#and he gave me this look that i understood from my own time in retail to mean 'thank you for being fucking normal'

[taffywabbit]

i have lots of flaws but i do at least take a fair amount of comfort knowing that, if i were a customer NPC in a fast food/retail management game, i would be one of the chill early-level ones that can wait a super long time before they start getting impatient, and you breathe a sigh of a relief when you see them show up in a harder level

#buny text #was standing in line at popeyes today and they were SUPER busy and the staff couldn't even take my order for a while #and the guy at the till was like 'so sorry for the wait we'll get to you soon i promise' and i was like hey no worries 👍 #and he gave me this look that i understood from my own time in retail to mean 'thank you for being fucking normal' #there was nobody else behind me cuz i showed up at the very end of the lunch rush i think #and in that moment i just pictured like. a lil timer wheel above my head that was still green and mostly full lmao #i love being nice to retail workers it's so fun

[the-firebird69]

And it's a myriad of things happening and it is confusing one is Tommy f is out of control and it's not going to handle it the second is the warlocks are not going to get a handle on it and just might realize that and like some like bjA realized that the kaiju or killing them off. And that's not the only reason it's because it's a plan and it's a main plan and he doesn't realize it's doing it no I think that he is probably got an idea that it could be happening and it will it will expose aliens and briefly but for real and it is part of a master plan of the max and others who brought into it and he's singing the song because he knows he was going in and he sang with acapella before the saga begin and he was already collecting ships and it negates what time he f is doing who did not do very well he did some proofs but hardly anything for the public because he has been in seclusion for so long and they said in the movie and he is the recluse mobster and it's a movie called tunes he comes out of seclusion and all he does is some strange cartoon fighting and it's not what people need it's saying that they're not real when they are and he didn't watch it he wants to own it and run it all and people are saying that's not fair and a great expense argue their point and pretty much almost gave up and Jason stood up and said I can't take it anymore and he knows what he's doing and he might not make anything but he wants people to know what he's doing and he put a dress on his bed when he left the first time at Castle and he paid me back for food he took and I understood he needed it but I need to and I'm trying things. So there you goes he's doing a job that ghwp would take and do and it's that level.

Zues

I commend my husband for saying this and though we have angles that might be different or same different we are doing this on purpose too a little bit and it's a parallel but nobody was doing it but you simply must and if you all become greedy assholes and kill each other then what's the point of you living anyways and we've seen you team up and everything else

Hera

Respected for doing it Jason and we know that you activate the animal side and you and fired up your greed to get it done but wow this is going to be intense I have never seen anything like this in my life and I know what it's talking about cuz I've seen some of them running around it's certainly don't look human and your people are suffering so I see what you're saying you're doing it on purpose and your signs of the house in Port Charlotte and I was there and I saw him doing it and your friend here saw it and he's mentioning it because you deserve recognition for it and Trump we don't know what you're doing you're ignoring everything saying nothing exists and you're being a huge a****** to everybody and you're practically harming our friend here everyday over and over because you're saying you caused it all and it's not true at all we need you to shut up

Daniel

I started a fight with Tommy f and I got my ass kicked and it started a while ago and he won't let me do anything at all and I can't stand it anymore and people are beating on me cuz I'm being unfair that's true what time the answer was pushing me all over the place and he doesn't have it and he never did and I don't think he even knows about aliens he's going to be shocked as s*** and so am I cuz I don't get it either

Trump

No s*** you're stupid you see us mutate you see his retail like madness for the most part and changing some that doesn't look human and you can't think oh maybe it would stick like when we became humans from primates I mean good Lord and these are the people that did it get the f*** out of my face lady he says all the time and is acting like one of us it makes people confused it's supposed to but you're an idiot I mean go get a shark you think a shark is a person always the animals come to your house and you can't figure it out

Sarah

That was one hell of a toad I'd tell your toes like just a sick frog and that guy was juiced up LOL jumps right at him and pissed all over the place I can see it on video almost right into him too he talked a little to the right just in case he was peeing I think she's stupid idiot it looked over some moving but really what an idiot there right there that's what I have to fight

Hera

I'll explain this he jumps right by you in order to confuse you and make it so you're not ready to do anything it's kind of a weird reaction and some animals are programmed to it does feel predators off sometimes cuz I think they might have something or they're sick or and that's what they think and yeah he's sick I think that could be it it's kind of weird he seen the toad before. This jackass is banging around next door and Jason saw what he was destroying and he's breaking the place again and Stan got the Note and he's going to court tomorrow that might explain him being out of here lol

Thor Freya

Lol

Stan

Yeh yeh no no it's all this other stuff like Monday

Sherry

#Youtube

[wlwmarvelenthusiast]

More Than A Friend

Summary: A weekend trip with Carol leads you to realize you might like her a little more than you'd thought.

Pairing: Carol Danvers x Reader

Warnings: language

Word Count: 6,194

You crept into the bar. It was a rowdy place, even this early in the evening. Your eyes scanned the crowd, taking in all the different people that were scattered throughout the room. The football game was playing on the TV, but unfortunately, it wasn't really your sport. Finally, your eyes landed on a blonde sitting at the bar. You moved toward her, a smirk on your face. You didn't even bother to slide into the seat next to her.

Your hand touched her hip and your lips were right next to her ear when you spoke. "What's a beautiful thing like you doing all alone here?"

She startled a little, whipping to face you. When she saw you, though, she smacked you away, an unamused expression taking over the surprised look she'd had a minute ago. You slid onto the stool next to her, eyes watching as the bartender held up a single finger to indicate he'd be over to you in a moment. You only nodded in acknowledgment before turning back to the girl beside you, the smirk still on your lips.

"You're an idiot, you know that?" She rolled her eyes.

"Come off it, Care-bear, you love me."

"Christ, I hate when you call me that."

"I apologize, oh Captain, my captain."

The bartender arrived and prevented her from retaliating. You didn't even bother looking back at her as you ordered your drink of choice, glancing up at the football game that you didn't care about in order to not look at Carol. She finally snorted and bumped her shoulder against yours. It made you look back at her, unable to keep a smile from forming on your face when she gave you a hearty wink. She laughed.

"How was work?"

You shrugged. "People are idiots."

When you were sixteen, you'd worked a retail job where you'd learned just how stupid people really were. You'd learned that fully-grown adults had nothing better in their lives to do than yell at teenaged, minimum wage workers during their spare time for nothing more than a minor inconvenience. When you'd become an Avenger, you thought that would stop. You were incorrect. You might not have been a teenaged retail worker anymore, but people found a reason to lose their temper anyway- even right after you'd saved their life.

"That good, huh?" She chuckled.

"Are people nicer on other planets, Care-bear? Take me with you?"

"They're not, no," Carol huffed, sipping from her glass. "And the drinks don't taste as good."

You wondered what she was drinking that she seemed to be enjoying so much. It was colourful, and had, at this point, piqued your interest. You reached out and snatched from where it sat in front of her on the bar. You sniffed it first. It was something fruity, that was all you could figure. Finally, you dared raise the glass to your lips. The second the liquid touched your tongue you felt like you might overdose on sugar and sweetness.

"Oh, my God, Carol!" You exclaimed, setting the drink back down on the bar top and sliding it to her. "What the hell is that?"

"She got it extra sweet," the bartender said as he walked by. "Your friend's got a sugar addiction."

It didn't seem to bother her at all. While you felt you could puke from the sugar content alone, she was sipping it happily. You rolled your eyes at her, reaching for your own drink, much preferring the taste of it. Carol turned to you suddenly, the straw still between her lips. You watched as she lowered it back down, using the same straw to stir the drink around, the ice clinking off the side of the glass as she did. She sipped it again.

"What's our weekend plans, then?" Carol asked finally.

"Who says I have plans with you?"

"Oh, please. You practically begged me to come stay on Earth for a weekend."

"I did absolutely no such thing."

You absolutely did do that. Carol was away from Earth more often than not and you missed her. It wasn't like it was a crime to. So, you'd phoned her up and asked her over and over to come spend just one weekend on Earth with you. She'd finally agreed on the eighth ask, and now here you sat; on the right of the girl you'd missed so dearly, teasing her relentlessly about whatever that abomination was swirling around in her glass.

"We're taking my new car on a little road trip," you finally gave, sipping your drink. "Music, fast-food, and deep talks on the interstate."

"Snacks?"

"Snacks too," you promised with a chuckle. "And we can get a nice motel room or pitch a tent at night. Whichever you please."

You had to laugh at the smile that had crept over her face. The way she giggled in excitement, you had to wonder if it'd just been too long since her last day off or if the alcohol had gotten to her already. She waved the bartender lever as she finished hers. He placed a new one in front of her, and she thanked him quickly, bringing it close and immediately bringing the straw between her lips. You wondered whether the sugar or alcohol content would hospitalize her quicker.

"So, when do we leave?" She chirped.

"In the morning. Don't drink too much. You'll get hungover and I want to actually have fun."

She stuck her tongue out at you. You rolled your eyes in response, finishing your own drink and then declining another. You didn't want to be hungover when you were the one driving the two of you around. The bartender brought you a pop instead. You sipped on it, watching a bar-goer stumbled over with a drunk grin on his face and tapped Carol on the shoulder. He said something you didn't quite hear, but you saw Carol nod. He took her hands and dragged her onto the dance floor. You brought her drink toward you.

Carol was a flirt. She always had been. She was a flirt with you, your teammates, and strangers. She was also gay. This dance with this guy didn't mean much to her. You weren't sure if it even meant much to him. You couldn't be sure that he'd even remember this dance. He was absolutely wasted, and it wasn't even midnight. Regardless, he seemed to be enjoying it. His eyes travelled up and down Carol's body and you squeezed the glass in your hand a little tighter. You were protective of her, despite knowing she could absolutely hold her own.

When the song finished, she winked at him, retreating back to your spot at the bar. She finished up her drink and then insisted the two of you head back to your place and that you were right: she didn't want to be nursing a hangover while you were supposed to be having a good time. You paid the bartender and then linked your arm with hers, leading her out the door and onto the streets. She glanced up at the tall buildings around her. A smile had formed on her face.

"You don't appreciate how beautiful this place is."

You glanced up at the glowing buildings that towered above you and marvelled, for a moment, at the soft light that radiated off them. Your gaze was tugged downward, though, at a rustling noise. You were snapped back into the reality of your city as you watched a rat scurry along the curb of the sidewalk in the direction opposite you. You chuckled at that, motioning to it as you looked up to catch Carol's bright gaze.

"Surely some of those planets are far more beautiful than this."

She shrugged. "Some, maybe. Some are worse. Some are kind of alike to this. This has always been my favourite, though."

You might have understood that if Carol had taken the time to visit the actual beautiful parts of the Earth. But she was always in the city. She'd never gone to stare in amazement at a waterfall or glance at towering mountains. She had never seen the true beauties of this Earth, and you promised in that moment to change that fact. If she thought New York City was beautiful, she would be blown off her feet by the things you showed her.

"One day, Carol, I'll show you the actual beautiful things on this Earth."

"You're pretty beautiful yourself."

You smacked her. That was her flirty side coming out once again. It didn't mean anything. It never had. So, you wondered what that strange flutter in your chest was when she said the words. You ignored it, passing it off as a longing for a meaningful relationship. You hadn't had one of those in a while now. You probably just wanted someone to say those words to you and mean it. You made a mental note to sign up for an online dating site after the weekend had passed. It was too hard to meet people in your line of work without them.

"Yeah, I know," was all you gave in response.

When you glanced over at her, she had a grin on her face.

It wasn't long until you'd reached your apartment building. You smiled at the front desk as you entered the lobby and immediately made for the elevator. You pressed the button to the seventh floor and waited patiently for the doors. You knew Carol was suppressing a squeal of glee when they arrived. She usually just flew everywhere. Using simple inventions like this one had always gotten her more excited than the average person. To anyone else, an elevator was just a boring elevator.

"Can I do it?" She asked as you pulled out your key.

Carol really was just like a child, in a sense. Everything was so advanced out in space that these were the things she enjoyed doing. You pointed out the bronze key and watched her run ahead. She practically skipped the distance to your apartment door. She pushed the key into the lock and turned it, glancing back at you and smiling widely when the door pushed open. You smiled affectionately as you took the key back from her.

She may not have visited Earth overly often, but every time she did, she visited your apartment. Resultantly, she knew her way around. She knew, as well, that you didn't mind in the slightest if she made herself at home. She slid her shoes off and jumped onto the couch, pulling the blanket down over top of her and snuggling into it. You actually took a photo of the sight before you moved into the room behind her, lifting her legs, sitting on the couch, and then dropping them back over your lap.

"Can we watch a movie?" Carol asked, pleading gaze turning to you.

You showed her the remote you'd been reaching for. "Already on it, Captain Danvers."

"I take it back," she giggled, tossing her head back so that it hit the armrest. "That's worse. You can call me-"

"Aw, my Care-Bear!" You laughed, shifting your position so you could throw your arms around her shoulders.

Carol grunted at the impact against her torso. Once you settled, though, she breathed a little easier. You were both squished against one side of the couch, now, but the closeness was nothing new to you. You still had the remote in hand, and aimed it at the TV, managing to get it to Netflix. You flicked on a random horror movie, setting the remote back down on the coffee table in front of you. You nestled back into the cushions.

It had always amused you how jumpy Carol got when she watched horror movies. She was a literal superhero that fought literal aliens all the night and day and yet a ghost jumping out of a darkened corridor had her cringing away from the TV screen and pulling the blanket further up her body as if in an attempt to protect her. She would always adamantly deny it if you ever brought it up later. You would never show her the picture you had of her, fuzzy blue blanket pulled all the way up to her nose, eyes wide, as she watched The Conjuring. She would delete it off your phone as you slept.

Today, though, her nerves seemed to be calmed somewhat by the cup of tea she had clasped between her hands. She looked entirely content, sitting cross-legged on the couch with that same fuzzy blanket draped over her lap and a grey, ceramic mug warming her palms. The alcohol had clearly gotten to her a little, you realized, as you watched her eyelids droop every once in a while. The corner of your mouth tilted upward ever so slightly. She was wide awake a moment later.

It was a sudden jump scare. Even being half asleep, Carol was still paying attention. So, when the TV boomed and there was a flash and a scream, she jumped. The tea that she'd been holding in her lap sloshed over the edges, a large amount of liquid soaking into the couch cushions. You were out of your seat in an instant, reaching for the remote to pause. Carol was apologizing profusely, jumping to her feet and following you to the kitchen.

"It's okay, Carol. It's fine," you chuckled, wetting a dish towel and grabbing some paper towels. "Hey, it's fine. Really. Chill out."

Carol seemed hesitant to do that. When you lightheartedly flicked the wet towel at her, though, she finally smiled taking the paper towel out of your hand and heading back to the living room, pressing the paper towel into the couch and absorbing as much of the liquid as she could. When she'd finished, you used the wet rag to clean the beverage out. As you tossed the paper towel away and threw the dishrag into the kitchen sink, you stood back and took a look at the large wet spot on the couch.

"Guess we're moving to my room, then. Let's go, Care-Bear."

Carol nodded. She trod behind you into the bedroom, where you flopped onto the bed. She was lagging behind and you waved her onward to hurry her up. She finally jumped onto the bed and sat next to you, sliding her legs underneath the covers. You turned on the small TV in your room and resumed the movie you'd been watching. In the soft comfort of the bed, though, it seemed the tug for sleep was greater. Carol's eyes finally fluttered shut and she lay down against the pillows. You chuckled, turning off the movie.

You, unlike your friend, hadn't fallen asleep involuntary. You were able to head to the bathroom and brush your teeth before yawning tiredly and deciding to join. You padded back into the room, climbed under the covers, shut off the lights, and lay your head onto your own pillow. You smiled once at Carol's sleeping figure before you shut your eyes, letting sleep take you.

*

As hard as you tried to convince her, you weren't able to get Carol to stick her head back inside the sunroof. You weren't sure how to breeze was so exhilarating to her. The superhuman could fly faster than your car was going right now. The wind in her hair had to be a familiar feeling at this point. Plus, there were no laws against flying above the interstate to feel the wind in your hair. There were, however, laws about standing with your entire torso stuck out the roof of the car.

You'd given up a while ago. If she fell out, she'd be just fine. If she got you a ticket? Oh, there would be serious hell to pay. She'd agreed to that already. You'd honestly be surprised, though, if she did get ticketed. It'd be quite a sight to see: a measly police officer ticketing the Human-Kree Hybrid superhero. That sight alone might actually be worth the fine you would have to pay. By the time she'd pulled her head back in, though, blonde hair windblown and a smile plastered to her face, you'd yet to see a single cop.

"Have fun?" You asked, doing up the sunroof.

"Absolutely. You should try."

"Do you know how to drive?" You scoffed.

"I can fly a ship."

"Yeah, I'm sure UFO controls are much different than cars so I'm gonna have to politely ask you to stay the hell away from my car."

Carol only stuck her tongue out at you. She still didn't do her seatbelt up yet. She twisted her body so that she could reach into the back seat. You turned back to the road, but when you shot a second glance at her a few seconds later, she was popping open a can of Pringles with a large grin on her face. She bit down onto a chip with a giggle before turning the can to you. You reached into it with one hand and took a small handful of them, setting them down on the centre console for easier access.

"Where are we staying tonight?" Carol asked through a mouthful of chips.

"A campground up in a small town in Ontario," you hummed. "It's still a good few hours away. I'd ask if you wanted to stop for food, but I'd guess you've filled up on snacks."

She dug through her backpack. "Do I need this?"

She held up the passport you'd made her get last time the two of you had headed up to Toronto. Despite the fact that she really wasn't a citizen of the United States... or even of Earth, you'd managed to get S.H.I.E.L.D. to make you an exception for Carol. It was the perks of being an Avenger, and a close friend of Nick Fury, you supposed. To answer her question, you simply nodded your head as you reached for the Gatorade in your cup holder. She stuck the papers back into her bag.

"So, are you seeing anyone?"

The question almost made you spit the red beverage onto the steering wheel. It wasn't that you and Carol had never talked about it. She was one of your closest friends, after all. She was the first one you'd called when you'd realized your feelings for your last girlfriend, and she was the first one you'd called when you'd broken up. Carol wasn't someone you didn't talk about your love life with. It was just that it was completely and entirely out of the blue. It didn't help that the answer was still no, even after the long period of time since she'd last asked it.

You'd tried to assure yourself that you were just busy with work. It wasn't a lie. You'd been busy as hell ever since Loki's sceptre had inexplicably gone missing after the Battle in New York. But it wasn't just that, you knew full well. Something seemed to be wrong with your brain, or maybe your heart. Maybe it was just that your standards were practically in the clouds, but no one seemed attractive to you anymore. Not even the girl Natasha had tried to set you up with (and you were well convinced that Natasha only knew attractive people).

"Not at the moment, no," you finally admitted. "You?"

"On-and-off," she shrugged. "Just a girl from a planet called Xandar."

A pang of jealousy struck your chest. You were carving something- anything. You would've given anything even for something on-and-off just about now. Had it really been that long? You could hardly believe you were jealous of her. It wasn't like you to be jealous of something someone else had. You were supposed to be happy for her, not sulking over your own lack of a love life... or sex life. You forced a smile at her, wishing it could be real.

"Oh, yeah? Tell me about her."

"Not too much to tell," Carol said, biting down on a potato chip. "She's cute, funny, sweet. A little younger than me, but most people are," she chuckled as she glanced over at you. You plastered a phone smile back onto your lips and forced a laugh from your chest. "Her name's Alya."

You almost grumbled, but managed to bite your tongue on time. You resorted to ripping open a packet of gummy bears in order to keep your mouth full and therefore unable to make any snarky comments. Carol didn't seem to notice that, only reaching over and grabbing a green bear out of the bag. Though you might have been a little frustrated, you let her. It wasn't her fault that you were touch-starved and desperate.

"You know, we could spend this trip trying to find you a girlfriend," Carol grinned, tossing a candy into the air and catching it in her mouth.

"No," you denied immediately. You didn't need for her to see how weird your head was being right now. You were certain there was no one she could find that would be able to snap you out of this strange state of no one being attractive to you, yet craving someone. "I'm not looking for a girlfriend in Ontario."

"What's wrong with girls from Ontario?" Carol teased.

She'd been to Ontario once before. She'd pointed out that, though they may have dressed a little different and talked a little different, the girls from Ontario were just as attractive as the girls from New York. You'd had to point out that, at the time, she'd had a girlfriend. With Carol's ogling at girls on Earth, clearly, she and the girlfriend hadn't been working out well. They'd broken up two weeks later, leaving them both a little hurt, but not beyond repair. Even still, they saw each other for lunch or for a drink, but just as friends. It was admirable; the respect they had retained for one another.

"Nothing is wrong with girls from Ontario," you huffed. "I'm just not in the mood. This is supposed to be our weekend."

"What if I want to spend our weekend finding you a girl?"

"I don't. Drop it," you finally snapped.

Immediately guilt rushed to settle in the pit of your stomach. You readjusted your grip on the steering wheel as your gaze refused to leave the road in front of you. You didn't want to glance over at the frown that had surely taken the place of that infectious smile you loved so dearly. You definitely didn't want to look at it knowing that you were the cause of it. Carol was so incredibly joyful all the time and that was one of the things you loved about her. To be the one who had taken that joy from her, even momentarily, broke your heart.

"I'm sorry," you muttered.

She didn't answer that.

You attempted to swallow the lump in your throat as you tried to focus on driving instead of picturing the frown that was probably tugging at each of Carol's features. You wished you could actually physically kick yourself for what you'd done. She didn't deserve you snapping at her like that. She hadn't done anything wrong. You were just being pissy for reasons you weren't sure even you quite understood. You finally turned to her, but she was looking out the window.

"Look, Carol-"

"Hey, don't worry. Sorry I pushed."

You didn't deserve Carol Susan Jane Danvers one single bit. She deserved more than the world and you swore right then you'd work every moment to give that to her. Despite how you'd treated her for reasons she couldn't possibly have understood, when she turned to you, she was still smiling. As always, her smile put a smile on your face too. You turned away from those soft brown eyes to glance back at the road in front of you.

"It's okay. I'm sorry I snapped. I just... it's a long story, Care-Bear."

"We've got a long ride ahead of us," she tried.

"I don't know that I'm feeling like talking about it right this second," you admitted.

She seemed to accept that. You felt her touch your arm with her hand. Warmth seemed to rush from her touch, up your arms, and into your chest. How one person could instill such comfort into you amazed you. She said a few soft words to you that you didn't quite hear, but you felt you might not need to. You knew they were words of comfort. Just that knowledge was enough to put a smile onto your face. Your eyes flickered from her to the road.

"No problem," Carol chimed. Then, without missing a single beat, she changed the subject. "Hey, which bag did you put the Fuzzy Peaches in?"

"The green backpack."

Just like that, it was easy again. Carol didn't let you linger on just how upset you were for more than a second. She practically dived into the back seat for the backpack, reappearing with the orange package in her hand. She plopped back down into her seat, still refused to put her seatbelt on, and ripped the package open. She reached out and turned up the music when one of your favourite songs came on. You wondered if she knew that.

*

"No! That piece goes over here!" You insisted.

Carol frowned and handed you the long pole.

Pitching a tent with an alien who hadn't even known was a tent was, up until five minutes ago, was not easy. She'd practically rolled herself up like a burrito in the rain fly right after nearly putting the stakes directly through the floor to pin the tent down. You'd been guiding her, preventing any damage from coming to it. She was listening intently, making sure she did everything exactly how you said. She stuck the peg through the guy line and looked at you.

