#this is v cynical read at own risk

[flowers-of-io]

Dunno if you read my tags on that recent Light v Dark post yet BUT… I think the idea of Savathûn becoming a Lightbearer as the (current) penultimate example of the Traveler / the Light favouring complexity-change-growth-expansion would be very interesting to you. Of Savathûn literally rejecting simplicity by ridding herself of her worm in favour of choosing complexity / the Light and the Light in turn choosing her. 👀

I'm!!!!! You're SO right about the whole thing but these tags especially smacked me in the face because. ouGH.

I'm terminally sick about the fact that the Light is all about choice. The Winnower says about the Gardener:

That wandering refugee chose to make a stand, spend their power to say: "Here I prove myself right. Here I wager that, given power over physics and the trust of absolute freedom, people will choose to build and protect a gentle kingdom ringed in spears. And not fall to temptation. And not surrender to division. And never yield to the cynicism that says, everyone else is so good that I can afford to be a little evil."

It's all about giving you a gift and letting you choose what to do with it--all by yourself, out of your free will. All this talk about the Traveler choosing Guardians, the Young Wolf being "Traveler's Chosen", and yet you must first choose to be chosen! Light is a reckless gift because the Gardener wagers you will use it well, even (and maybe especially) if you don't remember making the choice to accept it. Nokris says in Arrivals, "Give and be given. Take and be Taken.", and this--this is exactly what is required, only this: devotion that births bravery that births sacrifice--this ultimate offering of giving yourself up for someone else...

And yes, yes, this is exactly why Immaru chose Savathûn!!!!! I'm INSANE over the fact the Traveler showed her the vision of her death--"I saw the end before it happened"--when she was still in the crystal. It knew her so well!!! It knew her nature had always been cunning and insight and--quoting Savathûn herself here--"ignorance keeps, knowledge usurps". Savathûn, who after millennia of serving the Deep had still been wary of the Logic, because she had not found that strict, eternal proof it was right. Savathûn who fed on people's failed guesses about her, who flipped the absolute shit when we dared assume we knew her.

And what the Traveler did was smack the ultimate lesson about trust into her and tell her she would never know!!!! She would never be sure!!!!! If there's an answer, I don't hear it!!!!!!! BECAUSE NOW THE WORLD BEGINS TO FADE!!!!! And it fucks me up so much because then in the Altar of Reflection Savathûn says, "I didn't want to die, you know. I had always wanted to live." One of the first things we learn about her, back when she was Sathona, is her mortifying fear of death. She says about the forst year of sailing with her sisters, "these are the happiest years of my life", and RIGHT AFTER THAT writes: "I want to be a mother not because I want to spawn but because I want a long life. Long enough to make a difference. We have been at sea a year and I am afraid, afraid we will die out here." This is what prompted her to dive, that they were running out of time and she was almost too old to eat the mother jelly. More time. More life.......

AND SHE STILL CHOSE TO GO THROUGH WITH IT. DESPITE NOT BEING SURE. DESPITE RISKING EVERYTHING.

My feelings about Sav outright asking the Traveler to save her, submitting to it, calling herself a supplicant, are a whole 'nother can of worms entirely, but--again--CHOICE.

I love your notion that she gave it all up to have a choice--not only to side with the Light, but also in the broader sense, to be free to make her own fate.

And we should mention too how insane a wager the Traveler was making here. This woman had stalked it for billions of years! This woman who cannot be trusted, who feeds on deceit, who had once stood for everything the Traveler is genuinely afraid of. This had all the right to go so horrendously, spectacularly wrong!!! And to some extent it did, and that's even more insane, because the Traveler did this immense act of trust, and she did an immense act or trust, and then she just went and immediately broke it. Proving the Winnower right, unwittingly as it were.

AND WHAT'S EVEN MORE INSANE is that the Traveler DOESN'T PUNISH HER FOR IT. ALRIGHT? LET THAT SINK IN. She doesn't get laserbeamed to death, the Traveler doesn't remove her Light, Ghost cries about why the Traveler isn't doing anything--even after we free it from the cobwebs! It is still just there, silently watching. And the last thing it does when Sav finally dies is blinding us with a flash of light right as Immaru escapes, so that we won't catch him.

There's this play I had to read in high school, The Undivine Comedy (the one by Z. Krasiński, not the one by T. Barolini), I absolutely hated the story but loved the tropes. I should probably dissect it in a separate post on my main, especially the point it makes regarding the romanticisation of an artist's lifestyle, but that's for another day. But here I wanted to talk about the ending, when Pancras (essentially the epitome of evil) screams, "Galilaee, victis" in all caps and gets laserbeamed to death by the light of God's glory. And I remember being like holy shit when I read that, because I'm always like holy shit when the cornered antagonist realises the Force Of Good was actually right, like when Savathûn (SAVATHÛN, with her plans upon plans!!!) admits she miscalculated. But put in a (roughly) the same situation, in the general orbit of the same trope, Pancras gets obliterated and (dead, vulnerable) Savathûn has her Ghost saved from certain death by the very entity whom trust she has just broken.

Because redemption is not a single grand decision!!! It's a decision. And then it's a decision. And then it's a decision. It's making this choice over and over to build and protect, not to fall to temptation, not to surrender to division. It's not a pact, like with the worms, a single choice you can never back up from. No, there is always a way out, always the choice to stop choosing the Light. THIS is forgiveness!!! THIS is a redemption arc!!! And it's still far from being done, and I'm so here to see it unfold, and I'm in tears.

Anyway. Yeah. I, um, I'm sorry if you expected a more hinged reply to that...

[the---hermit]

What Lies In The Woods by Kate Alice Marshall

I really didn't like this. I have not dnf-ed it because I was listening to the audiobook and was curious to know the ending but it's definitely an avoidable book that I am glad I didn't spend money on. The ratings for this novel online are very high and I genuinely don't understand why. This book is an adult thriller narrated in first person by the main character, Naomi. She survived an attempted murder when she was a child while she was in the woods with her two best friends. After the man who allegedly attacked her dies in prison the three of them meet up again. We know right from the beginning the three girls didn't say everything or lied about some stuff after that awful day, and the story is mainly focused on that. I will not say much more, because since this is a thriller many things could cound as spoilers. My spoilery complaints will be under the cut, everything that follows is spoiler free, so fear not. As I said I didn't like this book. Firstly the main character is incredibly annoying, I couldn't empathize with her for the life of me, and I have yet to understand whether I hated every single character because we see them from her perspective, or because of the writing. In any case I did not like any character in this story. Most twists were very predictable, I think I didn't see one thing coming at the very end, and that didn't really save the book for me. The main twist was exactly the first hypotesis I had at the very beginning of the book and that I had dismissed because I thought it would be a meh solution for it (v technical terminology, I know). The main character spends the entire book saying "this would be the best/most logical thing to do" and then proceds to do the exact opposite all of the time. I think she is supposed to be in her 30s but it never really felt like it? At least from the way she acted. It's not that easy to say what I didn't like without spoilers and in general I just had such a bad time with this book I could never remember all the details that seemed off for me while I was reading it. Overall I wouldn't recommend spending money on this book. The premise seemed very intresting, there was some potential in the idea, but the overall execution really lacked for me. I think I just didn't like the writing at all, and I doubt I'd read more by this author. This definitely wasn't my thing.

I read this book for the thirller prompt of the 2023 genre bingo.

This part contains some spoilers so read at your own risk (it is in fact a random list of potentially spoilery thoughts and complaints).

The moral of this story is do not trust anyone because they are all liers that will betray you somehow if they haven't betrayed you yet. And this it mostly due to the fact that the authot litteraly gave every single character some sort of twist one way or another. The main character looks like a fool by the end of the book were clearly everyone knows way better than her what happened when she was a kid and lied to her. She also is described as this sarcastic ad cynical person all of the time, full of secrets who doesn't open up with anyone, and then in a matter of a few days she tells all her deep dark secrets to a guy she has just met (that also didn't get into her life in the best way, because podcast guy definitely didn't seem that trustworthy when they first met). She claims to be in love with him after knowing him for a week, and to be honest it was clear from his first appearence they would end up together no matter how they met. I also thought the way Oscar (is that the name of Cass' brother? I can't even remember at this point) was portrayed was kinda weird. He is described as this awful guy, it's very clear from the beginning that he assaulted Naomi when they were younger, but at the very end it almost seems like the author is trying to make him look better without never really developping his character? Like you found out he wasn't the killer, so he's now a good character even though what he did in the past? I don't know if I interpreted it wrong, but it was very ambiguous. Then as I said the big twist of it's been her friends who stabbed her all along didn't feel like a big twist at all? From the start when she said they lied about something and it was implied they played the goddess game, my first thought was "her friends did it". I dismissed it because if felt kinda obvious? Or at least it didn't really feel as shocking as the author intended it to be. I could go on with complaints, on how much every single character is unbelievable annoying and all but to be honest I have spent enough energy complaining about a book that clearly wasn't for me.

Save some time and money and go for another thriller. If on the other hand you are one of the pople who read the book and liked it I would like to know your point of view, what were the things you liked and why? I clearly didn't have a good time with it and I'd love to understand the point of view of those who gave it such an high rating.

[cyberpunkpizzaman]

Reflections on Cyberpunk 2077

Cyberpunk 2077 is an excellent game plagued by mismatched expectations, a buggy release, and a surplus of hype. It's also a quintessentially cyberpunk story — the world and story of Cyberpunk 2077 are informed by and centered on influences that stretch back to William Gibson's Neuromancer (and the entire Sprawl trilogy), along with Neal Stephenson's Snow Crash and a bevy of others. It is, as its name suggests, a cyberpunk game through and through.

Cyberpunk: World-Building and Characterization

I'm going to start by saying that I have not played, read, or otherwise engaged with the tabletop RPG Cyberpunk 2077 is based on — I've leafed through the core rulebook once and that's about it. My interest in and my understanding of cyberpunk as a genre stems from the works of William Gibson, Neal Stephenson, and the like. Literary influences drive my affection for the genre and my sense for what it is and what it is not.

Fundamentally, cyberpunk stories center on anxieties about the future. Unlike more typical science fiction, cyberpunk stories envisage a world not 500 or 1000 years in the future, but a world 30, maybe 40 years out. A world much like our own, but with the a few more grains of sand through the hourglass. A world controlled by corporations and crime lords, a world in which legitimate business and crime are nothing but two sides of the same coin, a world in which governments fade into the background and day-to-day survival hinges on stringing together a series of jobs and criminal acts just to stay afloat. And a world in which technology serves not to level the playing field, but to enrich the wealthy and protect the powerful. Cyberpunk may look like neon and chrome, but cyberpunk is about chronic inequality, exploitation, and the ravenous pursuit of profit without regard for humanity.

It's bleak.

The protagonists of cyberpunk stories are hustlers and thieves. Neuromancer's Case is a hacker addicted to speed who nearly died after a job gone wrong. Snow Crash's Hiroaki Protagonist is a freelance hacker in debt to the Mafia who splits his time delivering pizzas and scrounging up information on up-and-coming rock stars. Jonny Mnemonic's Jonny is so hard up for cash that he rents out space in his brain to anyone in need of secure storage for their secrets, locking them away so that even he cannot recall them.

Cyberpunk protagonists are one step away from homelessness, crushed by the weight of systemic inequality and corporate power. They're also renegades, mercenaries who have opted out of traditional employment, choosing to live on the edge instead of bending the knee to some corporate executive.

So how does Cyberpunk 2077's V stack up?

No matter the background you select at the start of the game, V ends up in the same spot — pulling dangerous jobs and risking their life to make a quick buck. Sometimes that means saving a wealthy client, and sometimes that means not asking too many questions when the trunk of the car you're driving starts making noises.

You have no long-term goals or aspirations; the best you can hope for is to go out in a blaze of glory, remembered by your fellow mercenaries. Maybe you'll get a drink named after you if you die well enough.

V's own perspective on the world is fundamentally cynical. Bad things happen to good people, and everyone's in it for themselves. Loyalty is a rare commodity and all the more treasured as a result. Violence is an everday affair, and nightmare fuel always lies just around the next corner.

V fits the archetype better than any cyberpunk game protagonist I've seen in a while. That sense of desperation, of living on the edge is there in a way other games lack. As GB 'Doc' Burford puts it:

"This game is one of the best depictions of lower-class life I’ve ever seen in a game. I felt recognized in a way I haven’t before; they get poverty, the desire to get out of it, ambition and dreams and no way to realize it." — GB 'Doc' Burford on Cyberpunk 2077

Cyberpunk: Plot

Cyberpunk stories are about using a combination of technology, skills, and a deep reserve of sheer will to fuck over one of the world's great powers — a corrupt government, a globe-spanning megacorporation, a power-hungry monopolist. It's about looking at the state of the world and saying "you know, this ain't changing. But I can at least make my mark by hurting the fuckers who made it this way." And maybe. Just maybe. Things get slightly better in the process. People get a little more freedom.

These are stories where winning means going on the run for the rest of your short life. Stories where winning means leaving ruin in your wake and bodies on the floor. Stories where your long-term impact might be the slight moment of hesitation a mega-corp exec experiences before doing something heinous, a brief flash of "what if that happens to me?" It's about going out in a blaze of glory for you... and because others might bask in that glow.

Cyberpunk 2077 nails this feeling.

Conclusion

Cyberpunk 2077 is one of the best games I've played. Like the best works in the genre, it's all about the feel. Driving past glittering advertisements at night, immersed in the loglo. Planning a daring incursion into corporate territory. Sacrificing more and more humanity in exchange for better and better chrome.

It's a titanic work and it all hangs together stylistically. It's worth checking the game out, especially if you like the cyberpunk genre.

All links to the game throughout this post are Humble Bundle affiliate links; I get a small portion of any purchase made after using them.

Thanks for reading!

[captivismarchive-blog]

blue lights || self past-para

you'd better run when you hear the sirens coming, when you hear the sirens coming. the blue lights are coming for you. what have you done? there’s no need to run if you’ve done nothing wrong. blue lights should just pass you by. xxx.

tw: police brutality, drugs, violence, ptsd.

fingertips were stroking the shaved side of his head, locks piled on top as his eyes stared at the ceiling. he was laid back on the lap of some honey he’d met through his brother’s friends, eyes staring at the strobe lights on the ceiling of the small house party. you wanna get out of here?

he was tripping balls, but his barely-moustached lips still curved into a smile and nodded at the pretty girl. she had this long blonde hair and piercing green eyes, like some kind of fairy out of a book. it didn’t make sense for someone so sweet looking to be at a party like this, where most of the dudes were criminals. though, given that both of them were just over the hump of being eighteen, perhaps neither of them really should have been there.

gun crime to your right and drugs and violence to your left, before our headphones flooding the order into a subconscious wave you accept. you're sitting on the floor back home - where you at g? answer your phone - pulls the poison to answer his message, your voice sounds rush, fists for his adolescence. 

as he stood up, the girl giggled and twirled her hair up at him. she was feeling him hard and he knew that even through the drugs he was on. when he looked at her, her hair floated up like she was in water, bubbles forming around her. dilated eyes squinted, laughing at what he saw. what? why are you laughing at me? 

the way the lights were dancing off of her face made her look ethereal, and he didn’t notice when those lights turned blue. he became so fixated on the way the cold blue reflected in the warm gold of her hair, the artist in him was unable not to focus on the beauty of what he was seeing. “i wanna draw you so bad right now,” he grumbled with a little boyish chuckle.

there was a commotion in other room, and z heard a loud crash. suddenly the house was filling with smoke, and it had all happened so quickly that z hadn’t really been able to process what was going on. suddenly an older man grabbed him by the shoulder. “you drake’s brother?!” he asked urgently.

z’s brows furrowed, “what?!” he asked, yelling over the music as he heard another crash and then some screaming in the next room over. now he could see that the girl he was with was pulling on his shirt, trying to get him to move. “yes! drake is his brother!” the girl cried, the older man jerking z by his collar, mumbling profanities. “run, stupid-ass kid!” the girl grabbed his hand and she and z were running out of the back door of the house.

i wanna turn those blue lights into strobe lights, not blue flashing lights, maybe fairy lights. those blue lights into strobe lights, maybe even fairy lights, not blue flashing lights.

once they were outside z could see the commotion going on, the drugs that he was on making his emotions more intense than they usually would have been. there were people cuffed and sitting on the side of the street in the front yard, multiple cop cars, people running and screaming in all different directions. did they really do a bust with a whole house full of people? his emotions overwhelmed him; confusion, fear, anger. his running slowed to a stop, the girl he was with still tugging on his arm. “zack, come on!” she screamed.

“where is drake?” his heart was thudding out of his chest. he’d been tripping for two hours or so already and he couldn’t remember where drake had gone. did he leave the party? was he still inside with the smoke? 

you! freeze!

“zack!” the girl squealed, letting go of his hand and running away as fast as she could, leaving him standing there. a pair of cops were running in his direction.

put your hands where i can see ‘em!

z’s eyes were pooling with tears, eyes darting around. he’d just turned eighteen a few weeks ago and he felt so grown, and now he felt like a child. the world was confusing and all he wanted was to find his brother and go home. 

“don’t move z! don’t fucking move!” that was his brother’s girlfriend of the week, who was cuffed and sitting on the ground in the front yard with a few other girls he recognized from his brother’s friend group. “they might not shoot that lil white girl but they’ll shoot you!”

they’ll shoot you. that sentence would haunt him for years to come.

on your knees! on your fucking knees, punk!

z’s eyes focused on the faces of two police officers, guns pointed at him. a cold type of fear spread through him, all the color of the world that his psychedelic high had created fading away into nothing but black and white. he lowered down onto his knees with his hands up, looking up at the barrel of the gun with a mean-mug of a face. 

one cop kept the gun aimed, the other going around back to cuff him. he felt a boot on his back, kicking him forward so that he was face down on the grass. he heard his brother’s girl again. 

leave him alone! he didn’t do anything; he’s just a kid!

and that was the moment that z learned that he didn’t have to do anything to be considered a threat. in the context of his acid trip, everything suddenly seemed so clear to him. this was the way the world worked. one minute he was lying on a couch having a great night with a pretty girl, and the next minute that girl had left him for dead with a gun pointed at his head. 

and he would never forget that either.

you'd better run when you hear the sirens coming, when you hear the sirens coming. the blue lights are coming for you. what have you done? there’s no need to run if you’ve done nothing wrong. blue lights should just pass you by.

[softer-ua]

i can't be the only one who wants izuku to get fucking pissed at his situation, at all might, start questioning what the fuck is going on with OFA.

because if you're going to trust a fifteen year old with something like OFA and bind them to the life of a symbol, you do not get to withhold information. deku was not told he'd be dealing with an enemy like AFO when he got the quirk, nor was he told that basically its whole point was not fighting some vague concept of evil, but fighting a very tangible very dangerous villain. he wasn't told that up until all might, inheriting this power was guaranteed suicide, and even after all might you only have a vague chance of survival. to be offered such a life altering "gift", Izuku should have been warned of everything. from the start. and if not then then from the very moment izuku started seeing vestiges, or at least when AFO resurfaced. WHY IN GOD'S NAME WOULD YOU HIDE ANY, ANY BIT OF INFORMATION ON A QUIRK THAT IMPORTANT?????

no because, if you look at it cynically, All Might took this kid who had nothing and who looked up to him as effective god. He took this kid who he knew had no sense of no self-care or self-preservation. This extremely reckless kid who he saw putting his life at risk three times (sludge v1, hanging on to AM as he jumped, sludge v Katsuki) within 24 hours. He picked this kid who he knew would give everything (because Izuku had "nothing", and therefore nothing to lose) and "gifted" him with a ticking time bomb. Of course Izuku is willing to break himself if it means using OFA to max potential. So much of his self-worth is based on OFA. He's said time and time again he isn't sure if he deserves it, that it's a borrowed power. If you've taken this kid and given him everything practically overnight, of course he'll go to self-destructive lengths to prove himself worthy of it. Who'd want to go back to being nothing after all?

And this is a logical conclusion. Someone like Izuku, someone like All Might probably used to be in his youth and still kind of is, they're perfect to be put on this kind suicide mission. They're a perfect vessel. Sure they're heroic and brave and selfless, but most importantly they're willing to die for the cause. OFA the quirk knows this. Literally two seconds after Katsuki sacrifices himself telling Deku not to do shit alone, Deku renders said sacrifice useless by doing exactly what Katsuki warned him not to😭 And the quirk and vestiges encourage him. They don't give a shit about repercussions and Deku's chronic pain or possible arm paralysis. They just want to beat AFO. You go son you break those arms 🤠

Doesn't it all feel a little bit exploitative?

Look at it like this. A kid is born with no power. This kid wants to be great, but the world says he can't. He meets his hero, and the hero says he can't either. Then the kid acts heroic, but reckless. The hero sees an opening. This kid is good and doesn't care one bit about his well-being? Jackpot! He offers the kid a deal. Great power, an extraordinary gift at surface layer. But one with so many more hidden strings attached that hurt and break and haunt the kid, that he was never warned about or taught how to deal with. But he can always give it to someone else! Can he, really? Can he go back to being nothing? With a personality like his, well nope. And that's why you pick the overly selfless reckless ones. The ones that will feel indebted to you to a ridiculous degree.

