get a man to believe such delusions.” He feigned a sad sigh, fake sympathy in his pout. Teeysal was used to his friend’s antiques. He always had a knack for being a tad dramatic. It didn’t matter what Ayte said. It would be ingenuine to himself to deny his feelings for Tuk out of fear. He had been raised to follow his instincts and find the path that Eywa had laid for him and in his heart Teeysal knew Tuk was part of that journey. 

Tuk held her breath as she slowly moved from her place in the hammock and across the marui. Her eyes never left Kiri’s silent sleeping figure as she continued to tip toe. It was not unusual for the girl to get up before the rest in order to fulfill her duties of feeding some of the ilus, but never before the sun had peaked out. 

Once she had changed clothes and made it out of the family home without a stir, Tuk jogged her way through the village. Nervous excitement began to bubble in her stomach again at the idea of finally spending time with Teeysal. The two had decided the only times they could possibly be with one another would have to be before the rest of the village woke up. They would leave before the sun came out and make it back in time for Tuk to feed the ilu and none would be the wiser. Or at least that was their theory. 

Teeysal shifted his weight between feet as he anxiously awaited for Tuk’s arrival, spear gun resting against his knee and an ilu on each side. He tried to hold the chuckle in as he spotted the girl bounding around the corner, fast enough to stumble over her feet once before closing the distance. The slight stumble did nothing to contain her enthusiasm. 

“Good morning!” She whispered.

“Good morning, Tuk. You ready to head out?” He went to place the spear gun out of the way but was stopped.

“Wait, maybe you could take that with?” He raised an eyebrow at the girl. “Ayte says that you are a really good hunter so I thought maybe you could teach me a little bit.” Teeysal was taken aback from the mention of his friend's name. When had Ayte been talking to Tuk about him? More importantly, what had the rascal said? 

“You want me to teach you?”

“Is that a problem?” Tuk nervously bit her bottom lip staring back at him.

“No, of course not. I just thought that maybe you would want one of your older brothers to show you. They have a good amount of years up on me when it comes to hunting.” Tuk’s shoulders sagged in relief before she gave a playful eye roll.

“They never show me any of that stuff. My parents would rather I stay close to the island and carry out duties there instead. Just like I told you, Neteyam hasn’t kept to his promise of teaching me jumps. If I ask, they will only find some excuse not to.” Teeysal could tell Tuk was patient with her family by the light tone she carried. There was always a fond playfulness to the words even if their actions truly limited her freedom. Perhaps it was this thought that had Teeysal picking up the spear gun and leading them out towards good hunting grounds. 

Tuk was a quick and eager learner. She inhaled every instruction and advice he gave and within no time she had speared her first fish. Dragging the fish back to the water’s surface, Tuk went to triumphantly raise it above her head. Consequently this pushed her head underwater and prompted Teeysal to quickly take the large fish off her hands. Loud laughter echoed across into the horizon when she surfaced once more with a huge smile. 

“He’s huge!” She squealed in delight.

“Yeah so big you can barely carry it.” He laughed back from his ilu while securing the fish. Tuk playfully stuck her tongue back at him before a devious expression overtook her face. Confused by the look, Teeysal was surprised to turn around from doing the knot to find Tuk nowhere in sight but ilu left behind. 

With a gasp Teeysal went to detach the hand swinging his leg over his head from the side, but it was too late. A mouthful of saltwater awaited him as he clumsily fell off the ilu and into the water. Eyes opening underwater, he spotted Tuk smiling gleefully back at him, eyes dancing with amusement. 

Always up for a challenge he started to swim towards the girl and plot his revenge. He was too late however, as Tuk bonded and jetted off with the ilu in one quick motion. Teeysal followed suit. 

‘Catch me if you can’ She signed, grinning over one shoulder. 

The two swerved through the clear water as the sun began to rise. Teeysal had the upper hand as he perfected his form in order to reduce drag in the water. Spotting a coral tunnel, Teeysal veered for it as Tuk swam over. The girl had no chance as he jetted out of the tunnel and straight up at them. She went to turn sharply to the left by Teeysal was quick to swim circles around them, effectively trapping them. 

Tuk’s nose scrunched as she shook her head at the boy. A cocky grin stretched across his face at the look. Feeling impulsive from the adrenaline rush, his arm swiped out to drag the girl off the ilu and plant her hand on his shoulder before they shot straight up. 

The water crashed and rippled around them as they broke the waterline into an arching jump. Tuk found a better grip repositioning one arm to wrap under his and cling up at the shoulder. Midair, there was a split second where the two could admire the sunrise painting the clouds before the pressure and blow of water broke the trance. On instinct Teeysal’s hand reached back to grab Tuk’s knee and keep her from being swept away by the impact. 

Once in the open air again, Tuk paid no mind to their closeness as she continued to babble on excitedly. 

“You cheater, Teeysal!” Her laughter broke up the feigned angry words as she pushed his shoulder again. 

“Oh did I? I don’t think attacking from behind is quite fair either.” Looking over his shoulder he watched as the girl’s shoulders shook with laughter. The same beautiful laugh he could recognize a mile away.  

“I can’t be held responsible for what I do once provoked.” The orange glow of the sunrise cascaded over the Tuk’s dark blue skin, bathed in sunlight. His train of thought was interrupted by the girl diving into the water in order to swim to the abandoned ilu. 

“Race you back!” The words barely carried across the wind before Tuk was gone underneath the water. Huffing out a laugh, the male shook his head fondly before shooting out after the girl. 

Thus began their daily ritual. Both Na’vi waking up before the crack of dawn to hunt, practice jumps, or talk about nothing and everything on the closest island they could find. Tuk would rub the sleep out of her eyes every morning before sneakily creeping through the village, terrified of being caught. However, these worries would be a distant memory every time she saw the handsome male smiling back at her, waiting for another couple hours of adventure. 

It was by far the most rebellious thing Tuk had ever done but the idea of never seeing Teeysal again was unbearable. At the end of the day she found this heartbreak outweighed her fear of her father’s wrath.  

Teeysal twitched under his mother’s fingers as she continued to paint intricate lines along his rips in preparation for the festival. She lightly swatted the back of his head for squirming once again. For the festival he was required to wear traditional Metkayina attire so the Omatikayan necklace was put to the side for the night. The boy was slightly startled to see how uneasy he felt without the necklace in place. He had become accustomed to the heavy weight against his neck and the lovely reminder it was of Tuk. 

Strong black lines of detailed symbols and patterns traveled up his sides and rib cage till dispersing along his collarbone and shoulders. Tuk was quick to notice the imagery along Teeysal’s turquoise skin as she peeked into the gigantic marui set for the festival. The male looked so decadent and strong standing there in his traditional wear and it made Tuk’s body jitter with nerves. 

The marui was bustling with Na’vi, each adorned with carefully crafted clothing from jewelry to headpieces. Tuk herself was wearing a top of light purple shells and pearls that had so many straps it took the help of her sister to figure out how to get it on. Her arms felt heavy with attached cascading nets of feathers meant to represent wings for their dance. Neytiri had pulled her hair into swerving tight braids against her head that eventually gave way to long waves that freely flowed down her back. What excited Tuk the most though were the beautiful small flowers painted along her skin, scattering along her jaw to belly button. 

The Sully family had been requested to perform a traditional Omatikayan dance as a way of celebrating the differences in clan cultures and how they had come together in harmony. Jake and Neteyam were less thrilled about the dance than the rest of the family. The two had never been agile dancers and neither were ready to share that fact with the rest of the clan. Lo’ak on the other hand had a tendency to find too much amusement in the dance, resulting in the male goofing off till it had created Na’vi dominos. Needless to say, it had taken the family weeks to get the number together. Regardless of these struggles, Neytiri felt very passionate about representing her culture so the subject was not up for debate, not even for her father who had gently tried to talk her out of it several times. 

Although originally ecstatic to perform the dance, Tuk now felt on the edge of nauseous thinking about performing in front of Teeysal. The act felt incredibly vulnerable, especially with her meddlesome brothers bound to screw it up. Her stomach twisted into knots at the thought of reinacting the domino disaster with her family in front of Teeysal. 

“You alright?” Kiri placed a gentle hand on the girl’s shoulder, studying the worried expression carefully. 

“Kiri, I don’t think I can do this. Dad was right, we should have said no.” Kiri could feel the anxiety coming from Tuk in waves. So unusual for a girl that usually ran around without a care in the world. 

“No he wasn’t Tuk. The men in our family are just dramatic cry babies, that’s all.” Kiri was surprised to find not even a giggle come out of Tuk’s mouth at the comment. 

“Everyone is going to be watching, it’s too much pressure!” Tuk’s head looked behind once more at the crowds through the gap at the entrance and this time Kiri’s gaze followed. Realization struck when she noticed what, or rather who, her little sister was looking at. She tried to keep a coo in at the thought of Tuk’s little crush, her baby sister interested in romance. Regardless of what her brothers and father thought, Kiri was always an advocate of personal choice so she paid no mind to the suspicious events that had occurred between the two. 

“Who are you and what have you done with my little sister?” Kiri’s hands rested on her hips, raising an eyebrow down at the shorter girl.

“What?”

“The Tuk I know would never care about what others think of her, especially when it comes to dancing.” A small smile crept twitched at the corner of Tuk’s lips. Kiri bent her knees slightly in order to be eye level with the younger girl. “You are the most beautiful dancer I know. If the others can not see that obvious fact then they are blind skxawngs that do not deserve the pleasure of watching you dance.” Their eyes connected in a soft gaze full of mutual adoration and love for one another. A sisterly bond that had been grown and nurtured throughout the years with care. 

“Thank Kiri.” Tuk’s quiet voice whispered before embracing her older sister tightly. Kiri immediately returned the affection with a fond smile, taking one more glance at the young male her sister had been so enraptured with.

“Anytime.” She could feel her younger sister sigh into the embrace as her muscles started to relax. “Besides,” Kiri continued while pulling away to face Tuk, “When Neteyam falls over his two left feet, everyone will be staring at him, not you.” 

Tuk laughed at that, ears already perking back up into a happier state. From around the corner the rest of the Sully family came to gather and prepare for the performance. She tried not to giggle as she noticed the boys picking uncomfortably at the excessive jewelry and paint covering their bodies. Her dad in particular looked like he was about to topple over with the giant bird beak head piece atop his hair. She smiled at Aonung giving Neteyam one last good luck kiss before disappearing into the marui with the rest of the clan.

“Please say this is the only time we are doing this.” Neteyam sighed, never the type to show off in front of a crowd. Neytiri rolled her eyes at her grown son before ignoring his comment and getting everyone into their places. 

Teeysal’s ears perked up in interest as he heard the Olo’eyktan announce the Sully’s dance number. Tuk had never mentioned it before but he shoved the thought away, instead focusing on the fact that he would get to see her tonight after all. The fire crackled loudly as the clan members took their seats on the ground around, bunched together.

The loud drums began to play in earnest, effectively sending vibrations through the ground. As the Sully’s emerged in formation, his eyes strained till they could spot the small girl. There was great contrast in their movements both on an individual and group scale. The girls were graceful and smooth in their movement, imitating the soaring of a bird. The men moved more abruptly and with greater force and sharper jabs. It was obvious to Teeysal that Jake and Neteyam were not as coordinated. Neteyam’s lips could be seen quietly keeping count while Jake’s head would occasionally move from side to side to see what the others were doing and continue to imitate them. Lo’ak on the other hand completely embraced his role with a cocky smile and boisterous movements. 

His eyes did not stay with them for long as he took in the sight of Tuk. Her decadent outfit matched her colorful personality as the bright feathers weaved with each swing of her arms. Teeysal was instantly captivated by her smooth movements, balancing on only the balls of her feet. His awe only increased as she would incrementally give grand leaps into the air. She moved with a weightlessness that Teeysal had only ever experienced in the water.

As the pace picked up the clan members began to clap along quickly. At certain points Tuk would end up in the front to perform quick movements with her feet that transitioned into leaps and bends that made his own spine hurt watching it. He was fixated on the beaming smile that never strayed from her face. It was the same expression she wore when gliding through the water among the fishes, completely free without a care. 

The crowd became more excited as the family began to move in unison. Yips and yells rang through the room encouragingly. Lo’ak moved to the front for his moment and practically threw his shoulder out trying to perform an intricate flip. From the look on Neytiri’s face, he could tell that was not part of the choreography, but the male was unfazed. The hooting and hollering from other men in the village fed the older brother as he continued to yip and yell, courageously putting his entire being into the dance. The crowd let out loud calls and cheers as the family finally ended in formation, breathing heavily. 