"Like that?"

"Yeah. Perfect. I think we're just about done, Care-Bear."

At that, she unzipped the door, diving through it into the empty tent. You reached into the trunk of your car, throwing the many pillows, blankets, and sleeping bags through behind her, not caring much where they landed. When you finally shut the door and ducked into the tent, Carol was beneath the large pile, peering out from where only the top half of her face was visible. You had to chuckle, grabbing one of the blankets and pulling it over her face.

Carol insisted she set up. She had you sit aside by the door, munching happily on a small bowl of popcorn as you watched. She carefully unzipped the sleeping bags and lay them down on the floor, putting the pillows atop them, and then the two comforters stacked on top of each other on top of that. When she finally finished, she gestured proudly to her completed setup. You raised an eyebrow.

"We both sleeping there?"

She nodded. "It's cold."

You had to give her that. You were practically shivering just from waiting for her to finish. The sun had dipped beyond the horizon at this point, the darkness of night did nothing to heat up the air around you. You clambered under the blankets, careful not to drop any of the popcorn you still held. You placed it next to you, letting Carol reach over and grab some as she, too, climbed into the makeshift bed. She popped a piece into her mouth.

"Up to talking about it yet?"

It was a genuine question. Carol wasn't pushy. That was something you could tell by her tone. She had waited patiently and was continuing to wait for you to be ready to talk about what you needed to talk about. She didn't want you bottling it up, but she didn't want to pressure you. She was able to do that. You glanced down at the red blanket that covered your legs, pondering her question for a moment. Then you nodded your head yes.

"I just haven't felt myself recently," you shrugged. "I would like to get out there and find someone, no doubt. Recently, though, it's like my standards are unmeetable. No one seems even remotely appealing to me."

"No one at all?"

"Nat tried to set me up with her Russian model friend," you said, turning to Carol with a grin finally on your lips.

"Nothing?" Carol said, an exaggerated amount of shock on her face. "You must be broken."

You shoved her. She chuckled; the offensive action having done nothing. She was inhumanly strong. If you'd decided to punch her, you likely would've broken your hand against her. She shoved you back, only lightly, so you moved a few inches away from her. She stuck her hand back into the popcorn bowl as you shuffled back into your place beside her. She was chewing thoughtfully, and you didn't dare interrupt her with the very focused expression on her face.

"Do you already like someone? That usually takes away the appeal of anyone else."

You stopped to think about that. You knew that could be the case. In eleventh grade when you'd had a crush on Adelaide Artenbaker, you'd suddenly failed to find anyone else attractive at all. Of course, Adelaide had eventually rejected you on account that she was straight as an arrow. It wasn't malicious. She'd actually given you a kiss on the cheek and assured you that, if she discovered wasn't, she'd let you know. It had made you laugh.

Now, you had to wonder if there was anyone that was making your stomach flip and making you dismiss anyone else. It wasn't the Avengers. You'd been in the changing room with Natasha, the Black fucking Widow, two days ago, and she'd strutted up to you in nothing but her bra and underwear. You hadn't even bat an eyelash as she'd asked you if you wanted to get some Chinese food after the mission (but you had said yes, of course).

"Yeah. Maybe."

Her words had knocked some serious sense into you. You definitely had a crush on someone, and it had definitely been impairing your ability to get out on a date. That someone was around so little, though, that you hadn't realized right away just how you felt for them. Maybe if she visited Earth a little more often, you'd have realized why you blushed so deeply when she'd crawled into bed with you last night or right now.

"Who is it, then?"

Carol had a girlfriend. It may have been on-again-off-again, but she had a girlfriend. You were not now, nor ever, someone who would come between that. You were going to let her be happy with someone who was making her happy and you were going to be happy for her. You plastered a smile onto your face and reached into the bowl of popcorn that sat on your lap, letting the snack cloud the feelings of jealousy that you knew now weren't jealousy of a relationship, but if Carol.

"Nat."

Carol didn't miss a single beat. "Liar."

You glared at her. "The fuck do you mean? Telling me who I do and do not like?"

"I know who has your heart right now. It isn't Nat."

This time when she reached for the popcorn, she leaned over. To support her weight, her hand came to rest on your upper thigh. You had to refrain from reacting. You sucked the inside of your cheek between your teeth, biting hard on it to suppress any sort of reaction that Carol would have noticed. It seemed to have worked. She grabbed a small handful and then backed away, the pressure of her hand disappearing from your limb.

"Yeah? Who is it, then?"

"Someone that likes you back."

"And who says Nat doesn't?"

You might have actually been offended if it weren't Carol you were talking to. You were good enough for Natasha, right? She was practically a goddess in respect to her looks, but you were something, too. Not that you liked Natasha in that way. She was a friend. Carol was the one that you cared about. Something about that sweet smile and that confidence mixed with an innocence she had after being away from Earth for so long warmed your heart every time.

"Fair," Carol admitted. "But you know, you're pretty oblivious. With all the hints I've been dropping, you'd think you'd have realized your feelings are reciprocated."

"What?"

"I like you, dumbass. More than a friend likes a friend."

Your jaw might have dropped. You coughed, choking on the popcorn that you'd been eating as you whirled to face the blonde. She had a twinkle in her eyes, and a giggle escaped her lips when she saw the expression on your face. She tossed a piece of popcorn into the air, catching it in her mouth. She chewed on it as she waited, arms crossed, for you to collect yourself. Finally, after a long drink of water, you calmed.

"Pardon?"

"You're an idiot," she mumbled.

Then she grabbed the front of your shirt and pulled you closer. You didn't fail to notice, as your lips moved against hers, that she moved the popcorn bowl so that it wouldn't spill. It seemed completely unimportant, though. You felt everything starting to melt away into Carol Danvers. Her lips were talented and kissing her felt like an intricate sport and suddenly you needed to breathe. When you pushed away, you realized what you'd done wrong.

Her feelings to you didn't matter. She had a girlfriend. Unless that fact changed, she and you didn't get to be more than your friend. You pushed her even further away. You knew she had the ability to, but she didn't resist. You backed off a little further so that your bodies were completely separated. Her eyebrows knitted together in confusion, but she didn't push. She even waited for you to speak first. Your eyes wouldn't meet hers.

"You have a girlfriend."

"I just said that to make you jealous," she scoffed.

You immediately got defensive. "I was not jealous."

"You were so!"

"Shut up."

She did. You suspected the only reason she had shut up was because she was kissing you again. It didn't matter. You were on cloud nine. You felt right again. You felt more right now than you ever had. Carol was exactly what you had needed for longer than you could figure out right then. She was clouding your thoughts and, honestly, you couldn't have cared less. You didn't want to think about anything besides how good her lips felt on yours right then.

You couldn't even find it in yourself to be mad at her for the little stunt she had pulled. You could only be glad that this so-called girlfriend wasn't actually real, and was just a part of her stupid plan. Without the girlfriend, you were free to kiss her as much as she would let you. Judging by how she was kissing you now, she wasn't going to stop you anytime soon. Her teeth grazed your bottom lip as she pulled away, not moving more than an inch from your lips, though.

The hand that clasped your shirt uncurled. She pressed her hand flat against the centre of your chest, pushing you onto your back. You had to chuckle as her knees pressed into the ground on either side of your waist. She kissed your nose once, scowling at the laughs that were beginning to bubble from your chest. You leaned up and kissed her lips for a brief moment, before using a hand to caress her cheek and tuck her hair behind her ear.

"What are you laughing at?"

"Nothing. You were right," you stated. "I'm kinda glad you were right."

"You're kind of glad? Can you imagine how stupid I'd have looked if I were wrong?" Carol laughed.

"Quite," you agreed with a nod.

You pulled her down next to you, wrapping your arms around her and feeling hers do the same to you. You pressed your forehead against hers, taking the time to admire her smiling face. She giggled a little, pecking your lips quickly. She didn't linger, though, having been preoccupied in reaching over your shoulder into the bowl of popcorn once more. She shoved a few pieces into her mouth and chewed happily.

"Care-Bear, what's more important: me or snacks?"

"You are a snack."

You gaped. "How the hell did you learn that term?"

She shrugged. "I hear things."

You rolled your eyes, pushing her away from you. She let you, reaching for her water bottle to wash down some of the salty flavour that had come off the popcorn. She offered you some water, which you accepted. When you finished and handed the bottle back to her, she pulled you close to her. Your body moved until it was flush against hers. Her torso was so warm you could've fallen asleep right then and there.

"You're more important."

Being more important than snacks, in the opinion of Carol Danvers, was just about the highest compliment you could have received.

#carol danvers #captain marvel #carol danvers fanfiction #carol danvers x reader #mcu #marvel #wlw #lesbian

[george-fabian-weasley]

if we had 5 more minutes — f. w.

Summary: You thought you could save Fred from the rumbles of falling stones; you did your best, only to be in the rumbles with him instead.

Words: 2,160 words

Warnings ⚠ : ANGST, TW: Death, TW: Battle of Hogwarts, TW: war, TW: injuries, Fred died, you died, big Pain™, I strongly suggest tissues and a dozen of comfort chocolates, I cried so you will too, Basically An Emotional Rollercoaster, Read At Your Own Risk

Disclaimer: inspired by Billie Eilish's cover of The End of The World, so... ya'll know this is going to be a painful ride. Buckle up your seatbelts and enjoy. Reblogs and Comments are Highly Appreciated! <3 p/s: reading this with the song at the background really helps with the tear pouring effect ;)

Disclaimer 2.0: i know what yall are thinking... what tf is syaf doing, posting a fic when she’s in a hiatus she just posted yesterday? Also where is mad hatter chap 5 and epilogue? well, my brain likes to conjure up ideas at very inappropriate times (like rn) so bare with me and uh i’ve been really physically and mentally exhausted from work (retail is bathshit crazy) to write the mad hatter series so idk when will i update the two chapters but i’m working on it! thank you for being patient, and im sorry for causing you guys to wait for so long, ilysm don’t kill me <3 

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The end of the world.

The Battle of Hogwarts looked like the end of the world. Curses and spells thrown left to right, different kinds of bodies found at each corner and crook, walls here and there crumbling as down as hope for freedom. And blood.

At that point of time, the pools of blood on the floor look the same; pureblood or not. Because they bleed the same anguish red.

You didn't need to see the apocalypse of the world anymore. Screw the end of Mother Earth; this battle in front of your eyes was more than enough — sadly — to be your end of the world.

“Hey,” You called, causing Fred to turn his head around to your direction, his lips etched up a smile before replying with another hey. You sat next to him, the place where George had sat before he got up and left to speak with Professor Lupin.

Evil is winning, and good is losing. But then again, what difference would it make; if good kills as many as evil? At the end of the world, there is no good and evil alone. There are desperation, madness, and hunger for power, lust for victory brought along with them.

So, at the end of the world, you chose to be side by side with your lover, Fred Weasley. The red-headed dork you’ve taught yourself to pour your love into had become the very source of your life. He is your elixir, he is your soul, heart, and happiness.

It was silent for a while, none of you had anything to say. Yet the silence was comforting, with only the presence of each other as calming as it is. “Y/N,” Fred suddenly turned his head to you, biting his lower lip in contemplation. “Hm?” “Can you just stay at the Burrow?” 

You blinked, “What?” Fred sighed, “Can you just stay at the Burrow right now and not join the war? I- I don’t want you to join in-” “Fred-” “I-It’s dangerous and it’s literally a war a-and I don’t want you to get hurt I would- I would rather die than have you hurt-” 

“Fred!” You raised your voice, your hand clasping onto his securely, an effort to calm his frenzied thoughts. He stopped rambling and stared at you with those doe eyes you adored so much, “You know I can’t do that.”

“We need everyone on board for this war. I am no exception- bloody hell, even your parents are joining in, Freddie!” You tried to explain slowly, and Fred closed his eyes in denial of defeat. 

“I love you,” he suddenly blurted out. He noticed the slight fluster you had, your eyebrows were raised for a millisecond before they furrowed upon a realization, “Wait, why are you saying this now? I-“ “I love you, Y/N,” he repeated himself and you shook your head, realizing what he was doing, “Wait, hold on a minute, no-“

He was saying it in case anything happens.

“Y/N, I love you-” “Don’t you dare say it one more time like you’re not gonna make it, Fred Weasley, I swear to Merlin,” You cut him off, your jaw clenching at his absurdness. “… Aren’t you gonna say it back?” Fred asked, his voice was small.

“I-” You sighed, “No, I won’t because I don’t want to say it right now, given the circumstances,” You paused, your voice quieting down, “It felt like a goodbye when you say it like that.” “Then when will you say it? We’ve been dating for almost a year and you'd never say it before,” He said.

“Really? This is the time to argue about this?” You gave him a pointed look, but your expression softened as you understood the meaning behind his actions. “Look, Freddie, I- You know how I feel about us,” You sighed, looking down at your hands on your lap, “You know I’m not that expressive with my words but- but I’m trying and- okay, let’s make a deal,” Fred’s ears perked up the mention of a deal. "I'm listening," he drawled.

“I’ll say the words when the war is over,” Fred gave you a sour look that clearly said ‘really?’ and it caused you to huff a smile, “Once everything is over, and everything is okay again, I’ll say them as many times as you want me to, okay?” Fred leaned into your touch as you cupped his cheek with your hand, kissing his forehead.

“Even if I made you say it a thousand times?” He asked and you chuckled, your heart warming at his childlike question, “I’ll say it for an hour if you asked me to.”

It happened so fast.

One second you were fighting off the Death Eaters with Percy and Fred, and then the other, you find your body aching at the major pressure from the rocks and debris that used to be Hogwarts’ protective wall from the outside world.

It was dark, and it was dusty, but you were too unconscious to notice. That was until you felt your cheek being patted a few times. As you gained consciousness with a cough or two, you also gained the pending pain spreading all across your whole body. You couldn’t feel your legs, or safe to say your whole lower body part. 

Memories of you a few moments ago trying to push Fred away from the rumbles but ended up facing the falling stones head-on with him instead began to flow back into your mind. How foolish could you be to act like a hero, as if you could sacrifice yourself for him to live.

“… Y-Y/N…”

You turned your head with a silent grunt, and your eyes fixate at the body beside you, a few feet away, Fred. 

He had blood leaking from his nose and ears, probably from the impact, and his face was dusty with debris from the stones. As he looked at you, he threw you a smile; a weak, hiding the fact that he’s in immense pain kind of smile.

“F-fancy seeing you here,” he grunted with a wince, a smile nevertheless rested on his lips. “Fred…” you could only mutter his name, closing your eyes for a brief second at the growing pain on your thighs. The pressure from the rumbles had slowly increased, and you felt yourself losing consciousness again. Only to be brought back to open your eyes as Fred poked your cheeks a few more times, “Hey, hey, s-stay with me, love.”

“We’ll… We’ll be okay.”

You winced at the trickling sensation on your skin as you tried to move your fingers towards him, “It’s… It’s impossible, Fred…” You voiced out, your voice cracking up. You saw Fred’s lips quivered before he threw you another comforting smile, “Don’t… Don’t say that. We’ll make it… I-I know we will.”

“We… We will?”

Groaning from the injuries on his body as he tried to move closer to you, he nodded, “We will.”

You felt his fingers trying to reach for yours, and you handed him assistance as you hooked your fingers with his. His hand was cold, trembling. But it was Fred’s. And Fred’s hand is always warm.

“It’s… It’s so heavy,” You whimpered in pain, looking at Fred for comfort. All Fred wished to do at the moment was to be strong enough. Strong enough to push off these rumbles pressing onto his body. Strong enough to pull you out from the pain. All he wished for was for you to not be in pain anymore. But he knew he couldn’t do anything. The rumbles were too big, too heavy, and it would take a while for anyone to find them at the bottom of everything. 

Fred breathed out heavily through his mouth, slowly finding it difficult to breathe through his nose anymore, trying his best to look strong for you, “Stay with me, love. S-stay with me. Five more minutes. F-five more minutes and they’ll- they’ll save us…”

“Fred…”

“Five more minutes, I promise…”

You saw the desperation in his eyes, trying his best to somehow keep you afloat until you two are saved. You heard muffles from the other side, Percy screaming for Fred and you. His screams were sad and painful to hear; you would’ve cried for him if it wasn’t for the constant high-pitched ringing in your ears.

“Fred, h-hold my hand. P-please,” You whispered, finding no more strength to say anything louder than a whisper. He instantly intertwined your fingers with his, stretching as far as he could to reach you; no matter how screeching the pain in his lower body was.

“Fred,” You called him again. He chuckled a bit, “You’re… you’re saying my name a lot of times right now, darling.” You huffed a smile, the corner of your lips twitched, “… I want to ask you something.”

“… Anything.”

Your eyes met his, even in the darkness, his eyes still managed to look so beautiful. So earthly beautiful. “… Are you happy, Freddie?”

There was something about the way you say it, Fred couldn’t get a touch of what it was but… it felt like a goodbye. As much as Fred hated to admit, he wasn’t holding on much longer either. He was bleeding heavily from everywhere, his wand was out of his reach, and his body was starting to numb. His vision began to blur by itself, hence he blinked his eyes repeatedly. Trying his best to see your features clearly, one last time, if the worst happens.

This is it, he thought. This is the end of my line. 

Finding an urge to cry, but didn’t have enough strength to sob, Fred let out a tear or two onto the dusty surface he laid his head on, his eyes closing after the content stare of your beautiful— though bloody and dusty— face. How ironic, he’s slipping away first even though he was the one who said five more minutes.

If only you had five more minutes.

“W-with… With you? Heh, always… “ The whisper coming out from his mouth caused you to narrow your eyes at him. It felt strange, it felt wrong. Was he saying goodbye? Watching Fred close his eyes was alarming, so you gained all your strength to pat his hand a few times, “H-hey, Freddie… Five more minutes. Hang… Hang on for five more minutes, please.”

You squeezed his hand, and he naturally squeezed back, only this time it was weaker than usual. His grip on your hand started to soften, but you tightened yours desperately. The pain all over your body was partially forgotten, your only focus was on keeping Fred breathing and alive, as well as yourself. 

“I’m… I’m trying, my love… but I’m sleepy… and tired…” he mumbled, his words became slurred by time. He was on the edge, you realized that. Upon the sad realization, you bit your tongue, trying your best to prepare for the worst. “L-look at me, darling,” Your voice quivered, feeling the sandy surface on your temple as you tried to force your eyes open, to properly look at him, “Look at me.”

You knew it. He was slipping away from your fingers, and you were slipping too. It didn’t matter anymore even if Percy bulldozed his way to you now, it was too late. Simply too late. And that’s none of his faults. It’s none of his and none of yours.

Some things are just meant to be.

You took your other hand and placed it onto his cold, dirty cheek. Caressing his cheekbone gently, you gave him a comforting smile, “Fred.”

He looked at you, a faint smile on his lips. He’s at the end, you acknowledged. You widen your smile to assure him, although the tears escaping your eyes say otherwise, “… You make me happy. You make me so so happy. And I… I love you.”

“I love you, Freddie.”

With a big smile, Fred widened his eyes weakly, letting out a sigh of content as he looked at you with gentle eyes,“… Now that wasn’t so hard, now was it?“

Gentle eyes that soon hollowed empty.

“Yeah,” the dam of your tears broke down, “Took me a long time...” You squeezed his now lifeless hand, trying to find comfort and warmth from him for the last time. You smiled at Fred, whilst tears rolling down your temple slowly as if mourning the passing of your lover for you. You inched closer to him, careful not to graze your injuries, and met your nose with his.

You caressed his cheek, finally feeling yourself lose consciousness. This is it, you thought, I won’t wake up ever again. “You said we’ll be okay,” You whispered weakly, huffing a content smile on your lips. Staring into his eyes that had held so much love and pure unadulterated affection for you all these years, now empty with no trace of life, had sent you into pain more powerful than the injuries present on and in your body.

“I guess we will be, after this.”

“… You spent your last five minutes with me, huh?” You felt yourself going in and out of consciousness, and your vision blurring continuously, “Aren’t you a sappy git,” the mere whisper escaped your mouth with a sigh. The warm smile never left your lips, and the only thing in your mind was how peaceful he looked as of that moment, and you wondered if you’ll ever be in that state of peace, with him.  

“No- no- no!” someone was shouting. “No! Fred! no!” And Percy was shaking his brother, and Ron was kneeling beside them with his hand on Y/N’s head, and the pair of lovers stared at each other without seeing, the ghost of their last smile still etched upon their faces.

On our last few drags of air, we agree

I was, and you were

Happy

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#fred weasley x reader #fred weasley #fred weasley fanfic #fred weasley x y/n #fred weasley x you #fred weasley angst #fred weasley fic #fred weasley fanfiction #fredweasley #frederick gideon weasley

[teawaffles]

The Fugitives from the Fire: Chapter 8 / End

——It had been an absolutely bizarre day.

After Sherlock Holmes and the others had solved the case, that was what the man known to them as Jerry Dorff thought.

Presently, he was walking along a thoroughfare in the city, a piece of paper in hand. He still wore the bandages that had made him a suspect in the arson-and-murder case; as people walked past, his unusual appearance sent them casting dubious and uncomfortable glances openly in his direction.

However, he’d already grown used to such negative reactions. Paying no mind, he continued walking towards his destination, and thought back to the events that had resulted in this curious appearance of his.

——Originally, he’d been a capable businessman: one who had expanded a retail shop into a major commercial establishment. But one day, he was betrayed by a noble he’d thought of as a close friend. He was kidnapped abruptly in the dead of night, shot in a deserted area of London, burned all over while still alive, and thrown into the River Thames.

Yet he survived. After being swept downstream, he regained consciousness; somehow, he managed to climb out the river and save himself. At this point, he thought of returning home, and telling his child and his friend that he was alright—— but the moment he considered that, he stopped.

The man who’d tried to kill him was part of the nobility: an institution which wielded absolute power in this country. If that man knew he’d survived, he would attempt to eliminate him once and for all. On top of that, he could even be placing the people important to him in harm’s way.

As such, the man relinquished everything. He gave up proving that he’d survived, a life of peace, as well as the chance to see his family and friends again. From then on, he never revealed his true identity to anyone, and led a solitary life in the slums under the false name Jerry.

However, just the other day, a mysterious letter had arrived at the inn where he was staying. Written on it was his real name, and some simple instructions.

To summarise its contents: an incident would break out at a nearby inn; he was to get himself involved as one of the suspects; after which, the famous detective Sherlock Holmes would solve the case. Then, once the man had seen that the case was resolved, he was to go to this address.

And in reality, in the case involving the famous detective, the man had indeed been caught up as a suspect.

At first, when he read the letter, he was wrought with unease that his survival had finally been discovered. But if that had been the case, it would’ve been an assassin rather than a letter that arrived on his doorstep. As such, he surmised that at the very least, the author of the letter meant him no harm.

Moreover, the occurrence and resolution of the incident had happened exactly as the letter said it would; from that, it was apparent that this person had considerable foresight. Hence, powerless as he was right now, it would be mean nothing for him to disobey those instructions anyway. Having arrived at that conclusion, the man resolved to head to that address, even as apprehension took root within him.

“……Only being able to go with the flow — just like a puppet on strings, huh.”

He murmured self-abasingly, then stopped. He had reached the address written on the letter.

He was in the heart of one of London’s shopping districts. It was dusk, and the street lamps were lined up like candles on a birthday cake, casting a gentle glow all around. As usual, the passers-by cast strange looks in his direction, but the man didn’t care a whit.

Amidst the stream of people, he stood stock-still, his gaze fixed on the enormous building before him.