Isn't it like dare I say... like a deal with the devil?

As we progress more and more into the lore of AFO and OFA, I can really see why Katsuki's started to view it as a cursed power. And with how wildly different from expectations (at least mine) + far more nuanced the Todofam drama has revealed itself to be compared to what it seemed upon first intro, I'm inclined to believe there's more to the OFA story than clean cut, young bro good guy vs mean big bro oppression.

TL;DR - All Might is the metaphorical devil jr who gave Izuku a passed down deal, and neither he nor broccoli boy read the fine print.

Bakugo’s ghost sent me this ask 💀

Lol but seriously, these are all excellent points and I’ve been sitting on this ask until I had time to answer it because you’re absolutely goddamn right

This shit is explotive af, and I’ve got a suspicion as to why

I don’t think Deku was a random choice, there’s a layer of fate/mystic woven into the bnha world that gets over looked.

Sir had insane fortune telling abilities that were never once wrong about anything except when it came to the 2 OFA users fates. Deku even specifically says he’ll smash any fate in his way, and I think on some level he knows he can because he has a different destiny.

The vestiges break him from Shinsos hold, meaning the can have some level of control over Dekus body. You think AM noticed every time something like that happened? AM didn’t even notice Bakugo internalizing all the blame for his retirement even after watching his mom force him to apologize for it??

“I keep forgetting that your still a child” AM, sir, this is the third time you’ve admitted out loud that you were just gonna let Bakugo suffer his own fate 💀 please stop indicting yourself and at least pretend you care about Bakugo outside his relationship to Deku jfc

Also what are the chances you get nine random holders and none of them turn out to be corrupt or at least too self serving to die for the cause??? Slimmer than the pages bnha is printed on.

There’s something pulling some strings here, and I think it’s the true power of First users quirk.

What would be the point of transferring a quirk if that’s it’s only power?

What would be the point of this quirk being essentially password locked?

What would be the point of this quirk being able to forced on to someone?

There’ wouldn’t be any.

But what if that’s not what the quirk is?

What if the quirk is actually passing something along, and that’s why it’s dna based, it’s the transfer of an integral part of them.

Something that would change a person if forced on them but would possibly eradicate someone if stolen. Something like a souls desire? That could be a dangerous thing to give to someone else especially if it’s something they didn’t want, now they suddenly have to?

Then you give this quirk a strength enhancing quirk?

Now it’s got some juice, how much stronger did it get? Can it sense others with a similar goal, can it make its host gravitate towards those people?

Is the firsts quirk purposely finding exploitable heros, like Nana AM and Deku. All people who were/are willing to give up everything for the cause. How much of the first is in there, how much sentient power does this quirk have?

We know that Nana gave up her family, her child, for the cause. AM never bothered cultivating a family and pushed away Sir and anyone else who is anti him dying, and now we’re seeing Deku do the same.

Deku who had no friends to begin with, a dad who’s out of the picture, and an already slightly strained relationship with his mom?

Is this quirk capable of learning? Does it know that having people you care about slows you down from sacrificing yourself?

Does this quirk compound with the other users goals make the drive stronger each time?

Idk but there’s a glimmer of hope that Deku isn’t doomed to be a glorified meat puppet, and it exists in the form of Kacchan.

No one else had someone so deeply rooted to them, who could fight right along side them. Bakugo is an outlier in this story, almost the exact opposite kind of hero OFA wants, his connection to Deku breaks the cycle.

Deku would never give up on Katsuki, and even if he tried Endeavor will start coughing up ice cubes before Bakugo lets him. He couldn’t leave Deku alone when he was convinced he hated him, there’s no way he’d do it now.

Dekus story will be different from the other users that’s for sure.

[insfiringyou]

BTS - Going Solo (Part One) - Jimin x Ara

Contains: Angst. *Potential trigger warning for descriptions of panic attacks*

Set a few months following their scene in ‘Private Moments’, Ara is faced with a decision which will change the course of her future. 

(Part Two will be uploaded soon, after a few fics focusing on some of the other members.)

You can find out more about our headcanon universe and ongoing storyline here and more about our headcanon girlfriends here.

To read each member & their girlfriend’s headcanon universe fics in order, follow the links here: RM   /   Jin /   Suga /   J-Hope   /   Jimin   /   V   /   Jungkook & our full masterlist of fanart and fanfictions can be found here

If you wish to follow all member’s storylines in chronological order from the beginning, you can find them listed here.

Content below the cut

‘Jimin,

We just spoke, and you asked if I was happy. I think I am. At least most days.’

Ara typed slowly. Her nails had just been manicured and were longer than she was used to. The sound of acrylics against the keyboard rang through the small hotel room. 

‘When I’m with you I can feel really happy. You can be so sweet and loving and I appreciate you always check up on me - to make sure I’m okay. Touring is hard. You know it better than anybody else, and you tried to prepare me for it.’

She gave a soft sigh, knowing no one else would hear. The words were spilling out of her fingers before her brain had time to catch up, though she knew based on experience she would eventually work out what she was trying to say. The room was dark and the white glow from the word document was starting to make her eyes water. The contact lenses had been in all day and were getting on her nerves. Still, she persevered. She could remove them once she had finished. 

‘I’ve been asked to renew my contract.’

She stopped typing, heart thudding, and realised she felt scared. Her hand moved automatically to her stomach and she exhaled slowly before taking a deep, drawn out breath. She had been practicing and it had gotten easier. At first she would panic, and find her chest rising and falling like crazy, on the verge of hyperventilation, but soon she learned the trick; it was her stomach which was supposed to be moving, not her chest. Her cheeks were a little warm and she knew it was shame she was feeling, not embarrassment. She hadn’t told him yet, despite having known for over a week. Tentatively, she continued, fingers picking up speed as she became used to the sensation of the new nails. 

‘You remember me telling you the first was on a trial basis, based on sales. Well - whatever target they set for us, we must have hit it. Even you have noticed the increase in publicity lately...the T.V appearances. They’ve asked me to film a reality show. I don’t know what they’re expecting.’

Her brow furrowed, wondering...

‘I guess they might have asked you too?’

The laptop stayed silent for a long time and she rested her hands against the small, cheap desk as she gazed at the screen. Her mind suddenly seemed blank and she felt stupid. She would never send the document to Jimin, just as she hadn’t sent the ones she had written before; three month’s worth of unopened, worthless ramblings saved in some obscure folder on her desktop, trapped in the harddrive somewhere between her acoustic recordings and photographs of hairstyles she had saved from Pinterest. She often wondered why she even bothered to save them. Her counsellor had told her, time and time again, that keeping a diary would be helpful. She could record her mood swings and track her periods, along with keeping count of what she ate; wholegrains made her bloated, red food colourings brought out a rash. She sometimes worried she might be lactose intolerant, though could handle it in coffee. That type of thing. She kept it up at first; bashfully bringing the sparkly diary into the small office she visited once a month and reciting what she had written to the man opposite. He would nod sympathetically as she spoke, making a comment from time to time; asking how she felt about what she had put. But the company was paying him to do this; all the girls went, and she sometimes wondered if it was the food diary he was really interested in. If her manager was keeping track, making sure she and the other members were not overdoing it on the full-fat salad dressing and milky lattes. 

The diary entries began to dwindle and, not long after her last week-long visit back to Seoul, the meaningless letters on her laptop started. They were usually addressed to Jimin, though she had written several to her father and one to her brother. She wasn’t good with words; she had been told that often enough at school when she would have to read out loud from the book of the week in Literature, or come up with an argument in Business Studies. Her mouth would stumble and she’d turn red, both ashamed and humiliated, until the teacher inevitably took pity on her and told her to sit back down. Writing in private was much easier, especially when she knew no one but her would see.

‘I don’t know how to feel.’

The cursor hovered, blinking at the end of the last line. There was a heavy knock at the door and Ara jumped, hands automatically reaching for the laptop lid, before a familiar female voice called out.

“Ara? Are you coming?”

She quickly gathered herself, clicking the save icon at the top of the screen. The company had arranged a group meal in the restaurant downstairs, though she had forgotten, her mind distracted by more pressing thoughts.

“In a minute…I just need to change my lenses.” She called back, moving her finger against the touchpad as a pop-up appeared. She selected the save button once more, mouth twisting as she read the title in the little window: ‘Untitled #12.’ She wondered if she would ever get around to renaming them properly.

***

“Your hair has so much texture. I wish mine were thicker.”

Ara murmured in reply before catching the young stylist’s reflection in the mirror and realising how rude she must have sounded. Da-eun had come to the company some months before and was undeniably sweet. Too sweet, Ara sometimes thought, for the business she was in. The other makeup artists and hairdressers loved to keep one ear to the wall, in case there was a chance of promotion or, she rather cynically suspected, a way to increase their pay by selling gossip, but Da-eun didn’t seem like that. At least not yet.

After a moment’s hesitation, Ara smiled into the glass at the figure behind her. “I’m glad I have you to do it for me. The roots are a nightmare!”

Da-eun returned the smile and seemed to relax, but a curious expression still played on her features as she ran the straightener gently across the dyed tips of hair. “Are you tired?”

“I didn’t get much sleep.” Ara confirmed, briefly closing her eyes. Da-eun knew not to press her, but she couldn’t help but worry the younger woman might know more than she was letting on. They had shared hotel rooms in the past and, perhaps it was the stylist's instinct, used to paying close attention to detail, but she always seemed to tell when something was amiss. It was frustrating sometimes. 

“I looked at the schedule. You’re not going on set until last so you’ll have time to rest before you go out.” Da-eun murmured helpfully. Ara nodded, relieved. It occurred to her, not for the first time, that Da-eun should quit while she could; while she was still young and hopeful and kind. 

“I just don’t have the energy right now…” Ara sighed as she felt her hair being released. The younger woman finished working the ends and unplugged the device from the dressing room table. 

“Did you sign the contract yet?” 

Her voice was inquisitive and a little optimistic. Ara had never asked, but there was always the chance that Da-eun’s contract was somehow tied to her own; that if the group were to disband, she might lose her job. Ara shook her head lightly.

“No.”

Da-eun raised an eyebrow. “Are you having second thoughts?”

“I just haven’t had time to read it properly.” She said, truthfully. “It’s come around sooner than I thought…”

The stylist moved forward, reaching for the set of hairbrushes on the counter, before selecting the biggest. She teased through the ends of hair with her short fingers before brushing lightly along the bleached roots, smoothing the locks. 

“There’s been rumours.” The younger woman said, voice suddenly low as though she were worried about being overheard. A thick curtain set apart the dressing room from the photography studio, but it was always possible someone was listening. 

Ara blinked, tensing a little. “What?”

Da-eun smiled gently. “That you’re making a solo album.”

“Oh…” The older woman wasn’t sure what she had expected, but this news took her by surprise. “I wasn’t planning on it.” She shrugged.

“That’s a relief.” Da-eun beamed with a small laugh. “I’m looking forward to going home soon. Aren’t you?”

Ara opened her mouth to speak, not sure what she was going to say, but the curtain beside them drew apart suddenly; startling them both. 

“Oh! Costume change…” Da-eun exclaimed, setting down the brush and turning to accommodate the older woman who had just entered. Mimi was a year older than Ara and usually less prone to accidents, but the leather strap on her camisole suggested a wardrobe malfunction which needed attending to at once.

“Sorry to interrupt…” The other woman murmured apologetically, gesturing to Da-eun. “Could you fix this for me?”

“Sure.” She nodded, stepping away.

Ara’s phone had vibrated against her thigh twenty minutes before but she hadn’t wanted to risk opening the text, especially with someone standing over her shoulder. As Da-eun seated Mimi in the rotating chair on the opposite side of the room to take a look at her costume, Ara took the moment to slip the device from her pocket and flick through the recent notifications. Unsurprisingly, it had been Jimin who had texted and she read the sentence a couple of times before returning it to her pocket.

‘Two more weeks. I’m looking forward to seeing you. It’s been too long.’ 

***

Ara sipped from the glass, the cool water clearing her throat and offering a much needed refreshment from the events of the day. Her voice had become raspy from singing, but luckily she didn’t need it to type. 

‘Jimin,

I was cleaning my closet before we went on tour and found the dress I was wearing on the night we met.’

She found herself smiling, a little longingly, at the memory, a strange anecdote coming to mind.

‘It still has a Daiquiri stain on the hem and it’s too big for me now. I don’t know why I’m saving it.’

The thought made her sad, somehow. 

‘I wonder if you remember that night as clearly as I do. I didn’t want to leave. I knew you were with someone else, but I didn’t care.’

A deep frown played on her otherwise gentle features.

‘Does that make me a bad person?’

It wasn’t until she read the line back, she realised the thought had never occurred to her before. Not once in five years. She wondered why it suddenly seemed to matter. With a sigh, she continued, committing her trail of thoughts to the page.

‘You told me it was over the next time we met, and I believed you, but part of me wondered if you’d go back to her, once you knew how inexperienced I was. I guess I know how you feel sometimes. The whole thing has taken me by surprise as well. I never felt like anyone would want me.’

Her chest ached as she typed the final sentence; overwhelmed by emotion. It was true that the compliments and flirty glances she often received were met with an automatic but fleeting sense of glee. It felt novel, after so long of feeling like she didn’t deserve it. It sometimes still felt that way; back in the hotel room, after the cheers of the crowd had faded. She had brought the subject up with her company counsellor who had laughed it off, explaining that everyone suffered with imposter syndrome from time to time; she wasn’t the first and wouldn’t be the last. On the matter of flirting, she had kept that one to herself. It felt too personal and she was sure it would come across as vain. Occasionally it was unwarranted; the older mens’ eyes moving down her legs when she took to the stage in a short skirt back in Seoul, or the way she jumped in alarm when someone once slipped their hand down the back of her jeans while she stood tightly packed in an elevator in Osaka. But other times she found her heart racing and stomach churning; not thinking of Jimin until she tucked herself in bed at night. A pretty, tall waitress brushing her hand as she handed over the bill in a Thai restaurant, or the hotel doorman who had helped her move her luggage earlier in the week and smiled kindly at her in the lobby. She knew Jimin, of all people, would understand. She had seen the way he played the audience, like he had a secret to share with them all. Early in their relationship it had made her crazy; the way he seemed to flirt with anyone he came into contact with, often without even realising. But now the tables had turned. He would understand; but she wasn’t sure he would accept it. 

She glanced a warily at the shadowy corner of the room where an oversized bouquet of red roses sat on the dresser. They had arrived earlier to the hotel room, along with a postcard sized letter from her manager. He had been unable to make the trip to Taiwan but was waiting for her in Tokyo; the contract was ready, whenever she was ready to sign. The flowers seemed like a bribe; the gesture leaving a sour taste in her mouth. She wondered if the other two girls had received any, or if the privilege was all hers. 

The sound of her ringtone, a chirpy, summer tune, alerted her to the fact that an hour had already passed and it was getting late. She quickly swiped the screen and raised it to her ear, not wanting to wake up the neighbours.

“Hello?”

There was a pause before Jimin spoke. “How are you?” 

“Good.” She squinted at her watch with a frown. “What time is it there?”

“2am.”

“Shouldn’t you be in bed?” She asked, a little baffled. He hadn’t called her this late in a while.

“I only just got in. There was a company dinner.” He explained. “What are you up to?”

She hesitated. “Just thinking.”

He laughed, softly mocking her. “Just thinking?”

She shook her head, dismissing it. “Oh, it’s nothing…I was drying my hair.” She lied, fingering the ends of the bone-dry locks in an automatic response. “Da-eun dyed the tips purple for the photoshoot.”

“I liked the pink.” He groaned, a little sulkily.

“They thought purple would fit better with the concept photos.” She mumbled deflatedly. “It’s not really my choice.”

“You could change it when you come home.” He said hopefully. She heard the flirtatious grin in his voice and could picture his smile on the other end. “They can’t do anything about it once your contract has ended.” 

“Maybe.” 

She sounded distant and he noticed the change at once.

“Are you okay?” 

She closed her eyes tightly, temporarily blocking out the glare from the laptop screen. “I’m fine. It’s just been a long day.”

“Did you take a look at the brochures I emailed you?”

“I haven’t had time. I’m sure whatever you pick will be fine.” She knew she sounded a little irritated but was unable to mask it. The weight of the day suddenly seemed to dawn on her and she wanted nothing more than to go to bed. The last thing she wanted to talk about was moving house. 

“I’d really like you to help.” He argued lightly. “There’s a three bedroom going for sale on the Han River. Yoongi says it’s a good deal.”

Ara sighed. “I’m sure he’s right.”

A pause. 

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I wish you’d stop asking.” She pleaded, feeling on the verge of tears. Jimin seemed to hear the tremor in her voice and thought for a long moment before he spoke, tentatively.

“Maybe you should ask the doctor to change your medication again.”

Ara clutched the phone tightly. “It’s fine.” She tried to smile, hoping it would show in her voice. “I’m feeling much better, just tired.”

“Is that a side effect?” 

He sounded concerned and she nodded to herself, though she knew full well she hadn’t taken the time to read the little leaflet properly. “Probably. Maybe I just need some sleep.”

“Okay.” He agreed, though she sensed his trepidation. “I’d better go then.”

He sounded disappointed and Ara felt guilty once more. “I’m sorry Jimin.” She apologised softly. “It really was nice that you called. It’s just these time zones…”

“I understand.” 

She wondered if he did. Her eyes felt damp beneath her heavy, false eyelashes, making them itch. “I’ll talk to you soon.”

***

She had forgotten her contact lenses and had to rummage through her Birkin to retrieve her reading glasses. They felt strange on her nose and she wondered how she had ever made it through high school wearing them. At least she had been given a moment’s peace to read through the contract. The office overlooked Ueno Station and the rush of traffic below would be too distracting had someone also been watching her. 

‘As a permanent member of the label you should not bring the company into disrepute…’

She read carefully, though the paperwork seemed much larger than the last one she had signed. Some of the phrases looked familiar, such as the declaration of her dedication to being a ‘brand ambassador’, but others were definitely new. Her gaze hovered over one line:

‘...should not jeopardize future success…not limited to personal relationships, controversial thought or opinion including strong ties to political associations, ideologies or groups.’

She expected no less, particularly after Mimi was caught on camera reading a Betty Friedan book. The first part was more complicated and she wondered if Jimin’s management had asked something similar of him. 

With a sigh, she continued down the page, skimming the text now but picking up on key words which seemed important, ‘Maintain a visible and transparent social media presence….Agree to the screening and management of said accounts with the view of protecting our artists and their wellbeing.’

By the time she reached the end, it did not seem to matter and there was a strange comfort in realising this. The past three years had been carefully planned, organised, operated; her future written for her from the moment she stepped foot on stage for the first time. The moments of quiet between shows, or during her increasingly short stays back in Seoul, only seemed to complicate things further. Her thoughts were a mess whenever she stopped to breathe for a moment, and maybe it was easier to shut them off altogether; to give over all control and decision-making to someone else than to try and deal with them all herself. 

The fountain pen was heavier than she expected as she picked it off the table. It had the company brand embossed on the side in gold-leaf which seemed to reflect the fading light outside as the sun set below the concrete structure of the art museum to the West. Slowly, she signed her name on the final page; the ink blotting a little as she moved aside the bound file and repeated the motion on the second copy. The second attempt was neater as she grew used to the feel of the pen in her hand. There was a knack to it; just like many of the things she had grown to learn in her adult life; underwear should be washed on the delicate cycle, t-shirts should be turned inside out before they are ironed, glasses should not be left in the sink too long, should they smash. She had an assistant to do those things now, and her clothes were mostly dry cleaned these days. 

She neatened the piles of paper and put the lid back on the pen, so the ink wouldn’t dry. The first contract had been signed in black Biro, which hadn’t come with such demands. Reaching down, she picked up her black handbag and carefully folded her personal copy, slipping it between her lipstick and glasses case before adding the pen. She had probably paid for it anyway; in her own way. The green light on her phone was blinking and she slid it from the pouch in the lining. The text had arrived while she was in the meeting, which is why she hadn’t heard her phone go off. Her thumb paused over the messenger button for a moment, before she tapped the screen lightly; Jimin’s name and picture coming into view in the little window above the text. 

‘One more week! :)’

***

Thank you for reading. To read each member & their girlfriend’s headcanon universe fics in order, follow the links here: RM   /   Jin /   Suga  /   J-Hope   /   Jimin   /   V   /   Jungkook

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[arcticdementor]

I was talking to Sarah yesterday and I had a revelation I think is worth sharing.

Let’s begin at the beginning. About a month ago, Instapundit posted this.

Now, I’ve been thinking of the rise and fall of civilizations lately. I can’t think why it’s been on my mind. It’s a tale as old as time—a civilization emerges, establishes a new worthwhile order, the good things brought forth by said order soften up the people maintaining it, the softening turns to decadence, and the decadence gives way to the barbarians, who clean the slate. Where would you say things are lately?

…

In short—the federal government of the United States of America has become impotent at almost all good things.