Tuk’s grin was from ear to ear as her eyes switched back and forth among the crowd. For a second they landed on Teeysal. He let out his own encouraging cry in response, jesting the crowd to continue cheering. That eye crinkling smile returned to her face, the one Teeysal loved so much. 

Other groups replaced the family on stage as the crowd began to eat the large seafood feast. The Sully family sat on the other side of the Marui but Teeysal was still able to exchange glances with Tuk from behind her father’s back. After several male groups performed with thundering voices and stomping feet, Tuk sneakily signed a question to the boy across the room.

‘Aren’t you going to dance?’ Teeysal’s face scrunched up in distaste, quickly shaking his head from side to side. 

‘It’s best for everyone that I don’t.’ 

Tuk rolled her eyes at the response before signing back, ‘You are no fun.’ Teeysal tried to suppress a laugh at that but nothing could stop the grin that spread across his face. 

When the feast was done the floor opened up for all clan members to dance. The marui was bustling with life as Na’vi of every age and size participated, whether through dance or song. The drums and cries were loud enough to be felt in one’s chest. Tuk found that even Neteyam was pulled to the dance floor by Aonung. Looking around she saw that all of her other family members had split off into pairs or groups, leaving her alone on the sidelines. 

Teeysal caught sight of the girl acting as a wallflower and his heart sank slightly. With no dancing capabilities whatsoever and an ominous threat around pursuing the girl, Teeysal still found his feet carrying him across the room towards Tuk. Logic was out the window as his heart spoke for him, claiming there was no way he could possibly leave her alone and outside of the festivities. 

“I thought you said you don’t dance.” 

“Well, you look like you need a partner and who am I to leave a damsel in distress.” Tuk smiled back at the cheeky grin, completely forgetting about the others around as she took his hand. 

It quickly became clear what little dance experience Teeysal had but regardless the boy did everything he could to engage with Tuk in the ways he knew how. Her laughter at his stumbling steps and moves made the embarrassment all worth it. She flitted around the male, light as air before pulling him by the arm closer. She tried to guide him through different simple steps but only succeeded in making the pair laugh uncontrollably as his forced movements almost took them both down to the ground. 

“If you needed a partner, Tuk, all you had to do was ask.” Neteyam’s voice from behind slightly startled the girl as she whipped around to see him glaring at Teeysal. The two dropped hands immediately. Looking past Neteyam, she could also see Lo’ak looking their way with a curious frown. 

“That’s ok, Nete. You are already dancing with Aonung. Teeysal was nice enough to keep me company. I’m fine.” She put on her most convincing smile, hoping that playing it off would somehow magically get her brother to forget their father’s distaste for Teeysal. 

“I really don’t mind.” Teeysal jumped in but the narrowing of Neteyam’s eyes at the boy showed the pair that the comment was not well received. 

“Yeah of course you don’t.” Tuk found herself grateful for her oldest brother’s calmer attitude as he forgoed making a huge scene and instead ended things by dragging her to go dance with Aonung and him. Tuk, however, didn’t miss the strange look that her father sent Neteyam’s way.

“Still with us kiddo?” Jake’s concerned voice broke through Tuk’s consciousness, stirring her back awake. Blink abruptly her mind finally came back into focus to remind her of the surroundings. A knife was still in her hand against the wooden cutting board. 

“Sorry, dozed off a little.” Her eyes watered as she held in another yawn.

“You’ve been really tired the past few days, babygirl. Are you feeling alright?” Tuk tried to shy away from her father’s hand placed against her forehead but it was no use. 

“It’s nothing, dad. I’ve just been having a little too much fun I guess. Kiri took me outside the reef today so I’m a little tired.” Jake nodded but Tuk could tell from his expression that he was not convinced. 

“Well you should get to bed earlier tonight.” He concluded, as usual leaving no room for argument. Tuk smiled with a nod but felt a knot twisting in her stomach, knowing that the real reason she was so exhausted was from waking up before dawn to be with Teeysal. She knew that one wrong move could expose them both. 

That night, Tuk thrashed against the light woven blanket that had been tossed on her. Vivid images swirled through her head at a terrorizing pace. Flashes of blood, water, and gunsmoke all seemed too familiar as her dreams pulled from direct memories. Or rather, one memory in particular. 

A sweat broke out along her striped skin as she desperately tried tugging at those weird handcuffs still attached to the ship railing. Kiri was held just around the corner by the strange looking Avatar and nothing was stopping the ship from sinking to the bottom of the ocean. Metal creaked with an eeriness and everything inside the girl screamed to run, fight, swim. Blood began to run along her wrists as she yanked with all her strength. 

Her family was in trouble. Kiri was in danger. There was no telling what the scary man would do to her only sister and Tuk knew that someone needed to do something fast. Gunshots echoed throughout the ship along with cries of pain from who, Tuk didn’t know. Where was her father? Her mother? 

Harder and harder she tugged.

Must get out.

Must help them. 

Have to fight, need to fight.

The plastic dug in but she became numb to the pain. 

Anxiety skyrocketed to a new level and all of a sudden there was no air left. Only dense water pressed against her from all sides as she was encased in the metal ship. She was trapped. No way in. No way out. No more air left to breathe. 

“TUKTIREY!” Tuk jolted forward at the shout, air leaving her lungs in anxious pants. Her father sat above her, hands holding her biceps to shake the girl out of the nightmare. Instantly, tears gushed down her cheeks.

“Hey shhhh shhh babygirl, it’s alright.” Jake quickly gathered the small girl in his arms, cradling her as he did when Tuk was only a small child. Sob wracked through her throat, making it hard to breathe. “Don’t cry baby, I’ve got you. Daddy’s here.” 

“I-I can’t b-bre..”

“Calm down, try to breathe. Take deep breaths with me. In….and out. In…and out. There you go. Keep breathing.” Her ear was pressed fondly to Jake’s heart and Tuk found comfort in the mighty heartbeat that drumbed on consistently. Her breathing became tied to that steady beating until it slowed to a normal pace. Gentle fingers stroked through her loose hair as he rocked them back and forth. 

A comforting silence fell over the pair, only interrupted by the occasional shushing from Jake as the tears continued to wet her cheeks and small hiccups escaped from her mouth. Tuk tried to focus on the warmth she felt from her father’s loving embrace instead of the images from her nightmare. 

“I-I had a dream a-about that d-day.” The words struggled to come out through the little hiccups, but Jake understood. This was not the first time Tuk had experienced these nightmares after that battle. Jake himself had his own nightmares surrounding that day, but he was used to waking up in sweats after all that he went through in the war. 

“I know baby, I know.” His large palm laid against her forehead to feel for a temperature. He silently cursed as he felt the heat radiating from the spot. “You are alright now, I’ve got you.” Jake reminded the girl. 

“I know.” She sniffled pathetically. 

It tore Jake apart to see how that close call had affected his youngest daughter. His whole family had suffered from the experience. The fear that they had felt at almost losing each other to the Sky People. Poor Tuk had expressed several times guilt for not being able to help. She had gone back for Kiri, only to be tied up again on a sinking ship. Jake couldn’t understand how the girl could feel so awful when she had courageously upheld their family motto in the face of danger. Sullys stick together. 

“You know I would never let anything hurt you, right?” Tuk nodded against his chest, still sniffling. “I’m always going to be here for you. I will always protect you.” Tuk snuggled closer to her father as her heart rate slowed. 

When Neytiri popped her head into the room, Jake informed her quietly of the girl’s state. Tuk was back asleep in the man’s arms as the two parents discussed what to do about her fever. After carefully applying some healing ointment to her wrists and forehead, the two laid their youngest daughter between them to sleep. Their golden eyes met one another and Jake placed a loving kiss along Neytiri’s hand, thanking Eywa they were still here together after all their trials. 

[strangertheories]

What would be your ideal “Will having powers” outcome for season 5?

I don't really like any of the theories about him being in the lab as a kid and repressing those memories because I like the idea of him being a random kid kind of thrust into power rather than being born with it. I'd like it if it was based on his whole hiding thing from S1 where he manifested the Upside Down into Hawkins and/or blipped himself there subconsciously to escape the demogorgon. I like the idea that it's an accidental coping mechanism more than a super power if that makes any sense. Him blipping himself to the Upside Down due to trauma could also relate to S2 and his PTSD, although I also like the idea that the blips were because of his mental link to Vecna (perhaps via tentacle).

In terms of a reveal of this, I imagine it would be Vecna in S5 trying to get Will to join him or at least mess him up mentally where he'd have some sort of "we're more alike than you think, William" reveal, showing that Will was actually holding a lot of repressed power inside of him. And then Vecna could give him a whole spiel like he did to young Eleven about society not being able to handle people who are different and powerful and how great he and Will could be together. We could see clips of the past with Henry and Will parallels, the mind flayer and Will saying the mind flayer wanted to kill everyone except for him before he was even flayed. Remember, they did say S5 is based off of a scrapped S2 concept and that Will was at the center of it.

However, after this reveal Will would instead reject Vecna because Will is not like Vecna. Vecna became bitter because of societal rejection but Will through his love (not just romantic) and kindness was able to accept himself regardless of what others thought and try to use his feelings for good. Would Vecna have given a crying girl his toy even though he couldn't afford a new one? Would he have made a painting for someone but lied about who commissioned it because he thought it would make them happy? No way. Because the parallels between Will and Vecna were not because they're alike; it's because Will is the opposite of Vecna. (@paladin-n-cleric has a brilliant post on that if I recall correctly).

At the end of the series, Will would help defeat Vecna but instead of destroying the Upside Down or himself, I like the idea that Will frees the Upside Down. The Upside Down being frozen in the past represents how Will is stuck in the past and in his childhood. However, instead of destroying the parts of himself he doesn't like such as his powers and his links to the Upside Down, he's able to reclaim them for good. I kind of like the idea of him being the peace keeper of the Upside Down but I also like the idea that after he comes out and/or uses his powers, the Upside Down becomes either the present or as it was before Will; an empty abyss where creatures are able to roam freely and separately from our world. I say and/or because this is could be a gay metaphor or a childhood trauma metaphor or both.

Don't know if this makes sense, thanks for the ask anon (:

[compneuropapers]

Interesting Papers for Week 24, 2024

Dissociable online integration processes in visual working memory. Balaban, H., Drew, T., & Luria, R. (2023). Cerebral Cortex, 33(23), 11420–11430.

Interactions between specialized gain control mechanisms in olfactory processing. Barth-Maron, A., D’Alessandro, I., & Wilson, R. I. (2023). Current Biology, 33(23), 5109-5120.e7.

Beyond spiking networks: The computational advantages of dendritic amplification and input segregation. Capone, C., Lupo, C., Muratore, P., & Paolucci, P. S. (2023). Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences, 120(49), e2220743120.

Adaptive oscillators support Bayesian prediction in temporal processing. Doelling, K. B., Arnal, L. H., & Assaneo, M. F. (2023). PLOS Computational Biology, 19(11), e1011669.

Targeted V1 comodulation supports task-adaptive sensory decisions. Haimerl, C., Ruff, D. A., Cohen, M. R., Savin, C., & Simoncelli, E. P. (2023). Nature Communications, 14, 7879.

Meta-reinforcement learning via orbitofrontal cortex. Hattori, R., Hedrick, N. G., Jain, A., Chen, S., You, H., Hattori, M., … Komiyama, T. (2023). Nature Neuroscience, 26(12), 2182–2191.

Sensory cortical ensembles exhibit differential coupling to ripples in distinct hippocampal subregions. Jeong, H., Namboodiri, V. M. K., Jung, M. W., & Andermann, M. L. (2023). Current Biology, 33(23), 5185-5198.e4.

Corrective feedback guides human perceptual decision-making by informing about the world state rather than rewarding its choice. Lee, H.-J., Lee, H., Lim, C. Y., Rhim, I., & Lee, S.-H. (2023). PLOS Biology, 21(11), e3002373.

Alpha oscillations encode Bayesian belief updating underlying attentional allocation in dynamic environments. Li, S., Seger, C. A., Zhang, J., Liu, M., Dong, W., Liu, W., & Chen, Q. (2023). NeuroImage, 284, 120464.

