#she is such a complex beast in my mind

[salempie]

Hi! Thank you so much for the feedback about my Elka art! I really appreciate it. And now the question : What would Elka's mental world look like? I was wondering what you could suggest about this. It always seemed to me that the symbol of her world would be a mirror

Well actually my boyfriend and I had an idea for Elka's brain world we called "Elka's Ever-after!" I need to write down some big document for all the ideas we had about it but for now [should put a tw for like, idk, I think Elka would be an alcoholic as an adult. Theres a vague reference to that here? I mean Bobs Bottles exists so--]

It was a little 50s sitcom-type world, all in black-and-white and such, complete with it's own laugh track! Mostly it would be a representation of the "perfect" life she had always wanted for herself (the one she had pictured in all her years chasing after Nils and their predestined relationship (that as a child she conveniently ignored meant it was doomed to fail)), all with its own dandy Nils stand in, "The Husband," and their two darling regret children. The "plot" of the brain world (in the sense that, if someone were to go into it the "goal" of the world in order to "fix her issues") would be to disrupt this, although perfect, entirely fabricated life Elka, or rather "The Housewife," had made for herself.

The Housewife is stuck in a miserable marriage she pretends is perfect, but the signs are there. The cigarettes, the empty bottles, the constant misfortune written on the calendar on the fridge, the non-stop bad news on the television and the radio and the newspapers. It's obvious things are bad. But Elka is too proud, and far more than that, too resigned to what she sees as her predestined fate to even attempt to change anything. So she just tries to make sure everyone else thinks it's all as perfect as she always told them it would be, even in her own brain world.

She cant change the miserable future her visions showed to her, so why bother even trying? She feels helpless. Her visions are more in control of her own life than she is. There's a lot that I'm skipping for the sake of not rambling on and on, but the end of her world, I think, would be set in her childhood home (rather than the "perfect" home The Housewife lives in.) A little child Elka sitting in the dark of her living room in front of her TV, playing her first vision on loop. The start of all her issues, the beginning of the end of any control she felt over her life. It's mentioned she has a vision of a puppy getting run over in the Li-Po doc and I take that as being one of if not her first vision, so of course she's upset. Giving her the remote to the TV would be symbolically showing her that she is in control, that she doesn't have to just do whatever her visions say, that she has a choice in her life, that she doesn't have to just watch it all happen.

Heart! I could go a LOT into the intricacies of how it all plays out (and I will if you'd like but it would just be a written play-by-play of how I think going through the world would be (complete with bossfights!) from the perspective of Kitty and Franke since they're the ones going through her mind in my and my boyfriends Au!), with all the symbolism and whatnot, but this answer is already long enough.

All in all I have thought about this a lot (,'. Though I do think mirrors could really be a big thing for her. A lot of her issues, including not feeling in control, I also think would stem from her mother treating her precognition as a parlor trick. I think she would see a lot of her mother in herself (and father too for that matter. I figure Barney is the one who cheated (though mostly because of Mable's unhealthy obsession with bad predictions, not that that is an excuse) and I also figure he and Elka were close due to them both being psychics and having their unique precognition. So him leaving would put a lot of strain on her.) and hate that, so mirrors could be a fantastic symbol of that.

[bayofwolves]

I’ve been obsessed, obsessed, obsessed with Raisha for a while now. I know you’ve said little things about her in the past and i want to know what’s up with her/Gerathon if you’d be willing to talk about it.

I really like Raisha as a character, too! We know so little about her, but in my opinion, she's one of the most fascinating characters in the series. Unfortunately, she meets a sad end in A Revised History of Erdas.

All we know about Raisha post-infection is that she was present at the final battle in The Burning Tide, still under Zerif's control and in pretty bad shape. She vanishes off the grid after that, never mentioned again, not even in the concluding montage of Great Beast summoners reuniting with their fallen spirit animals. My retelling offers some closure, but not the good kind.

In my version of events, Raisha is flanking Zerif when he emerges from the ship with his Great Beasts. Zerif, in an act of cruel irony, saw fit to keep Raisha by his side even in her mindless, infected state. Shane, up in the archers' keep with Abeke, hardly recognizes the girl who helped steal Halawir months earlier. Later, she reappears to restrain Abeke when Zerif brings the defeated Redcloak forces to the Wyrm. When the Wyrm is killed and the parasites lose their power, though, Raisha collapses to the ground and doesn't get back up. The Wyrm had pushed her finite body to an extent that it couldn't recover from. Many people and animals in Zerif's army are the same; their possession eventually killed them. The Wyrm was a child playing with toys, the mechanics of which it couldn't possibly understand. Thankfully for it, its parasites could go on controlling a body in the event of an untimely death. Indeed, Stead raises the possibility that Raisha had been dead for some time, and the parasite was only animating a corpse.

Like I've said before, I didn't do this out of dislike for Raisha or anything like that. She was ultimately another victim of Zerif -- a young, lonely, impressionable girl he took advantage of -- and didn't deserve anything that happened to her. I'll always support AUs where she is alive and well. In my eyes, though, her story was always meant to end in tragedy. By the time she realized her mistake and reached for the light, it was too late.

Gerathon, after reemerging in southern Zhong and feeling the loss of her human partner, disappeared into the brush and is currently at large. She is only an adolescent cobra at the moment, hardly a threat... but the Great Beasts are growing, and Gerathon's time will inevitably come again. (I like the idea of her becoming a maneater as she slowly regains her former size and power, terrorizing the locals and gaining a place in their legends.) Who knows how she feels about losing Raisha. I expect, under the excruciating pain that may one day drive her to madness, there is a sweet sense of relief.

[all-purpose-dish-soap]

71 / 2.1k / part 4 of shapeshifter familiars!141 tormenting witch!reader

nsfw; dubcon, group sex, predator/prey dynamics, degradation, manhandling, sex while on substances. also monsterfucking and sex pollen if you squint.

...

You're not stupid. You know fur won't save you. Their hunt is sweeter for prey that changes skin.

You'll pay for this. And they intend to make you pay in more than just blood--they want your fear, your pleasure, your vulnerability. Everything you've refused them until now.

You run until you reach the ancient chapel in the middle of the woods. Right as you reach the empty space where the front doors used to be, enormous paws slam into your back. The henbane's power ebbs. Your palm bleeds where glass shards remain embedded. The cracked stone steps, laced with overgrown brambles, press cold on your naked skin. Gaz's paws dig into your back as they shift into clawed fingers. You hear Soap's approach, too--the way he shifts halfway from crow to human as he lands behind you. The half-beast shape sharpens the look of starvation and lust in his bright eyes.

Gaz's claws dig into your shoulders as he flips you onto your back. You writhe as Soap's hands close around your legs and pull you between him and Gaz. Your body is human, but adrenaline and henbane trap your mind partway between animal instinct and human nerves. Your body is hot and your cunt swells and glistens as their rough hands grip you, squeeze you, drag you away from the entrance of the holy sanctuary, and spread you open over the forest floor. The chapel's crumbling walls loom over you, moonlight slicing through broken stained glass to paint your naked skin in fractured colors. You were so close.

Soap's claws carve crescent moons into your hips. "Think you're clever, aye?" His hand wraps around your throat and presses his thumb to your frantic pulse. "Playin' games with us."

Gaz pins your wrists above your head, his catlike pupils blown wide. Henbane still clouds his movements. He watches Soap spread your thighs. "She's dripping for it. Nothing better than a chase to make rabbits want to fuck."

Soap licks a stripe up your thigh and chuckles against your skin. "Knew you wanted to be caught. Should've stayed a rabbit. Och, but this is better," he groans against your skin, cock already pressing against your leg. "Fightin' us even when you're fucked raw on poison. Perfect."

The henbane twists everything--their snarls into hymns, the pain of being chased and held down into a perverse sacrament. With Gaz holding your wrists above your head and Soap holding your thighs apart, you're completely exposed. Your heartbeat makes your skin warm, makes it flush, and you know they can see how wet it makes you. Both sets of eyes are glued to your cunt.

You buck uselessly as your human pride compels you to fight. Then rabbit-like instincts compel you to lay still. Your throat is ragged from the chase.

Soap laughs. He splays his hand over your lower belly, pins you there, and leans mouthwateringly close to your cunt. From above your head, Gaz leans over you upside-down and drags a messy, open-mouthed kiss up your sternum. "Poor creature."

"Should've known she'd like this. Witch with a martyr complex. Gets off on being punished."

"Could've let the villagers take you," Gaz croons. "Would've paid good coin to watch 'em try to torture our witch. Bet you'd rut against their stakes just to feel something."

You feel Soap's breathy chuckle against your core and jerk. He holds you fast. "Could've just tied her spreadeagle to the old tree, aye? Let the whole village watch us fuck her. Ghost can have first go."

"Now that's just cruel."

Their cruel words braid into praise in your henbane-fogged mind. Soap licks a hot stripe through your folds, and your back arches against your will. He chuckles again, breath fogging your wetness. "Think she'll come on my tongue before Price gets here? Five silver coins says she screams."

Gaz's free hand pulls your head back to expose your throat. "Ten says she bites like a hare."

You writhe, but Gaz's grip is iron. Soap's mouth seals over your clit and sucks hard enough to blur your vision. Your thighs tremble. The pleasure is a serrated knife sawing through your weak resistance.

"Fuckin' starved," Soap growls against your cunt. His fingers spread you wider to lap harder at your clenching hole.

They move in tandem. Soap's tongue fucks into you, long and relentless, while Gaz’s hand angles your face toward himself. Gaz laps at your mouth and the beads of sweat saturating your skin to take his fill. As Soap's claws dig into your hips, your body betrays you over and over--arching into their mouths, cunt and throat clenching around nothing. You writhe, but Soap pins you harder and harder with each lathe, grinding you against the moss until your thighs shake. The henbane amplifies every sensation--the drag of his tongue, the scrape of Gaz's stubble against your neck, the damp earth beneath you. Every rough touch ignites nerve endings you didn't know you had. Your vision blurs at the edges. Rabbit instincts scream for you to submit even as your hips lift greedily for more.

Gaz releases your hair to palm your breast. "Slow down, Soap. Price'll skin us if we don't leave some fresh."

Soap's obscene groans vibrate through your core. He pulls back, lips glistening. "Better get here faster if he wants some, then. Him and Ghost both."

You moan at the loss of contact. Your hips chase his mouth, and his self-restraint snaps.

"Nah, fuck 'em." He flips you onto your stomach, yanks your hips up, and pushes a finger inside you eagerly. Anything to get you wetter. "Let 'em hunt for themselves."

You're so high and dizzy, cheek pressed to the broken stone below, that it takes you a few seconds to notice when Gaz runs his hands up your arms, over your shoulders, and cups your jaw in his hands.

"Beg," he says softly. "Beg your servants to fuck you."

You whine as he lifts your front half up to kiss you. He practically cradles you in his arms--protective, but completely unyielding--and slips his tongue into your mouth to devour all he can.

You squirm and gasp around his tongue. The command surprises you enough that your humanity--your pride as a witch--surface over the instinct to submit. You sink your canines down on his invading tongue.

Gaz pulls back with a hiss. His eyes narrow and his pupils slit.

Soap laughs. "That's ten to you, then. Rabbits do bite, don't they?"

Gaz ignores him. His grip tightens around your jaw. He takes your mouth in another searing kiss that lasts until your lungs burn and you taste his blood in the back of your throat. He holds you captive there and enjoys the way Soap's finger-fucking forces your desperate moans into his mouth. Then he pulls back.

"Good rabbits," he growls, "know when to play dead."

Gaz's hand fists in your hair and yanks your head back. It forces a deeper arch into your back just as Soap slips a second finger into your cunt. You clench around the inclusion. God, it feels to good. You've been so careful, looked over your shoulder, smudged sage into every dark corner. So much tension, protecting yourself the way you need to, and nowhere to channel it. Even lying awake at night in your house, gritting your teeth and thumbing tight circles around your own clit, the release wasn't enough. Wasn't even practical. The animal in you never left; it only slept.

Soap's fingers curl inside you, calluses scraping your walls. He chuckles. "Greedy."

Gaz chuckles, too, at the sounds you're making. "Chatty."

Your back arches further as Soap adds a third finger. He stretches you ruthlessly. Gaz's other hand drifts down to circle your clit, fingers pressing hard enough to make your thighs twitch and shake.

"Look at her," Soap rasps. "Fightin' for more. Fuckin' made for this."

Ghost's howl rolls through the trees. A warped distortion of an owl's screech calls back in response.

"Price is coming," Gaz says.

Soap withdraws his fingers with a lewd schlick. He drags you upright and presses his chest against your back. "Better get our fill first, then."

Gaz spreads your legs wide. "Hold her open."

Soap grips your thighs as Gaz lines himself up. His cock drags through your slick--teasing at first, and then slow and rough with sudden hunger. You can't remember how to form words. Just as well--if you spoke, you'd only beg him to take you. So much for pride.

Then Price's shadow falls across all three of you. He descends from the trees as something resembling a screech owl--but larger, older, something that blurs your vision at the eddges with instinctive fear. But by the time he lands atop the leaf litter, his talons have already morphed into boots, and his enormous wingspan is gone.

"Having fun, boys?" Price's voice is venomously calm. "While I track our wayward witch through three miles of cursed thicket?"

Soap doesn't lift his eyes from his new view down your body. "Just securing the kill, Cap'n. Didn't you hear our signal?"

A lie. "Move."

Soap sighs and wipes his glistening chin. "That's five more coin."

He pulls away, but before he can withdraw--if he intended to at all, still eying you with hunger--Ghost is there. He grabs Soap by the neck and hurls him away as easily as a sack of cats. Soap skids across the moss, leaving furrows in the earth.

Ghost doesn't pause to see him react. He pins your hips down with a hand the size of your face. Gaz watches from above you with careful eyes as Ghost's claws divot your skin as he leans down. Gaz glances at Price, but wisely does not stand in the way.

Soap straightens up casually. "She's high as fuck on henbane, LT. Go easy."

The divots under Ghost's claws deepen. "No."

He replaces Soap's mouth with his own. The difference is immediate. Brutal. Where Soap languished, Ghost devours. His tongue spears into you, thick and unrelenting, fucking and scooping into your cunt with the same merciless rhythm a wolf would use to feed. You choke on a sob, heels digging into the loam.

Price's hand fists in Ghost's hair and yanks his head back. "Enough. She's not some tavern whore to be ruined before the main event."

Ghost licks your slick from his lips, gaze burning into yours. "Could be."

"Later." Price steps over you, boot between your splayed thighs. "Up. Now."

They haul you upright. Your legs buckle. Gaz catches you and bands his arm around your waist. You try to stand, leaning into him, but you're struggling to remember how. The sudden movement blurs your vision and your body aches from the chase and from the torment of pleasure still thrumming through your muscles.

The threshold of the church--holy ground--looms so close, still. Then, to your shock, Price crosses over that threshold. Right into the old hallowed church.

Your breath hitches. "How--?"

The chapel gives an echoing groan. "Sacrilege," Price mutters. He glances up at the half-collapsed rafters. "Good."

He turns, backlit by moonlight pouring through the broken windows. His shadow stretches long and strange across the altar. "You really thought a pile of crumbling stones could keep us out?" He taps the tattoo on his inner forearm--your mark, seared into his flesh the night you bound them. "We go where you go, darling. Even into God's own house."

Gaz's hand slides up your ribs and plucks at your nipple. "You're ours down to the marrow, love. Nowhere holy enough to change that. But we admire the effort. Running, hiding, getting us good and hungry." His too-sharp teeth graze the shell of your ear.

He pulls your head sideways to expose the scarred sigil behind your own ear. The one you branded there the night you summoned them.

Price unbuttons his coat. "You bound us. Fed us. Let our filth seep into your bones." His belt buckle clinks open. "Now you'll take your communion. Ghost," he commands. "The altar. Bind her."

Ghost pulls you out of Gaz's arms. Your fuzzy, drug-addled brain struggles to keep pace. Then the cold bite of iron shackles snaps shut around your wrists, chaining you to the marble surface of the altar. Ancient restraints meant for darker rites.

Soap whistles low. "Harsh even for you, LT."

Ghost stands. "Witch needs to learn her place isn't in the dirt." His boot nudges your spread thighs wider. "It's on her back."

...

← part 3 / [part 4] / part 5 ➡

more Price / more Ghost / more Soap / more Gaz / masterlist

[gotta-winwin]

b(a)d chemistry | j.ww

⭐ starring: jeon wonwoo 💌 genre: fluff/crack | wc: 2.2k 💬 preview: he had brown eyes that looked up at you from behind black-rimmed frames and a voice that scolded your intelligence so infuriatingly right.

cw/tw: chem major! wonwoo x lit studies! reader, sassy man apocalypse, crack, a lot of swearing

🪽fic rating: pg 13 ☁️ masterlist & a/n: i’m writing this in the library with my brightness all the way down. no shame. (maybe just a little shame). the great gatsby x wonwoo agenda is going to haunt every narrative i ever write :)) thank you to @gyubakeries for betaing!

now playing: she by harry styles, the way i loved you by taylor swift, party 4 u by charli xcx

this is an addition to my 500 followers event: click here to read the masterlist!

If heaven was for real, you thought it must look something like him. 

He had brown eyes that looked up at you from behind black-rimmed frames and a voice that scolded your intelligence so infuriatingly right. His fingers emphasized each page flip and his lips pursed against the side of his pencil, eyebrows furrowed with intense concentration and deep seeded fury. 

Jeon Wonwoo was a beast in the classroom and it made your wandering mind wonder how that passion might translate in bed.

“That’s wrong.” He always said it so simply, as if your mistakes were simply unsurprising and a fact. “Change it.”

You roll your eyes. There was a reason Wonwoo was still single despite being one of the most revered guys in your university, and it was because no one had yet to stand their ground when facing his stupid superiority complex and lack of tact. 

“This is dumb.” You poke at your test papers with the butt of your pen, slumping further down your seat. “Why do I have to take chemistry anyways? We’re not even in the same department.” 

He raised an eyebrow at your complaints. “You’re the one who signed up for the week-long major switch experiment.” 

Right. You let out a louder groan than the last. “Boooo..”

Wonwoo laughs, and your lips quirk into a suppressed smile.

“You won’t be laughing when it’s your turn. You swapped with me, remember? I’m a lit major.” 

Wonwoo pales. “I forgot about that.” 

There’s a shared smile that passes between the two of you, as if you were trading some silent understanding of a joke. He’s awfully pretty when he smiles. 

Wonwoo slaps your test paper and it jolts you out of your bubble of bliss. “Back to work, rookie. Your values are still wrong.” 

Never mind. He’s definitely heinous and ugly on the inside.

You watch his glasses slip down his nose. He looks so awfully pretty asleep. 

Shaking your head, you reach over to remove it, placing it on the table in front of him and returning back to your workbooks. 

Five hours later and chemistry was still gibberish to your eyes. 

“Hey, Y/N.” Seokmin stops at your table on his way out of the library, arms ladened with his own workbooks. You vaguely remember that he had switched majors with Seungkwan, trading in his music major for environmental science. It had to be some sort of sheer luck that the two had been paired together, for you knew both boys would succeed at either major anyway. 

“Hi Seok.” You smile lazily his way, glancing at the sleeping Wonwoo next to you. He had not stirred. 

“How’s the swap going?” 

You snort. “I hate chem. And Wonwoo’s berating is not helping.” 

“He’s just trying to help in a way he knows how to.” Seokmin defends the classroom beast and you realize you’ve forgotten that they’re actually pretty good friends.

“I don’t know how you put up with him, Seok. I’ve only been alone with him for less than a day and I want to rip my eyeballs out. Or his eyeballs, I don’t know yet.”

Seokmin laughs. “You’re funny.” He starts walking towards the exit, looking back at you with a smile on his face. “Good luck! Maybe finally having someone smarter than you will do you some good.” 

You’re offended, but you know he jests. “He is not smarter than me!” You protest. “I’m smarter than him, the fuck?” 

You fail to notice Wonwoo’s eyebrows furrowing in his sleep, his lips parting to counter your remark before closing again. 

“Good.” You give your sleeping project partner one last glance before returning to the stupid chemistry question. “Still sleeping. I hope it stays that way.” You mumble the last part mostly to yourself, your eyes already glazing over from the word problem. “Why is Sally mixing so many fucking liquids, just drink water or something.” 

Wonwoo snorts in laughter but passes it off as a snore. He peeks an eye open. You look awfully pretty when you’re frustrated. 

Wonwoo swears he’s not looking at you in an obsessive way. He insists it’s a perfectly normal way to be looking at someone, ignoring how it definitely feels more like a stare than a look. 

You’re hunched over the latest book in your repertoire, pen scratching whatever thoughts down in the margins. 

“Quit it.” Mingyu bumps his shoulder to catch his attention. “You’ll scare her. Hell, you’re scaring me.” 

“Shut up.” He ignores his friend and continues to look. You’re too engrossed in the novel to register his stares anyways. “I bet it’s some stupid book about yearning for love and way too much making out.” 

Mingyu rolls his eyes. “It’s about some guy who throws parties every night hoping one girl might show up.” For a sports major, Mingyu knows a surprising amount about books. 

Wonwoo frowns at the idea. “That’s dumb.” 

“Yeah.” 