Expanded out—There is no start to its talents. It cannot maintain its borders. Since the “election” it doesn’t even try. No surprise there. It cannot maintain friendly relationships with allies—as our recent screwing of Britain on our way out of Afghanistan shows. The “leader” of the “free world” could not be bothered to pick up the phone for our closest ally. Speaking of Afghanistan, it can’t win a war. It can’t even lose gracefully. In fact it fucked up leaving so badly some people are entertaining that it intended to fuck it up, because how the fuck does somebody above the age of six not notice that pulling the military out first and the civilians out second is not even a remotely workable strategy? Resulting in leaving millions of dollars of equipment—and—excuse me, what? Millions of dollars of dollars in the desert? Fantastic.

It makes self sabotaging and idiotic choices to stymie its own domestic oil industry, while accepting a pipeline not from Canada, but one that’s a joint Russian-German venture instead. Which means the problem, contrary to any environmentalist whining, isn’t the pipeline—it’s the pipeline with a friendly country. Big surprise— its only true interest in the environment lies in international agreements that hamstring us while doing nothing to China, the world’s largest polluter. It either can’t be trusted on energy production  and the environment, or is trying to get it wrong.

It can’t manage its economy. What could have been a “V” shaped recovery has been turned into an “L” shaped one. What could be contributing? Paying people to do nothing? Rampant inflation? Meanwhile all the dumbasses running the country can think of is spending several billion more dollars that don’t exist. The country has infrastructure problems for a fact, but they’ll only acknowledge that to the extent of cynically plastering the word on an “infrastructure” bill which is in fact just a far Left wishlist that largely ignores actual infrastructure, in the hopes people will be dumb enough to support it because it has the right label.

And on.

And on.

And on.

What aptitudes does it have besides taking money, trampling civil liberties, and ignoring constitutional laws at gunpoint? News flash, dummies: We don’t need peaceful protestors incarcerated without a trial. We don’t need the weight of the federal government turned to the problem of violating states rights because Texas passed a law Biden doesn’t like. We need military egresses that look like they weren’t planned by Bozo the clown and an economic plan better than something China would design for us as an attempt to permanently sink the country. Is there anyone at all in DC who can provide that? If not, is there anything useful they can do? I’ll wait.

…

This is what decadence looks like. When the government stops even attempting competence because nothing and nobody that currently exists can replace or displace them so who cares about results? When comfort and plenty have become so common, been taken for granted for so long, that the question of utility or even basic sanity isn’t even distantly considered. When it’s assumed that self-harming policies that will obviously damage the country won’t really matter because nobody has ever known a world without America and fundamentally has no idea how the present day came to be. When the country’s most educated start chasing bizarre and unimaginably stupid ideas on economics that boil down to “inflation won’t happen if you double the monetary supply by printing money, if only you just believe hard enough”. In fact, when education stops being a means to greater insight, more useful abilities, and a better life, and becomes a cult devoted to the kind of idiocy that can survive only with strenuous censorship, the tenets of the cult being treated by the indoctrinated as a collection of sacred mysteries and deeply-thought paradoxes— while to those not similarly trained it is self-obviously a collection of contradictory and self-serving lies.

Verily, decadence is here. We can infer that what comes next is the barbarians. And we have options. Mexican illegals? A heady mixture of poverty-stricken Marxists who have never known a system that wasn’t corrupt, functionally lawless, and devoted to the tenets of voting oneself rich; and outright criminals with lives like “a demon’s resumé”? Perhaps radical Muslims? By sheer numbers worldwide they’re the most likely option. The Taliban just got a huge infusion of cash and a big boost in morale. In a few short days we’ll know whether they’ve arranged a thank you gift for Zho Bi-Xen and his kleptocrat marching band to commemorate his intended pull-out date. But even if, and God I hope, they have not, we can expect an uptick in terrorism and quite shortly. Or perhaps China? The Middle Kingdom would laugh at being called barbarians, but I call genocidal communists like I see them. Mao was morally three steps below a pig and Xi has enough power to aspire to greater depths. As is I wouldn’t dream of feeding a pig Mu Shu Xi due to the great risk of poisoning the pig.

But there is a barbarian group not considered. Us.

Hang on. Before you balk, listen. Look again at what these idiots are selling as the fruits of civilization. Defenses of pedophilia and urinals as art. And more, too—sterilization and disfigurement of teenagers in the form of sex changes. Black supremacy as a panacea to made up threats of white supremacy. Books nobody reads, movies nobody watches, paintings that exist only to launder money—even the ones not made by Hunter Biden.

What good person would not be proud to be considered a barbarian by these miserable, over-decorated Faberge people? I’d be mortified if they agreed with me! So they think I’m a sexist or a racist or whatever. Fine. They do not use these words to mean the same things I mean, so it’s a pointless argument, and they are now officially beneath my explaining myself to them. When the people who are calling me names are so morally opaque that the Taliban can make devastating critiques of them just by referencing the foundational works of their own gender studies programs, I’m done caring about the names. Fine. I’m what you think is a racist. I’m what you think is a sexist. But you think a lot of very stupid things, and as the curtain continues to draw back on the carnival of madness that’s been behind the scenes the entire time it’s occurring to me that what you think and reality overlap so seldom that the only time not to ignore you is when I can ridicule you. If that is your civilization, someone hand me a pointy horned helmet.

…

Yes, this is a moment of peril, but also opportunity. See in your country what every hostile group listed above sees in it—the makings of great civilization, along other, less stupid lines. All of it guarded by weak, fat, stupid people with no will and no self-belief. Take that mindset and go forth.

Get involved in your local systems. There is an old prayer for God to make ones enemies ridiculous. Congratulations to whomever was still praying it. Your prayers have been answered. Will you tell me that you cannot defeat these people? People who lose casual debates to terrorists not on principle but on basic facts?

…

You can’t reason with them so don’t bother. Recent events have made it clear you may as well try to talk sense into a three-day-old mackerel. Just confront them with their own stupidity so that people who see the inevitable video understand what this is about, and don’t feel that you are too good to shout them out of the room. You’re the barbarian, remember? Not like the nice civilized people with their gender-queer Tik-Tokers pushing vaccine propaganda. That means you’re excused from conversations with morons. Don’t bother trying to find common ground. Look at where they’re standing! Do you want to try to find the midpoint between that and reality? Silly. Pointless. Send them back to their walled online gardens to whine to their equally stupid friends about the barbarians.

Can we take it back from the ground up? I don’t know. But hey, it’s got to be worth a shot. Join the fun! Find some friends and locate a low-hanging political event to raid. When was the last time you went to a town hall for your town? Isn’t just a part of you curious to know whether your local county commissioner starts by declaring her pronouns? Wouldn’t it be wonderful to see someone like that made very uncomfortable? You can make that happen. You can probably do it within the next month. Bring a few friends! Or a few dozen. Some of the people reading this probably were afraid to do that kind of thing for fear of losing their job. The Biden economy might have freed up some of your time. What have you got to lose now? More importantly, the way things are going, are you going to lose it anyway if things continue as they are? Think on it.

[himbowelsh]

Tough choice but may as well go in order. Guarnere, please. Thank you.

valentines day alphabet  ( accepting! )

A   :   AFFECTION.   how does your muse show affection?

Bill is very verbal about his affection. When he cares for someone, he’ll say it loud and proud. He’s always had a big mouth, but that just means he ain’t shy about telling people exactly how he feels  ---  and he’s liberal with praise, when it’s earned. He also shows affection by standing by people, having their backs through anything. If Bill will fight for someone, it means they’re worth it; if he fights with someone, it means he loves them.

B   :   BOUQUET.   does your muse like flowers? which ones are their favourite?

*confused Guarnere noises*  what the fuck is a flower   Look. He’ll go to the florist, flirt with her a little bit, and pick up something nice. That’s the best he can do. He can look very handsome marching up with a bouquet in hand, but don’t ask him what the hell’s in it.

C   :   CHOCOLATE.   does your muse like chocolate? which one is their favourite?

He’s not a fan of most chocolates. To be honest his nonna used to make her own  ---  she had a recipe for sweet chocolate that was to die for, and Little Billy was her favorite taste-tester. Compared to hers, store-bought chocolate just don’t cut it. 

D   :   DATE.   what is your muse’s ideal date? where / who with / etc?

Let him handle everything and he’ll be a happy man. Let him cook the dinner himself  ---  he’s got a special love for cooking, especially when his partner’s gonna be enjoying it  ---  let him arrange the table, let him choose the music, let him decide where they roll around at the end of the night. Bill likes being in charge. Granted, he’s drawn to partners who give him a run for his money in that department...  but his ideal date would be an intimate night in, just the two of them, all planned out by yours truly.

E   :   EMBRACE.   does your muse like hugs? what are their hugs like?

Bill hugs like a football coach. Very enthusiastic, kinda rough, lots of back patting and “good job, son” energy. He’s...  not good at tender hugs. If he’s trying to pump someone up, sure, he can manage that, but...  hugging somebody to comfort them? He’s not so good at that. Bill has trouble being soft, but can be very supportive when needed.

F   :   FLIRT.   is your muse good at flirting? how do they flirt?

Shameless, and shamelessly dirty. He takes flirting to a new level. Bill loves to buy people drinks and chat them up, even if he doesn’t plan on going home with them at the end of the night; it’s fun to just see how far he can push, and who’s willing to play along with him. (Nothing’s sexier than someone with a smart mouth, who can sass him right back.)

G   :   GIFT.   is your muse good at gift - giving or do they struggle to get it right?

No one would call him bad at it, but he doesn’t always...  hit the nail on the head. He tries, and will absolutely go to four different stores just to find something he knows someone’s looking for. Left to his own devices, he’ll come up with weird gifts, though. A pack of very colorful socks, an apron for a friend who can barely cook, a build-your-own-bookshelf kit for someone with no damn time. He thinks his gifts are great...  but it’s easier to just give him a list.

H   :   HEART.   is your muse quick or slow to give their heart away?

He’s quick to give it away to the right people. Bill’s got great instincts, and is good at reading someone’s character  ---  it’s what draws him to the friends he ends up keeping for life. Bill only gives his heart to those who are able to hold their own, who are worthy of it. He ain’t got time for fairweather friends. Either you earn Bill’s love, or you don’t.

I    :   I LOVE YOU.   does your muse find ‘i love you’ easy or hard to say?

Annoyingly easy. He’s not gushy about it, but he likes saying it, and it’s obvious in how often he drops it  ---  sometimes declared loudly to their assembled group of friends, but most often muttered in a low voice, for his partner’s ears alone. Why shouldn’t he love saying it? It’s true.

J   :   JEALOUSY.   does your muse get jealous in a relationship?

Bill Guarnere don’t get jealous, cause he knows exactly who he is, and exactly who the other guy’s not. His partner might play around to get him riled up  ---  and hell, he’ll do the same thing  ---  but he trusts they’d never look at anyone else seriously. Trust is a major element in Bill’s relationships, and he’d never really fall in love with someone he couldn’t have faith in.

K   :   KISS.   is your muse a good kisser? why / why not?

Bill’s exactly the sort of overconfident bastard who sees a kiss as a door to something more. He doesn’t have Prince Charming instincts, but his kisses are a team effort; he’s under no illusion about calling the shots, taking his cues from his partner how far they’ll go. If they don’t want his mouth somewhere, it’s not going there. His kisses are pure fire, electric, all teeth and tongue and shameless nips. He’s not afraid of anything. He’s also a mutterer, which depending on the partner is hot or annoying as hell. He’ll grit out words of praise or curses in between kisses, pressing them against the dark marks left on his partner’s skin, until they flush an even deeper red.

L   :   LOVE.   who does your muse love?

He loves his people. Bill considers a select group of folks his  ---  and once you’re in, there’s no easy way out, ‘cept for proving yourself a total jackass. Bill’s ride-or-die for his whole (massive) family, and his extensive friend group. Yeah, he’s got some he’d do more for than others  ---  Babe’s the only one he’d hide a body for, and he’s still got that thing Lip asked him to hold onto in his closet  --- but Bill loves fiercely, and would risk it all for any one of ‘em. 

M   :   MOONLIGHT.   is morning or night a more romantic setting?

Bold of you to assume there’s a difference between morning sex and night sex to this man. Bill’s ready to go at any time.

N   :   NAUGHTY.   what is your muse like in bed?

Extremely confident, to the point that it seems like he’s compensating for something. He’s not  ---  that’s the best part. Bill gets riled up very quickly, and in bed he is heated, driven, and very physical. He loves lifting his partner up by their thighs and moving them around the room, loves pressing them against walls and leaving deep red marks on their neck...  vocally expressive partners really get him going. He’s not shy about dirty talk, and even less shy about letting his partner take the lead. Bill’s very much of the “work together” mindset in bed. He can go multiple rounds at a time before getting worn out, but sometimes he’ll get a cramp in the middle, and then it all goes to hell (ft. the Not Sexy kind of cursing).

O   :   ODE.   does your muse have a way with words?

Bill has a commanding way of speaking; he doesn’t make a big deal outta being eloquent, but he captures people’s attention. He knows how to be listened to. Sometimes this can make it hard, in quieter moments, to express what’s really in his heart, when he’s so used to speaking only the boldest words, but...  Bill Guarnere always manages.

P   :   PARTNER.   what does your muse look for in a partner? looks / personality?

Bill needs someone who gives as good as they get. He’d never be happy with a shrinking violet; they’ve gotta have punch to them, a good sense of humor and firm head on their shoulders. He needs somebody loyal, a partner who’ll be by his side through thick and thin  ---  ‘cause even he’ll admit, he’s downright exhausting sometimes.  A person with a temper, probably; someone with confidence, who says what the hell they think. Great curves are a plus, especially a nice set of boobs. Bill’s always gonna fall for someone with fire, who can keep him on his toes, and hold him up even if he’s only got one leg to stand on.

Q   :   QUESTION.   would your muse ask the big question or expect their partner to?

Oh, he’s gonna ask. Ain’t no question, as soon as he’s got the ring, Bill Guarnere’s not wasting a second. It’s just a matter of when  (as soon as he’s 95% sure he’s gonna get a good answer) and how  (out to dinner at his favorite Italian restaurant, or maybe afterwards, taking a walk through the park. He wouldn’t want many eyes on them, but he’d want to do it somewhere special  ---  a place he and his partner could take the kids to years down the line, to boast about how it all started here.

R   :   ROMANCE.   is your muse a romantic or a cynic?

He’s no fuckin’ tights-wearing, wishing-well-singing, ‘someday my prince will come’ asshole, but sure, he’s a romantic. Bill’s got a flair for romance; he knows how to show his partner a good time, and loves doing it, just to see the warm gleam in their eyes. Dancing all by themselves, eating a candlelight dinner he made, taking a romantic bath together...  all in the Bill Guarnere playbook, sweets.

S   :   SWEETHEART.   did your muse have a childhood sweetheart?

Not really? Look, Bill had a lot going on as a kid. He was everywhere at once; all the neighbors knew him as a holy terror, and the ones with any sense told their daughters not to get near him. Romance wasn’t first on his mind.

T   :   TRUE LOVE.   does your muse believe in true love?

Absolutely. Point blank. Love is love, and some people are meant to be together forever. Anger can fuel a hell of a lot in you, but love’s more powerful than all of it. Anger can move mountains, but love can build them outta thin air.

U   :   UNREQUITED.   has your muse had their heart broken?

Nope. He’s a resilient bastard. Sure, he’s had his share of rejection (and smacks in the mouth), but Bill’s not the type to take it personally.

V   :   VALENTINE.   how does your muse feel about valentine’s day?

Well, he’s definitely never sat on the couch in his boxers eating a box of chocolate alone, and that definitely hasn’t given him a complex about giving his partner the best damn Valentine’s Day every goddamn year. (No Bill, cancel the hot air ballon, you don’t need it  ---)

W  :   WEDDING.   would your muse get married? why / why not?

Oh, hell yeah. Just give him the right person  ---  and he’ll find ‘em, don’t worry about that  ---  and Bill’s hopping on that one-way train straight to domestic bliss. He’s not in a big hurry about it, so long as his partner knows what’s what  ---  if he’s in a serious relationship with someone he really cares for, it’s a foregone conclusion to Bill that they’re gonna get married eventually. (He wouldn’t even think his partner might have a different viewpoint; if they did, it’d shock him to his core.)

X   :   XOXO.   does your muse use / like pet names?

Definitely. Some are sweet, some are perverted, and some are a little bit of both. He uses them liberally.

Y   :   YOURS.   does your muse get protective easily?

Protective could be his middle name. Bill is an incredible guy to have on your side in a rough spot; sure, he swings before he thinks, but he thinks while he’s swinging. Excellent man in a fight. No one steps in on Bill Guarnere’s loved ones and gets away scott-free, and he goes especially berserk if it’s his partner being threatened.

Z   :   ZZZ.   how many people has your muse slept with?

Not...  a number he’d be proud to admit to his Mamma, but he’s no virgin. Bill got up to more mischief overseas than he could ever find in Philly. Probably about...  8 - 9 partners? And no, he’s not careful where he sleeps. He’s gotten used to the taste of penicillin, and Doc Roe’s left a few brochures under his pillow. 

[imaginesforthosewhoseekthem]

Just imagine a normally nice MC that is pissed off. Everyone will be kinda concerned and confused bc this docile, sweet human is threatening to behead them. This something I cannot get out of my head. It’s ok if you don’t do it, but thanks for taking the time to read this :)

((I might just be on a Danganronpa binge, but I picture MC snapping like this (Spoilers for Danganronpa if you’ve never seen or played it and intend on doing so. I’ll put a gif under it if it helps prove the point better) ))

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gt_qF8SbZ_I

                         I’m gonna TRY to take this seriously, I swear XD. Only doing this with the 7 bros atm, but lemme know if you guys want the undateables in the future.

SPOILERS FOR LESSONS 1-20, MOSTLY CUSA BELPHIE’S PART. I really hope this is okay, it took me a WHILE to write. There’s probably some grammar mistakes here and there, but I will fix them overtime))

Lucifer:

Lucifer was kinda putting pressure on you with chores and tasks, barely giving you time to rest. Eventually, it just kinda made you snap at him.

“CAN’T YOU DO THIS CRAP YOURSELF?! YOU MANAGE THESE 6 IDIOTS ALL THE TIME AND YOU CAN’T DO SOMETHING LIKE A SIMPLE CHORE OR TASK?!” you snapped at him.

Welp...it was nice knowing you. Depending on the types of relationship you have with Lucifer, his punishments are either personal...or “Private” if you get my drift.

WE KNOW YOU’RE A FREAKY BITCH, LUCI!

Either way, you DEFINITELY feel like you are dead meat once you realize it was LUCIFER you snapped at. 

If the others are in the room with you, Mammon will run, Levi will livestream it, Satan and Belphegor will either be there to laugh at you or encourage you to say worse, Beel will get a snack to watch and Asmo...well he’ll probably tell Luci to try not leave a mark on your body because that’s “his job”. Basically no one is helpful here.

Unless you’re not afraid of Luci or just stupid in which case, you keep runnin your damn mouth at him over stuff that will TOTALLY hurt his Pride. If you get one of his brothers to laugh, even SNICKER at him, you are in WORSE trouble.

Bonus points added to you getting screwed over by him if Diavolo was anywhere CLOSE to hear that,

Your ass is getting dragged to his room or office and getting a talking to or a “talking to” for SEVERAL hours straight.

Luci doesn’t take shit, He i the Avatar of Pride and will not let some human taint it.

Not gonna lie though...you DID catch him off guard and he did kinda ease up on the work because even though he’s way stronger than you, he does NOT wanna see you like that ever again

 Mammon:

Oh, he did it again. He got both of you in trouble. You snapped cus this was the third time in a row that week. Mammon’s making his stupid excuses and it just..unloaded onto him.

“WELL MAYBE IF YOU WEREN’T SUCH A SCUMBAG, WE WOULDN'T GET INTO SO MUCH TROUBLE!” you barked at him.

He. Was. Stunned. 

If you’re Lucifer levels of angry, he might even be a little scared of you. 

For a moment to defend himself, he may switch to how he was when you two first met.

“O-Oh yeah?! Who are you, a weak, feeble HUMAN to tell the Great Mammon what he is and isn’t?! I could crush ya right now if I wanted to!”

He’s bluffing so much even humans that WEREN’T there could see it.

“Oh, you know what? YA KNOW WHAT?! That is it! I am not even gonna speak to you til you are BEGGIN’ me to forgive ya!”

Yep, he’s really doing this. Obviously, you don’t care because you’re not the one that should be apologizing here.

The other 6 are actually pretty happy with this transaction. Finally, some silence from Mammon’s ever yapping pie-hole. He’s sitting there with a pout on his lip and slumped. He’s not going to say how sorry you’ll be in front of his brothers because he said HE wasn’t talking to YOU. So he doesn’t need it rubbed in his face.

Of course, being the Avatar of Greed, he’s up to his Greedy ways, so he’ll make whatever excuse he can to get his brothers away from you.

Not even a day has passed and he comes up saying he “forgives you for getting mad at him”. But if you still look upset with him, he does legit feel bad and apologizes...the MAMMON way lol.

