#the rain fogged the hell out of my camera so this was the only way to salvage those shots

[brendanjharkin]

Shamrocks for Palestine Ireland marches once again in solidarity with Palestine. As Irish politicians from the largest political parties travel to the White House to celebrate St. Patrick's Day with Joe Biden, protesters from across Northern Ireland gathered to march to the US Consulate in Belfast, calling for a White House boycott and an immediate ceasefire. When a Councillor from Sinn Féin took the stage she was subjected to intense booing from the crowd throughout her speech for the party's decision to go to the White House with the right wing political parties.

[sungbeam]

𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐝(𝐞𝐫)

lee juyeon x fem!reader (only f!reader cuz i used she/her pronouns at the end)

1.1k words, kind of fluff, angst if squinting, barely proofread as usual, pretty much just pining?

Yours and Lee Juyeon's giggles lit up the night, volume just loud enough so that you could hear the other squeal amongst the drumming rain against the street. It was a miracle that Juyeon had parked directly in front of Sangyeon's house, and the two of you practically crashed into your respective sides of the car, rain water everywhere and laughter spilling from your lips as freely as the sky wept.

Juyeon's cheeks ached from the wide smile on his face, and he watched you run your hands through your damp hair. There was a stray lock hanging over your forehead dropping water down your nose, and he reached over to brush it out of the way for you.

You turned to look at him with that glimmer in your eyes, and he suddenly couldn't breathe. Maybe it was the combination of the amber streetlights reflecting through the rainwater dribbling down his front windshield… but god, if he didn't think you looked so beautiful right now.

"I'm glad I parked close to the house," he said, clearing his throat, then shifting around to awkwardly take off his damp denim jacket.

You laughed. "So am I. Jeez, I do not envy Changmin and Chanhee one bit."

"Their fault for coming late," Juyeon snickered. He sighed and crafted a hand through his wet hair, staring out the front windshield. "Wah, that's a lot of rain." He needed to be careful—not that he wasn't already careful whenever he drove you, but he wanted to get you home safe and sound as always.

You nodded in agreement, leaning back in your seat while licking your lips. "Yeah, but I think we needed it after that hell of a dry season."

Juyeon felt for his keys in his pants pockets before realizing that he kept them in his jacket. He twisted around to retrieve his jacket from where he had tossed it in the backseat. "Sorry, we'll head out soon. Just dunno where I put my keys."

"No worries, Juyo. Take your time."

He fumbled around blindly before he hooked his hand in one of the inside pockets and withdrew his key ring. There were a couple important keys chained there, as well as an acrylic keychain frame of one of yours and his photos. It was cute—one of those pieces of old film from a camera you had dug out of your house's attic. You'd also found pieces of film of your parents; they had been young in those photos, just around the age that you and Juyeon were now.

Juyeon tried not to think about that too much.

He settled in his seat, front two teeth nibbling on his bottom lip as he stuck the car key into the ignition and started up the car. You both reached for your own seatbelts in unison, and Juyeon's hand went toward the front console. "Hey, you cold?"

On cue, you shivered just a bit, giving him a slight nod. "Yeah, just a little bit of heat, please."

"You got it." He didn't want the windows to fog up, so he had to turn on the air conditioning, but he kept it low for your sake, then turned on both of your seat warmers.

Juyeon flicked on the car's headlights and windshield wipers; he watched the black wipers swipe to and fro over the front window. When he was finally satisfied, he put the car in drive and pulled away from the curb.

Your hand reached for the stereo, turning the volume on low.

It was relatively late, even for a Saturday night. Sangyeon lived in a pretty nice neighborhood with his partner, so most of his neighbors were all asleep by this time. Thus, the road out was practically barren, and Juyeon met each traffic light with little to no opposition, rolling past in green-lit glory. He could feel the familiar sensation of drowsiness tugging at the corners of his eyes, but he kept himself awake. He focused on the road, the music, the pounding of his heart. He wondered vaguely what it might be like to reach over and hold your hand—or what it might be like to feel your hand over his where it rested on the center console.

This late into the night, your perfume had slowly melted away, especially after the run through the rain. Yet, he swore he could smell the lingering bits of crisp apple blossom and clementine in the air. Or maybe he was picturing the smile on your face and the damp hair in your eyes and the way you'd looked at him in the dim light—

Juyeon pulled up in front of your apartment complex, slipping into park along the curb. You and he sat there for a while, neither of you saying a word nor addressing the elephant in the car.

You didn't get out of the car, not yet.

He suddenly cleared his throat. "You can—you can wait till the rain dies down a little."

Your head moved slightly. "Right."

"No need to rush," he added quietly, glancing over at you.

You met his eyes in the dark of his car, his headlights switched off, the radio on low, and the rain drumming against the ceiling. "'Course." You tried for a smile. "Did you have fun tonight?"

Flashes of warm laughter, bubbly liquids, friendly faces, that fuzzy feeling in his chest—yes, he'd had a good night. He'd had one hell of a night. "I did. I had a lot of fun tonight," he chuckled. "What about you?"

You replied similarly, "Same here. I think we all needed something like this."

"Yeah. It's been a while, huh?" How much longer? His subconscious seemed to ask. How much longer would he wait? How many more of these nights, these moments, would he allow to pass before telling you exactly how he felt?

The rain seemed to dull down through the course of this brief exchange, and he could read the reluctance in your flickering gaze. You began to gather your things, to gather your wits and strength. The run to the complex door wouldn't be too bad, but it was going to be a run in the rain nonetheless.

Juyeon felt his heart leap into his throat. You can tell her now, he said to himself, you should tell her now. Your hair had dried just slightly by now, leaving it slightly voluminous and soft-looking—and by god, were you beautiful.

Your hand went to the car door, but before you let yourself out, you stopped.

You leaned over the center console and pressed your lips to his cheek, letting yourself linger for a second longer. "Thanks for driving me home, Juyo. Good night."

And before he could even comprehend what had happened, you'd locked yourself out into the heavy downpour and left him alone to his thoughts.

tbz m.list

permanent taglist: @tayunji @im-a-big-mess @honeyhuii @y3jiishot @crazywittysassy @seomisaho @stopeatread @enhacolor @rnjfy @jaehunnyy @kpopjackie @spiderrenjunfics @soobin-chois @mingiholic @ja4hyvn @ethereal-engene

[elvesandlanterns]

Ghost Helpline Part 12

Zatanna had told Batman her misgivings about the demon girl. Her aura made Zatanna feel small, and dirty. As if she was covered in a layer of dust she could never scrub off.

Her eyes, Zatanna had never seen a demon with golden eyes before. Red and blue, even green but gold? Gold felt like an omen.

The girl reeked of death magic. It was brutally strong. It reminded her when Batman had contacted her about the Lazarus Pit. His expression when she told Batman spoke volumes.

And what the girl got in payment spoke even louder.

Zatanna’s father always had warned her demons were evil.

—- —- —-

Black Canary was busy strangling her husband as Batman went over the minutes.

“Our cameras were unable to pick up much of anything Batman, sorry.”

“It’s fine I remember the demons explanation well enough. First-“

“I CANNOT Believe you could be so stupid! Oliver ! What were you thinking!”

“Sorry sorry!”

Superman pulled a grim smile, “Canary please tell some sense into the man later. If this has taught us anything is that we need to be more prepared.”

“Right we will talk about this later Oliver,” Canary released her husband onto their seat, fuming and lovingly worried.

The green archer picked him self up and turned to the blond magician currently drinking himself to death, “Hey what do you think was up with Konstelacio? Poor girl wasn’t looking too hot.”

Dinha will always admire her husbands caring nature but god sometimes she just wanted to shake him.

Barry released a sigh, “So it want just me then! She really didn’t look to good! She was even acting differently! Want if she hurt? Or in trouble?”

“Bear calm.”

John shuffled threw a stack of paper on Vampire Fog. Bloody hell, for the price of this information the kid really hadn’t asked for much. But the rest of them weren’t going to see it that way.

“She’s -“

“Are you serious? Are you lot seriously worrying about a demon? After what just happened!” Zatanna really couldn’t understand these guys sometimes it was sweet but also incredibly naïve.

“Hey now it was my choice okay I signed the contract with her. We need this cure, ten hours of my life isn’t much in comparison! And I know that so can all of you just stop!” Oliver could understand why they were upset he could. But why couldn’t the see that the girl had cut them some slack… again! In a room of self sacrificing idiot it wouldn’t have been hard to sell her an entire life. Or if her interest in Connor was any indication an entire soul.

“Everyone just hold your bloody horses okay! She’s probably fine looks like she’s got a bit of teleportation sickness that’s all, a magical equivalent of dehydration really. Some rest and food and she’ll be right as rain in no time.”

John said as he fumbled around for their copy of the contract, which was another thing demons typically didn’t let you keep a copy.

Barry vibrated in his seat. Robin, Nightwing, Kid Flash and Superboy (Jon) walked into the meeting. Barry couldn’t concentrate ‘teleportation sickness’, was she teleporting too much? Were … were they hurting her by summoning her? ‘Rest and food’? Was she not resting ? Not eating? What do demons eat? Barry felt his best friend put a hand on his shoulder, and welcome the boys. Right they could talk about this later…. may be Diana would understand.

“Fucking hell,” John was internally screaming as he looked over the contract, “Well then Arrow looks like your contract is air tight- however there is one vague loophole. And a kind one at that.”

Canary shot up in her seat, “What is it?”

John continued, “In the case that contractee cannot fulfill this request another may do so but only at the acceptance of both parties.”

The contract went on for several more pages, goddamn what nutter even wrote this shit?

(Ghost Writer did and made Konstelacio carry around several with her at all times.)

“Wait wait wait,” Wally zipped out, “What happened ? What contract?”

Dinha was too upset for this, nodding to Diana before Oliver opened his mouth to down play the whole thing.

“Well what happened is-“

—- —- —-

// Diana wanted to give the girl the benefit of the doubt, she wanted to get to know her. To hear stories of Pandora and make a new sister. So when Diana saw Konstelacio’s entrance she was worried, “What do you want as payment? I’m sure we can work something out.” Smile Diana don’t scare her, she looks hurt.

Konstelacio looked about the room, Diana hid a smile she really hadn’t thought this threw. Well it was alright, Diana tapped absent mindedly on her sword maybe she could convince a trade for sword lesson? A trip to paradise island? May be Hal was right and they should offer a pet ?

The demons eyes flicked between Flash and Green Arrow. Left, right, left, right, left, left, left. “Him,” she pointed at the archer, “I want him.”

The Amazonian got into a defensive stance. No one was taking her friend.

“No!” “No way!” “Arrow no!” “Stop!”

“Hold on hold on now,” John approached the circle, “You can’t expect us to hand over one of our own. You can find someone else to eat.”

“I don’t want to eat him!”

“You want his soul then?”

“Not really I just want him, I try not to dabble in souls too much. It’s too much work.”

“Too much work? Then what would you need a person for ? Humans are really boring you know, lots of work and needy!”

The demon pouted, “I don’t care I want him!”

John pat Oliver on the back as he nodded to Diana mouthing “play along”.

“Oh well I guess I tried, oh well GA say your goodbyes! I’m sure your wife will miss you very much old friend.” He shook his head sadly, “We will have to call your son. Well then girl how would you like to-“

“WAIT!” Konstelacio wobbled, “You’re married.”

Dinha rushed to Oliver’s side as if to shield him, “Yes he is.”

Oliver picked up on the act, “Yes here she is my better half.”

A look ran across the child’s face, “Well then I can’t have you then.” She stared to breathe a little harder.

“What about me?”

“Superboy!”

“If you don’t care about souls then it shouldn’t matter that I am a clone and I’m not married.”

Hera Conner no! What is he-

“Who said that!!!” The demons face began to shift in color, anger steaming out of every pore.

“What?”

“Who said that you don’t have a soul because you’re a clone? You have one! You have one I see it!” She begun to clench her hands into the skirt of her dress, “Where you like it or not, clone or no clone, Superboy you were meant to be here.”

“Oh I -“

“Forget it. I don’t want you anyway. I need the archer,” she begun to pace the inside of the circle, “But I can’t break up a set!”

She turned to face them, “Ten I want ten hours of your life.”

“Deal.” //

—- —- —-

While the boys sat and digest what they just heard, Constantine finished reading over the cures recipe.

“Bloody hell are you kidding me it’s an energy potion!”

“What’s an energy potion?”

“The cure Z the cure to fucking Vampires Fog is fucking magic caffeine!! Maybe even real caffeine I dunno I’m not a chemist!”

Zatanna took the offending papers glancing over them. She stopped at some papers that were bound together the first page titled like a story book, “Hunting the Sun”.

“What’s this?”

“That is our historical insight to the disease, or at least some of it. No doubt Konstelacio has a better understanding on everything.” And more than likely has already chosen what side she’s on.

Nightwing stepped up to look at the little booklet with Zatanna, “So what is it what’s the story on Vampires Fog? I assume this might lead us to what caused the out break?”

Clark coughed as he stole a look at Bruce. The Bat was updating the files on the disease, he had an idea and as Clark recounted the explanation Konstelacio had given them he hoped that they were both wrong.

—- —- —-

// Clark watched as Oliver signed an agreement that would lead to an early grave, for being Superman he felt both powerless and grateful.

“Alright so first off Vampire Fog was not a disease released from Pandora’s box. The sickness was man made to eradicate their enemies.

The illness is meant to cause the infected to move and think erratically. Leading them to ether kill them selves or kill each other. If anyone survived this stage the next stage would put them to sleep rendering them defenseless.

One side says Vampires made it to level a kingdom in the aftermath of a botched marriage. Some sort of petty revenge.

Another side says the humans made it. The king was a zealot that refused to marry off his daughter to a kingdom of monsters. So when the wedding day came, the humans infected the whole city.”

After that the conversation had devolved and slowed. Batman didn’t ask any questions it was worrying, when was the last time he slept?

—- —- —-

“What the Boy Scout said, it’s a bloody sodding mess.”

Damian stopped to think about this politically, he stopped to think over all of this not like a Wayne but like an Al Ghul. It didn’t sit right with him, the occurrence of this disease and new information way too much of a coincidence. Someone must have planned it on purpose.

“So we have two completely different stories of origin so what ? We got the cure what does it matter whether the humans or the vampires made the disease?”

Diana fixed the young super with a motherly look, “Knowing about the past can help us protect the future. For example know we know that ether way the illness is something consciously made. Which means someone must have made it and released it on purpose.”

“Right now we just need to figure out why.”

“Tt- isn’t it obvious the vampire scum are behind this if humans are the only ones getting sick?”

Boston, visible thanks to John, stepped in,

”Actually a lot of magical creatures have been infected too! They are just a lot better at hiding it. Especially in the larger cities, word is a whole gaggle of vampires died not to long ago from it.”

Zatanna nodded her head, “It would explain why some creatures have been causing havoc in broad daylight- uh - In front of everyone. Magical creatures usually prefer to keep hidden. But if they were sick and could help it. They would rampage regardless of wether regular humans could see them or not.”

Hal thought about the hundreds of times he had to play mediator over the years. He thought of all the aliens and everything they would do to win. God he hated politics, “so ether a group of humans or vampires did this in order to play the blame game. The human group could easy point at magical creatures and blame them for being out of control monsters. Or vampires could be making everyone sick in order to blame the sickness on humans while also looking like the victim.”

The league talked over political moves as they passed the little booklet around. Batman had sent the magians out to gather information and Boston had come back with a lot of it.

The book finally made its way to Green Arrow, he flipped the pages and stopped at the drawing of a castle. It was an old European style with only two distinctive traits. A tower with circle windows and a circle on the entrance grounds covered in swirls.

// “My home! My castle! My kingdom ! Everything’s changed.”//

After the “fight” with the dragon, Oliver had done some detective work of his own. He needed to know more about this ghost and had found almost nothing. But looking at this drawing, he recognized that castle.

The archer looked up at Batman, his shoulders were hunched taking in and writing down every piece of information he heard. His face was passive and he didn’t even bother to look at his sons. Oliver thought about Batman’s distrust of Konstelacio and in turn Captain Marvel. He thought about what he had heard about the two leaguers fight, swallowed and decided to keep his mouth shut.

Batman didn’t need to know.

[lilakennedy]

→ RESHADE: MAY

Hi all! ♥

After this poll, it seems like you guys really wanted a stormy weather preset, so here it finally is!! :)

It's a bit later than I would've wanted but I am glad to finally share it! This preset uses SSR for its watery reflections - And while it is super cool, it is very angle specific! You might have to angle your camera in certain ways to get the effect to look the way you like :)

IN-GAME SCREENSHOTS:

I have decided to make multiple versions of my presets so that as many people as possible can enjoy them! If anyone uses this preset for photos/edit, please tag it as #lila presets so I can see the stuff you make with it!! :D

This preset comes in 3 versions: FULL, MEDIUM & LITE ! Visual reference of each version can be found further below ♥

Full - These versions will be the most beefy and pretty much only be meant for screenshots, but can be playable if tweaked or if your PC is strong enough. 99% chance of pretty bad framedrops tho…

Medium - These versions will be playable for most people but still have nearly all of the more complex effects. Just tweaked to be playable!

Lite - These versions should be playable for nearly everyone and still carry the same mood, colors and lighting, just without any of the super complex shaders!

( PS - If anyone has trouble with the Lite version, please don't hesitate to reach out to me and let me know how badly it causes you lag, I will try to make you a personalized version ♥ )

FULL: Color Edits, Fog, Clouds, makeshift Rain-Effect, Reflections/Wet Floors, Shading, Outline

MEDIUM: Color Edits, less Fog, Clouds, makeshift Rain-Effect, less Shading, Outline

LITE: Colors Edits, minimal Fog, less Clouds, Outline

♥ [PRESET DOWNLOAD] ♥

♥ FULL / MEDIUM / LITE ♥

This preset is depth-buffer HELL - Meaning certain effects (Fog & Reflections, most noticably) will randomly turn off sometimes! The busier your server is, the more often it will turn off due to network spikes! As always, this is normal and a part of reshade to avoid cheating :) If it doesn't turn re-enable on its own, toggling the effects should help reset it! Also, this preset was made using the most recent version of Reshade!

As usual, light flash warning due to the exact thing mentioned above! This is most often not harsh, but it can be jarring depending on your settings and the area you are in!! Please just be cautious if you are sensitive!

After the file has been downloaded, make sure to move it into the folder that holds the your SSO reshade installation, then you should be able to select it from the dropdown list in your Reshade menu in the game! Let me know if there are any issues with the download or the preset itself! :)

Have fun!! ♥

Next stop, Pastel World -

[artzychic27]

The Artist Family? (new movie)

A month has passed since Marc and Nathaniel met and fell in love at age fourteen, now they’re dating

To celebrate their one month anniversary, they decide to visit one of the most romantic spots ever- The burned-down forest they met in- Only to run into some trouble

The mobs from their previous homes have still been looking for them since the incidents and were finally able to track them down

The couple manage to escape the angry mob with the help of Marc’s spiders and a friendly severed hand who cause a distraction

So they can get away quicker, That drives them in an old hearse he found in a graveyard

Marc: Mi querido, why must hoards of angry villagers follow us everywhere?