This was the department store he had, in the past, guided to success together with his friend. It seemed that a big incident a while back had forced the business to close. But as he soaked in its majestic atmosphere, a sense of nostalgia surged into his chest.

Nevertheless, at this point, he was no better than a recluse. No matter what end awaited this department store — the very one he had watched grow like his own child — that had nothing to do with him anymore. How was his precious family spending their days? That was immaterial to him too.

A firm resolve; and within it, an inexorable sorrow and regret. Perhaps the one who’d sent this letter was hoping to dredge up these emotions within him. If that were the case, then although he didn’t know who they were, he was certain they had rather bad taste.

Carrying a faint indignation, as well as an emptiness in his heart, the man made to leave.

Then, a little further down the street, a carriage caught his eye as it slowed to a stop.

✦ ✦ ✦ ✦

“——Hey, William. You came to my house all of a sudden, picked me up in this carriage, then brought me all the way here — what on earth are you doing?”

As they rode together in a carriage, that was what Helena Curtis asked William James Moriarty seated across her. His elder brother Albert was seated next to him, and their youngest brother Louis held the reins in the driver’s seat.

However, both William and Albert simply responded with meaningful smiles.

“You’ll know it when you alight……. Since everything up till now, has been part of my plan.”

“………?”

She still couldn’t grasp the meaning behind his words; but for the time being, she did as he said and descended from the carriage.

Then, she found herself standing before the place where that brutal occupation had occurred several days earlier, and where she had ended up making William’s acquaintance: that very department store.

“……Maybe they’re going to unfurl a banner saying ‘Congratulations on your reopening!’ or something like that?”

Helena murmured as she gazed up at the building before her. Now, its enormity seemed almost hollow. She had thought of this store as her second home; part of her had been reluctant to see it fade away, but she also understood that there had been no other choice. For better or for worse, she was an intelligent girl.

What on earth was their purpose in bringing her here?

With that question on the tip of her tongue, Helena was just about to turn back to the carriage, when a voice came calling out to her from the side.

“……Helena?”

“——Eh?”

Her gaze shot toward the direction of the voice; there, stood a man whose face was wrapped all over in bandages. As the evening sun shone on him from behind, he looked almost like a demon from a child’s picture book.

Helena was shocked.

But it wasn’t because this suspicious-looking man had suddenly called her by name. What had taken her by surprise, was that ‘colour’.

——A warm, and slightly lonely colour, like clouds drenched in the evening sun.

It was dusk now: perhaps she had simply confused it with the sky? No, definitely not. That colour had certainly come from this man.

Then, the man seemed to have realised something all of a sudden, and turned his face away.

“Apologies. It seems I was mistaken. You reminded me of an acquaintance’s child.”

He said that as if making excuses to someone else, then turned away and tried to leave.

But Helena stared right at his back and shouted.

“Dad! It’s you, isn’t it!?”

Her voice had been clear, and imbued with a strong conviction. The girl’s plea washed over him, and the man looked down.

“……You’re mistaken. I’m not related to you.”

“That’s a lie! Your colour is the same as my dad’s! I’m absolutely sure on that!”

At this point, her voice was already trembling. With all her strength, she dashed toward him. He’d stood there with his fists clenched, and his back still turned; but finally, as if tearing himself free from everything, he spun around and knelt on one knee, hugging his daughter in his arms.

“I missed you so much……”

Helena spoke, her face buried in the front of his tattered, worn-out shirt. Even without looking at her, the man knew tears were flowing freely down her cheeks.

“……It’s been so long. And you’ve gotten so big.”

He too smiled at his daughter, no longer caring about the gazes of the people around him. Just for a moment, it was as if the bustle of the city had faded away, and the evening sun bathed the reunion of this long-separated family in its tender glow.

If only time could stop at this moment, they wouldn’t have to suffer the anguish of the impending tragedy. With that thought in mind, even as he felt a pang of regret, he pulled his daughter away from his chest.

“Helena. I’m glad I got to see you again. But, it’s no use: if he finds out I’m still alive——”

“——You need not worry about that anymore.”

Right then, William called out to him as he got off the carriage.

“……You are?”

“My name is William James Moriarty. I was fortunate enough to have made friends with Miss Helena.”

Wiping the tears from her eyes, Helena spread out her arms in joy.

“Thanks to William, I also saved Mr Kevin’s life, you know. Also, that noble, Andy — he can’t lay a hand on us anymore.”

“Is that…… true?”

From within the depths of his bandages, the man’s eyes widened, and he looked in William’s direction once again. At that, William responded with a smile full of warmth.

“This may be a bit too sudden, and perhaps you will need some time to process it, but that will not be an issue. We have completely eliminated that which has been tormenting all of you.”

“That…… How?”

“About that, please speak with your daughter in your own time after this.”

The man was more bewildered than overjoyed; but William left only those words with him, and stepped into the carriage once again. Her face brimming with smiles, Helena looked at William in the carriage, as well as Albert seated inside, and Louis in the driver’s seat.

“To everyone in the Moriarty family: truly, thank you. No matter how many times I say that, it will never be enough.”

William bowed respectfully, and then the carriage set off. As he watched the man stand there blankly, and the young girl waving at them as hard as she could, a gentle smile rose to his face.

Seeing that, Albert chuckled.

“So, is this the finishing touch?”

William nodded.

“That’s right, Albert nii-san.”

——Searching for Helena’s father, and reuniting them. That had been William’s plan this time around.

In order to pronounce judgement on Andy at the survival game, they had been looking into what the man did to Helena’s father, when William landed on the possibility that he was still alive and in hiding somewhere.

They had commenced their search right away, but it seemed the man was leading a rather inconspicuous life — his whereabouts were a mystery. Hence, William took advantage of the department store attackers who had fled from the police.

Those men were born and raised in the slums; having committed numerous petty crimes for a long time, they were well-versed in the art of escaping from the Yard. Of course, among the streets they’d grown up in, they were also familiar with the best places to evade detection. Putting it another way, one could take it that wherever these men had chosen to lay low, that same place would be perfect for Helena’s father to hide himself, seeing as he wanted to mask his existence. Hence, as soon as the fugitives holed up in one place, William would probe the surrounding area, and when he’d determined that Helena’s father was not there, he would let the fugitives catch wind of the Yard’s presence, and drive them on to their next hiding spot.

After repeating this a few times, as William had predicted, they finally discovered a man who appeared to fit the bill. He stayed at a certain inn, calling himself Jerry Dorff; but having laid low for such a long time, the man had become extremely distrustful — it would be no mean feat to call him out to meet Helena. Forcibly abducting him was out of the question, and even if they had brought Helena to meet him, he might mistake it as a trap set by the noble who’d betrayed him.

After exploring various methods, William chose to send him a single letter. Written on it was a full description of the incident that would occur — serving as a prophecy of sorts, to show that he meant him no harm, as well as a final notice: hinting that he couldn’t escape the net William had cast. After which, all that was left was to send an anonymous tip-off to the police regarding the fugitives’ location.

Then the detective and the Yard moved to hunt down the two fugitives, and Helena’s father was led to this place. Everything had unfurled from atop the palm of the “Lord of Crime” — and all of it occurred without the slightest deviation from his plan.

As a modest reward, William had been able to witness a beautiful love between parent and child. Sharing a meaningful look with Albert, he called out to his younger brother.

“Shall we, Louis?”

“Yes, William nii-san.”

With that, Louis urged their horse on a little faster.

Now that their twilight-coloured plan had been accomplished, they were headed in the opposite direction from the sunset sky, still radiant with the sun’s last rays — and towards one which was already dyed pitch-black.

When the sun went down, this city would once again be ruled by the darkness of the night. They would continue to race through its darkest parts, and work towards their goal. Finally, dawn would arrive. All the darkness would be dispelled, and a new day would begin: one that would bring people hope.

The carriage continued racing forward in a straight line. As it disappeared into the streets that had begun to dissolve into the gloom, William James Moriarty smiled.

One day, the morning sun would shine upon this world, and the ideals they created would come to life — that, was what he believed.

T/N: …When Helena’s father was revealed to be alive, I was oh my god what if—— and then they did get reunited and I was about to cry… It’s a better end than I could’ve imagined! (tears of joy)

#moriarty the patriot #yuukoku no moriarty #yuumori #english translation #the girl who sees rainbows

[wish-that-i-was-buckys-girl]

Dad’s Best Friend

Summary: Your Dad’s Best Friend, Lee Bodecker, is a close family friend who helps and protects you at all costs. But all he is is a family friend, right?

Warnings: Mentions of a Peeping Tom, Smut, Daddy Kink, choking, perverted comments, maybe slight dub-con?

A/N: Hey everyone! This is my first time writing on tumblr, so I hope you enjoy! This story is also on my ao3, but I saw how much love Lee was getting on tumblr, so I decided to make a blog for fan fictions. Please be gentle with criticism, this is my first time writing smut. However, don’t be afraid to voice your opinion! This is a modern day AU. Lee is soft in this one, there are no dark elements. If you squint maybe it’s dub-con, but I don’t see it that way. However, I added it to the warnings just in case. If there are any more warnings I need to add just let me know and I happily will. This is a learning experience for me! If this receives enough love, I left it open for it to make it a mini-series, or maybe do more drabbles about it. I hope you enjoy!

________________________________________

(Not my gif)

You moved to Knockemstiff when you were 6 years old. Your mother, a local politician, got hired in the little town of Ohio 15 years ago. She began working as a town council member, eventually working her way up to being the mayor.

Being the mayor’s daughter had some perks. You always got complimentary food at the local diners. The business owners wanted to get in good with your mother, for whatever reason. You weren’t sure what your mother had to offer that could help them, but food is food and free pancakes are free pancakes. You never really understood politics yourself. You understood federal level and a little bit of state, but local politics (although some claim it to be the most important) bored the shit out of you.

You even knew the town police. You grew close to Deputy Howser. He was a little older than you, but you got along well and frequented drinking together on the weekends with some of your other friends. Your father, however, got close with the Sheriff. Your father was a stay-at-home dad, your mother bringing in all the money you could ever need. They both didn’t mind, and it was easier growing up to have at least one parent at home. Although Sheriff Bodecker didn’t think being a stay-at-home dad exuded masculinity, he was still your fathers’ friend, nonetheless. They bonded over shitty beer, sports, and candy.

The Sheriff, although you didn’t hang out with him, was another authority figure in your life that you always had to worry about. You couldn’t go out with friends. You knew this because of one mishap you had with your friends. Everyone was home from college, meaning there would be a huge party. You and your friend, Jenny, we’re only 20 at the time. You went, got extremely drunk, and the cops were called.

Of course, you had to be laying on the couch, shirt off, when Sheriff Bodecker arrived. He picked you up by your waist, bring your limp frame against his sturdy body.

“Do I need to tell your father about this darlin’?”

You whined against his chest

“Nooooo, don’t tell my daaaddddyyy”

His cock swelled at the word.

Daddy

He didn’t understand why and just tried to push it deep down.

“Well, doll, I think I can keep this secret for you. Just this once though. If I see you in this state again before you turn 21, I’m going to have to take you in. I can’t show favorites in this town.”

You looked up and smiled at him groggily

“But aren’t I your favorite, Sheriff?”

This wasn’t the only instance in when you ran into the trouble with the Sheriff. You also had a habit of smoking, and more frequently, eating illegal substances.

“Hey darlin’, you’re looking a little tired today,” he said entering your kitchen, “do you need to take a nap or somethin’?”

You reacted slow.

You looked up to him with half-open eyes.

“.....what?”

He knew. He knew from the moment you looked at you.

He just smiled. He wouldn’t snitch as long you were safe. You were in your house, and he and your father were there to protect you if anything happened.

“Go take a nap sweetheart. I’ll go get you when the takeout gets here.”

You smiled and nodded. Before going upstairs, you leaned in to give him a hug.

You whispered, “Thanks Lee.”

______________________________________

Deputy Howser walked into your place of work, a retail store.

You spotted him from the back, where you were steaming shirts to put out on the rack.

“Hey!” you shouted at him from across the store.

“Hey!” He stated walking towards you, “You gonna be home tonight?”

“I suppose I should be, why?”

“Well, I might advise against it” he said worried.

“And why is that?”

“Well... as you know it’s poker night, and all the guys from the station are gonna be coming over to your house to play.”

“Yes, I do know this, and what about it?”

“Well, I just, I know how some of the guys down at the station can get when they start drinking, and I’m not so sure I would want you in that environment.”

“I have to ask again, why is that?”

“It’s just... it’s just that you’re a young woman, a beautiful one at that, and they might make certain comments that would make you feel uncomfortable.”

You scoffed. “I think I’ll be fine David. I can hold my own yknow.”

“I know, I know. I just, I don’t wanna see you get hurt or see you uncomfortable.”

“I promise, I’ll be fine. I’ll see you when I get off work, okay?”

“Okay.” He said with slight hesitation. “See ya then.”

______________________________________

You walked through your front door, yelling to your father that you were home.

“Dad! I’m home! Sorry, I got out a little bit late tonight.”

“Hey sweetheart, I’m in the dining room with the guys. Come say hi.”

You began to walk back to the dining room to say hello.

You immediately regretted it.

“Hey baby, come here often?” One of them joked.

“You wanna come sit down sweetheart? You look like you’ve had a long day. I gotta spot waiting for ya” another stated, patting his lap.

You awkwardly smiled and waved at them. Your father, David, and Lee all had angry expressions plastered on their face. They didn’t say anything as to not upset the men. They needed almost every single one for a successful poker night. It was just easier to not start anything.

“It’s nice seeing you all” you said through gritted teeth, not meaning a single word.

“I’m gonna go upstairs now, and if you gentleman would stick to the downstairs bathroom that would be great.”

You needed to take a shower, but you weren’t going to announce that to a room full of drunken men, who were obviously having too much fun as it was.

You turned on your heel and scurried up the steps. You ran into the bathroom immediately, locking the door behind you.

God, I hate poker nights.

You stared at yourself in the mirror before stepping into the shower. You didn’t even understand why they were hitting on you so much. In your eyes, at least, there wasn’t much to look at, or even desire. You were insecure but tried not to show it. There were good days, and bad days. Today just happened to be a bad day.

You poked and prodded your every insecurity, hoping that this would remedy the issues and make them disappear.

It wasn’t successful.

You finally decided to get undressed and get in the shower. Your turned both nozzles on, waiting for the water to get warm. Once it was a comfortable temperature you stepped in the shower, letting your mind wander.

You never knew why, but your mind always wanted to think about the sheriff. His muscular figure, with his big belly to give him some cushion so he was soft enough to lay on. His cute nose. And his uniform. He looked so stern and yet soft at the same time. Ready to kick someone’s ass but also ready to protect you when he needed to.

You were pulled from your thoughts as you heard a slight chuckle coming from the doorway. You pulled back the curtain to reveal the door was cracked. No one was there, but you could’ve sworn you shut and locked it upon entering just moments ago. You were leery but decided to let it go. You continued to wash your body and your hair. You heard the chuckle again. You didn’t hesitate this time, pulling back the curtain as fast as you could, but still covering your body.

You made direct eye contact with another man from the office. You couldn’t think of his name in that exact moment, being too mortified to even let your thoughts process what was going on.

You screamed. You screamed as loud as you could prompting Officer Dowd to begin sprinting down the stairs. Fortunately, your father and Lee were up in a flash hearing you scream. He was caught.

Lee shoved Officer Dowd against the wall as you wrapped yourself in a towel and made it halfway down the steps.

“Looks like we got a peepin’ Tom. You like looking at girls in the shower huh? You like it when you get to stare at them with their clothes off?”

He didn’t let Officer Dowd answer the question. Lee gave him a swift punch to the face before another breath escaped his body.

Officer Dowd landed on the ground with a thud. Lee got on the ground and spoke to him lightly.

“Now let that be a warnin’. If I catch you anywhere near Y/N again, I’ll put you in the damn ICU. And that is a promise you bet I’m keeping. I know we’re playin’ poker, but I ain’t bluffin’.”

Lee stood up abruptly and say your father holding you as you sobbed into his chest.

He hated to see you cry.

Lee remembered the first time he ever saw you extremely distraught. Some local high school boys were making fun of how you looked. He knew that sort of stuff normally didn’t bother you, but he could tell what they said was more than a few insults.

You came through the door absolutely sobbing. Lee happened to be over at the time, concerned something worse may have happened to you. You explained some stupid high school boys were just harassing you and you shouldn’t be as upset as you were. He held you for two hours that day trying to get you to calm down. He had never felt a pit in his stomach like that before in his life.

He loathed that people made you feel this way.

Your father finally spoke “I think it’s safe to say poker night is over. If you have any issues, I’m sure Bodecker would love to speak to you right now.”

______________________________________

As the men cleared out, Deputy Howser and Lee stayed to make sure you were okay.

They waited until your father calmed you down.

Deputy Howser came in first. He totally wanted to say “I told you so” but he didn’t. Thank god. You think you might have punched him if he did. Instead, he just told you how his wife would bake you your favorite cookies tomorrow and he would bring them over after work. You thanked him, finally leaving. To be honest, you just wanted to be alone.

That was, until you saw Lee come into your room to check on you. You didn’t even know he was still here. You knew he cares about you, but not to this extent. Deputy Howser was your best friend, and obviously your dad cares, but Lee was only a family friend. You saw him all the time, but this was different.

“Hey darlin’, how ya feelin’?”

You smirked “How would you feel if you caught a grown man trying to spy on you while you were taking a shower?”

He smiled back “Fair ‘nough”

He closed the door behind him and sat down on the bed next to you.

It was silent for a moment. You appreciated it, but it was still awkward. You decided to be bold.

“How come you stuck around to check on me?”

Lee was taken aback by this question. He just punched a man for you, why would he not stay to check snd make sure you were doing okay?

“Sweetheart, I just socked the man who was tryin’ to do you harm. Why wouldn’t I stick around to make sure you were okay?”

You thought for a moment.

“I just didn’t think you cared about me that much.”

Again, Lee was shocked. How could you be saying this?

“Y/N, if I didn’t care about ya, your dad would’ve known about all your shenanigans a long time ago. Course I care about ya. You mean a lot to me.”

Your stomach started to turn. Not in a queasy way, but more nervous. You didn’t know why.

“Lee?”

“Yes darlin’?”

“Would you, would you mind if you gave me a hug before you left? I just, I need to be held right now.”

He sat there and thought for a moment. About what, you don’t know, but he finally nodded and opened his arms. You took it upon yourself to sit in his lap while he wrapped his arms around you.

You could hear his heartbeat and breathing. It was soothing. You needed that after the day you had.

Something in the air felt off though. You weren’t sure what, but you knew it felt different.

You looked to Lee for a response but all he had to offer was a soft smile. Your faces were dangerously close to one another. He caressed your hair, lovingly while you continued to stare into each other’s eyes.

You decided to be bold.

You leaned in quickly for a kiss.

At first, Lee resisted, confused as to what was going on, but eventually gave into your soft lips.

You held them there for a moment, enjoying the touch. You began to deepen the kiss as time went on, sucking on his lower lip while he sucked on your upper lip. You stayed that way for what felt like an eternity. Lee began to dip his tongue into your mouth. You accepted it and continued like this for even longer. The passion in the way he was kissing and holding you was unreal. Unlike your ex-boyfriend Lance, he seemed to care that you were enjoying it too.

You finally pulled apart and made eye contact.

He smirked.

“This isn’t what I thought was gonna happen when you said you needed to be held.”

You smiled back

“Just shut up and kiss me.”

You went in for another kiss, but Lee quickly spun you around and pinned you to the bed.

“I know ya got a mouth on ya doll, but I call the shots. Talk like that again and I’ll have to spank your ass.”

“Yes, Sheriff.” You said coyly.

“Although I love you calling me Sheriff, you’ll address me as daddy.”

Your pussy throbbed at the sound of calling him that.

“Yes, daddy.”

He smiled.

“How bout we get these clothes off?”

You nodded eagerly. He ripped off your clothes in a flash, with no time to waste. He had already been in your room for an uncomfortable amount of time. Your father might come in at any moment.

“Can I touch this pretty pussy, babydoll?” He stated, hovering over your mound.

You nodded again, almost breathless at the thought of him touching you.

He slowly entered you with two fingers. A soft moan escaped your lips, grabbing onto his other arm that was propping him up.

“Fuck, you’re so tight darlin’, can’t wait to put my cock in you.”

He pumped in and out of you at a slow pace. He didn’t know how much experience you had, trying to be as gentle as possible.”

“Daddy go faster.”

“Daddy go faster, what?”

You rolled your eyes.

“Daddy go faster, please.”

He grabbed the sides of your throat lightly to assert dominance. You assume it was because you rolled your eyes. Damn your attitude sometimes.

“Now, we don’t roll our eyes at our daddy, do we?”

“No, I promise I won’t do it again daddy. Please go faster.”

He obliged and starts pumping his fingers in and out of you at a rapid pace. A louder moan escaped your lips again, this time Lee shot his hand up to cover your mouth.

“Shhh, we have to be quiet darlin’. Wouldn’t want your old man to find out what we were doin’. I don’t see it endin’ well for either of us.”

You nodded as you rode his fingers. Your walls fluttered around his fingers. You felt the right coil in your stomach, preparing yourself for an orgasm.

Just as you felt the wave of pleasure coming, Lee pulled his fingers out of you.

You looked up in confusion, only to see Lee with his pants pulled down and holding his cock.

Wow.

He was huge.

He began stroking it.

“You ready sweetheart?” He whispered into your ear softly.

You nodded again, just wanting to get back to the wave of pleasure you were about to experience.

“I don’t usually get to it this fast but considerin’ the circumstances I don’t wanna get caught.”

He began to press his head into you. He could feel you squeeze around him, driving him absolutely insane.

“Goddamn darlin’, I ain’t gonna last long if you’re this tight.”

You smiled, glad to make him feel good.

He leaned down to kiss you as he slowly started to pump in and out of you.

You moaned against his lips, unable to keep yourself from being quiet. His lips thankfully muffled your moans. He continued to pump in and out “fuck baby, tell me how bad you want it.”

You whispered against him “I want it so bad daddy, please go faster. Fuck me as hard as you can.”

Lee couldn’t control himself. He picked up his pace and began pounding into you, careful not to make too much noise with the bed frame.

“Oh fuck, daddy, oh god don’t stop.”

“You like this baby? Huh? You like how your daddy pounds your pussy?”

You nodded, almost completely incoherent and responded with a soft “yes daddy, god yes.”

The coil in your stomach came back, making you arch your back, also allowing Lee to fuck you deeper.

Lee began speaking again “Who’s pussy does this belong to?”

“It belongs to you daddy!”

“Keep sayin’ it, keep telling’ me who owns this pussy”

“You daddy, oh god it belongs to you!”

The wave of pleasure began to wash over you as you climaxed.

“That’s it baby, cum all over my cock, fuck yeah just like that” Lee whispered back.

Lee could tell you were about to moan, so he covered your mouth just in time for you to cum. Only seconds later did Lee let out a similar moan, muffled by his head being buried in your hair. He pulled out of you abruptly and began stroking his cock. He came all over your stomach and tits, making a mess of your body. He quickly got up and put his clothes on, also grabbing tissues to wipe off your body.

You laid on the bed, left breathless of what transpired.

Lee laid down next to you, only for a little bit. He didn’t want to fuck you and leave. He was better than that. Well, at least he thought he was. Other women might not agree.

You slid over to lay on his chest, still completely undressed.

You laid like this for a little while before looking to Lee.