He forces himself to look away, staring down at the sandwich in his hands instead. 

“You’re kind of doing that though. Don’t pretend like you didn’t beg Professor Choi to partner the two of you together so you could speak to her. You hate literature.” Mingyu smirks. “You know I’m fucking right.” 

“Shut the fuck up, bro.” 

You see Wonwoo smile a real smile for the first time when you show him your chemistry test grades. 

“Holy shit.” He grabs the papers from you, pushing his glasses up as if it could change the score he was seeing. 

“It’s good, right?” 

He smiles, and it’s one that’s full of teeth and so unguarded. “Yes. You did so well. I can’t believe-” He shuts up the moment he realizes he’s rambling. 

You point a finger at his face, the brightest expression on your face. “You were happy for me. You’re happy for me. You fucking smiled.” It’s a bigger win for you than the actual test score. 

He grabs the hand still pointing in his face and gently pushes it down. “Shut up.”

“Admit it.” You pester on. “Admit you’re happy for me.” 

“I’m happy you didn’t fail miserably.” 

“Shut the fuck up, Jeon.” You laugh when he grimaces. “You–”

His heart lurches because– just for a second– he thinks you’re about to say you’re in love with me. And you’d be right. 

“--smiled.” 

His shoulders sink along with his heart. 

He looked so awfully pretty happy. And you looked so awfully pretty when you were annoying him. 

You look at Wonwoo and realize you can see a future with him. He no longer enrages you with just one glance. You see him and he looks awfully boyfriend shaped. 

You mime a gag at the thought and he turns to look at you. 

“You good?” 

You nod. “Yeah, fine.” 

He’s mindlessly playing with the pages of the book you had given him. “Do I really have to read this? You know I’m going to ace the exam either way.” 

You frown. “You don’t read for the exam, you read to read.” 

“That’s the dumbest thing you’ve said all day.” 

You know he means it as a joke, yet the words sting anyways. “That’s mean.” You tell him. 

“It’s true though. It’s just words.” He pushes the book back to you. “I’m not wasting time on this.” 

The future you saw shatters right before your eyes. You shove the book back towards him. “Why do I even bother?” 

He watches as you leave, your hair bouncing in the afternoon wind. He frowns. He’s always been the smartest in the room. He’s always known exactly what to say. Yet one look at you and he’s rendered as dumb as any other guy. 

He hears you talking about him to his friends the next day. Mingyu has his hand around your waist, and although he knows how close you are with his roommates, it still rubs him the wrong way. 

He figures it hurts him more than usual because he knows he has no right to be feeling any sort of ownership towards you. 

“He’s an idiot.” He hears you complain to Seokmin and Mingyu. 

They nod solemnly. “It’s been known.” 

He fights the urge to roll his eyes. He hated when you insulted his intelligence. 

“And we all know I could’ve aced that chem test without him.” 

Now you were just lying. Wonwoo frowned at your words. 

“You know he’s hopelessly in love with you.” Mingyu tells you, and Wonwoo lets out a low groan. 

You roll your eyes. “Right. And Professor Choi’s in love with Professor Yoon.” 

“Yeah, that actually happened.”

Wonwoo ignores your shocked expression, cranking up the music blasting in his ears. It drowns out whatever Seokmin was enthusiastically telling you, his arms waving passionately in the air. 

Wonwoo knows you’d never love him back. He’s not that much of an idiot. 

His resolve breaks on the third day. Wonwoo’s confronted with the fact that he misses your usual bickering and the way you’d glare at him from behind your computer screen. He misses the sound of your nails clacking on the keyboard, how they’d grow more furious the more frustrated you became with him. He missed riling you up. But most of all, he missed those rare moments where you’d put your rivalry aside and smile at him in a way that made him believe– for a split second– that you could love him. 

Wonwoo finishes the book you gave him in two days. It would have taken him half the time, if it hadn’t been for the time he had taken to read your handwriting in the margins. 

It was the book Mingyu had been talking about, the book he had watched you read in the school courtyard that one time. 

“Angry, and half in love with her, and tremendously sorry, I turned away.” 

He liked that line, and the things you had written in the margins on the side. There is beauty in conversing in a language only two can understand. To the world it looks like fighting, to them it feels like finally finding a worthy opponent. 

Wonwoo can’t help but feel as if the whole novel was one long love letter from you, to him. 

“Y/N!” 

You turn to face him. Your body reacts to his voice despite your brain telling you not to. “What do you want, Jeon?” 

He pushes a battered copy of The Great Gatsby into your hands. Your copy. 

“I finished.” He’s a little breathless as he speaks, looking at you for a reply. 

“I thought–” 

He doesn’t let you finish. “I’m sorry. I was crass. And rude. And I’ve always been a little pretentious.”

“Yes, you have.” You turn to walk past him, but he steps in front of you, blocking your path. 

“Let me finish.” His brown eyes plead with yours, and you relent. 

“I’ve always been those things, you know that. You’ve called me out for it since preschool. But it doesn’t change the fact that you’re the only person I can spar with word for word. You throw my shit back harder and witter and the only time I truly feel alive is when I’m with you. Yes, I’m mean. I’m rude. I make fun of you all too much. But I-” 

He pauses. He can’t say it. That he loves you. 

“Read the book.” He says instead. “Please.” 

He looks awfully pretty begging. 

things i wish i said

god, i have a lot of that

got a bad habit of shoving my foot in my mouth

when i’m around you

like my mind’s spinning far too fast 

i swear i’m not usually like that

i wish i had told you how much i cared 

in such a way that made me fear

wish i had taken a moment to explain to you my mind

that i really do love you despite what it might look like

– that’s what i tell everyone

wish whatever i had to say you already knew

if you could hear exactly how i meant it

see exactly how i see you

feel the jumble of whatever i feel

when i said that i hated you

there were other things i left out

like the fact that i hate you because there was nothing else i could’ve felt

that would’ve made us make more sense 

that i really didn’t hate you, and my words were too harsh

i hated you cause i love you a little bit too hard

i hated the ten foot drop i feel when i see you

not you

i could never really actually hate you

Wonwoo sees you smile a real smile for the first time when you meet him for coffee after his literature exam.

You have an irritatingly smug expression on your face as you greet him. “I heard you failed your exam.” 

“Shut up.” He had failed his exam. “Words are not my forte, alright?”

“Look at that, Jeon Wonwoo, finally admitting he’s not good at something.” 

He laughs, and the sound echoes somewhere deep in your chest. “I guess I’m learning.”

“Nice juxtaposition in the poem, by the way.” You smile at him from behind your coffee mug. 

He frowns. “A what now?” 

You laugh and it feels like the fucking sun shining on his face. 

“I love you too, Jeon. Even if it was a shitty ass poem.” 

He smiles. It’s unguarded and full of teeth. 

[d-targaryenshoe]

Eternal Hope - Anthony Bridgerton

Word Count: 2053

Summary: When one's best friend tells you a rather complex secret about your husband, doubts start to take over your mind, am I right?

You and Anthony Bridgerton were the perfection of an ideal couple, your marriage a testament to the power of love and commitment. 

You were a vision of innocence and purity, your heart as untainted as the snow that covered the ground on your wedding day.

 He was the embodiment of devotion, his every action a reflection of his deep affection for you. To the outside world, you were the picture-perfect duo, your lives a fairytale come true.

 But your best friend, Philipa Featherington, knew better. Her family had seen Anthony Bridgerton in his younger days before he had met you and settled down.

 Back then, he had been known as quite the rake, a man who was more interested in the pleasures of the flesh than in finding true love. 

Despite his charming exterior, there was something dark and dangerous lurking beneath the surface.

It was this knowledge that made Philipa feel a mixture of awe, envy, and a tiny thread of worry for you, her friend.

One afternoon, as the two of you sat in the parlor, sipping tea and enjoying the warmth of the sun, Philipa decided to share the past with you. 

"You know, y/n," she began, her voice low and conspiratorial, "I sometimes wonder how you ever managed to tame that wild beast of a man." 

Philipa nodded towards the golden ring on your finger. "Before you came along, Anthony was quite the scoundrel."

Your eyes widened in surprise. "Philipa, I cannot believe that you would say such a thing about my husband!" you exclaimed. "Anthony is the most loving, attentive man I could ever hope for!"

Philipa smiled sympathetically, knowing that you meant every word you said. But she also knew that there was more to the story than you realized. 

"Yes, yes," she said, waving her hand dismissively.

 "Of course, he is different now. But you must remember that everyone here has known him for years, and some saw firsthand the things he used to do. He could be quite ruthless, y/n. He never cared about anyone's feelings but his own."

Your brow furrowed in confusion. "Are you sure you're not overstating?" you asked hesitantly. "Anthony has always been so kind to me."

Philipa looked you in the eye. "I wish I were," she said simply. 

"But the truth is, Anthony Bridgerton was once a very different man. And while I'm glad that he's changed, and that you're so happy together, I can't help but wonder if you know who he is."

Your heart sank at your friend's words. You wanted to believe that Philipa was wrong, that Anthony could never have been anything but the devoted husband you knew now. 

But a tiny seed of doubt began to take root in your mind. Perhaps there was more to Anthony's past than you had realized.

"I-I don't know what to say," you stammered, your voice barely above a whisper. "I love Anthony with all my heart, and he loves me just as much. He's been nothing but faithful and kind since the day we met."

Philipa reached over and took your hand in hers. "I'm not saying that he isn't faithful to you now," she said gently.

 "But you must understand that the man you married is not the same man who was running through the streets of London, chasing after any skirt that crossed his path."

You bit your lip, trying to process everything your friend was saying.

You wanted to believe that Anthony was as innocent and pure as you were, but the memories of Philipa's stories kept creeping into your thoughts.

 Could it be possible that there was more to Anthony than you knew?

As you sat alone in the carriage, making your way home from your visit to Philipa, your heart felt heavy with doubt. 

The wind howled outside, and the horses' hooves clattered against the cobblestone streets, but you could barely hear any of it over the voice in your head.

 What if Philipa was right? What if Anthony had been dissatisfied with you in some way? 

You tried to convince yourself that it was ridiculous, that Anthony was the most loving husband a woman could ask for.

 But the thought lingered, refusing to be shaken off.

Your mind drifted back to the beginning of your courtship, when Anthony had been so attentive, always showering you with compliments and affection. 

He had made you feel beautiful and desirable in a way that no one else ever had. But then, as time went on, you began to wonder if perhaps he was growing bored with you. 

He had started spending more time at his club, and when he was home, he seemed distracted.

You tried to talk to him about it, but he always brushed your concerns aside, insisting that everything was fine.

You closed your eyes, the tears beginning to well up in their corners. It hurt you to think that Anthony might not find you beautiful anymore, that he might be seeking pleasure elsewhere. 

The thought made you feel so insecure, so unworthy of his love. As the carriage pulled up in front of your home, you forced a smile onto your face, trying to convince yourself that everything was going to be all right.

 But deep down, you couldn't shake the feeling that something wasn't quite right between you.

You climbed out of the carriage and hurried up the steps to your front door, your heart racing with anticipation and fear.

 Anthony was supposed to have returned home hours ago, but he hadn't come back yet.

You knocked on the door, your knuckles white from gripping the handle.

 When the butler answered, you forced a bright smile, trying to hide the turmoil within her.

 "Hello, Thomas," you said, your voice steady despite the pounding of your heart. "Is Lord Bridgerton inside?"

Thomas, ever the attentive servant, noticed something amiss in your expression. "I believe Lord Bridgerton is still at the club, Lady Bridgerton," he said gently. "Shall I send up a tray for him?"

You hesitated for a moment, your brow furrowing in confusion. 

"Yes," you managed to say, "that would be lovely. Thank you, Thomas." You turned and made your way upstairs to your bed chamber, your steps heavy with unease. 

You couldn't help but wonder what Anthony was doing at the club for so long, and why he hadn't come home yet. 

The thought of him with another woman, enjoying himself in ways he never seemed to enjoy with you, made your stomach churn.

You busied yourself with straightening the bedclothes and rearranging the pillows, trying to distract yourself from the growing ache in your heart.

 But as the minutes ticked by and Anthony still hadn't returned, your anxiety only grew worse. 

You couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong, that perhaps Philipa had been right all along. 

Maybe Anthony's past truly was catching up with you, and your marriage wasn't as strong as you had once believed it to be.

Finally, you heard the familiar sound of the front door opening and closing downstairs.

 Your heart leaped into your throat as you hurried over to the window, peeking out through the curtains.

 There he was, striding up the walkway, his shoulders squared and his head held high. He looked every bit the gentleman you had fallen in love with all those years ago.

 But as he ascended the stairs and disappeared from your view.

Your stomach was knotted with fear. You waited until you heard the butler announce his arrival before you made your way down the hallway, trying to compose yourself.

 When you finally stepped into the entryway, Anthony turned toward you, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "There you are, dearest," he said, his voice warm and affectionate. "I was beginning to wonder where you'd gotten off to."

Your heart sank even further. You forced a smile and walked toward him, trying to ignore the voice in your head that kept saying that this wasn't real, that he wasn't truly happy to see you.

 As you moved toward each other, you let yourself be enveloped in his embrace, breathing in his familiar cologne, feeling the strength of his arms around you.

 For a moment, you let yourself believe that everything was going to be all right.

"I was just waiting in the parlor, my lady," Thomas interjected, clearing his throat. "Shall I bring up the tray for Lord Bridgerton now?"

"Yes, please," Anthony said, stepping away from you. "That would be lovely, Thomas. Thank you." 

He turned back to you, reaching out to take your hand. "Come, my dear. Let's go eat in the privacy of our chamber. I have something I'd like to discuss with you."

Your heart skipped a beat. What could he possibly need to discuss? You forced another smile and allowed him to lead you up the stairs and into your bed chamber, following him like a nervous child as he took a seat at the table.

 He poured you each a glass of wine before sitting back in his chair, his gaze fixed on you.

 "Y/n," he began, his voice gentle but firm, "I need to talk to you about something."

Your stomach twisted into knots. "Okay," you managed to say, your voice barely audible above the pounding of your heart. "What is it?"

Anthony took a deep breath before continuing. "I love you, y/n. More than anything in this world. You are my wife, my partner, my best friend. But I've been feeling...disconnected from you lately. Like something is missing between us."

 He paused, searching your eyes for some sign of understanding. "I want us to be closer. More intimate. I want to feel the way I used to feel when I looked at you, the way I felt when we first met."

Your heart ached as you listened to his words. 

A part of you wanted to believe him, to believe that you could find your way back to the love you once shared. 

But another part of you couldn't help but wonder if it was all just an act if he was only trying to save face. 

You took a sip of your wine, trying to steady your nerves. "I...I want that too," you said, your voice trembling. "I want us to be closer, to feel connected again. But...I don't know how."

Anthony studied your face, his expression softening. 

"I think we need to be honest with each other," he said. "To share our fears and our desires. To...explore each other." He took a deep breath, his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat as he swallowed. 

"I want to make love to you, y/n. Not just tonight, but every night. I want to show you how much you mean to me, how much I desire you."

Your cheeks flushed at his words, your heart racing. A part of you wanted to believe that he meant it, that he wanted you the way he used to. 

But another part of you couldn't help but wonder if it was all just a ploy to ease his conscience, to make himself feel better about whatever it was he had been doing. 

You looked up at him, searching his eyes for some sign of truth.

"I'm...I'm not sure," you said finally, your voice barely more than a whisper. "I want to try, Anthony. I want us to try. But I need you to promise me that...that you'll always be honest with me. That you'll never keep anything from me."

He reached across the table, taking your hand in his. "I promise you, my love," he said solemnly. 

"I will always be honest with you. And I swear I will never keep anything from you. Not again." His grip on your hand tightened, and you could feel the warmth of his palm through your gloves. "I want this to work between us, y/n. More than anything."

You closed your eyes, trying to decide what to believe. Part of you wanted to believe him, to trust that he could change, that you could find your way back to the love you once shared. 

But another part of you was still so insecure, still so hurt by the betrayal. You took a deep breath, steeling yourself for whatever might come.

[robin-evry]

𝐓𝐖𝐒𝐓 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒𝐇𝐀 𝐘𝐔𝐔 🐇🏮

The new Cauldron Master of the Xianzhou Luofu's Alchemy Commission is one perceptive and intelligent Vidyadhara healer. With a keen sense of smell, she diagnoses ailments and calms minds with aromatic therapy. Adept at navigating complex social relationships, she can remain impeccably composed even when turmoil rages within.

Becomes nrc healer and official therapist using their incense to ease down their patient students nerves and anxiety.

As well being an alchemist cauldron master in the xianzhou, lingsha!yuu make sure everything goes well in class if, professor crewel is not present.

Due to Lingsha!Yuu vidyadhara genetics enhance their senses, they are able to smell things most normal species are unable to do. They are able to smell emotion, changes in the environment, ingredients and more.

During alchemy class they will prevent any accident just by smelling the air and immediately figure something gone wrong by smell. They and professor crewel would practice enhanced alchemy.

During the book one at lunch room grim always find ways to piss someone else or some people always get angry by something significantly small over an egg in carbonara when the students were about to strike grim fuyuan lingsha!yuu incense beast phased thru the students causing the student to pass out.

Since technically vidyadhara in hsr are draconic species descendants of long the aeon of permanence, that technically in my logic makes lingsha!yuu a dragon but minus the horns and tail which only appear for higher ranking vidyadhara.

Many people are unaware of lingsha!yuu being a vidyadhara most students believed they were a fae. Only Lilia and malleus have already knew of lingsha!yuu being a vidyadhara. As well since being a vidyadhara is not rare.

When meeting malleus he ask wheneve or not lingsha!yuu was a lóng because he was curious due to the magical energy he's detecting, and when lingsha confirms it and malleus questions why do they not possess horns or tails.

Malleus and Lilia are fascinated by the xianzhou alliance, the place is roaming with long species as well the vidyadhara culture wishing to see the water scourge to see it.

Vil respect and would seek lingsha!yuu knowledge over herbs and alchemy requesting for their skill for making the right chemicals for skin care and make up. As well how he loves how they are unshaken towards any situation always facing it with calmness and meticulous mind.

They prevent kalim from being poisonous once after smelling a curse being put on his food, lingsha!yuu body and job has caused her body to grow immunity to deadly effects caused by poison and curse leaving unaffected when drinking potions. So during vil over lot he released a toxic mist and lingsha!yuu was unaffected.

Lingsha!yuu is not the most capable in hand to hand combat but why would you learn hand to hand combat when you end the fight before it could start by knocking the enemy.

Mostly her strategy was to imply debuff or slow down the enemy for other heavy hitters to take it down while she stays back and support them behind.

They can levitate and grim would ask them to take him to class. Fuyuan and him would get in arguments causing lingsha!yuu to separate them

Fuyuan is very loyal towards lingsha!yuu since they were the ones that created him and made them his creator and master, he would help lingsha!yuu with alchemy by grabbing ingredients. As well protecting lingsha!yuu.

Since fuyuan is made by incense causing him to be able to split themselves and be in multiple clones making him also a tool for lingsha!yuu for scouting ingredients and stop from any incidents. As well function for lingsha!yuu eyes.

Crowley would ask lingsha!yuu for alchemy requests in exchange for an increase in payments, Crowley would try to negotiate saying that staying at nrc is enough payment from him but lingsha!yuu interjects that the elixir he wants costs expensive ingredients to make causing him with no choice to increase payments.

Not to mention Azul trying to trick lingsha!yuu towards a contract but lingsha!yuu would always be able to escape his grasp.

As well an appointment with lingsha!yuu is very expensive and need to book a month ahead to secure a spot and it won't still be guaranteed you will get a spot, lingsha!yuu use aromatherapy to calm down the minds of the anxiety full students. Some students would want to buy incense due to how effective it is.

Vil would casually buy some of lingsha!yuu incense due to how useful it is towards the body and mental state. Vil admits to himself that lingsha!yuu may be better at alchemy than him.

Lingsha!yuu also like to back hand compliment anyone they will roast you and they didn't even think about it being a roast, That's just them being an honest person.

Due to Lingsha!yuu having scarlet marks in her hands and feet they tend to wear gloves to protect them from chemicals and unwanted attention from others.

Lingsha!Yuu has many admirers, they are very etheral and graceful, They carried themselves with strict rules and principle even tho they would clash ideals with others they would not get their emotions in the way.

As well having a trait to appear from mist of red or metarelize from the incense they always has on hand, many people describe when lingsha!yuu would pass them they would immediately feel more calmer and have less anxiety.

[yourlittlegoblin]

{Awkwardly Yours} Cyno x Reader

Yall wish me luck that I don't suck at school. I need to be an academic weapon not an academic victim this year. Best of wishes to all my other fellow students and I will see you all in the next update!!

Cyno is down bad but like in his own awkward way

He tries to impress you with jokes, but half the time they’re so bad you don’t know whether to laugh or groan or crawl into a grave

“You must be a five-star card, because you’re always on my mind.” Cue him staring at you waiting for a reaction

When he realizes he has a crush, he just… stares at you for a solid minute like he’s trying to process a complex strategy

Tighnari and Kaveh notice immediately. Tighnari sighs. Kaveh just watches in secondhand embarrassment.