“Well...I GUESS if it bugs you that much, I could keep outta trouble...Just for a little while, though! I ain't some softie! I’m too much of an awesome rebel for that~!” he said, trying so much to impress you with his “Bad Boy” attitude.

Deep down, he just doesn’t want to make his human mad at him again.

 Leviathan:

((Sorry if the reason isn't great, but this baby boy is too cute to have a reason to be mad at, I’m sorry! If Levi stans hate this, you have permission to slap me. I deserve it XD))

Levi had kept dragging you to play games with him and watch anime, but you had studying to do.

Whenever you tried to tell him you had to go study, he did this thing where he would use the “Studying is probably better than hanging out with a lame otaku like me” speech to get you to cave in.

You didn't realize it, but you only had a few days left to study and you were STRESSED.

Levi was about to use the same speech on you again when you finally had had enough.

“LEVI! I HAVE SPENT SO MUCH TIME WITH YOU, IT COULD ACTUALLY COST ME FROM GETTING A GOOD GRADE! CAN YOU PLEASE PULL YOUR HEAD OUT OF YOUR ANIME AND VIDEO GAMES AND DO SOMETHING THAT DOESN'T RISK OTHER PEOPLE FAILING AT LIFE!“ you blurted. You regretted saying some of that, but it was too little too late. 

Levi was hurt his best friend would say all of that to him. You could see him fighting back tears. 

“F-Fine..! Whatever! I can just find s-someone else to play with me..!” he said, choking n his words. “J-Just get outta my room, already!”

You tried to apologize for snapping, but he wasn’t having it, at least not right now. 

You would make it up to him after you finished studying and taking your test.

Levi spent the next few days being somewhat passive-aggressive towards you, spending more time with Mammon or Henry 2.0 (his goldfish) just to spite you. However, you were too busy catching up on the studying you missed out on to notice.

Eventually, he was ready to go give you a piece of his mind when he saw...you were asleep at your desk and surrounded by books. It kinda made him realize how much he really made you miss out on and he felt pretty bad.

The next morning, you woke up to a text from Lucifer that said he pulled some strings to get you more time to study and have your date for the test slightly later than the others. You also had Levi’s jacket wrapped around your shoulders.

You definitely bought him some new games and figures as a way to apologize for yelling at him and you two made up.

Rest assured, Levi listens to you way more after that. You being mad at him is upsetting and kinda scary to him.

Satan:

Satan was being a typical cynical smartass and talking about what tricks he’ll attempt on Lucifer today.

The past THREE times you, he and Belphie tried to pull pranks on Lucifer, you were one step ahead and you just DID not have the energy for it anymore.

“Hey Satan..~” you say sweetly to lure him in.

“Mmm?” he asked, distractedly.

“Shut...the F**K up!” you snapped, irritated at him.

Now...There are really two ways the Avatar or Wrath can take being told to shut up, let alone to shut the f up. 

If you are LUCKY...Satan will laugh it off with an amused chuckle that you’re trying to intimidate him

Your luck runs out of you try and elaborate on that WHILE he’s laughing.

“IF YOU’RE SUPPOSED TO BE THE SMARTEST BROTHER, HOW DO YOU HAVE SUCH IDIOTIC IDEAS?!”

You’re dead. You’ve dug your own grave and you are DEAD. He’ll PROBABLY grab you by the throat if that REALLY pissed him off.

“What the F**K...did you just say to me you weak, breakable little twerp?” he asks in that calm, serial killer like tone that let’s you know you’re dead meat.

That’s when you run, you knock some books in his path and you run!

You don’t stop running until you find Lucifer to make Satan calm the hell down.

It’s probably best if you two don’t talk to one another for a few days.

Satan is secretly shocked and upset his image of you being the innocent one is shattered...for like, a SECOND. That is until he realizes...he LIKES to see you angry...and he WILL use this newfound enjoyment against you.

You go to apologize, but he yanks you in, pins you to the wall like he’s going to hurt you...but smirks and says in his most smarmy and CONDESCENDING tone.

“You’re even cuter when you’re mad~ I won’t hurt you over this...at least not in the way I had intended~” he teases before pecking your nose and walking away like the tease he is.

He could be such a bitch sometimes.

 Asmodeus:

You were honestly pretty jealous of the people who Asmo had been flirting with. To the point it was really starting to irritate you. Especially if he spoke about how cute OTHER people were while you were there.

When he got to talking about something hot someone else has that you are self conscious over…you just lost it.

“MAYBE IF YOU STARTED THINKING WITH THE HEAD ON YOUR SHOULDERS, YOU’RE VAIN DUMBASS COULD FOCUS ON YOUR STUDIES!” you hissed.

Asmo blinked at you, shocked you would even WANT to shriek at someone as beautiful as him. After thinking it over for a second, not even looking offended, just surprised, he grew a small smirk.

You see, kids, if events have taught us anything, it’s that you can’t get angry at Asmo…cus his horny-ass just thinks you’re being forceful or aggressive and he enjoys it.

“My, my~ This is an INTERESTING change of pace, (Y/N). I sense that someone is jealous over my attention being away from them~! Of course, it’s not like I blame you~! I’m so beautiful, ANYONE would fight over me~” he bragged.

You were just so done with his nonsense, you were about to leave, but you felt him grab your wrist all of a sudden. He tugged you close and stroked your chin with a sly smirk.

“That being said, I think I LIKE seeing you raise your voice at me~ Do it some more, (Y/N)~ Pretty please~❤”

Yep, you were gone. You couldn’t with his flirty shit right now. You were still mad, you just had the deepest blush across your cheeks.

Asmo kept trying to make you jealous so you would bark at him. You opened a new kink for him to say the least.

You know what DID end up getting to him though? When you looked the person he was flirting with dead in the eye and said “You can have him..” like you were giving away something you didn’t even want.

THAT’S when he got offended. He was maaaaaaaad.

“(Y/N)! How could you SAY such a thing?! Do you not want me or something?!” he asked, pouting up a storm.

Well, you wanted to get a reaction out of him, you just didn’t expect it to go like THAT.

He tries to give you the cold shoulder, but he wants your attention too much to keep it up, so he eventually sits beside you with a pout on his lips and his arms folded.

“I’m willing to apologize for flirting with other demons...but only if you apologize for that comment earlier.” He said

You eventually do apologize, cus even if you love him, a whiny Asmo can get emotionally tiring. You promise him you mean every word of apology…and then he tackles you with hugs and kisses.

You may or may not regret apologize just for that alone, but at least he’s happy.

Beezlebub:

Beel ate something you were saving for later. Usually he wouldn’t because he would want to eat something like that WITH you since it was yours. Sometimes it wasn’t even that big of a deal to you because you could just get more. ((I know all the foodies in the audience are looking at me funny for writing that. Look guys, unless it’s something I haven’t had in a while, I don’t personally care if someone eats my food.))

 But this time it was different. It was a special treat someone close to you had brought just for you before you got to the Devildom. Maybe even they last time you’d see them for a long time, not just the year you were in the Devildom. It’s not the last time you see them ever because it’s not gonna be THAT depressing guys.

You had written your name and everything on it, but Beel was in his hungry stages…like CLOSE to demon form stages.

You saw the carnage left over from this special treat. Beel was JUST apologize when you snapped.

“TURNING INTO A DEMON PUT YOUR BRAIN IN YOUR STOMACH, DIDN’T IT?!” you snapped. Beel was like…legit surprised to see this coming from YOU of all people. You were such a small, sweet little human the rest of the time and here you were, yelling at him.

Yelling at Beel definitely caused some instant regret, because the boy couldn’t help himself. Now YOU were about to apologize when Beel interrupted.

“I-I’m so sorry (Y/N). I didn’t realize how much it meant to you. I should have gotten one of my brothers to call you…o-or told you on my D.D.D so we could’ve…I’m sorry.” He said, frowning. “I promise, I’ll make up for this…I’ll go to the human world and get the person who made it if I have to.” He said, leaving you alone.

Well you sure felt like a jackass now. Yeah, out of all the brothers, Beel is probably the most understanding, so you legit feel like an ass after yelling at him. You texted and said your apology over and over to him, but he either wouldn’t reply because he was trying to re-create it or insisting it was hit fault.

Belphie is pretty pissed you yelled at Beel like that, but you did tell him you didn’t mean for it to slip out and explain the situation.

He doesn’t get the sentimental value like you or Beel do, but he soon gets you really ARE sorry and leaves you alone about it.

Beel eventually calls you over and he made a BUNCH of the food he ate on you. Some he got his brothers or Barbados to help him with, but a lot were made by him.

This freaking teddy bear of a demon worked his wings off to make it up to you. Of COURSE you two forgive each other.

The flavor probably isn’t EXACTLY like the one he ate on you, but you felt the love put into it none the less and you at least have a new fond memory of that food. You may need help eating it all though.

The whole house eats that dish for a while. You even get Solomon, the angels and even Diavolo to help clean out the supply.

Beel’s more than happy to help though. It’s also just as well you won’t see the person who gave you the original for a while. You get sick of it pretty quick…but seeing Beel smile over it does help bring enjoyment back to the flavor.

 Belphegor:

It was either like Satan where he got you in trouble with Lucifer or he slept in and missed out on something important. Either way, you were fed up with Belphie showing up late to things or not showing up at all

As soon as he woke up, he just gave you an innocent looking, bus clearly condescending smile, much like when he used to lie to your face. You sure let him have it in the middle of his smart ass tone.

“WITH HOW IRRESPONSIBLE YOU ARE, I WISH I COULD SLEEP RIGHT THROUGH ALL YOUR BULLS**T!” you barked at him all of a sudden.

Now kinda like Satan, at first Belphie’s response to this is to get angry right away. His face gradually lowers and he kinda towers over you like he’s trying to intimidate you and, if you remember what he did in another timeline, it kinda works to a degree.

“The hell did you just say to me? I killed you once, I’ll do it again if I wanted to.” He was hoping to catch you off guard and laugh at you once you got scared of him, but you were still just so mad at him, you were ready to call his bluff.

“YEAH?! BIG MAN?! GO ON! DO IT! GIVE LUCI ANOTHER REASON TO LOCK YOU IN THE F**KIN ATTIC!” you yelled, pushing him.

Okay, THAT was a scorcher tho! That knocked the damn wind out of him. He knew for a FACT, you would never bring him being in the attic into this, so he KNEW he had legit pissed you right off. He just kinda took a step back in surprise.

“Okay, damn…I wasn’t being serious.” He said, picking up his pillow and walking away, shaking his head slightly. “You humans are so sensitive at times.

Out of all the brothers, as surprised as he is by your outburst, he probably cares the least. You know how he is with Lucifer, so he’ll likely use this as a means to push your buttons too.

You don’t want to talk to him, but he will STILL give you a smarmy “Are you done being a child yet?” JUST to get on your nerves.

Beel can see that it’s not just putting a damper on your mood, but Belphie’s too, because as much as he wants to uphold how much of a smartass he is, he’s finding it harder to take naps knowing he upset you.

The twins talk it out and Belphie admits defeat, waiting til you’re alone in your room to go see you. He says nothing, comes in and sits on your bed, gesturing you sit beside him and resting his head on your lap.

“I’m sorry I kept pushing you…I didn’t realize how much I actually upset you and I’ll try not to sleep in as much if it’s for you..” he said softly.

You stroked his hair slowly and kissed his forehead. “I’m sorry I yelled at you..the attic thing was too far.” You said.

Belphie smiled and wrapped his arms around you, keeping you in place. “You can make it up to me by letting me sleep on you.

He did actually make better effort into showing up and it only cost more naps while holding you, so best make sure you don’t have anywhere to be for the next few hours. Belphie will lock you in place.

[desiringparadise]

Hi, I know this gonna sound weird but I'm here thanks to A03, I read "It's A Terrible Love And I'm Walking With Spiders" again (idk why), Let me tell you something: It's fantastic. But I realized that you haven't update for four or five years, well I'm not gonna ask you to do it, that's in you, but I'd like to ask something, could you tell me what was the plan with tha fic, and how will it end, just a summary because I'm dying in my curiosity, well only few words left, so thanks and be careful

Omgggg thank you!!! It isn’t weird at all, I sometimes re-read old unfinished fics too because they stuck with me for some odd reason. I was at a bad mental space when I wrote this story and I feel like my issues manifested in the atmosphere of the story. Maybe readers can relate to some of it?

As to how the story was supposed to end. I didn’t remember and I actually had to look through my old notebook lol. I actually found the unfinished fifth chapter in my folders, so I’ll post it here.

Keep in mind that I wrote this in November 2016 and I never finished editing it. I didn’t post it because I was unsatisfied with the result. I’d rate it T/M.

Chapter 5

Miserable, Stiles focused on the silhouette of naked feet, his eyes never straying any higher. Luckily, the shower glass was milky, so even if he couldn’t have resisted satisfying his own curiosity, he wouldn’t actually have seen much.

After the Sheriff had left, Theo had asked to take a shower. Stiles had let him under the condition that the door would remain open and Theo under Stiles’ scrutiny. Under no circumstances would he have let the other boy roam around in his house without checking what he was up to. There were meds in the cupboard, something he wouldn’t risk leaving him alone with.

Unsurprisingly, Theo hadn’t objected. “Be my guest,” he’d said instead, an extra smarmy grin on his face.

That’s why Stiles was sitting against the wall, knees drawn to his chest while trying not to fall asleep. The sound of water spraying had become lulling white noise, making it hard to keep his eyes open. Maybe he should take some Adderall to shake off the drowsiness. It wasn’t like he would get any sleep tonight anyway. Not while knowing that Theo Raeken was under the same roof as him.

He was pulled out of his thoughts when the spray of water stopped, the shower door opened, and Theo stepped out without an ounce of hesitation. You’d think he’d at least pretend to be a little embarrassed about showing his naked body.

Not that Theo should be ashamed, Stiles realized. He had known before that the other boy was built, but the naked view of him - well, he couldn’t lie, it was a sight to behold. Perfect, unreal. The shoulders, the arms, the chest – everything about him was broad without being too bulky. His flawless skin only added to the look of a retouched Men’s Health cover shoot. Stiles felt entranced to follow his abs, down to the wonderfully defined V of his hips, before stopping himself. Yeah, he had just seen Theo’s dick, it had been kinda inevitable, but there was no reason to scrutinize it any further. None.

Quickly, he moved his gaze up to look at Theo’s face instead, the usual smirk somehow looking even more smarmy than usual.

“Like what you see?”

The question was so cliché, just like this whole goddamn scenario, that Stiles felt the desperate need to break the spell.

“I prefer chest hair.”

For the first time since Theo had arrived in Beacon Hills, he was dumbfounded. It left Stiles feeling satisfied, before his face froze, his heartbeat quickening. Did he just seriously tell Theo that he was interested in men? He resisted the urge to smack his palm against his face.

Theo did the unexpected and actually came up with an answer.

“I could let it grow, if you wanted me to.”

Stiles squinted. “What the hell would you do that for?”

Theo shrugged his broad shoulder, still unperturbed by his own nudity. “Just trying to win you over, that’s all.”

Stiles rolled his eyes, finally rising up and to look at Theo’s face and ignore everything that was going on below. “Well, your lack of chest hair wasn’t the deciding factor that kept me on the other side. Why don’t you put on a towel?”

“Don’t have one,” Theo answered with an innocent smile.

Stiles sighed and motioned for the other boy to follow as he walked to his room. When he opened the door, he felt uncomfortable letting a naked Theo into his personal space. Hurriedly, he drew the curtains and searched for a large towel in the cupboard. When he found one, he threw it over to Theo without sparing him another look.

“Can you borrow me some clothes?”

Stiles was inclined to say no, let Theo sleep in his uncomfortable jeans instead. There was something strange about giving Theo his clothes to wear. But he wasn’t sure when his father would return from the station. When the man arrived, he would go through the living room and see Theo who’d be sleeping on the coach.

He sighed and searched his closet for something that’d fit. Theo wasn’t taller, but much broader than him. (Un)fortunately, Stiles usually wore clothes that were a few sizes too big anyway. He found some sweats. He was painfully reminded that Theo wouldn’t be wearing underwear underneath. No way he’d be wearing those pants before washing them at least five times.

“Long or short sleeves?”

“Don’t need a shirt.”

Stiles frowned, pulling his too long sleeves even further down. “It’s freezing.”

Theo grinned. “I’m running hot. Want to see it for yourself?”

Stiles rolled his eyes and walked past him. “Whatever, I’ll be fixing you the coach.”

Theo followed him in an easy stride. He didn’t even seem a little uncomfortable to casually stroll through a stranger’s home without a shirt on. Completely relaxed, he sunk into the coach and watched Stiles as he spread clean sheets over the sofa.

“Do your parents know you’re staying over?” Stiles couldn’t even remember the Raekens’ faces anymore.

“Sent them a text.”

Stiles nodded, too tired to investigate any further.

.

Except he was unable to fall asleep. For about roughly an hour he had been tossing and turning, his anxiety back at it again although he had forewent his Adderall. Then, for a couple of minutes, he stayed still, not moving a muscle while waiting to hear any sounds come from downstairs.

But there was only silence.

About half an hour ago, his eyes started tearing up from exhaustion. It was annoying. He wasn’t really crying, but the stream of tears didn’t stop. Now his eyes were swollen and aching.

He was unable to come to rest. He took a deep breath. Maybe if he’d open the door and take a proper listen, he’d finally relax. Feeling ridiculous, left the warmth of his bed and softly padded towards his door. But he was only met with frustratingly familiar silence.

He sighed and returned to bed when- Wait, was that a sound? He froze and listened, eyes wide open as if waiting for an assault. Looking down, he noticed that he had stepped on a creaking floor board. The noise could have come from him. But what if it hadn’t?

He shook his head. He was being paranoid, utterly ridiculous… Yet, what if there had been something? He took a deep breath and held it, wanting his heart beat to slow. Okay, he’d go outside again, just this once, and take a look around house, and most importantly, check whether Theo was doing something sketchy.

He left his room, slowly descending the stairs. From here, Theo’s form was still, he seemed to be sleeping. Just to be sure, he told himself as he gradually closed the distance between them. He stopped just before the sofa and leaned down to inspect his face. His eyes were closed and his breathing was calm. Everything about him indicated to be asleep.

But the ugly voice of his paranoia ordered him to look more closely, check whether Theo wasn’t faking it.

Suddenly Theo’s eyes were wide open, an unnatural light shining in them. Stiles startled. He stumbled backwards, his feet hit agianst the coffee table, and he fell on his ass.

“Stiles?” Theo blinked, the strange light in his eyes gone. Had he imagined it? He must have, there was no other explanation for it. He was going crazy. “Why are you up? Did something happen?” His voice was groggy from asleep, but otherwise he seemed alert.

Stiles felt ridiculous. His thought process hadn’t made any sense to begin with, spoken out loud, they’d sound like he’d lost his mind. This paranoia, it wasn’t normal. He liked to tell himself that it was the Adderall, the ADHD, but when he was honest with himself, he knew it was him. He was fucking crazy. No wonder he didn’t have any friends, no wonder Erica had ditched him the first chance she got. He wouldn’t be his own friend either. There was nothing to gain from this cynical, insecure, anxious mess that he was.

His uneven breath catch in his throat, the last drop for his straying nerves. His mind collapsed in itself and he pathetically started to cry.

If Theo hadn’t been awake then, he probably was now. He stumbled out of the sheets and approached Stiles, putting both hands on his shoulders. His eyes were wide with concern. “Hey- hey, Stiles, come on. What happened? Did you hurt yourself?”

Stiles shook his head, his chest heaving with sobs. He was such a goddamn mess. The more he wanted to force himself to calm down, the more he worked himself up. The rational part of his mind told him that this wouldn’t pass until he calmed down. But he was too upset and Theo’s presence made everything worse. He wanted to crawl into a hole and wait till the panic was over.

But he knew that wasn’t possible. “I can’t sleep,” he managed to ground out between the ugly sniffing and sobbing.

“Did you have a nightmare?”

Stiles snorted, as if Theo’s suggestion had been completely ridiculous. Actually, it wasn’t that far off the truth though. He had nightmares, more often so recently. To some of them he woke up silently, heavily breathing, the panic constrained in his chest, but without a sound. Sometimes he screamed. But only his father knew that.

“No. I just – I can’t sleep with you here, not knowing what you’re doing.”

He expected Theo to be confused, demand an explanation, maybe even laugh. Instead he said, “I could go.”

“What?” He shook his head. “No.” How would he explain that to his father? He wouldn’t be able to stand another discussion with him about seeing a professional about his problems. Yes, he had problems, he knew that – but none some shrink could help him with. The only thing he had going for him was that he wasn’t labeled crazy by the public yet. “You’re staying,” he said with finality.

For a while, there was silence. Theo must be put off by Stiles acting like a freaking lunatic. Any normal person would’ve left by now. Hell, he would’ve ran out the house if the roles were reversed. Instead Theo asked, “Do you have any handcuffs?”

For a few seconds, Stiles didn’t say a word. But when he had finally gathered himself- “What the fuck?”

“Real ones,” the other boy recuperated nonchalantly.