“Lee?”

“What sweetheart?”

“Can we add this to the list of ‘shenanigans’ you won’t be telling my father?”

#lee bodecker #Lee Bodecker/Reader #sebastian stan #sebastian stan characters #the devil all the time #Lee Bodecker #Lee Bodecker x reader #lee bodecker x reader #lee bodecker x you

[monster-bait]

Monster Match: Landry, NB Monster x F Human, SFW

For @ghostlystitches, my 3rd place contest winner from waaaaaay back in August! Thanks so much for your patience, I can’t wait for Landry and the choir to make their return in Cambric Creek!

.

.

There was a universal truth to working in the service industry, one that not many people outside it understood: everyone who’d been doing the job for more than a few months possessed a customer service voice. Whether it was poised and polished, bubbly and enthusiastic, or steadfast and calm, The Voice had little bearing on the person to whom it belonged; gave little insight into one’s personality once they were off the clock and safe at home, far away from the food service or retail or call center way of life.

You were no different: friendly and professional, you handled customers with ease, chatted easily as people checked out, and always had a ready smile. The fact that you hated crowds and grew anxious at the thought of evenings out was not something the customers at your job would be able to guess, but you still sighed a small breath of relief upon clocking out each day, eager to be home with your cats and fuzzy socks.

There would be no respite that day.

As you walked across the shopping plaza’s parking lot, your stomach clenched with nerves, and a familiar tightness wrapped around your chest. Your heart was beating just a little bit faster than it had been an hour earlier, and a slight ripple of nausea replaced the giddy relief you normally felt as you went home each day. It was Thursday, the most anxiety-inducing day on the calendar, when you would leave work and go straight to the Nocturnal Worship Center, a non-denominational church for a subset of the community’s residents.

Your work friend Greska had gotten it into her head that it would be so fun! to join the Cambric Creek community choir several months earlier, changing her availability at the store almost immediately afterward, meaning she no longer worked on Thursdays with you. She hadn’t been on time to a single rehearsal since. You’d been unsurprised when she’d texted that afternoon, letting you know she’d not be able to make it to rehearsal that night; knew she’d already lost interest in the choir and would likely be announcing her intent to quit any day now.

I really hate Thursdays...

Being a human in Cambric Creek was hard enough. You loved your multi-species neighbors, had made good friends and enjoyed the varied clientele at work, but you still tiptoed, worried that you’d inadvertently say or do something to offend someone, finding it easier to exist at the periphery of friends groups at work and school. The community choir was a distillation of everything that made you nervous: a large, noisy crowd of big personalities, wannabe divas and social butterflies, and your heart would be in your throat each week as you made the drive.

The parking lot would already be filled with cars by the time you arrived, werewolves and lizardfolk and tieflings hustling in, neighbors and friends calling out greetings and socializing in the aisles beneath the big, domed ceiling of the non-denominational worship center, moonlight winking down through the glass overhead. Instead of comfy clothes and cozy socks, you would be in your work clothes for hours more, in particular your Thursday work outfit—one you always spent a bit more time and care picking out, attempting to be as cute as possible when you arrived at the choir’s home, a task which seemed impossible after a long shift.

“Mi mi mi mi mi mi miiiiiiiii….”

Landry’s rich voice reverberated off the wall to your back as you carefully stepped up the risers, taking your place beside them. As usual, you were unable to repress your smile as they belted out the arpeggio.

“Did you ever notice how self-absorbed this exercise is? There’s no you, no us. It’s all about meeeee!” They belted the last syllable once more, and you ducked your head as you laughed, lest they see the heat that stole up your neck. You enjoyed singing, it was true, but you enjoyed the company of the Thursday night rehearsals more. “As if there weren’t enough inflated egos packed in here!”

As if to prove their point, a turban-wearing harpy in the row ahead let out a window-rattling operatic warble, her voice piercing in the upper notes. You huffed silent laughter as Landry lifted a webbed hand as if to say see?!

You would be lying to yourself if you pretended even for a moment that your crush on your green-skinned section-mate wasn’t the reason you were determined to stick with the choir, despite the absence of your friend. Always chipper, always smiling, choir rehearsal with Landry had simultaneously become the brightest and most worrisome spot on your weekly calendar, as you fretted over saying the wrong thing or being too awkward, talking too much or not enough, seeming too eager...but the week’s worth of anxious over-thinking would wash away once you saw the small, pointed teeth revealed by their bright smile, and the hour-long rehearsal would seem only minutes long, leaving you free to bask in the afterglow of your crush throughout the weekend, before you began worrying all over again the following week.

“If you keep that up, Chaz is going to call you out again for not harmonizing. Do we really need a repeat of the great a Capella nightmare of two weeks ago?”

They huffed dismissively as Chaz, the eccentric vampire in charge, began to tap a pencil on the music stand before him to call the chattering group to attention. Your audition may have been good enough for the 1980’s fashion-loving choir director, although you were fairly certain your status as a human made up for what you lacked in musical talent, and that Chaz deliberately spaced his less-than confident choristers, strategically placing them adjacent to those who had talent to spare…like you and Landry.

“Please! What’s he gonna do? We’re the backbone of this whole row, he’d be lost without us!”

Your laughter was hidden behind your folder of music as the vampire ahead banged the music stand against the stage, finally earning the choir’s attention, and fire once more heated your neck.

I love Thursdays…

.

.

“The front row favorites were talking about going to the Sidecar after rehearsal. You’re coming, right?”

You froze, missing the note you were meant to be writing in your music, your entire body seizing in panic. It wasn’t until a webbed hand reached over, turning the page before you that you snapped from your stupor, your voice joining the first note half a beat behind. You knew a large portion of the choir gathered together after rehearsal each week, but you’d never joined them. Perhaps if Greska would have been there, perhaps if you were a part of any of the existing cliques which comprised the choir, if you didn’t feel so awkward…besides, it wasn’t as if you’d ever been invited by any of your fellow choristers.

“You’re not really going to leave me alone with these vultures, are you? You know I’m liable to say something about the out-of-tune second row if you’re not there to mind me.”

The Sidecar was a speakeasy-style pub, dimly lit and trendy with an expansive cocktail list and entirely intimidating. You’d never been there and couldn’t imagine yourself confidently strolling through the doors alone.

“You can follow me if you’ve never been there before. C’mon, you know I can’t be trusted alone.”

They wouldn’t be alone, you thought immediately: Landry was fun and funny and friendly towards everyone, and surely wouldn’t have a problem slipping in with the larger group.

“Please? Pleeeeease? I really don’t want to go if you’re not coming, but I’m parched. I’ll shrivel up like a blue-raspberry fruit roll-up if I don’t get something to drink right after rehearsal.”

A smart-assed retort about the nearly-full water bottle beside their chair danced on the tip of your tongue, but as you raised your head to deliver it, their wide, golden eyes held you spellbound, imploring you to give in. You felt suspended in time, like a prehistoric bug in amber as you admired the angle of their jaw, the slight sheen on their blue-green skin, the tightly sealed gills at the side of their neck. When your eyes wandered back to theirs, the golden orbs shimmered with hopeful expectation.

“Sure. We don’t want you getting into too much trouble. Look what happened the night of the harvest jamboree concert.”

Chaz was tapping the music stand as the piano started up, the elderly beetle woman who provided the accompaniment hunching over the keyboard with her multiple arms, and you were unable to bury your face in your music as you flushed. You scarcely recognized the confident voice that had come from your mouth; you were surprised with the way you’d responded, but pleased all the same, and you realized there was an unexpected benefit of possessing The Voice.

.

.

“I never met my father, but you can’t miss what you don’t have, you know?”

You nodded sympathetically, crunching into another of the fried zucchini sticks from the basket between you. They would have been better with a touch more salt, but your companion had a low tolerance for sodium, and you were happy to go without.

The Melted Meeple hummed with energy and people, as it always did on Saturday nights, but the tabletop gamers kept to their own parties, leaving plenty of open booths and tables toward the back half of the establishment, and you enjoyed the happy energy within. You’d blurted the question over their heritage, unable to tamp back your curiosity for another week, and to your relief, Landry had laughed.

“Well, my mom is a human. My parents met while she was studying abroad, and she came home with a hell of a souvenir! Although I must say, I’m way better than a t-shirt.”

Your face flamed, regretting asking so personal a question, but Landry waved away your flustered expression. “None of that. I was the only amphibious kid in the family, so that meant I won every swimming contest. I’d go to the river with my cousins and we’d mop the floor with the other kids. Now I live in a nice neighborhood where there are some folks who look like me, I have my own pool, and I sing in an awesome choir. No regrets!”

There was a ridged fin that moved down the center of their head like a punkish hairstyle, mirrored by the delicate fanned membranes of their ears...you already knew from casual bumps and touches that their skin was silky smooth, if not a touch rubbery, and you wondered what their long, webbed fingers would feel like moving over your skin, or entwined with yours…

“You’re right,” you agreed, watching them drain the last of their drink. “You’re much better than a shirt.”

That first night at the Sidecar had been as awkward as you’d feared, but Landry had stayed by your side and had lamented how fussy and complicated the bar menu was as they walked you back to your car once the choir members started to disperse. When the plans buzzed around rehearsal the following week, they hadn’t needed to beg again, and your dislike of crowds was slightly mollified as you walked into the speakeasy together, your taller companion’s hand resting lightly on your back.

“Let’s go somewhere else this week,” they’d whispered as Chaz addressed the tenors of the second row, the third week after that first post-rehearsal meetup. “That place is too dark and crowded. I thought that gnoll was going to climb into my back pocket last week.”

Somewhere else had been the Melted Meeple, then the Black Sheep Beanery the week after, and a dim sum restaurant that served bubble tea the week after that. A full month had gone by, and then another, you realized, two months of Thursdays, and somehow your stomach had stopped clenching in anxiety by Tuesday each week. The Melted Meeple had been your favorite of the spots you’d visited together, and you’d been the one to suggest it that night. Landry’s golden eyes had glimmered as they nodded happily, straightening to attention when Chaz lifted his head, signaling the group to attention once more.

Your weekly post-rehearsal outings had become the most looked-forward-to event on your weekly calendar, and when you’d once been overcome with anxiousness, a giddy elation seemed to carry you into rehearsal each week, and you were amazed by how quickly the time had seemed to fly.

“You know, there’s going to be a dinner after the Snowdrop Festival concert, we’re not going to be able to wriggle out of that.”

“That’s fine,” you allowed, laughing at their screwed-up expression. “You know, if you keep carrying on about the second row, that gryphon is going to assume you’re jealous.”

“Oh, you take that back! The audacity!”

You weren’t sure who this girl was, as you dropped your head back, unrestrained laughter pouring out of you. You weren’t sure who she was, but you liked her, you decided. Liked the possibility that perhaps your feelings weren’t completely one-sided after all. You’d wondered, a few weeks earlier, when Landry had talked around the gnoll sitting in front of you, evading her questions about that evening until the choir was called to attention, wrapping a cool, webbed hand around your wrist the moment the rehearsal ended, hurrying you down the aisle and out the door, before whooping into the night air that you’d escaped and were free to do what you wanted.

“We’re going to the dinner, and that’s that.” You watched as they rolled their eyes, sighing dramatically.

“Fine...what about Saturday?”

“Is there a rehearsal on Saturday?” You felt a prickle of panic that you’d forgotten to schedule something, for you definitely had to work Saturday afternoon, and had nothing else on your schedule…

“No, no...dinner, on Saturday? Are you free?”

The sound of other patrons playing their tabletop games suddenly seemed very far away, and wind rushed in your ears. Were you free Saturday night?

“I think I am,” you answered guardedly. “W-why? Is there something special about Saturday?”

“Yes. It’s not a rehearsal night.”

You bit your lip as Landry smiled broadly, giving you a glimpse of those small, pointed teeth. You wondered what their kiss would feel like; if their skin was always cool to the touch, and if they liked cats. “I work in the afternoon, but I’m not busy at all that night.”

They slipped on the knit hat you’d made them as you left the noise of the Meeple behind, their head fin popping adorably through the opening, and your heart felt close to bursting when long, cool, webbed fingers threaded with your own as you moved through the chilly night.

“Perfect, then. It’s a date.”

You’d reached your car by then, but you made no move to open the door. “A date.”

“A date.” Their lips were cool and soft against your cheek, and the heat that flooded your skin was enough to make the cold night air seem balmy. “A date,” they repeated once more, a bit softer, squeezing your hand before releasing you to open the car door.

You had learned to love Thursdays, but you were certain, as you pulled into the night, your skin buzzing where they’d kissed you, that Saturdays were about to become your new favorite day.

.

.

Next up is Alder the Ghillie Dhu’s revisit & then my first and second place contest winners! For exclusive Cambric Creek stories every month, smash subscribe on my Patreon!

#Exophilia #monster lover #enby monstey #non-binary monster #monster match #monster matchmaker #terato #amphibious #monster x reader #monster x human #monster x female reader

[mrvltwimagines]

Just Another Day

PLATONIC-ISH COWORKER!SEBASTIAN STAN x READER x (TINY BIT OF) PLATONIC COWORKER!MATTHEW GRAY GUBLER 

SUMMARY: You had gotten too comfortable at your old job where no one noticed anything about you and didn’t think about how hard it would be to hide your ongoing secrets from your new coworkers.

WARNINGS: Domestic Abuse, Mentions of Anxiety

WORD COUNT: 4.4k (whew another long one, oopsies!)

You knew with starting a new job that some of your secrets would shine through eventually. You were beyond grateful to have gotten this job, even if it was just retail. You had been struggling financially which had taken a toll on your mental health, so working again and knowing you have consistent paychecks coming your way was relieving.

Compared to your previous job, it only took the first day working at this new company to realize how bad you previously had it and how lucky you were to have landed this one. Your coworkers were all so nice, and while the customers you dealt with continuously acted like they were above you, that was just a part of working in retail.

Your anxiety was heightened during the first few days. You didn’t know anyone and you had to go through the constant motions of introducing yourself to anyone and everyone even though the very last thing you wanted to do was draw attention to yourself. The assistant store manager, Sebastian, was always checking in on you, even going as far as to ask how you were feeling mentally being thrown into such a large environment as the new person. You always responded that you were doing fine, but your anxiety was always creeping around the corner. You struggled with controlling your emotions at your previous job, always feeling so unprofessional and naive to cry or get upset when things got too much so you felt as if you needed to make a pact with yourself to not show as much emotion at this new job. 

You had noticed the pattern of male dominance throughout your new job. A lot of the women worked around the front end, leaving you to be one of the few working the floor with mainly men. You tried not to let your nerves show through each time you had to converse with some of the guys. You knew everyone here was going to be professional, but your guard was still up that one of them could act out.

The feeling of your phone continuously vibrating broke you out of your thoughts as you worked on the task at hand. You knew exactly who it was and fought the urge to roll your eyes, but even when you weren’t with him you didn’t do anything that would get you in trouble if you were in his eyesight. Taking a peek around you, you slyly pulled your phone out of your pocket, reading the texts from your boyfriend, most of them not being important but you knew the rule on texting back. Typing out a quick response with little commentary and answers to each of the texts, you slipped your phone back into your work vest.

“You doing alright over here?” you couldn’t help the small jump your body did out of habit while turning around with your hand over your chest. A small chuckle left Sebastian's mouth as he apologized for sneaking up on you. You could feel the heat rising to your face and neck, embarrassed at the thought of what he just witnessed.

“It’s fine, i’m doing fine,” you replied, nodding your head a bit towards what you were working on as if to prove that you were actually doing something productive, “I should easily be able to finish this all before i’m off today.”

“Oh good, thank you,” he smiled, “Just let me or Matthew know if you’re ever getting too overwhelmed and we’ll back off on giving you so many projects.”

“Oh trust me, compared to what i did at my last job, i am completely happy and not overwhelmed here, but thank you anyways.”

Your conversation lasted a few minutes longer before he had to run off to help out in another part of the store leaving you to get back to your task. 

The day flew by and before you knew it, it was the end of your last shift of your first week. You were overall ecstatic about working again and having such an easy going manager. The entire week went by so fast and luckily hasn’t added any more stress to your already stressful life. 

Waving goodbye to a few of your coworkers, you peeked into Sebastian’s office to see him and Matthew having a conversation. You were about to duck back out, but made eye contact with Matthew and he was quick to halt their conversation, waving you in.

“You heading out for the day?” he asked, a small smile gracing his face. 

Sebastian was the one who initially interviewed you for your job. He brought a comforting presence and was a huge reason why you felt it was a no brainer for you to take the job offer. Everyone else you talked to during the hiring process had nothing but kind things to say about him, and within the past week you understood and agreed with all the compliments that were laid upon him. Matthew was a manager you had met on your first day. You didn’t know what to expect out of him, other than the fact that Sebastian had referred to him as the peace making string bean. You initially laughed at that but upon meeting him, it was an incredibly fitting description. You felt no awkwardness or uncomfortableness around him, and thoroughly enjoyed the times you’ve gotten to work with him over the past week.

“Yeah, i’m sorry, i don’t mean to interrupt, i just wanted to wish you both a good weekend,” you retorted. You hadn’t felt much fear while working around all the men you do, but the possibility that either of them could be annoyed or upset that you just interrupted their conversation stuck in your head.

“No need to apologize, thank you, y/n,” Sebastian cut in, “You go have a great weekend, and we’ll see you bright and early on Monday, yeah?” You nodded, sending one last small wave before heading out of the office and the entire building altogether.  

Your smile faded and your nerves began to pick up on your drive home. You knew better than to talk about your new coworkers with your boyfriend, in fear that he’ll get upset that you spend so much time working with mainly other men. You used to find his jealousy endearing, thinking he was just worried to lose you, but it quickly grew tiring and left you feeling guilty and scared.

Your boyfriend had the tendency to not be able to control his anger. You’d been together for close to four years now, and about halfway through that something snapped in him and changed him for the worst. Any little thing could set him off, and while throwing verbal insults at you was his main technique, he has put his hands on you more than you’d like to admit. You felt so trapped and stupid for still being in love with him. You wanted to blame this all on a rough patch and that he was just stressed out, but it’s been a few years now and you’re worried that this is how it’ll always be. You didn’t have anyone else to turn to, and if you two broke up you didn’t know where you’d even go considering there’s no way you could afford to live on your own.

As you approached and parked near your apartment building, you quickly regain your composure and gave yourself a quick pep talk. You’ve got this, just put a smile on your face and hope he’s in a good mood. This weekend doesn’t have to be horrible.

* * *

By time Monday morning came around, more than half of your body was bruised and your confidence was at an all time low. The words your boyfriend yelled at you swam around in your brain, and the pain of the punches, slaps, and kicks he planted on you were felt over your entire body. He’d never been so ruthless when it came to his beatings before and you knew it was because you didn’t shut up about work and he had figured out about how much you work with other men. You just wanted to share how good things were going, but you should’ve known how fast doing that had the potential to upset him.

He had usually been careful to avoid your face, but this time there was a prominent black eye forming and no amount of makeup would cover it so you made sure you had an excuse to give to anyone who asks what happened. You dreaded the conversations that were bound to happen as you walked into work, your anxiety at an all time high at the thought of facing both Sebastian and Matthew. 

The day started off as good as it was going to get. Every time you bent over or extended your body too far you were reminded of every hit your body took. You felt your anger rising every time you winced or had to deeply exhale. Every time something like this happened you always questioned why you put yourself through it but always come back to the two answers: as horrible as it was, you still loved him. You had such good times together and sometimes he just got angry, and most of the time you could find the blame in yourself for making him angry. Also, you were stuck. Even if you didn’t love him anymore and were actively looking for an escape, you wouldn’t be able to afford anything on your own and you would have nowhere to go.

“Y/n?” You winced at Matthew’s voice behind you. You didn’t want to turn around, but you also knew that you would come off as rude and the last thing you wanted to do was make someone else mad.

“Goodmorning Matthew,” you offered back, slowly turning around to face him. You cringed at the look on his face and quickly avoided eye contact.

“I had a couple people inform me that you had a black eye so I wanted to check for myself and lo and behold you do. Are you okay?” He asks. You wanted to laugh at the question, but instinctually nodded.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you quickly answered, “I was cleaning this weekend and slipped while mopping the kitchen. Fell right onto the corner of my counter,” you chuckled, hoping your lie sounded realistic. He eyed you for a second longer, not seeming to buy your excuse. You could feel your heart rate spike and habitually began playing with your nails. He looked down towards your movements before looking back up to make eye contact with you which you held for a few seconds before choosing to look anywhere but his eyes. You cursed at yourself for being so obvious, but you didn’t know how else to act in this situation.

“It looks like it hurts, do you need anything?” He continued. You shook your head no, already knowing you’ve taken enough ibuprofen for the day and even that wasn’t helping too much so you just have to work through the pain.

“I’m fine, promise.”

You could tell by his expression that he was uncomfortable with the conversation and that it clearly wasn’t going the way he wanted it too, but he seemed to let it go for now with a simple “let me know if you need anything, mine and sebastian’s doors are always open” to which you thanked him and turned back around to your task. You could feel his eyes linger on you for a second longer before he walked away. You let out a deep breath, leaning your forehead against the shelf in front of you. You knew you were a horrible liar. You had even practiced for conversations exactly like that and still you sucked at lying. It’s like you couldn’t do anything right.

With one last deep sigh you attempted to get back to work, but your mind wouldn’t stop replaying the conversation over in your head. You thought of all the ways it could’ve gone, and all the other things you could’ve said to seem less suspicious. You cursed at yourself for fucking up yet another thing. 

You avoided eye contact with any other coworkers, and customers after that. Keeping your head down was your best option to not bring any more attention to yourself. Your entire body ached, including the splitting headache that was starting to form from either thinking too hard, or the throbbing that was going on around your eye. Potentially both things at the same time.

You jumped a bit at the sound of your work walkie talkie going off in your pocket.

“Hey y/n, can you come to my office when you get a chance?” The familiar sound of Sebastian's voice rang through the area you stood in. Your heart dropped, the idea of being in a small room with a man not seeming like the best idea, but he was also your boss and you couldn’t just say no.

“Yeah, i’ll be there in just a minute,” you responded, quickly starting to clean up the little mess you had created in your work area before taking your sweet time walking to Sebastian’s office. You know it was ridiculous to even think that he was going to hurt you, but after the weekend you had it was going to take a bit of time to not be uncomfortable around anyone and everyone. 

The sound of both Matthew and Sebastian’s voice rang in your ears as you approached the office. You heard the last bit of what Matthew was saying and instantly had the urge to just run out of the building altogether. 

“I’m telling you Seb, this isn’t a slip-in-the-kitchen black eye, this is a black eye you get when someone punches you. I’m surprised her nose isn’t broken or something.”

You squeezed your eyes shut, willing yourself not to cry. You tried to build yourself up, thinking of every excuse you could and practicing every reassuring sentence you could think of that might get them off your back. It wasn’t their business after all, right?

With one last deep breath, you knocked on the cracked open door and slowly stepped through it. Your eyes were instantly drawn to Sebastian and the stern face he held. His eyes scanned your face before unintentionally running down your body as if to look for any other exposed bruises. His face loosened up upon returning back to your frightened gaze.

“Everything okay? Am i in trouble or something?” you asked, looking in between the two men. Your body felt like it was on fire from both the bruises covering it, and the intense gaze you were receiving from both of them. Their gazes softened a bit more at your question as they both shook their heads, shutting down the idea that i was in trouble.