Nathaniel: *Kissing Marc’s hand* Meyn ziskeyt, I swear to you, we will find someplace so dark, so sinister, so dastardly that no one in their right mind would be caught dead in!

*They arrive in Paris*

Nathaniel: Huh. I see it’s changed over the last few centuries. And I’m noticing a lack of guillotines.

As they lament about how they can’t keep running for the rest of their lives, That, who was recklessly driving, runs over something in the middle of the road, right near an old funeral home shrouded by fog and cut off from the rest of the city

Marc/Nathaniel: *Excitedly* We hit something!

They rush to see who or what they’ve hit, and see that the figure is a blonde, pale young man who seems to have most of his organs missing

They realize that the person they ran over is Félix Culpa, a young man who died centuries ago, but was never given a funeral because the mortician prepping him got the plague. He regains consciousness and goes to attack the two, but Nathaniel just hands him their bags

Nathaniel: Thanks, man. Hey, you mind showing us around the place?

And that’s how Félix became their butler

When they arrive at the old funeral home, they’re given a very warm welcome.

Spirit of the House: GET OUT!

Marc: ... It’s hideous.

Nathaniel: It’s horrible...

Marc/Nathaniel: It’s home.

Weeks goes by, and more people begin to occupy the home, making amazing first impressions

Marinette and Alix actually snuck in and have been living in the walls for a short period of time until Félix found them

Marc found Rose resting in one of the open graves in the backyard

And Juleka Samara-crawled out of the swamp with her hair covering her face

The six of them share their backgrounds, sympathize with each other about how they were run out of their homes, and make the decision to change their last names to Artist

Now they’re sixteen while Alix is still fifteen

Meanwhile, down in Paris, Gabriel Agreste is taking the fashion world by storm, and his clothing (All basic and dull) is a big hit in Paris (For reasons no one understands but they won’t say anything for fear of not fitting in)

His son, Adrien Agreste goes for a bike ride through the woods with his two friends, Nino and Alya, where they come across the gate that separates outsiders from the Artists’ home

They’re immediately scared away when Marinette opens the creaking gate that sounds like the end of the world when opened

Also, Alix’s sinister sixteen is coming up in a few weeks, and part of the celebration is a swordfight, which she is nowhere near ready for

Nathaniel: Alix, you need to practice. It’s the day your family and friends judge you and pass judgement on your worth as a human being!... It reminds me of Hanukkah.

During one dinner, Marinette asks a question that shocks everyone

Marinette: Do you guys think things beyond the gate have changed?

Juleka: ... What?

Marinette: It’s been years, surely things must be different now. Earlier today, I swore I heard people.

Marc: Outside is forbidden.

Marinette: But-

Marc: Forbidden!

Back in the city, Gabriel is anticipating the arrival of tourists to buy his new line of clothing which he calls, Conformist

While filming a commercial, a red balloon floats astray and makes its way towards the Artists’ home, which Marinette finds as she’s “helping” Alix prepare for the Swordfight

Alix: Why are you helping me?

Marinette: Because. You are like my sister... And... I... Love... You...

Alix: ... You seem trustworthy.

Big mistake

Marinette: *Walks inside with the balloon* Good news, Alix is gone.

Marc: *Holding a sword to Nathaniel’s neck* Mari, go dig up Alix.

Marinette: You and Nathaniel are once again weakening this generation.

Nathaniel: *Points to balloon* Mari, where did you get that?

Marinette: I’m not sure.

Marc: Strange. There’s usually a murderous clown attached to the other end of these.

Juleka: *Gasp!* And what is this?! *Plucks a piece of pink confetti off of Marinette’s shoulder*

Nathaniel: Smells like cotton candy. *Off their confused looks* I was young and stupid, alright?

The Artists go outside where they find rainbow confetti raining down, and the fog that covers their home is lifting up, revealing to them the town

Much to Marc’s protests, Nathaniel suggests they go see the place for themselves

Marinette: This day is becoming most miraculously disruptive.

While filming another commercial, the Artist Family’s house is in the camera’s shot, and Gabriel passes out the second he sees it

*Somewhere else* Nino: ... I feel an overwhelming sense of... Joy.

The Artists arrive in their hearse, and immediately capture the attention of the other Parisians. They’re given strange looks wherever they go, and sometimes people run away screaming

No one has run them out with pitchforks yet. Yay!

Alix: Guys! *Pulls a tire off of a police car* They’re just giving these away!

Juleka: Alix, mind your manners, people might want tires, too.

After getting coffee grounds, the Artists come across Adrien, Alya, Nino, Chloé, and Lila in the park, prancing around in pink and blue outfits and singing about being conformists

Rose: Wow... That is absolutely horrible!

Marinette: ... *Dumps coffee grounds* I’ve suddenly lost my appetite. However, that blonde boy... Intrigues me

And it seems the feeling is mutual when Adrien steals glances at the gothic girl with braids

Rose: ... Yeah, I’m done with this song. *She hikes up the hem of her robe, releasing hundreds of bats that scare off the crowd* Done and done!

Done with these people, Marc wants to leave, Nathaniel insists that things have changed, but his boyfriend is still reluctant... Cue Gabriel

He insists on hiring interior decorators to fix up the Artists home (So tourists aren’t scared off) Marc, with some urging from Nathaniel allows him to do so.

Marinette: That man seems deranged. His face reminds me of a death mask.

*Somewhere else* Nino: In the future... I will have a new friend. Blue hair. Braids.

Back at the Artists Home, Nathaniel, Juleka, and Rose help Alix prepare for her Swordfight

Rose: Of all the Sinister Sixteens I’ve seen, Nathaniel’s was the stuff of legends.

Juleka: So no pressure!

Gabriel, Adrien, the design crew, and the news crew arrive, ready to remove the gloom and macabre form the Artists’ home

Félix: *Answers the door* Youuuuuu raaaaaanng?

Adrien: *Calling Alya and Nino* Hey, so I’m going into the creepy mansion. If I don’t come back, I’m dead... I love you too, Nino... Yes, Alya, I know he’s your boyfriend.

Much to his relief, Adrien is left outside and goes around back to explore

Gabriel: I do hope this isn’t a bad time.

Nathaniel: The worst!... Do come in.

Gabriel spends most of the time making light criticisms and jabs at the decor, the Artists themselves, their clothes, and Marc’s spiders (Which he considers the greatest insult)

Meanwhile in the backyard, Adrien is nearly killed by a crossbow. To his horror and awe, he finds the shooter: Marinette in all of her dark glory

Immediately, he develops a small crush on her. She’s not like the other girls at school who constantly cling to and flirt with him because of his father’s wealth

He tries his hand at impressing her by shooting an arrow, but accidentally shoots Rose, which actually does impress Marinette

Adrien: So, why haven’t I seen you and your siblings at school?

Marinette: We’re coven-schooled. But, blondie, do tell... *Leans in close so she can hear Adrien’s rapid heartbeat* Can anyone attend your school?

Gabriel and his crew leave, having made no renovations to the Artists’ home. And when Nathaniel explains that family and friends will be coming over for Alix’s Sinister Sixteen, that just motivates the designer even more

Down in Gabriel’s secret lair, he spies on the Parisians through a social media app where he fills the comments section with rumors about the Artists, saying they’re anarchists and breed spiders... Okay, so they’re not all rumors

*The Next Day* Nathaniel: Monochrome, I know the man is an eccentric, but- *Marinette appears behind him* Aah!

Marc: Mari, you know Nathaniel scares easily. Practice your lurking on someone else. *Marinette appears behind him* Better. Now what’s on your mind?

Marinette explains that she wants to atener school, much to Marc’s horror and Nathaniel’s excitement. She needs to torment more kids her own age.

Marc doesn’t want her to go, worried she might fall under the influence of the... Conformists, but Nathaniel somehow convinced him

Marinette walking into school: Ah, so these are the gates of hell.

Adrien, while being crowded by girls he doesn’t even like (Especially Lila and Chloé) becomes awestruck when he sees Marinette walking in. She looks like a beautiful demon queen

Lila and Chloé see this and try to intimidate her, but this is what Marinette says,

Marinette: Listen you future plastic surgery disasters, I’m not locked in here with either of you. You and your outdated, distasteful “outfits” are locked in here with me. And don’t you forget it.

Alya just might dump Nino so she can ask this girl out. Polyamory works too. / Adrien: Back of the line.

Mendelive’s biology class: They’re dissecting frogs.

Adrien: Aw, I feel bad for doing this.

Marinette: Relax. Rose showed me how to do this hundreds of times. *Cue Frankenstein equipment* FLIP THE SWITCH! *Adrien flips the switch and electrocutes all of the frogs* LIVE! LIVE MY CREATURE!

The frogs come to life and attack Lila and Chloé. Karma at its finest. Alya and Nino are impressed by her more than ever

Alya: It is an honor and a privilege to watch you work, spooky girl.

Back at the Artists’ Home, it’s game night! They’re playing the game of Death, but Marc isn’t focused. It’s late and he’s wondering where Marinette is

Finally, she arrives, but much to Marc’s horror, she has a Ladybug hair clip! He’s in so much shock that his face flushes red and a bat has to drink his blood

Marc: What. Is. That?

Marinette: Adrien calls it a “Pop of color” says it brings out my... Smile.

Marc: You don’t have a smile.

In order to see what’s going on with his sister/friend, Marc suggests they do ‘Tea & Seance’ like old times... Only she bails to hang out with Adrien, and they give each other makeovers as acts of rebellion

Meanwhile, Alix is upset because she still can’t get the hang of sword fighting and Nathaniel has been working so hard to help her

Marinette returns from her hangout with Adrien, almost making Marc faint when she shows up wearing pink and her hair in pigtails.

Marc: Okay, this is where I sever the line! You are not going back to that school!

Marinette: *Gives him the evil eye before leaving* You can’t tell me what to do.

Juleka: Dear Hades, that is some evil eye.

Horrified by Adrien’s new gothic look and attitude, Gabriel spreads more rumors about the Artists

Frustrated by the lack of support from her family/friends, Marinette runs away and goes to stay with Adrien

Alix: I always knew it would end up like this. Just didn’t know when.

Marinette: Farewell, Alix! I will never forget you, but I’ll try.

The next morning, Marinette, Alya, and Nino are helping Adrien look for his phone, which Gabriel his hidden punishment for his new look

While looking, they stumble across Gabriel’s lair and discover he’s been spying on everyone in Paris. Gabriel discovers them snooping and locks them in Adrien’s room while he goes to greet the tourists... And some unexpected guests

Nathalie: *Dials Gabriel* Gabriel, it’s an emergency. They’re here! The Artist Family!

The Artists more... Eccentric family members (Gina Dupain, Uncle Wang, Master Fu, Luka, Fei, Jagged, Penny, and the art teacher for example) have arrived to attend Alix’s sinister sixteen.

Things are going well so far. Juleka reunites with Luka, Fei battles Gina to the death, but Marinette still hasn’t arrived, so they do the sword fight without her... Which Alix fails.

As Nathaniel consoles her, a cannonball shoots through the wall. Gabriel somehow got a catapult for the mob to use

Marc: It’s Gabriel. He’s turned the town into a mob.

Juleka: I oddly admire his determination.

While the mob fires more cannonballs and destroy the house, Alix tosses her sword and grabs her explosives, successfully protecting her family... Until a cannonball blocks their only exit and she runs out of ammo

Just as the ceiling begins to fall and it seems like the end, Marinette, Adrien, Alya, and Nino come in just in time and save them all thanks to the possessed tree

She and Marc reconcile

Marc: I’m so glad you came back.

Marinette: Of course. There was no way you all could survive without me. You’re like weak kittens.

The Parisians begin having regrets about attacking the Artists (Mainly cuz they almost killed a bunch of kids), but this is interrupted by Gabriel

Gabriel: I will relish hounding you all until that nuclear waste dump you call is house is destroyed with you all in it!

Juleka: Oh, you are just begging to be dragged down to hell, aren’t you, Gabriel?

Marinette: And this family will never run from the likes of you again. *Her death glare stuns Gabriel*

Nino: Damn, I gotta learn how to do that.

Adrien finally stands up to his father and exposes how he’s been spying on everyone in the city while Alya live streams everything. Gabriel is now ruined

Months later, the Artists’ Home has been rebuilt by the guilty Parisians who learn to accept their new, weird neighbors. Also, the Spirit of the House has returned

Adrien and Marinette start dating while Alya and Nino share a mutual pining for the girl

[be-ready-when-i-say-go]

Umm maybe one with Cal (obvi lol) where he randomly posts you. Maybe you've been dating for 3 years and they only see blurs of your face or the back of your head when you go see him or go to events with him. And its a long ass caption about how you're that BITCH and he loves you so much. And then you see and are like "bro wtf" and you ask him about and he shrugs it off and says he wanted to world to see his world

So, I’m a whole dumbass and accidentally deleted the first draft of this. But I managed to save it, even though I have the memory of a goldfish. I hope you enjoy. 

Take a gander at my masterlist!

Reader Insert. No specific race, gender, or sexuality! 

__________________________________

Gratitude

Calum’s body is sprawled across yours. His head is on your chest. His arms are wrapped around you, meeting at your back, hugging you like a child clutches onto their favorite stuffed animal. But it’s you. And you are no stuffed animal. Your fingers lightly drag through the blonde but turning brunette strands. They’ve started to curl in around each other. You wonder if he’s ever going to ask you to cut his hair, if you guys will join the cull of people in desperate times. He has clippers and guards under the sink. It’s not like he hasn’t resorted to the buzz at home before. You’re not going to push it though. There’s enough to worry about as it stands. 

There’s promotion before the album’s release and now after too. There are interviews at all times of the day it seems. There was shooting at home for the ‘Wildflower’ music video. If it’s not something he brings up, you’re definitely not going too. There’s plenty already to worry about. Maybe even too much to worry about. But you’re glad that Calum’s found a moment to rest. It’s evaded you though, for the moment and for the last couple of days if you’re honest. Even with a pretty consistent sleep schedule, you still find your mind racing. Like there’s not plenty of time for that during the day. 

Reaching up, you grab your phone from the edge of the back of the couch, right on the ledge. You placed it there not worried about it falling, when Calum first collapsed into you. You figure there’s nothing wrong, for the moment, to expose yourself to some blue light and social media. It all feels like a fog though. Twitter is nothing but the same memes, the same ads, the sameness of everyone ghosting into a void where sometimes the void echoes back. And down and down you go, liking some tweets here and there, but to no avail to find any real distractions. Occasionally, you snort at a meme, but it’s just a quick chuckle. 

You turn to Instagram. You’re bound to have the same results, something so mind numbing it can’t even numb anymore. And as the app loads, you watch all the people with icons shuffling across the top of the screen. You tap on the first one and let it cycle all the way through, before repeatedly tapping through them. You pause at ones that look interesting, watching them all the way through. One hand drifts back down to Calum’s head, scratching ever so lightly at his scalp. He burrows deeper into you, squeezing you in his arms just a little. 

Swiping away from the stories, you scroll the posts and not even three posts down, you notice the photo of yourself. Then you see Calum’s account as the culprit. It’s of your silhouette mostly as you twirl under streetlights. You remember then the photo was snapped. Just eight months into your relationship and you had been given a promotion at work. Calum wanted to celebrate by grabbing a quick treat from your favorite bakery. It was late and you felt like being a little fancy, and stopped by a bar just to grab one drink. One celebratory drink. And as the two of you exited, rain started to fall. Rain in L.A. isn’t too common and you had to bask in the moment, just for a moment, since it was so light. So you started laughing as you spun around the sidewalk. You hadn’t even noticed Calum snapping the photo until you saw it as his homescreen two weeks later. 

There are several blue dots at the bottom of the picture. So you swipe left. This photo is of you, too, but your face is mostly hidden by Duke’s body, just a portion of your forehead and eye visible because of the angle. It had to be from a year or so into the relationship given the style and length of your hair. And you nearly laugh at yourself for thinking that a year was so early on, now that you’re three years into this. But god, it really was early on. Now you can’t picture your morning routine without Calum being grumpy and without Duke whining to be let out and Calum pouting that Duke’s steals all your attention. You always rectify the pouts with two kisses to his forehead and never less than those two kisses either. 

Taking a quick moment, you look around for the old man and spy him curled up at the end of your feet. And you have to grin. He’s never too far from Calum at all when Calum’s home. You turn your attention back to your phone and swipe again. The next photo is of half your face. A little blurred thanks to Calum’s shaky hands and questionable photography skills. But you can tell, thanks to the grass below and the wristband this was from the Coachella adventures. You swipe again. It’s your full face, hidden by some shadows as you laugh from the top of the ladder. From the ventures of painting the bedroom again, it was nothing drastic but still, took you and Calum two days to finish the painting. As you swipe again, there’s one last photo, of you three days, grinning hard into the camera while leaning against the kitchen counter. You were just waiting for the water to boil and listening to a podcast before starting dinner. You noticed Calum coming into the kitchen and when he mumbled for you to look up at him, you saw the phone and smiled as hard as you could. 

As time goes on, things get clearer. Being with you just makes sense. And I know when you see this, you’ll probably be a little mad. Duke, I’ll need to share that bed with you. I can only hope it’s big enough.  I’m not sure why it’s hard to say to you right now, face to face. You’re just on the couch and I’m just at the kitchen table. And I know, I’m a pretty private guy. But something about being with you just makes sense, so much damn sense. It’s just been us, when the road got narrow and when it was all too easy to walk, hell, maybe even run along, we still had each other. No relationship sails smoothly and no planes out there that’s ever flown doesn’t hit some turbulence. Every time though, we’ve come out stronger and together still. There’s no important date for this, the 3rd anniversary has come and gone, but there seems like no better time to say thank you. So, thankyou. Thankyou. Thankyou.  

You don’t realize there are tears until one slips down your cheek and splashes onto the phone screen. Your inhale is shaky and you’re trying to swallow down the sobs. They still come through, like coughs from your chest and you’re sure you’re trembling. Calum feels you shaking, squeezing again unsure if you’re moving out from underneath him. “Five more minutes,” he mumbles, readjusting the position of his head. 

He doesn’t miss the sniffle though and when he sits up, eyes admittedly still puffy with sleep, and sees you with one hand over your mouth and tears streaking your face, he panics. “Baby? What the hell happened?” He’s cupping your face, wiping at the tears and soon, he’s sitting completely up, and against the couch cushions. You pull your leg out from behind his body. Calum waste no time to tuck you up into his arms, chin resting on the top of your head. “It’s okay. It’s okay. I’m here for you.”

“I saw the post,” you manage to get out, now able to control the emotions racking through you. 

His grip slackens. You hear the rumble of his soft laugh. “So is the couch cushions my source of warmth tonight?”