“Why in the hell would you-“

“Because, obviously, I’m kinky, if you haven’t guessed it by now,” Theo answered rolling his eyes. Stiles wasn’t sure whether that had been a joke. “”You wanna sleep or what? Go get me some handcuffs.”

Normally, he wouldn’t have obeyed simply on principle, but he was curious where this would go. And as he rummaged through the drawer, where he knew his father kept a spare pair of handcuffs, he realized that the suffocating panic in his chest was gone.

“Now I’ll go outside and you hide the keys somewhere,” Theo ordered. Stiles wanted to question him, but before he could, Theo had already left the house, still shirtless in the cold night. Not knowing what else to do, Stiles went up to his room and hid the little key in his pill bottle.

When he opened the door for Theo to enter, he didn’t seem affected by the freezing weather. There weren’t even any goosebumps on his skin.

“All done?” Theo asked, the blue-green eyes open and honest. Stiles nodded.

Unceremoniously, Theo cuffed his own wrists together.

Stiles stared. “Okay… What is this about?”

The boy shook his wrist, the metal of the cuffs making clinking sounds. “See? I won’t be able to do much without you hearing. No need to worry about what I’m doing. So are we taking the bed or the couch?”

Stiles should be horrified, but frankly, the plan made sense. It could actually work. And really? It was some crazy shit that he would’ve come up with. The sort of solution that people would raise their brows at but that would actually work. “How do I know you won’t do anything to me while I sleep?”

Theo rolled his eyes. “Stiles, no offense, but if I wanted to harm you, I wouldn’t have to wait until you’re asleep. You’re not exactly what I’d call a physical challenge.”

Fair enough...

“There is no way we’d fit on the couch.”

.

Stiles had ordered Theo to lay on the side of the bed that faced the wall so that there would be no chance of leaving the bed without alerting Stiles. Theo was happy to lie on his side and watch the other boy’s peaceful face. For once, his breathing was even, but he was still twitching and moving in his sleep, restless, even in his most relaxed moments.

When they had first lain down, Theo had feigned sleep. He knew that Stiles wouldn’t have been able to calm down if Theo had openly watched him. Now though, he stare at him to his heart’s content. He’d watched Stiles without his knowledge before. There were some perfect angles from the outside from which you could see Stiles rummaging in the kitchen. Sometimes he forgot to draw the curtains and Theo could catch glimpses of his sleeping form.

But in never had been like this. Stiles, only an arm’s length away, the ever-present scent of anxiousness enveloping him.

He mumbled something in his sleep, tossed and turned and eventually scooted closer to Theo. It probably was due to Stiles’ weird sleeping positions and the unconscious urge to scoot towards warmth, but nonetheless, Thep was elated when the boy’s head almost touched his chest. He could feel his breath on his naked skin.

Theo wondered whether he could get away with stroking his hair, just running his fingers through the dark hair for once, but he refrained. He still was desperately trying to get Stiles to trust him.

At first glance, Stiles seemed like easy prey. He was isolated and defenseless. He should’ve soaked up all of Theo’s affections and begged for more. But Theo had underestimated him vastly. Stiles wasn’t playing hard to get, he simply was too smart to fall for something as simple as charm.

It only made Theo want him even more. Stiles would be the perfect person to stand by his side. Clever, loyal, and absolutely ruthless.

But he had to get Stiles to trust him first. The boy couldn’t see it yet, but once all circumstances molded to Theo’s wishes, Stiles would find himself in a much happier place. Theo just had to give him a nudge into the right direction and make him realize how much of a glorious team they could be under Theo’s rule.

His father was the only important person in Stile’s life. Eventually, Theo would insert himself as a part of his life. Stiles was his centre already, now he had to make himself Stiles’ centre.

.

This is were this document ended. I think I planned to end this chapter at this point. I hadn’t planned the future chapters in every detail, but here’s how I planned for the story to roughly go:

Stiles and Theo were supposed to get closer, Theo eventually gaining Stiles’ trust and helping him over his issues with anxiety. They’d slowly become friends, but their relationship would always have a sexual undertone because it’d always been clear that Theo wanted to be more than friends. The sexual tension would escalate and they’d hook up and become an official item.

They would share a toxic dynamic. While Theo is devoted to Stiles, he’s also extremely controlling and possessive. He would watch Stiles, trying to keep constant tabs on what he was doing, going through his phone, getting pissed when Stiles was acting friendly with anyone. They would have big fights over this in which Theo would tell Stiles that he cares too much for him to just let him be.

While Stiles would know that this is an extremely unhealthy relationship that can’t end well, some part of him (the part that had been ignored by the people around him for all his life and was starving for a semblance of affection) loved that he was this important to Theo. And while his relationship was anything but normal, he liked that he got to experience something as normal as having a boyfriend, something he’d never envisioned before.

So they’d have fights, Theo would apologize with some grand gesture, and Stiles wouldn’t be able to stay mad (because some part of him wasn’t actually mad at all). This pattern would repeat itself.

Meanwhile, Scott and his friends would try to make Stiles see reason. By now, they would’ve noticed Theo’s and Stiles’ dynamic because of how explosive Theo can get in public once his jealousy is triggered. Stiles, however, can’t stand Scott and his friends to begin with. He thinks that nobody but his father and Theo, in his own twisted way, cares about him and that they’re only trying to provoke Theo through Stiles.

I don’t think the whole Dread-Doctors thing had been all the way revealed when I was plotting this, so they wouldn’t have been included in this story. But eventually, some danger would befall Beacon Hills again. Amidst everything, everyone’s supernatural identity would be revealed to Stiles. He’d feel vindicated to have his suspicions finally confirmed. He and Theo would work together on overcoming whatever enemy they’d be facing off against. 

At some point during all of this, Theo’s behaviour would escalate and would cause something disastrous to happen. Someone would be killed. Stiles can finally no longer ignore Theo’s issues as he fights his desire to stay with Theo against his morals. He’d tell Theo that they needed a break.

Theo would beg him not to break it off, promise to change, and confess his love. Though Stiles would know that Theo wouldn’t really change because of the numerous times he’s promised before, he’d be too moved by Theo’s confession to resist. Eventually, he’d decide be selfish and put his own wants before the needs of others. He’d decide that he’d rather have his toxic, obsessive, passionate relationship with Theo, than to return to the bleak void that he was in before Theo entered his life.

Eventually, they’d graduate and move away to live in some big city like L.A. or NYC. 

The End.

[medablvck]

cis female / she + her. ┊ if you’re looking for ANDROMEDA BLACK, you’ll probably find HER in the SLYTHERIN dorm with the rest of the SIXTH years. they’re the TWENTY year old PUREBLOOD who looks kind of like KATIE DOUGLAS. they seem INQUISITIVE, SELF-RELIANT & ANALYTICAL to me, but apparently they’re also CYNICAL, INTROSPECTIVE & TACTLESS. maybe that’s why they remind me of rain on dark windowpanes, the heavy sweetness of red wine, ink-stained fingers. dark curls escaping from pins, burnt out matches from a guilty cigarette, and looking your mother in the eyes when you lie.

CHARACTER  INSPO  INCLUDES:  fitzwilliam  darcy  (  pride  and  prejudice  ),  huntress  (  birds  of  prey  ),  mei  (  a:tla  )

PRE-HOGWARTS  !!

andromeda  &  her  mother  have  what  u  can  call  a  strained  relationship.  from  her  moment  of  birth,  druella  saw  everything  andromeda  did  as  an  act  of  rebellion,  whether  it  was  a  childish  question  asked  in  the  wrong  place  at  the  wrong  time,  or  getting  so  absorbed  in  a  book  she  forgot  to  come  down  for  dinner,  or  a  bit  of  accidental  wandless  magic  born  out  of  a  moment  of  frustration.  every  day  was  a  trial  against  andromeda,  with  her  parents  acting  as  the  judge,  jury  and  executioner,  &  over  and  over  again  she  was  found  guilty.

andromeda  never  meant  to  defy  her  mother,  at  first,  but  no  matter  how  hard  she  tried  to  please  druella,  nothing  she  ever  did  was  quite  good  enough.  there  was  always  some  fault,  whether  it  was  a  lock  of  hair  tumbling  free  from  its  pin,  a  corset  come  unlaced,  posture  ruined  from  hunching  over  a  book.  her  wrists  were  too  bony,  her  lips  were  too  thin,  her  skin  too  easily  flushed.

[  ABUSE  TW  ]   it  didn’t  escape  andromeda’s  notice  that  every  flaw  her  mother  criticized  was  one  druella  shared  as  well,  and  when  she  grew  older  she  realized  her  mother’s  dissatisfaction  with  andromeda  was  merely  a  product  of  her  own  dissatisfaction  with  herself.  but  that  didn’t  feed  her  the  nights  she  was  denied  dinner  for  her  ‘ misbehaviour ’.  it  didn’t  take  back  the  days  andromeda  went  unable  to  speak  thanks  to  a  punitive  silencio,  and  it  didn’t  grant  andromeda’s  wish  to  have  a  real  mother  who  loved  her. [  END  TW  ]

did  druella  love  her  children  ?who  knows.  maybe  she  did,  in  her  own  twisted  way.  but   druella  was  first  and  foremost  a  business  woman,  and  her  main  trade  was  her  daughters.  andromeda  grew  up  listening  to  endless  warnings  that  her  mother  would  “ never  be  able  to  find  andromeda  a  husband  if  … ”  and  then  came  whichever  grievance  she’d  chosen  to  focus  on  that  day.

it  cannot  come  as  a  surprise  that  andromeda  learned  to  live  in  the  shadows,  away  from  her  mother’s  disapproving  glare;  that  she  learned  to  rely  on  herself  and  herself  only,  that  she  learned  to  watch  &  observe  &  test  the  waters,  to  think  before  acting.  (  of  course,  druella  did  not  approve  of  this  either,  and  informed  andromeda  that  no  man  would  want  a  girl  who  was  so  serious  all  the  time.  )

her  parents  often  dragged  her  and  her  sisters  to  various  pureblood  functions,  where  andromeda  stood  off  to  the  side  in  uncomfortably  starched  dresses,  disappearing  like  smoke  any  time  someone  looked  like  they  were  heading  over  to  strike  up  conversation.  she  would  explore  the  pureblood  manors,  all  silent  footsteps  &  watchful  eyes,  making  observations  on  how  the  wizarding  world’s  elite  lived  their  lives,  noting  separate  beds  in  the  master  bedrooms  &  half-empty  whiskey  bottles  in  the  washrooms.  it  seemed  like  everyone  was  only  looking  out  for  themselves  in  this  world,  trying  to  further  their  own  social  status  and  wealth.

at  home,  she  would  escape  to  the  roof  with  a  book,  whether  it  was  a  history  of  warlocks  or  the  kind  of  torrid  romance  novel  druella  pretended  she  didn’t  read,  dark  eyes  hardly  looking  up  as  the  sun  sank  lower  in  the  sky,  fingers  blackened  with  ink  by  the  time  she  closed  her  book  and  descended  into  the  house  to  face  her  mother’s  wrath  that  she  missed  her  piano  lessons.

is  it  strange  that  such  a  cynical  girl  could  have  such  a  yearning  for  beautiful  things  ?  or  would  that  merely  be  a  side  effect  of  cynicism,  to  long  for  something  to  thaw  a  hardened  heart  ?  andromeda  loved  beautiful  things,  perhaps  a  bit  too  much,  but  she  did  not  trust  them.  nothing  beautiful  was  made  to  last,  and  if  it  was,  it  wasn’t  truly  beautiful.  sunsets  faded  to  darkness,  books  ended,  lovers  grew  apart.  the  inherent  transience  of  beauty  made  andromeda  crave  it  all  the  more.  

HOGWARTS  !!

hogwarts  was  a  breath  of  fresh  air  for  andromeda,  the  chance  to  experience  life  outside  her  parents’  regime.  to  her  inquisitive,  probing  nature,  an  ancient,  magical  castle  full  of  history  &  secrets  was  paradise,  let  alone  all  the  classes  it  housed.  and  the  people  —  andromeda  had  never  seen  so  many  people  in  her  lifetime.  hundreds  &  hundreds  of  students  filled  the  castle,  all  with  their  own  thoughts  and  lives  and  desires.  

an  introvert  by  nature,  she  didn’t  interact,  merely  observed.  she  made  best  friends  with  the  library  &  the  constellations,  sneaking  out  of  the  dorm  to  sit  with  her  legs  dangling  over  the  fifty-foot  drop  of  the  astronomy  tower,  eyes  finding  her  constellation,  andromeda,  and  wondering  if  her  fate  was  written  in  the  stars  too;  drunk  on  the  beauty  of  an  untamed  scottish  night.

the  unidentifiable  yearning  she’d  always  kept  tucked  inside  a  corner  of  her  heart  ballooned  until  she  could  hardly  stand  it.  it  was  a  yearning  to  be  something  more than  the  perfect  pureblood  wife  her mother  was  trying  to  groom  her  to  be,  a  thirst  to  prove  herself  in  some  way  she  didn’t  even  understand  yet,  and  it  was  this  ambition  &  drive  that  got  her  sorted  into  slytherin.

if  druella  &  cygnus  had  thought  andromeda  was  unmanageable  before  hogwarts ,  when  she  wasn’t  even  trying  to  be,  she  was  downright  wild  when  she  returned  for  winter  break  in  first  year.  now  that  she  knew  life  could  be  better  than  what  she  was  currently  living  at  home,  she  buzzed  with  a  restless  energy  that  alarmed  her  parents.  andromeda  may  have  been  troublesome  before,  but  this  was  bordering  on  dangerous.  druella  made  the  decision  that  andromeda  would  not  be  returning  to  hogwarts.  [  ABUSE  TW  ]  this  sparked  one  of  the  worst  fights  they’d  ever  had,  and  culminated  in  a  rare  but  unforgiving  physical  beating.  [  END  TW  ]  

eventually  druella  conceded,  and  andromeda  was  allowed  to  return,  but  she  was  much  more  cautious  now.  she  only  made  friends  who  her  parents  would  approve  of,  she  kept  her  nose  clean,  and  at  home,  she  played  the  part  of  the  dutiful  daughter.  there  were  still  small  rebellions,  though  —  long  curls  cut  short  with  a  silver  flash  of  the  kitchen  scissors;  a  nicked  pack  of  her  father’s  cigarettes  smoked  cross-legged  on  the  roof,  coughing  into  her  fist  so  nobody  would  hear.  as  she  got  older,  she  paired  the  cigarettes  &  book  with  red  wine ,  the  finest  she  dared  steal  without  risk  of  being  caught.  this  was  her  escape,  her  small  patch  of  beauty  in  an  ugly  world.

andromeda  keeps  to  herself  at  hogwarts  as  much  as  she  can.  the  only  people  she  spent  time  with  were  those  her  parents  approved  of,  and  she  didn’t  like  most  of  them.  she  threw  herself  into  her  schoolwork  instead,  easily  landing  herself  a  spot  among  the  top  students.  

but  she  loves  hogwarts,  loves  it  with  all  her  heart,  as  so  many  abused  children  do  –  it’s  a  safe  haven,  a  place  where  she  can  at  least  pretend  she’s  free.  she  loves  learning  everything  that  she  can  (  in  fact,  she  was  very  nearly  sorted  into  ravenclaw  ).  her  favourite  place  to  be  is  the  astronomy  tower,  and  she  still  escapes  there  whenever  she’s  feeling  a  bit  too  claustrophobic.

she  was  chosen  to  be  a  slytherin  prefect  for  her  year  and  although  she  thought  she  wouldn’t  like  it,  she’s  grown  to  enjoy  the  position.  not  for  the  power  it  gives  her  over  her  fellow  students,  but  for  the  escape  it  brings.  she  can  associate  with  people  she  would  normally  never  talk  to,  and  roam  the  castle  freely  past  curfew.  and  andromeda  isn’t  a  naturally  nurturing  person,  but  she’s  found  that  she  enjoys  talking  to  and  helping  the  younger  years.  she  sees  their  wonder  at  hogwarts  in  their  eyes,  the  same  wonder  that  she  felt,  and  has  grown  quite  protective  over  quite  a  few  of  them.

she’s  technically  in  slug  club,  due  to  her  prowess  in  potions  and  her  illustrious  family  name,  although  she  hardly  ever  goes  –  she  does  not  like  slughorn  at  all,  nor  most  of  the  people  he’s  selected  to  be  in  his  little  club.  other  than  that,  however,  andromeda  doesn’t  make  a  habit  of  joining  clubs  or  teams  or  anything  that  would  involve  her  being  forced  to  interact  with  people.

PERSONALITY  !!

those  who  don’t  know  andromeda  might  say  she’s  aloof,  proud,  detached,  all  flint  eyes  &  sharp  edges.  and  they  wouldn’t  be  wrong.  andromeda’s  habit  of  keeping  to  the  shadows  has  carried  on  into  her  hogwarts  years,  and  as  an  introvert,  her  solitary  nature  can  sometimes  come  off  as  downright  anti-social.  she’s  naturally  pensive,  and  her  pensive  face  just  so  happens  to  look  pissed  off.  

she  finds  it  hard  to  trust  people.  she’s  so  used  to  a  world  shaped  by  selfishness  that  she  rarely  meets  someone  she  doesn’t  suspect  of  having  ulterior  motives.  after  all ,  beautiful  people,  like  beautiful  things,  are  temporary.  everyone  turns  ugly  sooner  or  later;  everyone’s  claws  are  eventually  revealed.

andromeda  carries  an  unmistakable  air  of  wealth  that,  although  entirely  unintentional,  can  rub  people  the  wrong  way.  she  has  a  taste  for  the  finer  things  in  life  —  an  aged  wine,  a  silken  scarf  —  and  sees  no  reason  why  she  shouldn’t  enjoy  them.  she’s  well  read  &  well  bred,  and  has  a  vocabulary  and  accent  that  can  seem  pretentious  to  some.

do  not  confuse  eloquence  with  smoothness,  though  —  just  because  she  knows  more  four-syllable  words  than  most  doesn’t  mean  she  knows  how  to  use  them.  awkwardness  comes  off  as  aloofness  and  snobbery.  think  mr  fitzwilliam  darcy.  this  girl  is  the  opposite  of  charming.  honestly,  most  people  probably  think  she’s  pretty  weird  cause  she’s  quiet  and  like  v  awkward  when  spoken  to.  just  kinda  does  stuff  on  her  own

[tere706]

Love is Blind - Chpt 16

(Oh boy, this is a monster chapter in so many ways. It's the longest chapter I've ever written (almost 5k!) and the angst is just dripping from this. 

So. I'm sorry in advance. Also: WARNING FOR BURNS

There is for sure one more chapter left in this story. I may come back and do a sequel of sorts for it, but I'll probably take a break before tackling that. I'd need to plan out some characters and plot points. 

Tagging: @inumorph, @dark-night-sky-99, @liadreyar-dragneel, @lunalustrix, @thirstyforvenom, @mltcp )

Eddie raked a hand through his hair, eyes flicking back and forth across the page. They’d gone back to their apartment so he could read through the information in peace. And so that he’d have easy access to the internet. He felt like shit, sweaty and exhausted from exertion and lack of sleep. But between the adrenaline and several cups of coffee he was still wired and awake. Eddie didn’t want to sleep. Sleeping would be time wasted finding Liz. Besides, he was afraid of what he would end up dreaming between his and Venom’s worry.

The papers started dry and clinical. It was mostly police and CPS reports for Aaron’s childhood. Eddie scanned through them to confirm that the teen hadn’t been in contact with his mother since he’d entered foster care. It also seemed unlikely that he would have gone back to any of his former foster homes, since he regularly ran away from them. Venom insisted that they check the current foster home once he was done with his research. Aaron probably hadn’t taken Liz to his current foster family, or she would have already contacted Eddie or returned home. That was if he’d even been responsible… but it was the only lead Eddie had right now. He and Venom had to stay focused on something. If nothing else, the teen might have information about Liz.

Even though Eddie hadn’t read any of Liz’s work, it wasn’t hard to guess who had written the psychological reports that began two years ago. She had mentioned using some kind of voice to text program for her writing, but he couldn’t remember what it was called. Didn’t matter now. Based on her reports, Aaron had started off an angry and introverted young teen. He had slowly come to trust Liz, perhaps because she didn’t represent a threat to him. Eddie could easily imagine someone finding her non-threatening with her lack of sight and warm personality. Liz’s later writing indicated her belief that Aaron was well on his way to a successful life. He wanted to go to college after high school and get a degree in welding. His grades in school had improved now that he was in a stable foster home and no longer running away to cause mischief with a street gang.

So why start a fire in the police station? And how? They had seen that fire, it hadn’t been a small trashcan fire. Half the station had been burned down. Eddie closed his eyes as he felt the fear and tension from Venom cause his guts to clench. Candles made Venom flinch, fire like that was just fucking terrifying. Eddie saw flashbacks to the rocket explosion, to the belief that Venom had sacrificed himself for Eddie.

EDDIE. FOCUS. WE ARE HERE AND WE ARE SAFE.