“No, no y/n, you’ve done nothing wrong. I just wanted to check in on you, with this black eye and all. I know Matthew’s already checked in on you, but i just wanted to see how you are doing,” Sebastian spoke up. You looked between the both of them and felt a bit of anger rise at the uncomfortable situation you’ve been put into. You told Matthew you were fine, why couldn’t he have just kept to himself?

“Like i told Matthew earlier, i’m fine, just fell is all,” you retorted, sending a small glance at Matthew hoping he would get the hint that you weren’t too happy about this conversation. 

“Looks like more than a fall,” Sebastian continued to say while standing up to lean against his desk. You unintentionally moved back a bit, not taking much notice of your own actions over your heartbeat being the only thing you could currently hear. Sebastian and Matthew shared a look before Sebastian took a step away from his desk, approaching you a bit more. You flinched and took another step back, accidentally backing right into the doorknob hitting a big bruise that covered your lower back. You couldn’t help the gasp that escaped your lips as you brought a hand back to cover the spot you had just bumped trying to release some of the pain by rubbing it. 

Sebastian was quick to retreat as he watched you fully flinch away from him. He was more than four feet away from you even when he did take a few steps towards you, but your reaction was enough for him to confirm some of his suspicions. 

“Hey Matthew, do you think we could have the room?” Sebastian asked, getting a curt nod from Matthew as he looked back towards you and offered you a sympathetic smile. Honestly you didn’t want that. You didn’t want anyone's sympathetic or pitiful looks. You deserved everything that happened to you. You could feel tears forming in your eyes and instantly felt shameful. You made a pact with yourself to not show weakness and it’s only taken you a week or so and your emotions are already coming through.

You continuously blinked, willing your tears to go away as you scooted away from the door allowing Matthew to leave the room. Sebastian gestured at a chair near him and you hesitated to take it. You knew it would hurt to sit down and that there was no hiding the grimaces, but the look in Sebastian's eyes let you know that he’s already caught on to a lot of what's going on. 

You approached the chair and slowly sat down, trying to hold back how much pain you felt from putting pressure on the bruise on your tailbone and the one on the back of your left thigh.

“Are you safe?” was the first question he asked you, and before you could even think you habitually nodded. You knew it was a lie, and deep down you knew things were just going to get worse. You’d never seen your boyfriend as mad as he was over the weekend. It was like a constant where he’d just see you and see red. You walked on eggshells all weekend, and even before you left for work today you felt as if you weren’t allowed to take up any space. You were the furthest thing from safe. You looked up and made eye contact with Sebastian and instantly regretted it. The tears that you had managed to push back made their way to your eyes quicker than ever and fell before you had the chance to hide them.

“I’m sorry,” you whimpered out, covering your face. You were humiliated that all of this was going on. You had gotten away with covering bruises and hiding emotions from all your coworkers at your previous job. The attention you were receiving now made you think maybe everyone you previously worked with were just assholes, but also that you would rather be ignored than be seen how you are right now. 

“y/n... why are you apologizing?” he breathed out, scooting his chair a bit closer to yours.

“I made a pact not to cry and here i am a week in and already crying in front of you.” 

“Well you’re clearly crying about something important so why don’t you tell me about that,” you shook your head, looking up at him for the first time since you started crying. You could feel a sob escaping your mouth before you could push it back down while shaking your head back and forth. 

“I can’t tell you,” you sobbed out.

“Listen, I know your outside life isn’t any of my business, but I also care about every employee in this building and seeing you come in with a black eye and clearly other bruises on your body, I’m just worried.”

You sat there for a second contemplating all of your choices. You could continue to lie and push everything back stating that he was indeed right, your outside life was none of his business, or you could tell him the truth and let him in on one of your deepest secrets. You could feel your head pounding, and you could hear your heartbeat grow erratic. Your tears had momentarily stopped but now your entire body was in panic mode. You couldn’t continue to make eye contact with him and instead chose to look down at your hands in your lap. 

“I’ll lose everything. It’s either this or nothing, Sebastian. I’m fine, i’ve been fine,” you offered up. You weren’t lying, but even what you said felt wrong coming out. how did you end up like this? How stupid are you to let yourself get this deep in the abuse and the relationship altogether?

“Hey, please look at me,” he scooted even closer, his knees nearly touching your own. His voice was soft, almost pleading so you gave in and lifted your head. You weren’t used to being talked so gently to, “Is your partner the one doing this to you?” he grimaced a bit at the question, almost like he felt bad even suggesting that incase he was wrong, but the way his body tensed up at your eyes quickly averting away from him you knew he got his answer.

“He loves me. I just do and say things that he doesn’t like,” you shrugged as if what you just said wasn’t a major problem. Your eyes began to fill with tears again and you let out an annoyed huff, “I’m sorry Sebastian, i really shouldn’t be telling you any of this. There’s nothing you can do to help me. I’ve grown used to the fact that i am stuck in my relationship.”

“y/n please look at me,” he asked again, seemingly satisfied when you complied, “just that sentence alone is enough to scare me. A grown man, hell even a child knows not to hit other people. There’s nothing normal about this situation and you need to get out of it. I’m not going to sit here and say it’ll be smooth sailing and that you’ll instantly be happy once it’s over, but for your own safety and livelihood i need you to know that it’s not your fault that he’s hurting you. There’s nothing you could do or say to justify the pain you’re in right now.”

You wanted to fight him on that but the look on his face told you to not even try. He seemed genuinely upset, distraught even. 

“What am i supposed to do?” you ask, throwing your hands up to gesture your frustration. 

“Do you have anyone else you can stay with?” you shook your head no, informing him that the only reason you moved up here was so your boyfriend could get you away from your loved ones. He grunted at that, rolling his chair back so he was back near his desk. He started to search something on his computer and the looks of a hotel made your eyes go wide.

“I can’t put anything like that on my card. He’ll see it and freak.”

“I wasn’t expecting you to pay for this. I’ll pay for it so it’ll have no trace to your name. So there’s your living situation for a while until we can get you something better. I will also happily help you with getting any of your belongings out of your current place. My close buddy is a police here in town and can also accompany us to ensure your absolute safety because there’s no guarantee without him that i wouldn’t beat the shit out of your boyfriend,” he talked so casually like what he was saying wasn’t changing your entire life. You shook your head not being able to wrap your mind around this true chance to get away from your boyfriend. There’s so many things that could go wrong, would all of this be worth it when there’s always that possibility that your boyfriend could absolutely lose it and want to actually kill you? There’s so many stories out there of partners exactly like your boyfriend that won’t take a break up seriously and come back to stalk, hurt and kill their exes. would you end up just another one of those damaged ex girlfriends?

The two of you sat in silence for a minute before he finally looked away from his computer screen and looked at your frightened face. He would never understand how your mind works through this terrible situation but he so badly wanted to help. 

“Why are you willing to help me so much?” You manage to ask. You look up at him and see something flash over his expression before it goes back to being soft. 

“You’re worth more than you think. You’re sure as hell worth more than being beaten down by scum. I care, i know matthew cares, even the others who brought up your black eye to both of us care. You just haven't been shown affection like that in who knows how long and think i’m doing something crazy here when really i just want you to be safe and happy. it’s what any decent human wants for everyone else.”

For the first time in years you had the urge to hug. You wanted to throw your arms around Sebastian and say a million thank yous, but you didn’t want to overstep.

“Sebastian i just - i don’t know what to say,” you chuckled out through the few tears that slipped out. 

“You don’t have to say anything, let’s just talk over this a bit, i’ll give my friend a call and we’ll get a plan set up.” you nodded as you both stood up. Your legs felt weak and the pain of standing straight up was overwhelming but you sufficed through. 

He watched how you moved and a deep frown covered his face. Your previous thoughts of overstepped evacuated your mind and without thinking you couldn’t stop yourself from throwing your arms around him. It took a second for him to register what was going on, but he was gentle to wrap his arms around your back. You felt tense, but the second he reciprocated the hug your body loosened up and a small sense of happiness floated throughout your entire being. Everything was going to change. You were actually going to do this. There was so much that was going to happen, but for the first time in forever you felt relieved so for now, you were just going to embrace that.

A/N - please let me know if i should do another part to this! I do have more ideas for the storyline that would involve more of a relationship between the reader and sebastian, but i don’t want to do it if no one else wants that hahah

#sebastian stan x reader #bucky barnes x reader #sebastian stan x reader angst #matthew gray gubler x reader #matthew gray gubler x reader angst #spencer reid x reader angst #sebastian stan angst #sebastian stan #mgg x reader #mgg angst

[yellowocaballero]

Continuation of Human Relations (Oh My God, They Were Roommates)

This is a 16k story that’s a bit too short for AO3 but a bit too long for Tumblr that acts as a continuation of my Archivist!Sasha and Immortal!Jon fic Human Relations. I recommend that you read that before this. This story takes place between S2 and S3, and is about Sasha and Georgie’s roommate adventures. I’m uncertain if I’ll continue this and post it on AO3, post it on AO3 as it is, or what, but for the time being I’ll at least post it here. 

Serious content warnings for discussion of abusive friendships, gaslighting, discussion of 19th century racism, implied transphobia, and discussion of police brutality. Nothing more serious than what we saw in Human Relations, but it does have a much more explicit investigation of Jon and Elias’ relationship. Rest under the cut. Happy Birthday, @magickko. 

EDIT: HAHA READMORE DIDN’T WORK, YIKES. 

Sasha dreams, every night.

Nightmares, mostly. Statements given and Statements stolen run endlessly through her head in a scrolling loop, crying out for mercy, as its figures cry and scream. Sasha looks at them through a camera, pushing the button and clicking the shutter again and again and again, searching for that perfect shot frozen in time. 

A woman, trapped under a thousand pounds of dirt and crumpling metal. Snap. A woman, chewing keycaps, eyes riveted on a flickering screen. Snap. A woman, lost in her fiance’s grave, pleading for someone to find her. Snap. 

A man, eating canned peaches, alone. Snap. A man, swinging an axe with a frantic strength born of terror. Snap. A man, and the look in his eyes, betrayed. Snap. A man, gunshot wound leaking blood out of his chest, eyes rolling in the fluorescent lights. Snap.

When Sasha wakes up she is always surprised to find herself in a guest room, always out of place and out of time as she stares up at an unfamiliar ceiling. Maybe the worst part is those two seconds after waking, where she doesn’t know where she is, adrift in time and space. Then she remembers, and she’s faced with the situation all over again. 

Namely, the fact that she was couch surfing in the Grim Reaper’s guest bedroom. 

Sasha dreams, every night.

Nightmares, mostly. Statements given and Statements stolen run endlessly through her head in a scrolling loop, crying out for mercy, as its figures cry and scream. Sasha looks at them through a camera, pushing the button and clicking the shutter again and again and again, searching for that perfect shot frozen in time. 

A woman, trapped under a thousand pounds of dirt and crumpling metal. Snap. A woman, chewing keycaps, eyes riveted on a flickering screen. Snap. A woman, lost in her fiance’s grave, pleading for someone to find her. Snap. 

A man, eating canned peaches, alone. Snap. A man, swinging an axe with a frantic strength born of terror. Snap. A man, and the look in his eyes, betrayed. Snap. A man, gunshot wound leaking blood out of his chest, eyes rolling in the fluorescent lights. Snap.

When Sasha wakes up she is always surprised to find herself in a guest room, always out of place and out of time as she stares up at an unfamiliar ceiling. Maybe the worst part is those two seconds after waking, where she doesn’t know where she is, adrift in time and space. Then she remembers, and she’s faced with the situation all over again. 

Namely, the fact that she was couch surfing in the Grim Reaper’s guest bedroom. 

Georgie Barker wasn’t a mystery, and she’d be the first to tell you.

Of course you’re welcome to stay as long as you need, honey! I always love having Jonah owe me a favor. Don’t worry about the cops and the law, nobody will ever find you here. Seriously, the entire department’s in my pocket. It’s no hassle having you here, it’s a big flat! It’s been years since I’ve had a roommate, this’ll be fun!

The one thing she hadn’t understood was Sasha begging her not to let Jon in to see her. He knows exactly where you are, Georgie pointed out. He knows you’re not actually a murderer, Georgie said. He might be able to help explain some of what’s going on, Georgie hinted. Jon would respect my wishes, but if Jonah really wants him to talk to you, he’ll definitely do it...

“Please,” Sasha had croaked, the uncomfortable morning after she had stumbled into Georgie’s flat. The Admiral wove around her legs, purring up a storm, and Georgie was munching on avocado toast and sipping pomegranate juice. “I just - I just need some space.”

“Why?” Georgie asked obliviously. That was something that Sasha was rapidly learning about Georgie - she didn’t hold back with impolite questions, or her opinion. She seemed to be regarding Sasha’s life as her own personal Youtuber Drama, which Sasha really didn’t know how she felt about. Her life wasn’t a spectacle, but she guessed even the warfare and tragedy of ants were of obscure and strange interest to humanity. “He’s feeling, like, totally bad about framing you for murder. I can tell he super wants to apologize to you about everything.”

Martin’s words echoed through her mind, from what felt like a decade ago: Jon had ruined Martin’s life, but to him it was as simple as a momentary inconvenience. “I don’t want his apology,” Sasha croaked. “I want not to be on the run from the police. I want to go back to my flat. Unless he’s going to make me human again I don’t want any stupid apologies. They’re useless.”

“Hm. Well, you’re free to stay here as long as you need to, of course.” Georgie sipped at her tea. They were sitting around the breakfast table, Sasha desolately shoving eggs into her mouth as Georgie drank her tea that Sasha was reasonably sure was spiked with brandy. Rich people were literally never sober. “It’ll be so much fun, like a sleepover. We can do each other’s nails and talk about boys!”

“My boyfriend thought I was a monster for the past month and now thinks I’m a murderer,” Sasha said flatly. 

“Oh, I see.” Georgie tapped her lips thoughtfully. “We have to get you laid, huh?”

“I am literally on the run from the cops.”

“That’s very sexy to some people,” Georgie assured her. 

After that, Georgie waved goodbye and swanned out of the house, either going to her studio to work on her podcast or doing some work for her real estate empire or writing a best-selling book or schmoozing with celebrities or attending parties at exclusive nightclubs or working part-time as a bartender just for gossip or devouring souls. Just from Sasha’s one day at Georgie’s flat, she knew that she did all of these things and then some. It was a stunning contrast to Jon’s laziness, or Elias (Jonah’s) single-mindedness. 

Maybe you lost the energy to be so productive after your two hundredth year. Sasha didn’t fucking know. Hopefully she would never know. Or maybe Jon just appeared to be lazy, and every moment that he was complaining about being bored he was secretly manipulating world leaders. Maybe Jonah’s dedication to spreadsheets and dress code was a front, and he was secretly pulling the puppet strings of her entire life…

In the empty spaces of Georgie’s spacious flat, it was easy to be paranoid. Sasha lay on her luxurious couch, hands folded across her chest like a corpse, trying not to think of anything, thinking of everything. Thinking of Tim: of his smile, of his scowl, of his cold looks given to someone he had thought was a stranger. Thinking of Martin: his warm smile, his sharp looks. 

She struggled to think of other friends, other family members who gave her comfort, but drew up a blank. Her parent’s faces were blurred after ten years of no contact, not so much forgotten as repressed, and her baby siblings were likely unrecognizable to her now. Almost as unrecognizable as she was to them, probably. Tim, her boyfriend who hated her, and Martin, her subordinate who she had almost never had a conversation with that wasn’t about work or Jon...that was it. All the friends she had in the world. She was sleeping in the guest room of a podcast host/Grim Reaper whom she had met once, and that was all she had.

Loneliness was Sasha’s constant companion. In a crowd, in her family, in the world - no matter how many people she had been surrounded by, she had always been alone. She had never had anybody in the world to rely on besides herself, and for the first time in a long time she was achingly aware of it. Nobody who loved her was going to help her. She was alone now.

After an hour of lying on the couch and crying, Sasha desolately watched Netflix cooking shows on Georgie’s gigantic flat-screen TV, trying very hard to think of absolutely nothing at all. She only moved to pet Georgie’s silky long-haired cat whose name she had already forgotten, and even he left quickly once she lost the energy to give him attention.

That was how Georgie found Sasha when she came home: lying on the couch, still dressed in borrowed silk pyjamas, watching idiots on television fuck up cakes. Georgie’s arms were laden with shopping bags, with names of exclusive London boutiques sprawled along the side, her deep black pits of eyes hidden by designer sunglasses. She burst through the door happily, her cat running up to her and winding through her laps as he purred, and easily kicked off her red pumps. She stopped in the doorway of the living room, looking strangely excited. 

“Sorry I’m back to late! Utterly bogged up at work, there was a plane crash and I was processing corpses for hours. I had to do some serious retail therapy just to deal with the tedium - darling, have you moved?”

Sasha grunted. 

“You look like Mikey Crew threw you off the Shard,” Georgie said sympathetically. “Utterly disastrous. Don’t worry, Aunt Georgie’s here to make you feel better.” She lifted her bag triumphantly. “I bought you new outfits!”

Sasha eyed her warily. 

“You get no say in this,” Georgie said kindly. “Chop chop, we’re doing face masks too.”

That’s how, somehow, Sasha found herself playing an unwilling dress-up doll for the Grim Reaper. Georgie had taken Sasha’s casual mention that she had no clothing besides her work pantsuit to heart, and had hit up her favorite boutiques for ‘cute outfits that accentuated her figure and made her eyes pop!’. Or something. Sasha wasn’t much one for fashion. 

As it turned out, Georgie Barker had a walk-in closet. Because of course she did. 

The looks ranged from Sasha’s usual, as Georgie put it, ‘sexy librarian’ look, to ballgowns, to tennis outfits, to moddish, to vintage, to wintery. It was February, the seasons lingering in British chill, and according to Georgie the perfect solution to this was a mink coat that was probably worth a month’s rent on her flat. 

Strangely, all of the outfits fit perfectly - and Sasha knew that her measurements were difficult to find. Georgie took it in stride, clapping enthusiastically each time and suggesting accessories and how to mix and match the outfits. 

She would have thought that she was too dead inside to actually enjoy it, but so far as distractions went it actually worked pretty well. Georgie chatted about everything but their actual problems, and Sasha had absolutely no input or choice in what Georgie decided to dress her in, and by the time they had transitioned from nail painting to watching Legally Blonde and eating ice cream from the carton Sasha was actually feeling a little relaxed. 

“The musical’s better,” Georgie informed Sasha imperiously as Sasha dug around in her carton for chunks of cookie dough. Georgie was clutching a glass of wine in one hand, while Sasha was contenting herself with ice cream. Best not to drink when she was this sad. “Reese is such a doll, though. Allergic to shellfish, poor dear, but I told her not to let Leo pick the restaurant.”

“What I’m wondering,” Sasha said carefully, teeth cracking into the frozen chunk of cookie dough, “is that half the time when I see you, you’re dressed like a 2008 goth in jeans and t-shirts.”

“Oh, honey,” Georgie said pityingly, patting her hand. “I used to spend two hours getting dressed each morning. I’m never doing that to myself again. You, however, clearly have never had nice clothing in your life. It’s written all over your face. People’ll walk all over you if you always look like you’re straight from a charity shop. We gotta buy you some self-confidence.”

“Thanks. I think.” On screen, Elle flourished and achieved her dreams. Sasha tried not to feel jealous. “It’s not really as if I had a lot of girly sleepovers as a kid…”

“Word,” Georgie said sympathetically. She patted Sasha’s hand again. “Jon was the same way, you know. I can’t count the number of times I’ve had to renovate that boy’s wardrobe. He has no idea how to dress to impress.”

“Do we have to talk about Jon right now,” Sasha groused. “He’s the last person I want to think about.”

“He means well,” Georgie soothed, as Elle Woods proudly proclaimed on television how she, yes, she, was a strong independent woman - who didn’t need a man! “It’s not his fault he’s stupid. He’s just so helpless on his own, you know, he needs girls like you and me to make sure he’s not wasting a decade fixating on obscure Bolivian religious practices or whatever.”

“Helpless? He’s a two hundred year old man.” Sasha spitefully grabbed the bottle of wine from the coffee table, pouring it into a spare glass and drinking it quickly. It probably cost thousands of pounds, but it just tasted like wine to her. “It’s not my job to make sure his little feelings aren’t hurt.”

“Of course not,” Georgie said, but Sasha had the sense she was being calmed instead of listened to. “But Jon’s...you know.”

“I don’t, actually.”

Georgie made an interpretive hand gesture. Sasha stared at her blankly. 

“...I still don’t.”

Georgie sighed. “He’s delicate. Jonah babies him, honestly.” She patted Sasha’s hand for the third time, making her skin crawl. “Don’t worry, I won’t let him see you until you’re ready to forgive him. Every woman has the right to some time to herself after a guy fucks her over. You two’ll patch things up, right as rain.”

There was nothing Sasha wanted to say to that, nothing she wanted to think about, and she kept drinking her wine and watching the movie, out of lack of any other options.

That night, she drunkenly tipped into bed, so blasted that she slid immediately into sleep and did not dream. It was the first relief she’d had in what felt like a very long time. 

It wasn’t Sasha’s job to fix Jonathan Sims. 

It really, really wasn’t. It wasn’t her job to make him feel better, or forgive him, or save him from himself. If Martin wanted to waste his time and energy doing that, then god fucking speed, but Sasha had other priorities. She had been profoundly fucked over and had her trust abused by three different men lately, and she wasn’t going to be the one to patch things up.

Two of them she had no desire to patch things up with at all. Two of them she’d be perfectly happy if she never saw again. The last one...Sasha didn’t know what she felt. But that was nothing new. 

That being said, as Sasha chewed her way through hangover medication and an acai bowl the next morning, Georgie’s inane chattering about tricking some celebrity or another into taking her to Hungary for authentic Hungarian food didn’t register nearly as loudly in Sasha’s mind as her words about Jonah and Jon. 

Jonah babies Jon. That was what she had said. It...it was accurate, right? It had to be. Georgie had known Jonah and Jon for a hundred years, and Sasha had barely heard one authentic conversation between them. She’d known them for a year, and known Jonah’s true nature for maybe a few days. There was no way Sasha understood their relationship better than Georgie did. It just didn’t make sense. 

Finally, she put her spoon down, cutting Georgie off in the middle of her ramble about the majesty of Hungarian food made by genuine Hungarian grandma hands. “What did you mean, ‘Jonah babies Jon’?”

Georgie blinked at her, clearly barely remembering the conversation, before recognition dawned. Then she shrugged, sipping her protein smoothie. Which may or may not be spiked. It seemed as if her solution to hangovers was to just not stop being drunk. “Oh, you know how those two are. Jon swans around the world doing whatever he wants, Jonah holds the fort down at home. That’s why Jon’s fun, you know.” She sighed nostalgically. “Romantic cruises to the Bahamas for two months, we tear up the Bahaman government and start a minor military coup, then we take a tour of the beaches. You haven’t lived until you’ve dug your toes into Bahaman sand.” 

That was something Georgie said frequently: you haven’t lived until you’ve done X, Y, or Z. It seemed as if Georgie was very intent on living, and very intent on defining it in discretionary ways. To Sasha, living was simply the act of not being dead, but Georgie was almost fanatical about experiencing life. 

“If he’s so much fun, then why did you break up?” Sasha asked, before she realized what she said. “I mean, it’s really none of my business, feel free not to answer that -”

But Georgie just laughed lightly. “That’s just how Jon and I work. We spend a few weeks together in bliss, and then we go our separate ways for six months or a year or whatever. Work’s always taking us different places, and seeing each other all day would make us hate each other. Some people work best when they’re not in each other’s pocket.” She took a long drag of the smoothie before speaking again. “Besides, he’ll always be second in my life to having fun. And I’ll always be second in his life to Jonah. It’s just how we work. It works for us!”