Oh and Alhaitham talks to you in front of him just to piss him off occasionally-

Anyways-

He accidentally gets way too competitive when playing TCG with you. If he loses, he acts normal on the outside but is internally spiraling. If he wins, he immediately regrets it because he wanted you to have fun

He lowkey starts gatekeeping you from other players. “Oh, you want to duel them? Are you sure? I mean, I could teach you better strategies…”

Oh shit I can see it in my head and it lowkey kinda making me grin like the little shit that I am

His love language is low-effort but endearing. He’ll place a Sumpter Beast plushie next to your usual seat at a card shop, claiming it “reserves” your spot

If you ever laugh at one of his puns, congratulations. You’ve made his entire week- no- year- fuck it you made his entire lifetime

One day, he blurts out, “You’re like my favorite deck.” You ask what he means, and he just mumbles, “Balanced… powerful… impossible to replace…” before practically speed-walking away

He starts "casually" showing up wherever you are. If you're at the Grand Bazaar, he's suddenly “on patrol.” If you’re at the Akademiya, he's "just passing through." Tighnari is this 🤏 close to staging an intervention

He offers to teach you how to play TCG, even if you already know. If you’re a beginner, he goes full mentor mode, explaining every mechanic with laser focus. If you’re experienced, he gets adorably flustered when you counter his moves

He may be a bit turned on if you win a couple times in a row

At some point, Dehya pulls you aside and just straight-up asks if you realize he likes you. When you say you’re not sure, she groans. “He literally lets you win in TCG. Do you know how serious that is?”

The moment he decides to confess, he goes full-on strategist mode

He plans everything meticulously… and then completely goes off the tracks by panicking at the last second

Ends up abandoning ship for the third time this month

His grand confession?

It happens over a TCG match. He carefully selects his cards, makes his move, then—without looking up—blurts out, “Would you like to go on a date with me?”

The silence that follows is so long he starts internally regretting everything. But the moment you say yes, he stiffens, nods very seriously, and then plays his next card like nothing happened

You question yourself after

Later when Tighnari asks how it went Cyno just crosses his arms and says “It was an easy victory.”

But internally? He’s fucking thriving

[yourmomsfavouritegirl]

Absorb and adore

Nika Mühl x football Reader

Warnings; mention of injuries, this shit is a bit emotional but nothing else i think..

A/N; this is kinda short i know but who will say no to a Nika fluff? Anyways I am just trying to write as quick as i can cause ain't no way i haven't posted in so long. Anyways I'll see y'all hopefully soon. Hope you enjoy!

Sweat dripping down. My head was pounding like crazy. Lights blinding me as i drove in to get the ball from Alisha. I made a swerve dodging a player trying to tackle me. I jumped up and received the ball heading for a touchdown. I could hear my heart in my ears. As i run down the field i managed to achieve the touchdown before falling down as i had just given us the win.

"YEAH MAN" i heard Alisha shout as i opened my eyes. We had done it. We won. "WE WON?!" I shouted in disbelief. "YEAH BABY. YOU SCORED US THE FINAL POINT MAN" She shouted helping me up. I laughed not believing this as she hugged me tightly. I took off my helmet to get some fresh air and looked out at the stands. Only to find her eyes staring at me with a huge smile. A grin made it's way to my face as she mouthed at me an 'i love you' making me blush a bit.

My team swarmed in circling me celebrating the win with all of our hearts. We laughed and danced together. We got the cup and took many pictures with it before shaking hands with my teammates. They picked me up and chanted all together since i had given us the winner. I laughed and told them to put me down before we all hugged eachother.

"So Anna tell us how do you think this game rolled out?" A journalist pulled me aside and asked. "Well this was a really tough game. The other team were all beasts on the field. I really am thankful that my team and i have a connection and understand what each one of us is going to do. Practically i think the reason we won is because of the special communication we all have" i said as the girl nodded. "Is there someone who you're willing to dedicate this win to?" She asked again and at that moment i looked at the stands. A smile made it's way to my face before replying "yeah. I don't need to say a name. She already knows who she is" dhe nodded once more and thanked me for my time before letting me go.

I looked at my team and all of them seemed like baby kids in a candy store. I chuckled at the sight. Everything seemed great but i wasn't at a place where i could celebrate on my full. Somewhere in the game i hurt my leg leaving me now limping my way to the locker room.

I got in and sat down before resting my head on my hands letting out a deep breath i was holding for a while. We had won and i was extremely happy about it. But my leg was hurting a lot and regret filled my mind as i thought it would've been better if i had told my coach.

My thoughts were soon interrupted as someone entered the room. I looked up and saw her standing next to the door. She was looking sympathetically at me. A proud smile on her face with a worried expression could be seen on her face.

With the same eyes i had fallen in love with she was now searching for clues. "Nika I-" i went to speak but she just shushed me and brought me in a tight hug. Her scent filled my nostrils as her grip tightened around my neck. "I know baby. I saw it" she whispered in my ear making me tear up a bit.

"I just wanna go back to the dorms. Please" i said and she nodded before helping me pack my things and headed to her car. We got in and drove to the dorm complex. She held my hand tightly every now and then caressing it with her thumb. It was something we did when we wanted to tell eachother that we love them silently. I smiled at the gesture before i kissed it softly and rested my head for a sec against it.

Soon we were on our floor opening the door to our dorm. I had showered in the lockers after the game so now all we had to do was sleep. I left my things on the floor near the bed before sitting down to take a deep breath. Nika soon came into the room sitting in front of me holding my hands. To be honest it hurt pretty bad. But I didn't know if it was a good idea to tell Nika that.

"Does it hurt that bad?" She asked worriedly. I nodded hesitantly in response. Truth is it wasn't just the pain that was killing me now. It was the fact that i couldn't celebrate freely with my teammates due to a stupid call i made.

A small smile appeared on my face at her reassuring words and I nodded agreeing with her. "Good. You want me to rub your shoulders? Help you relax a bit?" She asked as she smiled at me. "No no. I just want some soft scratches on the back. Just to put me to sleep" i answered and that's exactly what she did.

"It hurts pretty bad. But it's nothing serious. I'm probably just overreacting" i answered and looked at her in the eyes. A sign of worry was shown on her face trying to find something in my eyes. The naked truth i was afraid to say. Although almost immediately she understood why i was acting like this.

"They'll understand honey. You'll explain and they will understand. They love you. I love you. There's nothing to worry about here other than your health. You're their captain for fuck's sake" she said taking a hold of my hand.

She lied down and made me lay on top of her. She took of my shirt and softly started caressing my back with her nails. Soft hums left my lips as i enjoyed too much what was going on. A soft smile was plastered on her face as she stayed up untill i was off to deep sleep.

Nika always knew how to calm me down. How to reassure me. She was always there for me and she loved me for who i was. I was trouble but she loved that about me. And i loved everything about her. If i didn't mary this woman i would probably never mary at all.

[jessica-problems]

to be honest, I think naming the main character of Gushing Over Magical Girls Utena, as in Revolutionary Girl Utena, is a fucking *inspired* choice. Like, yes, put your smut on the same level as high art. Dare us to evaluate it against such a thematically rich juggernaut of a story. The sheer confidence to invite that comparison is one thing, but the fact that it actually kind of works is another beast entirely. After all, both Utenas are young lesbian magial girls struggling with a desire for power, and wondering whether they're attracted to other girls in the right way. I'm not saying Utena Tenjou would definitely be into BDSM, but she canonically has some complex feelings about power dynamics. The more I rotate this parallel in my mind, the more I think it works, actually.

[epicyonbeforeidie]

I don’t usually write rants like this, but I need to get this off my chest.

With Cyrene who is clearly an Elysia expy coming to Honkai Star Rail, I sincerely hope she won’t be too much like Elysia. I wouldn’t mind if she shared some conceptual similarities, as long as it’s done right this time. But honestly, my hopes aren’t high.

I have a lot of thoughts about Elysia, and none of them are positive. At best, I see Elysia as the biggest disappointment in the entire series at worst, I outright despise her.

The thing is, I love “perfect savior” characters. They usually come with deep emotional arcs, internal conflict, and explorations of both the good and bad sides of humanity. That’s why Elysia frustrates me so deeply.

She’s portrayed as this flawless, idealized being loved by all of the characters, and even the writers. The narrative constantly screams at you: “She sacrificed everything for humanity! She is perfect! She loves humanity! She married humanity! She’s your wife too! - Don’t you love her already?”

But it all feels empty and shallow. Her so determination rings hollow because she never actually struggles. She doesn’t make mistakes. The story tells us she’s witnessed humanity at its best and worst but we never see this. Everyone worships her, and the moment there’s even a slight hint that she might doubt herself as a Herrscher, the writing bends over backward to reassure her that none of it matters because she’s just that perfect.

She doesn’t fight her nature. She doesn’t question her convictions. And because she never experiences genuine negative emotion, her “goodness” has no weight. She’s like a cardboard cutout that is sweet to the point of blandness.

What makes it worse is that there was potential. There were hints she could have been more than just a flawless goddess — maybe even morally ambiguous. But those hints go nowhere. It’s a waste of setup and a complete letdown.

Perfect characters can work, when their perfection is shown to be inhuman, and even evil and dangerous in its incompatibility with humanity.

Maybe I’ve been spoiled by Fate a series full of complex savior figures like Morgan, Castoria, Kiara, Jeanne d’Arc, and all of the Beasts. Each of them is unique, carefully written, sometimes heroic, sometimes terrifying. They struggle. They question themselves. They feel. The writing doesn’t beg us to love them it just shows us who they are and lets us come to that conclusion on our own.

I still cling to a sliver of hope. The Amphoreus arc is written by a different team than the Elysian Realm, and they gave us Phainon a brilliant example of a savior archetype done right. He’s full of doubt, hiding his negative emotions behind a mask of perfect deliverer. He’s broken, lost, and empty yet he still fights to find his convictions and protect the world.

So I beg let Cyrene, who seems to be another “savior” type have real flaws. Let her feel, struggle, and have a opinions on the world around her. That’s all I ask.

[lil-dragon-rawr]

Hear Me Out: TOH x DC

(or: this crossover needs more attention and sometimes you gotta be the snake oil you want to see in the world)

Part Two, Part Three, Part Four

Masterlist

(Luz, Amity, Cass, and Steph are stuck in Riddler's latest Escape Room Of Death (Or At Least Very Threatening Special Effects))

Steph: *starts whisper-arguing with Cass about whether or not to get involved as civilians*

Amity, unaware and moving towards the door with Intent To Slime: want me to-

Luz: don't worry I got this!

Luz, pulling a snake (???) out of her shirt: go, little power noodle, go!

Stringbean: *snakeshifts their tail into a key and unlocks the door*

Cass, slowly putting her lockpicks away: 0_o

Steph, to Cass: was that a snake? That was a snake, right?

(Luz, being Luz, ends up face-to-face with Black Mask in the absolute worst part of town)

Black Mask, one vaguely sarcastic comment away from murdering the random teen that just wandered into his high-profile drug deal: you have one chance to explain who you work for and how you got here, or I carve the answer out of you with a knife.

Luz, squinting at him:

Luz "Belos Was Turning Me To Stone And My First Instinct Was To Sass His Terrible Fashion Choices" Noceda: well aren't you just a ball of sunshine

Red Hood, interrupting the deal with Black Mask and coming face-to-face with a teen who was alarmingly unfazed by the whole event: do you have a death wish?

Luz: no, but it loses its edge after the first time

Luz: I mean, been there done that amirite?

Red Hood, processing:

Red Hood, hoping he wildly misread the context clues: you've died before?

Luz: well yeah

Luz, seeing an opportunity to cause chaos: but I came back thanks to the power of god and anime

Red Hood: ???

Poison Ivy: *minding her own business on the balcony of her suite*

Willow, thorn vaulting her way into the balcony: hi there! Huge fan :D

Ivy, trying to have a peaceful afternoon: wHOMST-

Willow: wanna compare notes on carnivorous plants?

Ivy:

Ivy: ...yes, do you have live examples by chance?

Willow, knowing she can essentially spawn plants at will: :D

(Robin, incredibly suspicious of the group that just moved into one of the worst (but cheap) apartment complexes in Gotham, has a stakeout at their apartments)

Hunter, moving around his apartment with Waffle on his shoulder: ^w^

Robin, immediately switching gears: I wonder if I could liberate the bird and convince Father to keep it since it's rescued from potential rogues.

Oracle, who heard him over comms: you're not allowed to steal pets anymore and you know it

Amity: *gets a job at Barbara's library*

Barbara, trying to keep an eye on her since she's kinda sus: hey, you're new here right? Want to grab coffee sometime?

Amity, just trying to do a good job: sure! :)

Barbara, suddenly acquiring a new sister: [task failed successfully]

King "Technically A Teenager But Really Short So Everyone Thinks He's A Child" Clawthorne: *gets kidnapped*

Kidnapper, calling the number King gave him to ask for ransom: we have your child-

Eda, unamused: oh yeah, which one?

Kidnapper: uhh short, yellow eyes, keeps asking if we have any ice cream?

Eda, annoyed: you have King???

Kidnapper, thinking they're getting somewhere: yes, and if you ever want to see him again, you'll bring $100k to the warehouse on the corner of 5th

Eda, knowing full well King could escape if he decided to use 2% of his power: *pinching the bridge of her nose* I'll be right over

Signal, about to rescue the small child some guy kidnapped: *waiting for an opening*

Eda, strutting into the warehouse on a mission: so you're the guy who kidnapped my son?

Signal, doing a double take because this lady with a hook for an arm has an aura that's oozing black and gray (and it looks like she has two auras for the price of one???): uhh Oracle?

Kidnapper, pointing a gun at Eda: slide the money over or I shoot!

Eda, still unamused: oh I'm sure you will, you spineless snaggleback.

Eda, letting the Owl Beast take over completely: *screeching, swallowing the kidnapper whole*

Eda, reverting back to normal: *burps*

Signal, panicking: Oracle? Hello?

Eda, moving on: so, King, did you have fun?

King, dropping the ropes he burned through with a glyph an hour ago: I had a blast!

Signal, finally getting a good look at the kid and realizing his aura is stronger than the demon lady's: Oracle, please respond

Signal, about to finish patrol: *sees the kidnapper from earlier passed out in a pile of nasty goo (Eda pelleted him up lol)*

Signal, incredibly concerned: ???

Oracle, tracking down all the information she can find on the Clawthornes: so it looks like that lady Signal saw got married in Vegas, stole her husband's car six hours later, and paid for a latte in Connecticut with a live racoon

Spoiler: what a legend. Move over Florida Man, there's a new queen in town

Red Robin: she turned into a monster and literally ate a guy yesterday

Spoiler: exactly, she's iconic

Red Robin:

Spoiler, rolling her eyes: god forbid women do anything

Red Robin, staking out the Clawthorne apartments after The Incident™: *listening in on conversations via the bugs he planted*

Gus, appearing next to him out of nowhere: hi there! Got a minute?

Red Robin: *screeching*

Gus, taking this as a yes: can I bug you with a few questions?

Red Robin, realizing a civilian snuck up on him and his siblings will never let him live this down: ...uhh

Gus, fangirling on the inside because this is a real human hero right in front of him: so what's it like being a human hero?

Red Robin, desperately trying to figure out what on earth these people are: you're not human?

Gus: *bursts out laughing and never answers the question*

(Luz, Vee, Hunter, and King, hopelessly lost in Black Mask's territory while trying to find their way to a restaurant)

Red Hood, recognizing Luz "I Have The Power Of God And Anime On My Side" Noceda: hey are you actively trying to get killed by Black Mask, or are you just lost?

Luz: oh hi again! Guys, this is the vigilante I was talking about!

Vee: *leans forward and sniffs Red Hood before freezing and remembering that's not something humans do* uhh. Ehe.

Red Hood: did you just sniff me?

Vee: uhhhh

Luz, squinting at Red Hood because Vee obviously smelled magic on him: haha, so silly, you wouldn't happen to be magic, would you?

Red Hood:

Red Hood: okay, back up. You can smell magic?

Vee, understanding there's no way out of this conversation: ...yes?

Red Hood, to Luz: and you died?

Luz: that's been established. The real question is how are you magic?

Red Hood: probably cause I died and got dunked in a necromancer's key lime smoothie extravaganza

Luz: cool

(the Batfamily sets up a meeting with Clawthornes & Co, C&C agrees cause they wanna see how the most paranoid member of the JL reacts to Demon Realm shenanigans)

Batman, seeing C&C and immediately clocking them as a bunch of child soldiers trauma bonded for life: .....

Eda, seeing the Batfam and also immediately clocking them as a bunch of child soldiers: ........

Eda, about Robin: why is there a twelve-year-old fighting crime?

Batman, about King: why is there an eight-year-old with more power than most high-level magicians?

Robin and King, at the same time: I'm fourteen!!

Robin and King: *squinting at each other*

Signal, off to the side, seeing the auras of the rest of C&C for the first time: oh my God. Oh my God

Spoiler: come on it can't be that bad

Signal: oh my God if B picks a fight we're all going to actually die

Batman, about Luz: why has your kid died?

Eda, about Red Hood: why has your kid died?

Red Hood, a self-proclaimed unbiased participant: oooooOOOOOOO she got you there *high fives Luz*

Batman, dragging Signal into the conversation because he's the only one who can see their auras: Signal. Ask your questions.

Signal, desperately trying to not get obliterated in a magic mushroom of energy: I plead the fifth

Eda: [Eda was amused]

Signal: so, you have two auras. Is there an explanation for that or...?

Eda: eh, I guess I have my sister to thank for that

Signal: ...can you elaborate?

Eda, sighing: it's a chronic condition. But at least my inner demon is paying rent now.

Signal, wildly confused:

Signal: so, um. You're the kid who got kidnapped a little bit ago, how are you holding up?

King: you call that a kidnapping? At best that was a half-baked attempt at a babysitting extortion scheme

Signal: ...do you know what kidnapping is?

King: yeah?

Signal: and you were unfazed by the whole ordeal?

King: I mean yeah, this was nothing compared to the time I was almost sacrificed by that cult

Batfam, collectively: ?????

Batman: [Batman will remember that]

Signal, to Luz: okay. So, you're the one who died - your aura also has this demon thing protecting it?

Luz and King: !!!!

Eda: hot dang, kid! The Titan's still hanging around!

Red Robin, thinking it's Greek myths coming into play: I'm sorry did you say titan?

Luz, making an attempt at explanation: yeah the Titan gave me the last bit of his power when I died

Luz, with jazz hands: and voila! Not dead anymore!

Spoiler, whispering to Red Robin: so is she...technically a god now?

Signal, increasingly desensitized to the power level of C&C: *pointing to Willow* you're basically Poison Ivy on crack

Willow, who just had her weekly meeting with Ivy: aww, thank you!

Signal, turning to Amity: I don't even know what happened to you.

Amity: oh is my aura all goopy?

Signal, slowly: that's...one way of putting it

Amity: okay it's all good! Probably just abomination slime :)

Batman: ...abomination slime?

Amity: yeah, like this!

Amity: *conjures abominations on the ground beneath the vigilantes*

Batkids: *screaming, cursing*

Luz, kissing Amity on the cheek: ooh another one for vigilante bingo! Nice job, sweet potato!

Signal, squinting at Hunter: uhh you're like, made out of bark and oozing a vaguely concerning substance? Also there's a bird imprinted on your chest

Hunter, tearing up: oh. What kind of bird

Signal: small and red, idk maybe a cardinal?

Hunter, full-on sobbing: I'm fine I just have some dirt in my eye. Stupid dirt

Batfam, putting two and two together about the group's matching bird tattoos: ohhh. Oh. Oh.

Spoiler: kay but why is your aura wood?

Hunter: oh I'm part palistrom wood

Hunter, counting off ingredients on his fingers: and part Titan blood, which probably explains the oozing

Hunter: I have a Galdorstone,

Spoiler, horrified whispering: is that like a kidney stone?

Hunter, still listing ingredients: Stonesleeper lungs, Selkidomus scales, a bone from my former uncle's deceased brother-

Red Robin: is there a reason you treat body parts like they're customizable options in the menu of an RPG?

Hunter, missing the joke completely: I'm a Grimwalker. This is what I'm made out of

Red Robin: ...you lost me.

Robin: but what about the blue jay you had on your shoulder?

Hunter: oh you mean Waffle! :D

Hunter: *pulls Waffle out of his shirt* say hi, Waffle!

Waffle: *un-petrifies himself and chirps*

Robin: 🤯

Spoiler, to Blackbat: it was a snake!

(hard cut to Robin being swarmed by palisman)

Robin, thinking: on one hand, it is foolish to show such obvious weakness in front of potential enemies. On the other hand, their familiars are all very cute.

Robin:

Robin, making a decision: *continues playing with the palisman*

Signal, pointing to Gus and Vee: I don't understand you.

Gus, comfortingly: don't worry, greatness is difficult to comprehend :)

Vee, actually trying to help Signal: ohh it's because he's all smoke and mirrors and I'm not even a witch!

Spoiler, who thought these were all just metas after Eda "It's A Chronic Condition" Clawthorne: you're not even a what now

(Clawthorne & Co, trying to start from the beginning)

Amity: so we're all witches-

Luz: well,

Vee: *laughs*

Hunter, raising his hand: I'm only half a witch on a good day

Batman:

Amity, amending: only three of us are biological witches who use traditional witch spells,

Luz: there you go!