You have no problem with Calum posting photos. You just hadn’t expected him to post something like that. Pushing up to your knees, you gently cup his cheek. He reciprocates the tender hold. “No, I was just shocked that’s all. Came out of left field.” His thumb clears away the stray tears and yours just gently brushes along the stumble that’s started to prick through his skin. 

“I just love you, that’s all. And we’ve been together for three years and I can see three more together, and three more after that. And three more after that. And three more after that. And three more after. And hell, twenty after that. Just wanted the world to see my world.”

“Calum Thomas, you’re so fucking cheesy, but goddamn do I love you.” He gives a quick smile before you capture his lips, hands cupping both cheeks. And soon you trail them up his nose, kissing between his brows, over each eye and then kissing twice on his forehead. 

-H

[celestialvexation]

Psithurism

this is a commission for @alessa-not-me! the request was to expand more on the idea of henry being a local urban legend uvu~!

It was the set of footsteps that first got your attention. You couldn’t pinpoint the exact location of where they’re coming from, the fog so dense and thick that you likened it to a whiteout. It’s like you’re floating in the sky. Weightless...and numb to the world. You even wondered if you’re somehow kept within this strangle bubble that keeps you away from reality; if it weren’t for the fact that there had been people walking about, you would have been convinced of that thought.

It should have frightened you...as should these footsteps yet you felt nothing but calm. 

It’s almost like you’re anticipating the arrival of who or whatever this was. Despite the fact that there are little to no noises that would prove to you that yes, this is indeed reality and you’re experiencing nothing but a strange, yet explainable weather phenomena ( you can recall the night when it rained quite heavily )...you are holding your breath. Where is this person...or whatever it’s to be? 

That’s when you also heard something strange -- a clicking noise. At first, your thoughts turned to some abominable monstrosity that had clicking mandibles or a giant insect awaiting its next meal. You hurriedly cast that absurd thought away the more you heard it. 

It’s rhythmic… Almost mechanical in a way. 

...A camera?

Who would be taking pictures in the middle of a dense fog? Unless you are completely blind to your surroundings, there shouldn’t be any reason to take candid photos of...anything, really. Even the grand, preposterous landmarks in this quiet town have been swallowed by the mist. You can remember there being a lake but...that wouldn’t be visible either. 

You nervously wet your lips, thinking that it’s nearing time to actually announce your presence. If that’s to be a camera, then surely it’s someone of flesh and blood? Someone that can help you find your sense of direction ( you’re glad that it’s in the middle of the day )! You let out a hesitant, “Hello..?” and the clicking stopped. Your brows knitted together in slight confusion. So...it is someone taking pictures? How odd. 

You started forward. Your feet are aching from previous strolls but this rush prompted you to not care or notice. Each step forward is bringing you closer until you see a vague silhouette. It appeared to be a person -- a man? It looked like one so with that, you grew bolder as you continued. “Excuse me! Can you let me know where I am? I got lost...even though I know this place like the back of my hand…” A chuckle, whether nervous or sheepish, echoed around the area as you scratched the back of your head. 

“I didn’t expect it to be...this foggy. I know it’s weird...but…” 

You trailed off when you noticed that the person didn’t turn nor did they give any indication that they even heard you. You wondered if this is simply an object that’s vaguely shaped like a human. A soft sigh came from your lips as you thought that. You must have been exhausted! Here you are, not only hearing things but talking to...a literal damn object. It wasn’t like you’re overworking yourself or anything! 

It’s just… 

...Ah, perhaps it would have been a better idea to stay at home instead of walking around like a fool. 

You were about to turn on your heel to return back from when you came from...before you heard it. A scuffle along the pavement. The front of a shoe turning on the concrete as you saw the figure moving. Their head… You swallowed once before you got closer to see it for yourself.

That’s when you saw it.

Or rather...him.

It’s a man, holding some object in his hand. His hands were poised to use it, in front of his face, but his head isn’t focused on that. You can finally make out features. Brown hair… Styled casually that nearly covered one eye -- of which they are to be a deep green ( wonder if they appear lovely in the sunlight… ). They are also downturned in a way to convey a...weariness? You can’t help but feel pity when you see just how exhausted he looked like he hadn’t had a good night’s sleep in weeks or months. However, there is a certain level of kindness to them that nearly took your breath away. 

Not to say they’re practically illuminating, but there’s a shine there that is not yet snuffed away by stress or misery… 

His pink lips are turned down in bewilderment before he’s to look away. You blinked once. Twice. “Uh, sorry…” you began as you held up your hands. “I didn’t mean to startle you or anything! I didn’t see you because of all of this fog. I uh… See, I haven’t been resting lately so I must look like an idiot or some weirdo, huh?” 

In spite of you rambling, you saw him listening quite intently. His gaze...is a strange one. Not like he’s distracted or faraway, but… You just can’t explain it. 

You also can’t explain why he just feels...familiar, for some odd reason. You did live in an apartment, which isn’t far away if you remembered the usual paths you’ve taken, so perhaps he is a neighbor there and you just hadn’t noticed? Well, it could happen since everyone’s to be so wrapped up with their own lives -- it isn’t like you’re to notice and take into great detail of every single person you come across! 

The man would then lower his camera, now appearing...shy? No, embarrassed? What was there to be embarrassed about? You saw his bottom lip being bitten then moved to form words...except, whatever is being said is either mumbled or he’s just forming words for the hell of it. Could he not speak? Is he having difficulty? 

“I’m...I’m sorry, but can you repeat that?” you asked as you stepped towards him to hear better. That’s prompted him to move away. At least two steps that’s taking him further into the dense fog. “H-Hey, man, I’m just wanting to hear what you said! Is...something wrong?” He didn’t look frightened, but there’s something about him that compels you somehow. 

You wonder if you’re the one that’s making him feel unsettled. Why wouldn’t he be? That’s when you realized that you are making yourself look just as strange -- this is merely fog that’s covering you both! All you needed to do is stay calm, find a familiar pathway to take you home, and completely forget that you’re here wandering around aimlessly like a lost puppy. Just approaching random strangers like they’re old friends that knew of your predicament. Now, how embarrassing is that!? 

“Uh...look, man, I…” 

However, just as you started to apologize, the man suddenly turned and walked off into the fog. Great, you frightened him away, but… 

“Hey, wait!” Why? Why are you even acting like this? You can’t wrap your head around it as you followed after him. Perhaps it’s to see if he’s truly alright. What if he’s attempting to hide from someone? 

What if he’s thinking...some very unpleasant thoughts and is only taking pictures because it’s the only means to ground him? 

These strange ideas aren’t registered to you as you continue to follow after him. How did he even gain that much distance away from you within minutes? Where did he go? “Wait! I know this looks weird and all, but..! Just wait!” you cried out, seeing his figure slowly becoming fainter until all you could hear are his footsteps. Even then, they are growing further away. You ran by what looked to be structures of a playground and that’s when you remembered. 

Oh, you’re at the park! 

That’s right, you’ve been wanting a quick stroll through here and you hadn’t taken account of how thick this fog would be. 

Judging by the placement of those structures, you aren’t that far from the entrance -- only about ten more minutes of walking. So whoever that man was, he could be seen if he crossed the street. However, as you finally reached the entrance, the sound of a car horn startled you. You jumped then watched as headlights shined down the road and the car itself drove on by. The driver hadn’t been him, though. 

In fact, that’s when you realized that people are now seen walking by you, a few of them giving you a look like you’re out of your mind just standing there, looking like a clueless idiot. You muttered an apology as you got out of their way, turning your gaze this way and that way to find the man…

He’s disappeared. Where did he go? 

You couldn’t possibly be that tired that you practically hallucinated the entire encounter. That’s just not plausible! 

Maybe you should just go back home and forget this ever happened, you sighed to yourself. It’s just another one of those days.

                                                            X -- X -- X

…

…

…

…

…

…

...

You’ve always wondered how you managed to be this lucky.

[pedros-mustache-main]

just a job

summary: working wardrobe for the new film ‘bohemian rhapsody’ is not all its cracked up to be. until it is.

word count: 2.6k+

warnings: language, ~suggestive~ themes (but who am i kidding? we’re all here for that)

a/n: i’m continuing to work on the next chapter for “even now” but this has been in my drafts for awhile, so i thought i would finish it. enjoy, loves! xoxo.

you hate your job. really, you do. despite what your younger sister believes, it’s not glamorous and it’s not well-paid. it’s simply a 9-5, clock-in & clock-out, leave-work-at-work gig to hold you over until your final semester at university ends.

at twenty-seven, you could have two degrees by now. instead you have zero—and a startlingly amount of student debt amassed thanks to your two attempts at completing a single degree. it’s been complicated, to say the very least, and you don’t like to dwell on past failures.

you consider your job a necessary evil. there’s no one to pay tuition bills except you, so when your cousin landed a position in makeup for a new film and mentioned the need for a wardrobe assistant, you applied. the work is simple, mindless even. you take measurements, offer your opinion when asked, and catalog the different costumes. you’re truly a glorified hunter-gatherer: you hunt through the rows and rows of possible options and bring back what’s needed. 

still, it’s a job, and it pays the bills. for the most part, you stomach it. there’s loads of downtime, giving you ample opportunity to study or write a term paper. your co-workers are nice enough. they live completely different lives, surrounded by the latest fashion magazines and sketchbooks full of costume ideas. your workspace—a child-sized deck in the corner of the trailer—is covered in maths books. your future in mathematics lends itself to things like tailoring and fabric measurements, but it’s not the same. there’s an obvious disconnect; you try your best to smile and fit in, anyway.

your cousin, morgan, finds you on a lonely tuesday afternoon. it’s drizzling outside, so her hair is puffy when she enters the trailer. 

“this damn weather,” she mutters. though she’s your first cousin on your mother’s side, she grew up in australia, and her accent, thick as it is, never fails to make you smile. “i swear, if gwil comes back and his wig is all frizzed out, i’m gonna pop a lid or something.”

“that bad outside?”

“humid as hell and still raining.” she sets her paper coffee cup, stained with purple lipstick around the edge, on the counter. “how’s the paper comin’?”

you glance at your work, at the empty word document on your laptop screen, and shake your head. “it’s not. i tried to start but i just...” your words drift away, incomplete but crystal clear at the same time.

“hey.” morgan crosses the narrow trailer to squeeze your shoulder. “stop doubting yourself.”

peering up through your lashes, you shrug. “i don’t know if i have what it takes to a researcher, that’s all.”

morgan scoffs. “that’s horse-shit and you know it! think about it: you like maths, for some strange reason, and you like medicine, and you want to marry those two and become the best biomedical blah-blah researcher the world has ever seen. and be smoking hot at the same time. don’t give up on yourself now, [y/n]. not when you’re so close.”

you rise from your chair and lift your arms over your head to stretch. you know she means well—hell, you’ve been through this all once before—but your fears persist. with a good-natured roll of your eyes, you close your laptop. “you’re supposed to say that. you’re family.”

“maybe, but it’s the truth.”

the trailer door bursts open, and you glance at the faded clock on the wall. post-lunch break. time for a scene change and costume switch.

your boss, richard, climbs the trailer steps, his glasses fogged over by the weather. he tosses a plastic-wrapped lunch plate on your desk before feathering your cheek with a kiss. his beard scratches your face, but you return the air-kiss, still feeling slightly ridiculous any time you imitate his standard greeting.

“sorry, lovie. you’ll have to eat later. the boys are on their way and we only have them for a few before the cameras start rolling again.” richard sheds his leather jacket and runs a hand through his rain-slick hair. “morgan, you’re taking up too much space. shoo, honey, shoo!”

“right, of course! i’ve got to go wrangle gwilym’s wig anyway.” before exiting the trailer, morgan lifts her brows in your direction. “remember what i said, okay? it really is the truth.”

shuffling to the door, richard waves his hands in a shooing motion. “yeah, yeah, we get it. you’re family and you love each other. scram—and i mean that in the nicest way possible.” once morgan disappears, he points to the back of the trailer. “i need you to find those god-awful corduroy pants. joe has to wear them today and last time i checked there was a tear up the inseam.”

you do as your told, squishing your way to the storage area. four clothes racks—one for each of the boys—take up the majority of the trailer space. aside from a bathroom the size of a postage stamp and an area for fittings, it’s a tight squeeze. that squeeze is made even tighter anytime one or more of the borhap boys makes their entrance. their personalities are distinct and their friendships are loud; it should be endearing, but it often leaves a headache grating at the back of your skull from all the noise. 

from your place jammed between joe and ben’s clothing racks, you can hear him—joe—as he makes his way to the fitting stool.

“okay, but listen to this, richard.” his voice is muffled by the mink coat your head is pressed against, but you already know the routine. he’ll start with some ridiculous anecdote then work his way to a joke or two, peppering in a smattering of questions for good measure. it’s the same nearly every day. 

joe is kind. they all are. but joe, specifically, is the most gregarious of the bunch—a bit much for your quiet tendencies. he makes you laugh on occasion, but the majority of the time, his personality is too big for the sandwich-sized trailer. you’d never tell him that, of course, so you often spend most of his fittings with a haphazard smile on your face, your mind millions of miles away.

corduroy pants retrieved, you wiggle your way to the fitting area. richard has his hands full with rami, attempting to peel a black-and-white checkered unitard off the poor man, so he gestures to joe with his foot.

“fix that inseam,” he says, his voice strained with effort.

joe has a wry smile on his face when you look at him. “look, [y/n], i normally don’t take my pants off on the first date, but i’ll make an exception for you.”

you toss the pants at his chest. an girlish blush crawls up the back of your neck, so you turn away, rooting around on your desk for your sewing kit. to further enflame your face, you cringe when you hear his jeans unzip and drop to the floor with a soft whoosh. your fingers stutter over the assortment of books, papers, and fabric materials on the table. 

what has you so nervous, you aren’t sure. joe is handsome. again, they all are. you suppose it’s the idea of having your face inches from his crotch as soon as he’s clothed. not for the first time, you wonder what you’ve gotten yourself into. a biomedical researcher would never have to deal with this.

“m’lady, i am ready.”

the plastic surrounding the sewing kit bites your palm as you hold it tight, turning to face him. “don’t be so smug. it’s not cute.”

joe frowns. he looks slightly ridiculous, like a small child, in his wig: the straight bangs, the uneven locks of hair brushing the collar of his shirt. he looks like john deacon; at least, you assume he does. you’re no expert. still, his frown coupled with the wig and the striped shirt and corduroy reminds you more of a primary school boy than rock god oozing sex appeal. it’s discombobulating. 

“you’re a hard nut to crack, [y/n].”

lowering to your knees, you nudge his legs apart with your knuckles. already, you feel a lump rise in your throat. “yeah?”

“i’m in here every day and i don’t think i’ve made you laugh once.”

“that’s not true.” you search the recesses of your mind for a memory, but can only think about how, if you move an inch to your left, your forehead will brush the fold of his pants near his most delicate parts.

(god, you need to get laid. between a flurry of dead-end jobs and university courses, you can’t remember the last time you had a good romp in the hay just to blow off some steam.)

joe doesn’t seem at all bothered by your proximity. that is, until you run the flat of your hand down the inseam of his leg. you swear you hear him hiss, but maybe it’s just your imagination. regardless, he jumps a little, and you look up with a wince.

“sorry, cold hands. i’m just looking for the tear.”

he nods, a definite flush to his cheeks.

the tear—a whopping four inches from top to bottom—is nestled near the back of joe’s left thigh. you might be able to get away with a bit of fashion tape, but richard has an eye for detail. he claims the camera can pick out every loose thread, every minor snag. 

drawing back, you pop open the sewing kit with a click. “you’ve made me laugh before,” you say. it’s a lame attempt to break the silence, but you’ve never claimed to be the best conversationalist.

“huh? oh.” he hesitates. his eyes narrow, but there’s a playful glint to his gaze. “you’re only saying that to make me feel better.”

“no, it’s the truth. there was that time with the... dinosaur story. and the other time with the baseball thing and your brother.”

he runs his pointer finger over the fingers on his opposite hand, eyes rolled toward the ceiling as he counts under his breath. “so, twice?”

you nod. “at least.” with a flourish of your needle and thread, you warn, “cold hands coming in again.”

he shifts to stand a little wider. his arms cross over his chest, straining the fabric around his biceps. “twice is good. i can live with twice. my normal goal is twenty times at minimum, but i can adjust.”

you fall silent. once you’ve located the rip, you give it a good tug, testing to see whether it will tear more before you’ve finished the job. it holds, thank goodness, so you place the needle at the base of the rip and start threading it back and forth. 

you don’t turn when richard announces, "be back, [y/n]. rami’s stuck. we need baby oil from makeup.”

at this, joe laughs. his hand slaps his opposite leg, his body heaving as he all but cackles. you jostle with the force of his amusement, and the needle stabs the exposed flesh his thigh. this time he does hiss, pulling back on instinct.

you grimace. “sorry! you moved!”

“that’s your excuse? you sure you didn’t plan to stab me?”

“why would i do that?”

“‘cause you think i’m annoying!”

“i don’t think you’re annoying—not all the time, anyway.”

“aha! so you do think i’m annoying!”

you huff. “joe, please. i’m just trying to do my job.”

perhaps it’s the weariness in your tone that drains the good-natured grin from his face. maybe it’s your confession, which you hadn’t meant to confess. whatever it is, he clears his throat and looks toward the mirrors on the wall across from him, arms snug over his chest again. you return to the tear.

the silence stretches thin with tension. you’ve wounded his pride, you know, but you aren’t sure why it’s shut him down. you’ve interacted only a handful of times, and you try to keep professional, distanced, any time you do interact with a cast member. his suddenly-cold exterior is peculiar. 

“can you turn around for me?” he does so without complaint. his ass looks good in the pants, you’ll give him that, and this vantage point gives better access to the top of the tear. a win-win, you suppose. 

“what did you mean by twenty times?” you ask. “your normal goal being twenty times?” another lame attempt at breaking the tension.

he shrugs. “it’s stupid.”

tear repaired, you stand. “no, i want to hear. please?” 

gently, you tug his arm so he faces you again. you glance over his new outfit, searching for minuscule imperfections. you can feel his eyes search your face in a similar manor, and your face grows warm under the scrutiny. 

in lieu of an proper response, he kisses you.

the sudden contact causes you to drop your sewing kit to the floor. the plastic breaks—you can hear the crunch—but you don’t care. it’s been a long time since anyone kissed you and a longer time since anyone kissed you properly. his lips are soft and skilled, slow against your own. you rest your hands on his forearms, let him kiss you until he pulls back.

your skin feels like it’s on fire, and your chest is tight with anxiety. you swallow hard, eyes darting back and forth between his.

“i don’t like it when girls i like think i’m annoying.” his voice is thick, but his words remind you of a schoolboy’s again. it’s endearing; you smile.

“i’m quiet, that’s all.”

“i’m not.”

“i know.”

“usually i can tell if a girl is interested by how many times she laughs when i talk. twenty times and over, i’ve got a solid in. you’ve never given me an in.”