Item-specific neural representations during human sleep support long-term memory. Liu, J., Xia, T., Chen, D., Yao, Z., Zhu, M., Antony, J. W., … Hu, X. (2023). PLOS Biology, 21(11), e3002399.

Behavioral read-out from population value signals in primate orbitofrontal cortex. McGinty, V. B., & Lupkin, S. M. (2023). Nature Neuroscience, 26(12), 2203–2212.

Catecholaminergic neuromodulation and selective attention jointly shape perceptual decision-making. Nuiten, S. A., de Gee, J. W., Zantvoord, J. B., Fahrenfort, J. J., & van Gaal, S. (2023). eLife, 12, e87022.3.

Neural patterns differentiate traumatic from sad autobiographical memories in PTSD. Perl, O., Duek, O., Kulkarni, K. R., Gordon, C., Krystal, J. H., Levy, I., … Schiller, D. (2023). Nature Neuroscience, 26(12), 2226–2236.

Neural substrates of parallel devaluation-sensitive and devaluation-insensitive Pavlovian learning in humans. Pool, E. R., Pauli, W. M., Cross, L., & O’Doherty, J. P. (2023). Nature Communications, 14, 8057.

Age-related dysregulation of homeostatic control in neuronal microcircuits. Radulescu, C. I., Doostdar, N., Zabouri, N., Melgosa-Ecenarro, L., Wang, X., Sadeh, S., … Barnes, S. J. (2023). Nature Neuroscience, 26(12), 2158–2170.

Topological analysis of sharp-wave ripple waveforms reveals input mechanisms behind feature variations. Sebastian, E. R., Quintanilla, J. P., Sánchez-Aguilera, A., Esparza, J., Cid, E., & de la Prida, L. M. (2023). Nature Neuroscience, 26(12), 2171–2181.

Parietal cortical alpha/beta suppression during prospective memory retrieval. Villafane Barraza, V., Voegtle, A., de Matos Mansur, B., Reichert, C., Nasuto, S. J., & Sweeney-Reed, C. M. (2023). Cerebral Cortex, 33(23), 11235–11246.

Modeling the diverse effects of divisive normalization on noise correlations. Weiss, O., Bounds, H. A., Adesnik, H., & Coen-Cagli, R. (2023). PLOS Computational Biology, 19(11), e1011667.

Melanopsin enhances image persistence. Woelders, T., Allen, A. E., & Lucas, R. J. (2023). Current Biology, 33(23), 5048-5056.e4.

A corticoamygdalar pathway controls reward devaluation and depression using dynamic inhibition code. Yuan, Z., Qi, Z., Wang, R., Cui, Y., An, S., Wu, G., … Luo, M. (2023). Neuron, 111(23), 3837-3853.e5.

[fatheroffdensen]

mundane dethklok headcanons for the soul (no aotd spoilers!)

(as previously stated in some rb tags) i think pickles never even tried to get his license and he just drives illegally. he probably learned to drive + fix shitboxes on his own because when you're a runaway 14 yr old in the midwest there isn't a lot to do besides having shotgunning contests with the local mechanics

nathan cannot parallel park and he took his driving test 10 times before he just stared down the instructor silently until they let him pass

i also think that nathan goes thru phases of literally not eating/drinking anything that isn't doritos, chocolate milk, and beer and after a few weeks someone has to remind him that vegetables exist so he doesn't die. like yea he enjoys fancy food and wine and all that rich people shit, but obviously cool ranch doritos and chocolate milk is the best thing a death metal vocalist can eat

murderface can't cook per se but he can improve a box of kraft mac n cheese into the best, sluttiest, most ridiculously delicious meal you've ever had. hot dogs, 5 different types of cheese, so much butter, the whole 9 yards of mac n cheese magic

i think toki would enjoy weed! him and murderface become regulars at the dispensary and are smoke buddies together. sure dethklok does ALL drugs but toki with medical weed for all the ptsd to help him relax? it makes sense to me :)

also post doomstar if AOTD didn't happen i would love toki to have an emotional support animal for his ptsd. probably a cat.

skwisgaar hates dogs because they remind him of the various times he was chased by actual wolves in rural sweden as a kid, but sometimes small and affectionate dogs like corgis can manage to melt his 'icy' heart just a bit (his heart isnt actually icy but we all know that)

after extended stress, pickles gets very agitated and explosive, so sometimes murderface will pick a fight with some random dude to give pickles a chance to vent out his anger by beating someone tf up. also because murderface thinks its hilarious because pickles can kick the shit out of like 6'3'' bodybuilders with the sheer force of his little-guy-rage

charles is a fan of kate bush, madonna, cyndi lauper, cher, just a huge amount of artists that he would probably be made fun of for liking. but very very rarely he'll find himself at (maybe a gay) bar where no one recognizes him, and he becomes the life of the party when girly 80s pop comes on. maybe he can even bust down some kinda old school but actually very skilled 80s ass dance moves..

[lunarsands]

ALSMP Fanfic: Who’s The Unfairest Of Us All

Characters: actual!angel!Sausage, starborne!Scott, cursed!angel!Myth, human!Smajor, goddess!PearlescentMoon

Relationships: MythicalSausage/Scott Smajor

Tags: fictional religion, It’s the return of: Crossover between two Afterlife fic universes and What If The In-Love Versions Met The Murderous Versions?

WARNINGS: Violence, Injury, Bleeding, PTSD, threats of death, and well yes actual (temporary) death this time

Summary: Scott and Sausage find themselves transported to the parallel universe of their rivalrous versions, and end up stumbling across Myth and Smajor in their final sorry states. Myth, however, doesn’t want anyone to feel sorry for him, so Sausage has a fight on his hands far unlike the last one.

Sequel to Mirror Mirror, Break Our Fall. Takes place sometime after the events of Hellbent and Wherever These Flowers May Grow.

(Also available on Ao3!)

[A/N: I had zero plans to make a sequel to Mirror Mirror but sometimes when you’re doing some cathartic writing an idea emerges that is too good to pass up. So here we are: the crossover is now canon to both universes, barring mentions in the Soul Liminality 2: I Would Die For You universe. I did kind of have a feeling I shouldn’t have labeled Soul Liminality (1) as Complete…]

---

“Have a nice trip around the skies, my starlight,” Sausage said, giving Scott a peck on the cheek as they stood amid the drifting motes of gold emitted by the dark blue flowers in the garden. Right after dusk was their favorite time to pause and have a few minutes between just the two of them, when Sausage’s daily duties had ended and Scott’s nightly work was about to begin.

“Have a good night,” Scott replied, smiling softly in return. “I’ll see you in the morn— Or, not? Sausage,” he questioned with a gently chiding tone, “Were you ignoring a summons just to say goodbye? That’s sweet and all, but you could simply say it right away then go to Pearl.”

“I… wasn’t? What do you mean?”

“You’re glowing.”

Sausage gave a sappy grin. “Well, that’s because I’m so happy to be with you right now.”

“No, I mean literally glowing! Don’t you feel that??”

Sausage looked down at himself at the same time that Scott grabbed him by the arm. His body was limned in silvery light, reminiscent of when Pearl had turned him into a flame to travel out of the celestial realm into the mortal world. “W-Wait, I. I don’t know what’s happening!”

“So, it’s not Pearl?” Scott hastily looked around in case they managed to summon her for an explanation.

“No, I don’t hear anything. Wait…you’re glowing, too. And not like normal.”

Scott checked his own arms. The new glow outshined the violet sparkles on his skin. Then he felt a tug like when he was passing the edge of a planet’s gravitational field. He gripped Sausage tighter as the seraph’s form wavered into that flamelike shape from the last time they had left home. “Don’t let go of me!”

Sausage responded by clasping Scott in a half-hug with his free arm and wrapping his wings around the starborne as the light around both of them flared even brighter.

.

When the light faded out, they found themselves standing in complete darkness; even the glittering of Scott’s skin and the tiny constellation around his head were engulfed by it. Sausage cautiously folded his wings back but kept a hand on Scott so they stayed together. He whispered, “Where are we?”

“Somewhere underground. Very far underground.”

“How do you know? And how come you’re not sparkling like usual?”

“My powers have been cut off. No sky, no starlight – not even any radiating from me. The further down, the weaker I get. So, we’re… close to bedrock by my reckoning.”

“Oh… That makes sense, but isn’t great news.” Sausage went quiet, then made a sound like he was straining to do something. “Um, nope. My holy aura isn’t working, either. Is this magical darkness?”

“Both maybe. I still wouldn’t have much power underground, even if this was only magic.”

“Let me try something else.” This time the blackness was pierced by a sliver of pale yellow light as he pulled his flaming sword from thin air. It was unnervingly dim, however. “Well, it’s something.” Sausage held the sword up high to get a glimpse of their surroundings, although he maintained a grip on Scott’s hand for the moment.

They appeared to be in a cave made of deepslate, netherbrick, and blackstone. Scott frowned, puzzled. “That’s not normal. I’m pretty sure I could also tell if we were in the Nether.”

“Let’s… have a look around,” Sausage said, tone cautious. “There has to be more caves and tunnels somewhere, and there’s got to be a way up to the surface. The sooner we get you out to open sky, the better.”

Scott chuckled. “Don’t count me out completely. Can you summon more than one sword at a time? I can still use a weapon, it doesn’t have to be my own.”

“You know, I never really thought to try!” Sausage handed the flaming sword to Scott; as soon as it cleared his fingers, the flames disappeared, but the sword itself remained solid. Stuck in total darkness again, Sausage held his arm up high to not potentially pull out another sword right in front of Scott’s face.

What he pulled out of the air instead was a wedge-shaped shield dusted in muted flames. It featured a pair of simplified feathered wings and a sunflower in the middle toward the top. “Huh! Learn something new every day! It never occurred to me that would happen!” He added in a mutter, “No one ever told me, either.”

“You’re too busy using your own body as a shield,” Scott pointed out with another chuckle.

“My swordsmanship is so good I don’t need one – come on, now!”

“All right, then. We’ll switch. You get the flaming sword, and run offense, I’ll take the shield and be defense.” As the items changed hands, the flames along the shield went out while the sword flared back up, yet still not as bright as they should have been. Scott settled the shield against his forearm, hefting it a few times to get a sense of its weight, then joined Sausage in checking along the walls for openings or the sound of bats that could lead them to another cave.

~*~

Smajor lazily played floor hockey with the clock Myth had so generously given him after he had whined long enough about at least letting him know what time it was, if not what day. Of course, it did immediately break when Myth dropped it between the bars of the window in the iron door, but it gave Smajor something to do other than stare up at the ceiling or occasionally toss the discarded arm guard, which Myth had once used to keep a tally of Smajor’s deaths, against the door just to hear it clang.

He had no idea what Myth was doing with his time. He always seemed to just be sitting out there, cloaked in his ichor-soaked wings and staring at a soul lantern on the barely discernible table beside a wall of sculk. The entire chamber that the cell was situated in seemed to be made entirely of sculk. He figured that was intentional so Myth could mislead him into believing they were where a Warden could spawn, discouraging Smajor from trying to escape since a Warden could effortlessly pummel him when he had absolutely nothing to use to try to get away from it. However, he had never heard a shrieker or a sensor go off despite the clangs and scrapes, and he was certain he was being loud enough to trigger one if they existed nearby.

Smajor had also entertained the thought of throwing the clock at Myth to make a noise, but he both didn’t want to lose it nor risk Myth deciding to alleviate boredom by taking the sword that was lying beside the lantern and running him through a few dozen times.

It's not like there was any danger of the helpless Smajor suddenly reviving with new powers. But he was glad Myth hadn’t made it a hobby to kill him on a regular basis just for the fun of it. He also wouldn’t admit that he was glad the clock partially worked – ticking quietly every so often, but never changing time, as if the mechanism that counted the seconds was still trying to do its job.

With a sigh, he lightly whacked the clock with the side of his foot so that it slid under the bed. Then he turned to the door and stuck his arms out between the bars, letting them hang down as he leaned on the door. There was Myth, only visible by the light of the blue lantern and flickers of sculk, jet black wings held partially unfolded and moving ever-so-slightly as the cursed angel breathed.

Unable to see Myth’s face at that angle, Smajor wasn’t sure if he was asleep or not. Well, he wasn’t sure if he ever actually slept at all, but since he himself fell asleep regularly, those were the times he couldn’t exactly check to find out.