With a quick shake of his head, Eddie refocused on the papers. Liz didn’t have much information about the street gang Aaron had once belonged to. If the teen was still on the run from the police, possibly with a hostage now, it was possible he was using the former gang for help. They would have to track down some of their members after checking the foster home.

Eddie leaned back in his chair and glanced at the window. Sunlight was streaking into the apartment, giving it a cheerful golden glow that clashed with his current state of mind. It was still fairly early in the morning, well before noon. “Alright, V, plan of attack. We grab some food first and then make a few… house calls.”

GOOD. TIRED OF WAITING. LET’S GO FIND OUR LITTLE BIRD.

Eddie stood up and grabbed his jacket before pausing at the front door. “Shit. We left my bike at Calvin’s place.” He started reaching for his phone, thinking to call a cab. It wouldn’t be as fast, but it was better than walking. Would using public transportation actually be faster?

NO TIME, EDDIE. WE WILL GO.

He knew right away what Venom meant by that. “What?! In the middle of the day? You don’t exactly blend in, V!”

WE MUST HURRY. THIS IS FASTEST. BESIDES, MOST HUMANS DON’T LOOK UP.

~

Liz was pulled from her quiet misery by the sound of footsteps coming near. She didn’t bother calling out for help, she recognized the sound of these steps. But she did push herself up and turned to face Aaron as he approached. She really had no way to discern how long he’d been gone. Liz had carefully finished off the rest of the water in the water bottle and managed to move herself further away from where she’d thrown up upon first waking. She’d been considering trying to find her way around this place and escape on her own, but trying to stand made her head swim and it felt like she would be sick again. Besides, she had no idea when Aaron would be back.

“Sorry I was gone so long. I… needed to cool off.” Aaron murmured, setting down a plastic bag near Liz. “Um, since your stomach is upset, I got you some crackers. And a bottle of aspirin. Oh, and more water of course. Are you… feeling any better? You look a bit better.” He tried, he really did, to sound encouraging.

Liz took a slow breath, the thought of eating solid food made her queasy and she didn’t know if it was safe to take aspirin when suffering from a concussion. But the pain was bad enough that she decided to take the risk. She reached out and pulled the plastic bag closer, reaching in for the items.

“I’m feeling more awake, at least. But I’m not well, Aaron. I’m hurt.” She kept her tone as calm and gentle as possible. Riling Aaron up could prove deadly if he really had such poor control on his ability. “Thank you for getting these for me. You didn’t steal them, did you?”

Aaron huffed and stood back up. “No! I have some money. Cash. I don’t want to be tracked. Not much left, though.”

Liz nibbled on one of the crackers, she did know that taking aspirin on an empty stomach would only make her feel worse. So, that was probably why he hadn’t tried to skip town. Not enough money to make a clean getaway. Alright, that might have been a bit cynical of her to think. Aaron didn’t have anyone else to turn to, aside from his foster family, and they wouldn’t have been supportive of him running from the police either. There was an easy way to test that theory.

“Aaron, if I can get to a bank I could pull some money for you. Let you escape from the city and try to go into hiding.” Not that she had any intention of actually doing that. Liz had no desire to get in trouble for aiding his escape.

There was a long pause, probably Aaron thinking through the offer. “No. I don’t know how to go into hiding from the government. And I doubt I could get out of the country. We have to think of something else.”

“Like what? I don’t know what you want from this.” Liz pulled out another bottle of water from the bag, carefully unscrewing the lid and taking a sip. Her throat was still sore too, like she’d eaten too hot soup.

That made Aaron start his anxious pacing again. He never could stand still when he felt pressured and scared. “I don’t know! I want everything to go back to how it was before! I never asked to be like this. And I never meant to hurt anyone. I can’t really control it. I try, I really do.”

“You can’t turn back time.” Liz spoke gently, doing her best ‘calm and rational adult voice’. “Whether you like it or not, you have to face what you’ve done and what you can do. No one can make this go away, not even me.”

“No!” He was quick to snap. “I know it won’t, but I want to make it better. You’re friends with some of the cops. You can talk to them for me, make them help me!”

“I don’t know if you killed them in the fire or not.” Liz knew it was cruel, knew it would hurt him. But he wasn’t thinking rationally. Aaron had created a delusion for himself where everything would be put to rights because he willed it so. The world just didn’t work that way.

Aaron had stopped pacing at her words. The silence stretched between them, broken only dimly by the sound of distant cars and the choking cries of seagulls. Liz let it stand for almost a full minute before continuing.

“Yes. People died. I don’t know if they were prisoners or officers. As I understand, some of the bodies are proving difficult to identify because of how badly they were burned.”

“Stop it.” Aaron’s voice came out closer to a croak.

“Do you know how hot a fire has to be to distort and warp bones? I’ve no idea if teeth can be used. I’ve never studied something like that.” Liz didn’t back down, but she kept her tone distant and calm. There was no anger or malice in her voice.

“Stop it, please.”

“It was hot enough that they weren’t even sure if they had all the remains. It’s why the people were listed as missing instead of deceased in the news reports.”

“STOP TALKING!” The wash of heat, both in his voice and the air, hurt Liz. She flinched back, ducking her head down defensively. Aaron’s breath came in ragged pants as he tried to control himself. It was dangerous, pushing him to the point where he would snap like that. Liz knew what to use against him, but it was almost a betrayal of the trust she’d given him for the last two years.

Liz tilted her face back up when the heat passed, turning her face in his direction again. “You are a danger to yourself and others right now, Aaron. And there is nothing left for me to offer you. I can’t help you with the law. I can’t help you with your ability.”

“You said you’d help me!” Aaron shouted it at her, his voice almost cracking as he struggled between anger and pain.

“I will stand by you. I will support you. But I can’t do anything more to help you.” Liz spread her hands simply. “You’ve taken away all my options.”

Aaron didn’t answer her. He turned and ran from the building, footsteps echoing in the large space.

Liz waited until she couldn’t hear any trace of him. Good. Hopefully, he would stay away for a few hours. She planned to be gone by then. Liz grabbed the bottle of aspirin from the bag and quickly removed the plastic wrapping and cap so she could swallow three of the pills. She laid back down on her side, nibbling crackers and sipping water while she waited for them to start kicking in. Once she could stand and walk, she would find her way out of this place and get help.

She’d meant what she said to Aaron, as much as the words had pained her. Liz cared a great deal for the teen. His trust had been hard earned and he’d been doing so much to better his life. But Liz wanted to live more than she wanted to placate Aaron. If it came down to one of them, she was going to pick herself.

Liz just hoped she wouldn’t have to make that choice.

~

Judging by the number and frequency of the screams, Eddie believed he had sufficient evidence that people did look up to publish a paper. But Venom was right, it was faster to let him take over and swing them through the city. Traffic was a bitch, even on his motorcycle. And really, it would have been so much worse if Venom had had a meltdown in the back of a cab.

Thankfully, they hadn’t needed to question Aaron’s foster family. Venom had been able to tell from the scents in the air around the small home that the teen hadn’t been by. Eddie questioned Venom’s conclusions. They had no idea what Aaron smelled like, how had he known? Venom was already moving away from the area while answering.

“NONE OF THE SCENTS WERE OF A TEEN MALE. FEMALE YOUNG, FEMALE ADULT, MALE ADULT.” Venom had taken them to a rougher part of town, where the police reports indicated Aaron had been picked up from his street gang. He crouched on a roof, opalescent eyes narrowed as his tongue lashed the air.

You can’t just grab random people off the street and start interrogating them, V.

“AND WHY NOT?”

Maybe because it’s wrong? Even Eddie sounded tired, though. Too tired to really argue.

“WE WILL BE CAREFUL WITH WHO WE GRAB.”

By ‘careful with who we grab’, Venom obviously meant grab anyone that looked the least bit suspicious and then scream at them until they either passed out or wet themselves. Thankfully for all involved, Venom managed to catch his prize on the third try. The young man, Eddie refused to think of him as a child despite his apparent age, was only too happy to tell them anything they wanted in exchange for his life. He babbled off locations that the little gang liked to frequent and Eddie managed to prod Venom into demanding the name of the ringleader too. If nothing else, he would make sure that some justice was delivered to the person leading these kids into crime.

Venom was less interested in that. He was singularly focused on locating his little bird. After dropping off the kid, he was moving again. Eddie helped him with finding the locations that they had been given. Each failure only made Venom angrier and more desperate. They had no more leads if this didn’t work. Neither of them would be content with waiting for the police to look for Liz.

They were down to two locations when Venom landed on the roof of the warehouse. He crawled down the side of the building to peer into one of the windows. They were dusty and opaque with age. The space within was blocked by tall stacks of crates that turned the large warehouse into a maze of corridors. The lights within appeared to be off, but some light was filtering in from the windows. In the center of all those stacks it might be hard to see, but the edges were fairly well lit.

The place looked unoccupied, trash was littering some of the corners, but no recent evidence within his line of vision. Still, there was plenty of the inside he couldn’t see. Eddie nudged Venom to hurry up and do a sweep on the interior. They needed to move on to the next location if this was another bust. Venom quickly growled before smacking the window. It shattered under his blow, quite satisfyingly to be honest. He needed something to take his anger and worry out on.

Venom pulled himself into the warehouse from the broken window and froze. His eyes widened as his tongue lashed the air. Here. She was here. There was no mistaking the scent of his little bird. Relief slammed through them both as Venom dropped to the ground and ran toward the source, to the voice calling out.

“Hello? What was that?” Ah, she would have heard the window break when he made his entrance. Hearing her voice made giddy joy flood him, she was alright enough to be awake and aware of her surroundings. Everything was going to be okay, they would keep her safe.

Venom leapt around the corner of a wall of crates and stopped for a moment, chest heaving. Liz was standing, one hand against the wall of crates for guidance. She’d stopped when she heard his approach, body tense. Her clothes were rumpled and her face had a red tint like a sunburn. Venom and Eddie didn’t care.

“LITTLE BIRD…”

Liz’s hand dropped away from the wall of crates and she nearly sagged in relief. “Ven!”

He rushed to her, lifting one hand to gently cradle her face. His other hand wrapped around her waist to draw her closer. “YOU ARE HURT.”

Venom could feel her nod, face pressed into the warmth of his hand. “Yeah. I think I have a concussion. I don’t know how bad it is, but I really want to get to a hospital just to be sure.” She had reached up, wrapping a hand around his wrist and holding tight. Liz was quivering, breath coming in quick jerks.

“WE WILL TAKE YOU AWAY. IT IS OKAY.” His words were a soft rumble, almost a purr.

“No. It’ll make my head pound to start sobbing. I can keep-“

“What the fuck is that?!” Aaron’s voice, high pitched in shock and sudden terror, cut through Liz’s words.

Venom whirled in place, keeping Liz behind his bulk so he could face the source of the voice. The teen standing at the end of the crate wall behind Venom was almost six feet tall, but hadn’t filled out his frame. He still held himself awkwardly, too thin. The layers of baggy clothes helped to hide some of it, but even those were in poor repair. He’d likely had to steal what he could after escaping the fire at the police station.

“YOU.” Venom slowly grinned, eyes narrowed and teeth prominently on display. Here was the source of their pain and terror. This boy had hurt his little bird and taken her away.  

The teen stumbled back a step at that single word, but his eyes widened and flicked behind Venom for a moment. “Elizabeth?! Go, get away!” He shouted as he straightened. It looked like he wanted to stand up to Venom. A very foolish thing to do.

“Aaron, it’s okay! Ven is- No, don’t do this!”

Venom ignored her words, and the hand that reached out toward him, as he leapt forward. No, he wouldn’t kill the stupid boy. But he needed to learn a lesson about the consequences of his actions. Venom and Eddie would be happy to teach him.

Aaron yelped and tried to scramble back as Venom leapt at him. He fell back, catching himself with his left hand and raising his right. Heat blossomed in front of the teen briefly, then flames washed out in an arc from hand. More of the flames twined their way up his arm to his shoulder. Neither his clothes nor his body appeared harmed by the fire.

There was no way to avoid all the flames when he was still in the air, but the moment his foot touched the ground Venom sprang to the side and rolled. He snarled in rage and pain, feeling the sections of his being that had bubbled up and burned away from the touch of those flames.

Well, that explains the fires. Eddie remarked. Keep circling around until he’s facing away from Liz. We can’t risk her getting caught in a blast like that.

Now that was a good point. Venom started running to the side, slowly closing the space between him and the fire starter. Aaron had managed to regain his feet in those moments. He was panting hard, but turned to face Venom as he moved. The teen looked angry and scared, a potent mixture.

Aaron swung his arm in a half circle before himself, spreading down a wide swath of fire. Several of the crates on the far side caught fire as well. Venom cringed back from the flames, eyes narrowed.

EDDIE, WE MUST CLOSE THE DISTANCE WITH HIM.

Yeah, I noticed. Let’s try going up over and coming down right on top of him.

Venom backed up several steps. Smoke was starting to fill the air; the human wouldn’t be able to see him as clearly in the uncertain lighting. He ran forward and took a running leap to clear over the wall of flames.

They had an excellent view of Aaron backing up with both arms raised, flames curling up past his shoulders. A small spark crackled to life between his upraised hands. Then a torrent of flames was coating his body. Venom shrieked as his form bubbled and nearly boiled away from Eddie’s body. He retreated within his host, trying to protect the last of himself. Eddie landed on the concrete in a roll, gasping in pain. He’d been tucked into a ball by the time Venom retreated. His leather jacket took the worst of the flames from his arms, but his pants hadn’t faired as well. His roll had put the flames out, but he could feel the biting pain of fresh burns.

Eddie lifted his head, face twisted in a grimace of pain and rage. He needed to see the next attack so he could dodge out of the way, regardless of the pain. Eddie’s eyes widened in horror and he tried to throw himself forward, toward Aaron. Toward Liz.

“Liz, no!”

~

Liz struggled not to cry as she leaned her face into the warmth of Venom’s hand. Finally, she could start to feel safe again. Sure, she’d been working on escaping by herself, but knowing that she wasn’t by herself was like a weight from her shoulders. Venom and Eddie could get her the medical help she needed. And Eddie would be able to help her with Aaron.

“No. It’ll make my head pound to start sobbing. I can keep-“

She tensed when she heard Aaron’s voice behind Venom. He had turned away from her at the same time, so she reached out a hand to touch his back. Oh gods, this was not a good situation. Did… did Aaron think she was in danger?! Of course, he must see Venom as a monster.

“Aaron, it’s okay! Ven is- No, don’t do this!”

There was nothing Liz could do to hold Venom back. He leapt away before she could react. Besides, she didn’t think grabbing onto his waist would have slowed him much. She hadn’t even had a chance to warn Venom and Eddie about Aaron. Liz remembered the first time she’d met Eddie, passed out in her bed after Venom had healed them from burns. Fire was one of his weaknesses.

The wash of heat that came a moment later nearly staggered her. Liz stumbled aside and grabbed ahold of the wall of crates again. Fire crackled and roared ahead of her. Venom was snarling. Aaron was panting. But Liz was frozen in place. She had no idea where exactly the flames were ahead of her. And trying to walk away could just put her into the line of fire. Everything was happening too fast for her to be able to clearly hear where everyone was.

It felt like an hour had passed since Aaron confronted Venom, but it couldn’t have been more than a minute or two in real time. Then the sound she’d fear the most came to her ears. Venom was shrieking in pain after another blast of intense heat. Liz heard Aaron walking backwards toward her. She heard the sound of a body hitting the floor and rolling, even over the growing crackle of the fires.

Aaron was going to kill Eddie and Venom. Liz was going to lose them both in one moment. And the teen would destroy any chance of this working out in his favor. The deaths at the police station were an accident, probably. But this would be murder. Aaron was choosing to kill a man on the ground.

She couldn’t let that happen.

Liz pushed away from the crates, half stumbling as she lunged in the direction of Aaron’s footsteps with her arms outstretched. Her left hand contacted an arm and closed tight around it before she could think. Her right arm hit Aaron’s shoulder and the rest of her body slammed against him, knocking them both over. Liz thought she’d heard a shout, but her mind was preoccupied by pain.

The heat washed over her arms and she had tucked her head down enough that it was only mildly unpleasant there. But her hands, her arms… Liz knew she screamed as she held tightly to Aaron and the flames clawed into her flesh. It felt like she held to him for an eternity. The pain clawed its way up her arms and Liz had a manic thought that it would have hurt less to just cut them off.

Then she was being pulled away and something was hitting her arms, which just made them hurt more, not that she could do much to stop it. Liz tried to curl up, to protect her injuries. It just felt like too much effort to move. At least the pain was fading from her hands. That… probably wasn’t a good sign. She struggled to get her brain to focus. When burns stopped hurting it… it meant they were bad.

“Stay with me! Liz!”

Stay? But her head hurt, and the upper parts of her arms still hurt terribly, almost like the flames were still chewing at her flesh. It would be very rude if they’d left part of her burning, but she couldn’t muster the energy to do anything about it. Liz just wanted the pain to go away, why did she have to stay?

“Liz!”

And then it was quiet, and the pain was gone.

~

Aaron was shocked when something slammed into him from the side. He fell heavily to the ground, trying to twist around and kick the person away- Elizabeth! No! He gasped and pulled the flames back into his own body. There was a painful backlash in his head, making his vision swim. Or maybe that was the tears. Oh god, her arms were on fire! Aaron screamed and peeled her left hand off his arm.

The other man was there suddenly, pulling Elizabeth away from him. He had taken his coat off and used it to smother the last of the flames. Aaron just knelt there, staring at what he’d done. Elizabeth’s left hand was covered in white and cherry red patches, the fingers still curled. The burns swept up her arm to just below her elbow, changing from those white and red patches to reddened and blistered skin. Her right hand was reddened and blistered, but it was her arm that had touched his shoulder and the flames. The worst of the burns started on her forearm and spread up higher, half way to her shoulder along with her hand.

He felt sick as he watched the man touch Elizabeth’s cheek, trying to talk to her. She wasn’t responding, not even crying out in pain anymore. He’d done this. How many times had he promised not to hurt her? That he wasn’t dangerous? Aaron looked down at his hands, unharmed despite the flames. If he’d listened… could he have avoided this?

“Hey!”

The sharp tone made Aaron’s head snap back up, staring at the man with wide eyes.

“You have a phone?! Use it! Call an ambulance! And get those fires under control!” The stranger pointed toward the crates that were still happily burning away from the earlier fight.

“I… I don’t know if I can…”

“Then just call 911!” He turned away from Aaron again, talking softly as he crouched over Elizabeth’s body.

Aaron grabbed at his cell with shaking hands. The least he could do was not make things worse.

~

SHE’S DYING!

Eddie gritted his teeth at the weak protest from Venom. He was too weak to take control and get Liz to a hospital. They were trapped here until an ambulance came.

“Come on, Liz. Stay with me. Wake up, please.” He needed her to wake up. Eddie could barely look at the burns on her arms, they made him nauseous. Why had she done that?! To protect them, of course. Eddie was going to be very angry with Liz soon. And she’d have to listen to a lecture about stupidly heroic acts once she was better. Because she was going to be better.

Eddie felt for the pulse in Liz’s throat. It was weak and fast. Her skin was becoming cool to the touch. She was going into shock and who knew how bad the trauma from her concussion was on top of the burns.

Help her, V! Help me save her!

And to think, at one point he’d felt jealous that Venom might have preferred Liz as a host. Eddie regretted all of that now.

CAN’T He sounded miserable. WOULD HURT HER. SHE IS NOT A SUITABLE HOST.

Eddie cupped Liz’s face in his hands, bent over her. Helpless. The wail of sirens was growing closer.

“Hang on, Liz. Please. Don’t leave us yet. Please.” Tears fell to splash against Liz’s face.

[camdenfringe]

CHANGES TO THE PRINTED PROGRAMME

Since we printed the glossy A5 brochure for the Camden Fringe there have been a number of additions to the line-up and a couple of cancellations. Here is a list of forthcoming changes. Always check our website for the most up to date line-up information

**ALTERATIONS**

The times for this show are different to those printed in the brochure You Have Absolutely No Sense Of Time The Black Box Theatre 2, 9-11 August at 4.30pm, 3-4 August at 6pm, Hen and Chickens https://camdenfringe.com/show.php?acts_id=2453

Isabelle Farah: Ellipsis Now on 7.45pm on 21 August at the Albany (moved from 4 August) https://camdenfringe.com/show.php?acts_id=2505

Dannie Grufferty: How Brexit sent us all slightly mad 9pm 5-7 August + 9pm 18 August at The Albany (4 August cancelled) https://camdenfringe.com/show.php?acts_id=2421

**EXTRA SHOWS**

Remember Tonight Vortex Collision Arts Company 9.30pm 2-3 August at London Irish Centre A young man brings home a stranger who was beaten up on the street. His desperate attempt to help the person in need leads him to discover wounds he wasn’t meant to deal with. Soon, they will be unexpectedly engulfed in a loop where there will be nothing that could not happen.