Amity: those three witches are Willow, Gus, and myself

Amity: and Luz is the first human witch!

Spoiler, whispering to Blackbat: witches and humans are different species??

Blackbat: *shrugs*

Eda: and I used to be the most powerful witch on the Isles, but my curse corrupted my magic. Now I'm a harpy because I convinced the demon in my head to pay rent

Batman: curse?

Eda, waving her hand: yeah, long story

Luz: and like we established earlier, Hunter's a Grimwalker that used a human template, so he's not biologically a witch either. But Flapjack gives him magic!

Hunter, nodding solemnly: the power of friendship

Spoiler, whispering to Blackbat: oh my god friendship is magic My Little Pony was right-

Blackbat: *snickers*

Red Hood: and the weird kid who smells magic isn't magic?

Vee, defensively: magic is yummy!

Red Hood:

Vee "My First Instinct Upon Entering The Human World Was To Tell A Human 'Skin's Sure Weird' To Their Face" Noceda: ...yum yum!

Batfam:

Vee:

Batfam:

Vee: okay okay I'm a basilisk, basilisks eat magic!

Batfam: ...

Vee: ...nevermind.

Batman: that just leaves King. Is he also a pseudo witch?

King: oh yeah what did you call me a couple weeks ago Luz?

Luz, barely keeping a straight face: he's Jesus.

Batman: ...come again?

Vee and Luz: *start wheezing with laughter*

King, after a couple minutes of running with the bit: okay okay I'll explain

King: ...I'm the son of the Titan

Signal, looking between Luz and King's auras rapidly: you...he...oh. Oh

Spoiler: oh my god he's actually Jesus

[cuppajj]

Thoughts about BY 5 and 6

So I finished the episode at an unhealthy morning hour, and now after getting my full sleep, I can fully share my thoughts!

And of course, spoilers for the newest episode!

First things first, I want to talk about Burning Spice himself. A while back, I made a post about my hopes for him and how I didn’t want him to be a temperamental meathead, but instead a smart and calculating person who took from his extensive knowledge of history to psychologically destroy as much as physically. Did we get that?

Kinda, kinda not. Spice isn’t another Purple Yam like I’d hoped, he has more character than being just angry, but the hotheadedness does remain most of the way through. He reminds me of a strongman anime villain, the kind whose braun speaks more than brain, but still capable of strategy. Most of that strategy comes from Nutmeg Tiger though, as Spice is mostly interested in fighting Cheese from beginning to end. There’s no moment where he messes with her mind directly and picks apart her vulnerabilities beyond surface level “you hold things dear to you that I will destroy”. Which, implication is that he was more focused on just fighting, which in the context of how/why he is the way he is, kinda makes sense.

And about that, I’ll address it briefly: So we learn that Spice’s corruption, at least the straw that broke the camel’s back, was that he got bored watching history unfold. I think it’s very cool! While I was interested in a little more nuance behind his boredom, sometimes villains don’t need a complex reason for why they do what they do. It does make Spice less sympathetic than Mystic Flour though, so it seems like not all Beasts may be equal in cause and backstory. However, stuff about him may be explored later, since he’s going to be back.

So I would say that Spice isn’t as one note as I’d hoped, but he is a simple villain. A simple and very very fun and scary villain, but there could’ve been a lot more to his character in this story that made it lacking for me. I know BY chapters are usually short, but there could’ve possibly been more time showing the parallels between him and Cheese beyond a dialogue or so. It would’ve been really cool if Spice addressed those directly, using it against Cheese. Making her rethink/relive the trauma of losing everyone and mentally destroying her… like what if there was an exchange in the prison cell when she was at her lowest? What if Smoked Cheese had either been incapacitated and unable to speak, or in a separate cell so Cheese could be entirely at the Beast’s mercy? (We DID get a bit of that when Cheese realized how apathetic he was and what he saw in her soul jam, but that was more of a disgusted shock than a mental breakdown.) Smoked could help her out of her turmoil later (an exchange between him and Spice could’ve also been awesome), but Spice leaving mental damage on Cheese would’ve further spread the idea that he also values breaking things internally.

But, I guess Spice is just destroy destroy destroy to the point where he doesn’t really care about anything else, which is… fine. Admittedly not my cup of tea because it’s so basic, but it doesn’t mean I don’t enjoy his motivation. I hope we get a little more nuance next time we see him.

Anyway love these sprites!! I wished we got more related to the first two, it shows a mellower and/or ironically colder side of him that I think would’ve really helped amplify his fear factor. Spice is all fun and destruction but the oh shit comes from him showing more of the calculated side he used to have.

But speaking of Golden Cheese, I’ll talk about her next.

Overall I really liked her story here! I love seeing her in action and on her own, and her interactions with Smoked Cheese were fun to see! Smoked Cheese was extra fun, I loved how he had sass while still caring for people beyond his kingdom’s entourage (his voice and mannerisms remind me of tfp knockout it’s crazy). I was also happy to learn how the soul cheese worked, since that was a question I had from last episode. It appears Smoked isn’t in his body, but his soul is projecting a physical form given mass that relies on Golden Cheese’s power. Very interesting, and I wonder if he’s just going to stay out now, or if he’ll return? And what of the others too…

Now, something I will say about Cheese is that while her character arc made sense for her in a bubble, I feel a similar thing like I did with Spice that it could’ve been much better. Personally, while Cheese staying true to her greediness and immense care for her treasures is a good thing to power her up, I don’t think it made her as bigger a person than Spice than she could’ve. What would’ve been cooler and more thematic for her character would’ve actually been accepting that destruction and the loss of things she cares about is a natural part of life.

What I mean by this is that while Spice embodies destruction, Cheese essentially embodies creation, which are two polar opposites that have their place in the universe. Antagonizing one or the other should come with a deeper approach to the message, and frankly, antagonizing destruction in its entirety is a very black and white angle. Destruction can be inherently bad and tragic, yes, but it can also pave the way for new life and new things to be created. Plantlife grows back after a forest fire. You can build something better upon the ruins of what was before. For Cheese, her kingdom could’ve been lost/destroyed, but she could’ve accepted it and strove for a newer and better kingdom. Which, in some parts she did, but my philosophy also applies to people lost too.

Death and destruction was a prominent theme in Cheese’s backstory, and much of her Golden City arc was confronting that. I suppose this is a separate talk for another time, but to put it simply, she didn’t have an arc about accepting those who were lost, moreso about striving to bring those who were lost back. The story ended with her promising to bring her friends back, instead of accepting that she lost them and focusing her strength on protecting those she still has with her. That last part could’ve actually been what the Spice story led to, with her first wanting to find a way to bring everyone back, but deciding by the end of it that she can protect the memory of her kingdom along with the living friends she still has. Smoked Cheese could’ve even helped her with that, showing that he cares for her over himself, leading to a heartfelt goodbye between the two. This is just a wishful image, but it would’ve been a really good way for CRK to tackle a deep theme and touch a lot of people’s feelings. But what we got was a lot simpler, with both Spice and Cheese’s characters and themes, which I guess makes sense. Some stories (or the game itself) don’t really want to be anything super deep in narrative, and that’s fine as long as they’re still fun, which this was.

Lastly I will say, I fear the awakening thing will get a little predictable and repetitive from here on out. Beast is a threat for the first chapter, continues to be a threat up until Ancient does a power of love and friendship introspection and transforms into a stronger version of themself. I hope one of them will be a little subversive in this—I don’t know how, I just hope these great stories aren’t bogged down by predictability!

But anyway, those are my thoughts about BY 5 and 6. Overall a great story, I’m so happy to get Spice and Cheese action because they’re two of my favorites, Smoked Cheese was fun, and I’m looking forward to the new Shmilk stuff we will be getting around the anniversary. After that I really hope Eternal Sugar is next, I have a bunch of thoughts/hopes for them too!!

Anyway thanks for reading!

[ben-jaded]

Remmick x Sammie are gen z Louis/Lestat (affectionate) change my mind folks.

Anon, I love the chaos of the comparison, but the math ain’t mathing.

While I get why people might draw surface-level comparisons between Sammick and Loustat, the reality is… they’re not the same beast at all. Do Sammick hit some similar beats? Sure. Would Remmick 100% try to baby-trap Sammie? Absolutely. But the core difference is in the dynamic between their relationships.

Sammie isn’t the type to tolerate cheating or manipulation the way Louis did. That boy knows his worth and exactly how many people would ride at dawn if he so much as looked uncomfortable. Louis? He tolerated a lot of things because of his lack of self-worth. He was drowning in his own self-loathing and self-hatred.

Lestat? That man is trauma incarnate. Mommie issues, maker issues, a walking cautionary tale with aristocratic flair and what has to be untreated BPD with the world's biggest abandonment complex. Louis ain't no saint either. He was a pimp, was raised his mother was narcissistic, never really recovered from Paul's death, and as his relationship with Armand demonstrated has a thing for toxic men. No one in IWTV is a good person. They’re selfish, manipulative, and yes, Louis absolutely ate that baby. He turned Claudia because she called him an angel once, then spent years choosing men over her. He wanted someone who saw him as good and I hate to be the one to say it, but if that fire never happened and Louis never got turned the chances of Claudia ending up in one of Louis' brothels is pretty high. She was never his priority.

When their relationship was good, it was mostly in the beginning, when Lestat had access to Louis’s thoughts and could actually respond to his needs. The maker’s bond that twisted that intimacy into something possessive and consuming. There’s even a line in early Season 1 where Louis says Lestat made him feel seen. He wanted someone else to hold the reins. That’s what they really were: two broken, toxic people finding solace in each other. But their relationship was always built on codependency and a lack of external support. Their relationship works best when there are no outsiders.

Now look at Sammick. Is Remmick impulsive and selfish? Yes. Is he manipulative and convinced his way is the way? Also yes. But at his core, Remmick is just old and lonely and aching for the feeling of home. Sure he wanted Sammie out of selfish need. But I'll give him grace in the fact that he’s seeking community and connection. He sees Sammie as a reflection of everything he's lost, everything he can have again. Especially if we’re reading that Remmick was once a Fili with the same gifts as Sammie’s conjurer roots among the griots and firespeakers. He’s longing for home.

And even in his manipulations, Remmick’s approach to temptation is different. During the baptism-by-the-river scene, he says, “We’ll make beautiful music together.” He doesn’t see turning Sammie as a curse, it’s a sharing of gifts.

But here’s the thing Remmick learns the hard way—Sammie’s not some lonely boy waiting for a dark stranger to take him home. He has a home. Sammie knows his worth. He’s not isolated. He has family, protectors, an entire community behind him. Even if his father is disapproving, he still loves his son. Sammie has a support system. The second Remmick strays, Sammie’s packing him back to whatever crypt he crawled out of. No tolerance, period. He’s secure in his identity, in his goals.

And let’s not forget: Remmick may be dangerous, but Sammie is walking him on a leash. Remmick is Sammie’s scary dog privilege. He makes the monster kneel.

Also? Class difference matters. Sammie is a sharecropper’s son, raised on a plantation in the Deep South. Remmick is an Irish immigrant scraping by. Meanwhile, Lestat is a French aristocrat, and Louis is a wealthy Creole businessman able to negotiate directly with white men. That power imbalance defined their dynamic from the start.

I don’t approach writing Sammick anything like Loustat. Their relationships live in entirely different emotional, cultural, and historical spaces. One is toxic codependency wrapped in high tragedy. The other? A love story forged in fire, held together by defiant self-worth.

So, affectionately, they're not the same flavor of unhinged.

[iwoulddieforher]

Homebound (Homeward-bound, Housebound) | Alex Cabot × Casey Novak

Author's Note: 17k words- longer than Rigid, which now makes this my longest work yet 😋 Inspired by @jeongonion 's frustration sex and then make up prompt

Warnings: Hate sex! which takes place technically in a church! Alex is heavily implied to have a superiority complex. Mentions of discussion surrounding pregnancy complications but dont worry no one's pregnant I hate pregnancy fics

Summary: Casey Novak had indulged Alexandra Cabot in a one-night stand the night before her testimony, and they hadn't been able to see each other after. When Alex finally gets out of WITSEC, she returns to seek her out, only to find Casey was now suspended. She tries not to let it bother her, but her obsession born from the sudden stark realization that she had underestimated Casey's prowess and desperation for the comfort Novak brings manifests a creature that commands Alex's attention. The beast guides her on a path to discover the new life Casey has constructed- but Alex is angry, and she's desperate to force Casey to finally look at her again.

Find/read this fic below or alternatively on AO3, by clicking on this text

The small whimpers Casey elicited when Alex was nipping her throat had replayed over and over in the blonde's head for years, now, and they were slowly starting to drive her insane.

She had been thrilled, initially, being able to end her stint as chief of the homicide bureau (realizing all the corruption and politics she had despised putting up with as a lower-ranking ADA was so hard to avoid for those in positions of power and finally being able to quit doing that), returning instead to SVU, only to find out the redhead she had spent the second half of witness protection wondering about no longer worked there. She had gotten her license suspended, and promptly vanished from the city entirely- despite her best attempts to weasel information, it seemed like no one genuinely knew where she was. 

And that was fine and all, if she wanted to sulk so be it, but then the mark Olivia had made on her calendar that circled the day her suspension was over had come and then gone and there was no word from the faux blonde attorney whatsoever- the only change that had occurred was her number being disconnected, which aggravated Liv to a great extent, as she had made it a habit of calling once a month just to offer a quick word, and since the mailbox never rejected as full she assumed Casey was at least listening.

The small traces of Casey the woman had made on the detectives Alex used to be so familiar with were evident, though, in the way Olivia argued, in the way Stabler bantered. She had become a friend to them, and the strange churn of emotions in Alex's chest when she let her mind wander over to the singular night the two had shared was only further emphasized because of it.

That, too, was driving her insane. The impact Casey had made. And yes, it did make her feel guilty. She knew, logically, that getting riled up that the faux blonde had made her place there after the initial hardship she had endured was ridiculous. But when Olivia in her morning rush accidentally swapped Alex's regular coffee order out for Casey's, it struck a nerve that seemed to resonate with the rest of her.

Even Donnelly, it seemed, had a crack in the shell of her heart where Casey had rammed into it like the fireball of a woman she was. 

"Alex," the elder blonde woman barked, "What is it with you-? I'd assume after being a Bureau Chief you'd understand how to handle something like this-" 

Alex had never quite made it to the place of lashing back out, so she just gritted her teeth and snorted under her breath while waiting for the judge to finish her tongue-lashing. One thing, she said, though, stuck out to Alex to an unreasonable degree.

"If Novak had returned to her position, I doubt I would've needed to step in on this matter," the judge had snapped in a fit of impatience and unsympathetic scolding.

"What?" Alex bristled, her eyebrows knitting over her eyes from frustration. "Casey?" 

That seemed to pause the judge for a second, and with a sigh, she removed her glasses to wipe her sleeve over the lenses with what Alex could easily mistake as a regretful expression. "Pardon. It's unprofessional of me to compare you two." 

"But, what did you mean?" the younger woman forced the issue, rising and taking a step forward imploringly, not sure why her soul was so driven to do so.

Donnelly's face shifted in mild confusion, maybe even a hint of irritation, but with a jerk of her eyebrows, she relented what was going through her mind when she had made that comment.

"Novak, brash and headstrong as she was- there was no denying she was a brilliant prosecutor. Her conviction rate was the highest we'd seen in a while. I suppose I'm just irate that she didn't return- I assumed she would. That's no excuse for taking it out on you, Cabot, I apologize. Casey was..." 

Deft, Alex tried to internally supply her with the adjective. Unique. Profoundly capable, especially astute. She was something different, something bigger and more lively than the harsh, polished walls of the DA's office could encompass properly- or at least, everyone seemed to act like it.

Donnelly still assumed she was just upset at the comparison- and yes, she supposed she was, but the churn of emotions in the pit of her stomach twisted around something different. 

"Casey's conviction rate?" Alex felt her brow furrow despite herself, and the judge gave a small modest shrug and then supplied her with the information,

"Seventy-one percent. Nearly unheard of in our line of work." 

The only reason it wasn't literally unheard of was because Casey Novak had achieved it. 

Perhaps it was simply the nature of the human ego to be hurt by comparison, but something within Alex's psyche seemed to shift at that.

The woman was a formidable prosecutor, that much had been obvious, but in some ways- perhaps it had just been the nature of her return, the way people had treated her as some sort of legendary creature flew in from far winds, and the look of reverence that flickered in Casey's eyes when they had first eye contact, but Alex had always assumed that, between the two of them, she was the better prototype for an attorney. She had heard in gossip and rumors how headstrong Casey was, how she seemed to run into house fires without question, and how she acted more like a detective herself rather than the political elegance an ADA should exhibit. 

She knew better- she had been raised better, raised in a family of legal connections and in some ways simple nepotism. She radiated the esteem and elegance a female attorney needed to succeed, she had been bred to do so, and she assumed that, through these ways, and especially through the way Casey had treated her, that Alex was a superior in some way. Not to a degree that might suggest she was egotistical, (perhaps this entire train of thought was, a part of her mind murmured to her), but to some degree nonetheless.

It was simply the natural conclusion that although, yes, Casey was good, Alex was better. The squad had treated them as such, after all.

Was that a wrong assumption to make?

She had envisioned herself as a hawk come down to accompany songbird, but this startling information seemed to suggest she had misinterpreted the situation entirely.

Alex felt mildly sick with a sudden burst of anger, an animal that clawed its way from her stomach into her lungs and she let out a slow, long exhale.

"Don't let that agitate you, Cabot," Donnelly caught on, and then with a wave dismissed her from her office after ensuring whatever move Alex had been trying to make case-wise would no longer be an option.

Alex decided to take the rest of the day to sulk, snapping curt responses at the detectives who bothered her and rubbing her fingers on her temple more than once as if to soothe a headache that didn't exist. 

The next day she felt better, yes, but bitterness resided in her soul which stayed there stubbornly for the next weeks.

Casey stayed in her mind like a very odd plague, or perhaps her infatuation had simply bred a needy beast of a creature that demanded her attention.

It may have been the way Donnelly had compared them- the idea that while Alex had assumed she was the sharper weapon, Casey was in reality a force more powerful than she was. A sort of anxious resentment and bitterness stirred- but she told herself it was only natural to be upset when bested, except the majority of her brain was scrambling to retort that no, she hadn't been bested, Casey was gone- censured, suspended- and she was still here. Didn't that make her better? Didn't she still have higher footing? 

The whispers of Casey's quiet pleas in her ear, the way she had looked up through half-lidded eyes at Alex as if she was some sort of goddess she would spend days worshipping except for the fact they were about to convict the assassin who had attempted on Alex's life a meager night later, had created a sort of fondness in Alex's mind as the one who could lay above her. The one Casey wanted to worship, that being looked at meant she was special in some sort of way, and that simply didn't make sense to her if Casey was truly the higher power.

She was supposed to be better. Why would Casey have acted in such a way if she wasn't? Or did Casey just, as she had, assume she was, and if she realized she wasn't, she'd- what, lose interest? No, Alex wouldn't allow herself to think about such things. Alex was better.

Perhaps it was simply that Alex was shaken by the fact no reunion had occurred. She had really expected Novak to show back up, eager and impatient to begin convicting felons once again, expected to fall into step beside her and share caseloads. 

She knew Olivia had expected the same, too, in the way that she huffed when she had to flip the calendar to the next month, leaving the date where she had penned at the end of Casey's suspension in an important red pen that had come and then gone without a word from the now rather mysterious former attorney. It would've been alright to hear that she had returned to working somewhere else, at least, that the pursuit of justice that had run so fervently in her bloodstream was still being used if not with them, but no such word was ever announced. Alex had even, on Olivia's request, inquired into it, but Casey had never utilized her now-lifted ban to reassume her license to practice. 

And that frustrated Alex, frustrated her immensely, and that snowballed into further frustrations when she couldn't put her thumb on why she was so irked in the first place.

She had really wanted- no, in the nights long passed in witness protection when she had thought about it, she needed it. Under the covers in bed, toying with the page of a book she wasn't reading, she had pictured walking back into the squad room alone- no marshals, no escort. Just her jacket slung over her shoulder, just a pitstop before reclaiming her job and her title, to say hi. She had envisioned feverishly the look of joy on Olivia's face as she jumped out of her chair to meet her, arms holding Alex's elbows the way Olivia always did, perhaps Alex cupping Olivia's face, too. Looking over at Huang and Stabler and the others, all aligned in her imagination as if waiting for her to step back in as if nothing traumatic had happened at all, exchanging a curt but meaningful nod with Cragen.

And then she closed the book entirely, because holding it was pointless, her blank eyes filled with the imagination of Casey strolling back into the precinct with a sigh- returning from arraignment, perhaps, or maybe court. Still adorned in her court clothes, the tailored fabric that fit her figure perfectly, looking like a soldier, or perhaps a wife, fighting the good fight or nurturing justice and civilization in the way Alex felt as though only she could really appreciate, and then her eyes would land on Alex.

And oh, how Alex dreamed about those green eyes widening slightly, how she'd pause, stunned for a second, and then smile- perhaps shyly, perhaps brightly, perhaps perhaps perhaps but always so amazingly Casey. 