“i suppose twice is a little below the mark.”

he leans forward, as if to kiss you again, and your eyes flutter shut, but his nose merely brushes yours. “go out with me... to dinner. let me make you laugh again.”

you know you should say no. if not for the sake of professionalism, for the simple sake of proving your sister wrong. she’d told you at the start that you would meet someone and it would be dreamy and romantic and totally Hollywood. you’d promised her you wouldn’t.

but joe is cute. and even though he’s loud and chaotic, there’s something about him. he’s like a magnet. despite when your head aches because he and ben are singing too loud, you’re drawn to him. there’s no use denying it.

“one date,” you whisper, holding up your finger. “i’ll give you one date to let you try.”

“how do i know if there will be a second?”

you have to laugh at his boldness. his grin widens at the sound.

stepping back, his hands dropping from your hips, he shows three fingers. “that’s three times. i think that automatically qualifies me for a second date.”

“we haven’t even gone on our first!”

“doesn’t matter.” he hops down from the dressing stool and presses a loud kiss to your cheek. “pencil it in. two dates, back to back.”

“joe—”

he pauses at the trailer door. his toothy smile flips your stomach. “i’m being annoying, i know.”

before you can laugh again, you bite your lip. “get out of here, you idiot.”

he purses his lips in an air-kiss before bouncing out the door.

you grab the broken sewing kit from the floor. straightening, glance at yourself in the mirror. 

your cheeks are flushed and your lips look freshly kissed, but you’re smiling. maybe not laughing, but smiling. joe’s the first guy who’s made you smile in awhile. he’s made the stress in your chest relax, and the constant worry at the back of your head slow.

that ought to count for something. maybe even a third date.

[dumdrop]

My Nightmares

This one made me cry while writing it. It's a lot more emotional than my previous nightmares. I apologise for the sudden time jumps. Please enjoy!

I was sleeping in my bed, and I woke up from the sound of my little brother crying like he was scared. I left my room and walked down the hallway to Austin's room. I entered his room and saw him in his bed, wide awake, and crying very sadly.

I walked over to him and sat on the left side of the bed. “Hey, buddy. Did you have another nightmare?”

He nodded with agreement, too afraid to speak. I raised my hand and placed it on top of his head. Usually, physical affection worked best to calm him down. I stroked his head smoothingly, and he grabbed my hand and squeezed it.

“What was your nightmare about?” I said. It's always better to talk about his fears and reassure him they could never happen. He was staring at his hands, nervous to talk about what scared him. His little voice broke the silence of the room.

"I was playing in the front yard with Tony. I saw something shiny in the middle of the road and ran over to it. It was a shiny button. I picked it up because it was a pretty button. It was yellow just like the buttons on Nana's sweater she used to wear."

He stopped crying but was still shaking. "Then I saw a car coming towards me and it hit me."

"Oh, that's a bad one," I said. "I've had nightmares like that before. It's pretty scary."

"You have?" He said, looking up from his hands to look at me. His face lit up, happy knowing he wasn’t alone.

"Yeah, I have those nightmares too. I had thought before what it would be like to be hit by one. And, of course, I had a nightmare about it that night."

He finally stopped shaking after I said this. I tried to think of something else to say that would reassure him. "You know... nightmares are only your mind trying to scare you. And when you have a scary thought in your head, your mind plays it out in your dreams as you sleep. But it's only your imagination so it's not real."

I gave him a side-hug and he rested his head on my shoulder. "So it's not real, right?"

He didn't look up at me but I could still see his smiling face as he said, "Not real."

Time Skip

It was suddenly morning. I was sitting in the dining room looking out the window. It was raining and very grey and cloudy. I always loved the rain. The sound of the spattering raindrops on the roof, the fountain of water falling down the glass, the faint rumble of the thunder and lightning. It makes me feel so peaceful and happy.

Austin came running into the dining room. At full speed, he crashed into me causing us both to be pushed back against the table. "Hey! Slow down next time!" I said.

"Sorry!" He said excitedly, pushing himself up and wrapping his arms around my shoulders. "I love it when it rains! I wanna go outside and play!"

"Not yet! It's still pouring!" I replied, hugging him back. "You know the rules. We don't go out yet until it's sprinkling."

He gave me a dramatic, very sarcastic, frown. "I know! But can't we just go out this time? Just once?"

He looked very desperate, as kids do when they really want something. "Not this time. I don't wanna get soaked today."

"Can we get soaked one day?"

I nodded. "Maybe one day."

He let out a loud and again dramatic sigh. "Fine!" He let go of me and left the dining room. I watched him disappear out of my view and returned my gaze back to the window.

Time Skip

It was suddenly the afternoon and the rain had stopped pouring and was now a quiet drizzle. Perfect for Austin and me. I could take pictures of the outside wearing its drenched coat of dirty puddles and water drops falling off roses.

I quickly grabbed my polaroid camera and jacket and left my room. Austin was already waiting by the door with his jacket on and Tony, his cat doll that was a Ragdoll!

"Come on, Taylor! What's taking you so long?"

"Hang on, Austin, we have to put our rain boots on before we go out." I grabbed our boots that were sitting by the door. I sat his blue boots by his side and started to put my red ones on.

"But I hate rain boots! They aren't as comfortable as my normal boots!" I finished putting mine on as he sat down and started removing his "normal" boots.

I grabbed his left boot and started putting it on his foot. "And they're too long!" He continued. "And I don't like the way they squeak as I walk!"

I finished putting on his boots for him and stood up as he continued. "They are such an Unconvenience."

I grabbed his tiny hands and pulled him to his feet. "Inconvenience."

He grabbed the doorknob, gave it a quick twist, and opened the door. He immediately ran out of the house and left me in the dust. I heard him yell something like whatever! as he ran into the woods.

I quickly moved my camera to my eyes, looking through the camera's viewfinder, and aimed it perfectly at his silhouette approaching the woods. I pushed the button and Flash! The picture was taken. The familiar sound of the photo exiting the camera and into my hands.

"Wait up!" I shouted and ran after him.

I put the instant photo into my jacket's pocket as I was sprinting. I found him by an old oak tree, looking up at its majestic tallness. It was covered in moss and vines. The living things growing around the dead body of bark and branches, I thought.

"Awesome!" Austin said. He touched the moss with his index finger. "And gross!" He sat on the hump of one it's massive roots. "Here. Take a picture!"

My little genius! He found the perfect spot to take a picture! He made a cute pose as I raised my camera. Click! The photo left the camera, into my hands, and into my pocket.

He, again, took off running, ducking under the hanging branches of the old oak tree, avoiding the drizzled leaves, and ran deeper into the forest. I lost sight of him through the fog. I started to chase after him, tapping on the fallen sticks, breaking them in half, the snapping sound echoing through the thickets.

"Aussie!" I cried out.

I heard the sound of sticks breaking again, but not from me this time. Found you!

I quickened my pace towards the sound, getting smacked in the face by the wet leaves. I could only get a glimpse of those bright blue rain boots. "Aussie! Slow down! I'm gonna lose you! Brother!"

"Slowpoke!" He shouted back.

"You know I hate this game!"

"But I love it!"

"You asshole!"

I caught a glimpse of the flapping of his hoodie in between the trees and fog. He wasn't too far. I could catch him.

I was really running now. I knew I could outrun him. I followed the sounds of his steps that were running away from me. They were getting louder and louder, signaling that I was getting closer. I saw his silhouette again, fading in and out of the fog. I quickly held up my camera again and took a shot blindly. Click! The flash lighting up the world in front of me.

I finally caught up to him. I grabbed his shoulder and forced him to slow down. We both managed to stop and I clasped his arms and pulled them to me, trying to stop him from leaving me again.

"You know... I hate it when you do that." I said, gasping through my words.

"I know. I wanted to see if I could outrun you yet." He replied with a cheeky grin.

I had seen a white figure in my peripheral vision. I looked over to it and saw the picture I just took in my hand. Oh right! The picture.

I let go of my grip on his arms and he walked over to another tree that was just about ten feet away. I looked at the picture I took to see if it was good enough to keep. But, something was wrong. I realized something was missing in the picture. Austin.

The picture was the fog and the trees I had seen, but where Austin was standing before, he wasn't. That's odd. I clearly remember him there. I did take the picture while running… maybe I didn't aim it right on him?

I tucked the photo into my pocket along with the two others I took. I looked over to my brother, who was standing by the tree and drawing swirls in the moist dirt with a stick. I lifted my camera again, a motion I was most familiar with, and looked through the viewfinder like a peephole in an apartment door. Nothing looked different. My finger found the button and pushed it. I had seen the flash go off, but there was something I didn't see. My brother.

He had disappeared. His body was completely gone in the light of the flash. Just briefly, though. But I had seen it.

I slowly lowered the camera down from my face. Complete terror flowing through my body and running through my veins. Then came confusion and then denial. Why did he just disappear? Like he's not really there?

I took the picture from my polaroid and stared at it. No Aussie.

I moved my shaking hand into my pocket and pulled out the three pictures of today. I had first seen the picture of just the fog and trees. Next, the old oak tree. No Austin. Last, the silhouette just outside our house. Just the dark woods. No Austin.

I couldn't believe it. What the hell? What does this mean?

It couldn't be true. He's right there!

Better be sure.

"Austin. Look over at me." I demanded, trying to keep my cool.

"Okay." He answered while shrugging his shoulders. I walked over and stood directly across from me. I was going to make sure this time! I looked through the viewfinder and aimed it on Austin, perfectly in the frame. It clicked again and there went the flash.

Just as the flash went, Aussie had teleported right in front of me when he was just ten feet away.

I screamed and jumped back, falling into the mud. He was looking at me with great concern. "What's wrong, Taylor?"

All I did was gasp and wail. So afraid.

I took off running. I couldn't stand the thought of my little brother being a ghost, not being real anymore. He is still alive. This is all a sick nightmare I'm having.

I could hear his sweet and tiny voice crying out for me. "Taylor! Wait up! Where are you going?"

I tried with all of my might to keep running. Don't turn around. Keep running. It's not true!

I was out of the woods and came upon the street. I no longer heard his voice. I had to get away. I knew where I had to go. I knew who I needed to see. I was running to his house without thinking. Daniel.

I ran to my best friend's house. I came to his front door and loudly pounded it. He quickly opened the door and saw me, looking concerned and confused.

"Taylor? What's wrong? What happened?" He said.

"I- I- I- I don't know. I- I'm-" I stuttered, unable to speak.

He grabbed my shaking hands and held them tight. "It's okay, Tbug. You're okay."

I realized I was crying. I felt a tear fall down my cheek.

Danny released my right hand, still holding my left, and raised it to my cheek, brushing away my tear with his thumb. He released my left hand and pulled me into a tight hug. I collapsed into him, releasing all of the tension I was holding. He held me tenderly, whispering soothingly into my ear, one of his curls tickling my nose. I finally felt my fear calming down, my shaking slowing, and my tears falling against his shoulders, soaking the fabric of his shirt.

I eventually heard the sirens. I had seen the reflection of blue and red lights in the window. I let go of Danny and he released his grasp on me. I turned to the flashing lights and the sounds of the sirens. They were near my house, down the street from my friend's house.

I started to freak out again. My body resumed shaking. The blood was sucked out of my face as if a vampire had bitten me. I took small steps off of his front porch and back on the street. My steps quickened as I stared at the police cars and paramedics truck. My steps got faster until I wasn't on my feet anymore.

Daniel had run after me and tackled me to the ground. He pushed his weight against me so I couldn't get up. "No, Danny! Stop! I must see it!"

I knew what I would see. My dead brother on the street, his small body crushed by a car. Danny must have caught on to the situation and prevented me from seeing my living nightmare.

"No! Aussie! Danny let me go!" I cried, attempting to push him off me but failing. "Austin!"

I was repeatedly calling my brother's name, trying desperately to get an answer.

"No Taylor! You don't want to see it!" Danny said, breathing heavily, his grip loosening. He was struggling to keep me in place.

I kicked my feet and managed to slide out of his grasp. I sat up on my butt and tried to stand up but Danny had grabbed my legs and pulled me to him, my backside sliding against the ground. Now face-to-face, he hugged me again, not letting go. Even through my hits and screams, he didn't let go. I looked into his eyes. He looked so sad. I couldn't fight him anymore. I gave up.

I gave in to the truth. The truth that my little brother was gone and I couldn't do anything about it. I never felt such sadness in my life. I couldn't feel anything else. I couldn't move. I couldn't do anything.

I stared into my best friend's sorrowful eyes and started to cry deeply. Danny's eyes were filling up with tears. He cried along with my wails of sorrow. He buried his face into my shoulder and I wrapped my arms around his neck. Even though his body was on top of mine, I couldn't feel it. I didn't feel the familiar warmth of him. I just cried and cried.

“We didn’t get the chance to get soaked…” I said mindlessly. “I told him 'maybe one day.'”

I could hear the words but I couldn't feel them leave my mouth. “It wasn’t real… I told him it wasn’t real. I told him that! I told him…”

It’s not real. It’s not real. It’s not real! It's not real! It's not real! IT'S NOT REAL! NOT REAL NOT REAL NITREALNOTREALNOTREALNOTREALNOT-

And that's when I woke up.

Previous Nightmare

[itsjuliak5]

My thoughts on the final episodes of season 3 of The Rain on Netflix

These are literally just a stream line of all my thoughts as I watching. The review I did for episodes 1, 2, and 3 can be found here.

~ Spoilers Below for episodes 4, 5, and 6 ~

Episode 4

- Kira backstory! Kira backstory!

- Omg what building is this? Where are they? This reminds me of that Stranger Things spinoff episode with Kali and that whole misfit group.

- Martin’s tripping balls.

- Rasmus is getting annoying again and is about to be more annoying than ever I can feel it.

- Rasmus just killed a guy, ok. Sarah take him out we’re rooting for you sweetie.

- “Why don’t they like me?” You just killed someone in front of them.

- Martin does what he wants Mr. Scientist.

- I love the post apocalyptic city setting.

- It’s laundry day!

- If Kira dies I will riot.

- I love the abstract bunny graffiti.

- SHHHH DANIEL! --- See this is what happens, silly bitch.

- Rasmus is straight up a cult leader.

- Kira backstory! Kira backstory!

- Ok, honestly that sounds like a good and fair deal for everyone.

- Oh this bitch is lying about the cola. -- KNEW IT

- So, the more Rasmus uses his power, the more drained he gets? Got it. Or unless it’s reverse somehow?

- Oh no, they won’t kill Fie right? She’s pregnant, they wouldn’t kill her, right?

- Thank you Jean!

- I FUCKING HATE RASMUS! I HATE HIM, I HATE HIM, I HATE HIM!!!!!!!

- I love Patrick and Fie together. I love how much Patrick has grown since Season 1.

- Oh they’re all dead. I love that they stopped at the door before going all the way in.

- AH! Omg that eye makeup effect is amazing! And that guy got some of the juice, yay!

- I love Kira!

- Preach Kira! Simone I love you, but you need to listen to Kira.

- FUCK Daniel. Fucking why? I hate him, he’s so annoying and Martin saw it and is gonna freak out and kill Dan. Daniel is such an annoying and unnecessary character, like the actor is already bad at acting.

Overall:  9.4

Episode 5

- The squeal I let out when Simone and Martin were reunited omg..

- Sarah and Fie better team up or Patrick recruits Sarah to save Fie.

- Love the camera work and directing while Rasmus is stumbling through the halls sick.

- “He’s your little brother again.” No he fucking isn’t.

- Martin...no...Martin and Simone used to be IT. This stupid virus is ruining them.

- Oh...If Rasmus dies do they all die?

- I love the foggy setting.

- One little vial? Yeah, well Fie could probably replicate it in the lab so calm down.

- “How self centered are you?” She’s literally not? She’s just trying to be hopeful and optimistic.

- Rasmus sort of looks like my nephew and it freaks me out.

- Fie just tell Sarah that Rasmus threatened to kill your baby.

- Okay Jean...you’re growing on me.

- Daniel is such a bad actor omg.....

- Fie....noooo! Don’t be alone with Rasmus please be careful!

- I loved the long pause after Rasmus’ freak out on Fie before he asks for help. That was such a great way to build tension and add emotion.

- “We’re friends now.” Damn I like Jean now. I feel bad for hating him for so long.

- “Why is it our problem that Rasmus might die all of the sudden?” - THANK YOU PATRICK!

- THE “I LOVE YOU’S!!!!!” AHHHHHHHH 💖💖

- Dan’s in love? I wouldn’t have known, ‘cause his acting sucks and he can’t portray it himself.

- “You’d have to be a pretty big jerk.” How about a literal virus?

- If Rasmus dies I won’t be mad.

- Yes Sarah, I love you bitch! I ain’t never gonna stop loving you biiiiitch! Also I love the song they’re playing right now.

- I’m ready for this dramatic ass reveal with Martin. Hell yeah with all the fog around it, too? --- Well I didn’t get one right now but Simone knows something’s up.

- It’s not a routine check-up oh no. FUCK YOU RASMUS FUCK YOU!!!!!

- I HATE RASMUS!!! PATRICK SAVE THEM ALL!! YOU’RE OUR ONLY HOPE!

- Omg my heart is in my throat.

- NO SIMONE AND MARTIN NOOO!! RUN SIMONE!!!

- MAKE IT STOP!! MAKE IT STOP NO!! MAKE IT STOOOOOP!!

- Martin isn’t dead, nice try.

- FUCK OFF DANIEL, YOUR SHITTY ACTING IS RUINING THE MOMENT!

- OMG I HATE IT HERE!!! MARTIN ISN’T DEAD LIFE ISN’T REAL. Martin isn’t dead nice try, he’s not dead, I refuse.

- Patrick thank you for saving us all.

Overall:  RIP Me. (9.6)

Episode 6

- Fuck me, they made a carrier. I wanna die.

- If Dan even thinks about coming in and cuddling with Simone I will riot.

- Also I absolutely love the intro music.

- Not the flashbacks, stoooop. They’re trying to kill me, just kill me please.

- Kira I fucking love you and Simone baby it’s gonna be okay.

- OMG the actress playing Simone is singing this song. She’s a good singer and this is a good song.

- Luna you’re a sweetie.

- When did Sarah get let out of the room and I would’ve liked to have seen Fie and Patrick escape.

- OMG we’re gonna have a baby!

- 🎵Flower gleam and glow!!🎵

- Pat and Fie?! YAYYYYY!! Oh no, now they’re gonna know Martin’s dead, damn.

- Omg they put Simone’s tracker on his grave.

- Fie is gonna go into labor while Rasmus arrives A Quiet Place style.

- Me to, Jean. I like him now. I like the parents now, too, although the mom was being weird about the labor thing.

- Kira better not die.

- Aw Pat and Fie are so cute! --- Pat’s gonna die isn’t he?

- Well the plan with Pat was cool for a little bit.

- I HATE RASMUS!! Sarah I love you save Fie. I fucking love Sarah, that’s my girl and I love Fie, too.

- I hope Daniel dies. They better not set some shit up with him and Simone.

- My heart is pounding omg.

-  Simone is gonna trigger the flower, maybe??