Joseph Parsons: Baggy Point 5.30pm 4 August The Bill Murray Joseph Parsons (as seen on Channel 4) presents his uplifting, sell-out stand up comedy show, Baggy Point. With his lovable and electric energy on stage, Joseph tells the story of discovering his sexuality as he clumsily navigates his way through social gatherings, love and living in a different country. Joseph also looks at how the perceptions of sexuality in smaller towns and homophobia in football affect younger people growing up. All proceeds to this show will go to Football v Homophobia. https://camdenfringe.com/show.php?acts_id=2708

Sea Changes Marina Jenkyns Productions 12.30pm 5-9 August Etcetera Theatre Sharon; `You know what? He was jealous. Never been outside Shepherd's Bush. Imagine fucking a man who's never flown!'Mair: `Soft on my face. Her skin, her tears. Must go on. Mustn't stop. Must do it'.Maeve: `Sally and I lay down, sun on our faces, just touching, like our hands.Understanding the past in order to create the future. https://camdenfringe.com/show.php?acts_id=2719

The Feminazis Curious Dispute 4.30pm 5-7 August Etcetera Theatre The Feminazis' juxtaposes a classical duo comedy format with explicit imagery, presenting the question 'how far is too far'? Frustrated with the lack of progression in modern day society regarding gender equality, Sal and Libby decide to take matters into their own hands by creating a terrorist organisation. https://camdenfringe.com/show.php?acts_id=2716

The Party Pilgrim Productions 9pm 5-9 August The Cockpit In September 2018, the president's nominee for the U.S. Supreme Court, was accused by a woman of sexual assault 36 years earlier. This revelation, broadcast worldwide at a Senate committee hearing, has since become a major cause celebre. 'The Party' by Sam J. Stewart is a 2-act play which re-lives and examines this drama. https://camdenfringe.com/show.php?acts_id=2688

Jet Set Go! Pump House CYT 7.30pm 9 – 10 August Theatro Technis A delightful, inventive and witty new musical about 24 hours in the ordinary working life of a transatlantic airline cabin crew; sex, romance, optimism and jaded cynicism are thrown together into a bitchy, campy but essentially tender-hearted cocktail. "A production that’s warm, funny and wonderfully scored” **** The Scotsman. https://camdenfringe.com/show.php?acts_id=2720

Love Is... Spitball Theatre Company 9.30pm 9-10 August at London Irish Centre Two women and one non-binary person delve into love, in all its many forms. We all remember our first love, don’t we? Have you tried to block out that painful memory? Does that fleeting eye contact still play on your mind? Featuring movement, music and true stories we take you through loves lost and won. https://camdenfringe.com/show.php?acts_id=2698

Fraser Gibson: Self-ish 3.45pm 10-August The Bill Murray Fraser Gibson's debut show is a wrestle with the Self-ish pursuit of being a stand-up comedian. Explained through tall tales, uncanny impressions and a good ol' song or two... A hilarious session of self-therapy! https://camdenfringe.com/show.php?acts_id=2711

Matt Blair – Mattinée 3pm 11 August The Bill Murray An hour of musical comedy, jokes and references from the mind of a movie fanatic. Join Matt on his journey to find out why we love movies so much. https://camdenfringe.com/show.php?acts_id=2556

Ordinary Days Pump Priming Productions 7.30pm 11 August Theatro Technis A romance on the rocks, an artist's vision stalled, and a graduates thesis in peril lead four young New Yorkers through a series of humorous and touching musical, intersecting vignettes, as they search for fulfilment, happiness, love and cabs.This melodious one act musical, performed by an award winning cast, is a hidden gem. https://camdenfringe.com/show.php?acts_id=2721

Si Deaves - Si's Matters 8pm 11 August Camden Comedy Club Nuclear annihilation!! Brexit?! Rabies?? There are so many issues in the world today, yet Si Deaves still finds time to worry about the little things, in his own unique way. Join Si‚Äôs world as he tackles "inspiration", fears of inadequacy, *that* drunk guy at the pub and much more in his official debut stand-up hour, Si’s Matters. https://camdenfringe.com/show.php?acts_id=2722

G(L)ORY Ocular Seven Productions 9pm 11-13 August The Hen and Chickens True crime, murder mystery, serial killer docs, you name it Bobby's binged it. Just like everyone else in the office, so what makes him so different? Through Bobby, we explore the public and media fascination and glorification of violence. Why do we keep watching? https://camdenfringe.com/show.php?acts_id=2712

Be More Bee 12.30pm 13-14 August Etcetera Theatre Feeling broken or lost in a scary world? Looking for a Marie Kondo type, but more Home Counties? Well Bea has got just the ticket to cheer you up. It’s the bees! They’ve got the secret to happiness! Let her guide you through the honey-soaked life-hacks of the British Bee. Preposterous new comedy by Jenni Mackenzie-Jones. With a tombola. https://camdenfringe.com/show.php?acts_id=2717

Together For Seven BearFoot 2.30pm 13 – 15 August Etcetera Theatre This is the last place you would expect to find yourself; a police station. You cast your mind back to the good, the bad and the ugly. Teetering on the edge of disaster, wondering whether forgiveness will find you, do you favour the truth or favour yourself? What risks would you take to protect your family when the odds are stacked against you? https://camdenfringe.com/show.php?acts_id=2706

Dougie Dixon: Proper Belter 8pm 13-14 August Camden Comedy Club Meet Dougie Dixon. He's the reality TV star you didn't know you knew. Original TOWIE cast member. As seen on Tipping Point Lucky Stars, Celebs On The Farm (reserve contestant) & Embarrassing Celebrity Bodies. Series winner of The Celebrity Etch-A-Sketch Challenge. Come join Dougie as he launches his first ever debut autobiography; Proper Belter! https://camdenfringe.com/show.php?acts_id=2723

Sam Mitchell: Wham Bam Thank You Sam 9.30pm 13 August The Bill Murray 45 mins of stand up comedy from one of the greats* about growing up**, committing*** and M+M World. * if you ask him ** trying to *** see above. https://camdenfringe.com/show.php?acts_id=2707

Faye Treacy is a Work in Progress 8pm 15-17 August Camden Comedy Club As seen on BBC Three and heard on Radio Four, Faye Treacy is back with a new work in progress show. "One of the most unique performances you'll see at the Fringe this year... simultaneously childish, genius and inescapably memorable." **** (1/2) (ShortCom) https://camdenfringe.com/show.php?acts_id=2715

Dan Horrigan's Riot to Heaven Sky or the Bird 8.30pm 16-20 August at Aces and Eights High octane stories from men who would steal the eyes of ya and you wouldn't know until you went to read the paper. Laugh, weep and laugh again as we break into heaven. Raconteuring, storytelling, and theatre of the highest calibre. Second chances are rarer than rocking horse manure so get your ticket before we're off to rob another town. Cheers. https://camdenfringe.com/show.php?acts_id=2549

Fatiha El-Ghorri & Katherine Atkinson: Mocking Birds Fat Kat Comedy 4.15pm 18 August at The Bill Murray Join Fatiha El-Ghorri and Katherine Atkinson (both 2017 Funny Women Awards Regional Finalists) for an hour of stand up as Fatiha smashes Muslim stereotypes and challenges you to re-think what you think you know about Islam and Muslims, and Katherine offers up an acerbic, sideways view of motherhood, if she can be bothered. https://camdenfringe.com/show.php?acts_id=2728

Dane Baptiste: Work in progress 9.30pm 18 August at The Bill Murray Star of Live at the Apollo (BBC Two), Tonight at the London Palladium (ITV1) and 8 out of 10 Cats Does Countdown (Channel 4) - Join Baptiste as he workshops brand new material for his next tour show. https://camdenfringe.com/show.php?acts_id=2727

Red Richardson: Red Notice 8.15pm 21-22, 9pm 23-24 August The Taproom In 2017 Red Richardson left a building in Central London to see thousands of people running down the street screaming, for the next 35 minutes the whole of the country (Thanks to Pop star Ollie Murs tweeting from a basement in H and M) believed it was a terrorist attack. It wasn't. This is an hour of stand up about the human condition in crisis. https://camdenfringe.com/show.php?acts_id=2390

Leave this World Alive 9.30pm 21 August at Water Rats 'I hope the exit is joyful' - wrote Frida Kahlo, only days before she died. When was the last time YOU thought about your end? And how does it make you feel? Powerless? Awake? Does it help you appreciate the moment you live in? We will reach out for a topic which brings all these questions on the table: assisted dying - determining our own end. https://camdenfringe.com/show.php?acts_id=2731

Nico. No Regrets. 8.30pm 23 August The Chapel Playhouse A show by and with Margherita Remotti in association with Actors East London. Directed by Alberto Barbi. Text by Fernando Coratelli and Margherita Remotti. In this one woman show, we explore the life of Nico, better known as Andy Warhol's superstar, muse and rockstar singer of the Velvet Underground. But you will discover this was only the surface. https://camdenfringe.com/show.php?acts_id=2729

The Golden Child William Desmond 5pm 24-25 August The Chapel Playhouse William Desmond has always considered himself the Golden Child. Today, people need to standout in a crowd of hundreds of faces. Will is a twin, and during this 60 minute show he explores what it is like to be in constant competition with his brother. With musical parody and silliness, Will explains being good at everything isn't always the answer. https://camdenfringe.com/show.php?acts_id=2718

Ross Drummond & Harry Monaghan: The Orb 5.30pm 25 August The Bill Murray Have you touched The Orb? Want to meet two that have? A mainstay of science, wonder and amazement since its inception in the late 80s, The Orb is science’s greatest invention. What’s its purpose? We’re not sure. Perhaps it merely exists to inspire us. Anything is possible with The Orb. https://camdenfringe.com/show.php?acts_id=2709

**CANCELLED**

Darius Tabai: Schrodinger's Mum Comic Quartets Lloyd Langford: New Things (A Work in Progress) Steve McNeil: Video Games

[vmheadquarters]

Happy Birthday @spookykinney!

For your birthday, surfer-Logan and FBI-Veronica are teaming up in this delightful remake of Point Break as told by our very own @cheshirecatstrut! We hope you have a great birthday and that you enjoy this first chapter of Taking the Drop.

It’s not like Veronica thought, while fighting tooth-and-nail to win a job at the FBI, that a law enforcement career would be glamorous. She assumed ‘high-risk’ and ‘life-consuming’ went without saying… but jumped in with both feet because everyone assumed she’d fail. Throughout those years she waged battles with a stacked system, though, to earn her gun and badge—she never once imagined the work would be BORING.

She’s currently reading email nine-thousand-three of more than forty-six thousand, however, so she can catalog contents to make a searchable database; and the sheer tedium has her reconsidering her position. Because sure, she MIGHT find the smoking gun in this stash, and put an international fraudster behind bars. But since right now she’s transcribing vet bills for a Pomeranian’s impacted anal glands, she has her doubts.

Voices filter back to her small and grimy cubicle, her reward for graduating Cum Laude from Columbia Law; she perks up as she hears the words, “…see if an agent’s available.” Since she’s fresh out of the Academy, and most junior on staff, Agent in Charge of Random Bullshit is usually her.

Approaching footsteps bolster this theory, so Veronica pitches her gum, straightens her somewhat-wilted blazer. Turns expectantly towards the entrance, alert-and-professional expression in place, just as Logan Echolls lounges against the frame.

He looks GOOD, she thinks illogically, even as she wilts like her sport coat. Tanned and buff and fifty times healthier than he should, considering those six years of tabloid-chronicled hedonism since she dumped him. He’s in old jeans and flip-flops, his ‘Live Fast, Die Young’ t-shirt both worn and snug; faint sun-wrinkles at the corners of his eyes deepen when he notes her disappointment. Darla from reception waves and OH-MY-GOD’s behind him as he says, “Why am I not surprised you turned a felony kidnapping investigation into a job?”

“Why am I not surprised you’re still wasting your potential at the beach?” She gestures up-and-down at his ensemble. “And what on Earth are you doing in the San Diego field office, Logan? Are you planning to make another romantic drunken speech? Maybe you saw a joke flyer advertising kegs, and the metal detectors failed to deter you?”

“You wound me, Veronica,” he says, clearly not wounded, as she shoos away Darla. “You know full well I’m always the host. Like I’d deign to turn up at some random loser’s party.”

She snorts, and his grin faintly manifests. “Tragically, though, there’s a distinct lack of revelry and booze at this locale, so how about I cut to the chase? Can I interest you in a theory regarding bank robberies?”

Her eyes widen and she sits back, gesturing towards the uncomfortable guest chair. He unfolds from his lean and slouches into it, stretching out his long legs and making the cube feel minuscule.

“Now what would a boy like you know about felony theft?” She taps her lower lip while he crosses his arms, entertained. “I’m guessing very little, unless you learned on a film set—but I’ll admit you’ve disappointed me before.”

“I’m talking, specifically, about high-yield local jobs—the ones you guys have bungled like Keystone Cops for three years?” He bobs his brows, tone ever-so-slightly-patronizing. “The robbers wear Ninja Turtle masks, and collect massive hauls with a crew of four?”

“I may have heard a mention,” V says, with irony, because this case is the local Holy Grail. “As has every cable-news watcher in America.”

“Any lovers of partisan coverage realized yet the jobs only take place in the summer?”

She rolls her eyes. “Give us a little credit. We’re the FBI over here, not credulous guest stars on Scooby Doo.”

“And has it further occurred to you,” he leans forward intently, elbows on knees, “that these are the prime surfing months in So-Cal? For the rest of the year, surfers travel to the best waves…which costs more than people other than me can afford.”

He’s close enough now for her to smell his cologne, the sun-baked scent of his skin. Her voice, when she speaks, is husky. “Logan, what have you heard?”

Shrugging, he reclines against the wall, satisfied he’s piqued her curiosity. “Rumors,” he says, with a hand wave. “Nothing substantial. You know how it goes, when we reprobates toast marshmallows and gossip. High-denomination bills are turning up among locals, lately…and I’m the only guy who hasn’t spent his trust fund.”

“Rumors,” she repeats flatly, disappointment washing over her. Decides he looks and smells too lickable for pointless conversation to continue. “Well if that’s all you’ve got, no need to prolong the awkwardness. Thanks for stopping by--we’ll look into your allegations and touch base if necessary. Appreciate the good citizenship, blah-blah, God bless America.”

She finger-waves, and he stares for a moment, disbelief fading into cynicism. “Fine,” he says at last, pushing up out of the chair. “Your loss. I’ve had fun exchanging insults again, Veronica—it’s been a while since my last creative tongue-lashing. Good luck with the glamorous new career. Oh, and…excellent choice, reverting to shorter hair. There’ll be less to tear out when ignoring my clue gets you nowhere.”

He winks and strides away. She runs a palm self-consciously along one side of her sleek bob, and watches his back muscles shift as he goes.

XXXXX

Veronica submits a form detailing the interaction, per procedure, then tries to re-focus on the mind-numbing emails. The memory of Logan’s disappointed expression nags…but what did he expect, showing up out of the blue with no evidence? She WANTED to believe him; just like she wanted, once upon a time, to have faith he’d give up reckless self-endangerment. But leaping without looking is Logan’s thing--and the best way to protect him is to NOT inquire into crimes of his nearest and dearest.

She’s a professional, though, and the bigwigs want their database yesterday. So she dutifully enters emails till it’s eleven and she’s wiped. V then drags herself home to run on the treadmill, eat a frozen dinner, and feel both sad and glad she’s got no hungry dog waiting.

When her alarm goes off (too early) the next morning, she staggers into the kitchen to grab a bottled coffee; slumps half-awake at the breakfast table to chug. Mac’s gone for the day, probably practicing Tai Chi in the park, but the San Diego Union-Tribune’s on the table, neatly folded to show the front page. Veronica’s bleary gaze passes over it…then swings back, focuses. She grabs it in both hands, cursing.

The headline reads, ‘Wild in the Banks? Surf Wax Found at Multiple Robbery Sites, Source Claims’. The article beneath, written by some pompous windbag named Julian Grac, details the theory Logan laid out yesterday…along with several bits of evidence she’s sure were kept from the press.

“That asshole talked to the PAPER,” she mutters, crumpling newsprint in her fists. “When I kicked him to the curb, I should have kicked HARDER!”

Her rage sustains her all the way through her shower and commute. But when she gets inside the forbidding white-stone-blue-glass building, and finds a summons from Agent Morris waiting? Anger gives way to foreboding.

Morris still holds a teeny-tiny grudge about the whole getting-outsmarted-IN-RE-Duncan thing. And continues to view Veronica with unreasonable suspicion--which is troublesome because right now she’s V’s boss.

Her fearless leader’s planted on the desktop when Veronica enters, legs crossed casually, arms folded. The ‘lazy housecat, circling’ routine Morris uses to intimidate is getting old; so V goes full can-do chipper in response. “You asked to see me, ma’am?”

“Mars, am I right in assuming we work for the same department?” Morris arches one eyebrow, and Veronica has to bite her tongue to contain sarcasm. “It’s not something I hallucinated, due to lack of sleep from investigating bank heists?”

“Last time I checked, ma’am,” V replies breezily. “Unless there was a re-org this morning while I was stuck in traffic.”

“And when a potential witness for said case appears in said department…” Morris pauses, for dramatic effect, Veronica assumes. “Shouldn’t the interviewing agent, who’s incidentally my subordinate, notify me ASAP?”

“I passed the information up the chain as per FBI rules,” Veronica says. “And you must have received it, or I wouldn’t be standing here.”

“Yes, but if you had walked Mr...” Morris consults a sheet of paper on the desk by her hip, “Echolls upstairs personally, instead of sending him on his way and writing a bare-bones report, I would’ve received the information YESTERDAY. BEFORE he ran to the paper, and spilled critical intel to perps. I might’ve even convinced him silence is golden, since you didn’t find it worthwhile to try. Here’s a hint—fake sympathy and charm work wonders.”

Veronica finds this claim dubious, but all she says is, “Ma’am, he was passing along rumors. He didn’t give names or offer proof. And I doubt he’s a witness to anything but his own moral decline.”

“Be that as it may,” Morris says. “He HAS made the acquaintance of this pain-in-my-ass Julian Grac. Who somehow knows about the beeswax residue at six of nine robbery sites--the chemical composition of which matches a well-known surf product. Mr. Zog’s Sex Wax, to be precise. Bubblegum scent.”

Veronica contains an eye-roll. “A detail which was kept out of the press.”

“Right.” Morris levers herself up to standing. “My question is, HOW does Grac know? Did he learn this tidbit from Echolls? And if so, where’d Echolls hear?”

“Logan parties a lot.” Veronica shrugs, hoping she comes off unaffected. “And snoops. Probably he stumbled into the wrong crowd and overheard a conversation. It wouldn’t be the first time.”

“Yes, I was interested to learn you and Echolls share a history.” Morris consults the paper again; Veronica wonders whether it’s a car-wash receipt or actual research. “He was your boyfriend after Duncan Kane fled the country, correct? It’s great you didn’t disappear him, too, because we can use that relationship to get close to his sources.”

“Logan Echolls isn’t big on being used,” Veronica says, lightly. “You might not find him accommodating.”

Morris sighs. “Look, Mars, we’ve been praying for a break on this case for years. And, as I’m sure you’ll be shocked to learn, none of our agents surf. He does, though—Echolls—I understand he’s pretty good. He also trusts you enough to hand you dirt on guys he knows. It might be…” she trails a finger along the edge of her desk, slants V a sly look, “…advantageous to your career to demonstrate team loyalty, Mars. Convince the guy to be our confidential informant. Get an introduction to some surfers, find out who’s flashing mystery cash. His social circle’s no doubt heard about your turbulent former romance. He could help us infiltrate the locals-only crowd, none of whom like talking to Feds.”

“But if I go undercover,” Veronica tries to conceal her mounting excitement, “who will log the last thirty-thousand Sanderson emails?”

“Let me put it this way, Mars.” Morris smirks. “If you DON’T go undercover? I got a server in today from Atlanta containing another hundred-k.”

“You know I’m a professional, ma’am.” Veronica folds her hands behind her back to conceal the involuntary fist. “Whatever my task may be, I’ll work hard to exceed expectations.”

“So you say.” Morris lays the paper, gently, down. “I’d rather you prove ‘my task’ means ‘anything the FBI asks’. Not ‘whatever I feel is right, even if it’s against the law’.”

Veronica nods, giving away nothing. Morris contemplates her in silence. “We’re working on an alternate post-Hearst background for you,” her boss continues, after a tense thirty seconds. “You’ll have it by the end of the day. I’ve also called in a favor from the owner of Neptune’s Net, a local surf hangout—congratulations, you’re waiting tables. You’ve got a month to produce actionable evidence, plus I want weekly reports, in person. And Mars…from now on, don’t leave ANYTHING out.”

“I would NEVER.” Veronica presses a palm to her heart. Morris narrows her eyes, then waves a dismissive hand.

XXXXX

Once back at her desk, V pulls up tools that make Prying Eyez look like a toy and researches Logan. Within two minutes she’s got a list of his petty crimes, including one drunk-and-disorderly sophomore year and two expunged charges…destruction of a police vehicle, and assault of Mercer Hayes. But since junior year at Hearst, Logan’s flown under the radar. He earned a political science degree, with honors, followed by a Masters in English from YALE; and then…he bought a house in San Diego by the water, and a dog from the SPCA. She copies down the innocuous address, cracks her knuckles and considers.