And it hadn't happened- Casey had been gone by the time she had managed to fight her way back in. So despite not needing the comfort of that scenario anymore, she had achieved her life back to the extent that mattered after all, her mind had concocted a new one to satisfy the dent Casey had left regardless. 

This time it was Casey wandering back into the precinct, green eyes flickering around, eyeing up her surroundings to see what had changed, only to find not much. Olivia jumping from her chair the same way Alex had imagined she would've done for her, stepping forward without hesitation, and although Casey would never cup the base of Olivia's skull like Alex would have, Olivia would cradle the sides of her arm just the same. Stabler would crack some joke about Casey returning from radio silence, but Casey would look just like an angel re-descending onto the world. And then Casey would look up to see Alex casually leaning on a desk or a railing or whatever Alex would find at that moment to lean on.

And then, that smile. Perhaps shyly, perhaps brightly, but exactly and always the way Alex needed her to.

She hadn't gotten her reunion, no. 

Neither one of them. 

Not what she had envisioned would come after, either. Selfishly, she thought perhaps she was just teased with the idea of repaying Casey for the night that woman had provided her with, comfort in the sense of tangled limbs and heavy kisses, and the fact she wasn't able to. Casey would've been nervous to return, but she would've regardless, unable to stay away, and Alex would've comforted her in her ability the same way Casey had nurtured her confidence in the trial through words and other uses for tongues and teeth and fingers. She felt robbed, even though she knew that was unfair. 

She kept reminding herself that they had met once. One, singular night, and no matter how good that hook-up had felt that's what it was. The marshals hadn't let her say goodbye. Alex had despairingly refused to seek intimacy after that, not wanting to take another into her arms and allow them to call her a fake name so she could fake moan and try to forget she was in witness protection, but Casey living her truth was under no such obligation. Casey might not have wanted to sleep with her again, maybe not now that she'd be seeing her reoccurringly, and Alex would've been prepared to accept that, if only she had something to accept.

She had nothing to accept, because now when she heard Olivia call Casey's phone when cases were especially stressing the brunette out of sheer muscle memory, Novak's phone was disconnected. Olivia would stand in silence for a second, and Alex would stand a little ways away feeling equally discontented, despite the fact Olivia had a reason to miss her- a friendship forged through years- while Alex knew her for one night and apparently now would never see her again.

It was as though the alluring faux blonde was taunting her, no matter how unfair that thought was as it boiled over in Alex's brain. It was unfair to think lowly of Casey. Perhaps she had simply found an occupation she thought suited her more and wasn't keen on lodging her way back into a space where she'd need to reassert her presence when she had already found another set of walls to encompass her life. 

And Alex focused on that, focused on work, focused on ending her useless engagement she had fallen into out of desperation to cling back into her real life, focused on trying to get rid of Jim Steele who apparently thought she actually cared about him. 

"Hey, Liv, what's this notification on your phone?" Stabler said one day, though, while Alex and Olivia were discussing the grounds for a search warrant needed, and Olivia glanced over casually and then flicked her wrist dismissively.

"I'm bringing someone flowers," she said, as if it was unimportant.

"Holding out on me?" Alex interjected abruptly, and Olivia's brow furrowed immediately, and then she laughed nervously as if something had just occurred to her. 

(A lightning bolt shot through Olivia's spine when she heard the echo of Casey's chuckle, when she had said those exact words to her before the flower delivery that had almost killed her, and she knew Alex could tell that she stiffened. It was the remnant of her fear she'd lose two of her favorite ADAs in the same way, bleeding out in front of her, sprawled out on the floor like lifeless dolls.)

Alex got the sense that Olivia had recognized something she had heard before, and bristled slightly. She assumed it wasn't Casey, but the part of her brain space that the faux blonde seemed to consume adamantly murmured to her that it was, that she was being compared, that she had to assert herself.

"Um-" Olivia blinked, looking awkwardly in Elliot's direction for an out, but he only raised an eyebrow, inadvertently backing Alex up.

"No, not for someone like that, just- it's the anniversary of when Casey buried her fiance, and..." 

Fiance? Casey was engaged? Well- had been engaged? When had she gotten engaged, and when had it ended? Alex felt her chest rise with a shallow breath, trying to grapple in her spinning mind. No, Alex couldn't have been a rebound- that was a stupid conclusion, she wouldn't defile herself by even suggesting that internally. Casey had wanted her, just her, when they had slept together. The look in those green eyes, when they stared up at her adoringly, told her so.

"Oh, you still feel guilty about that?" Elliot popped open a soda can. Alex noted the way he said that seemed very Stabler-like, in the sense that it wasn't warm or cold, curious or detached, he just.. said things in a way that was hard to describe.

But now she was curious, too, after the initial internal struggle, about why Olivia would feel guilty about death in Casey's personal affairs- she would've assumed she'd find out if Olivia had been involved in a case where someone in Casey's life had been brutalized, so only hearing this now seemed odd. Olivia just pressed her lips into a thin line, flexing an eyebrow at Stabler who simply shrugged nonchalantly and raised the can to his lips. 

"What do you feel guilty for, exactly?" Alex inquired, finally, after a second's pause.

"Nothing." Olivia pressed, and then with a mild sigh, "I snooped in Casey's desk and found something I shouldn’t have and proceeded to handle it badly because I was pissed this guy-" she pointed at Stabler- "almost went blind." 

Some things never changed, and Olivia's inability to properly summarize cases or events that were no longer actively necessary was one of them- after she signed the final records, she was done with them, and Alex internally decided that was as good an explanation as one could get.

"But.. her fiance?"

"Was already dead. For a while. But still. I don't think she lives in New York anymore so I've been bringing his grave flowers on the anniversary of when she buried him because I don't know if she knew when he actually died, just so... because I feel like, someone should do it." Olivia finished lamely, and then decided she was done talking about that, and proceeded to jump back on the train of discussing the search warrant.

Casey didn't know exactly when her own fiance died? What the hell had happened? But Olivia seemed unwilling to pour information like Alex adamantly was trying to prompt her to, and Alex didn't want to push.

The monster in Alex's stomach purred with curiosity at the new mention, new tidbits of information Alex was snaking for daily life, and despite her attempts to settle it, she found herself returning to the precinct at the time Olivia's shift was over.

"I want to come with you," she said, and to Liv's raised brow she justified, "convicting my assassin was a good enough reason to have me indebted to her. I can't thank her, so I may as well just do this with you." 

Olivia decided that was reason enough- it wasn't like she knew the guy, either- so they climbed into her car and started on the trip to the outskirts of the city where enough green was preserved to allow for the shade of trees to grace tombstones. 

The cemetery was a recognized Catholic one, so greeting them when Olivia pulled over in a parking lot was a small chapel with an imposed, ornate roof. To the side of it was a small wooden building, quaint yet well-cared for, which sold flowers. Olivia moved immediately towards it, so Alex assumed this was probably where she'd been buying the flowers she provided Casey's dead fiance.

"I wonder if she broke off the engagement before or after he died," Olivia muttered to herself vaguely, her forehead creased as she tried to figure out the appropriate flower to select.

"Sunflowers- or yellow roses, something that symbolizes friendship," Alex suggested vaguely, her interest piqued by whatever Olivia meant- she didn't know the story, after all- but she knew better than to pry. It would feel like an intrusion if Benson didn't offer the information willingly, and it didn't seem like the brunette was planning on it.

They both selected a modest amount of stalks, paid accordingly, and then Alex let Olivia lead her in a direction until they came to a cross-shaped stone suspended in the ground with 'Charles 'Charlie' Kelly' chiseled into it. Beneath it, 'ad astra; he will be missed more than he knows'. To the stars, the first portion meant. Apparently, despite Olivia's implication that the engagement hadn't been a successful one regardless of Charlie's death, Casey still thought of him in the sky above her.

Olivia was apparently lost in thought, so Alex let her mind wander. 

She shouldn't have come here, she decided, that was evident enough. She was uncomfortable and it felt like a violation for her to be offering respect, regardless of what her intentions behind it were. She didn't believe in the afterlife, so she was spared the idea of Casey Novak's dead almost-life-partner staring eerily at Casey Novak's lesbian one-night stand from the grave, but if Casey was religious maybe it was still some sort of misconduct she shouldn't have allowed herself. There was no reason for her to be hung up on Casey as she was, and this was a major overstep. 

"She's really strong," Olivia said after some pause, "I guess I kept forgetting that when she was still working with us. To endure this, and then.."

Alex knew better than to push, and Olivia wasn't giving her an opening to pry, so her uncomfortablility mounted to a greater height as she swallowed and tried not to ask what Olivia was referring to. 

Distraction- although, not as good a distraction as she wanted, but at least it was something to focus on, was a teenage boy with a large, sun-shield-covered cart dragging a large mass of flower arrangements down the isles of tombstones, reading nameplates and occasionally stopping to gently place a large bouquet down on the marble slab, checking off a name on his list before continuing.

Alex turned her head and decided to just watch him, instead, with his rather casual clothes- it seemed like he might've come here from school, perhaps he was related to whoever owned this place- and his cart traverse in a steady, respectful rhythm.

To her and Olivia's surprise, though, when his cart was nearing empty save for five large arrangements, he dragged it over to where they were standing. At least, Alex worried he was going to try to peddle, and she didn't know how to turn down a teenage boy selling flowers in a cemetery. Instead, he simply tipped his baseball cap respectfully in her direction, tugging one bouquet out of the bucket it had been placed in, impaling the stalks in a foam block, and then carefully arranging it next to Charlie's headstone, before proceeding to do the same with the other four.

"My regards," he said in an easy voice, glancing between their faces, before drawing a line through the final name and order summary in his list, before turning to leave. 

Alex's eyes flickered over to the flower arrangement. It was careful, it was delicate, and it looked ridiculously expensive. Large, blood-red roses sprawling effortlessly in directions, easy symbols of love, of course- but then others, like the frequent dots of German chamomile peeking out beside them, jasmine, transvaal daisies, and many, many others.

Alex became acutely aware of her breathing as her sharp eyes flickered. The second bouquet was a blend of the flowers adorning the first and the third, similarly, the fourth bouquet was a combination of the third and the fifth. The attention-demanding red roses claimed the majority of visibility, but the smaller flowers that crept around them like soft kisses on a sleeping giant enraptured Alex's focus.

The first bouquet's secondary selection was primarily yellow, the same flowers Alex had earlier recommended for friendship. The third entertained pinks- carnations, and then whites, like daisies and gardenias. The fifth contained a different note, where the aforementioned German chamomile and jasmine formed a small ring around a singular blue chrysanthemum. 

"Oh," Alex breathed, softly, under her breath, her voice not directed at Olivia- she didn't know why she was speaking out her revelation- "she's telling their love story." 

Friendship, romance, attempted healing, and then suffering. Initially, Alex had assumed the flowers might've been from parents or siblings. No, this was most surely Casey's work. It made her sick to her stomach.

She turned in hast to the flower boy, who had started his trip back down the aisle, pacing over to him in long overconfident strides.

"Hey- pardon me, but- what are you doing, exactly?" 

In usual teenage fashion, he flashed her an almost incredulous look, a tilt of the head that meant 'Can't you see, lady?' but under the way her features grew suddenly stern he relented. 

"Sometimes when family members can't come to pay respects they call in flower arrangements to the graves." He answered her appropriately, although he now looked mildly wary. Alex wasn't sure if she should be proud of her ability to intimidate teenagers. 

"Who ordered the flowers for Charles Kelly?" Alex's gaze flashed back to where she had been standing, where Olivia still stood looking at her with a confused expression. 

"The wife, I think." He followed her gaze, "She asked for one of us to do it by hand, that arrangement. I helped. It costs more, normally our flower vendors pre-make bouquets." 

Alex gritted her teeth, a muscle in her jaw growing rigid as a very very unethical idea formulated in her mind.

"Fifty bucks says you can give me the number she used to call?" 

The boy's eyebrow raised sharply, and Alex winced, suddenly feeling stupidly vulnerable in her court clothes in a grassy lot surrounded by the evidence of grief of families she wasn't a part nor know to any degree, with no real purpose or justification for being there. Still, the monster in her stomach roared happily at the fact she felt closer to Casey than she had in months- prancing into her ribcage to make her heart pound before twisting and crawling its way back down. Casey had such a hold on her curiosity it was making her feel seasick.

"...what were you, Kelly's mistress?" 

"Do not take that tone with me, young man." She reprimanded, a bit harsher than she initially attempted to, "Do you want the money, or not?"

"Yeah," he offered after less than a second's consideration, and Alex thanked the heavens for the recklessness of teenage boys, "let me go check our records." 

Less than five minutes later, Alex was now short of a half-hundred dollars but had the number Casey had used to call the cemetery clutched tightly on a piece of scrap paper in her palm, a sinking feeling in her stomach and an unknowing albeit bewildered Olivia next to her. She refused to say anything about it, though, and Olivia didn't push, thank god. 

She toyed with the scrap of paper until the ink it had been jotted down in smudged under her sweaty fingers and she hastily tucked it into her purse instead, a bristling, uncomfortable feeling in her veins as she felt the beast that was her feeling towards Novak rip through her bloodstream. Fuck, there's no way she could actually do this.

The phone began to ring the second she stepped back into her own apartment, after Olivia had dropped her off, and she had barely managed the elevator ride without pulling out her phone and calling the number immediately.

Internally, she felt like she was going to crack open like an egg with each long, unanswered ring. What has she expected? Casey wouldn't know who was calling- was Casey the type to pick up unknown calls? If she did pick up, what did Alex even want to say? Why was she calling?

Really- why was she calling?

"You have reached St. Raphael's Parish, this is Pastoral Assistant O'Neill speaking," came a young man's voice on the other end of the phone, and Alex inhaled sharply. A church? Casey had called via.. what? 

"Hello," She said, her voice tinged with anxiety in a way that made her wince, "I was just calling to ask if there's a Casey Novak associated here in some way?" 

"Yes, Ms. Novak currently assists our church's community center. Has she reached out to you about our program? Would you like to speak with her further?" 

The monster in her stomach roared, crawling from her intestines to her esophagus and lodging itself there with a pleased hum, and Alex exhaled shakily. "No, that's okay. I...," she licked her suddenly dry lips, "I just met her recently, and wanted to inquire about the..." She needed some kind of excuse, something vague so this man wouldn't mention to Casey someone had called for her, "when confessions are... open." 

Her voice sounded clumsy and awkward, but apparently, O'Neill found her stammering endearing because he quickly reassured her and explained how and when she'd be able to confess her sins. "It's never too late," he had implored, "to strive for reconciliation with God." 

Strive for reconciliation. No, she was most definitely just striving for Casey. Maybe she actually did need to convert to some sort of religion if the feeling of Casey's lips on her pulse point had affected her to this degree.

When she looked up the church, though, pondering if she could make an excuse to drop by, its address was listed as in Rhode Island. 

"I can't do this," she muttered to herself firmly, impulsively flinging her phone with her fingers into the wall, where it made a satisfying thumping sound and dropped to the floor. "This is so fucking stupid." 

So she sat idly on the information she had. Olivia stopped calling the number she had now that it was pointless to attempt to do so, and Donnelly refrained from mentioning her again, and the echo of Casey's voice in the hallways in the back of her mind- a purely envisioned sound, because Alex had only walked through the walls of the precinct with her once- ceded.

Work was idle, and so too did her life become. When she caught herself pining over a woman who no longer existed in any space she was involved in she quietly tamped down the idea, agitating the monster, but the beast did eventually begin to shrink and give up, retreating only to the valley of her thighs where it snapped and nipped occasionally but was otherwise out of mind so long as she tended to it on the nights she lay alone in a cold bed with nothing else to occupy her mind.

It was weeks later when something happened to stir the creature straight back into her ribcage, howling and ravaging the insides of her flesh like a bitch in heat.

"There's a man out there assaulting cops, and you- what, Alex? You aren't going to do anything?" 

They were fighting in Cragen’s office, a scenario that had happened many times previously, but Alex always hated it, because not only did she need to verbally hold off Olivia but she could feel the blistering, scrutinizing stares of Elliot and the Captain in her pale skin. 

"We don't have enough evidence for me to charge him with anything yet!" She snapped. She knew this was personal for Olivia- of course it was- but she knew better than to leap headstrong into something that would get thrown out in court.

"Then tell me what I'm supposed to find!" Olivia raged back, taking a step closer, and Alex bristled in response.

"Literally anything that would solidify your theory-!" Alex tried to barter, taking a step forward too with her palms extended outward as if asking Olivia to give her something, anything, to prove this case. Didn't Olivia understand through all these years that Alex was just as desperate to lock deranged men behind bars as she was? But it always became too narrow-sighted for Olivia to see, apparently, because she just made an awkward growling sound.

"We have his blood-" 

"The sample was too tainted to get anything out of it, you know that already, Olivia, be reasonable-" 

"Maybe I'm sick of you being reasonable!" Olivia fired, and Alex snarled under her breath. Alright, a personal challenge was thrown, but Olivia apparently wasn't done talking.

"Casey got fucking suspended trying to protect her own and you aren't raising a finger to help us-" 

The blonde’s gaze averted quickly, flashing the captain a cold, harsh stare. Reign in your detectives, it said, this type of disrespect is not something I tolerate. Despite that, she bristled at the look she got in return, and the quiet snarl emanating from Stabler.

Alex turned on her heel and focused on the clipped tapping of her heels against the dirty marble floor as she stormed away, flicking her wrist in Olivia's direction as if shutting her up, which it didn't manage to do. Exiting an argument so abruptly was ungodly unprofessional, she knew that, but God she was going to slap her if she stayed. 

"Her conviction rate was higher than yours, and she took less to court." Olivia's cold voice shot out behind her and Alex froze in her retreat, "She wouldn't be scared of this." 

Alex believed the monster in her anatomy had just now effectively torn her heart apart, her mind a hailstorm of cold fury, and her exit was emphasized when she slammed the door behind her. Fuck that. Fuck this. Casey was not better than her, Casey was a fucking coward who was hiding in a church for some fucking reason.

And that's why, despite it being an active workday, she was in her car gripping the steering wheel so tightly the logical portion of her brain tried to warn her she was either going to snap it clean off or break a tendon in her fingers, driving to the address she had searched once again for St. Raphael's Parish.

It took a little over three hours.

She drove in utter, complete silence, breaking her demented glare from the road only once to turn her phone on Do Not Disturb when Olivia's apology text and call came about an hour or so into the drive.

The beast inside her grew two heads- one bickering and twisting her liver, demanding her to reassert her control over her life- HER life- feeling as though some expectation, whether it be the loss of her own ideal without Casey's presence or the expectations of the people she thought should comprehend her success were comparing her to a woman turning tail, were unfair to a degree which appropriated this kind of fury. The other writhed in anguish, needy and headstrong with the ideality of some reunion with Casey bringing her some sort of end to this internal torment. She gripped the steering wheel harder. Something in her wrist cramped. 

The church was old, and utterly captivating in aesthetics. A testament to an era long since past, towering spires that shot straight up to scratch the underbelly of the heavens loomed over the blonde ADA as she exited her car, feeling mildly dwarfed. The exterior was a dark, reddish-hued brick, lined with sculptures of angelic figures or intricate creatures imbedded in the sides of the wall, but if Alex squinted it was almost as if they were moving, telling stories of lessons long ago taught. The garden in front was equally mesmerizing, shaped hedges and rows of neatly planted white flowers emphasizing the cobblestone path that led one up to the steps, directing any who may inspect the exterior of the church towards elephantine mahogany doors. As if to further call attention to the entryway, above the arched door was a circular window, stained glass in faded yet alluring colors depicted an angel with open arms, ever waiting to look down welcomingly up on those who may enter. 

The weight of being in the presence of a building so magnificent while in such a blind rage seemed ironic to Alex, who was not there to admire or confess but rather seek out a woman she was still not entirely sure which particular emotion she felt about.

Regardless, with tentative, clipped steps, she began to advance on the pathway, eyes flickering about in a mild degree of awe. 

The interior of the church was simultaneously obviously modernized and still held the lingering charm only buildings decades old could muster. The smell of candles and books- rather like a library, almost, except accompanied by wisps of elegant perfumes and whatnot- greeted Alex as she inhaled sharply, eyes landing on the polished wooden desk, in which a man was perched waiting.

"Excuse me," she began tentatively, greeted with a broad, warm smile she inwardly immediately felt as though she did not deserve, "I heard there was a recreational center associated with this church?" 

"Ah, yes, our harbor for community." He nodded wisely, "Are you looking to involve yourself in the activities? I can provide you with pamphlets, or talk you through the application process to become a volunteer." 

"I'd be very grateful for a pamphlet," Alex murmured awkwardly, and the man immediately handed her a small laminated paper booklet that he had seemed to materialize out of thin air.

"If you'd like to observe, you may continue out this door on the side, and follow the signs." He nodded, "We do have guards who may ask to inspect your purse, but otherwise you should be free to explore. We abide by the principles of vulnerability, and openness, and our set-up is as such." 

"Thank you," she excused herself, beginning out the door he had gestured at and finding elegant posts directing visitors of the church to different areas. A community garden, a playground, and a small donation center were all directed towards, but she found the pathway towards a large wooden building a small ways away and began walking towards that instead, after finding the designated sign for 'community center' in an elegant, bold font. 