- I love the little girl with the bow, you get ‘em queen.

- Yeah, a flower. Flower gleam and glow my dude.

- Look I hate Rasmus, but he’s a fantastic villain and the actor is acting the hell out of it.

- The effects are really cool.

- 🎵Flower gleam and what the fuck?🎵

- I don’t care that Rasmus died, but Sarah deserved better.

- The flowers wrapping around their bodies is cool.

- How is Fie able to walk after giving birth?

- Omg them all traveling as one giant family, I love it.

Overall:  8.8

[memfys23]

The Sound

“C’mon, girl. Smell the nice fishy? Hmm? Nice and fresh.”

There’s a small splash as the fish hit the water, but the sea lions took no notice of it and continued to stare impassively at Sam where he stood on the ship deck. Just after sunrise they had been swimming in long arcs parallel to the shore of the nearby island, but as the First Green had drifted in closer, more and more of them had shortened their sweeps until there was an audience of several floating off starboard, watching with eerie quiet.

The fish rocked gently black and forth as it slowly sank and the sleek animals made no move to follow it.

Dean whistled. “That is some damn impressive training. Also…” He gave a quick whack to the back of his brother’s head. “The fuck you think you’re gonna keep one of those things?”

“Ow!” Sam pushed the hair out of his face on the way to rubbing the back of his head. “I wasn’t trying to catch one. I just thought I’d make friends.”

“Sure, Sammy.”

“Seriously, Dean. We live in a two bedroom walk-up. Even if we moved, renting a place with a pool would seriously stretch our budget… at least at my old job’s wages…”

“No, Sammy”

“And my car’s too small to transport for vet visits. I’d have to stick it in the backseat of – “

“Don’t even think of finishing that sentence.”

Sam grinned at the finger pointed in his face.

“You’re too easy.”

Dean huffed and returned to counting the alcohol swabs in the first aid kit while Sam continued watching the sea lions watch him.

Satisfied that the kit was still fully stocked, Dean returned it to the case on the wall and joined Sam at the railing just in time for a series of low whistles to come across the water. The sea lions attention was grabbed and they began ducking beneath the water and swimming away towards the island in the distance.

From here in the pall of the northwest, the settlement that they knew was there was a smudge on the shoreline; the small windmill floating off shore was lost in the gray.

Dean raised his binoculars and watched as the sea lions were greeted by other figures in the crashing surf. The sea lions nosed at hands and showed a playfulness that had absolutely been absent the rest of the day.

“I wish we could talk to them,” Sam said, lowering his own binoculars to push the hair out of his eyes. “Think about what we could learn about each other if we could just talk.”

“Yeah. Maybe if I throw you overboard one of them will mistake you with your girly hair as a damsel in need of rescue and sweep you back to their shack for a little ‘cultural exchange’.”

Sam punched him in the arm, hard and then went back to his binoculars.

Meeting a selkie would definitely be a highlight to this trip. In addition to all the safety discussions and the legal walk throughs (how close were they allowed to get to the actual oil pipeline, what could they take pictures of, etc.), Dean and the rest of the Green Peace expedition had been forced to sit through a seminar on interacting with any selkie that they encountered on this trip. It boiled down to don’t.

To call the selkie standoffish was an understatement. For most of history the relations between human and Selkie had been cold at best and hostile at worst. Selkie who intruded to much into human fishing waters were often chased off their settlements, forced to rocky islands that Humans found utterly inhospitable. History was also littered with the tales of ships run aground, or worse sunk with all hands after straying too close to Selkie waters.

Of course history was more complicated. There were good stories too. Drowned sailors thought lost forever returned to their home shores, lost selkie saved from circling sharks and given a lift to the nearest rookery. Careful exchanges of technology and culture over the centuries. A handful of documented cases of friendship and, even rarer, romance. Hell, the jacket Dean’s father had left him was Selkie made, passed on to John from who knows where. Decades old as it was, it still kept the rain out like nothing else.

It would be pretty cool to meet selkie. Would definitely be worth several free beers over the course of his life. But it was better not to get their hopes up. The First Green was here to observe the local oil pipeline and its impacts on the non-human and non-selkie ecology. Cultural exchange was not in their mission statement and the local selkie population had made no overtures during their week here so far. They had kept distant from the ship and the divers, shifting their fishing patterns and their herds to the other side of their island presumably to wait out the expedition.

Dean and Sam watched the selkie and their sea lions splashing through the surf a little while longer and moved on when the expedition’s volunteer photographer wandered over. He left Sam to point out different parts of the landscape and the selkie rookery to Sarah while she peered through her camera.

*             *             *

With the exception of the mornings, the weather in Lopez Bay had been beautiful. The sun had sparkled over the deep green waters and warm breezes had moved the air just enough to keep it from being stifling without providing any chill.

Even the selkie had seemed to loosen up. Early in the third week the crew had woken up one morning to find the sea cows back in their original cove and while the raft of sea lions continued to watch the ship warily and ignore the occasional fish a crewperson tried to tempt them with, they were now joined by a gaggle of motley pelted seals who responded with much less stoicism. The seals eagerly leapt, dove, an spun and they received a rain of fish as their reward.

It had been far more comfortable than Dean had been led to believe the Pacific Northwest to be.

Today was a whole other kettle of fish. Overnight it seemed the region had finally decided to show her true colors. Rain slapped against the windows and the floor of the mess was slick with water tracked in every time someone came from outside. Rain slickers dripped water down the walls where they were hung and every glass surface fogged with the collected breaths of the crew and the steam rising from their mugs.

Sam blew on his hot chocolate and took a small sip before putting it down again.

“You want me to get you some marshmallows to go with that?” Dean asked as he slid on to the bench.

“You have marshmallows?”

Dean shook his head and cradled his own mug close to his frozen nose.

“Seriously, Dean. If you’re hoarding marshmallows, share the goddamn wealth.”

Dean sipped his coffee. Too hot, but he wasn’t gonna be a goddamn girl about it like Sam. “Shaddup. How are your talks going with the fishing company? Are they still threatening to sue our asses to hell and back?”

“They won’t give any ground, but we’re not actively interfering with any of their transports and they can’t object to any of the observations we’re taking. No activities they undertake in public waters can be considered proprietary so we’re fully within our rights to take pictures and videos and the scientists have their own permits for testing and observing in the wildlife reserve so they can’t keep our people out of the water and away from their equipment as long as we’re not actually interfering with any of it.”

“They are damn lucky you were able to get such a good stretch of time off between your old firm and the new one.”

“I’m not the only one who’s managed to impress on this trip. I was talking with Doctor Karam earlier. His wife is a physician with Doctors Without Borders and they’re apparently looking for supply logisticians. Experienced people who understand medical needs and can get shit done. I think Doctor Karam thinks you’d be a great fit. It would be a great step up in your career.”

“C’mon, Sammy. I’ve had enough of parachuting into crappy places all over the world. I’m ready to stay put for a while. Not to mention we’re gonna be in the same place at the same time for the first time in a long time. You and me raising hell and looking fabulous doing it. Just like old times.”

Sam hesitated, dropped his eyes to his mug and Dean’s heart dropped to his stomach.

“About that, Dean.” Sam took a deep breath. “The firm has an opening in the DC office. It’s better pay and it would open up some really cool opportunities for me.”

“So that’s why you’re so eager to get rid of me.” He lifted his leg and pivoted off the bench. “I need some fresh air.”

“Dean, c’mon, man, that’s not fair,” he heard Sam start but Dean was already walking away. He drained the last of the coffee in his cup, dropped it in the bin strapped to the compost bin (of course these freaking hippies had a compost bin) and wrenched open the mess door. He made his way to the end of the hall and then out under the awning. Small blessing there wasn’t a lot of wind.

He pulled a cigarette out of the pack in his pocket and leaned against the bulkhead while he held the tip to his zippo flame. He’d promised Sam and Uncle Bobby he’d quit, but quitting was a process and the other coping option of a beer would mean heading back into the galley and Sam’s disapproval.

Goddamn genius brothers. Kid couldn’t leave well enough alone. Couldn’t be happy with what he had which was already lightyears more than any Winchester had ever had before. Couldn’t resist one more rung on the ladder. The chance to get away from Dean again probably made the opportunity all the sweeter. He’d probably been spending the last few weeks looking for any bone he could throw to Dean to make it seem like it wasn’t all just about avoiding his broken loser older brother.

The glow of the cigarette was a mocking reminder of the cold outside. Dean took a long drag, held the smoke in his lungs, and then let it out in a long slow stream. He scrubbed his hand over his face and tried not to feel the dual cold of the weather and the steel bulkhead behind him leaching through his clothes. He lifted the cigarette to his mouth again and repeated the earlier drag. He could at least be grateful there wasn’t any wind.

Dean continued to smoke, listening to the raindrops clatter off the awning when he something stole his attention. He stilled, suddenly hyper aware, not sure what had interrupted his pity party when deep jingle and clank sounded over a gap in the rain. The clank came again from around the corner followed by a thud, a grunt, and then a splash. Dean pushed away from the wall bulkhead behind him and headed around the corner to the sound. As he made his way there was another clank and then a thud again, followed by another.

Dean stopped at the top of the stairs leading down to the stern deck, feeling the cigarette drop from his suddenly gaping mouth.

There, in the pouring rain, slumped on the deck, a smaller form clasped in his arms, blue eyes boring into Dean’s soul, was a selkie.

[dammitadolfnomorecake]

Once Bitten, Twice Stupid prt.3

Balmeria Roadhouse was as it always was at stupid o’clock in the morning. Two road trains parked up in the back parking space. Another sitting at the diesel pumps, the driver sitting inside the roadhouse taking a much needed break. Pulling up at the bowser, Lance heard the click of the pump release, the roadhouse on the older side where a pin needed to be entered instore before you could use the bowser. Shay was definitely on, her brother Rax also worked there, but he’d seemed to take a real dislike to their group, making one of them go in and ask to use the pumps instead of being a normal civil person. Yeah, he fell into the people that thoroughly annoyed Lance, but Shay... Shay lit up the room. Her smile was bright, hair always dyed shades of blue, huge silver hoop earrings that surely had to hurt her ears, then topped off with an ensemble that threw back to the golden years of “emo”. When she joked about it, a little bit of him died on the inside. It was hard being 44 when his friends were young enough to be his kids.

Pidge climbed out after Hunk, as Lance started fuelling up. The rain was coming again, he could smell it on the air. Maybe making a run for snacks hadn’t been the brightest idea mid-storm, but you never knew what would happen. He didn’t want to pressure Hunk, not after the tour from hell, but seeing Shay might just be thing his friend needed to perk him back up. Leaning back against his car, he closed his eyes and let himself just be. He loved this life. Out of all his “lives” as Lance, this was the most peace he’d ever found... as a near on hermit.

Hearing the slow roll of tires over wet gravel, Lance paid it no mind. The pump handle clicking to indicate the tank was full. Shaking the last few drops out the nozzle, he set the handle back in the cradle with a sigh. It should be illegal that filling a tank cost $90. He could still remember when it was $1 a litre. Back in the good old days and all that. Heck, when he’d been 20 it’d only been 65cents a litre. His precious girl was killing his bank account... but he’d never say that out loud, at least not with Pidge in earshot. And not with his Mami in earshot either. She mistakingly thought he kept his girl around out of some sense of misplaced guilt over his condition, not because no other car made him feel quite the way driving his bronco did. Giving Shay a wave on the security camera, Lance double checked his wallet in his back pocket before shoving his hands in his jacket, then making himself jog over to the roadhouse door as if he was scared of getting wet. As he jogged he noticed that the people who’d pulled up were one of those “people” who park way too close to the front door with the bonnet hanging over the edge, making the walk way smaller than it was supposed to be. From the look of it there were two of them in the black sedan, their car practically screaming for attention. Good luck with that, Lance was more interested in the road train by the diesel than two rich kids taking their car for a joy ride.

Letting himself into the warmth of the road house, Lance headed straight for the drinks at back. Grabbing two bottles of coke, he also snagged a bottle of orange juice for the morning. Carrying the drinks up to Shay, Hunk was spluttering over Shay’s flirting. Neither of them were aggressive enough to make that first move, Shay’s bubbly personality came from being in customer service, the “real” Shay was a shy blushing mess especially in the presence of Hunk

“Hiya, Lance. How’s it going?”

“Any day my glasses decide not to fog up is a win. How’s the night been?”

“Slooow. Seriously slow. Must be the weather, all the smart people are staying home”

Lance laughed as he nodded

“Yeah, it’s the night for it, alright. Hey, we were thinking of having dinner at mine on Saturday night, can you swing it?”

Shay shook her head, her gaze flicking to Hunk, then back to him

“I’m working both nights this weekend”

“It doesn’t have to be Saturday. Friday works too. Or Monday. Actually, any night works. One of the perks that comes with working from home”

“I can do Friday... are you sure you don’t mind?”

Now Shay was sounding like Hunk. They’d be the sweetest couple

“I wouldn’t have asked if I wasn’t. It won’t be anything too fancy, maybe dinner than vegging out in front of the TV. I mean, please don’t feel pressured at all to come, I won’t be offended. I was just thinking how nice it’d be to actually hang out outside of this place”

Shay nodded quickly

“That sounds fun. I’ll finally be able to meet Blue”

With her blue hair, Shay had thought Lance was talking about her whenever he mentioned “Blue” to Pidge and, or, Hunk. His cooing over his precious princess making her uncomfortable. Shay remained in the dark until Pidge started teasing him mercilessly over Lance buying his baby girl a bigger and better cat tree to celebrate her first birthday

“She’s a bit of a snob, just so you know. Oh, you totally don’t have to bring anything, but I know what parents are like, so if you drink bring a bottle of that and we’ll pretend it’s for me”

Shay laughed. Lance felt as if the gift giving had slowly slipped from society, a bit like dinner parties

“Sometimes you sound like my dad”

Pidge slammed her palms down on the counter, excited to have someone agree

“I know, right?! You should have heard him earlier, I could have died of shame when he was talking about being “totally radical!”

“Much retro, so lame”

Huffing are the pair, Lance grabbed a pack of gum to toss in with everything else

“Remind me why I associate with all of you?”

“For the laughs. Oh, we better move, they’re coming in”

Spying on the two guys from the flashy car, the group moved aside as the door chimed. Shay swapping tills so she wouldn’t have to start ringing up his purchases from scratch

“You guys got everything you want?”

Pidge nodded happily

“Shay’s rung up my two slushies. I decided I needed one of each instead of two raspberry”

“I really should have only let you get one. You’ll be awake all night from all that sugar”

“Jeez, thanks, dad...”

Pidge made the telephone gesture with her hand, raising it to her ear. She played along with her fake fall, humming and nodding a few times before holding her hand out towards him

“The 1970’s called, they want their idiot back”

Swatting at Pidge’s hand, Lance felt a bump against his back. No apology was forth coming as Shay served the two strangers, the taller answering Shay’s polite attempts at small talk. At least one of them wasn’t a total douche.

When the pair left, the group moved back over. Shay finishing off scanning the last few items

“That’s $143.95 all up. Pidge said you were having a movie marathon when you got home?”

Fishing his wallet out, Lance pulled out his credit card, handing over as he shook his head

“She might be, but I’d hardly call it a movie marathon when she’s watching over what she taped tonight. Hunk and I are about ready to call it night”

“That sounds like a good plan. The weather’s supposed to turn bad again”

Entering his pin, Lance waited for “approved” to show on the reader, before taking his card back and sliding it away

“I heard that too. That’s why I’ve got to get these two home. If you write your number on the receipt, I’ll add you and chuck a text to confirm. You know where my house is, don’t you?”

Shay giggled, printing off the receipt like Lance has suggested

“Seeing it’s the only house on the road, I don’t think I can go wrong”

When the door chimed again, Lance turned out of habit. He hadn’t seen the diesel drier leave yet, so had thought maybe the man was waiting for someone. Walking back in, the taller of two strangers was scratching the back of his head. Greeeeat. The guy wanted a favour. He could tell by the way he was forcing himself to appear casual

“Hey, me again. My brother and I just tried our car but it doesn’t seem to be turning over. You don’t happen to know anyone around here that can help us out?”

That was what google was for. A quick google search would tell the man the towing service was shut for the night, unless he wanted to call someone in Platt.

Shay took the question in her stride, being a roadhouse she’d probably dealt with this kind of thing before

“That depends. If you need to reach Platt tonight, then you’ll want to call a Platt number for a tow. If you can wait until tomorrow, my friend Hunk here is the son of the town’s mechanic”

“We were actually hoping to stay a few days in town, you know, check out the old museum and that. My little brother’s really into photography. We’ve got a hotel room back in Platt, so I guess I need the number for that towing service”

The stranger scratched the back of his head again. Lance knew he was staring, but it was kind of hard not to when the man had a massive scar across the bridge of his nose

“I’ll give them a call, but they might not want to come out with the storm rolling in”

“Yeah, my brother was taking photos of the sky tonight, that’s how we ended up here in the middle of the night. I’d really appreciate it if you could”

“No worries, you’d be surprised how often it happens. Do you and your brother want to sit inside and wait?”

“No, thanks for the offer, but he’s not exactly a people person. I’m Shiro, by the way”

“I’m Shay. Welcome to Garrison”

“Thanks. I’ll just browse while you make that call. Thanks for this and for calling”

“It’s fine. They love me there because I send them so much business. Go ahead and take a look around”

There was no way that Lance was leaving Shay with a creeper. Hot or not, he didn’t know the man. An ordinary person wouldn’t be running around with a scar like that, his mind unhelpfully pointing out it could have been the result of a car crash or some kind of accident where he’d smacked his face hard against a pile or a corner. Whatever it’d been, Shiro had done a really good job of it. He carried himself with an air that Lance couldn’t quite put his finger on. Like he was hiding something, but exposing himself all at the same time. Shaking himself out of those thoughts, he settled on the fact that though he’d never see the man again after this, he’d be unfortunately stuck remembering him and always wondering about that damn scar.

Shay was brisk on the phone, she laughed at lot, Hunk practically melting in pining over the sound. Two quick phone calls later, Shay hung up her phone, swapping back to her customer service face

“Shiro, I’ve got some good news and some bad news”

Replacing the magazine he’d been flicking through, the handsome stranger wandered his way back to the counter. Shiro laughed nervously, something making Lance’s skin prickle

“I’m not sure I like the idea of bad news”

“Well, there’s been an accident in Platt, the storm knocked a set of lights, so they won’t be able to send someone until tomorrow. The good news is that Hunk’s dad runs the local autoshop, he can take a look first thing tomorrow morning. The bad news is you’re either stuck waiting the next 12 hours in here or we can try getting you a room in town... you could probably call a cab out from Platt, but that’s going to cost about as much as getting a room”

Shiro sighed. Lance didn’t blame him. Being stuck sucked arse

“Don’t worry, man. My dad will sort you out tomorrow”

Hunk tried to comfort the stranger, Shiro looking at him properly for the first time

“Uh, thanks for that. I’m Shiro...”