It seemed to. Last Sasha checked, Georgie and Jon seemed to be very amicable despite being exes. Lackadaisical, on-and-off, passionate yet going years without seeing each other - it was a relationship uniquely in the providence of workaholic immortals. 

It wasn’t until Georgie had already waved goodbye, making Sasha promise not to spend all day on the couch again, that she realized that Georgie hadn’t quite answered her question. 

An image flashed through Sasha’s mind - Jon’s face, as he dared to disagree with Jonah, and was utterly ground into the dust for it. 

There was something more to this. Something that wasn’t obvious on the surface, something that was so well hidden maybe nobody even knew it was going on. Or maybe it was deeper than that, more insidious: maybe whatever was going on was so well-known and pervasive that it simply wasn’t spoken about. Not polite, not the kind of thing you say about your friends, not normal. Not in polite company. Not vocalized. Utterly taken for granted. 

Sasha walked into the guest room, pulling out her phone from her bag and staring at its blank screen. Holding her breath, she hesitantly turned it on, staring at it blankly as it slowly booted up. 

She shouldn’t be turning it on. She was perfectly aware of how, given a warrant, the police could track cell phone location, texts sent and received, everything. She could do it herself. The crushing weight of surveillance, the fear of being found and seen and rooted out, settled over her shoulders like an old, familiar friend. A comforting blanket to wrap herself up in at night: where, even if the fear was terrible and awful, at least it was familiar. 

You could get used to anything, Sasha thought. Any behavior, any fears, any horrors or tragedies - anything could become normal, given enough time. A year. A hundred years. After two hundred years, maybe you wouldn’t even recognize it as happening at all.

Like a flood, the text messages poured in. Notifications chimed in a cacophony, as text after text after text popped up on her phone. Missed calls. Emails popped up, notifications from the doorbell camera, reminders from her fucking Duolingo...

Dizzily, Sasha scrolled through the texts. Lots from Tim, as expected, and a few from Martin, as expected. Some texts from her mother, which - which wasn’t expected. At all. Sasha hadn’t even known that she knew her number. 

Sasha’s brain stuttered over the Spanish, having been years since she spoke it. Her brain also stuttered over the gratuitous misgendering, which was also blissfully novel yet just as uncomfortable and upsetting as ever. Translated, it was a slightly accusatory question about why the police had been calling them about her whereabouts. What had she done? Had she gotten in trouble?

No matter what you did, the text read, God will forgive you. Just call them back. 

Sasha stared at the texts, brain buzzing. She felt sick. Forgive her? They’d forgive her? They thought she’d done it? They thought she was capable of -

Horribly, awfully, tears pricked at her eyes. Maybe she was wrong. Maybe you never really grew accustomed to pain, even if it was felt a thousand times. Maybe some pain you never acclimated to, never scarred over or calloused. Maybe sometimes the more you were hurt, the worse it hurt. The pain her parents gave her - how they cut off contact, the misgendering, the coldness - hurt just as badly at thirty six as it had at twenty six, at twenty, at fifteen, at nine. It had always hurt. 

So stupid. Sasha deleted the text messages. She didn’t have time for this. She wasn’t a child. She was thirty six goddamn years old, that was way too old to still care about your parents. To still need them.

She clicked on Martin’s texts next. The first one had a timestamp before the murder, the rest afterwards.

Martin: where are you?? I found Tim (he tried to kill me w/an axe but we’re ok now) and were trying to get out of here. I explained everything to him. We’ll meet you in the archives. 

Martin: Police are looking for you. I know you didn’t do it so call me back. Tim’s worried. Jon doesn’t seem that worried...

Martin: Shouldn’t text you anymore. Please be safe & careful. 

Jesus. Jesus, she had been terrible to Martin. She was a rotten friend. Sasha hiccuped, rubbing at her eyes. She needed to get him a gift basket. Five. He was a freak, but he was her freak. Maybe. 

Finally, almost holding her breath, she pressed on Tim’s messages. There were a lot of them - more than was safe, Sasha distantly registered. The first five were from the same time Martin had sent the second text. She guessed it was right after the police finished talking to them. He had called her slightly before - likely when they found the body - but there were also two texts from two am last night. 

Tim: pick up your phone

Tim: pick up your phone are you okay im so sorry

Tim: baby please please pick up

Tim: we need to talk & im sorry & i hope ur safe

Tim: dont text me back 

Then two texts from two am:

Tim: to warn you im drunk but im sorry (AND DRUNK) but in my defense im a shitty boyfriend. If you want to break up its fine but id like to make it work but i get if you cant because cops i guess. Bitch tonner wont stop bothering me make her stoppp

Tim: I love you and I wish that was enough. 

Sasha rubbed at her eyes, exhausted. She wished it was enough too. She knew it wasn’t. Strongly, like burning, Sasha wished so desperately that she had never met Jonathan Sims. Maybe, in that world, things were okay. She and Tim were happy. 

She scrolled through the rest of the notifications. Strangely, she even had two texts from Melanie. 

Melanie: Hey, I heard what’s going on. I know you couldn’t have done it. A LOT of cops are bothering me - Hussein and Tonner have called like five times. I think you know them? For legal purposes I’ll say that you should turn yourself in or whatever. 

Melanie: oh and Martin said to tell you that Mr. Bouchard’s been asking me a lot of questions about what im doing and my job situation - dunno y tho

That….probably wasn’t good. 

No texts from Jon. She wouldn’t know what to do if he had. She doubted he knew her number, or how to work a phone. The last thing she could deal with emotionally right now was an apology. She didn’t know what to do about Tonner or Hussein or Melanie. Those were all problems she couldn’t fix right now. 

Really, there was only one problem she could fix right now. She walked over to the door to the balcony, carefully stepping out onto the 20th story balcony. She carefully ejected her SIM card, snapped it in half, looked underneath her to make sure there were no passerby in the exclusive London neighborhood, and forced her fingers to release from the phone so she could watch it fall twenty stories onto the concrete. 

She imagined a smash, a crack, but it didn’t make any sound at all. Sasha forced herself to step back inside, leaving the past behind her. 

There was a lot Sasha had to force herself to do that day. Georgie owned a few laptops, but she hadn’t given Sasha permission to use any of them yet, and she didn’t want to intrude. Despite Sasha’s own...reservations about her personality, she really was being incredibly kind by letting her stay and trying to cheer her up. She did, however, have a great deal of antique books, and Sasha eagerly cracked open the first edition copies of fiction novels from the 19th century. Was that a first edition Pride & Prejudice? Oh, score!

She wasn’t hungry, but she forced herself to eat. Food tasted like ash in her mouth, but that always happened whenever she was upset. She forced herself to take a shower, impossibly intimidated by Georgie’s small army of hair care and hygiene products, and even cautiously let herself take a bubble bath with a bath bomb. It was...weirdly luxurious, but maybe not surprisingly. Georgie’s bathroom was like the Queen’s, and you could practically swim in the bathtub. It was intimidating and weird and uncomfortable, but Sasha forced herself to appreciate it. How many people got to take a shower in a stall with five different showerheads?

Halfway through the day the housekeeper came in, terrifying Sasha deeply, and she retreated to her guest bedroom to let the woman work. She inspected her newly painted toenails glumly, halfway through Pride & Prejudice, forcing herself not to think about how Jon could have been a background character in the novel. Wasn’t he in his twenties in this time period? Wasn’t that when he and Jonah Magnus had -

Sasha drank more wine, and put on another cooking program. She hadn’t watched telly all day, so technically she could tell Georgie that. Besides, it wasn’t as if there was anything productive to do. No work, which sucked when she was a workaholic. No computer to waste time on. No friends she could talk to without the police investigating her. She couldn’t go outside, again due to the aforementioned cop situation. Her life was her work, and her bosses had just framed her for murder. 

Somewhat buzzed, Sasha stole several pieces of intricate stationary and wrote down everything Leitner had told her before he was murdered. It wasn’t nearly as much as she wanted, yet far more than she knew what to do with. Halfway through her notes deteriorated into a bizarre sort of mind map, lists of cases connected together and obscure monsters and figures pointing to each other. Salasea and his endless array of dangerous trinkets, mysterious yet lonely ship captains, Michael and his gently twisting deceit, Gerry Keay and his bizarre heroism, Leitner and his ruinous imprints, Agnes and her desolate fate, and the oft-mentioned yet barely understood man, whose name was whispered by shadowy figures entrenched in  the supernatural world, Jonathan Sims…

Did he know? How often his shadow stained her statements? Did he care? Did he know how thoroughly he had ruined her life? 

She scoured her memory for hints, writing down everything she could remember of his cameos in random statements. Of Leitner’s testimony, the immortal figure who so easily attained what Leitner and Mary Keay had spent their entire lives grasping for. Was there a hint to his true nature, his true allegiance? 

In the corners of the cute stationary, Sasha doodled a small eye. She stared at it, and couldn’t help but fight the notion that it was staring back. 

She scratched it out, feeling paranoid, not feeling paranoid enough. 

A few hours later, Georgie came home, and Sasha fought the pathetically hopeful trepidation. When she heard the front door rattle she left her room, intending on welcoming Georgie back and proving that she hadn’t been watching telly all day, but she stopped short in the hallway when she heard the loud sound of voices. Specifically, the loud sound of Georgie’s still slightly unfamiliar voice, and the quieter tones of a voice that was far too familiar to her.  

“ - if you’ll just let me talk to her, she’ll understand.”

“And she said that she’s not seeing you,” Georgie said firmly. Sasha held her breath, pressing herself up against the hallway wall. Next to her was a doorway that led to the living room, that led to a foyer. If she craned her head she could just barely see Georgie standing in the foyer, arguing with a figure holding a leather briefcase that made Sasha’s heart leap into her throat. “You really did screw her over, you know.”

“I know,” Jonathan Sims whined. “I want to apologize. It’s not my fault. Jonah got pushy again, you know how he is.”

“Ugh, tell me about it.” Georgie scoffed. “Did something happen between you two? Sasha was asking all sorts of weird questions.”

“Just Jonah being his usual insufferable self,” Jon said, so carelessly and casually that if Sasha hadn’t known better she would have believed him. “It probably alarmed her, seeing how that man really is. I’m sure she’s feeling very overwhelmed right now.”

“She really is, the poor dear,” Georgie said sympathetically. Sasha’s hands clenched into fists. “But you aren’t getting past this foyer, honey. I’m sure she’ll want to be friends again once Jonah gets the cops off her case.”

“Martin’s giving me a hard time,” Jon sulked. “Says this is all my fault that the dreadful little wolf girl is sniffing around. It’s not my fault. If my Archivist just let me explain, she’d see that it’s not my fault.”

“That Blackwood boy’s always giving you a hard time,” Georgie sniffed. “I don’t know why you’re so obsessed with him. He’s overly moralistic and doesn’t know how to have fun. You spend too much time with him.”

“Don’t tell me you’re jealous, Georgina Barker,” Jon teased. He stepped forward a little closer, and although Sasah couldn’t see his face she had the feeling he was smiling. “It’s a bad look on you.”

“Idiot,” Georgie said fondly, “everything’s a good look on me.” She stretched up on her tip-toes to kiss him on the cheek. “Ditch him and come party with me, darling, I’ll show you a wonderful time. Maybe after all of this nonsense blows over.”

“Judging from what I can make out of Jonah’s monologuing, we ought to get our parties in while we still can,” Jon said glumly. He opened his briefcase, passing a manila folder to Georgie. “Give her these. She’ll be getting hungry. Tell her that the top one is from work, and the second is from me.” He hesitated for a second. “You really think she’ll forgive me?”

“If it’s not your fault, then why do you need to be forgiven?”

Jon was silent for a long minute. Finally, he said, “I’ll talk to you later, Georgie. Love you.”

“Love you too,” Georgie said easily, casually, as if she had said it a thousand times, a million times. “Take care of yourself.”

She stood in the foyer after he left, arms folded, one delicately manicured finger tapping against her arm. She eventually turned around, poking her head into the living room. 

“You can come out, darling, I don’t bite.”

Sasha guiltily stepped into the living room, crossing her arms defensively. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to eavesdrop.”

But Georgie just rolled her eyes. “Please. My best friends are Jonathan Sims and Jonah Magnus.” She looked thoughtful for a second. “Well. My oldest friends. Anyway, if you’re in the same house as one of those Beholding types you aren’t getting a private conversation. I’m super used to it.” She held out the manila folder, and Sasha cautiously stepped forward and took it from her. 

“Beholding types?” 

“Oh, you know, you and your lot,” Georgie said dismissively. “Can’t do anything about that annoying little megalomania the Eye gives you. Have fun with lunch, I have to freshen up. It takes ages to get the scent of Jon’s musty old books off me.”

But Sasha was already tuning her out, because in the manilla envelope there were two Statements. They thrummed under her fingers, charged with energy and power and fear, and Sasha could feel herself gripping them. The first one was a classic Magnus Institute Statement, just like she would have read at work, but the second was what looked like a photocopy of a piece of paper. Judging from the ornate script, it was old, and when Sasha’s eyes wandered to the date her eyes widened. July 21st, 1823. 

She looked up, already frantically searching for a tape recorder, and immediately saw one sitting on the coffee table. She didn’t think twice about it, already sitting on the plush white couch and setting the papers out. Which one first - oh man, they were both so exciting - her fingers drifted to the one Jon gave her, and she picked it up. That one, then. 

Sasha James pressed play on the tape deck, feeling a familiar thrill go through her at the gentle whirring. She cleared her throat. 

“Statement of Sasha James, Head Archivist of the Magnus Institute, regarding a letter sent by Barnabas Bennet to Jonah Magnus. Statement begins.”

And, as Sasha’s blood ran cold, she began to read. 

My dearest Jonah,

I hope you are well. It was an absolute pleasure to vacation at your estate this summer. I’ve never had such interesting conversations with a like-minded individual, and since returning to my own estate I have been sorely missing your company. You have introduced a great deal of brightness and acute interest to my life, and without you the luminescence of Heaven does not thrill me. How I wish you were around to thrill me again!

Do not concern yourself - I have maintained my studies. The library you loaned me is of great interest, and I have been spending many a quiet night bent over one of your occult tomes. I have never felt so enlightened. A world is opening up before us, Jonah, one of richness and wonder, and for the first time in many years I find myself excited to rise each morning. I thank our Heavenly Father each day that I was so fortunate as to cross your path. You must remind me to discuss with you the report by Smirke in detail - fascinating! Theoretical, of course, all theoretical - but the concept of classifying the devils that so bewitch man into fourteen unique taxonomies fascinates me. We must discuss it. 

Jonah, I trust that this letter reaches you in private, and that you shall not betray my confidence by discussing it with anyone. I have a private grievance I wish to address with you. It is regarding your boy, the one kept so close in your confidence and trust. 

I would never hasten to question any of your decisions, for I trust they are made with great deliberation and forethought. But I must question why you keep that boy so close to you. His air is strange and fey. While summering at your estate, I would frequently see him awake at late hours, pouring over some tome or report or another (I would swear that he reads better than I!). I know he’s somewhat of a project of yours, bringing him into Christianity and your charity, which will surely be rewarded etc etc, but I cannot shake my strange trepidation. 

If I were to be quite honest, my fear of him. 

He always asks questions. Disturbing and distressing questions. And when I deign to answer them, he acts as if he truly understands. Moreover, that he understands more than me - that he possesses some secret knowledge that only he has obtained. I catch him listening at doorways and around corners frequently, and no matter how many times I box him about the ears for it he will not cease. You encourage it, allowing this behavior. Even after I reported to you the pagan rituals which I am confident he is performing, you brush me off. You two are strangely close. I’m simply concerned for you, Jonah. Please heed my advice: that boy is trouble. I fear that he will bring you into trouble also. Do not allow this paganism to steer you away from the light of our heavenly Father. I understand that the occult is of great interest to all of us, discovering the secrets of the world and its many mysteries, but it is only an academic interest. I would never go so far as to partake of these devilish rituals myself, and you ought to dissuade yourself of such a notion also. Do not allow that John to lead you astray. 

I wish you most well. I am encountering some trouble of my own - debts and such - but do not concern yourself with them. The situation is well-handled. I hope to write to you again soon.

Yours, faithfully,

Barnabas

...supplemental.

Jon. Why did you show me this?

Is this your definition of vulnerability? Of honesty? What, are you trying to justify your decisions to me? I get it, it’s disgusting. These people were disgusting to you. I can’t know how you feel, but I think I - my parents -

What I mean is, I can’t understand. I can’t imagine how hard this must have been. I understand how Jonah was the only one to… ‘get’ you or whatever. How he was the only person to see how brilliant you are, how much you have to give. 

But, Jon - I don’t think Jonah thought any better of you than Barnabas did. He was just better at hiding it. I don’t know, I didn’t know him and I still don’t know him - but you get that the way he talked to you back then wasn’t right, right? You get that it was fucked up, right?

I don’t know. I don’t think you get that. I don’t think anybody does. Georgie’s too close to it, too used to you and Jonah’s ‘quirks’ or whatever. I...don’t know anything Martin thinks, but I feel as if you’d be pretty invested in keeping this from him. But I’m close enough to you to see it, and I’m far enough away from this that I understand. Something’s really fucked up about this situation. I’m worried I’m the only person who sees it. I hate being that person, the person who Sees it all, who knows it all, but is powerless to do anything about it. You understand, right? You understand how much this is hurting me?

I’m not sure you do. If you’re showing me this, trying to show me how hard you had it, how misunderstood you were, just so I forgive you...I don’t. And it’s manipulative, so cut it out. I’m not sure if you’re consciously doing that, I really don’t think you’re emotionally intelligent enough.

But you aren’t dumb, Jon. I know it’s a defence mechanism or whatever to pretend that you are, to act childish, but you aren’t. 

Ugh, listen to me. I sound like Martin. Disgusting. I don’t give a shit about this, I’m not your therapist. But you keep on making your problems my problems, and I’m not tolerating that. We’ll talk when I’m not fucking wanted for murder for something you were complicit in. 

Get your act together. I don’t forgive you. Statement fucking ends. 

As if Sasha’s life wasn’t hard enough, Georgie wanted to go dancing. 

“I am literally wanted by the police.”

“The nightclub’s so dark, nobody’ll even see your face,” Georgie promised. 

“Shouldn’t I be spending my time working on my conspiracy theory board?”

“Honey, no offence, that thing is so tacky.”

“I hate clubbing.”

“You’ll like the way I do it!”

“I really don’t want to -”

“Tough nuts.”

So, of course, that’s how Sasha ended up shoved into a tight dress, heels, and makeup, pushed into a taxi, and quickly deposited in front of a warehouse looking building. There was a long line out the door, of women with straightened hair dressed somehow identically, yet way worse, than Sasha, all looking very cold. Georgie looped her arm through Sasha’s, white teeth flashing as she grinned widely, and escorted them both straight through the doors and past security. 

She, it seemed, was a known quantity. Sasha, who had spent the last year working in a mill to feed evil psychic vampires and the ten years before that locked in academia, which was basically the same thing, was not a known quantity to any nightclub. She had not been clubbing since uni, which was approximately five lifetimes ago.

“I’m still not sure this is a good idea,” Sasha said into Georgie’s ear as they transitioned from the furiously cold February air into the swelteringly hot club. It was dim and smoky, the noise overwhelmingly grating at her ears. After so long in a quiet office, in a silent flat, she could barely handle it. 

Georgie said something to her. 

“What?” Sasha yelled. “Georgie, I don’t want to be here!”

Georgie frowned at her, and unlinked their arms so she could reach up on her tiptoes and clasp Sasha on the shoulders. “You have been accused of murder! You just split with your boyfriend because of clown trauma! You haven’t had fun in years! You deserve this, queen!”

You know...maybe she did. 

Georgie pressed a drink into her hands, mysteriously procured from somewhere, and without thinking too hard about it Sasha downed it in one gulp. Georgie whooped, clapping her on the back, and directed her towards the bar. She flashed her platinum credit card at the bartender, and suddenly Sasha was MVP of the night. 

You know, Sasha thought dizzily as she was given a toxic blue drink and pushed onto the dance floor, maybe she did deserve this. Didn’t she deserve to have fun? After the way things ended with Tim, couldn’t she just act like a normal girl and go clubbing with her friends to dance away the pain? She was almost forty, way too old for this, but maybe she could forget for a little bit. She had never had the opportunity as a teenager, not even as a young adult. Couldn’t she do this, before she died?

Maybe women closer to forty than thirty dealt with this with - with book clubs, with sisterhood, whatever. Maybe women closer to forty than thirty were married, had kids of their own. But Sasha was just Sasha, stuck in a literal dead-end job, going nowhere good, and this was all she would ever have. 

Maybe Georgie was right. Why not live, before she died? Everybody on earth died - everybody, that is, except for a small group of people who were willing to sell their soul for the privilege.  At least maybe this way she could have whatever joy she could fit into her life before all opportunity was lost, and she was lost. 

A man sidled up to her, asking for a dance, and she evaded him. But then there was another one, and another one, and Sasha found herself fleeing back to the bar and ordering another drink. Too soon. Way too soon. She found herself digging in her borrowed purse, searching for her phone, wanting to call Tim or talk to him or ask him if they really were broken up so she could have rebound sex with random dudes in bars, but the purse was empty of both a phone and a wallet. That’s right - she had destroyed it. Because the cops were after her. 

Next to her, out of the corner of her eye, a man sat down at a barstool. He said something to the bartender and leaned towards her, mouth spilling something obscured by the crush and heat and sound of the club. He seemed to be asking if he could buy her a drink. Sasha shook her head dizzily, confused and lost. Then he leaned in closer, and Sasha could smell the alcohol on his breath. 

“Are you sure? I’d like to dance with you!”

Sasha shook her head no again, frantically. 

“Aw, come on -”

Then, as if by magic, Georgie was at her elbow. Unintimidating, not more than one hundred and seventy centimeters, with teased hair and sharp black lipstick and eyeliner, she raised an eyebrow at the guy. But there must have been something in her eyes, or a lack of something, because the guy rapidly slipped off the barstool and melted into the crowd, leaving the drink the bartender slid onto the counter behind. 

As if she had planned it, Georgie easily stole the drink and knocked it back. She tugged Sasha down, yelling into her ear. “Come with me, darling, let’s check out where the real party is.”

Without taking no for an answer, Georgie grabbed Sasha’s hand and tugged her through the outskirts of the crowd, ducking and weaving between small clusters of people and women dancing the night away. Sasha’s vision swam, details and faces lost in the endless ripple of flashing lights and sound, until all she felt was Georgie’s cool hand in hers, and it wasn’t until they emerged from the choppy sea of people into a small hallway off the main room that she felt like she could breathe. Sasha’s head swam with movement and smoke, and she was barely cognizant that they were in a hallway for a bathroom or something. 

But Georgie walked confidently past the bathrooms, into what appeared to be a storage closet. She confidently opened it, halting at the door frame to glance backwards at Sasha. A smile quirked at her bow lips. 

“You coming?”

Sasha, slightly intoxicated though she was, couldn’t fight the skepticism. “This is where the real party is? A supply closet?”

“Oh, my dear Archivist,” Georgie said, smirking slightly. “The world is full of far more delights than you could understand. Follow me, and stay close.”

Then Georgie stepped forward, disappearing into the closet, and as little as Sasha wanted to step inside more dubiously supernatural hallways she wanted to be left alone in this club even less, and she ducked after Georgie into the unknown. 