She had realized, of course, that she was in a significantly less population-dense area than all the cities she had ever been accustomed to, but this church's emphasis on community still caught her off guard. Perhaps less heinous crimes would be committed in her own city if people cared about each other to this extent, she pondered, flipping through the pamphlet as she walked. 

Part of her initial aversion to the place faded as a curiosity overtook her, a desire to investigate momentarily lapsing her anger and her twisted emotion, and although the monster in the ribs did not relent in its pursuit of a faux blonde it seemed content to settle while she aquatinted herself with new surroundings. 

There were sections for activities, such as fundraisers, clubs, and tutoring, classes on family nurturing and homemaking, and sections for group therapies for various issues. Alex skimmed them all, pausing her fast-flickering eyes at the appearance of every name that was mentioned, but Casey's didn't surface until she found a 'new additions' portion in the back of the pamphlet with detailed courses that had been recently established to promote education in middle and high-school aged youth. Novak's name had been mentioned as a primary tutor for the foundation of a Model United Nations, for kids in range fourteen to seventeen. 

So this is what Casey was doing- using her understanding of the law and more specifically politics and persuasion to teach children about international communications? Alex felt a stir of guilt in her stomach- not because of her earlier accusation of Casey being a coward, no, but rather at how the first thought in her mind was that it was a shame to see Casey's brilliance being squandered. Other people could do this task. If Casey was supposedly better than Alex, she should be doing something that demonstrated that prowess, not.. this.

Bitterly, Alex thought to herself not only was her assessment wildly unfair, but at the very least she should be happy Casey was in fact wasting her ability because that meant her own status would not be overshadowed by a fierce competitor. Perhaps Casey would've been in line for promotion, perhaps in the three years she had lost from her suspension she would've climbed ranks to a standing Alex wouldn't have been able to compete with. But no, she had gotten suspended, and now she was here- teaching children about the realm in which her presence was utterly lacking.

She was being unfair, really. Aiding developing minds was a noble pursuit. Alex should not be so critical. And she shouldn't be jealous, either, but she was. The monster stirred idly.

The center was bustling with activity despite it being a workday- Alex realized only when she got in that it was long past the end of school hours, the drive having consumed hours of her time, and thus children were tussling about.

The 'set-up' to which the parish receptionist had referred too was evident- the building was set up as one large room, despite it being two stories, with bookshelves as dividers between sections and glass for walls for the few places there were actual rooms. Large oak tables and metal chairs with plastic seats and backrests were scattered in a way that felt comfortable and almost overtly so, despite the fact it's obvious mild renovations were still undergoing. Perhaps it wasn't such a bad place for Casey after all, Alex thought rather sadly. It was comparable to the DA's office in the aura it emoted, the gnawing sense that something was happening, but with the hushed tones of students encouraging each other while studying or distracting each other loudly with entertainment or laughter, it felt warm in a way Alex was made slightly uncomfortable by. The stark luxury of the DA's office was also starkly missing- this place, interesting as it was, was certainly not comparable to the magnificent church outside or even Alex's place of occupation.

The pamphlet had said which section it was occurring in, and with clumsy direction and suddenly less conviction Alex found her way over there. The designated time had not started, but apparently schoolchildren were already making use of the room, milling about and chatting with each other.

Long, thin rectangular tables had been utilized to form a mock- courtyard, in a sense, forming a square in which all participants could see each other easily. At the head of the rectangle and different type of table was utilized the signal the chair's designation, as well as a rolly chair instead of the plastic ones the rest of the tables were accompanied by. Alex snorted at the resourcefulness, although it could also easily be simply the fact they didn't have enough of the same type of table.

"Can I help you, Miss?" A young girl with dramatically red hair and freckles piped up after a few of her friends had laid eyes on Alex with a mixture of wariness and curiosity. If this was intended for students aged thirteen to seventeen, she was more certainly on the absolute youngest side of the spectrum.

"Casey Novak teaches here, doesn't she?" 

"Miss Casey isn't here right now," the girl responded, answering two of her questions- yes, she did teach, but no, she wasn't currently in the building. Or perhaps she was somewhere in the building, and this girl simply was not aware. 

"Did you need something?" One of the older kids- a tall, lanky teenage boy, strolled forward, interrupting her attempted exchange with the smaller girl. So the children are protective of their own, evidently, either that or she was intriguing enough in her pristine court clothing and tall heels to pique the curiosity of another child who wanted to catch her attention instead.

"I'm a friend of Novak's," Alex began, rather self-importantly, and the lie felt strangely easy on her tongue- with how often she thought about Casey, it felt natural to say, but no, the two were not friends. "I heard she started teaching you all about international communications and wanted to see how it worked." 

The boy shrugged, "I guess it's okay if you watch. We're not in session for another hour and a half, though. Come back later."

Something about this boy's tone was resurfacing the resentment stirring in her chest. She didn't particularly enjoy talking to older teens- younger children were sweet and naive and she sometimes felt the urge to protect them, but kids like this she wasn't particularly fond of interacting with. And he was trying to send her away? Shouldn't he know to respect his elders?

"What are you all doing here then, if a session doesn't start for so long?" 

The little girl who was still eyeing her up suddenly glared at her, a sudden switch from the wary intrigue she had previously been exhibiting, and the boy's face flickering with some amount of distaste- perhaps the question had made him uncomfortable, somehow. 

"Did Miss Casey invite you here?" The elder boy said, drawing attention from a few other children, and Alex felt suddenly a prickle of irritation down the length of her spine at his questioning. No, Casey hadn't, but she couldn't really explain that. 

"I was a colleague of hers, back when we were both working for the district attorney of New York." A half-truth- yes, while Alex was SVU's ADA before her stint in witness protection, Casey had technically also been working for white collar, so they did in a ways work together, except they hadn't known each other then. "I wanted to come observe you all to see if her efforts were paying off." 

She kept it lighthearted as if she were jesting, but she knew this boy wasn't stupid enough to not catch the subtle undertone of challenge her voice included- although the girl behind him was, who become rather intrigued by the idea of her tutor's past. 

"Then how about I set up a little mock debate," the boy rose to her challenge suddenly, "and you can see exactly the lengths that her efforts have gone." 

He extended a hand to her for a formal handshake, his voice firmly introducing himself as "Eric Conner, Chair of the Economics and Social Council." 

"Alexandra Cabot, Assistant District Attorney to the Manhattan District," Alex responded coldly, shaking his hand with a firm grip that he returned. While his title was honorable as far as their play went, it was still only a piece of this mock debate, and Alex's title was real. The tone in her voice drove that point home.

She wasn't entirely sure why she was so irked by these kids, but as Eric Conner began assembling a few willing participants for a smaller version of a proper MUN debate, the beast gnawed idly at her ribcage.

Alex became particularly sure she did not want these kids to succeed in their debate against her. She initially hadn't been sure if Conner was setting up a mock debate for her to observe or to be involved in, but when he handed her a placard that said 'United States of America' and pointed her to a plastic chair, it became evident he did expect her to be a participant, and she riled slightly. These kids winning any sort of leverage was evidence that Casey had done better. This was noble work, nurturing the minds of the parish youth, and perhaps something in a moral sense that outweighed her own efforts in the law. If she didn't beat these children up in the oncoming verbal spar, it was almost as though she was letting Casey be better than her. 

The second head of her monster groaned and creaked, nipping at her lung while the other remained vested in biting at her ribs. This was wrong. She was a bit past caring in her blind anger.

The debate began quickly. Eric Conner was the chair presiding, the little girl who had both glared and stared at her with different twisting emotions served as Germany, and other children of various ages represented other delegations from around the world. 

"The Economic and Social Council is now in session," Conner began, straightening his spine and flicking his eyes down a few sheets of paper he had assembled before him- a script, perhaps, notes. Alex thought in the back of her head that that was sweet in a patronizing sort of way. "The agenda for today is ‘Reducing Economic Inequality Through Global Tax Reforms.’ Delegates are reminded to maintain decorum and adhere to the rules of procedure." 

"We will begin with opening statements. Each delegate will have one minute to state their country’s position. The delegate of Brazil is recognized."

A girl- older by years than the one who Alex had initially engaged with, stood, a laptop clutched in her hands.

"Thank you, Chair," she began, hesitation evident in the quiver of her voice- her eyes flickered to Alex specifically, finding the intrusion of a much older, much wiser woman intimidating. She schooled herself out of it quickly, though, and Alex wondered bitterly if that was through some method Novak had taught her.

She could imagine Casey's sharp voice softening, taking on a motherly tone as she sat beside this sixteen-year-old, pointing out flaws and statements that wouldn't hold water with precision, and then turning to her reassuring her of her budding prowess. The girl must have been scared of public speaking, everyone was, and Casey probably taught her how to slow her racing heart and formulate words to drive her point into the skulls of her opponents the same way Casey had taught herself to do in open court. It made Alex angry, that thought. That reassurance Casey probably offered to this girl had been used on her in Casey's office all those years ago, and she now felt territorial, or at the very least upset at her own imagination.

"Brazil believes that economic inequality cannot be effectively addressed without tackling the exploitation of tax havens and corporate tax evasion. Multinational corporations siphon billions from developing nations ... " The teen kept talking, but Alex wasn't entirely listening. "Brazil proposes a binding global minimum corporate tax rate and stricter international cooperation to prevent such practices. This is not just an economic issue—it’s a moral imperative. I yield my time."

The debate proceeded with various other countries providing opening statements, but Alex just crossed one leg over the other in her lap, staring around at the children speaking with a mild degree of interest. She didn't feel as though she particularly had to pay attention other than to the storm cloud forming in her mind as her imagination helpfully provided her with images of Casey teaching, Casey smiling, Casey laughing in a way that felt like a taunt directed solely at her. 

"The council will now debate the proposed amendment to the resolution, which adds the clause: ‘Member states failing to comply with the global minimum corporate tax rate shall face economic sanctions coordinated by a multilateral oversight body.’" 

This part piqued Alex's interest, and she raised her placard with a flick of her wrist to indicate she had decided to finally become an actual participant in the mock debate they had started for her sake.

"The delegate of the United States has the floor," Conner said warily, his eyes flickering to the gaze of his peers.

"Thank you, Chair," Alex started firmly in a voice that wasn't very grateful, pushing her chair back to stand in the fashion the other students had exhibited, towering over the shorter, younger individuals. 

"The United States strongly opposes this amendment. Sanctions are a dangerous and counterproductive approach. They punish populations, destabilize economies, and create hostility among nations. Instead, the United States proposes a more effective alternative: a multilateral compliance fund to support nations in meeting global tax standards and reputational penalties for violators. Let us build consensus rather than force compliance through coercion. I yield my time."

Conner eyed her, biting the inside of his cheek, and then glanced around to see which placards had been raised for a response- two girls, sitting side by side, who appeared to be twins caught his eye and he nodded towards them.

"The delegate of France is recognized." 

"Thank you, Chair. France supports this amendment." A direct opponent to the stance Alex had taken, then. "The United States’ alternative lacks teeth," - oh, so she knew how to argue, too - "Without enforceable mechanisms, this resolution will fail to create meaningful change." Alex bristled, not by the fact she was being debated, but rather by the way this girl wasn't fumbling at all- and how internally that registered to Alex as this girl must have been under a plethora of lessons and reassurances from the faux blonde woman Alex had drove nearly four hours to chase.

Despite herself, her hand formed a small fist in her lap, fingernails digging into her palm as her brain forced the mental imagery of Casey's hand on this girl's shoulder as she discussed how to present an argument. Casey's hand- the lithe fingers that had been in Alex's mouth those years ago. It was a ridiculously unfair thought to have, but Alex was starting to realize everything she was doing was unfair, and that just pent her frustration up to an even higher degree.

"The U.S. talks about cooperation, but cooperation without accountability is meaningless. Sanctions are a necessary deterrent for nations and corporations that refuse to comply. I yield back."

Without accountability? And yet her tutor was the one failing to take any sort of accountability, fleeing to Rhode Island and disconnecting her old number, not a word to her friends. 

Alex wanted to respond, but the chair had already recognized the girl's partner, the other half of the identical twins, who was representing Kenya.

"Thank you, Chair. Kenya echoes France’s concerns. The United States’ proposal for a compliance fund is insufficient. Developing nations lose billions annually to tax evasion by corporations headquartered in wealthier countries. Sanctions are a tool to level the playing field. We need action, not more rhetoric. I yield back."

It was somewhat of an empty statement, peppered with jabs at Alex's argument but made solely to back up the other girl, and they exchanged brief, conspiratorial smiles with each other. The sight of which softened Alex's anger slightly, replacing it with a twinge of guilt.

She shook it off quickly, though. Yes, these children were better at debate than she had initially summed them up to be, but asserting herself as a force more powerful than Casey was the reason why she was here. The chair allowed her to make a rebuttal, and so fixed the delegate of France- the stronger of the two- with a firm stare, the way she may look at a defense counsel, and the girl shrank slightly.

"Thank you, Chair. Let’s be clear: the rhetoric here is coming from France and Kenya." Both girls looked mildly conflicted, exchanging another small glance through lowered eyes at each other. Casey, evidently, hadn't taught them to master a poker face yet. 

"They advocate sanctions without considering the collateral damage they inflict on vulnerable populations. The U.S. is offering a practical alternative that addresses non-compliance without harming the global economy. Sanctions don’t ‘level the playing field’;", despite herself, she made air quotes, an unprofessional taunt slipping through her facade as she watched the girls avert their gazes, "They create chaos. If this council is serious about reducing inequality, it must adopt solutions that promote cooperation—not punishment. I yield my time."

A round, brawler of a boy raised a placard, and the chair allowed him to respond to Alex's statement. His eyes were cold and hard, although a muscle in his temple was twitching, and his eyes moved a bit too hastily from the chair to meet Alex's eyes. He was trying to prove something by standing up to the fully grown esteemed woman biding her time arguing with school children.

"Thank you, Chair," he took an inhale Alex assumed Casey had taught him to take, "India finds the United States' proposal inadequate. Sanctions are not ideal, but they are necessary. Without strong enforcement, how will this council ensure compliance? The U.S. calls for cooperation, but corporations will continue exploiting loopholes unless there are consequences. I yield back."

Alex ran her tongue along the sharp edges of her teeth, glancing at the chair, who inhaled rather sharply and then defeatedly allowed her to respond.

"Thank you, Chair. The delegation of India asks how compliance will be ensured—here’s how:" 

The boy had just presented her with the perfect window of opportunity to win, and she was fully aware of that, despite him apparently not recognizing that. 

This was an unbalanced debate from the start- several delegates were immediately biased as to not allow Alex ground to stand on, seeing her intrusion as a threat (which, she supposed, was not an unfair assessment, she had decided to participate for nothing else but to put herself above the imagination-Casey in her brain). The children who weren't biased, though, ones who were genuinely trying to utilize her presence as a means to engage in better and more fruitful debate, would now listen to the epitome of her persuasion.

"Through global cooperation, economic incentives, and transparency. Let’s create a compliance framework that offers support for struggling nations, publicizes violators, and uses targeted measures like trade restrictions when absolutely necessary." She extended her hands outward, a contrast to the students all of whom had stood up with a laptop or a page of notes, her free hands being used as a tool to provide a fake open gesture while she fixed each child one by one with a rigid, ambitious stare. "Blanket sanctions hurt everyone and undermine trust. The United States invites this council to embrace a solution that fosters progress, not division."

She took an extra second to exhale, raising a brow pointedly at the Chair, who grimaced as he watched the debate spirit in several of his peers diminish. "I yield back."

It was silent for a long second after that, the fight in the majority of younger kids' eyes fading out and the knowledge they wouldn't be able to argue for much longer when Alex presented her true legal prowess like this budding resentment and resignation in several of the older children's eyes.

Alex slung one leg over the other in her chair, raising her eyebrows and scanning faces to see who her next adversary would be, except no one presented themselves for a response.

Slowly, the small girl Alex had first been speaking to raised her placard, and when Conner allowed her to speak she stood up with a shake in her little legs and a quiver to her bottom lip. Alex internally grappled with her sense of morality in the face of the knowledge she was verbally brutalizing these children's debate.

"Thank you, Chair. Germany commends the United States for its leadership in offering a balanced alternative. Sanctions should always be a last resort. Germany supports the U.S. proposal to establish-" 

"Are you having a fun time bullying children, Cabot?" 

At the sound of the low, raspy voice, golden honey coating sandpaper, every head in the room snapped to the entrance, where an expressionless Casey Novak stood, leaning against the doorway idly.

"Miss Novak!" a hushed murmur from some child Alex was not paying attention to, the end of small idle side conversations or undirected attention as Casey Novak commanded full authority over the focus in the room.

She looked tall in her heels, imposing in her own right, hair still dyed blonde, although she had ended her attempt to make it look like Alex's- it was a reddish, earthy color, landing between blonde highlights, brown hair, and the natural reddish tint that she seemed could never stray away from. She looked older, perhaps more tired, but simultaneously was glowing with the same energy that used to bring courtrooms bending down to her heels. Her coat was draped over her arm, cold green eyes like chrome tourmaline fixing on Alex's frame like a..., like something indescribable to the blonde, or perhaps her mind had simply short-circuited in her presence and thus wasn't able to muster up anything useful. 

Unlike in her obsessive daydreams, Casey was not adorned in court clothing. The blazers and blouses Alex had assumed would be Casey's wardrobe before Casey had departed from legal occupation were missing, rather replaced by a woven cardigan with a turtleneck feature, blooming sleeves, and a taper around her waist to emphasize the high-waisted nature of her slacks. She looked like nothing Alex had imagined, Alex had visualized different clothes, different hair, different settings, and different emotions but one look at Novak's face allowed Alex to register that despite the stark disparity from her fantasy Casey was everything she wanted.

Casey did not smile- Alex supposed she had no reason to. She had no reason to indulge Alex in the obsessive ideal she did not realize existed.

Feeling awfully like a child with her hand caught in the cookie jar, Alex tried to return Casey's sharp gaze, but the faux blonde's eyes rested on her for a meager fraction of a second before instead softening to scroll over the faces of her students. 

The small girl representing Germany left her post at the table immediately to fumble over to Casey, looking up at her for some reassurance, which the woman was pleased to offer her in full. Casey half-crouched down, her hands finding the younger girl's shoulders and squeezing softly before her eyes flicked up to Eric Conner's in a silent questioning. He shook his head slightly and Casey's brow twitched, but she sighed and didn't force the silent matter further.

A couple of other kids, although not straight up leaving the table, softened their eyes and sought approval from the former attorney, and she graced each one of them with the charity of her attention for a moment, offering a soft smile to some of the more anxious kids and a solid, firm nod to the ones who simply needed to know they had done okay.

Alex felt humiliated.

The monster that had divulged itself in her ribcage clawed and tore its way up through her neck into her skull, ripping apart internal flesh as it grew in size. Casey was right in front of her now- Alex hadn't realized she had risen to her feet until she was standing- and she was ignoring her fully, not granting her the acknowledgment Alex had come here to seek out. The children could see the sudden flush on her high cheekbones, but she couldn't control it, the feeling of claws on the inside of her face as her cheeks burned warm, breeding an overwhelming sense of irritation and wild discomfort.

Pay attention to me, she tried to tell Casey with her body language, the stiffness of her shoulders only increasing as her brow furrowed, head tilting downwards with childlike shame. 

One head of the twisted beast behind her eyes cooed softly, longingly, I'm the one you're supposed to be comforting. I'm the one who needs you more than these kids do. The other snarled, latching into her nose and forcing a sharp exhale. I hate you. I'm better than you. How dare you avert your gaze from my direction. Pay attention to me.

Casey did not indulge her with that request for what felt like hours, although in all likelihood it was probably only a few seconds until the faux blonde turned to her, sighed, arched a brow, and gestured vaguely to the children as a signal for them to return to their own activities.

"Alright, Cabot. You had some reason for showing up- what do you want?" 

You. 

"Is there somewhere more private that we could have this discussion in?" Alex said instead of the growl that filled her throat, and with another sigh as if Alex was forcing her to pay taxes Casey turned on her heel, flicking her fingers in a 'come hither' motion and setting off.

Feeling awfully like a snarling dog being towed by a patient owner, Alex followed closely at Casey's heel, as they walked towards the front of the community center and then, to her surprise, out of it.

"They gave me an office," Casey muttered as if reading Alex's mind, "in the chapel." 

"Oh-?" Alex tilted her head, blonde hair spilling over her shoulder, although Casey couldn't see that from how she was adamantly setting her gaze straight forward, refusing to turn and meet the blue eyes so fervently drilling holes in the back of her skull. "That seems.." As though she was revered, to some degree.

"It used to be a storage closet." Casey cut that thought in the bud bitterly, "So don't get your hopes up." 

Despite it apparently having been a storage closet, Casey's office, albeit small and clearly having been burdened by the weight of time, was sweet. 

Alex hadn't set foot in the chapel's large body, but behind it was another large section for administrative care, towering bookshelves, and a few parish assistants on computers or with large leather-bound books reviewing or editing whatever allowed the service to run smoothly. They looked at Casey with warm familiarity, and at her with mild confusion. This was Casey's space, not her's. Casey's makeshift office was up a small flight of insanely narrow and high stairs, on a hallway in which her door was stapled at the end as if an afterthought to make use of extra space.