He debated whether to try counting the specks of pulsing turquoise in the wall again. Then something new caught his eye. Somewhere on the far end of the chamber seemed to be something bright that was reflecting off of… whatever was over there. He couldn’t see that far in the rest of the darkness to be sure. “Hey, what’s that?”

Myth shifted but didn’t turn. “Oh, stop. That didn’t work the first two hundred times, it isn’t going to work now.”

“No, I’m serious! There’s a – a light! Yeah, it’s a light, I’m pretty sure. There’s never anything else bright down here. You should know that.”

Myth grunted in annoyance and continued to not look.

“Have you gone blind, too?” Smajor made a noise of disgust. “Not that it would surprise me if you’re going off some freakish angel senses at this point. I—” His breath caught in his throat. He recognized that particular color and type of flickering light. He swore and backed away from the bars. “Hey, uh. You don’t think one of your brethren would come to check on how good of a job you’re doing keeping me locked up, do you?”

Myth finally moved to stand up, hands leaning on the table. “What nonsense are you on about? It’s probably some idiot spelunker who just made the worst mistake of their life by managing to find their way down here.”

Smajor edged forward enough to see Myth start to move away toward the other end of the chamber. He backed up again, then cast his gaze around the tiny, obsidian-lined cell. He snatched up the meager piece of armor laying on the floor and slipped it on. It didn’t fit too well, but it could serve as some shred of defense.

~*~

As Sausage and Scott entered a spacious cavern, they felt a little more hope that one of the shelves at the higher reaches would contain a passage leading upwards. So far, the tunnels and caves had been mostly flat and sealed on top.

Sausage pointed between two dripstone pillars toward a large lake. A lavafall higher up lent some light to the far side of the water, but was barely enough to reach the section they stood in. He whispered, “Someone has been down here, at one time anyway.” They saw several discarded buckets on the shore of the lake.

“Maybe someone collecting obsidian,” Scott suggested, also keeping his voice quiet.

“They don’t seem to have left a trail out of there, unfortunately.”

“That might mean they flew in. Which means they also flew out. Let’s look around over here more, just in case, then figure out how to get over there. Although this does seem to be another dead end…”

“And that’s a lot of sculk,” Sausage griped. “I don’t see any sensors anywhere yet, but they could be on the other side. I’m not particularly interested in trying to fight a Warden without knowing if there’s another exit nearby. I mean, we could hide out up top until it goes away, but we might trigger another one when we come back down to, uh. Retrace our steps.”

“We’ll have to check eventually,” Scott whispered back. “I think the question is whether you go up alone or take me with you. …Wait, hold on – I think there’s a passage over there.” He was sneaking closer to the wall of sculk that had spread nearly halfway across the floor.

Sausage stood still for a second, muttering, “Yeah, um, I don’t think going through more sculk is going to lead out.” He tiptoed after him anyway, holding his sword up to give Scott more light, although he even more reluctantly followed him into the passageway.

…Right up until the starborne stopped and uttered a string of awkward noises. “Um. Hehn. Uh. Sorry, I don’t think we’re supposed to be here. We’ll just, um, be… leaving…”

Sausage heard him draw a sharp breath, then saw what he was staring at.

…Who he was staring at.

Sausage’s hand unconsciously went up to touch his right cheek. “It… can’t be…” He was looking at himself, but with jet black wings, ragged and torn clothes, with sculk vein running along the side of his face and across the top wing on that side, and also down his arm – and four horizontal scars to go with the one over his eye.

What were the odds of another version of him having the exact same scars as…

“Myth?” Sausage asked in horrified wonder.

“You,” the other responded, voice low and yet oddly calm.

Scott raised the shield. Myth had changed since the last time they had seen him; there was no telling if his feelings toward them had, as well.

.

Smajor attempted to get a view of what was happening, but Myth’s stupid multiple pairs of wings were blocking everything. What he heard, however, was a voice just like Myth’s but less gravelly. His hands squeezed the bars until his knuckles turned white. “It can’t be… It cannot be. H-How? Why?” He growled quietly. Those two…

Myth then uttered a dry laugh and turned with an arm extended like a host inviting guests into the parlor. “Oh, do come in. Welcome to our little home. It’s less comfortable than the limbo dimension was, but neither of you look like you need water or room to change gravity.”

“Yeah, welcome!” Smajor called out. “Don’t be scared – you’re not the ones on the wrong side of the bars!” He added darkly, “Or are you…”

“We’ll settle for the exit,” Scott replied, although he snuck a glance past Myth to try to see what state his own double was in.

Myth put a hand on the top edge of the shield and pushed it downward. “I’d like to insist. Maybe you could at least explain how you got here, never mind what you’re doing here in the first place. The ancient city is miles away. You can’t tell me you went through your side, got through that entire maze again, and came through our portal for no reason.” There was an edge to his voice and Scott didn’t like the way he was staring at Sausage – or maybe it was just that the flaming sword was making Myth nervous.

If his powers had been working, he would have let off a burst of sparks to blind the two who were apparently used to living in the sculk-infested darkness. He sorely wished he and Sausage had investigated the top of the neighboring cavern right away.

Meanwhile, Sausage lowered his sword. “We didn’t do anything. One minute we were standing around at home, then there was a bright light, and then we were here! Well, several caves and tunnels back that way, technically.”

“Just out of the blue?” Myth questioned. He moved into the chamber and leaned against the table, appearing to sound genuinely curious.

Smajor snickered at how out of place the attempt at a casual attitude looked. “Very good, Myth, you seem so normal right now.” He then flicked a hand at Scott. “So, what even are you? I didn’t turn into anything that looked like that. Not that I remember everything I was before this. You’ll have to ask him if I ever turned purple and… fancy, or whatever it is you’ve got going on. What type of powers do you have? I’m starved for knowledge of the outside world – tell me, tell me.”

Scott shook his head. “That’s for me to know and you not to find out.” He then looked at Myth. “So… this was your solution? You brought him back and put him in a cell…?”

“Oh, there were a few altercations after we got back. You know, since it didn’t take long for him to find a way to kill me. But that first one he did to me after getting back, well…” Myth took a step forward and stretched out his wings, forcing Scott and Sausage to move clear in opposite directions, with the starborne ending up uncomfortably close to his depowered double.

Sausage noticed the black spatters of ichor on the ground and raised a finger to ask something, but Myth turned his attention back to Scott and said, “Now, see, you don’t know! You didn’t get the honor of looking into my soul and my private memories! This is what’s called poetic irony. You see, when he was a vampire, he imprisoned me in a little dungeon and had himself angel blood on tap until he finally drained me enough times that I became a wither.” Myth smiled sardonically. “And you thought ‘accidentally’ killing your angel was the worst thing you ever did!”

Scott darted a pained look at Sausage; the seraph mouthed the words, ‘I didn’t tell him about that,’ in a hasty defense.

Myth swung a lazy glance between the two. “The soul thing went both ways, by the way. So, I got a glimpse of your past. And now look at you.” Here he turned toward Sausage, spreading his wings just enough to block Scott. “All shining silver and holy fire still at your call. Of course this would happen – it makes perfect sense we ended up as opposites. How is life in the celestial realm? As you can see…” Here his voice went from a casual conversational tone to completely flat, “I’m two steps from hell.”

Sausage gazed back at his double with nothing but sympathy. “Myth… What happened to you? You obviously became a seraph, too, but… what’s wrong with your wings? Why are they dripping like… you’ve got a permanent wound?”

“Oh, you should have seen them when they were red! It was even more ghastly!”

Sausage’s eyes widened. “Wait – red, like blood? But that only happens if—” He stopped himself as realization hit. “Right. Of course.” He bowed his head, then cast a sad look toward where the cell sat beyond Myth’s wings.

“So, you do know the stories,” Myth said dispassionately.

“I… Well, I had a nightmare about that once.”

“Lucky you! Only a nightmare!” Myth flapped his bottom wings once, sending ichor splattering onto the ground. “Well, this is the reality of what happens when an angel kills someone, hmm, how many was it, Smajor?”

The reply came in a feigned weary tone. “One hundred and three.” Smajor surreptitiously clutched the arm guard he now wore.

“That was it,” Myth confirmed with a nod. “Kill someone over a hundred times, you get a cursed angel.”

“Myth…” Sausage’s voice was full of sorrow. “I’m sorry this happened to you. I… I don’t know what can be done. But maybe we can find a way to help—”

Myth suddenly closed his hand around the hilt of the sword on the table, although it was his empty hand that he lashed out with to shove Sausage backward. His face twisted into a snarl. “You don’t get to just show up now and try to redeem me again! It didn’t really work the first time! It gave me the power I needed, but I was doomed from the start!!” He swung the sword. Its darkly-stained blade clashed with the bright edge of Sausage’s sword as the seraph answered with a blocking maneuver.

“Sausage!” Scott cried, about to leap over to help, but was yanked back when something snagged the collar of his overcoat. Rage crossed his own face; he had ended up too close to Smajor, which was something he had wanted to avoid. He spun around, ripping the fabric free from the other’s hand.

Smajor let his arm hang down outside the window; the other arm, with the guard on it, he kept snug between his chest and the door. “Oh, relax. I can’t do anything.  I don’t have any powers at all anymore. But, hear me out – let’s just have a little entertainment! Yours has got to be more powerful than mine, still being holy and all. Let him wipe the floor with Myth, then we’ll see about this ‘help’ you might be able to offer. And figure out whatever mysterious force brought you here, of all places.”

Scott regarded him with exasperation. “So, you didn’t learn anything from all this?”

“Was I supposed to? I still want to wring his neck, given the chance.” Smajor smirked then licked his lips. “He’s so convinced he was destined to be my jailer. I could at least make it worth his time.”

Scott rolled his eyes then said dryly, “I see Sausage fixed it so you weren’t an unhinged psychopath anymore. Now you’re just a regular one.”

The clash of steel drew his attention back to the two angels as Myth forced Sausage into the passageway. Scott felt like he had missed his window to be defense like he had proposed. This is just like the last time. I couldn’t do much before as a fish out of water, all I had was a trident. He looked at the shield. I don’t know if I could even throw this effectively since I haven’t gotten used to it yet… And I doubt I’m suddenly going to start getting any of my other powers back.

Smajor let out an exaggerated groan. “Aww, I can’t see what’s going on if they leave! Hey – purple me. Snap out of it and let me out of here so I can watch! You can be my new guard. I promise I’ll behave.” He grinned with a look that was everything the complete opposite of innocence.

“I think you’ll be fine for a few minutes without supervision.” Scott eyed the numerous locks on the door that only now were noticeable in the unhindered light from the soul lantern. It hadn’t sounded like Myth had that many keys on him when he moved, which meant they were hidden somewhere. Smajor was the least of his concerns, anyway. The sound of Sausage crying out in pain was the immediate one, so he ran toward the passage. He would figure out how to aid his partner when he got there.

Smajor gripped the bars with both hands and growled again. “I hate all of you…”

.

Sausage did his best to meet every swing and made some attempts to push back, sweeping his wings out of the way and dodging as Myth struck at him relentlessly – wild yet controlled enough to land hits; the cursed angel was eerily precise. He was enraged, yes, but clearly more sane than Smajor had been back in the limbo dimension. Surely Sausage could try to reason with him. “Myth! Please! We don’t have to fight! Let me hel—”

“THAT’S why!” Myth shouted. “Stop looking at me like I’m someone to be saved! You can’t save everyone, Sausage! Someone has to fall through the cracks sometime! You can hold out your hand all you want but that doesn’t mean you’re going to catch them!” As if to emphasize the point, he yanked his sword away and beat his wings, lifting up just enough to perform a kick that sent Sausage stumbling backward.

Sausage quickly caught his balance, although he clutched his chest plate where the kick had landed. “But... But you’re me! How do I give up on myself??”

“Easy.” Myth shifted his wings and dived forward, whipping his sword to the side to slash Sausage’s arm between the edges of his armor plates. “You stop caring.”

Sausage stumbled again, crying out in pain. The bite of the cursed angel’s blade hurt much more than he was expecting.

Myth kept in step with him, slashing again and again before Sausage could recover, slicing into his wings and hitting spots the gleaming silver armor didn’t cover. “Just shut it off,” he continued coldly. “Shut off the part of you that cares. It’s the only way to survive. The. Only. Way.”