Pidge stepped forward

“I’m Pidge, that’s Hunk and this loser is Lance. We can give you a ride back in town if you need”

Lance stepped on Pidge’s foot. He wasn’t a damn taxi service, for all he knew this guy and his “brother” could be serial killers

“Really? That would be fantastic. You three are locals right, you wouldn’t happen to know of any good places to stay?”

“Sure do. We know everything about Garrison. Hey, why don’t you crash at Lance’s tonight, then he can give you a lift in tomorrow when he drops us off?”

Lance ground his foot down. He didn’t want two strangers in his house. It was his house. Access was limited to people he actually knew and liked... a grand total of five including Shay

“What? They’re stuck. It’s the nice thing to do”

Damn Pidge and her “niceness”. Shiro scratched the back of his head again

“I don’t want to put you out...”

“Nonsense. He’s got enough rooms. And it’s only for the night. What kind of people would we be if we left you stuck?”

“At least let me pay...”

“Already taken care of. The only thing is you’ll have to ride in the back of the rust bucket out there. This one refuses to get a new car”

Lance huffed

“There’s nothing wrong with my car. She’s got four wheels and starts”

“When she wants to. Go let your brother know what’s going on, while we finish up here”

“I will. Thank you so much for this. You three really saved our butts tonight. So, the bronco, right?”

“Yep, that’s the one”

“I guess we’ll get settled then... Are you sure it’s no trouble?”

“It’s fine, go on, we’ll be out shortly”

When Shiro left, Lance rounded Pidge. Tempted to keep his foot on hers, but scared he’d apply too much pressure and accidentally hurt her

“What the fuck was that?”

Pidge fluttered her eyelashes

“What was what?”

“Volunteering my house? We don’t know them”

“Exactly! I saw you staring”

“Because he’s got a big arse scar across his nose...”

“And now we can find out why”

Lance rolled his eyes, trying to keep his panic internal

“And what if they’re both serial killers?”

“You’re just being stupid. It’s a guy and his brother. Oh! Maybe they’re into ghosts, everyone who comes here’s into ghosts”

Hunk groaned

“Pidge... Lance is right. We don’t know them”

“Too bad. It’s only for tonight. Consider it our good deed for the year”

Shay giggled

“I thought that was that tour of yours”

Pidge jumped up and down on the spot excitedly, grabbing Lance by the arm and shaking him

“Oh my god, that means two good deeds in one day! Karma, here we come!”

Karma could fuck off. If there was any kind of karma in the world, he wouldn’t be what he was now. He wanted his cat, his bed, and not to have two strangers in his goddamn house. Packing their shopping neatly into a bag, Shay placed two slushy cups down on the counter with a clatter as the lids slipped off

“Whoopsies. Anyway, I won’t keep you guys any longer. Lance, you’ll text me right?”

“Sure thing, Shay. Pidge, get your damn slushies so we can go”

“Do you think they want slushies? We should get them slushies. That’s the nice thing to do right?”

“If they wanted slushies, they would have got their own”

Blowing a raspberry at him, Lance knew that Shiro and his brother were getting slushies whether they liked it or not

“Shay, two more cups please!”

God, Lance was done. Grabbing the bag off the counter, he shot Shay a tired smile

“Wish me luck”

“Better you than me. Have fun”

Like that was going to happen. With a wave, Lance wandered towards the door. Behind him Hunk had been nominated to help Pidge with her slushies. What kind of idiot just opened their home up to strangers? His Mami would be so disappointed... Actually, she’d tell him it was the right thing to do, which only made him feel worse.

[post-itpenny]

The Regret

A sequel to The Challenge.

Just as ridiculous as the first time. 

Dwight’s anxiety had skyrocketed to a level he never thought possible. Two trials after his run-in with The Legion and he had hardly slept, he couldn’t focus at all in trials, at the campfire he was always looking over his shoulder as if half expecting the masked teens to be right behind him.

Dwight adjusted his glasses as he made his way through the collection of tents and fragile structures that made up the survivors camp, coming to a small lean-to at the camp’s edge. Jake, like many of the vetran survivors, had plenty of time to gather the materials needed to make a more stable shelter. They never had to worry about rain but a warm place to sleep was still a luxury, Dwight had gone through enough nights sleeping by the fire without so much as a blanket to know this. He found Jake sitting outside the lean-to salvaging what was left of a beaten-up tool kit.

“I messed up.”

“I heard… Nea told everyone.”

Dwight sighed as he ran his hands through his hair, of course she told everyone.

“What am I going to do?”

Jake didn’t answer right away, instead taking the time to clean a few spare gears he had picked up somewhere. Dwight was used to this, he and Jake were two of the few that had been here the longest and understood Jake liked to take his time in answering; just as cool and level headed as always. Dwight once questioned Claudette why people didn’t see Jake more as a leader. Her answer was short- “he’s not meant for that pressure, that’s you.”

Jake finished his work, snapping the toolbox close before looking up at Dwight. “You and I both know the Legion has the combined attention span of a walnut. Keep low and give it a few trials, I garuntee someone else will do something stupid enough to outdo you.”

Dwight relaxed a little, Jake really did have a point.

The very next trial and someone really did outdo Dwight in level of stupid.

David King was running from The Huntress, as she threw a hatchet Feng screamed “yeet!” from behind and the killer just snapped. Pivoting on the ball of her foot and charging at the survivor with a speed Feng never thought her capable of. David panicked, Feng was on her third hook and he had to do something. David dashed ahead of the Huntress just as she threw a hatchet at Feng Min-

And David caught it.

Perhaps it was his previous life as a rugby player, or the power of adrenaline…. or maybe just pure dump luck. But David caught the hatchet by it’s handle, the blade inches from his face.

For once The Huntress was silent, staring open-mouthed in shock. David was surprised as well, looking at his wide-eyed reflection in the polished blade.

Feng however recovered quickly, dashing off without a second glance. The Huntress shook her head and yanked her hatchet free of David’s hand, taking off after the other survivor. Feng Min was hooked a few minutes later, David however didn’t come to his senses until the gonging of a bell triggered the endgame collapse. He and Adam being the only two to make it out that round.

That evening David’s catch was the only thing they could talk about. Truly legendary and what would be regarded by some of the survivors as King’s finest moment. The next day David was a part of the trial against The Nurse, the strange spirit seeming to regard the survivor with… uncertainty? It was very hard to tell what the apparition was feeling considering she wore a bag over her head and all. After a few minutes she seemed to make a decision-

And mori’ed him on the spot.

None of her usual soft regret came afterwards but Steve, who had been hiding nearby, swore on his ranger med kit he heard The Nurse rasp what sounded eerily like “yeet” before teleporting off.

When Dwight heard the story it was through Nea cackling about how The Nurse yeets herself around the map much to an annoyed David’s chagrin who was still struggling to get his breath back. Claudette fussing over him saying the killer really did a number on his windpipe.

Dwight chewed his nails, this wasn’t right, and he had a bad feeling it would get worse.

Two trials later and Nea was sneaking around Lery’s, with Nancy and Adam already dead it was just her and Tapp stuck with three generators. It didn’t help Nea was for once without a flashlight

She had just started working on a generator when spine chill went off. With no heartbeat she could only assume the killer, whoever it was, was either just out of range or had concealed themselves. Nea snuck away into the shadows, rounding a corner and climbing into a nearby locker despite her better judgment.

Nea held her breath, maybe it was Michael? He normally didn’t check lockers and she could get lucky. Unless it was-

“Boo!” Ghost Face laughed as he yanked open the locker door. Nea screamed and backed away only for the killer to grab her shoulder and pull her out of the locker. There was a bright flash and Nea found herself blinking away spots as the killer held up the screen of his camera for them both to see.

It was a picture of The Ghost Face and a panicked and confused looking Nea, the killer giving her a set of bunny ears.

“Yup, that’s definitely going on the wall.” Ghost Face chuckled, “ok Punk Rock you have two seconds.”

Nea was still trying to regain her sight, “wh-what?”

“One second.”

The survivor bolted, crashing into a stray gurney as she did so.

Nea probably wouldn’t have said anything except several copies of the picture were found on the log benches around the campfire soon after. They all laughed until Tapp asked the question of how the pictures got there.

The implications put them all on edge after that.

Dwight had become a nervous wreck, chewing off what was left of his nails as he made his way to one of the largest tents in the camp.

Nancy and Zarina had become instant friends over their love of investagative journalism. Nancy had been quick to begin documenting everything she could the moment she and Steve had first stepped into The Fog. She enlisted Jane to take every survivor’s testimony while she used every trial she was in to explore the nooks and crannies of the different realms to learn what she could. When Zarrina arrived these efforts were doubled. The tent served as a home base where their findings were stored and catalogued. Dwight, having never ventured inside before, was very surprised to see a map of each trial ground on display and an even larger map of The Fog half finished on a table.  

“These aren’t the normal maps,” he observed.

Zarina looked up from her writing with a grin, “correct!” Nancy had the idea to use a couple of the generator maps- along with a lot of observation- to make a detailed map of every trial. We found the totems, exit gates, and hatch don’t actually spawn at random! The Entity seems to like following patterns and will manifest these in a few choice locations.”

“No wonder you two find totems so fast!” Dwight gasped as he looked over the nearest map of Haddonfield in amazement at the detail. “So the larger map-”

“It’s a guessing game I guess,” Nancy chimed in. “We looked at how long it takes to enter a trial, what direction we were facing at the campfire vs. direction facing at the start of a trial, stuff like that. We could be wrong though… but we could also be right.”

Dwight looked at the maps in awe, then to the scraps of paper, stitched together notebooks, and folders that sat in stacks around the tent. It was all very impressive.

“Did you need something Dwight?”

Dwight shook his head, focussing again. “Y-yeah you guys have been taking notes on the killers yeah? H-have you noticed if-”

“They have been acting off yes!” Zarina grinned, grabbing three folders and flipping them open.

Inside were drawings Jeff had done of The Nurse, Ghost Face, and Wraith along with several pages on each killer.

“So yesterday Ash and Kate got back from a match saying The Wraith just followed people around ringing his bell the whole time. He even camped Yui after hooking her and rang that stupid bell in her face until The Entity came for her. Weird right?”

“Yeah I gue-”

“Then Nurse hardly says anything yeah? I think the most anyone heard was Nea who said the killer spent a whole match whispering some name over and over. Andy- Andr… I don’t know, Nea didn’t quite catch it. But what IS important is that The Nurse saying “yeet.”

“Though it was Steve,” Nancy pointed out, “he’s kinda dum-”

“But he is our only witness and no one has said that word in Nurse’s match at least in front of her AND she understood what it meant.” Zarina pointed out. “So with Ghost Face and the picture I now have a running theory.”

“What’s your th-”

“My theory is that perhaps just as the survivors can interact with each other outside of trials so can the killer’s! The Huntress must have said what happened in the trial with David-”

“So The Nurse got revenge?” Dwight questioned. “Why would she do anything?”

Zarina frowned, “first of all it’s rude to cut people off like that Dwight. But yes it may be that. My theory is that the killers are having a game of their own. Why else would Wraith and Ghost Face act so off?”

Dwight felt the bottom of his stomach drop out, “so would The Legion-”

“Sure why not,” Zarina reasoned with a shrug of her shoulders. “They’re a bunch of teenagers. Hell it might even have been their idea for all we know.” Zarina paused, as if she suddenly remembered something. “Hey Dwight, didn’t you-”

Dwight passed out again.

[mythologyfolklore]

Ares and Athena through the years - Ch. 11

Chapter Eleven: The Trojan War, pt. 03

(A/N: The end of the Iliad with some comic relief and lots of heartbreak at the end, because that's how the Iliad works. This isn't the last chapter about the Trojan War, but the next one will be. This is just the last part of the Iliad.)

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Book Nineteen:

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The next morning saw Thetis giving her son a freshly forged armour of such splendour, that Akhilleus was the only one who could even look at it directly.

As he marched the camp up and down, the other leaders came to the assembly, even though Agamemnon, Diomedes and Odysseus were severely injured and could hardly walk.

Akhilleus announced the end of his strike, much to the delight of the Achaean army.

He and Agamemnon finally talked things out and buried their old grudges.

“Right!”, Akhilleus exclaimed, “Enough talking! Let's go into battle already!”

“Not so fast!”, Odysseus (the resident braincell-owner) objected. “Our troops are exhausted  and many of us are wounded. We need all the energy we can get. So there is one more thing we have to do first!”

“And what would that be?”, Akhilleus snarled impatiently.

“Have breakfast”, Odysseus deadpanned.

“OH COME ON!!!”

“No.”

.

Book Twenty:

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On Olympos Zeus had made his ex-wife Thémis gather all the gods (literally all of them – even the Naiades and Dryades¹). Tiredly they dragged themselves out of bed and into the assembly hall.

Poseidon was the first to speak.

“Sooooo”, he drawled, “What are you plotting now, Astrapaios²?”

Zeus was lounging on his throne like a boss.

“Oh, you know what I want, Ennosigaios³! I won't wish for Akhilleus to conquer the city just yet, but he will, if we're not careful. And this is why I hereby decree, that the prohibition is lifted! You may interfere with the battle as much as you please!”

Suddenly everyone was wide awake and those who had taken a side in the war went to ready themselves for a battle royal – uh, I mean battle divine.

Of the Olympians, Dionysos (one of the few gods who had refused to get involved at all) was the last to leave the room. He used the opportunity to question his father.

“Dad, if you don't mind …”

“Ask away!”

“Why exactly did you change your mind again?”

Zeus chuckled at his son's perceptiveness.

“For the reason I stated earlier of course. Well, that and because I want to amuse myself by sitting here in my neutrality and watching this divine spectacle.”

“… Can I sit with you?”

“Sure, my son! Bring wine, this is going to be good!”

.

The gods joined the war and wasted no time in making things more interesting … for them!

Eris was having a blast with this spectacle.

Zeus was setting the mood above with thunder and rain.

Poseidon struck the ground with his trident and the queen of earthquakes happened.

“WHAT THE FUCK???”, he heard Hades' voice shriek from below, “POSEIDON, WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING??? IF THE GROUND BREAKS OPEN AND FALLS DOWN IT WILL REVEAL THE UNDERWORLD AND BURY EVERYTHING BENEATH!!!”

Poseidon laughed sheepishly and yelled back down: “SORRY, BRO!”

Maybe I overdid it with that earthquake …

Some distance away, Apollon had convinced Aineías, that fighting Akhilleus would be a brilliant idea.

Poseidon didn't notice until Hera pat his shoulder and said to him and Athena: “Uh, we have a little problem back there” - and pointed to where Aineías and Akhilleus were about to duke it out.

“Don't worry, sister”, he replied, “We're stronger than them. If any of Troy's gods comes close to Akhilleus, that's nothing we can't take care of.”

Still, the gods of the Achaeans didn't want to engage in a bloodbath, before agreeing on a strategy.

On the battlefield, Aineías and Akhilleus ran into each other and started with a verbal duel, before lunging at each other. Poseidon quickly assessed, that the son of Thetis was outclassing the son of Aphrodite.

“Alright, here I come!”, he sighed, “Apollon won't save him, but the youngster is fated to live.”

Then he threw himself into the maddening throng and momentarily blinded Akhilleus, before he could decapitate the disarmed Trojan. Grabbing the mortal by the arms, Poseidon took to flight and carried him away to safety.

“Okay!”, he snapped at him, once they were back on the ground, “First off: Are you fucking insane?! Trying to take on Akhilleus, who is favoured by the gods and far stronger than you? He will send you to Hades, before your time is up! Secondly: as long as he is alive, you stay away from battle, you dumbass son of an even more dumbass goddess!”

With that, the Lord of the Sea left Aineías behind to wonder what the heck had just happened.

.

Akhilleus on the other hand just shrugged it off and went back to slaughtering Trojans en masse.

Apollon had warned Hektor not to go against the deranged demigod, but when the Trojan prince saw one of his brothers get killed by that very man, he forgot the warning and attacked him.

Akhilleus immediately recognised the slayer of his dear soulmate and charged with a battle cry.

But Apollon, always having the best timing, stepped in and saved the Trojan.

Again.

This is getting old.

.

Book Twenty-One:

.

The Trojans were fleeing in panic from the deranged and bloodthirsty demigod.

But Hera conjured a thick fog, making it impossible for them to see.

Those who didn't get lost in the fog where cornered and driven into the holy waters of the river Xanthos (or Skamandros, as the mortals called him). They jumped or fell into the quick waters, struggling and screaming for help. Akhilleus in his blood rush jumped after them and slaughtered the Trojans, who were already drowning, dyeing the waters red with blood.

That pissed off the river god, because no one liked having their waters defiled with gore and corpses. Politely requesting Akhilleus to stop dumping corpses into his river didn't help, so Xanthos lost his temper and promptly left his riverbed to make the demigod stop.

Only when this colossal mass of water rose before him, was Akhilleus seized by fear and he made a run for it across the field. But the river always caught up to him, because he was still just a demigod and Xanthos a full god and gods just were stronger than mortals (unless you were Herakles).

Athena and Poseidon came to his rescue, before he could die a most unheroic death by drowning. They warned him to go back to the battlefield, kill Hektor and return to the Achaean camp, then they left to mind their own business.

But the river wasn't done yet; it joined forces with another river, both hell-bent on drowning Akhilleus.

This was seen by Hera, who turned to Hephaistos. “My son, I thought you would take care of the river god? What are you waiting for? Show him your destructive flames. I will release the winds to fuel them. Do not stop, until I ask you to.”

Hephaistos, powerful fire god that he was, raised his arms and unleashed his divine fire above the river (never mind, that it was still raining). Hera released the north and south wind.

The unearthly fire storm, hotter than the surface of the sun⁴, spread across the heath, consumed the bodies of the dead and made the rivers writhe in agony from being boiled alive.

Xanthos soon begged for mercy, but Hephaistos was only following his mother's orders, so the river turned to Hera and begged her to control her son.

Now the Queen of the Skies finally showed the mercy asked of her and told her son to stop.

Hephaistos rolled his eyes, but called his fire back.

Xanthos returned to his river bed, recovered from the torment and he stuck his head out of the water to glare at the fire god. “And here I thought you were not an arsehole!”

The divine blacksmith laughed: “Oh, you're wrong! I'm less of an arsehole than the other Olympians, but I still can be a prick!”

Hera chuckled in amusement.

.

On his throne on Olympos, Zeus was having the time of his life, because now the gods were charging at each other at last.

“Ohhh, now they're getting started! This is going to be priceless! Where are the wine, cookies and my camera?”

Hebe and Dionysos brought him both and then sat with him to enjoy the show.

.

In the meantime, Athena had finally turned to Ares.

“'Sup, arsehole”, she greeted him.

“'Sup, fellow arsehole”, he retorted. Then he had his sword out. “Don't think I have forgot how you let that fucker Diomedes pierce with a spear! Now it's time for payback!”

I thought he already had- oh, never mind.

He attacked first and they duked it out for a while, before he threw his spear at the impenetrable Aigis she was wearing on her chest. Athena leapt back, grabbed a stone and hit her opponent at the back of his neck with it.