The wooden walls had been revarnished sometimes recently, but scuff marks on the walls and floors lingered as evidence that something heavy like shelves had been removed from the space, indents of objects that had been removed to make way for Casey. It was a very small space indeed, barely measuring eight by six feet, and the traces of cleaning products hung in the air as a testament to the previous use. 

Despite that, though, it felt warm. An old wooden desk had been pushed to the center of it, with a comfortable chair, and a small laptop Alex assumed Casey must've provided herself on the desk sitting next to an intricate antique lamp that cast a low, dim glow. The only other light source in the room was a high, narrow window made of stained glass- it must've been installed for the benefit of people looking from outside, though, because it cast odd-colored shadows on the floor, making her feel vaguely as though she was inside of a kaleidoscope. 

Pressed against the wall was a bookshelf, filled with stacks of papers and binders, prayer books, and little knick-knacks like ceramic jars and little porcelain statues of holy figures. Other than this bookshelf, a heavily used dark burgundy rug on the floor, and the aforementioned desk and chair, the space was unfurnished. No memorabilia or evidence of Casey herself resided here, with the only exception being perhaps the laptop if it was in fact hers. 

"Quaint," Alex tried to comment, but Casey simply snorted dismissively, finally turning around to face her. The faux blonde rested herself on the edge of her desk, her hands gripping the side of the wood as if to find some kind of stability in it, and despite now looking at Alex it seemed like her gaze was simply in her direction and her mind was somewhere else. She wasn't looking at her the way Alex wanted her to 

"You've got nerve, I'll give you that much." Casey muttered, "I'll do you a favor by not asking how you found me- but really, why the hell are you here?" 

"You disconnected your number," Alex said instead, taking a deep closer, avoiding the question simply because there was no coherent answer she could offer her.

And she didn't have enough brain space to come up with any sort of lie either, because the monster was ramming itself around against the confines of her skull like an impending migraine, desperate to escape to sink its teeth into Casey's throat the way Alex had done all those years ago on the couch in Casey's space within the DA's office.

"Olivia told me she had the end of my suspension marked on her calendar in a voice message she left me," Casey mused as Alex took another small step closer, almost predatorial, "I couldn't stand it anymore. Threw my phone out the car window." 

"So you just left the rest of us to wonder?" Alex barked, harshly. "Couldn't spare at least something to let us know you were fine? Olivia's worried about you." 

"She'll figure that out," Casey retorted dryly, crossing her arms. "Why are you here, Alex? What do you want?" 

"Why didn't you come back?" Alex asked, again dodging, sidling even closer until she was a foot away from Casey against the edge of her desk, her neck bowed so she could look up at her accusingly.

"Why the hell would I?" Casey snorted, "It was obvious to everyone else I wasn't cut out to be an attorney- I could only fool myself for that long." 

What? Alex felt her stomach twist at that. Casey... She had been so fixated on the vision of Casey taunting, Casey realizing she was beyond Alex's prowess and getting off on the thrill of superiority the way Alex herself used to. It felt like a startling revelation to hear such words of self-loathing leave the faux blonde's lips, the disgusted look in her jade eyes. 

Instead of softening, though, Alex felt herself becoming more rigid, more furious. How dare Casey speak in front of her like that, when she must know deep down she had achieved greater. What sort of game did she think she was playing? Sulking had been fine for the years of her suspension but that was now over and it sounded somehow mocking, somehow twistedly defiant to hear Casey degrade herself still.

"So what?" Alex snapped, "You're just going to start working for a church in Rhode Island and forget the rest of us ever existed?" Unfair, she thought to herself, raising her voice like this was unfair.

Casey snorted for a second time, blushed anger settling on her cheeks. "I don't even work here!- I'm a volunteer they gave an office because they know I have nothing better to do." 

"So you're living with your parents?" Alex felt the top of her lip curl up slightly with disgust, but Casey quickly silenced her with, "Boyfriend." 

Alex froze, an invisible force dragging her a half-step backward, and she felt her shoulders and spine straighten in cold registration. The woman who had laid beneath her now had coupled with someone else, someone Alex did not and probably would never know. A life had been made here in Rhode Island, the tangible evidence being this romance, and Alex was in no way part of it.

Earlier, weeks before, she had known she might've needed to acknowledge the idea that Casey would've found a partner in the time the two hadn't seen each other, and she had told herself that she would accept that if faced with it.

She could not face this, however. She couldn't accept it.

Casey enveloped too much of her brain for her to back off now, not when she was right here, not when she was staring at her so truculently. Alex felt a growl build in the back of her throat that she only managed to control by instead muttering in a low, biting tone.

"Do you love him?" 

"I'm supposed to, aren't I?" Casey chuckled wryly, her response more genuine than she expected, being caught off guard by her revelation. She averted her gaze once more, staring out at the stained glass window blankly. "I'm supposed to be a devout Catholic, and I refuse to be a failure on every front there is." 

As she spoke, her fingers traced lower to toy with the front of her sweater, the pads of her fingertips trailing along the fabric above the layers of skin and muscle tissue that shielded her womb. 

She was a Catholic woman, and Catholic women were expected to settle down with a man, avoid the strain of the workplace, and bear children.

Alex felt as though she may throw up from the bitter taste that exploded in her mouth, a slight undertone of panic filling her eyes. Casey had made it obvious earlier that children- not even her children, just the children of the parish, were a higher priority to her than Alex was. Her own child? Alex could never compete with that, not that she particularly even wanted to as a twinge of guilt, a taste of regret consumed her senses. She wasn't supposed to be here, she suddenly felt the need to flee.

"Are you-, Casey?" She dared not ask, but the words came out of her mouth regardless.

"No,” she sighed, and then added, “Not for lack of trying." 

The faux blonde before her seemed frustrated by that, but more so defeated. She continued to avoid Alex's eyes, and with a slow exhale Alex realized the familiar expression in Casey's face- she recognized it from how it had looked on her in the mirror.

Throwing herself into arms that would hold her, her life ripped out of her hands- literally- in a new place in a home that didn't feel at all like hers. Accepting a man who had done nothing more than smile at her in the right way as a partner, trying to act as though she knew how to keep living after something had destroyed her sense of normalcy.

"How dare you," Alex bared her teeth, anger from her realization cutting through the regretful feeling and smashing it to bits. No, she did not feel bad for Casey anymore. She felt ethereal fury and adrenaline pounding her veins, the monster exploding against the confines of her skin instead.

She stalked closer, her hands suddenly finding purchase on Casey's hips to push her until she was sitting on the edge of her desk, Alex towering over her as Casey's thighs bracketed her legs. Casey looked as though she wanted to retort something, but the look that flashed with intensity in Alex's cold blue eyes caused her to hesitate, a flicker of bewilderment in her gaze instead.

"How dare you sit here and act as though you're this pitiful wreck of a woman when we both know full well you're not?" 

"What the hell are you-" Casey tried to protest, but with an animalistic snarl from Alex's throat, she shut up quickly.

"Your conviction rate was higher than MINE." The blonde raged, her hands gripping the ridge of Casey's hips so tightly it must be bruising, it must hurt, but Novak did not fight her. "Even years later everyone still talks about the infamous fireball of Casey Novak, and what? This is what you're doing instead?" 

"Alex-?" Her voice came out of a gasp, that feminine rasp that made Alex feel obsessively territorial. The idea that a man trying to breed her had heard this made Alex grip her that much tighter. She wanted to bite down so desperately, but she couldn't tell the woman off if her mouth was full of Casey's skin.

"How dare you sit here idling and letting someone you don't love hold you when you have people who care so much it- it feels-" she cut herself off and Casey inhaled sharply.

(It registered to Casey, only just now, the possibility that Alex had come here for her. All these years, she had assumed simply that Alex had pressed languished, open-mouthed kisses down her sternum as a means to an end, a distraction from the trauma she was going through, Casey's body a way to seek diversion from the ongoing anxiety. Casey had been more than willing to indulge her in this, but never for a moment had she considered that it was in any way possible or realistic that Alex had wanted anything other than that single night from her. That Alex might feel the strange sensation of longing the way she did, the undercurrent of wondering she was burned by as she thought about the blonde who felt so far away.) 

Alex continued, then, "With people who care about you living in fucking New York still hoping you come back?" Alex's anger made her borderline incoherent, hissing and stumbling over her words, drawing her face ridiculously close to Casey's, so close she could feel the faux blonde's desperate exhale against her skin. 

She was then interrupted as a phone from Casey's back pocket went off, releasing her hold on Casey's hips to pull back slightly, snapped out of the momentary loss of control before deciding, no, fuck it, she was gone, lost in her obsession, and that's how it would be for now.

Without waiting for Casey, who looked dazed and almost contemplative, Alex ripped the phone out of the pocket of her slacks, reading the name 'Vincent Doyle' on the screen.

Alex raised a single, pointed brow at Casey, her thumb hovering over the screen, the hand not holding the phone pressing against Casey's chest as to block her if she tried to move for her phone, which Novak did not even attempt to do. 

"Is this him?" 

The wordless look in Casey's eyes was all the answer she needed, and Alex picked up the phone.

"Sugar, I know you're with those kids, but can you-" A voice like churning gravel thrummed over the phone, and Alex imagined a broad-shouldered man with an unshaven beard, hair a bit too long to look proper in casual clothing because he didn't own anything else. The clicking of keys sounded in the background and Cabot could envision him typing in an office, trying to persuade his girlfriend to do something, his phone held by the junction of his shoulder as he didn't stop typing to talk to who he incorrectly thought was his woman. Alex grappled with her sense of superiority against the comparison of Casey, but no, she was definitely better than this one.

"She's breaking up with you," Alex said flatly, her voice devoid of emotion, and the man paused, the keyboard sound coming to a halt. 

"Alex, I live with him-?" Casey bristled, a renewed burst of defiance that almost sounded like panic overtaking her previously numb expression, but Alex just raised the hand on her chest to extend a single finger to Casey's lips, silencing her protest.

She held the phone away from her face so the man couldn't hear what she said, and so the sound of his outraged yelling wouldn't distract her, turning to the muffled Casey with indignation in her voice.

"If you're not above moving in with a hook-up you don't particularly care for, then you'll be fine living with me. After all, that's what I am, right?" Alex paused for an argument that didn't leave Casey's startled face, "... I'm taking you back to New York." 

Casey's features sharpened fiercely but she didn't say anything else, letting Alex's hand drop from her lips and allowing the blonde woman to return to her call.

"Shut the fuck up," Alex muttered darkly as she realized the man was still screaming furiously into the receiver, "I'll have someone drop by to pick up her belongings." 

She hung up the call and tossed the phone aimlessly, intending for it to hit the desk but it fell onto the floor instead, where it didn't bother either emotion-ridden women further.

"Well," Casey said in a crisp, curt tone of voice, and Alex prepared to fight about what she had just done or at the very least argue against Novak sending her out and away, but Casey did neither of those things. The faux blonde reached and curled her fingers tightly around the fabric of Alex's collar, so tight her knuckles burned white, and dragged Cabot back to the edge of her desk, centimeters from her face.

"I guess there's nothing stopping this, now." 

Alex pounced before Casey could, surging forward in a way that made Casey struggle to stay upright on the desk, her lips nipping Casey's plump bottom lip with heady, desperate vigor until the quarter-second later when Casey parted her lips wider to allow Alex's tongue into her mouth. 

The first time they had kissed, it was hesitant, and soft, and they had separated every couple of seconds, soft eyes blinking open to ask 'Is this okay?' before being gently pulled back. They had been almost awkward at first, the moment having been initiated by a soft flirt that could've passed as a jest if one of them had wanted to avoid the heavy tension between them, but it had turned into a comforting exchange, Casey's hands slowly raising to cradle her face while Alex's hands slid to caress at her curve of her back, soft nervous breaths against overtly flushed skin like giddy schoolchildren having their first that sounded very out of place for two grown successful attorneys.

This was anything but. This was animalistic, Casey's hands clawing at Alex's collar, Alex's hands refinding Casey's hips and leaning, pushing, until Casey was teetering backward in a way in such her grasp on Cabot was the only thing keeping her sitting and not sprawled out on her back like she knew- like she hoped she was about to be. It had taken forever for anything more than lips to be involved the last time- this time Alex's tongue and teeth were pushing against her mouth in every way possible before she could close her eyes, Alex's fury building into the way she wasted no time.

"Fuck you," Casey spat when Alex separated momentarily to hiss and pant for breath, and Alex snarled back, "I hate you," but less conviction was in it. She kissed her again.

Three years ago, she had extracted power and dominance slowly and carefully, reassuring herself with Casey's soft little sounds, the two on equal footing until Casey allowed her to choose what position she'd rather play in the dance of warmth and comfort. Casey had been prepared to cloud Cabot's mind in a haze and fill her eyes with stars, but Alex had chosen to take Casey beneath her, decided that she wanted to hear the woman as she descended down the length of her torso, and Novak had allowed her that. She was on top, but her eyes flickered constantly up to ensure this was still okay, that Casey was not doing this purely to indulge Alex in something to distract her from the unrelated terror of facing the man who had almost killed her. Casey always looked at her as though Alex was some sort of angel, though, and thus she had continued.

The rush of ascendancy was something that became a lot more overt to Alex, now. She was on top, she was the one shoving Casey against her own desk, she was the one the faux blonde was clinging onto so she didn't fall. There was no question who was in control here, and Alex didn't have to check for Casey's enthusiastic consent, despite the fight blooming in the interaction Casey was a very willing participant and neither had anything to gain by only pretending to be into it. They both needed it more than the oxygen depleting from their lungs, evidenced by the way when they finally broke apart after minutes they were both flushed from breathlessness. 

Alex's hands had explored Casey tentatively, last time, pushing at fabric while making eye contact, gentle and slow. She had been so hesitant, in fact, in her pursuit, that Casey had kept chiding her with amusement. 

Casey's sweater had been flung into the bookshelf within a minute, and Alex slammed her backward onto the surface of a desk with a ferocity that made Casey groan and arch upwards into Alex's waiting mouth. Alex sank her teeth into the fabric of the younger woman's bra and pulled up and over, leaving the tangle of now-pointless fabric just above her sternum. The office which used to be a church's storage closet- they were still in a literal church- too fucking bad. 

"Oh-," came the guttural, growling sound as Alex groped at the expanse of flesh before her, her fingernails digging into whatever she could as she roamed across Casey's chest, her ribcage, her waist, and her still-covered hips. It contrasted immensely with the sounds of Casey's soft mewls Alex had replayed in her mind the past months, but not in a way that dissatisfied her. No matter what erotic sound left Casey's mouth, Alex would eat it up like a woman starved. 

"I hate you." Alex moaned breathlessly, nipping at what she could, clawing at what she could. "You infuriate me." 

"Oh, really?" Came a snarky reply, "I'd assume you were aroused by me." 

"Shut your ass up before I make you." 

Casey snorted. 

"I hate you," Alex began again, the sound of a zipper's teeth hastily releasing their hold overwriting the satisfaction she had felt slowly tracing each button on Casey's designer pants before popping it free last time, "the way you're so fucking talented but act like you're this whipped puppy." 

Casey tried to wrestle up to respond to that properly, but Alex slammed her back down with enough force she gave up trying. 

"Even though you do everything I was taught specifically not to unless I didn't want people to take me seriously you're this supposed unconquerable wildfire-" Casey made a sound of interjection, or perhaps she was just stifling a moan as Alex's hand separated the fabric of her undergarments from their rest on her hips.

"Hush." She scolded, not enjoying being interrupted in her barely coherent furious ramble, "-of a prosecutor who turns nothing into solid convictions-" 

Despite her not allowing interjections, she cut herself off to extend her tongue to draw a line up the length of the cream-colored soft skin of Casey's abdomen and bask in the squirm that resulted, before continuing in her harsh bitter tone.

"-And to make that even worse the police act like you're some sort of fucking folkhero for going down trying to save one of them." 

"Do you have any idea the lengths I had to go to to drag myself out of the glorious shadow left by legendary Alexandra Cabot?" Her voice was sarcastic, rhetorical, raspy, and low.

It was the first time the bitter note to resentment- resentment at being compared, grief from other's struggle to differentiate two successful, powerful female attorneys as individuals rather than cuts of meat to turn around in hands to figure out which would be the better option- had shown through in Casey's voice, and it made Alex freeze, pausing with her fingers centimeters from somewhere interesting. She was unprepared for that response- she could stop now.

Casey rolled her eyes at Alex's hesitation and bucked her hips, lolling her head backward and off the other side of the desk, her multicolor hair spilling over the edge. Alex scoffed and indulged her, rough and ruthlessly efficient. 

The faux blonde's shaking hand reached up to clamp over her mouth, her eyes squeezing shut in an attempt to stifle the sounds brewing in her throat.

"You're a cunt," Casey snarled through her fingers, while Alex was knuckle deep in her's, and Alex snapped back "I always thought that I'd be the one you'd have to look up at but it seems like suddenly you're the one I need to compete with for space even though you got yourself fucking suspended." 

Casey couldn't hold back an outraged whine, and it went straight to nurture Alex's ego. Her hips were bucking and writhing and Alex had to shift her free hand which she had been using to support herself leaning over the desk to push down on Casey's pelvis to keep her there. 

"Fuck, Alex-" Casey choked, and Alex purred unsympathetically. 

Last time, soft praise and reassurance had been all that left Casey's mouth, breathless gasps that Alex was beautiful, that she was talented, that she was good, that she was strong, that she was powerful, that Casey was her for the night. Alex had been content to stay silent, basking in the plaudits leaving Casey's mouth in such an erotic tone, but tonight- no, not tonight, it was barely five pm and the sun was still out- she was talkative as hell, and definitely not in the same way.

"And now- now what?" Alex continued, her voice almost mocking, biting, "Now you're hiding in a church acting like you're a victim in some conspiracy of the universe while leaving me to wonder about your absence and count days until someone managed to find some word from you." 

Despite herself, possessiveness over a woman she had no claim to filled her tone. 

"And you're letting some man fill you with seed so you can pretend that everyone who tells you that's what you were meant for is right- but it's not, Casey, you know that, god, you're stronger than any fucking defense counsel or other attorney I've ever met is, you're worth so much fucking more than being some man's subservient Catholic wife. Are you stupid? How could you do that to yourself?" 

Every ounce of her obsession, every drop of toxicity made available in her body surged forth suddenly, and she leaned flat over Casey's form, her fingers still insistent and harsh, her clothed body pressing against Novak's vulnerable skin as she felt words building in her mouth that despite their ruthless intensity she could not hold back.

"And if you really needed a dick to stretch you impossibly wide open to make you feel good about yourself, it very well could've been mine." 

Casey made the same sound this time as she did last, the muscles in her body contracting and springing open in the same way, the shallow pants from her parted, kiss-swollen lips as Alex finally relented just the same.

The faux blonde's arched back collapsed and hit the desk with a resounding quiet thump, her head rolling to the side, chest heaving with the effort of catching her breath.

The monster in Alex's brain was swept away on wide, blackened wings, satisfied, leaving her body the same way a demon that had been exorcized would. The angelic display of a post-orgasmic Novak before her cleansed the bitter resentment from her soul, leaving only a warm, tangled mess in its wake. She pressed both hands to the desk at either side of Casey's waist, blonde hair cascading over her shoulders and her bowed head as she panted, attempting to recover from the intensity of their exchange, her eyebrows knitting softly over her head, suddenly anxious. 

She had gone really far, really fast. She had paid little if any attention to what she had just said, and that was something she never did- her anger resided exclusively inside her heart, and when she did see fit to exhibit it it was through carefully constructed clipped words. She'd have to seek forgiveness for what she had just done, surely, if Casey would allow her to she'd comfort her like anyone who had just had words in that sharp authoritative tone said to them must need to be.

But when Casey straightened, her hands gently raising to cup the sides of Alex's bowed face to tilt her features up to meet her, her eyes gleamed with some sort of breathless triumph, a spark of defiant life that hadn't been present before.

Casey laughed, then, suddenly, a bright sound straight from her heart, divulging in little chuckles, pressing Alex's face into her collar in a messy, loose embrace. Alex was so taken aback by this sudden disparity from her expectation her face broke into a soft, nervous smile and she scoffed gently into Casey's skin, smelling the haze of post-sex mixed with Novak's rich, dark perfume. 

"Wow, you must really have it out for me." Casey teased, rearranging locks of Alex's hair back into place with quick, firm movements of her lithe fingers, and Alex took a moment to wallow in the woman of her fantasies being so soft with her, closing her eyes and letting out a deep sigh. 

"I'm sorry, Casey." Her tone was hushed now, shame creeping in like a dog tucking its tail between its legs, "That was a lot." 

"It's like you fucked the fight back in me," Casey chuffed, pressing a kiss to Alex's forehead and then forcing her to raise her head slightly so she could find her lips once again, "I haven't felt this alive in years."

It was softer, this time. Unlike the ferocious intensity from the previous former kisses, but lacking the hesitation and nervous undertone of their first, this kiss glowed with familiarity and deep emotion from the base of the heart that had been brewing for years and had finally burst into fruition. Alex felt herself leaning into it, tilting her head and parting her lips for Casey to explore the cavern of her mouth with her tongue, while she smoothed her hands apologetically over the small red indentations of her nails that she had made on Casey's torso. 