He kicked Sausage again to send the seraph to his knees. Clutching at one of the wounds on his arm, Sausage found himself out of words for the moment. He looked at the palm of his hand as he drew it away. It wasn’t blood there, but black ichor, as if Myth’s sword had bled into him. The slashes across his wings were similarly staining his feathers black, with the color spreading as it dripped through the layers of silvery white.

Myth stared down at him with bitterness. “I could have gone an eternity without ever seeing either of you again. I didn’t need to be reminded of everything I can’t have.” He brought his blade up, but Sausage got a foot under himself and was able to brace his sword in time to block the strike, then he forced his body upward to push Myth back and then throw the cursed angel’s arms wide, with Myth needing to catch his own balance, which involved spreading his wings and sending droplets of ichor flying.

The effort brought a fresh wave of pain from each one of Sausage’s wounds and he had to back off, hand clamped over one of the gashes on his sword arm.  “A-And if I don’t want to do that?” he weakly protested.

“Then you had better hope whatever brought you here decides to step in and take you back, because I can’t stand to keep looking at you.” Myth’s expression was once more all cold and bitterness as he raised his sword. Sausage gripped the hilt of his blade with both hands, but wasn’t sure he had the strength to block again. He folded one of his top wings across his face to act as a meager barrier.

Mercy didn’t register for even the briefest second as Myth started to bring the sword down. He would have no qualms about slicing through those pure, bright feathers.

Then Scott ploughed into him from the side, shield leading. He continued the charge until the ground turned into dripstone and he nearly shoved the cursed angel past the columns into the next part of the cavern. Myth flailed his wings, battering at Scott from around the shield. Scott tried to keep his head down behind it, but the feeling of the thick, wet ichor on his neck made him balk from revulsion.

He whipped the shield to the side, knocking Myth’s wings away, then he turned and ran back to where Sausage had dropped to his knees with a hand braced on the ground. Scott took a defiant stance over him. “Sausage, can you get up? What’s happening with those wounds? You… aren’t bleeding, but…”

“His – His sword. It’s become an unholy weapon. It’s hurting me differently than a normal one would.”

Scott glanced down with concern, although he didn’t want to take his eyes off Myth for too long; the cursed angel did seem to be weighing what to do with a fresh combatant that might not be affected by his weapon in the same way, and hadn’t moved yet. “Then you need to heal yourself quickly! Don’t worry about him attacking, I’ll protect you.”

“B-But, if you get hit, you can’t heal like me!”

“Focus on yourself first.” Scott flicked a glance at Myth, then looked squarely at Sausage and said grimly, “Because I need you to get back in this fight so I can do something to get us out of here. I have one power I can use…”

The seraph struggled to his feet, silver light now dancing over his wounds, although the stains on his feathers persisted. “But we don’t even know if there is a way out up there!” He nodded upward once, thinking Scott meant he had an energy reserve enough for an emergency boost to the rocky shelf above.

“I’ll make one,” Scott replied. He adjusted his feet and braced himself when it looked like Myth might be about to rush at them.

Instead, Sausage grabbed the shield from him and shot forward in a flurry of wings and fading silver light as his healing ability finished its work. With a beat of his wings, he leapt upward to lend more force to his attack. Myth launched himself to meet him halfway, taking the fight to the air. The cursed blade clashed with the now blazing shield. Myth didn’t seem concerned about his own lack of such defense, relying on his long-honed agility in flight to dodge Sausage’s strikes while attempting to land hits on the seraph once again, showing no hesitation in the face of the holy flames.

While they fought above, Scott walked to the center of the cavern and raised one hand, closing his eyes as he concentrated on cosmic wavelengths far beyond the reach of stone and soil. He grasped hold with his command of planetary gravity and urged it to answer his call.

One of the tiny stars orbiting his head winked out. He felt one of the many taut threads of local gravity slacken. It seemed to have worked, yet now he could only wait in anticipation to see if the meteor strike would actually arrive.

He smiled in satisfaction at the sound of rumbling. When chips of stone began to drop from the ceiling, he took off running in the direction opposite of the sculk passageway. “Sausage! Get clear of the middle!!”

With large pieces of stone starting to fall around them, Sausage made one last, powerful sweep of his wings while at the same time drawing his legs up to plant his feet on Myth’s chest. Then he punted him downward, subsequently sending him away from the center as well. Sausage hastily swooped after Scott as massive cracks spread overhead.

The ceiling gave way as a nine-meter-wide meteorite crashed through, opening the underground to the night sky.

As he flew clear, Myth stared over his shoulder in disbelief. He couldn’t even fathom whatever powers it was that Scott had, since he hadn’t manifested any other type of offense until that moment. Myth then had to shield his body with his top and bottom wings as the meteorite’s impact with the floor threw more debris everywhere, the shockwave sending chunks of deepslate on a horizontal axis into every available opening in the walls.

Through the clouds of dust, Myth saw the white flash of Sausage’s wings as he sped upward to the brand-new exit to the surface, and he assumed the seraph was carrying Scott with him. He was incensed by their escape, but he knew there was a possibility that the impact could have damaged the cell, so he glided down to check.

He completely missed the streak of bright violet sparkles that followed after Sausage.

The sculk in the passageway had been scored by one piece of large debris that had been flung into the chamber; that piece now rested up against the iron door, which had been rammed directly in the middle, buckling it inward and tearing the hinges clean off at the top and bottom. Smajor was in the process of wiggling out through the gap close to the floor. He had cut his hip on the edge of the broken door, but wasn’t letting that stop him as he pulled himself along far enough to get his legs free of the cell.

Then he looked up and saw Myth.

He swore.

Myth strode over and grabbed him by one arm to haul him to his feet. “We’ll have to find a new place to put you later. Let me show you why you wouldn’t have gotten very far anyway.” He dragged Smajor out to the main cavern and then let him just stare at the hunk of space rock embedded in the middle. “Only way out now is up,” Myth declared, with heavy emphasis on the last word.

Smajor could only stutter in response. “Whu – What did this??”

“Well, I know angels can’t call down huge meteors. The other me would have used holy fire, even though it would have taken a while for it to blast through this deep. Whatever your double is did this.” Myth squeezed Smajor’s arm. “Maybe you should ask him yourself.” With a beat of his wings and spray of ichor, he launched upward, taking Smajor with him via a painful wrenching of his shoulder.

He hadn’t seemed to have noticed that Smajor was wearing the arm guard, although Smajor himself doubted it was going to serve any purpose.

.

Sausage landed a meter or two from the edge of the giant hole, taking a moment to assess his new wounds. He knelt on one knee to put down his sword and shield so he could have both hands free to get a better look at his still-stained feathers – but still be able to grab them again if Myth should happen to come shooting out of the hole in pursuit.

He smiled instead when he saw a trail of purple sparkles arcing up into the air before Scott came back down, his body completely aglow then fading into his regular form – now with his skin glittering once again and the constellation around his head twinkling in the moonlight.

Scott smiled at him in return, then leaned to pick up the sword and shield to hold them for him. “How are the wounds? Are you feeling all right?”

“They still kind of sting. Maybe a little more time and they’ll feel better, but I could go for a regen potion right about now.”

“Since we have a moment, do you have any ideas for what we should even do here? This is their world, not the limbo dimension, and even if we stand a better chance at defeating Myth now that I can use all my powers, that doesn’t necessarily solve things.”

“I’m not sure,” Sausage admitted fretfully. “If he’s gone beyond a fallen angel, there isn’t much that can be done. He had a point… Redemption for angels only goes so far depending on their deeds.”

They didn’t get a chance to discuss the matter further, because right then Myth rose out of the pit with Smajor dangling from his hold. The cursed angel landed a mere ten steps away, and kept a grip on Smajor’s arm. Smajor gawked at Scott but didn’t comment on his now glittery appearance.

Sausage took his sword and shield from Scott, reigniting the flames on them, and held them at the ready, eyeing the sword in Myth’s other hand.

Scott raised his hands in a placating gesture. “Myth, we never meant you any harm. We don’t know why we’re here, but the fact that we did end up in your vicinity must mean the reason is connected to you. Maybe you weren’t meant to save yourself, but an outside perspective could make a difference.”

“If you’re going to start with your forgiveness nonsense again, don’t bother. And don’t you start pitying me, too,” Myth spat. “I don’t need both of you acting like saviors. And I didn’t need to be reminded that there was a happier option out there, or that it was destined to be exactly opposite of my life! I don’t want what you have, but I didn’t ask for this, either! Yet all I could do was accept it. Don’t try to change it now. You’re far too late for that.”

He jerked on Smajor’s arm, causing him to stumble in front of him. Then Myth drew back his other hand—

And then the point of his sword was sticking out of Smajor’s chest.

Smajor looked down, emitting a choked noise. “Yep… That… That still hurts…”

Myth yanked the sword out then threw him to the ground, where he curled up to quietly bleed out. Sausage and Scott stared grimly; a tense stalemate followed. Sausage’s grip tightened on the hilt of his sword, but he was in no hurry to engage the cursed angel again.

After another minute, Smajor gasped in a breath. He didn’t move, although he did groan out, “Oh, I did not miss that happening…”

Scott and Sausage now traded looks, both realizing Smajor hadn’t changed before reviving. The starborne questioned warily, “Wait, so, he wasn’t just a plain human on that life? What have you done to him?”

“This is what I meant,” Myth replied. “This is it for us. The end result. We go no further, we get no other chances, we’re like this forever.”

Sausage thought back to what he had told Scott moments ago about redemption. “Then… why are we here??” he despaired.

“Maybe,” Myth said in a bland tone as he picked Smajor up by the arm again, “You were sent simply to learn to temper that hero complex of yours. I’ll say it again: you can’t save everyone.” He stepped over to the pit, and the two thought that he was planning to take his leave and lock Smajor up again, and that had been his final word.

Instead, he shoved Smajor over the edge – dropping him to another certain death.

Sausage dismissed his weapons back to thin air and dived toward the rim of the pit, the thought in his mind of this has to stop! not making it to his lips.

“WHAT did I just SAY?!” Myth yelled, darting after him with sword leading to intercept him. “Are you just compelled to rescue people?!” He slashed one of Sausage’s middle wings, sending him off-kilter toward the wall of the pit.

Before Myth could follow, a dazzling burst of purple light exploded in front of him. He dashed a fist across his eyes in reaction.

Scott approached him, a sparking sphere of starlight held in reserve at his side. “Well, then what are you? Compelled to murder?” He would have to hope Sausage had been able to stabilize his flight, if not catch Smajor on the way down. He didn’t hear any sounds from the pit yet, but didn’t want to try to rush directly past Myth, either. Of course, now that he was out in the open, he could call down a star strike almost instantaneously to deal with the cursed angel.

“From pity to judging, here we go.” Myth pointed his sword at Scott. “I guess you’ve never once had the thought in your sparkly head to pay back someone for an injustice done to you. Lucky you.”

Scott decided to try sidling around for a better position to get past him. “Not unless you count an injustice I committed myself, that one day put me in a position to take the revenge another could have enacted upon me, and I was ready to remain locked in limbo to atone for it.”

Myth sneered. “Yes, I already know about the guilt trip you gave yourself, no need to go on about it.”

“Actually, this was something else that came later, but facing it freed me to become this.” Clenching his fist around the sphere, Scott then held his hand outward. From the sky came a shower of twinkling violet, nearly landing on Myth’s head; the sparks danced across his wings, causing him to growl in pain and attempt to dodge out from under the star strike. Scott moved his hand to follow him and maintained the strike until Myth charged toward him. Then he conjured another sphere in one hand and reached into it with the other, pulling out a sword made of the same glowing purple starstuff.

“Of course,” Myth muttered. The sight didn’t stop him; all the glittering light and shining gold of Scott’s overcoat only increased his resentment, and soon he was caught up in a duel with the more nimble starborne.

.

Out of reflex, Sausage pulled in his freshly injured wing as the pain caused by the cursed blade flared. He had just enough time to tuck his top pair of wings against his neck to cushion it as well as the back of his head before he crashed into the wall. Pain spiked along his back but faded as he dropped downward. He forced both of his middle wings to spread enough to soften his landing, but then he let all six hang limply after he was on his feet. He didn’t know why he had bothered going in to try to catch Smajor; he had fought him before when they were both gravitals, and Smajor had done whatever he could to make Sausage miserable, along with attempting to slash his throat toward the end.

Maybe Myth was right.