The unknown, as it turned out, was another club. 

Or, more accurately, a pub. It was a nice pub too, all smoky yellow lights and burnished wood booths. The booths were upholstered in soft and cushy looking brown leather, and the sound where nowhere above a quiet murmur. It didn’t seem to be abandoned, the shadows at some booths deeper than others, but for the life of her Sasha couldn’t puzzle out the faces or figures of anybody at these shadowy corners. There was a single bartender, wiping a grimy glass over and over. He nodded at Georgie when he walked in, and Sasha was forced to wonder how many dubiously physical supernatural bars and hang-outs existed in random back rooms of mundane stores. Were these things just everywhere? Or were there only a few, and so long as you had the right key any door could be an entrance? It was just Sasha’s intuition, but she felt as if it was the latter. 

What would, could Georgie open up for her? What power, what majesty? What world of power and control could Jon give her, that Jon was trying to hard to give her that she kept refusing? Nobody was telling her the cost. Nobody was letting her make a decision. She was being swept up in the wake of giants, and Sasha was just trying to keep her head above water. 

Georgie was still walking confidently down the aisles, and Sasha stumbled trying to keep up. Finally, she came to a stop in a back corner, utterly secluded with a booth that stretched the entire corner, large enough for seven or more people. Georgie turned to Sasha, smiling broadly, and Sasha tried not to feel intimidated. 

“Honey, these are my friends. Girls, this is my new roommate, Sasha James!”

With a flourish, she made a little tah-dah motion, and the smoky yellow lamp above the table flickered on. 

The table was crowded with women, or women appearing people. Absolutely none of them were familiar. No - in the corner, there was one person who was familiar. Michael, blonde hair hurting her eyes in curly ringlets, hands in his coat pockets. He smiled crookedly at her, jarring her adrift. 

“Uh,” Sasha said, confused. Who were these people? “Hello?”

A short East Asian woman in a white tank top and black jeans scowled from where she was slouching in her seat. “One of those Beholding patsies? Please, Georgie, they’re so insufferable.”

“I like this one,” Georgie said cheerfully. She slid into an empty seat, and Sasha cautiously sat next to her. “Play nice, everyone.”

“You’re such a grouch, Jude,” a woman said, leaning forward and looking interestedly at Sasha. Her eyes were dark and big, her head cocked, giving her an almost insectoid air. “It’s a pleasure to meet you in person finally, Archivist. I’ve heard so much about you. You’re really making waves in our little community.”

“Patsy Archivist,” a tall and burly white woman with cascading brown hair said shortly, taking long gulps of a pint. “What’s impressive about that?”

“I’m impressed with anyone who puts up with Sims and Magnus long enough,” the insectish woman said. “No offence, Georgie.”

“Oh, they’re insufferable,” Georgie said cheerfully. “Have you heard how those two like to socialize? They go to galas. With those awful little Fairchilds and Lukases and whatever. It’s just tragic.”

“Word,” the insect woman said, raising her glass. The rim seemed to be coated in cobwebs, making Sasha feel vaguely ill. “Much rather have a pint at a nice little pub with friends. But we haven’t introduced ourselves, have we? My name’s Annabelle Cane. I’m sure you’ve heard of me in all those little stories you like.”

Anabelle Cane. Sasha swallowed. “Yeah, I’ve heard.”

“A proxy Archivist she may be,” Michael said serenely, “but perhaps our most successful yet. She’s already coming along so much further than Gertrude ever did.” He winked bizarrely at Sasha. “Michael, but you already know that. They and them, if you please.”

Oh. Sasha blinked at them. “Thanks for...saving my life back there. And Tim’s and Martin’s.”

“My pleasure,” Michael said affably. “You’re the most fun I’ve had in awhile. Always nice to have the Eye owe me a favor.”

“They’re just mad they didn’t get to kill Gertrude,” the brunette said evenly. “Julia Montauk. You should know me too, I think. Is it true you killed someone?”

“I definitely didn’t,” Sasha said heatedly. “It was a set-up.”

“Relax, we’re all killers here,” the woman in a tank top said. She scowled at Sasha. “Jude Perry. What the fuck do those old money ponces think they’re doing, installing another patsy Archivist this late in the game? I would have thought that they learned their lesson after that bitch Gertrude.”

“Archivists are quite slow learners,” a woman piped up. She sat in the corner, strangely oddly. Her skin was shiny and strange in the dim light, almost plasticish, and her dark eyes hadn’t moved from Sasha’s face since she walked in. “Nikola. A pleasure, Archivist.”

“Are you guys all…” Sasha trailed off uncomfortably. “You know?”

“Serial killers?” Julia Mauntauk asked flatly. 

“Inhuman monstrosities of plastic and flesh?” Nikola inquired. 

“Daughters of fear entities that control our every action?” Annabelle said. 

“Embodiments of unknown concepts made sentient, forced into a shape that cannot suit them, locked in flesh and fractal prisons, always screaming in endless turmoil, unable to understand the horrors of the concepts of ourselves, always searching for the sweet release of death that can never quite be obtained, because that which does not live can never die?” Michael said serenely. 

“Assholes?” Jude Perry said flatly. 

“The sexiest Avatars around?” Georgie asked. 

How did Sasha’s life devolve to this point. 

“...yeah,” Sasha said. “Hey, where can I get more drinks?”

Unsurprisingly enough, the drinks came very fast. Service was excellent when you hung out with eldritch women, Sasha supposed. 

The conversion flew thick and fast after that. In Sasha’s experience, joining a new group of established friends meant being ignored for favor of pre-existing dynamics. It was always uncomfortable, and no small part of why she just didn’t join new groups. Tim had never had that problem - he had a loud and persistent personality, the kind that made you pay attention to him. He dominated any room he entered, by force if necessary. It always seemed exhausting to Sasha, but Tim didn’t really seem to have anymore real friends than she did lately. His personality was like an ocean, overwhelming and everywhere, but when his mood turned sour it was just as intense. Gulfs of pleasure, intense pain - it seemed exhausting, to feel so deeply. God knows Sasha didn’t. 

But today, in this group, she seemed to be novel. Maybe new fear avatars were a rare enough thing, or at least ones with Georgie’s seal of approval. They aimed a barrage of questions at her, and Sasha did her best to keep up with each one.

How did Sasha know Georgie? Mostly through a mutual enemy. Oh, fuckin’ Sims, right - you guys friends? No, I hate him. You guys fucking? Ew. Right, right, Sims is a giant prude - actually I heard that he doesn’t really - no, Jon decided a while back he doesn’t do that, and we all respect his decision - ew, though, nobody wants to imagine that. So why are you two friends? We’re roommates, mostly, I’m kinda on the run from the cops. Who’d you kill? Nobody. Who’d that old fucker Bouchard kill? Jurgen Leitner, mostly. 

“Cheers to that!” Julia said abruptly, raising her glass. “Hate that fucker.”

“Good riddance to bad rubbish,” Annabelle said, downing her own drink and what seemed like an improbable quantity of spiders. She leaned over the table to where Sasha had hastily been stuffed in, beetle-black eyes gleaming. “But really. What are you doing here?”

“As I said,” Sasha said uncomfortably, “I got framed for murder -”

But Annabelle just waved her hand. “No, no, we know that. I’m asking what are you doing here? With people like us, in a place like us? You’re just a sexy librarian. Your highest goal in life was owning your own cottage house one day. How’d you get wrapped up in the tangled web of our world?”

Sasha’s mouth ran dry, her head spinning in a way that didn’t really seem to have anything to do with the alcohol. How had she ended up like this? Who was to blame?”

“Jonathan Sims,” Sasha said dizzily. “He -”

“Didn’t know you Beholding types were in the process of lying to yourselves,” Annabelle said, casually yet brutally. “No, really.”

Sasha opened her mouth, then closed it. Finally, she said, “I guess I just asked all the wrong questions.”

It was a pretty way of dressing up the real answer: that Sasha didn’t know. 

Maybe her thoughts were obvious, because Georgie cooed sympathetically and slung an arm around her shoulders. “Cheer up, honey, it’s not so bad. Not everything happens for a reason. Sometimes it’s just your own rotten luck.”

“Speak for yourself,” Jude called, lifting her glass. “I love my fucking life. It’s hookers, coke, and blow from here to Scotland. The life of a woman with power’s a thousand times better than the life of a woman without, James.”

“What is with you people and hedonism,” Sasha muttered. 

“Why not?” Nikola asked, tilting her head strangely. “Life’s so short when it’s this long. It’s just bread and circuses, Archivist. We all need...entertainment.”

“Humans are always trying to make sense of it all,” Michael said arily. They were digging their fingers into the table, scoring long grooves in it. “When you know there’s no meaning, no purpose, then everything else just...falls away.”

Sasha didn’t know if she believed that, but she bit her tongue. Instead, she said, “What about those Avatars like Magnus or Raynor? They seem really...driven.”

Georgie giggled, light and airy, and leaned in. “That’s because they don’t know.”

She shouldn’t even ask. She shouldn’t - “Know what?”

Georgie smiled, sharp and wicked. “That there’s no point.”

And that was all she would say on that for the night: conversation after that devolved into parties, restaurants, drugs, and conquests. Maybe the women were right, in their own clearly demented way: that without death there was no meaning, when when there was no meaning only pleasure held any significance. If there was no afterlife, no reward or punishment - which Sasha didn’t believe, but they seemed to - then there was no reason not to do what you wanted. To have fun. To take revenge. 

If all Georgie wanted was to have fun, and if all Jon wanted was revenge, then what did Jonah Magnus want? Sasha didn’t know. She had the feeling that if she didn’t figure it out, she wasn’t going to live much longer. 

Why had Jonah Magnus done this to her? What was the point of framing her for murder? She couldn’t do her job like this. What’s the point? 

Half-drunk, head spinning, she found herself vocalizing this. Somehow, Annabelle Cane had ended up sitting next to her, letting spiders run along her slightly too long and too jointed fingers. Annabelle Cane just smiled at her, jaw slightly slacking open to expose teeth. 

“Maybe it’s just to fuck with you,” Annabelle posited. “Why not? Do you think he has another reason?”

“I don’t know,” Sasha groaned. “I don’t know anything. Everything’s confusing and terrible. I could never understand those psychopaths.”

“You won’t make it very far in this line of work if you never ask why,” Annabelle scolded. She paused a second, spider running thoughtfully across her eyeball. “But too many questions damns you just as effectively, I suppose. Hm. Jonah’s quite good, isn’t he.”

“Why me,” Sasha groaned. “Everyone’s trying to keep shit from me, it fuckin’ - it fuckin’ sucks, man. It sucks. Nobody would tell me what’s going on, but I don’t think anybody knows what’s going on. Not even Jonah, or Jon, or - or anyone. Nobody but me.”

Annabelle blinked at her, somewhat curiously, before leaning in. Her perfume lingered in the air, a heavy rosy scent. “Do you know something that Jonah doesn’t?”

“Yeah,” Sasha slurred, world fading in and out. “Jonah doesn’t know that Jon -”

Then the world faded into black, and Sasha fell asleep. 

If she had felt too old for this at the nightclub, she definitely felt too old for this hangover. Sasha spent twenty minutes crouched over a toilet bowl, reluctantly shoved the Eggs Benedict in her mouth that Georgie insisted was a hangover cure, somehow, and refused the Bloody Mary that Georgie also insisted was a hangover cure that her Mum used to feed her. The thought of Georgie’s Mum filled Sasha with a deep fear, incapable of imagining somebody who was both likely born in the 1800s and who had raised a hellion like Georgie. 

When Sasha mumbled this to Georgie, she didn’t look offended. She just smiled, strangely fond. “Oh, none of this is my Mum’s fault. She was a darling, her and my Da. My childhood was positively idyllic. All things considered, you know.”

Yes, Sasha thought, struggling to imagine 1910s London in her mind, idyllic. She took another look at Georgie, squinting slightly as her head throbbed. She definitely seemed younger physically than Jon, but Jon had a particular way of carrying age about him that had nothing to do with his appearance. “When did you stop aging?”

“I forget, honestly,” Georgie said airly, sipping her own bloody mary. For some reason, Sasha didn’t believe her. “It always takes a while to notice, you know. I suppose, logically, it would be about when I died the first time.”

That, more than anything, alarmed Sasha. “I thought you couldn’t die.”

“Not permanently,” Georgie said, as if this was somehow obvious. “Eat your eggs, they’ll get cold.” Sasha frantically shoved eggs in her mouth, desperate for the story. But Georgie just sighed and propped her chin on her hand, eyes distant. “You know how it is. Small town girl, grew up in North Birmingham, Alabama - back when it was just a tiny little thing, you know. I wanted to be a star. I always did. Scared of dyin’ in the dirt. If I was gonna die young, I wanted to do it where everybody knew my name. So long as they remember you, it’s no kind of death at all, really.” She sighed, lost in memory. “I could sing so good...so I went to Harlem, ‘cause all my friends and I always had dreams of going to Harlem and making it big singing in the jazz clubs. They didn’t get so far, staying at home with their babies, but I did. Wasn’t really made for babies and such, I think.” Something strange emerged in her words, the last vestiges of a Southern accent. “I was pretty, and I could sing, and I took to the spotlight like a duck to water. It was tough, but man - if it ain’t tough, it ain’t worth it. I worked so hard. Like I was working myself to death, almost.”

She trailed off, birds softly trilling outside, and Sasha was silent. 

Quietly, Georgie began speaking again. “Got into some trouble. You know how it is. I spent dozens of years wondering if it was my fault, if there was something I coulda done differently, zig instead of zag...but now, I don’t think so. Just my own rotten luck, you know. Put my trust in the wrong people. Had the wrong sentence whispered into my ear.” She shrugged listlessly. “Couldn’t handle the truth. Just another girl who couldn’t handle the limelight, that was what they said. But I was set up to fail. All those jazz clubs were ganger run, you couldn’t avoid it. Every girl in that golden age fell prey to those men, same as I did. I just wanted to feel again. Tried everything once, just to feel something.” She sighed, taking another drink. “Got shot. Got back up. I remember it, clear as day. Must have been 1923. I scrubbed the blood out of my show dress and went back on stage that night, cuz you can’t get a rep as a flake. They said, that day...that day was my best performance.”

She trailed off, Sasha finally alert. She wanted more details, almost desperately, but she kept her mouth shut. She didn’t want to risk putting the whammy on her host, even if she wasn’t sure that she could. If Georgie was being purposefully vague...well, Sasha wasn’t entitled to her pain. 

Instead, she said, “I bet you were good.”

Georgie smiled at her wanly, eyes far away. “I was the best.”

They sat in silence for a little while, eating their food, Sasha’s head ringing and mind buzzing. What about this picture was she not understanding? What was so important that she was missing?

Finally, Sasha carefully floated, “I bet you must have met Jon soon after.”

Georgie looked up from her bloody mary, surprised. “Oh, yes. Just a few months after. He must have caught the word on the wind, you know, of that singing girl who got back up after getting shot in the lungs.” She sighed, propping her chin on her hand again. “Saw him in the front row of my club. He was so handsome, and so finely dressed. But there had been something strange in his eyes, you know? Like little marbles, reflecting the lamps. He caught up to me afterwards, and I figured he was just another fan to squeeze dry, but he told me in his funny little accent I’d never heard before that he could help me.” She swallowed, looking away. “That he could help me understand what was happening to me. Why I was having those strange dreams, seeing those strange tendrils. I guess he was right. After I met him, I understood it all. Things moved fast after that.” She smiled weakly at Sasha. “I suppose you know the rest.”

She really didn’t, but Sasha understood the dismissal for what it was. “Yeah. Thanks for telling me all of that.”

“It’s no secret,” Georgie said dismissively. She smiled cunningly. “A hundred years later almost exactly, and what I did to those gangsters was still my finest work. They say that if you pass by an old building on St. Nicholas Avenue, you can still hear the screams. Anyway, I have a meeting with my land development company in an hour, must run, ta!”

On that distressing note Georgie swanned out the door, and Sasha was left alone with nothing but a stack of conspiracy theories, an opulent flat, and bad memories. 

Time seemed to move quickly, yet sluggishly, after that. After another day of writing down literally every Statement she could remember off the top of her head and trying to fit them into the weird and seemingly kind of arbitrary categories that Leitner had given her, she had hit a roadblock. She couldn’t remember any more Statements, she didn’t have access to them, and the ones she did remember she either already sorted or couldn’t dredge up enough memory of them to sort them in a satisfactory way. Either that, or the Statement itself was just incomprehensible - Sasha still didn’t know what the fuck was going on with Tessa’s problem. She tended to have a better memory of the ones that seemingly mentioned the Avatars in the background, just because it had been so startling to actually meet them - and a few even mentioned Jon, usually in context of Salasea or any Eye Statement. 

When Georgie came home that night, they watched another movie and they both studiously avoided mentioning anything supernatural. Best not to take work home with you, even if Sasha had never quite been good at that. 

The next day Sasha did what she should have done in the first place, and hacked into the Magnus Institute server. 

It was seriously, comically easy. Sasha had installed a backdoor connection to the desktop of her work computer from her laptop ages ago, and all she had to do was borrow one of Georgie’s laptops and redownload the program. With an easy virtual desktop she was already in. It was somehow satisfying to see all of her work programs pop up on the borrowed laptop, and it was almost a relief to access the Archive drive that connected all of their computers. More importantly, where they all put their research follow-ups and the spreadsheet that documented the debunked, uncertain, and verified statements. It had gotten to the point where if the statement refused to record on the computer they automatically put it on verified, but what Sasha really wanted from that spreadsheet was the one sentence description they had all put for each Statement. 

From there, it was much easier. Sasha, sick of the disorganized conspiracy theorist aesthetic, made her own spreadsheet and began categorizing the verified Statements that way. Much more reliable than working from memory. 

If only she could actually access the Statements...Sasha’s life would be so much easier if everything could be digitized. The debunked ones were typed up, filed, and recorded, but the verified ones only existed on paper. Couldn’t be typed up, couldn’t be recorded. It was so stupid. 

Sasha checked the clock. Eleven am on a Wednesday. They were definitely all still working. Maybe…

It was an invasion of privacy. Did she actually care about that? No. Was she worried about apparently being locked into an employment contract with an...entity of some sort that preyed on invasions of privacy? No, although she felt like she should. Was she concerned that Jon and Jonah were trying to turn into her a conduit of this entity’s power into the world, probably gradually turning her, if not evil, at least into a giant dick? Somewhat. 

Words echoed through her mind, and Sasha’s fingers halted over the keyboard. Her powers manifesting differently than Jon’s...her unique skill with hacking…

Well, that was just kind of offensive. Sasha had worked hard for her skills. They weren’t given to her by Jon’s weird god. Also - seriously, a god? It was just a malevolent eldritch entity living in a separate dimension that encroached tendrils into Sasha’s life. There was nothing divine about it. That was just offensive. Sasha was a good feminist, transgender Catholic on the run from the law and didn’t worship false idols. 

It was only then that Sasha noticed a folder on the drive that she hadn’t created. It was labelled ‘For the Archivist’. Despite herself, she clicked on it. 

It held a few pdfs. Sasha clicked on one curiously, and saw that they were photocopies of statements. No - of Statements. She was already recognizing this one as one of those spider ones. She quickly printed them all out, conscientious of how easily supernatural files corrupted, and quickly exited the drive and the virtual desktop.

It wasn’t until Sasha was already in the kitchen and pulling down a bottle of Jack that she realized what she was doing. She sighed, replaced it, and fetched herself some sparkling water instead. She drank it slowly as she returned to her laptop and logged remotely into the police database, which she already had a backdoor into. 

It occurred to Sasha, perhaps belatedly, that if the police found her laptop and the incredible variety of highly illegal programs meant explicitly for accessing secure servers she was probably triple going to jail. This time, for something she had actually did. 

All of the hacking had never felt illegal. It had just felt...well, fun and necessary. It had never been about whether or not she should, it had been about if she could. 

Was that how it had started for Jon? Collecting household secrets because he had to, so secure the money and influence he desperately needed, because he could, because it was fun? 

Whatever. Sasha shook herself. She could have her moral crisis after she was no longer on the run from the cops for murder. This wasn’t the time to be squeamish about something that wasn’t hurting anybody. She knew, as Jon probably did, that just because something was illegal didn’t make it wrong. 

It was easy to log onto the police database and check out her own open case. She frequently checked out open homicide cases for fun, but it somehow hit a little different when it was her they were talking about. Incident, Senior Citizen, Offence: First Degree Murder, Location of Arrest: N/A, yeah, yeah, yeah…

One victim, a John Doe. Foul play was suspected...yes that’d be the gunshot wound. No witnesses. Reporting officer’s narrative...Elias Bouchard and Jonathan Sims the Fifth had walked into Head Archivist Sasha James’ office to discuss work with her when they found the body. Both were shocked and called the police...gun found at the scene had her fingerprints and the ballistics matched...suspect still at large. Friends and family had been contacted, everyone denied knowledge of where she was. Suspect had a noted history of mental illness...great…

The officers dispatched had been Alice Tonner and Basira Hussein. Sasha found that strange: Basira had history with one of the witnesses and the suspect, wouldn’t it be unprofessional to send her out? 

There couldn’t be that many sectioned officers, Sasha reasoned. Even if the incident hadn’t officially been sectioned, because the police report still existed, as a general rule if something happened at the Magnus Institute it was sectioned until proven otherwise. Even if the murder itself was seemingly mundane. 

Out of curiosity, she searched up Detective Tonner’s records. Been on the force for a long time, worked her way up the ranks. Very, very few cases and incident reports for a detective who had been on the force as long as she had. Sectioned, obviously, but even Basira had more official cases than she did. When Sasha clicked on the incident reports, they were extremely spotty and strange. Obvious details were omitted or censored. 

Something cold began to creep down Sasha’s spine. She found the arrest records of the latest four people with official records of Detective Tonner arresting them. 

Almost all of them had entered custody with bruises, cuts, and in one case a broken limb. They all had records down as ‘resisting arrest’. Sasha felt sick. 

There was one case that stopped strangely short. A clear perp, a rapist but one with little evidence, who Tonner had quickly caught. That was where the case ended: the report that Tonner had found his hiding spot, but no arrest, no trial, no prison sentence. When Sasha investigated the perp, she found that he had unceremoniously vanished shortly after Tonner had reported that she had found his hiding spot. A month later, a death certificate had been filed. 

Sasha stared at the death certificate, nauseated. This was who she was dealing with. A vigilante, some batshit pig who had obviously decided that the law was best taken into her own hands. Couldn’t have happened to a nicer guy, but...if anybody looked at Sasha’s case on paper, they’d say the same thing. 

And that was just the cases on record. It was the only obvious instance Sasha could see of Tonner having offed someone just because she felt like it, but cops were good at covering shit like that up. How many other arrest records had fallen in the cracks? How many other dead perps that nobody gave a shit about? How many sectioned cases? 

God, Sasha was fucked. 

She begged off hanging out with Georgie that night, instead staying in bed with the covers pulled tight over her head as if that could ever protect her. Why was Jonah doing this to her? What did he have to gain? If he wanted her to die a mysterious death in the bottom of a ditch, why wasn’t he man enough to do it himself?

Tonner was going to murder her, Sasha thought hysterically, and she was going to pat herself on the back for keeping another monster off the streets. 

And Jon knew. The fucking hypocrite. He wasn’t going to help her. Nobody was. But, god, she was so alone…

The next morning, as if she knew, Georgie slipped Sasha a burner phone over the breakfast table as they both robotically ate quiches. 