Knocked out, he collapsed.

“Hah!”, she yelled in triumph. “I'm the one who gets the payback! That's for abandoning your mother and me in favour of supporting the Trojans! Well, that and the fucking prohibition you put into our father's head. What's that with you always forgetting what everyone has realised a long time ago: that I am stronger than you and always will be!”

“Ares!”

Athena whirled around to see the goddess of love running to her lover's aid.

Aphrodite grabbed Ares' arm and began to drag him to safety.

“Are you just letting her do that?”, Hera spat at Athena.

The goddess of wisdom rolled her eyes. “Alright, I'm on it!”

Strode up to Aphrodite, who was struggling under Ares' weight and hit her on the chest, knocking her out as well. There they lay, with the bright-eyed goddess standing above them.

“This is what happens to the allies of Troy and everyone who gets in my way!”, she snarled.

Aphrodite came to herself and glared up. “You're full of shit, Athena.”

The war goddess shrugged. “Look around, Aphrodite. Everyone here is full of shit. Especially you.”

.

At the same time, Poseidon was facing Apollon.

The sea god taunted his nephew: “What is stopping you, Sunny Boy, now that the others are at each other's throats?”

Apollon sighed: “Can you please not call me 'Sunny Boy'? That's Ares' shtick. Also-”

“Whatever, Sunny Boy. Where is the fun in going home without a single scratch? Let's duke it out! But first tell me: why are you supporting the Trojans? Don't you remember how they treated us? When Zeus stripped us of our immortality for a year, we had to serve Laomedon for a pittance! I built this mighty wall around Troy, while you herded his cattle. And when the year was finally over, he denied us pay and threatened to bind us, cut our ears off and sell us off as slaves! And you're helping the Trojans, after all of this? Explain!”

But Apollon remained calm.

“Does it really matter? Let's leave the mortals to their devices. I don't want to fight you over them, uncle. You're way out of my league, it would be madness.”

But Artemis grabbed him by the shoulder, outraged. “So you're chickening out?! You just give up and let him win?! If so, then don't ever let us hear you brag, that you could take on Poseidon!”

But Apollon just arched an eyebrow. “I'm not 'chickening out'. I just know, when to quit – unlike someone I know.”

As if on cue, Hera confronted Artemis: “You little brat! If you have the spine to make me or Poseidon your enemy, you're dumber than I thought! I will show you, just how outclassed you really are!”

Then she seized the goddess of the hunt by both wrists with one hand, tore her quiver and arrows off her shoulder with the other and smacked the shit out of her with it. When Hera was done with her, Artemis was running back to Olympos crying, leaving her bow and arrows on the battlefield.

Hermes saw this and let his opponent Leto take the win. The Titanis of motherhood gratefully gathered up the weapons of her daughter from the floor and returned to Olympos to console her.

Apollon blinked after them. “What the Tartaros did just happen?”

Poseidon laughed heartily: “Just because my sister is the goddess of marriage doesn't mean she can't kick arse! Or where do you think Ares got his temper from?”

The Earthshaker looked to the sky and knew that Zeus was shaking with laughter.

.

On the battlefield Akhilleus was still massacring Trojans left and right.

The king Priamos saw this from the top of the wall and ordered for the gates to be opened, so his people could save themselves.

Apollon came onto the field through the gates and held his hand over them, while they scrambled to the sweet safety of their city. He took the shape of a Trojan Akhilleus had been about to kill and allowed to chase him across the field, away from the gates of Troy. That bought the Trojans the time they needed to escape the wrath of Thetis' son.

All of them, except for Hektor; he didn't make it in time, before the gates closed.

The greatest warrior of the Trojans was shut outside.

.

Book Twenty-Two:

.

Apollon led Akhilleus away from Troy, before finally turning around.

“Hey, arsehole! Guess who!” And dropped his disguise.

Then he proceeded to mock the raging demigod, who was out of breath after chasing him for kilometres: “While you ran after me like a moron, thinking that you stand a chance against me, the Trojans have barricaded themselves inside their city! They are out of your reach and you will never defeat me, Apollon!”

“You … you deceived me!”, Akhilleus gasped, “So is … the most lethal of the gods … the protector of Troy … otherwise I would have killed them all! But damn you! If it was in my power, I would give you payback!”

Apollon gritted his teeth: “But you can't, mortal.”

Akhilleus screamed in fury and dashed back to Troy with swift feet.

Hektor was waiting in front of the walls of Troy to challenge vengeful Akhilleus and face his imminent demise.

On top of the walls, his aged father was weeping over the cruelty of fate: that he would have to see his sons and many of his people die, his city sacked, his daughters ravaged, his grandchildren and himself murdered, his daughters-in-law sold into slavery.

But no matter how much Priamos beseeched him, Hektor didn't yield and stayed where he was, even though he was terrified. Yet as soon as he saw Akhilleus clearly, bloodthirsty and deranged like Ares himself, his flight instinct kicked in and he ran for his life. Only Apollon's assistance prevented the son of Thetis from catching up to Hektor.

.

While Akhilleus chased the slayer of Patroklos around the city walls three times in a row, the gods were watching from above.

Zeus shook his head. “I don't like seeing him being chased around his own city like that. And it's really a shame, that he should die already. He always honoured us gods beyond measure. Should I save this noble man or-”

“No!”, Athena protested at once, “His time is up, he must die! We can't randomly spare mortals, just because we favour them. Do whatever you want, but none of us will approve.”

“… Do what you must, but do it quickly.”

On Olympos, in the Room of Fate, the Scales of Fate weighed the lot of Hektor against Akhilleus.

That of Hektor sank, that of Akhilleus rose up.

.

Apollon, as the god of prophecy, sensed the shift and reluctantly left Hektor to face his doom.

Athena on the other hand joined the angry Akhilleus.

“Today the Achaeans will gain a most glorious victory! We shall slay Hektor! He is destined to die by our hands and not even Apollon's pleas to Zeus will save him now. Now hold up and catch your breath, while I persuade him to face you in battle.”

She caught up to Hektor in the shape of one of his brothers and did exactly that.

So the Trojan prince whirled around to face the son of Peleus.

They had a short dispute. Hektor entreated his opponent to agree, that the loser be returned to his people to receive a proper burial.

But Akhilleus refused: “FUCK YOUR PROPOSAL! YOU WILL PAY FOR THE DEATH OF PATROKLOS AND ALL OF MY FRIENDS WHOM YOU KILLED!!!”

“OH SHUT UP, ARSEHOLE! YOU AND YOUR COMRADES KILLED MOST OF MY FAMILY AND FRIENDS TOO! AND ONCE YOU TAKE OVER OUR CITY, YOU WILL RAVAGE IT, MASSACRE THE CIVILIANS, VIOLATE AND ENSLAVE OUR WOMEN AND KILL OUR CHILDREN!!! I AM DOING WHATEVER I CAN TO PROTECT THEM!!! YOU DON'T GET TO JUDGE ME!!!”, Hektor roared in outrage.⁵

Then they threw their spears at each other.

Hektor dodged that of Akhilleus, but his own weapon flew far off, guided by Athena's hand. When he turned to whom he had thought to be his dear brother to ask for a new spear, but found him gone.

The Trojan prince realised, that he had been tricked by Athena and that the gods had decided his doom a long time ago.

“Well, fuck this shit”, he muttered, pulled his sword to face his last battle.

Their fight was short and brutal.

At long last, Akhilleus managed to stab him in the throat.

But he had narrowly missed the windpipe and so Hektor was able to rattle a few last words.

“If you have … an ounce of honour … return my corpse … to my parents … so I can be buried.”

“No.”

“Thought as much … but know this … you're – ugh! – angering the gods … you will die … by Apollon's and Paris' arrows …”

Then the greatest defender of Troy died.

For a while Akhilleus stood silently above him.

Then he finally replied to the dead man: “I know. And I don't care.”

And proceeded to outrage his vanquished enemy's corpse by tying it to his chariot and dragging it around his city several times.

While on the walls above, his grieving parents, his sorrow-stricken wife Andromákhe and the people of Troy were weeping to the Heavens.

.

Book Twenty-Three:

.

Akhilleus held funeral games for Patroklos and, after much more mourning, finally delivered him to the pyre.

Hektor's dishonoured corpse on the other hand he left to the dogs.

The dogs that would not go near it; the presence of the goddess Aphrodite, who guarded it night and day, kept them away. She and Apollon preserved his corpse, so that neither the scorching sun, nor being hauled around by Akhilleus could damage it.

The burned remains of Patroklos were put to rest in a golden urn – one that his ghost had asked Akhilleus to put them in and mix them with his own, once the son of Thetis would die.

.

Book Twenty-Four:

.

All the while Apollon had protected Hektor's corpse from being mutilated, while Akhilleus didn't stop treating it like that of a common criminal.

Day after day he and the other gods who were supporting Troy begged Zeus to send Hermes to steal away the body. And every time Poseidon, Hera and Athena had been against it, unyielding in their old grudges.

After a week, the god of light finally had enough.

“How much longer”, he confronted the other gods, “do you want to allow Akhilleus to abuse the body of Hektor in such a foul manner?! Does none of you have a heart?! Has he ever failed to give you the best possible sacrifices?! Instead of returned his body to his people to receive the funeral he deserves, you choose being butt-hurt about the stupidity of that wuss Paris and that's why you help that sociopath Akhilleus, who doesn't have an ounce of propriety, shame or even respect in his chest! Many others are mourning their loved ones and he acts like he's the only one! As honourable as his parents are, they failed to raise a decent human being!“

Hera jumped up and pointed a finger at him: “Stop going on about Hektor, like he has ever been Akhilleus' equal! One was only a full mortal, while the other is the son of Thetis, whom I raised and married to Peleus, who we all were fond of!”

“That doesn't change the fact, that Akhilleus is a fucking arsehole!”, Apollon snapped.

“Or that he wouldn't know honour, if it spat in his face!”, Artemis agreed.

“Or that he's a whiny mother's boy”, Ares added.

Hera flushed with rage. “How dare you!”, she exclaimed, “All of you have been at the wedding of his parents! You ate, drank, danced and made music-”

“So?”, Ares said coldly, “Akhilleus is not his parents. We are not obliged to him, nor to Thetis and Peleus and definitely not to you. Hektor respected us gods and other humans more than he does.”

Hera's eyes narrowed. “That's it! I will-”

“ENOUGH!!!”, Zeus thundered and everyone fell silent.

Angrily he turned to Hera: “I've had enough of your attitude! No one here is putting Hektor and Akhilleus on the same level! And all things considered, Hektor was beloved by us. He always knew what kind of sacrifices I and all of you wished for, never failed to honour us and only gave us the best of the best. Still, stealing the body is not an option either. Bring me Thetis. She shall persuade her son to give Hektor's body up to his father.”

After Thetis had been welcomed by the gods, Zeus cut to the chase: “Let your son know, that we're angered by his behaviour. He is to return the body of Hektor to the Trojans for ransom – this is my will. He knows what happens to mortals, who do not follow it.”

Thetis nodded and returned to her son to inform him of Zeus' decree.

.

Later that evening Iris descended to the earth again, this time to tell Priamos, that Zeus was doing him one last favour: the returning of his son's body.

So Priamos packed rich gifts as ransom and went, but not before making a sacrifice of Zeus and venting his bitterness about how the cruelty of Ares had robbed and would keep robbing him of his loved ones.

As Zeus saw the elderly man and his aged herald cross the bloodstained plain in the darkness, he was overcome by pity. He waved Hermes over and fondly ruffled the messenger's hair.

The second youngest Olympian endured it, as always.

“My beloved son, who holds mankind dearest, guides them and listens to them. Go and escort Priamos to the Achaean ships, but make sure that no one sees him, before he stands in front of the son of Peleus.”

Hermes put on his winged sandals and staff and landed on the coast near the ships in the guise of a young soldier from Akhilleus' troops. With his staff, he lulled the Achaeans to sleep, before going to find Priamos.

As he came into the king's field of view, he could tell that the old man was frightened.

But Hermes gently took the old man's hands and asked kindly: “Who are you, sir? What are you and your companion there doing out here in the middle of the night and with so much treasure? Don't you know how dangerous that is?”

“You're right, young man”, Priamos replied, “But one god must have at least some mercy with me. It must be a good omen, that we meet you here; I can see your wisdom as well as your beauty – you must have blessed parents.”

That I do, Hermes thought fondly, but kept his focus.

“That's true. But do answer my question. Are you trying to hide them, or are you all fleeing your city in panic, because you lost your best fighter – your son Hektor, the greatest of your warriors?”

Priamos tilted his head. “How do you know about my son? Who are you?”

“One of the soldiers of Akhilleus”, Hermes fibbed, “I often saw your son on the field of glory, even when we weren't allowed to fight, because our lord wouldn't let us.”

“Really!”, the king cried hopefully, “Tell me, what happened to my son's body? Is it still intact at the ships? Akhilleus didn't … he didn't … did he …?”

“It's still intact”, the Messenger soothed him. “Nothing of the outrage it suffered by Akhilleus could damage it – if it wasn't for the wounds, one could think he's sleeping! The gods care for him even in death.”

He couldn't help but feel horrible for the sorrow-stricken old man, who nearly burst into tears at these news and who really deserved better than all this woe.

Deciding to make it quick, before the mortal's suffering could get to him, Hermes guided Priamos to Akhilleus' tent.

Once there, he revealed himself: “Now I can tell you, that I am the god Hermes. My father sent me to guide and protect you. I must stay outside, because I don't want the trouble of being seen. But listen to me: when you go in there, clasp the knees of Peleus' son and beseech him in the name of his own dear parents, if you want him to hear you.”

.

Akhilleus gaped in amazement, as none other than Priamos came before him.

The long-suffering king of Troy fell onto his knees in front of his greatest enemy, clasping the knees and kissing the hands of the man, who had slain his children.

After reminding him of his father Peleus, who was waiting for his son to come home, Priamos ended his plea: “Fifty sons I had, before you Achaeans came and I got to keep none of them! Most were felled by cruel Ares. And the one son I could count on, the defender of my city and its inhabitants – oh Hektor, my child! – fell by your hand. I'm here to ransom him with rich gifts. Respect the gods and think of your father. Even more than him I have a right to your mercy, because I did what no other father in the world could ever bring himself to do: I kissed the hand of the man who murdered my son.”

The sight of this old man's infinite grief and the memory of his own father, who too would never see him again, did something to Akhilleus.

There was no more wrath in him, only sadness and grief.

That and something new.

Something he had never felt before: Compassion.

.

Hektor's body was ransomed and returned to his people.

Even on Olympos the gods could hear the crying of the Trojans for their prince.

The people, who mourned their greatest hero.

His parents, who lost their dearest son.

His remaining siblings, who lost the brother they had looked up to.

His widow, who hadn't been able to be at her husband's side, while he was dying.

Helena, who had been taken here against her will and was now mourning the only man besides Priamos, who had treated her with kindness, the only friend she'd had here.

The Trojans keened and bewailed Hektor for ten days.

On the eleventh day he was brought to the pyre.

The smoke rose high and with it carried prayers and weeping.

.

---

.

1) Naiades: river nymphs; Dryades: tree nymphs.

2) Astrapaios: "Lord of Lightning", one of Zeus' epithets.

3) Ennosigaios: "Shaker of the Earth", one of Poseidon's epithets.

4) The surface of the sun is appr. 5000°C hot.

5) In the Iliad Hektor doesn't actually respond to Akhilleus' refusal like that, but I thought that this was important to point out.

[mattzerella-sticks]

i’d like to teach the world to sing - 2: bad rap sheet, man

Mar del Vista, California - 1972

The groovy counterculture that dominated conversation in the past few years still clings to the landscape, floating around like smoke off a burning joint. Changed by the fires of war, Manson, and life into something new. Less trusting, optimistic, and innocent.

Cas is just one of many disillusioned hippies, saddled with a general distrust even before the movement self-imploded. Wary of about everything. Perfect for his line of work, where what’s on the surface might not match the truth underneath. It’s not an easy life, but he’s comfortable with how it goes. Coasting until he hears a case he has no business accepting. For one, it’s about a missing teen. And another, it’s personal.

Except Jack’s disappearance, like every other case he’s worked, isn’t so cut and dry. Like a rock skipping across a then-placid lake, the ripples stretch far and wide. Those waves slamming at Cas; of cops, federal agents, hippie cultists, and a certain green-eyed detective who’s a little too interested in Cas’s investigation.

Will Cas find Jack? Or will he drown in the tides.

           Smoke curled up from the joint dangling between Cas’s fingers, rising in puffs that flatten when they hit the roof of his car’s cabin. Lightning flashed in the distance, followed by a riotous boom that thundered alongside a sickening power chord. He chuckled, “Mother Nature must really be digging this groove.”

           “Of course she would. Only dull plastics can resist Hendrix’s power…” Jack coughed, gesturing for the joint. “You gonna hand that over?”

           “I don’t know, did you roll it?” Cas surrendered it, snickering. “Kids these days… all this talk about sharing the wealth, but not when it comes to their grass…”

           Jack brought the joint to his lips and sucked deep, its cherry bright red amidst the manmade fog. Highlighted further by the currents pouring across the windows and curtaining the outside streetlamps. “Yeah, it’s my grass,” he said on an exhale, “it’s been my grass the last three times. When are you bringing your own?”

           “Not my fault I somehow smoke my stash before we hang.” Cas grinned, leaning over and rustling Jack’s shaggy hair. “Like the universe knows or some other philosophical shit…”

           “Or you could buy more?”

           “Or I could buy more.” Jack and he laughed as another thunderclap echoed across the sky, overpowering Cas’s speaker system. Cas sighed and looked out the window, “Great night for a stakeout, huh?”

           When Cas first told Jack about his plans, he thought it would be perfect for field learning. The case was low risk – a husband suspecting his wife of having an affair with her coworker. He sat three tables away while they shared lunch and overheard pointless gossip between her and another woman through grocery aisles. No hint of any adultery. Tonight, he intended on hammering the final nail in by taking pictures of her enjoying a dinner with overseas client. Present them and then school his client on how being a working woman and a cheater were two ducks that didn’t swim in the same pond.

           But then Mother Nature’s heart won out, and she let loose fierce tears over the city. He heard the first rain drops hit when he showed Jack how to operate his camera. By the time Cas finished explaining, their golden hour was up.

           Now they sat hoping for a lull that seems farther and farther away.

           “Hey Cas,” Jack started, “Can I ask you something?”

           “Free country, man, no matter what Nixon thinks. What’s weighing on you?”

           Jack paused, taking another hit from the joint. “How would you go about…” He shifted, pulling a knee up and resting his arms on it. “If you were asked to find someone, how would you go about it?”

           Cas raised a skeptical brow and snatched back the joint. “I would tell them to hit up another idiot who’d be willing to take the bait.”

           “Well, what if you were that idiot. What would you do?”