Smajor lay in a crooked sprawl against the side of the meteorite. From the looks of things, it might take a little longer than the earlier stabbing for him to revive. Sausage wasn’t sure what to do with him this time. It wasn’t like he could purify his soul or… anything, really. Was there even anywhere safe he could put him? Because it seemed like the only option was to go back up to the surface, and it wasn’t like Sausage could deposit him somewhere else in the world and ask him to go live a peaceful life without trying to get revenge on Myth for, well, everything, all over again.

Sausage sat down, leaning on the other side of the meteorite to try to think while keeping a feathery ear out for when Smajor revived. Yet not two seconds later he realized with resignation that the safest thing would be to secure Smajor before he woke up. Sausage doubted he would have anything constructive to offer.

By the time he got back over to Smajor, the regenerative magic of the world had knitted him back together to a point where Sausage could pick him up without a leg hanging oddly; his ribcage wasn’t doing so well, however. The seraph tried not to think about how this could just as easily be his Scott, roughed up and grimy… with an arm guard identical to his own but severely damaged, countless lines grouped by five scratched into the metal.

Not countless, he corrected himself. One hundred and three. Or one hundred and five now, he supposed.

Sausage made his way through the sculk-filled passageway. He surveyed the destruction within and set Smajor down on the floor, hoping he stayed unconscious a little longer. He studied the iron door, then drew out his sword and focused on making the flames burn hotter. He made short work of the remaining hinge, then pulled the buckled metal out of the way. He carried Smajor into the cell. He sighed at the futility and placed him on the bed.

What to do about the open doorway, though…

Sausage took a quick look around outside. Under the table was a well-camouflaged black shulker box with sculk vein all over it. He grimaced but pulled enough of the pulsating substance off to get the box open. Inside were a dozen keys, a diamond pickaxe, and ten pieces of obsidian.

Well, two would do.

He gave another resigned look at Smajor before placing the first block in front of the cell doorway rather than directly inside it. He would let Myth worry about uncovering him later.

Smajor suddenly bolted up and lunged at the doorway, shoving his right arm in the way of the block Sausage had been about to place. “Don’t cut me off from everything!” he protested, then coughed, which resulted in a bit of blood flecking the corner of his mouth. “Leave me a little window or something, so I can at least see Myth coming when he comes back down here to murder me again!”

Sausage gazed back at him with an empty expression, then said softly, “Maybe don’t give him a reason to.”

“You saw what he did up there! I wasn’t even moving!”

Sausage began to lower the second piece of obsidian. “I can’t do anything to help you. All I can do is put things back in their place.”

Smajor tried to fake a hurt look, but then his face hardened. He slid his arm back and clutched the arm guard. He glanced from it to the one that Sausage wore, but said nothing else.

The seraph sighed; well, at least he had moved his arm out of the way and didn’t try to keep Sausage stuck there in some moral quandary of whether or not to drop the obsidian on him to finishing sealing him in.

He turned away with another sigh. As he exited the passageway and had the moonlight to see by, he pulled one of his wings forward to look at the ichor-damaged feathers. He plucked out one that was almost fully gray and turned it over in his hand. It didn’t look like a stain that could be washed off, and the healing light hadn’t fixed them, either. He would have to hope they molted over time. Until then, maybe they would be a reminder of Myth’s words.

He directed his healing ability to the slash on his middle wing so he could fly out of the pit again.

.

Myth was finding it to be a lot harder to fight Scott. There was less surface area to strike at – no extra appendages, and at times it seemed the starborne’s limbs were only made of ethereal light that his blade passed right through before Scott twisted to strike back at him. There was now red mixing with the black from cuts on the cursed angel’s wings; Scott wasn’t pulling punches, whereas Sausage had been distracted by trying to talk things out.

Finally, Myth resorted to sweeping his wings to carry him backward away from Scott. He then threw his middle ones upward to cover the area over his head against another star strike.

Scott held his free hand up with a sphere of light on his palm again to keep that threat hanging over the cursed angel. “So, where does it end, Myth? When do you consider the never-ending cycle of revenge to be over? How much more hate and death do you want to have weighing on your soul? You don’t want me to repeat things, but I know very well how past failings over even just nine lives can keep someone from their true potential.”

“Potential? Have you been paying attention? O p p o s i t e s. We weren’t meant for this chivalry and glory that you two have! You achieved it, so someone else wasn’t supposed to! Our lives were sacrificed for yours! Now take that guilt and shove it up your pretentious, sparkly—”

At that moment Sausage soared up out of the pit and flew over Myth’s head, almost grazing the upheld wings, but went on to land next to Scott. He put a hand on Scott’s arm and made him lower it. “We’re going.”

“Saus—what? Going where?” Scott shot him a bewildered look before returning a watchful gaze to Myth in case the cursed angel pounced.

“We’re not here to change their fates.” He tugged on Scott’s arm to pull him away from continuing the fight.

Myth snorted. “Thanks for finally catching on! Just going to walk away, then? No last speech to tell me if I believe in myself enough, I’ll become pretty and shiny, too?”

“No,” Sausage called back over his shoulder. “I’m done talking. You’ve reminded me that I once heard someone say ‘No one can save all the world, but we should save who we can.’ You don’t want to be saved, so I’ll find someone who does.”

“Yeah?” Myth clenched his teeth then shouted, “And you DIDN’T HAVE TO COME REMIND ME THAT ANY HOPE WAS OUT THERE!”

Sausage turned his face away from him and instead scooped Scott up in his arms to wash off the memory of having so recently held Smajor the same way. Scott didn’t question it; Sausage didn’t seem about to give a destination, and Scott wasn’t going to go bounding off without knowing where they were headed, first. He draped his arms around Sausage’s neck as the seraph flapped his wings to take off.  He didn’t bother to even just circle the pit one last time, only flew off in a vaguely eastern direction. He held Scott tightly against him.

Myth stared after them but didn’t pursue. “Gone, just like that?” He spat out the words. “Where do they even think they’re going? Would they actually go through the limbo dimension again?” He then looked directly up and raised the point of his sword to threaten an invisible adversary. “And to what end was this all really for?! You can’t just let me lie in the dark in peace?! You know there is no hope left here! Or was this meant as a wake up call for them? Why would they need the reminder? They’ve got their happy ever after! They didn’t have the misery of a hundred lifetimes! They—”

Myth stopped. Only ten. Their doubles only had to go through ten lives.

…Had Scott been right?

~*~

“What are you looking for?” Scott asked softly when he noticed Sausage had begun scanning along the horizon.

“Anything familiar,” Sausage murmured, his tone bleak.

Scott chanced a look at the ground. There were a few scattered structures, but everything appeared to be closed up against the night. Zombies wandered here and there, but the two of them were high enough that they didn’t draw the attention of any regular monsters which might have been out.

When Sausage banked to start following a river, Scott realized what he might be looking for. He gently hugged the seraph’s neck in silent solidarity. Then he started keeping an eye out, as well.

However, they both remembered what Myth had said way back in the labyrinth about things being destroyed in this world.

“There.” Scott pointed to an overgrown mountaintop with a crumbling stone staircase cut into the side that led up from the river. The dock was nonexistent. He patted Sausage’s shoulder then shifted into his starlight form to take flight on his own, arcing down out of the seraph’s arms to land on the ground while Sausage made a loop around the area to have a more thorough look.

There were a lot fewer buildings than in their version of Heaven’s Reach, and certainly no scenic gardens or ponds. The church seemed to have been reduced to a crumbling foundation, whereas the rest had only fallen into disrepair. Sausage landed in the rampant tall grass beside where the door would have been.

He sighed as Scott walked over. “I thought maybe we could reach Pearl – our Pearl, I guess? – if we could find this world’s Heaven’s Reach. But I guess it got destroyed like everything else, thanks to those two.” He looked around, despair back in his voice. “I don’t even see any sunflowers growing around it. How did things go so wrong here?”

Scott debated telling him what Myth had said about fated opposites. “Maybe unlike you, he got cut off from his Pearl when he arrived here, and… forgot much faster, or gave up more easily. You shook off that first death pretty quickly, you know? From what Myth said, it seemed the… situation dragged out for too long. And then it escalated into back-and-forth revenge, where we just kind of… moved on, and… you didn’t resent the fact that I became an angel. You and I went down one path, they went down the opposite. I don’t know if that fact itself was destined to happen, but Myth seemed to think so.”

“Hmm,” Sausage agreed listlessly. He stood there for a moment, seeming to be lost in thought, then he headed for the remains of the cemetery. It was equally overgrown, but there was something odd about one of the back corners – starting with an old, dead sunflower.

He hadn’t noticed it at first since its stalk blended in with the rest of the yellowed grass, and its head was bowed with only shriveled, dull petals left clinging to it that he only now saw as he approached. Scott followed him, curious.

There were objects strewn under the lanky, dry grass. Some had begun to disintegrate, clearly made of materials not meant to be left out in the elements long term. But the ones made of metal, or fired clay…

Sausage uttered a mournful whimper as he knelt to pick up a terracotta figurine that very much resembled himself with only one pair of wings. He glanced at the headstone. The carving was weathered but the shape of a sunflower with sun rays around it were still visible. He set down the figurine. “Well… he was remembered for starting out like me. I assume this means he was kind and helpful at one point.”

Scott rested a hand on the seraph’s shoulder. “It wasn’t a pleasant route, but he sort of ended up protecting the rest of the world from a me who didn’t learn that darkness wasn’t the only path to follow.”

“And here we are, all bright and shining.” Sausage cast a glance over the items, then plucked one made of gold out of the grass. He was about to comment when they heard a sort of crystalline tinkling noise, followed by the reversed sound of shattering glass.

A pale glow fell upon them from the middle of the cemetery. Sausage gave a cry of relief and put down the gold figurine, then grabbed Scott’s hand as he stood up. Scott smiled, as well, and they both gazed through the Aether portal that had appeared, seeing the familiar sight of the royal gazebo in Pearl’s realm. Sausage stopped just short of entering it, however, and squeezed Scott’s hand to stop him from going through. “What if it isn’t ours? What if it’s a parallel version?”

His doubts were set aside as Pearl stepped into view, a tearful look of relief on her face as she held out her arms and, even though they couldn’t hear her, she was obviously saying the words, ‘My boys!’

Sausage’s heart soared and he hurried through, still holding tight to Scott.

The portal shuddered behind them, then imploded in on itself, although from their side it merely winked out of existence. They were too busy being engulfed in a goddess-sized hug to notice.

“There you two are! Where have you been? I couldn’t find you anywhere! How in the world did you end up back in the mortal realm?”

Sausage drew back from her embrace. “Wait, you didn’t send us?? Like you did with that floran project??”

Pearl looked at him with confusion. “No? I had no idea you were even gone until you didn’t answer when I tried to summon you! I was looking all over but there was no sign of either of you! What happened?”

Scott gave a somewhat pained smile. “Pearl, do you remember ever losing track of Sausage before in the other world, around the time he was a gravital? We took a little trip through a limbo dimension and met an… interesting pair of people…”

~*~

When Myth broke through the top piece of obsidian covering the cell doorway, he found Smajor scratching at the arm guard with a sharp chip of deepslate that had been part of the debris from earlier. The cursed angel eyed him warily.

Smajor merely held up the arm guard to show him what he had been doing. “I’m adding the count for you. Had to finish off that last set of tallies, huh?” He grinned.

Myth wasn’t amused. “I need to put a new door on, so get ready for number one hundred and six.”

“How about I just sit here and behave, and we not do the stabbing. Here! I’ll even do this…” Smajor gingerly set the arm guard down in the middle of the floor along with the slate chip – then he pushed the small pile of other bits of debris that he had gathered next to it. Lastly, he nudged the clock over as well to show he had nothing else at his disposal. Then he sat down on the bed with his hands pinned under his legs. “There, see? I’ll be good.”

“We’ll see how long that lasts.”

Smajor shrugged and looked off to the side with a blank expression. Myth watched him for a few seconds, then worked on removing the second one. Smajor heard him throw down the pickaxe as soon as the block was out of the way, and looked over to see him pointing his sword into the cell. He uttered an exasperated noise. “Hey, Myth? Maybe I’m TIRED OF DYING. So just put the stupid door on and we’ll go back to what we were doing before. You want to stay stuck in this dark chamber forever? Then fine, we’ll do that.”