High-tech’s getting her nowhere, so Veronica decides to Google; finds a ‘What happened to Logan Echolls?’ article which reveals precisely nothing. Next she turns her attention to Julian Grac, which at least has the benefit of novelty. It yields links to crime stories in the Union-Tribune, and an article about ‘ten great authors you’ve never read’.

Frowning, she clicks through, only to realize it’s name confusion. But the phrase ‘a writer who prefers obscurity’ catches her attention, so she speed-reads the autobiography of one Julien Gracq; a turn-of-the-century novelist who rejected awards, refused to do book tours, and lived as a hermit. His masterpiece, ‘Chateau D’Argol’, was about a rich man whose best friend brings a poor girl into their social circle. After which the girl seduces, then ruins, them both.

At this point Veronica throws her pencil holder across the room. Because this is EXACTLY the kind of pseudonym Logan Echolls would adopt, and smirk about regularly, knowing few had the insight to penetrate his ruse.

She doesn’t need to use the search tools on Grac, at this point; but doing so reveals his paychecks languish in a shell account. Suspicions confirmed, she picks up the phone. Adopts the sugariest Southern accent she can muster, just because, and spins a tale to the Trib’s receptionist about the tip of a lifetime for ‘Monsieur Grac’. The voicemail box she’s transferred to boasts an inspirational quote (‘All news, as it is called, is gossip, and they who edit it are old women over tea’), recited in a drawl she recognizes. She hangs up, high on triumph, and decides a long-distance chewing-out won’t serve.

XXXXX

Veronica leans against a lamp post across the street to wait; within half an hour, Logan bounces out of the brown skyscraper housing the Union-Tribune. He loosens his tie as he walks, laughingly calling goodbyes to co-workers. He’s in designer flat-front slacks and a white oxford, hair mussed like he’s been running his hands through it--his impersonation of clean-cut and trustworthy is so cute she has to grit her teeth not to smile.

The street is packed with cabs, so it takes him a minute to notice her. When he does, he pulls a theatrical double-take before jaywalking, hands in pockets, smiling wryly.

“So,” she says, as soon as he clears the road, “Can I interest YOU in a theory about people who lie to FBI agents?”

“I didn’t lie, per se,” he counters, rocking back on his heels as his grin grows Grinch-like. “I just wore my weekend clothes and kept my mouth shut. The Veronica Mars Express Train to Paranoia-ville did the rest.”

“This is a serious federal investigation, Logan,” she chides, folding her arms. “Bringing evidence to the authorities isn’t a game for personal amusement.”

“What, exactly, are you mad about?” He lifts his brows. “That I gave you a hint instead of handing over story notes? That I failed to shout my job history from the rooftops? Or maybe you’re just pissed I’m not an alcoholic loser, since it makes you ditching me seem…selfish?”

“I could’ve had you subpoena’d and interrogated under oath,” she says, faux-thoughtfully. “But browbeating you in person seemed much more fun.”

He laughs. “THERE’s the Veronica who ran afoul of the Russian mob. So what convinced you my theory was worth pursuing, sugarplum? Not my charm, surely. Some fact in the article your colleagues missed, perhaps?”

“Like I’d discuss cases with a reporter,” she scoffs. “Why’d you go with ‘robberies only happen in summer’ when you had physical evidence in reserve?”

“Like I’d reveal my sources.” He grins. “Gosh, Veronica, seems like we’re at an impasse.”

“My supervisor wants to use your connections.” She goes sardonic in response to his glee. “I’d ask if you have experience undercover…”

“…But you know first-hand my skills are professional-grade?”

She narrows her eyes. He cocks his head, amusement warring with calculation. “If I help you, what do I get?” he asks.

“First crack at the story immediately following arrests,” she says. “With our full cooperation. And any information you gather solo you can use…unless, of course, it’s classified.”

He removes car keys from his pocket; stares, considering, into the distance as he flips them around one finger. Returns his gaze to hers and locks on, Logan-style. “I assume my role is to introduce you to suspicious surfers? Since I further assume you won’t let me handle this and report back?”

“You know what they say about assumptions,” she says, by way of answer. “Of course, you’re an ass already, so maybe you don’t care.”

“I should warn you, a lot of our high-school classmates have stuck around.” He holds his tie down with one palm as a breeze shifts it sideways. “This may suck for you, but you’ll have to pretend we’ve reconciled.”

She nods, and he extends the non-key-containing hand. “Give me your phone.”

V shouldn’t violate protocol; but Logan’s trustworthy, within limits, so she types in the code and does. He enters his number in the contacts and gives it back. “There’s a party tonight at Black’s Beach—should be locals-only, very exclusive. Text me an address, I’ll pick you up at eight. Oh, and dress like a surf bunny, even if doing so offends your sensibilities. Not all these people are stupid, you’ll need to blend.”

“Gee, I was hoping you’d refuse to cooperate,” she says wistfully, pocketing her cell. “Then do something worse than jaywalking, then flee, so I could knock you down and cuff you.”

“Maybe later, if you’re REALLY nice,” he says, leaning confidentially towards her ear. Then walks off, whistling, while she tries to purge the image from her brain.

XXXXX

Veronica’s sitting on the porch of her rented condo when Logan pulls up at 7:55—in a dusty black vintage Range Rover, not the shiny orange Porsche she envisioned. She considers, as she stands, whether she also makes too many assumptions. But his appreciative whistle while he opens her door is distracting.

“Guess it slipped my mind how much you love playing dress-up,” he murmurs. She doesn’t miss the quick once-over he gives her as he releases the brake. “You look great, Veronica, love the sarong. And friendship bracelets are a nice touch.”

“This is actually a tablecloth.” She strokes the fringed white linen, embroidered with red roses, she tied over one hip so she’d feel less naked in her green bikini. “I favor a no-nonsense black wardrobe these days, because Cup ‘o Soup stains don’t show.”

“Wise,” he says, and clears his throat. He’s in linen too, a short-sleeved, half-buttoned summer shirt over cargo shorts; she notes with amusement the shark’s tooth necklace has reappeared. “I figured we’d start at the top of the food chain and work our way down, since most surf crews around here are big on punching but short on brains. Brains being a prerequisite for smoothly-planned bank jobs.”

“Sounds fair,” she agrees, watching his arm muscles shift as he changes gears. “This party is where we’ll find apex predators?”

“Black’s has the most challenging waves in the area—ten, twelve footers courtesy of an offshore trench. It takes stamina to swim out and ride, so this spot attracts real athletes…the ranked surfers that compete on TV. And Zen masters, who just want to be one with the ocean.”

She makes a face, and he says, serious, “It’s not a joking matter to these people, Veronica. They don’t welcome posers in their midst. I vividly recall you disapproving of fistfights and vandalism, so be warned; the elite surfing community makes me, way back when, look like a piker. Crews are similar to those biker gangs you inexplicably love, although these are black sheep from MIDDLE-class homes--plus more ethnically diverse. This particular group is Mother Nature mystical in a way you’ll loathe and mock; so expect pot and hallucinogens, free love interspersed with showdowns. Stick close to me or you’ll be propositioned…and whipping out a taser would break your cover.”

“Understood.” She studies his face, surprised to see concern there. Gentles her tone in response. “I’ve gone undercover before, Logan. And agents are extensively trained in hand-to-hand combat. I can handle myself in a fight now.”

“Like you couldn’t before?” A smile plays across his lips; a street lamp illuminates his face as they pass beneath, then he’s cast again in shadow. He turns into a parking lot at the edge of a cliff and kills the engine. “I’m not worried about your moxie, Veronica. I just don’t want you to mouth off and find yourself surrounded. Out here, surfers make the rules.”

“I have full faith in your ability to fight dirty defending me,” she says softly. He laughs, gaze tracing her face, and she’s reminded of previous evenings with him in a parked car.

“Nice to see some things don’t change,” he murmurs, then climbs out to help her down. His hands linger on her waist as he lifts her from the seat, skin-to-skin.

They pass, in the moonlight, a brown sign that reads ‘stairway unstable due to rains’. He walks behind her down a narrow path with a rotting rail, hand on her shoulder like he’ll catch her if she falls. It’s nice, this unwavering focus, his concern for her well-being despite angry words. She used to take it for granted, the way she drew male eyes. But she’s grown up, post-Hearst; and she realizes now most men don’t pay attention as completely as Logan did.

At the base of the cliff, past a saucer-shaped observation tower, a bonfire sends smoke spiraling into the sky; loud music blasts, Dick Dale with the bass maxed. Seventy-ish people cluster near the crackling flames--on either side, a ribbon of sand stretches off into the dark. The water looks black, boasting military-formation-regular waves, and the rock wall at her back is smooth, forbidding.

The crowd’s uninhibited as advertised, drinking and making out, smoking and laughing. A few guys dance in a circle with much hilarity, like they’re having some Lord of the Flies moment or praying for rain. A knot of humanity encircles loose boulders at what’s clearly the party’s center.

It’s obvious Logan’s no stranger, despite his current respectability. He greets people with grins and backslaps, jerks of his chin, less unaffected than he seemed addressing work colleagues. Almost, he slides back into his high-school persona—the 09’er general who dictated popularity, who slashed tires and started shit when his judgments were questioned. But there’s a watchful tension to the set of his shoulders, and he glances left frequently to make sure she’s beside him. That, more than words, convinces her there’s danger.

They take an indirect path to the cluster by the boulders; Logan accepts a shot en route, which he tosses back, unhesitating. Cracking his neck, he meditatively surveys the throng, then coughs to get her attention as a gap opens.

“Guy holding court at the center,” he murmurs, indicating a ropily-buff Asian man with longish hair and ratty swim trunks. “That’s Bodie Chang, he was a year ahead of us at Neptune High. You remember?”

Veronica nods, watching Bodie gesture lazily from his semi-reclined position. Watching the crowd guffaw when he speaks, soak up his every word. “He’s come a long way since I interviewed him for the school paper. I remember Chang being shy.”

“He’s one of the top twenty-five surfers in the world, now.” Logan shoulders aside a drunk dude-bro to attain the inner sanctum. “In this place, he’s King.”

She opens her mouth to reply; but Dick Casablancas erupts from a log like the Ghost of Shitty Memories past, and drapes a wasted arm around her partner-in-crime. “Lo-GAN!” he shouts, like Logan’s not next to him. “Mr. Echolls in the house, now the party can START!”

“Enticing ladies again with the scents of puke and Jagermeister, I see.” Logan shoves Dick off, not without affection. “I thought you weren’t coming tonight, dude. Something about college cheerleaders and a hot tub?”

“They had emergency PRACTICE.” Dick accompanies a raspberry with a thumbs-down. “Seriously, how much do you need to rehearse waving pom-poms? It’s not like anybody looks at the props. Hey, who’s the wahine?” He squints, attempting focus. “Nice boobs, looks sort of familiar. Maybe I’ve seen her in a por…oh, holy SHIT! Dude, why the FUCK did you bring V…”

“Hey ECHOLLS!” a voice calls, mercifully drowning out Dick’s fit. Logan spreads a palm across V’s back to steer her--towards Bodie Chang, his summoner, and the makeshift royal throne. The King of Black’sBeach looks them both over impassively. “Thought you were too busy for our modest shindigs these days, man.”

Logan shrugs, nonchalant, but shakes the proffered hand. “You know how it goes,” he says, easily. ”All that money to spend, all those waves to ride. Plus too much temptation here to drink to excess. My body’s a fine-tuned machine.”

“I can respect that,” Bodie says, with a faint smile that reminds Veronica forcefully of Agent Morris. “Looks like maybe you’ve had other distractions lately, too. Who’s your date?”

“This,” Logan says, pairing a smile with a warning glance, “Is Veronica Mars.”

Then he snakes an arm unexpectedly around her waist. His hand finds the gap in her makeshift sarong, cups her hip; he pulls her flush against his side and adds, “My girlfriend.”

[the-archetype-of-civilization]

THIS IS ALL OPINION, YOU DON’T HAVE TO LISTEN TO WHAT I HAVE TO SAY IF YOU DON’T LIKE IT.

ALSO, SPOILERS FOR MANY THINGS AHEAD.  READ AT YOUR OWN RISK.

I think there are many reasons why people love villains so much.  Some because they identify their problems with themselves, or understand their motives to a reasonable extent.  Some because they just enjoy a good villain with evil intent to ruin the order set in a universe.  But one thing brings almost all of it together that solidifies both arguments for a villain that needs to be explored and understood more in order for villains to truly feel like villains and inspire the fear that they create: proof, a show of strength.

There are many different villains I could describe that fit the bill to each parts of what makes a good villain.  One that I believe many reasonably understand and agree with in terms of villainy is the MCU character Killmonger, a tragic character forced to live under the weight of being orphaned by the very people he was born into, and realizing the true extent of the racism bred all around the world.  Though, in my opinion, his actions were underwhelming in terms of the fear he wanted to create.  While he did display his strength in defeating T’Challa single-handedly and almost created a genocidal raid across the globe, there wasn’t enough screen time with him to truly show just how much of an imposing threat he was (killing civilians does not count, it’s an easy way out for them).  A menace requires fear instilled from consequence.  If you build up a villain to do something monumental and with tons of repercussions and stop it at the last minute where everything is peachy keen, his imposing-ness is null despite any of the speeches he (convincingly) makes.  Ultron is a villain I think that I think is in a similar vein, but very close to being a true villain in my eyes because the dude was literally about to destroy Earth with a hand-made meteor and that was a sight to behold.  But, despite having a charming(?) personality for a robot that’s supposed to display overblown (not subtle or underwhelming) cynical, nihilistic, and misanthropic tendencies (and yes, that is a very big gripe of mine as a fan of Ultron from the comics!), Ultron didn’t do much in his time to show how villainous he was aside from killing off Quicksilver (which wasn’t much of an impact considering that it was his first time appearing on the main screen and was killed off right then and there.  It’s more of a shock for the movie industry than it is in terms of story).  Also, that movie design was absolutely hideous!  His robot army design was perfect, but his main design completely goes against who he is!  He’s not supposed to look more human, he’s supposed to be a robot that hates humans!  He shouldn’t look like them with fucking teeth and pupils!

Those last two were hard to find at the top of my head, but for these villains it’s pretty easy to find.  There are plenty of villains that can create monumental and horrifying destruction, but still be underwhelming in terms of personality.  While they don’t have to necessarily be agreeable or even have understandable motives, personality is what drives the character across.  The standard “I’m evil because I’m evil” could work as long as they have the flair for it.  Darth Vader fits the mark as a terrifying villain with a “evil” personality but gets away with it by being a tragic character in his own right.  Exdeath from Final Fantasy V I believe fits this bill rather well considering the amount of destruction he causes in the world, but has an underwhelming personality of “I WANT TO DESTROY EVERYTHING BECAUSE I’M EVIL,” even thought he’s my personal favorite FF villain.  But sometimes it’s okay to have a standard villain of being evil for the sake of being evil if the actions that they do are monumental to the plot.  But, this is just a personal opinion of mine.  Kefka and Sephiroth can be argued to be great FF villains, creating mass chaos and killing important characters with evil intent and ruthless personalities.

And then, there are ones that do absolutely neither.  Snoke, having an underwhelming personality and no threats to show for it (the Starkiller base represents the First Order, not Snoke himself personally).  This, unfortunately, goes the same way for the Night King in Game of Thrones.  An interesting and fearsome character and exudes fear from his mere appearance, shows little to nothing about how fearsome he is.  Despite being the brains for the White Walkers, he himself doesn’t do anything monumental or show the personal fear that he himself could instill regardless of his army.  A villain is only imposing by himself when there’s no one to help him.  If he can get the job done himself, he’s sure to be feared.  The Night King hasn’t succeeded in that.  Despite him making an attack at Hardhome, killing one dragon and weaponizing it on the Wall and at Winterfell (briefly, I should say), he doesn’t show anything that he can personally do that would create fear when it’s just him and with no army.  Other than raising people from the dead, we haven’t even seen him fight anyone!  Nothing that shows how he can personally hold his own in a fight.  And I’m sure some can argue that maybe he doesn’t care or need it, but why focus on him at all then?  Why go through the effort to make us fear the White Walkers (a foe that EVERYONE fears) and find the leader that gets killed so quickly and so easily without even making people suffer the consequences of crossing him?  The Golden Company was something far worse, however!  A so-called “fearsome” sell-sword faction completely annihilated in one episode of their physical introduction?!  Bullshit!  There are plenty of villains here that I could mention that can’t achieve fear or motive here, but I’ll save it for these two examples considering that these two were the ones I was very frustrated with.

But, there are two villains that I can think of right now that fulfill motive and fear right off the bat.  The main one (that I’m sure many of you saw coming) is the MCU’s version of Thanos.  No doubt, someone that has an understandably flawed and warped sense of destiny and justice, believing genocide of an entire universe to be “merciful” and saving it from destruction.  It’s absolute brilliance, especially compared to Thanos in the comics, that really fulfills the role of “the Mad TItan” more than the MCU version.  And that’s not to count just how much chaos he has created over the course of 22 films.  Despite being seen in small cameos and brief snippets and mentions, Thanos was someone to be feared in the MCU that many people were eagerly awaiting to see finally revealed in Infinity War.  And he achieved it in spades.  A villain that is absolutely ruthless with his enemies, despite being understanding and honorable about their goals. Imagine beating up the Hulk in 1-on-1 combat so much that he’s not angry anymore and refuses to be.  That’s a feat in itself.  And even while utilizing the Infinity Gauntlet, he can hold his own in a battle against 7 of the greatest heroes in the universe that almost got it off of him!   He pulled a fucking moon down on a planet right after, too!  And the coup de grace of it all was of course the snap heard throughout the universe: the Decimation.  And he succeeded in his mission and rested, like he said he would.  He wasn’t evil because he wanted to be or was vengeful about what happened: he believed himself to be a savior, someone that was willing to do what others wouldn’t.  And even without the Infinity Gauntlet, the guy won’t quit and is still ridiculously strong in a fight with just a double bladed sword in Endgame!  A perfect movie villain rarely shows itself, and Thanos was definitely one of those and I hope we see more that follow in his footsteps.

The secondary villain that I think of (that not many would understand) is Ardyn Izunia, or Ardyn Lucis Caelum, from Final Fantasy XV.  Hajime Tabata aimed to make FFXV’s villain to be better than Kefka and Sephiroth combined.  Now, that’s a gamble.  Considering how memorable and iconic both villains are, it would be very hard to accomplish something like that.  But, in my eyes, I believe he did.  Ardyn is a very tragic character, a Christ-like figure that wanted to cure the people of the land from the Starscourge that plagued them.  He would absorb the disease and cure them, unlike his brother Somnus that would kill them mercilessly.  After his fiancee was killed by Somnus himself, branded as a traitor and demonized by the people that he cured, denied ascension to the throne by the Crystal, and abandoned by the Astrals that were by his side.  Fueled by hatred for his betrayal on almost all fronts (including his fiancee, he believes), he seeks to end the Lucis bloodline and destroy the world that the Astrals created out of vengeance.  Hey, if you found out that you were simply a tool used for the gods to fix the shit that THEY fucked up themselves, you’d be pissed too (*cough*Noctis*cough*).  And boy did he show them what for.  He becomes chief commander of Nifleheim’s military, including weaponizing people as daemons, using Magitek to ascend to military supremacy, and seizing all of the crystals in the world until all point to the last one located inside Insomnia.  Not only that, but he kills Noctis’ childhood sweetheart and he brings the entire world to ruin for years to come while Noctis was inside the Crystal.  Ardyn basically did what both Kefka and Sephiroth achieved individually: bring the world to ruin and kill a pivotal character/love interest, respectively.  And he can seriously hold his own in a fight, able to use the same powers that Noctis can easily.  He even used Ifrit (an infernal Astral!) as a puppet!  That level of hatred for a bloodline is something palpable.

That’s why it’s so important to show your intent just as much as it is to say it.  Both go hand in hand and it’s what creates arguments and discussions like these, so we are able to analyze and study villains as integral and important characters in entertainment.  And to discover the darker sides of humanity that lives and resides within all of us, so we can better learn ourselves and how to control the demons inside all of us.

Honorable mention: With the new Star Wars movie coming out soon, I’m super hyped to see the Knights of Ren making a return!  J.J. definitely did an awesome move by bringing them back, and there’s something so appealing about them.  Something about organized personal goons for the main baddie is a concept that I always love to compare and explore.  It’s why I loved the Praetorian Guard from The Last Jedi so much.  Same for the Nazgul from The Lord of the Rings/The Hobbit: Battle of the Five Armies, the Black Guard from Tron: Legacy, the K-Tron units from Valerian and the City of a Thousand Planets, and the Heavensward from Final Fantasy XIV.  Despite them not having much screen time, or little to no dialogue whatsoever, the times they do appear, their main objective is to eliminate the threats before them with extreme prejudice.  Their main concept overall is action with little dialogue and achieving the simple goal that the viewer can already assume, and that’s something that I absolutely adore.  Costume designs are also a huge plus, because goddamn do they all look good!

[gold41pruitt-blog]

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