           He mulled over his options. Deflection could work if he tried it until Jack gave up. But Cas knew Jack’s patience ran longer than his. With how he chewed on the love beads dangling around his neck, Jack waited eagerly for an answer. Jack would not budge no matter how many times Cas pushed. Useful if he ever fully committed to Cas’s life, but right now all it gets him is his way.

           Plus, Cas has a nasty habit of rolling over easier than a dog with a treat for the kid.

           “I guess I’d begin with where the client tells me to go,” Cas said, shrugging, staring at the joint instead of Jack. “Usually they have their own ideas, and while it’s never right… it’s a jumping off point. There’s probably a clue there that will lead me where I need to go next. Like breadcrumbs in a forest.”

           “What if the client didn’t have any idea?” Jack asked.

           “Then at least they’d have a name – I’d hope. You get a name, you can get anything,” he explained, “County records, newspapers… hell, if they’re shady I can hit up a few seedier parts of town and see if anyone knows them. We all leave a trail, and the harder we go about trying to cover that up the more intricate the web gets, and the easier it is for you to make a mistake. If there’s one there’ll be a whole lot more.”

           Jack hummed, Cas using the brief respite for a quick hit. He barely has the smoke in his lungs when the younger man continued. “Is it hard? Finding people? Is that why you wouldn’t want to take it?”

           “Listen, Jack,” Cas sighed, pinching the space between his brow. “Missing person’s cases they’re… it’s a tricky thing. Sometimes people disappear because they played the wrong game and ended up losing more than they bargained for, other times it’s random and can’t be pinned down with a good enough reason. But then there are… there are the people who follow the wind on their own call. Make the choice and disappear because they know where they were, who they were then, it wasn’t working. And I get that. Sometimes you just wanna not exist…” Cas sucks on the dwindling embers of Jack’s grass and stabs it into the dashboard, dropping the nub at his feet. His shoulders hurt from how low they hang. “Who am I to get in the way of freedom?”

           “Is that what you think about me?”

           “What?”

           “Do you think that’s why I left?” Jack asked, voice hollower than earlier, “Because I wanted the freedom? To get away?”

           Cas turned and faced Jack, gasping. Instead of red-rimmed hazel eyes, gaping black holes stared at him. Jack looked deathly pale. He jumped back, slamming into his car door. Broke the window and let the rain in. Torrents of it stabbed him, soaked through his jacket and rushed past him and into his car. He felt the water rise up to his ankles. “Jack?”

           Jack leaned forward, smiling. “Do you think you can find me?” Faster than he could blink, he reached out and struck. Squeezed his neck and dragged him until their foreheads touched. Jack’s breath smelt like rotten eggs. Water kept pouring in and now sat at his chest. “Or do you think I don’t want to be found?”

(continue reading on ao3)

(read chapter 1)

[moon-ruled-rising]

as the rain hides the stars

read the full story on Ao3...

ii. it feels so good to be so young and have this fun and be successful

The alarm on the nightstand let out its shrill buzz, unbothered by the fact that it was silenced four times before and its patron hadn’t moved from their bed. A pale hand snuck out from the white duvet and slapped the button before pushing the covers away. The mass of white-blonde hair hidden underneath groaned.

She uncovered her body and put her feet on the floor. Shoving her hair out of her face, she winced at the sun beaming through the sheer curtains on the terrace doors.

After a quick shower, one that left her smelling like honey and lavender and much more alert, she was ready to face the world. She looked for her robe but only found a white button-up shirt draped over the bedpost. She ignored the cold tiled floor and moved straight for the walk-in closet. Her Braavosi apartment was much smaller than her apartments in the palace at King’s Landing, but it was a kind of small she appreciated.

Despite the mess in the other room, she kept her closet and all other areas in her life organized. A habit from princess training. She found her favorite pair of distressed jeans and pulled a pair of ankle boots from their resting spot on the shelf. 

“Dany?” a groggy voice called from the bedroom. 

“In here.” she rifled through a drawer to find a shirt she wanted to wear. 

“That shirt looks great on you.”

Her latest and longest conquest, Daario leaned against the doorway, his eyes raking over her with the same hunger as last night. She shrugged his shirt off her shoulders and tossed it at him so he had at least something covering him. 

She met the heir to the Tyroshi tech company in a dive bar last summer during her stay in Slaver’s Bay. They spent her semester break holed up in an expensive hotel in Tolos, spoiling each other with extravagant gifts and room service. Now they lived in the same apartment building. Considering that their fling was nearing a year old, it was time to cut him loose.

But every time she entertained the thought of ending their arrangement, it left her with a hollow heart. She decided she was having too much fun to quit and allowed herself to continue. Everything was perfect, there was no need to change.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Dany warned.

A roguish smirk grew across his handsome face, “Like what?”

She pulled the black crop tee over her head. 

“Last night was fantastic,” he complimented.

Last night. They had dinner at an upscale restaurant, then went dancing at the hottest, most elite club. Then they’d stumbled back to her apartment, unable to keep their hands off each other.

“Isn’t it always?” she brushed past him to get to the bathroom.

He chuckled and followed her, leaning against the doorway again as he watched her put makeup on with amused eyes.

“So it’s like that.”

She paused applying her face serum to look at him, “Like what?”

When he didn’t respond right away she returned to her routine.

“Dany,” he sighed, “We’ve been doing this for a year.”

“And it’s been great.”

“But don’t you think it’s time we made things official.”

She froze, mid mascara stroke, to consider his words. They had been together for a while and Dany had  finally graduated from University. Turning their regular meetups into something more serious was the obvious move. And Dany was scared of it.

“You know how I feel about that.”

“Yes, but we’ve already been together so long, what’s the harm? Aren’t you ready to take the next step?”

The next step involved him meeting her family and getting approval from Rhaegar for their relationship to continue under the public eye. Which meant Daario would have to come to Westeros with her. Which also meant more cameras and flashing lights and yelling reporters. They’d survived in Essos because there were fewer prying eyes, depending on where they were hiding out. But Westerosi gossipers would scrutinize their every move. To Dany, it wasn’t worth the hassle.

“I’m not.”

“Oh, come on.”

“It’s true.”

“What do you have to be so afraid of?”

“Daario, let’s say that we do want to continue this … whatever we have.” she went back to applying her mascara. “And we want to make it official. That would require a trip to Westeros, specifically King’s Landing. You’re used to the occasional paparazzi standing outside the building, but Westeros is ten times worse. Your picture will be plastered on every magazine cover from Dorne to Casterly Rock, they’ll rip you apart before you can get a word out of your mouth.”

“Dany…”

“Not to mention the fact that if we want to make this official, official, we’ll have to get a blessing from the crown. And while you do have money, you’re still Tyroshi. And since Rhaegar has to make decisions based on what’s best for his realm, and you already put a sour taste in the mouths of the citizens thanks to the tabloids, Rhaegar won’t hesitate to get rid of you.”

“Get rid of me? Dany, that's ridiculous.”

“It happened to the one before you and we didn’t even make it to Westeros.”

“You’re just being paranoid. My family has good diplomatic standing, your brother would be a fool to say no to us.”

She rubbed her lips together to properly smudge her lipstick.

“Make no mistake. My brother is many things but a fool is not one of them.”

She pecked Daario on the cheek before leaving the bedroom altogether.

“This is only the first time we’ve talked about it. Maybe breakfast would change your mind?”

“It’s nearly noon and buying me expensive food won’t change my mind. You’re not meeting my family. Good morning Jorah.”

Dany’s assigned guard was already sitting in the common room, reading the daily tabloids, his feet propped on the coffee table.

She subscribed to them purely out of spite. They were like the great Braavosi comedies of old, hilarious and bawdy. Especially with the rumors they liked to make up about the Westerosi royal in their midst.

“Good morning, Your Highness. Have any plans this morning?”

“I was supposed to meet with Missandei for brunch, but she caught an early flight home. Family emergency.”

Jorah hummed and turned the page. She saw a picture of her from last night. Daario’s arm around her shoulders and her lipstick smudged, party dress riding dangerous high on her thighs and the neckline-

“Oh dear. Rhaegar’s not going to like that,” Jorah commented.

The world stopped turning. The beautiful morning came to a screeching halt as she saw the inset and the headline. 

In all of her time studying the history of the Targaryen Royal Family she’d never read anywhere about a princess suffering a nip slip. Dany was rarely embarrassed about these things, she’d spent time with the Dothraki, but her face burned and she felt nauseous. It was different when her boob was actually plastered across newstands. 

Sure, she partied but she’d always been careful. She and Daario never walked home together from bars and Dany wasn’t hungover so she couldn’t have drunk enough to let the nipple escape her notice.

“Gods, I’m a dead woman.”

Daario came into the common room, fully dressed and saw Dany’s predicament.

“Nice,” he commented to the inset of her breast on the front page.

“No.” she slapped his shoulder. “Not nice. I’m screwed. Why didn’t you tell me my boob was out!”

“If I’m being honest, I don’t even remember how we got home.”

Dany sank into the couch and buried her head in her hands.

“The gossipers are already down there. A lot more than usual.”

“Your Highness, you told me to ‘fuck off and let you have fun’ so I did. Otherwise this could’ve been avoided.”

“Shut up,” she grumbled.

Daario chuckled and Dany cheeks took on a new kind of heat. Her racing heart and mind zeroing in on the one thing they could control. At least her boob would cover up the fact that she walked home with Daario. Gods, they’d been so careful not to let the world get a peak of them. 

“What do you want me to do?” Daario asked, placing his hands on her shoulders.

“I want you to go back to your own apartment.”

“What?”

“I need to figure this out and I need you to not be here while I do it.”

“Dany, baby, I can help.”

“No, you can’t. Jorah…”

She heard the magazine in Jorah’s hands rustle, but all she saw was the Myrish carpet and the way her toes kneaded the plush weave.

“No need. I’m already leaving.”

She heard his heavy footsteps and the door to her apartment slamming. Then the one across the hall. Dany hated that she made him mad, but there was nothing else she could do. She didn’t need his lewd comments when it felt like her world was falling apart. He would be back around later, when he cooled off. 

She wanted to scream. The urge built up in her throat and burned like authentic Dothraki liquor. 

“What in the seven hells am I going to do?”

“I’m not your PR consultant but I think you should go out to your brunch and show them that you’re still well-put together. Remind them that you’re a princess, and a dragon.”

The last thing she wanted to do was show her face. She wanted to crawl back into her bed, put the covers over her head and ignore the present situation. But she was a dragon. When Aegon the Conqueror lost a battle, he didn’t retreat to Dragonstone and sulk, he got back on his horse and found a way. She was the blood of the dragon, nothing phased her. 

“You’re right. I need to be a dragon. I’ll go out to brunch and then I’ll start with the damage control.”

“Maybe those should be the other way around,” Jorah suggested.

“I can eat and email at the same time. I’m a natural multi-tasker. What time do you think it is in King’s Landing?”

“Almost ten.”

Dany grabbed her purse and slipped on her boots. Leaving the apartment building was never a problem before but Sir Jorah had to stick closer than usual. She put on her sunglasses and smiled at the cameras, giving them a little wave. Their voices sounded like gibberish as she passed, the flashes only diffused by the early afternoon fog. Her favorite restaurant, The Foghouse, wasn’t too far from her apartment building.

Luckily, the restaurant was exclusive and as soon as Dany stepped through the doors she was ushered to her table on the patio that overlooked the harbor. Her usual sparkling water was waiting for her.

The waitress welcomed them in Braavosi and asked what they wanted to order. When Dany answered her with ‘the usual’, the waitress just stared at her. Dany gave her the famous, “Don’t ask me, just figure it out” look and she scurried off, fear in her eyes. She took a sip of her water in a small victory.

“Do you think it’s too early to start drinking?” Dany consulted Jorah as she looked over the wine menu.

Ser Jorah made a noise of distaste and she set the menu down. 

She pulled out her phone, hunting through her contacts list for the one woman who could save her hide. Galazza Galare. 

Although Galare was based out of Meereen, her career as a publicist reached further than Slaver’s Bay. She was behind the success of Dany’s last outreach trip to the area, making sure the right photos were published and bullying the publishers into only positive and glowing reviews. Of course, none of her services came free and Galazza never accepted cash if her customer had something better to offer. That was what got her a guest lecture at the University of Braavos, which gave her more interns and interest. She played the game better than Dany’s ancestors.

“Is Galazza there? It’s Daenerys,” Dany stated as soon as the dial tone ended.

The receptionist questioned her in bastard Valyrian, the growling tongue coarse against Dany’s ears. It took everything in her not to hang up.

“Targaryen. Tell her it’s an emergency and she’ll be well compensated,” 

The receptionist put her through. When the other line picked up, an electronic dance beat played beneath Galazza’s greeting.

“Dany, darling, you’ve got to tell me how you do it?”

Galazza’s accented voice was almost a comfort. If there was anyone who could take care of the problem it was her.

“Don’t get me started Galazza. I just want the picture taken down. And an apology from that tabloid if you can get it.”

Fingers tapping on keys accompanied the music, “A formal statement from the publication, I can do. Getting that picture taken down when it’s already on the internet and a majority of the world has seen it will be near impossible, but I’ll see what I can do.”

“What if we did a press release and overshadowed this,” she offered, considering what Daario mentioned earlier about making their “thing” official.

It was tempting to hide away in Essos. To settle down in one of the Free Cities and start on her career as a civil rights attorney, maybe with Daario by her side. Ignoring her family drama was the most enticing part of it.  But did she like Daario enough to take the next step? Sure, they'd been messing around for a while and money wouldn't be an issue but Dany couldn't help thinking that the only reason they were still together was that they were comfortable. Or was she too afraid to admit that she was willing to settle down? No, she was a woman who knew what she wanted, and right then she wanted the embarrassing photo of her down. The other issue could be resolved later.

“I don’t think there’s a way to overshadow this, it’s huge. We haven’t seen a Targaryen nude since … never. Well, there was that scandal with Deria Martell’s nude portraits from the 1800s, but she isn’t a real Targaryen and I think they proved it wasn’t really her in the painting.”

“I just don’t want to deal with Rhaegar.”

Rhaegar took after their father when it came to protecting their reputation. And Aerys wasn’t all that concerned with it either until Viserys. 

He was always causing trouble, Elia said it was because he was the middle child and was jealous of the attention Dany and Rhaegar received. Not to mention losing his mother at a very young age. Starting fights, shoplifting, partying, and bringing home unfavorable women. He lashed out at Dany whenever he saw her. Once he attacked her so viciously it left scars and Aerys had them separated. It wasn’t until the year before Dany finished secondary school that Viserys’ behavior became downright terrifying. 

He was out late drinking in one of the seedy bars in Flea Bottom and the combination of drugs and alcohol drove him mad. He evaded his security officer and stole a car, driving it off the cliffs at the edge of the city. King Aerys raised the banners, but his body was never found.

“I understand, darling, but it may be out of my control this time. I’ll call you back when I figure something out,” Galazza affirmed.

“Thank you so much. What do I owe you?”

“I’ll get back to you on that.”

Galazza hung up as Dany’s food arrived. Chopped eggs with fiery peppers, bacon, and a light gravy with orange slices on the side. Instead of digging in right away, she pushed it around her plate. Her appetite stolen by the events of the morning. Galazza’s answer wasn’t enough to settle Dany anxiousness and she kept glancing at her phone, waiting for the palace to call.

When she finally decided to eat a bite it tasted like cardboard. Not even the fiery peppers woke up her senses. She sighed at it instead.

“Dany…” Sir Jorah prompted.

He never called her Your Highness when he consoled her. He knew that she needed a friend. 

“Galazza said that it might be impossible to get the photos removed because they’ve been replicated and spread all over the internet,” she responded.

“I’m sure everything will be fine. Galazza works hard and you’re her best client. She’ll try everything she can.”

“But what if it’s not enough?”

“Then we hope Baelish can do damage control,” Jorah joked.

Dany ended up getting her eggs to go so she could mope in her apartment. She smiled at the paps as they passed, trying her best to act as though the world wasn’t crumbling around her. How many people had seen her tit today? How many times was the picture shared and reposted?

She changed into her comfy sweats and a baggy tee shirt, her favorite fuzzy socks on her feet. Dany balled up on the couch and stared at her phone on the coffee table, willing the screen to stay black.

Part of her wanted it to ring. Maybe she would get to talk to Elia instead of Rhaegar. Hearing her sister-in-law’s soothing Dornish voice would calm her and give her comfort.

Queen Rhaella died after giving birth to Dany, so Elia took it upon herself to fill the hole when she moved to court. Even though Elia was merely engaged to Rhaegar at the time. The two have been close ever since. Dany even stepped in on babysitter duty when Elia needed her to. Despite a whole army of nannies and governesses, Elia insisted on raising her children herself, even when her duties as Queen Matrimonial took precedence.

Dany couldn’t stand the waiting. Patience wasn’t one of her virtues. She busied herself in the kitchen, cleaning the dishes and rearranging everything. Ser Jorah came in to shoo her out because she was making too much noise. So she moved to the en suite bathroom and scrubbed down the tiles and organized her makeup. She made a point of watering the plants on the terrace even though they got plenty of water sitting outside. She also wanted to move the furniture around, but Ser Jorah stopped her from doing that too. 

She made them lunch. Dany wasn’t a great cook, she was decent from a certain point of view, but as long as the dish was simple she could do it. And when they were done, she cleaned the kitchen again. 

Instead of finding more useless tasks to busy herself with, she balled back up on the couch to stare at the phone screen again. 

When the phone began vibrating, Dany didn’t believe it. But it wasn’t Elia’s personal number, just the palace’s secure line. She slid her finger across the screen with hesitation and turned it on speaker.

“Hello?”

“Dany…”

It was Rheagar. His voice sounded disappointed. She toyed with a fuzz on her sweatpants, feeling oddly vulnerable. The last thing she wanted was Rhaegar’s disapproval.

“I’m glad you called,” she offered.

“I think we’ve both been dreading this conversation.”

Since this morning, she thought. 

“Dany, I think-”

“Rhaegar, I’m really sorry. I know I messed up, but I honestly didn’t know. I was too tipsy and should’ve left the back way but if I’m being honest I didn’t think there would be so many photographers.”

“Dany, I think it’s time you came home.”

“What?”

“Besides your behavior in Essos, Elia and I think it’s time you came home. Aegon and Rhaenys ask about you a lot. They miss you.”

“They do?”

She’d only been home for two days the last time. Hardly enough time for young children to enjoy their aunt. And they crowned Dany the fun aunt because she brought them candy and gifts from Essos.

“The annual charity gala is tomorrow and we want you there. I’ve arranged for a flight early tomorrow morning so you’ll be home in enough time. You’d better be on it.”

Dany didn’t respond. She didn’t know how. Something in her yearned for Westeros but another part of her dug its stubborn heels into the ground and refused. She didn’t belong in the spotlight. The events of last night proved that. 

That was why they wanted her home. So they could control her movements. 

Before Dany could come up with a wiseass remark, the line clicked. Rhaegar was gone. She had to pack, he wouldn’t appreciate it if she was late.