“Actually, this is temporary, now that there’s a giant hole to the surface directly outside and some other idiots could stumble in here at any moment. But since you want to stay alive, you get a new door until I figure out where to go.”

“Oh, very good point. Wouldn’t want to start adding anyone else to your body count. Or was it only your double that you wanted to see dead? Bit of a reflection you weren’t happy to look into, hmm?”

“How about you also sit silently before I change my mind about killing you again.”

Smajor adjusted his legs while smiling, keeping his hands where they were. Who needed a physical weapon when he had delicious irony as a means of pouring salt into wounds?

~*~

Later, when she was alone, Pearl paced around the perimeter of the gazebo, her mind abuzz with thoughts of parallel versions of people. She stopped at one point to wave a hand over the reflecting pool, bringing up a sepia-tone vision of a world from the past.

She watched it for a moment, then let out a distressed sigh and began to pace around again, hands clasped tightly behind her back.

An unfamiliar voice called out from the direction of the pool. “Goddess PearlescentMoon, we need to have words with you.”

Pearl froze, then pivoted on her heel. Rising out of the pool was a bipedal figure made of jittering static. When they fully emerged, they stepped onto the floor, remaining indistinguishable, although Pearl thought she could make out the shape of a pair of closed eyes. “Well, that’s quite an entrance,” she said stiffly. “But – I’m sorry? Who are you?”

“We are one of the higher deities, responsible for matters of the spirit which are involved with all living things. That includes souls. You have something to answer for…”

Behind them, the pool returned to the image of the sepia-washed world just as a figure with a crown of red and gold stepped into view.

 ~ The End ~

[yeahimwiththeband]

-> with the band chapter 10

tell the truth (part 2)

warning: romance, drugs, ptsd, drugs, anxiety, drugs. don’t do drugs, kids. 

A/N: such a short chapter! izzy learns some things, and shares some things. the tour takes a dark turn. 

word count: 3.3k

The co-op house party was boiling and Izzy never wanted it to end. They were in the back garden, and the sky above them was big and open and clear; Izzy could see the stars. Seth strummed Tara’s guitar and Mitch danced with Lydia under the wisteria. 

Izzy knew they were supposed to leave for Chicago in the morning, just a few hours away. Chicago, then California, then Mexico and Peru. Izzy had never been out of the country. She imagined gardens with mango and papaya trees. She imagined staying with George on the beach, and hearing Harry’s voice as it had sounded the first time, everything back to normal.

“Have you ever tried them?” Olivia asked. The mysterious woman from the kitchen had followed them outside and was hovering beside Olivia.

“No,” Izzy said. “I haven’t tried any drugs. Except weed.”

“Sticking to what’s organic,” Seth said. “What comes from the earth. Like your boyfriend. I see the connection now.”

“Izzy seems all hard edges and practical, but she’s a gentle soul,” said Olivia. “She needs gentle things.”

Izzy asked where George was. She wanted to do whatever they were about to do with him; where was he? Where the fuck was he?

“He’s with Ryan,” Jess said. “Strategy session.”

“It’s not a strategy session,” Izzy said. “It’s past 3 in the morning.”

“Your vibration is getting higher,” the woman told Tara, holding her hand in front of her chest. The mystery woman was maybe 28, but seemed much older. She was wearing layered jersey fabrics and a bandana, giving 90s yoga teacher vibes. She and Seth seemed to know each other; she lived at the co-op. Izzy’s phone buzzed. “But you’re restless now,” she continued. Tara nodded.

Then the woman turned to Izzy.

“You are a child of light,” she said. 

“Okay,” Izzy said. Tara giggled. The woman’s eyes crinkled as she smiled at her. Izzy felt like she was watching herself from a distance, looking into a parallel life: college, co-op housing, in person classes. The life she would have had if she had made just a few decisions differently. It didn’t feel like her real life—what she did here didn’t seem to matter to her, as much. She felt freer. The co-op belonged to another timeline. 

“I like your bandana,” Izzy tried. She did love her bandana. She loved everything there. Was it possible to get high from second hand weed smoke?

“I like your boyfriend,” she said.

“Thank you,” Izzy said. “I manifested him.” She really felt like she did, sometimes. All her daydreams became a person.

“I can feel that,” the woman replied. “He doesn’t seem real. Are you going to try it too?”

“I don’t think Izzy wants that,” the Starer said.

“There’s a spot of darkness in you, right here,” she said, pressing into the space under Izzy’s rib cage. “Right there. You’re hiding something. Shame? Fear?” The woman could see right through her, like all the walls Izzy had built up around her were made of glass.

“Try what?” Izzy asked.

“Open your mouth,” the woman said. Izzy opened her mouth.

“You are hiding from the truth and in that hiding there is chaos. Just like your sister. But I think you’re through the worst of it. She isn’t, yet.” Izzy checked her phone: missed call from Meg. It was probably just a butt dial. Meg never called her.

“My sister…?” She asked the woman.

“Lydia. She is truly wise beyond her years,” the woman said.

Izzy closed her mouth. There was a pill on her tongue.

“I hope this helps you. Because you know it wasn’t your fault, the accident.” The pill in Izzy’s mouth had dissolved and the people in the room had changed. Izzy was standing in front of the same woman, but time had passed. She had told her about the accident.

The co-op’s garden seemed to fold up and out from itself, stretching over everything she knew.

Izzy stretched her hands out in front of her, squeezing and unsqueezing them. They were numb. Tara’s hand was on her back. 

“Tell me the truth,” Izzy heard herself saying. “I only want the truth. I don’t want anything else I don’t understand. Where’s George?”

“Oooh, this is a fun game!” Lisa said. 

“Truth or dare?” Jess said. 

“Just truth,” Izzy replied. 

“Sometimes I think I’m surrounded by children,” Olivia said. Izzy was surrounded by the band again, sitting around the coffee table in the co-op living room. She looked up and saw the flags strung from the ceiling flutter above her. 

“I feel that,” Tara replied. “I’m sorry.”

“I love you. You’re not the one I meant,” she continued.

“I hate all the lies, too,” Tara said. “I wish I could tell the truth.”

“Tell me! Tell me the truth!” Izzy pleaded.

“You first,” Jess said.

“I’m not some fashion heiress,” Izzy said. “My mom owns one store. I’ve never even had a boyfriend, until now. I had all these plans and they got crushed.”

“Crushed by what?” Jess said, tenderness in her voice.

“I’ve never had a real boyfriend either,” Lisa cried. “Men hate me! Everyone thinks I’m a lesbian! Not that there’s anything wrong with being a lesbian.” Izzy couldn’t help but laugh, even in her daze she couldn’t believe it. This ugly shame she had been holding in… other people had it too?

“That’s not it,” Olivia said. “That’s not all of it. Tell the truth, Izzy! This is so fun!” 

“Jess is in love with Harry,” Tara said.

“We’re almost broke,” Lisa said.

“Harry doesn’t love her back,” Olivia continued. “I’m sorry, Jess. Or he doesn’t, yet. And it’s not that you’re not worthy or something.”

Jess sighed. Izzy nodded, taking it all in. It wasn’t the truth she wanted, but Tara seemed liberated for saying it. Somehow, it was all things Izzy already knew.

“I’m worried Eddie won’t stay sober,” Olivia said.

“Me too,” Izzy said, suddenly worried. She didn’t know he had ever had a problem.

“He’s safer off the tour, don’t worry,” Tara said. 

“I’m worried Harry’s music will die,” Jess said. Izzy hadn’t noticed she was there. “I’m worried he’ll quit the tour. Ryan is killing him. He’s saving us, and killing him.”

“I hate that we need him,” Tara said.

“Me too,” Olivia said. “It makes me feel like a fraud.”

“I’m so worried about the money,” Lisa said.

“I’m worried about Lydia,” Izzy said.

“Me too,” Jess said. “All the time. You don’t even know, Izzy. And I can’t tell you.”

Izzy felt the vines in the garden curl around her arms, pulling her into the earth. Lydia was beside her: she grabbed her hand. Mitch was on Lydia’s other side. The three of them held hands and sank into the grass together.

And she was back there. Back at the day after.

...

pov: you’re 18, just turned 18. your bags are packed for school. you just took the tags off your shower caddy. one bag is open, because you had to open it to get out a new pair of underwear and a new outfit. but you’re not at home. you sit on the floor of your cousin’s your cousin’s colourful bedroom that she painted with flowers all the way up to the ceiling with her mom, dotted with glow in the dark stars just now peeling off. your cousin sits across from you, head in her lap. her whole body shakes with sobs. you’re frozen with indecision, you don’t know what to do. you put some music on on your phone. Days Like These comes on and wraps around the both of you. the shaking slows. her dad isn’t home. you don’t know where he went. your parents are at the hospital. you were the one who had to take Lydia home. you can’t take the truth of what has happened, and Lydia is part of that inescapable truth. you turn the music up. you put a hand on her shoulder. you sit across from her and say nothing.

pov: all the bags to college are empty, turned upside down. clothes are all over your room. you had to go through them all to find something black for the funeral. you can’t look at the coffin at the funeral. you look at the grass, the trees. a willow rounds its shoulders over a bench, cloaking it in a curtain of its leaves. this is where you sit after the funeral, alone. your parents take Lydia and her dad back home. you want to cry where you are hidden, where no one can see you, where the rawness of your grief is hidden even from yourself. this is where you’ll sit again in a few weeks, for another funeral. and you’ll cry for everyone who left, and also for yourself, for what you’ve lost, and then in rage and shame for how guilty you feel thinking about yourself.

pov: you’re 19, driving Lydia to school, and she’s blasting a band you haven’t heard of, beach bunny or something. you guys barely talk on the drives but you share music. she sits in the passenger seat like a stone, not moving, so different than the kid who used to dance around the store. your knuckles are white on the wheel, driving the same street where the accident happened, and the entire way you urge yourself to talk to her, to ask her how she’s doing. but you don’t speak. you drop her off, then go to your morning class, then sit in the store and study for the afternoon while your mom is at work - she’s still trying to do the accounting firm and the store at this point - and then you close up, and pick up Lydia from school, and ask her how she is. she says she’s fine. she puts her music back on. she says nothing else. you say that your classes are hard and you feel like you’re failing one of them, like you don’t have enough time with the hours your mom wants you to put in at the store. you feel instantly terrible for complaining about your mom. lydia’s mouth is a hard line. she doesn’t trade any information back. you drop her off, make dinner, then do your assignments late into the night. your mom does the dishes robotically, missing her mom and her sister. you wake up, get in the car, and drive over to Lydia’s to pick her up for school. but she isn’t there. she’s gone, with a bag of her stuff. her dad sits on the steps, holding an envelope with To Dad written in Lydia’s beautiful cursive. that’s when Izzy checked her phone. 3 messages from 6 am.

i’m going with molly’s band, lauren’s older sister, doing their socials

i’m fine

you should come with me

izzy only saw the messages just then, when Lydia was already gone. she had sent them in the morning, when Izzy was doing inventory. “I failed her,” Izzy’s mom said when she found out. “My sister’s daughter.” that’s when she quit her  job to manage the store full time, surrendering to her guilt. when Lydia came back six months later, she was more like the person she was when she was a child, before the accident. she wasn’t wearing black anymore. she came back just to maybe enrol in classes again, but she couldn’t stand her old room, the store where she had played with her mother. so she left again, this time with Jess Harper’s band. she had been on the road ever since. six years.

...

“Tell the truth!” Olivia said.

Izzy forgot where she was, then came back into the room. She was back in the co-op. She was trying to get away from her life, from what had happened, but the deeper she went into the tour, the closer she seemed to get to it, to the truth of what happened. Her hiding places here and there were the same; she was always brought back to the same spot.

“I can’t,” Izzy said.

“What’s going on?” Tara said.

“We’re doing an exorcism,” Olivia said.

Izzy wasn’t in the garden anymore. She was standing in the living room, on the coffee table, hair brushing the flags hanging from the ceiling. Both her hands were in Olivia’s. 

Jess glared at her. “I’m serious,” Olivia said, answering the glare. “And I’d like a closed room for this, if that’s possible.” 

“What did you guys take?” Harry asked. Harry had appeared below them. Izzy wasn’t sure if he was really there or not, or if he was just another face in the crowd at the arena, with her on stage at the microphone, her voice calling out for something that was gone. Her voice, that voice. She recognized the longing. Izzy remembered the first night on the tour: hearing him in the dark, like he was singing only to her, meeting George, waking up on the plane. 