Casey's slacks and undergarments had not left her body entirely, only tugged violently out of the way, and thus redressing her was easy. As Casey lifted her hips to pull the fabric back over herself, Alex stood straight and fetched the sweater from where she had haphazardly thrown it, offering it to her with a small tentative smile.

The faux blonde flexed her eyebrows teasingly, pressing a lingering kiss on Alex's cheek to distract her as she pulled the sweater back over her body, where it draped around her as effortlessly gorgeous as it had before.

"Casey, I'm sorry," Alex murmured again, and even though Casey shook her head she continued. "If I'm honest, I couldn't answer your question- why did I come here- because I don't know. But ever since my testimony, I just- I just knew I needed to see you again. I'll fix things with your boyfriend if you want me to and I can provide whatever reparation you request but I just couldn't stand to never see you again and I can't say goodbye forever to you." 

"I mean," she hushed, apprehensive, because Casey was not obligated to stay in her life if she didn't want to. She had been very, very unfairly dismissive of whatever life the faux blonde had built here in Rhode Island, and if Casey preferred the lifestyle here she had cultivated, it would make sense to deny Alex her request. "I could say goodbye if that's what-" 

"You're a real goob, you know that?" 

"A goob?" Alex felt her nostrils flare, but out of bewilderment. "What does that-?" 

"Vincent isn't my boyfriend anymore, he's my ex." Casey corrected, apparently having decided Alex's snap over the phone was an adequate breakup, "and you just fucked me silly after announcing to me with full conviction that I was moving in with you and you were taking me back to New York. Do you take back what you said?" 

Alex didn't need to contemplate that, she just shook her head, looking at Casey with rounded blue eyes.

"Do you mind if I sleep in the drive?" Casey inquired casually, picking up her coat from where she had let it drop on the floor, slinging her purse over her shoulder, and picking up Alex's- Alex hadn't even realized she had flung it away from apparently she had- and picking up the phone Alex had similarly discarded on the floor and tucking it back into her pocket.

"Being pounded down made me tired." She finished casually, her tone that feminine, always teasing rasp, and Alex scoffed softly. "No, of course I don't mind." 

As if something had just occurred to her, Casey spun on her heel and clasped her hands together in front of her chest, wide-eyed. "Oh, you do need to apologize to my kids, though. You really scared Eleanor. And I need to say goodbye to them." 

"I..." Alex's cheeks flushed. Now that the overwhelming press of the beast against her organs had faded, the idea of facing the kids she had been verbally sparring with in some twisted attempt to assert herself as Casey's superior seemed overly intimidating.

Casey caught on to this and raised an eyebrow. "You did say you'd seek whatever reparation I suggested, right?" 

The apology to Eric Conner, the Chair of the Economic and Social Council, and to Eleanor, the little freckle-faced faux delegate of Germany, as well as to the twins and the heavyset boy who had challenged her, was very, very sheepish. They seemed to accept it, though, or perhaps they were just distracted by Casey's abrupt farewell. 

"But why are you leaving?" The youngest girl mumbled, her brow furrowed with concern, eyes flickering to Alex with a mild degree of accusation as though Alex was at gunpoint forcing Casey to uproot. 

"Remember the story of The Prodigal Son? The one the youth minister read to you?" Casey murmured, crouching down and placing a hand on her shoulder. "Luke left home and engaged in reckless behavior. I didn't do exactly that- but I did leave home, and I was living in a way that wasn't honest with myself. I was worried I wouldn't be accepted if I tried to return. In that way, I was too proud to seek forgiveness in the arms of my father the way Luke did- but my angel," Casey cast a small, reassuring glance at Alex, "showed up to tell me it was okay." 

"She doesn't act much like an angel," Eleanor grumbled, crossing her arms but apparently acknowledging Casey's story, although she did not want to seem like she was readily accepting Novak's departure. 

The two women set off, then, finally, after Casey had comforted the children she had spent the last few years volunteering with and assuring them that the other tutors- so, Casey wasn't the only one, apparently, there were two others- were more than able to support their debate. 

"You did noble work. You don't have to leave," Alex spoke softly. She didn't want Casey to have to detach from something that seemed as fulfilling as this, even though she hated that she was on the opposite end of a battle for priority with literal pitiful school children.

"A lot of these kids have troubled home lives." Casey averted her gaze, squinting into the distance, "So they spend time here instead of needing to go home. That's why I liked volunteering so much. God knows things would've been better for me if- well, anyway. But I loved being a prosecutor and the story I told was true." 

She sighed, then, "I just.. I didn't really think anyone would be on my side if I tried to come back. Olivia and I were so adversarial at first, because she missed you so much, and then she got you back … and I know Donnelly and the judges I used to have reputance with I need to work doubly hard to restore. The longing for the fight of the courtroom never left, I suppose I just didn't think I had it in me to endure beration like that again." 

She sent a crude smile Alex's way, "But I didn't break under you, did I?" 

Alex awkwardly looked away, knitting her eyebrows over her eyes with the shameful sheepish expression she had made when apologizing to the children, rubbing her temples with her fingers awkwardly. "Sorry, Casey." 

"When we're back in New York, you can show me just how sorry you are." 

The elder blonde attorney waited in her car while Casey spoke to a parish assistant and the volunteer coordinator about her leave, drumming her fingers along the edge of the steering wheel apologetically for the way she had clenched her knuckles white around it earlier. 

She looked up in time to see the younger woman strolling casually towards her car, and her mind flashed back to the imagination she had had years ago. 

Casey's coat was slung over her shoulder, her purse over the other, and her hips swayed the same as Alex had envisioned them to. Adorned in comfortable clothes fitting for a facilitator of education, but now leaving entirely to join her back in the pursuit of law, Casey looked like a triumphant soldier- but at this point, if she was anyone's wife (perhaps that was moving a bit too fast), she was her's. 

When Alex met her eyes, Casey's expression paused just the same way it had in her fantasy, the second between recognizing Alex was looking and reacting, and then Casey's face beamed into a broad smile. She pulled the passenger door open, swung herself inside, and then settled, clipping the seatbelt and crossing one leg over the other, peeking around Alex's car curiously before allowing her gaze to be caught by Alex's soft eyes once again.

The smile hadn't left her face, and Alex now returned it, somehow still shyly despite all that had happened. She pulled the car into drive and left the parking lot of the church, setting off for the long trip back to New York.

Alex had gotten her reunion, and exactly what she had wanted out of it, too.

[yuriskies]

A fun element to Otherside Picnic vol 8 (spoilers ahead after the break, if you're still planning to read it) is an easter egg about the location of Toriko's apartment. Actually, "easter egg" might be underselling it a bit; it has a huge amount of thematic relevance to Toriko's character. So here's the easter egg: if you follow Sorawo's description of her path to Toriko's apartment, you can actually find the building on Google Maps.

The train arrived in Nippori. Pushed by the rush of people, I got off, went down the stairs, and out the gate. I climbed the hill, out of breath, in the unrelenting rain. The wall of a graveyard continued along the left-hand side. Turning onto a side street at the top of the hill, I could see Toriko’s apartment in the middle of a residential area ...the building uses an autolock system... Getting off on the fourth floor, I headed into the hallway. The town I could see over the chest-high wall was misty in the rain.

The fun thing about this is that Sorawo's narration is just specific enough to follow along. In a way, it's an invitation to the reader to imitate Sorawo. Prior to the events of the series, she spent time tracking down the sites of ghost stories from the minor details that leaked into their narration. Tracking down where the weirdness happened placed it in context; stories from the edge of reality seem more reliable when the reality can be charted.

So, let's do it. Sorawo mentions a graveyard wall - this can only be Yanaka Graveyard, located on the west side of Nippori Station. Yanaka is located on the former grounds of the Tenno-ji Buddhist temple, and is one of Tokyo's largest cemetaries by area. It is the resting site of the final Tokugawa Shogun, as well as a who's who of Meiji-era academics, literati, and government officials.

The road along the north edge of Yanaka Graveyard goes up a steep hill, and where it reaches the top, a side road splits off on the left to go into a residential area. Going into street view shows that all of the buildings along this road are only two or three stories tall, except for a building at the very back. It's four stories tall. The building has an auto lock system at the front door, and chest high walls along the hallways to the apartments. Bingo.

The fun part of this is the name of the apartment complex: 山口マンション (Yamaguchi [Mountain Gate] Mansion).

The first part of the thematic relevance here is its relationship to Satsuki's monologue about being brought into the Otherside.

"What happens to the people who don't return?" "Who knows? They probably die, right?" "Life and death aren't the issue. Once you get to that point, that is." My brow furrowed. "What do you think mountains are made of?" Satsuki asked, smiling. "Trees and stuff?" I said without putting much thought into it. When I thought of mountains, the image that came to mind for me was the mountains of my home prefecture, Akita, covered in green. "If trees were sapient, they wouldn't think of themselves as a mountain. Only as a single tree. It's the same concept. People who go into the mountains, regardless of their mental state, are still people. But the wind that blows through the trees. The rocks. The birds. Every speck of rock covering the bedrock. The beasts, hiding in their dens. The ancient mollusks, sleeping in a geologic fold. The morning dew in a spider's web. The bacteria and microorganisms in the soil, breaking down the body. None of these individual constituting elements is the mountain on its own, yet the mountain is made up of them. So it is for those called by the mountain. Living or dead." She raised her hand, pointing all five fingers at herself. "That is how it is for me." Uncurling her fingers, she pointed at me. "That is how it is for you."

This "mountain gate" connection also ties back to Sorawo's previous visit to Toriko's apartment in File 4, where she opened the door to the apartment and encountered the ultrablue void of the Otherside. Thematically, this places Toriko's apartment at the interface between the surface world and the Otherside. The back of the building also abuts Yanaka Graveyard, and so thematically, also forms an interface between life and death.

Sorawo touches on this latter theme in the back half of File 26, when Toriko forces herself on Sorawo in her parents' bedroom. Sorawo becomes profoundly uncomfortable - equally, if not more disturbed by her surroundings than Toriko's behavior. After relocating to Toriko's bedroom, Sorawo realizes the following:

This home was a grave, and Toriko the crypt keeper—that's the image that I was getting. The sudden feeling of resistance I'd felt when we were in the bedroom might have come from that mental association. Even if it weren't the place where her parents had once slept, it was almost like flirting in front of a Buddhist altar. After entering Toriko's room, I finally got it. This room has color. It's the room of a living person.

Toriko's bedroom forms a small bubble of life in an otherwise dead house. The interface between life and death isn't simply close to Toriko's living space, it is actively defined by it. This ties in closely to Toriko's character, given that she's admitted her pushiness to do relationship things in the Otherside is driven by a fear of loss. Her mothers suddenly died, and Satsuki suddenly vanished. All she has left of them is her cherished memories, and she wants to form those memories with Sorawo, just in case.

Another element in play here is Sorawo's relationship to the Otherside. At multiple points in the series, the Otherside seems to suddenly draw closer when Sorawo gets stressed out with her thoughts about her relationship with Toriko. The most obvious example is in the hot springs when the mannequins appear immediately after Sorawo feels backed into a corner with Toriko's "cute boobs" comment, but those fears are also linked to Hasshaku-sama (both times the entity appears as Sorawo contemplates jealousy and the possibility that Toriko will be taken from her), Satsuki's surface world appearance (Kozakura implying Sorawo is manifesting Satsuki through her jealous fixation), the the love hotel girls' party (the lion dancers appear as Sorawo is trying to avoid a romantic bath with Toriko), and Satsuki's appearance in vol 7 (when Sorawo is considering where she would be without Toriko). In a sense, the terrifying aspects of the Otherside to Sorawo are closely related to the terrifying aspects of a defined relationship with Toriko.

One puzzle piece in play is a conversation from vol 7, as Sorawo, Kozakura, and Toriko are figuring out their approach to exorcize Satsuki. They discuss the concept of "atmosphere" and its ability to transmit emotions, particularly fear, and explore ways to change that atmosphere. Toriko mentions that she's mostly heard ghost stories where sex changes the atmosphere. Sorawo then elaborates to a doubtful Kozakura with the following:

No, it's true. There's stories where they were in a real bad situation, but then they started saying all sorts of lewd things and they survived. I don't tend to say that ghosts are this way or that, but sex is the source of life, so that makes it the polar opposite of ghosts, which belong to the world of the dead... At least, there's that sort of reasoning. It's an idea that's been around since ancient times.

Sorawo also goes on to mention that in some situations, the atmosphere can be overwritten, but in others, these attempts only reinforce it more strongly.

The thing about ghost stories is that for all its other indiscretions, it's an elegant genre in strange ways. There's not a lot of bawdy stories in it. Maybe that's because if you're trying to scare someone, and then sexual elements get involved, it hurts the atmosphere. Anyway, I only brought up the sex stuff as an example of how the atmosphere can get changed. It's too weak to be her weakness. There's some real nasty ghost stories with sexual elements, and there are people who've had scary experiences at love hotels.

All of these concepts start to interweave with one another when the two relocate to Toriko's bedroom. Sorawo immediately notices a change in Toriko's demeanor.

Her expression looked uneasy, without composure. She wanted me, but also feared rejection. Despite the way she'd been breathing heavily through her nose as she led me here by the hand, now Toriko was just standing there awkwardly. As if once she'd dragged me into her room she didn't know what to do anymore. Maybe as we entered what remained of the domain of the living inside this house of the dead, Toriko had come back to life.

This scene firmly links Toriko's fear of the Otherside (death) to Sorawo's fear of the Otherside (relationships). In her moms' bedroom, Toriko had been demanding, frustrated, and angry - the malicious emotional states traditionally occupied by spirits in ghost stories! However, she settles down when she enters her own bedroom. For Sorawo, passing through this interface changes Toriko from an unknowable force who inspires fear into a very human entity with whom she can sit down and discuss the uncomfortable topic of sex. In turn, this allows Toriko to an explore an aspect of their relationship that she views as fundamentally life-affirming. After this scene their Othersides are no longer totally different, or inspire mind-numbing terror, but are now operating on a common logic.

The concept of an atmosphere comes up again just after their first try at sex. Toriko has finally found a turn-on for Sorawo, and Sorawo describes the feeling in the same analytical voice she uses for ghost stories.

Until mere moments ago, our nakedness had been no more than that. Just another awkward state of undress, like when we got in the bath. Not anymore. My nudity, and Toriko's, took on entirely new meaning. One little switch inside of me got flipped, and it caused a startlingly dramatic change in my perception. It was mystifying how, as that change occurred, it swallowed up the entire atmosphere of the scene, including Toriko. Stuff like this can happen... I thought in a daze. The room was dominated by my lust which had suddenly materialized. As it overlapped with Toriko's desire, the atmosphere inside the room became something kind of extraordinary.

Prior to their second go at sex, Sorawo and Toriko take a moment to talk over their last remaining fears about sex - using their Otherside-altered body parts on one another. They come to the mutual realization that they have both been afraid of harming one another, but not of being harmed by the other. This last discussion is important, because it totally diffuses their fears around sexuality prior to indulging it. So as they travel into the deepest reaches of the Otherside, they have total trust and intimacy with one another - and an absolute lack of fear relating to what the Otherside represents to them.

The color of the calm world was blue. As we whorled together, intertwining, the ultrablue abyss spread out endlessly beneath us. We didn't fear it. Because this was our place. No one was watching us. No one knew we were here. We were the only ones watching, and the only ones who knew. So the only things Toriko and I have to fear are each other.

"Was it just me who wasn't that scared?" "Nah, it was the same for me. Everything around us was blue, but it wasn't scary." "I wonder why?" "I dunno, maybe because we were on the side that scared people?" Toriko got a mystified look on her face when I said that. "The side that scared people? You mean the Otherside's side?" "We weren't human anymore, were we, Toriko? When we were there." "...Yeah." Toriko suddenly moved closer to me and chomped down on my ear.

So to bring this full circle, this is why I love this particular easter egg, and Otherside Picnic in general. The setting is treated as an important aspect of the story, and it is carefully chosen for its emotional content and thematic relevance. Toriko's apartment isn't just some random place in an upscale neighborhood of Tokyo. It's a fundamental part of who Toriko is as a person. It's a location that lends a huge amount of thematic subtext to Otherside Picnic as a relationship story, and to the reader's interpretation of the Otherside.

Is it a metaphor for death? For queerness? For our ability to truly bridge the gap in understanding between self and non-self? The reader is invited to imitate Sorawo, and in doing so, finds a treasure trove of understanding. The little rush of discovery shows us what keeps Sorawo interested in exploring a totally alien world and trying to understand its workings.

Miyazawa's writing actively rewards readers for engaging with every little bit of the story, and it really tickles the analytical part of my brain.

[cremefrappe13]

Reborn (Saint Vanilla & Child!OC)

Again, the Beast Ancients AU and character of Saint Vanilla belongs to @cuppajj

I wrote this mostly for fun and I think it was an okay job.

Trigger Warnings: mentions of death, major character death

Reborn (Saint Vanilla & Child! OC)

Saint Vanilla had finally done it. He “purified” (disintegrated) his child at last. His first and only child, Honeyflower, had finally been purified by him. He remembered the face of exhaustion and absolute terror the young girl had on her face when she embraced him in a hug, and the tears she had shed upon disappearing. However, Saint Vanilla had felt a sense of… emptiness after he “purified” her. Perhaps it was his fatherly instincts disappearing after watching his child disappear before his eyes? It could not be though… He stared at the ceiling as he tossed and turned in bed, thinking about his daughter. He tried to sleep, but his mind was faster than sleep itself as Saint Vanilla kept tossing and turning, trying to avoid all thoughts on his daughter and what he had done to her. However, what he did was right, was it not? Her soul was so pure, and the sooner she was purified, the lesser her soul would be tainted when she “ascended” right?

Right?

Saint Vanilla was not sure anymore, as he questioned his own decisions, but his Messiah complex did not allow him to think that he was wrong, let alone even consider the possibility he was feeling guilt over his actions. After all, Honeyflower had been the sweetest, most innocent thing before she ran away and let herself be tainted. However, she had already been purified, so there was no point in thinking about it anyway! He just had to move on and finish his mission of purifying every cookie on Earthbread and finally transcend to join her. Even so, Saint Vanilla still felt a pang of emptiness every once in a while without Honeyflower by his side, smiling up at him or clinging onto his robe for protection. Still… her screams and cries of pain as she was “purified” would never leave his mind. “Papa..! What’s happening to me?! It hurts… so much!” “Shhh, don’t worry my dear… you’re ascending, just like Papa will one day do too…” “But I don’t want to ascend! I want to stay here with you..! It hurts, make it stop please, MAKE IT STOP!!” “Honeyflower, don’t fight it, it’s for your own good.” “NO! I WANT TO STAY WITH PAPA!!!” “…” “PAPA! PAPA..!” “…” “Pa…pa…” “…” “…”

Those very moments kept replaying in Saint Vanilla’s mind, still haunting him in his dreams as he tossed and turned in bed, recalling his dear daughter’s cries for him to stop the process, or to end the pain, and then the silence. Either way… she was gone. For good. Saint Vanilla continued to do what he usually did, preaching the “good” message on how he would be the one who would transcend to redeem the world, leading the Lambs of Penance (his cult) and continuing to purify as many cookies as he could, trying not to think about his daughter who was waiting for him on the other side of his path of transcendence. Other than his occasional waves of emotion, Saint Vanilla’s progress with his plan went along smoothly. Well, until Strawberry Crepe had escaped the Vanilla Kingdom with Frigid Cacao’s son, but he would let the Lambs of Penance deal with that. Saint Vanilla was just planting an orchid in his kingdom when he noticed a child, all by herself. He turned to her and recognised her as one of the children of a member in the Lambs of Penance. Saint Vanilla noticed the girl disappear as quickly as she had come, and it sent a ripple of something through his heart… was it sorrow? Or was it guilt? Saint Vanilla could not tell as he pondered more about his daughter’s fate. Saint Vanilla from that point, started to become disillusioned, as he kept thinking he saw his daughter in fields of sunflowers, maybe even his own orchids, or sometimes behind a building. Occasionally, he would think that he heard Honeyflower playing in her room when he passed by it, but all Saint Vanilla found in the room was emptiness and a hollow echo of his daughter from the remnants and traces she left behind in her “purification”. He would always sigh and try to shake it off, but even he could not outrun the clutches of guilt and grief, always being unable to ignore his mind’s tricks on him, making Saint Vanilla feel rather out of it. Well, at least until he saw a small girl, eerily similar to his daughter. The way she had ran amongst the field of sunflowers in his kingdom, laughing with the other children whose parents were Lambs of Penance. It was as if Honeyflower had been reborn into a new life. A better one, without the constant threat of Saint Vanilla trying to purify her, and without others pushing for her to be purified. Saint Vanilla, as he watched this from his orchid staff, felt a father’s relief, yet his own selfish desires took over him, wanting to “purify” this version of his daughter once again. And so the same, tiring cycle repeated: Born, live, “purified” Born, live, “purified” Born… live… and be “purified” It was just the same cycle of futility all over again. No matter how many times Honeyflower may or may not have been reborn, if Saint Vanilla ever saw a smidge of his daughter in other cookies, they might as well kiss their life goodbye, as he would relentlessly pursue them, to finally “purify” all traces of Honeyflower from this world. After all, a good father always wants the best for his daughter, right?