“Jess, honestly, just go back upstairs.” Tara said.

“Say it out loud,” Olivia said. “Say it out loud. Expel it.”

“I can’t,” Izzy said. That’s when she saw the mirror again. Far away, it felt like miles away, she saw Ryan bend over a mirror, using a credit card to form a smear of white powder into a fine line. He sorted it using a rolled up dollar bill. Jess followed, copying his movements. They were across the hallway in the kitchen. George danced madly around the kitchen table with Lydia and Lisa. His nose twitched.

Izzy watched blood run down Lisa’s upper lip; her nose was bleeding. It was cocaine. They had been on coke the whole tour. That’s why George wants to leave with me, Izzy realized. That’s why he wants to run away together. 

“You have to tell us what happened,” Olivia said.  

“Three years ago today, my aunt, Lydia’s mom, died in a car crash,” Izzy said. She felt the words fly out of her mouth faster and faster, like water through a crack in a dam. “I wanted to go to this restaurant for my birthday, and I never asked for anything much, so my mom agreed to take us after we went to the beach that morning. It was a drive—we had to drive to get there. She was so beautiful, my aunt. And I don’t mean the way she looked. She made everything beautiful. Lydia is her daughter 100%. She was so kind, and so incredibly smart—she knew everything about everything. All the constellations, the names of every plant and flower. She got a degree in astronomy. She worked at the university. She stayed close by: that was her compromise. She would stay close by and help her mom, my grandmother, run the store. So my mom could work somewhere else. And then she died. And my grandmother died of a heart attack two weeks after,” Izzy was aware that her face was wet. She explained that this is how she got stuck.

She cleared her throat and continued: “I didn’t know it would be more painful to watch my mom’s heart break than it was to feel my own break, but it was.”

Izzy had been on the stage, but she woke up in the grass, next to Harry, as she finished her last sentence. She was wearing his jacket. She drew it around her and put the sweater—that odd woman’s sweater—across Harry’s chest. Harry watched her intently.

“‘M sorry,” he said. He looked different, but familiar somehow. Izzy couldn’t place it. His voice was softer. “I’m sorry that happened to you. To you and Lydia.”

“Thanks, Harry.” Izzy said. In the face of tragedy, even the worst people could be kind.

“Wha’ else?” Harry said.

Izzy closed her eyes. She could hear the jangle of the car keys; she wanted to plug her ears.

“There’s more. That wasn’t the whole thing, was it?”

Izzy shook her head. Images from that morning played in her mind. She tried to stuff them down, but they wouldn’t go down.

“Tell me,” Harry said.

“I—I was supposed to drive. I was supposed to be the one driving. I had gotten my license the year before. I had been practicing for a year, a whole year. I knew the tricky intersection. We had just been on the beach and were supposed to go to the restaurant from there.”

Harry waited. Izzy saw a flash of Lydia’s glitter nail polish in that morning’s sunlight.

“But Lydia wanted to drive. She just got her learner’s permit and she was so proud. She loved tearing around the city with her friends, picking them all up and dropping them all off, me in the passenger’s seat, blasting music with all the windows down. She asked if she could drive.”

The wind blew leaves over them. They couldn’t hear the party anymore.

“And I let her. I let her drive.” Izzy could just barely get the words out. She was whispering.

Izzy saw Lydia’s 17 year old hand open in front of her, chipped glitter nail polish on from the pervious weekend glinting in the summer sunlight. She watched herself place the heavy car keychain in her palm. Lydia’s fingers closed around it before Izzy had even let it go.

“We were t-boned when she made a left turn, coming from the other way. The driver was checking his messages. I blacked out, but she was awake. I woke up in the hospital. It wasn’t her fault, but she thinks it’s her fault because I let her drive. And that’s why she ran away. And didn’t finish school and—”

“And you think it’s your fault because you let her drive.”

“I know it’s not her fault. She’s trying to fix my whole life by bringing me here but it should be the other way around. She got this insurance payout, from her mom, in her name, and I’m worried that she’s spending it all away. What will she do when the tour is over? If I had taken better care of her…”

“But it’s neither, Izzy. Neither of you is responsible. It’s just that other driver, if anyone. I think that if either of you were driving—anybody in the car—the same thing might have happened.” There was so much pain in that might; all the misery in her life hung upon it.

Izzy was watching herself from a distance. She saw Lydia skip toward the car, her mom clapping her hands together, saying “be careful. No music.” She just wanted to put her arms around herself, her and Lydia.

“The same thing would have happened. You said it was a long light, right?” Harry asked. He sounded far away. “So even if the other one had gotten there 30 seconds before or la’er, you would have still met that car when you got into the intersection.”

Izzy could see herself doing the best she could, sitting under that tree in the graveyard just days later. She had just been trying not to make her mom feel any worse, so she tried to cry alone. She didn’t want to burden anyone—it wasn’t that she was cold, refusing to reach out, refusing to take care of people. She was trying to help them, help them by not asking anything of them. Helping them in the best way she knew how. Maybe it wasn’t all her fault.

Izzy felt light, as if she were made of paper. She lifted her arms up and put them back down. She felt like she was floating above the grass. She turned; Harry was still there. Her vision was clearer, now. She could see the stars above her, too. Harry’s face came into focus, green eyes glinting hard through his thick lashes. She hadn’t really noticed them before.

“And you,” Izzy said. “I can see you.”

“Not really,” Harry said. “You’re so high.” He sounded tired.

“There’s more with you, too. What are you hiding?”

Harry took a deep breath and said nothing.

“I know we don’t get along, but you can talk to me,” Izzy continued.  

“Magari,” Harry sighed. If only it were true.

“Who...?"

“Jess taught me. She said you taught her.”

“I really like Jess,” Izzy said. If this was an olive branch, Harry couldn’t wrap his hands around it.

Izzy tried again. “Tell me one truth. Anything.” 

“One?”

“Anything.” 

“I almost became an addict,” Harry said. “Early on. I was using pretty often.” 

“Easy enough to do when you become famous that young. I’d be hard pressed to say that’s your fault.” 

“Eddie is the one that pulled me out.” 

“Eddie’s pretty great,” Izzy said. 

“It’s easy to get addicted, Izzy. At first it’s a bump before each show...” 

Everything Izzy knew about addiction, she knew from A Star is Born; she was lucky in that way. That movie, and now, maybe Lydia. “I’m not going to run away with George, Harry,” Izzy said. “I think I can help him. I’ve never... aside from tonight, I haven’t tried any of that stuff.” 

“That’s good,” Harry said. 

“I don’t think it’s your fault that you started using before,” Izzy said. “You were a kid.” She was surprised; he always seemed way too proud to come close to admitting any sort of vulnerability. 

“Yeah,” he said. 

“Tell me another truth.” 

Harry laughed. “Another?”

“Anything,” Izzy said. 

“Alright,” Harry said. His voice was lower, closer. “Only because you're out of your mind right now and won’t remember any of this tomorrow.”

He turned away from her momentarily. Izzy thought she saw his cheeks turn red. 

“You going to tell me?” Izzy said. 

He didn’t turn back. 

“I’ve never been in love with anyone,” Izzy said. In a lower voice, she added: “At least not someone who loved me back.” She was thinking about Roger, and the sort of infatuation she had with him, which definitely wasn’t returned. 

Harry turned back. His smile was gone. 

“Wha' about George?” Harry asked. Izzy shook her head. 

“Not yet, anyway. I really like him, though. And I think I can help him. Sometimes I wish I was more like Lydia,” Izzy said. “Taking everything so lightly. I don’t think she’s ever been in love either.” 

Harry smiled painfully and stood up, leaving Izzy with his jacket. He explained that he was going back to the hotel, and Izzy said that she wanted to stay in the garden. She felt the vines twist around her arms again, and the stars above her were spinning. As Harry walked away, Izzy could see the tour ending. She could see herself renting an apartment with roommates, with another job that wasn’t at the store.

Izzy drew out her phone. Two more missed calls from Meg. She put the phone to her ear, and it was suddenly ringing to her home number, but she didn’t remember dialling. Her mom still had a landline.

Izzy left a message: “Hi mom. It’s me, Izzy. I’m with the band in Austin. It’s so beautiful here. We’re going to Chicago next, then California. I wanted you to know that I love you. And the accident isn’t your fault. It’s not your fault for going to the restaurant, for anything. I’m sorry I hid myself away after it happened. I didn’t want to burden you. I didn’t know how to help you. I’m sorry. Don’t worry about me. I’m happy now. I love you.”

Izzy felt herself floating up and away from the garden. She felt so serene. Unburdened. She fell asleep on the grass in that floating feeling, wisteria petals in her hair, smelling jasmine.  

chapter11

[unclevladscorner]

Book Review/Analysis- The Orchid and the Lion

It took me a while to get through this book, but HOLY MOLY was it a good read.

Before I start- this is a highly sexually explicit novel. At it's core, it's a dystopian sci-fi, but it's also a book about relationships, queer community, sex work, and BDSM.

The plot largely revolves around Dorian Vidales and Laith Ritter. Dorian is a genderqueer gay man, fem Dom and the star sex worker at La Vie Boheme- The premier brothel on the James Baldwin space station. Located halfway between Earth and Mars, the station is a haven for LGBTQIA+ people and others who've fled oppressive Purity Laws on Earth.

Laith Ritter is a newly arrived transplant. He travels to the space station in hopes of building a new life for himself, and he hopes to connect to a relative who mysteriously dies just before the novel opens. The story largely revolves around the dual plot lines of Laith's training to be a professional sub and the investigation into the murder of his uncle, Sam Beecher.

Laith essentially lies on his resume when applying to work at La Vie Boheme, saying he's comfortable with many sex acts he's never heard of. Dorian is put in charge of Laith, and given a month to train him. Dorian; while attracted to Laith, has a difficult time with the unfamiliar feelings of falling head over high heels for the man he's now tasked to train. The budding romance is fraught with challenges as each man has their own baggage, none more so than Dorian himself.

The high points are very high, and the low points are very low. For a debut novel, Gabriel Hargrave knocks it out of the gods-damned park. I would give this book a million and one stars if I could, I think it's that great. This is going to be a long talk, dissecting some of the themes and plot of the book. WARNING: There will be spoilers ahead!

First off, I am super grateful that all the sex depicted in the book is fully consentual; and while there are moments of violence, they are handled in ways that did not trigger my own PTSD. This is a rarity for me, and I'm always glad when I can get through a sometimes difficult read without feeling re-traumatized.

I feel like the characters are portrayed in a raw, but dignified light. Dorian is a mess, he masks his feelings from himself and has an incredibly difficult time accepting both loving another person and having that love returned. Laith is relatively well composed on the outside, but he harbors deep trauma from both his military service and his years on Earth living as a stealth transgender man.

That being said, all the characters in the book feel very real and well rounded. Their hopes, dreams, trauma, and motivations all read with deep emotional sincerity. Even at Dorian's worst, I deeply sympathize with him b/c he genuinely believes he cannot be loved, and he feels the need to self sabotage his new relationship at various points for various reasons.

Laith is also deeply compelling. Hiding behind a mask of calm composure, his emotional armor is different but very parallel to Dorian's own. He finds freedom and acceptance in Dorian's training. Dorian; in spite of his objections, wants the best for Laith and never does anything without consent and regular safety checks.

Laith starts the book very ambivalent about his choice to become a sex worker, and ends the book surrounded by a family of friends and love he'd never dreamed of before. Shy at first, he slowly opens up to Dorian, the trust they build feels both unbreakable and all too fragile as the two men navigate one another's fears and trauma.

Laith's ability to have agency over his own body; to name it and refer to it in terms he's comfortable with, and to choose how in what way he has sex (Which is admittedly a LOT of ways lololol), is deeply satisfying. I feel like even in the realm of transmasculine penned works, trans men and transmasculine bodies are still often filtered through a cis feminine lens. This book; and Experience Points By N. A. Melamed, are two I've read that I deeply connect with as the authors embrace their own deeply personal trans experiences to pen very real feeling and authentic transmasculine characters. It makes me feel seen and proud of my own transmasculine body, emotional scars and all.

In spite of everything that happens, Laith and Dorian's deep bonds keep them together through both internal and external conflicts. The love between them is raw and and feels delicate at times; but in spite of this, they find a way to navigate the difficult situations they find themselves in and back to one another in a very deeply real way.