“It should be untraceable, but just know that anybody you call you’re putting at serious risk,” Georgie warned, before her expression softened. “This’ll all be over soon, honey. I promise.”

“Did Jonah tell you that?” Sasha asked bitterly. 

“Nah. I just know those two.” Georgie delicately ate a forkful of quiche. “They get bored of terrorizing humans pretty quickly. Now, Michael’s a different story. They’ll terrorize someone for decades. I’ve seen them do it!”

“Great,” Sasha said. 

It seemed to be at this point that Georgie realized she was actually making Sasha feel much worse, because a slightly panicked expression crossed her face and she quickly reached out to pat Sasha on the hand. “But I’m sure they won’t do that to you,” Georgie said quickly. “They love you! Jon especially. Jonah’s just on another of his little power trips right now, he’ll get over it. And Jon, like, feels really bad about this whole thing. He’s been super annoying about it, actually -”

“See,” Sasha said, standing up to clear away her dishes, “I would rather handle an enemy who obviously wants to kill me than a friend whose good side I always have to be careful to stay on, who I can’t afford to ever make mad. I guess that’s the only difference left between me and you people.”

She angrily put her dishes in the sink, where the housekeeper would do them, and stalked to what was rapidly becoming her room, slamming the door. 

Flopping down on the bed, she stared at the burner phone. Tim wouldn’t be at work yet. They could talk. They could - 

Do what? Get back together? Split up? Could he explain, beg for her forgiveness? Did she have to apologize too? Sasha didn’t understand. 

That was rare for her. She understood a lot of things, or at least she thought she did. Maybe she had been lying to herself, about everything: that her and Tim were a good idea, that Martin was sketchy,  that Jon was evil, that Jon was kind, that Georgie just wanted to help her, that there was nothing that Jonah Magnus would do to her, that she was safe and human and a good person. 

God, her capacity for self-delusion was ridiculous. But maybe people needed a little bit of self-delusion to survive. Nobody could live in complete honesty, in full sight of their flaws and shortcomings. You could burn away, living like that. 

No. No time or space for fear. Sasha wasn’t afraid of anything. If she kept telling herself that, maybe it would be true. She desperately punched in a number that she didn’t remember memorizing, holding the phone desperately to her ear, her one connection to humanity. 

It rung, and rung, and one, and Sasha’s heart thumped in her chest. 

Finally, the ringing stopped, and a slightly sleepy voice punctuated the dead air. “Hello?”

“Tim, it’s me,” Sasha burst out, everything she wanted to say to him rushing through her throat and choking her, and she burst into tears. 

Distantly, through the sound of her crying, she could hear Tim on the other side losing his shit, and eventually wrangling himself to calmness. 

It was almost funny, how they could work each other up like that. Eventually, by the time Sasha had managed to wrangle her own crying, Tim had calmed himself down enough that he was able to clumsily try to cheer her up. 

“We’re all fine. Everyone’s perfectly safe. Martin’s gotten, uh, even more annoying since you left, and we’ve technically hired Melanie, which is - not good but it’s funny? Are you still crying? Please don’t still be crying.”

“I’m fine,” Sasha hiccuped. She rubbed at her red eyes. God, she’d missed him. “Tim, what happened?”

The line was silent for a while. Finally, he said, “Is this line secure?”

“Uh - probably? I mean -” Sasha quickly checked herself. She didn’t want to mention Georgie. The less he knew the better. “ - it’s a burner, if that’s what you’re asking, and I’m not the one who bought it.”

“Where are you living?” Tim asked harshly. “Are you homeless? You have to come stay with me, I can -”

“You mean the first place Tonner will look?” Sasha shot back. “No. I’m safe, I’m dry, things are fine. That’s all you need to know.” She softened her voice. “I promise, if it was safe I’d tell you more. I want to see you again. Tim, I - I’m really sorry.”

Tim laughed hoarsely, without humor. “Shouldn’t it be me saying that? I’m the one who thought you were a monster.”

“...yeah, that one’s on you.” Sasha sighed miserably, lying down on her bed, wishing Tim was next to her. “I am, though. A monster, I mean. Tim, I - I’m definitely not entirely human anymore.”

“God, Sash, that’s the least of our problems right now,” Tim said, laughing slightly again. “Can you just tell me what happened? I know you didn’t fucking do it. That dick Bouchard keeps playing dumb and his shitlead lackey keeps on avoiding the Archives. I bet Sims killed that old man, right? He totally did. Martin keeps on saying that his precious Jon wouldn’t let you take the fall for something he did, but I’m not so sure.”

“I...it’s more complicated than that.”

Sasha explained in short order. For once, Tim was totally silent the entire time, letting Sasha dispassionately recite the entire sad story. She finished it at Michael helping her escape, not detailing where she had been dropped off. 

Finally, after a long silence, Tim said, “So this is my fault.”

“No, it’s not,” Sasha said harshly. “You were manipulated, same as I was.”

“I’m the idiot who -”

“Yes, you were being an idiot. You should have talked to me, talked to anyone. You should have done anything other than your homicidal partner in crime. You definitely shouldn’t have been buying a fucking black market gun when I know for a fact you have no idea how to shoot. But you tried playing hero and you played straight into Magnus’ hands. You fucked up. Okay? Now let’s try to do better.”

More silence, until Tim sighed. “Can’t believe the Douche’s Jonah Magnus. Explains why Sims is always playing lackey for him. Can’t wait to spill to Martin how his boyfriend framed his boss for murder.”

Sasha chewed her lip, uncertain. She hadn’t shared the details of Jonah and Jon’s conversation too closely - it had seemed private. “See, I’m not sure this is...entirely Jon’s fault.”

Tim groaned. “Not you too! Why is everyone but me and Melanie a fucking Sims apologist?”

“Jon and Jonah are...they’re weird, okay?” Sasha moved to chewing her hair, uncertain of how to describe it. If it should even be described. It seemed so private, so unsuitable to name...but maybe everybody thinking that was how these things stayed perpetuated for so long. “I think Jonah’s kind of, you know, abusive?”

The line went silent again. 

“Wow,” Tim said finally, “Martin’s going to be so disappointed his boyfriend’s taken.”

“They’re just friends! I think. I’m like, ninety percent sure. But you didn’t hear them, Tim. They’re really...it’s messed up. Trust me.”

“Jesus, Sash, why are you defending someone who fucked all of us over like this? Sims is a big boy, he’s responsible for his own shitty decisions and the shitty company he keeps.” Tim snorted. “I’ve heard them talk, anyway. If anything, Magnus is the one always giving into Sims and his little tantrums. Jesus, I just want to throttle the both of them.”

“Maybe you need to get over your anger issues and focus on actually solving the problem for once,” Sasha snapped. “Nobody has time for your revenge fantasy, Tim! We need to fix all of this.”

“Which one is it, Sash?” Tim asked coldly. “Was I manipulated, or was it my anger issues and hero complex? Are you going to decide if this is my fault or not?”

Sasha’s heart stuttered in her chest. She didn’t know how to explain to him what she knew - that it was everything, that it was all of the above, that he was manipulated through his anger issues and hero complex, that Tim had been pushed in a direction but he had taken the steps all by himself. But she couldn’t blame him entirely, because Sasha had been manipulated the same way, and so had Jon and Martin and Georgie, and if she started thinking like that then she would have to start hating the whole damn world. 

“Tim, are we going to stay together?” Sasha whispered, broken-hearted. “Can we even still be together? I love you. I want you here with me. But there’s so much ugliness that’s growing between us. I don’t know if this can be fixed.”

A long silence again. Sasha wanted to be there with him, to read his face, to see what he was thinking. She had always understood him so well, or at least she thought that he did. 

“I love you too,” Tim said finally. “I want to fix this too. I - I don’t know, Sasha. I love you. The thought of you alone, in danger, and not even knowing where you are, is fucking me up. It’s like Danny all over again, Sasha, I can’t handle this. Can we have this conversation again when I know you’re safe?”

“Okay,” Sasha said, and she knew that this was probably the best both of them could do right now. “Are we staying together?”

“...I don’t know.”

“...are we breaking up?”

“...still don’t know.”

“Okay,” Sasha repeated again, and sighed. “I won’t call you from this phone twice. I’m doing the best I can here. I’m safe, I think. Things will be okay, Tim.”

“Sash,” Tim said, “I don’t remember the last time things were okay.”

And neither did she, and they both knew it, and she hung up on him without saying anything further. She lay on the bed, listening faintly to the sound of the housekeeper vacuuming, staring up at the fan as it beat in a steady rhythm on the ceiling. 

Was Tim right? Was she reading too much into Jon and Jonah? It wasn’t her job to fix Jon, to puzzle out his weird psychology. Maybe he was just an asshole without a spine,and there wasn’t anything more to that.

No. Sasha didn’t believe that. This was a puzzle that she hadn’t solved yet, and she had the feeling that at the heart of this puzzle was the key to finally keeping herself and Tim safe. She couldn’t abide a mystery, couldn’t trick herself into thinking that the truth wasn’t important. The truth was all Sasha had. She couldn’t close her eyes to it, that awful and ugly reality. 

Tim...he had been such a bad idea. But he had always been her favorite one: the way he could always cheer her up, his bright and bold smile, his courage and heart and sensitivity and vulnerability. He had loved her, truly and wholly, for who she was. He knew the ugly corners of her and loved them as much as he loved her best attributes. 

Was that still true? Was Sasha turning into a person that Tim just couldn’t love? Was Tim turning into someone that Sasha couldn’t love? 

People changed. Sometimes they changed apart. And for some strange reason, Sasha just couldn’t bear the thought of that. 

Lying on the bed of a grim reaper, crying like a broken-hearted teenager, Sasha didn’t notice that the housekeeper’s vacuum had stopped running. She didn’t notice the knock on the door, or the creak of the door opening, or the gentle rise and fall of voices. She only heard it when there was a soft knock at her own door, and she was forced to roll off the bed to open her bedroom door. 

Standing in front of her, looking nervous, was the housekeeper. Standing behind her was Jonathan Sims. 

He looked pretty bad, Sasha noted clinically. Eye bags, even more pronounced than usual, stood starkly under his eyes, and his hair wasn’t as cropped short and styled as it usually was. It had grown out a little, making Jon look more like a tired modern guy walking the streets of London than a centuries old immortal psychic vampire. He was still dressed in a suit, as he always was, but the suit jacket was off and his dress shirt was rolled up to the elbow.

He stared at Sasha, probably registering every minute change in her appearance as she did his, before glancing down at the housekeeper. “You’re excused for the day. Thank you for your time.”

He passed her something - probably neatly folded bills - and nodded at her as she shakily nodded back and escaped the flat as quickly as possible. Jon stepped backwards in the hallway, gesturing for her to come out, and walked back into the living room. Because Sasha was just slightly too prideful to barricade herself in the bedroom, and partly because she wasn’t sure that Jon wouldn’t break into a woman’s bedroom, she stepped out into the grandiose yet cluttered living room with him. He stood in the center, hands in his pockets, looking over the flat with a clinical eye. 

“Georgie’s sense of interior decoration is as immaculate as ever,” Jon noted clinically. “She used to spend months getting every house we ever lived in just right. Said it was her job as lady of the household. She had never been a lady of any household, of course, not in the way that Jonah and I had once known - but her fun’s important to her, and it doesn’t hurt anybody important.” He sniffed slightly. “You coming to stay here was for the best after all. She’s been lonely, I think.” 

“I’m staying here because I���m homeless,” Sasha said flatly. For the first time, she noticed a small manila envelope under his arm, tucked slightly into his back pocket. “Because of you.”

“I’ve kept your flat for you,” Jon said eagerly, stepping forward, and letting his cold mask fall. In him now was something eager, something almost pleading. Sasha forced herself not to step away. “All of your possessions are intact, and I can get your bank accounts unfrozen easily enough. Once all of this blows over, your life can be right back to normal.”

“Wow,” Sasha drawled, crossing her arms, “how kind. Were you so busy being this nice to me that you forgot that Georgie barred you from this flat because I don’t want to fucking look at you?”

“She’ll get over it,” Jon said dismissively. “She’s been wanting us to make up, anyhow.” He stepped closer again, fluorescent green eyes fixed on her large and warm brown ones, and Sasha fought the tingle crawling up her spine. “Sasha, I really am sorry. Jonah was out of line in what he did. But - but you know, he really does know best. Even if it doesn’t seem so. What we’re doing now, it’s for the best for your development. I promise this will all blow over soon, and things will be better. For all of us.”

“For a subject of a truth god,” Sasha said, voice dripping sarcasm, “you have a unique ability to lie to yourself.”

Jon puffed up, scowling down at her. “That’s ridiculous. I -”

“Does Jonah Magnus respect you?” Sasha pressed. 

Jon...hesitated, and they both saw it. Jon frantically tried to cover, quickly saying, “Of course he does. I’m his partner, and we’ve been partners for two hundred years. There’s nobody on earth he respects more than me. There’s nobody he respects but me.”

“Then why does he talk to you like you’re an idiot?”

“He talks to everyone like that.”

“Because he doesn’t respect anyone but you. You just said that. But if he respects you, then wouldn’t he talk to you differently?”

There it is - Jon’s shoulders hunched slightly, unconsciously on the defensive. “Does he give you equal input on decisions?”

“I always give my -”

“Does he listen to them?”

Jon was silent. Finally, slowly, he said, “Jonah was right. He said you’d get like this.”

Fuck. Sasha’s heart sank, even as her jaw dropped in incredulity. She had lost him. “You must be kidding.”

“He said you’d get jealous.” Jon crossed his arms, turning slightly away from her, but what he clearly meant to be a closed-off stance just seemed defensive. “He said that you’d get upset that I’m more loyal to him than to you. What we’re doing now is for your own good, Miss James. You’ll see one day that this - this unpleasantness is helping you grow.”

Unpleasantness? Unpleasantness?! Putting her life at risk was an inconvenience? “I’ll see, huh?” Sasha said bitterly. “Just like you saw? Just like how you changed your mind from this being cruel and traumatic to it being a momentary unpleasantness?” She barked a short laugh, not very humorous at all. “I was there. He called you stupid, he said that you couldn’t trust anybody but him, and he called you an idiot. Are those the words of someone who respects you? Of someone who even likes you?”

Jon stiffened, mouth tightening, and he broke eye contact and looked away. “Don’t concern yourself with the private business between Jonah and I.”

“When you’re having the conversation over a cooling corpse that you framed me for then you’re making it my business, you absolute shitheel!” Sasha yelled, finally losing her temper. “Your bullshit is ruining my life! Your complete inability to stand up to that sack of shit is ruining my life!”

“Shut up!” Jon yelled, seemingly having taken her losing her temper as permission to lose his. Distantly, Sasha was aware of his stupid this must have looked: two fully grown adults, yelling in a living room like children. “You’re a spoiled child who doesn’t know anything! All I’ve ever done is try to help you, and you spit in my face! You’re no better than Martin!”

Abruptly, strangely, Jon stopped short. He seemed almost embarrassed, almost in pain. 

And just like that, Sasha knew. “He’s not letting you see Martin, is he.”

For just a split second, Jon’s expression crumpled, but he forced it back into his haughty mask. “I decided that it was best I didn’t waste my time with manipulative traitors.”

“Was that your idea?” Sasha asked flatly, abruptly extremely tired. “Or was it Jonah’s?”

Jon was silent. They both knew the answer. 

“If you walked up to Jonah now and told him that you wanted to start dating Martin, do you think that you’d leave that conversation still wanting to do it? Or would you somehow decide, all by yourself, that you’ll end up doing what Jonah wants anyway?”

Jon didn’t say anything.

A strange mix of emotions swirled in Sasha’s stomach. Anger and disgust mixed with pity and sadness. What had Jon been like, before he met Jonah Magnus? Had he been a good person?

But maybe that wasn’t so important. Maybe the question that had to be asked was - what kind of person would Jonathan Sims be without Jonah Magnus in his life?

All at once, the fight seemed to go out of Jon. His shoulders sagged, and he abruptly deflated. He looked down at the ground, ashamed and aware of it. He had always been aware of it. He had just been lying to himself. Maybe it was impossible to live without it. 

“I don’t know what to do without him,” Jon said quietly. “I’ve never - I need him.”

“You don’t,” Sasha said, abruptly exhausted. “You want to help me, Jon? You want to protect me and Martin? You can’t do that while staying friends with Jonah Magnus. You have to choose. So long as you stay close to him, you are going to stay within his complete control. That’s what he does. He controls everybody and everything. And you’re letting him. You’re justifying it. You’re doing his work for him. Everybody around him is - even Georgie. There are two people in your life who are trying to get you away from him, and he’s trying to convince you to cut them out of your life. You think that’s a coincidence?”

Jon opened his mouth, then closed it. Weakly, he said, “You’re wrong.”

“I need your help, Jon,” Sasha whispered, and to her shame found her voice cracking. “I need someone on my side. I can do it alone, but - but I’m scared. And I don’t want to. I need help. I’m scared.”

But she knew, even as she said it, that Jon was scared too. He couldn’t reach out a hand to her - not now, not here. Jon had carried around his fear for hundreds of years, pushing it down and pretending it wasn’t there, and it informed everything he’d ever done. Scrambling for power, exerting that power, desperately dominating even as he was dominated - it stemmed from that fear, all of it. And Jonah Magnus kept those flames fanned, because a Jon who was afraid was a Jon who could be controlled. 

A Sasha who was afraid, who was isolated, who was trapped, was one who could be controlled. 

The realization was dizzying. Somehow, the thought that kept running through her mind was - who’d do that? Who was such a terrible person that they’d go through all that trouble, all of that plotting, just to make someone suffer? Not because they disliked them, not in revenge, not because of any human emotion - but just because it was convenient? Useful?

Because you could?

So this was what power did to a person, Sasha realized. So this was what power and immortality and money and supernatural gifts did to you. It made you someone who Sasha could never hope to understand, whose depths of depravity she could never truly rationalize. To Sasha, who prided herself on knowing people and being able to understand them and their motives - it was almost a relief, almost a blessing, that she couldn’t possibly understand the motives of Jonah Magnus at all. 

Jon stared at her, fluorescent green eyes wide, and for just a minute she could see the fear that she knew was there written all over his face. For just a minute, Sasha and Jon were scared together, both trapped in tumultuous waters that they couldn’t control. For the first time Sasha empathized with Jon. 

Jonah Magnus was somebody that Sasha could never understand. But Jon was, and for the first time Sasha knew what Martin meant when he said that he felt as if Jon had been a good person, a long time ago. 

You can’t understand someone and hate them. Not really. You could be angry, upset, betrayed...but if you really understood someone, backwards and forwards, true hate was difficult to find. 

“I have to go,” Jon said, almost dizzily. He shoved the manila folder at her, both of them having forgotten that it was even there in the first place. He glanced at it, frightened and guilty. “Be - be careful when meeting Jude Perry. Don’t take her at her word. I have to go.”

He fled, as if the hounds of hell themselves were snapping at his heels, and Sasha was left standing in an opulent hallway, clutching a manila folder as if it was a time bomb, completely certain that it was meant to hurt her and cause her pain and damage her, completely certain that she was going to read it anyway. 

Like Jon - what choice did she have? 

But as she stumbled back to her room, as she sat down on the comfortable chair and thumbed on the tape recorder that sat at the desk, the words of Jonathan Sims ran through her mind. His warning. A clumsy attempt at protection. At the very least, a signifier of desire. 

Sasha knew, as she sometimes knew things, that Jon had started out somebody who deeply desired to protect others like him. To take revenge, to grab power, yes, but also to spread that precious knowledge and resources around. He had never stopped thinking of himself as one of those vulnerable people, people who society had stepped on and ground into the dirt. Deep down he had just wanted things to be fair, wanted some justice in the world. Jon, at one point, had only wanted to help. 

Maybe she wasn’t so alone after all. 

“Statement of Sasha James, Head Archivist…”

#my writing #YES I KNOW THIS IS TOO LONG FOR A TUMBLR POST BUT CONSIDER: ITS NOT GOOD ENOUGH FOR AO3 AND MY STANDARDS ARE INSANE #jonathan sims #georgie barker #sasha james #archivist!sasha #human relations #tma #the magnus archives #tma fanfic #jonmartin #jason's tims age

[ellewritesathing]

Ten Things    VIII

Summary: If there’s one thing you have to know about Harvey Kinkle, it’s that he rarely thinks things through. So when he meets (and falls for) Sabrina Spellman on his first day of Baxter High and finds out that she can’t date anyone until her tempestuous sister does, it seems like the obvious solution is to get someone to date her so he can go out with Sabrina. A not so obvious choice for the challenge is Caliban, but, hey, it’s not like Harvey thought that far.

Masterlist Prev. | Part 8

Word-count: 3.8k+

A/N: ahh i can’t believe this series is completed!! it’s been super fun to write these characters and their relationships and i hope you guys like how i’ve done this (endings are not my strong suit lmao) 💕 thank you for reading!!

A few months ago, your and Sabrina’s relationship had been strained at best. She had been so young and all she wanted to do was experience everything, and you were older and a bit more jaded because you’d already experienced it all. And thanks to your wild days of experiences, Hilda and Zelda set a rule in place when you cooled down: Sabrina could only do something if you did too. 

A part of Sabrina had always resented you for it, even though the rule wasn’t your fault. It was just incredibly frustrating to always be asking you for favors and you consistently refusing because you were done ‘pretending to be someone you weren’t.’ She hadn't understood what that meant back then. 

And Sabrina had to admit, even though Hilda and Zelda would crucify for her saying it, that your relationship got better after Caliban and Harvey came into your lives. Those two idiots had a way of making Sabrina more forgiving and you less hard-headed and, slowly, your relationship improved. 

But then prom happened and everything exploded. 

No matter how many times you promised that you were fine, Sabrina couldn’t shake the memory of picking up from the mines with Caliban’s car smashed in and abandoned in the background. Nor could she forget how she cradled you in the backseat while you sobbed and asked her why he didn’t like you.

So, when you rejected Sabrina’s thirtieth offer to join her and Harvey for some retail therapy (or vandalism - Harvey could wait in the car), Sabrina did what any good sister would: She canceled her plans with Harvey and hunted down Caliban. 

She thought finding Caliban would be the tricky part, but talking to him turned out to be the hard part. The second Sabrina saw him at Dr. Cerberus’ looking for a book, her entire speech that she’d been preparing since breaking Nick’s nose just disappeared into thin air. It wasn’t fair that he was perfectly okay while you cried into a pint of ice cream, but she couldn't find the words to yell that at him. 

Despite being at a loss for words, Sabrina stormed over and tapped Caliban on the shoulder. “What do you think you’re doing?” 

“Looking for a copy of Pride and Prejudice.” Caliban straightened up and bumped Sabrina’s arm lightly to get to the bookshelf. “Do you mind?” 

“Do I mind?” Sabrina repeated, crossing her arms and stepping closer to him. Even though he was easily a foot taller than her, she was determined not to be intimidated. “Yes, I mind. I mind that you’re here book shopping while my sister's turned into Boo Radley!” 

“Oh, spare me the dramatics, Blondie,” Caliban said with a roll of his eyes. He turned his attention back to the bookshelf. “Firstly, you were just as involved in all this as I was. More so, actually - it was your gentle manipulation that pulled Harvey into all your bullshit. And secondly, your sister is far too strong to get her heart broken. By me or anybody else.”

Sabrina faltered. She had been working very hard to block her part of this whole mess out of her head. “Are you gonna tell her?” she asked, in a very careful voice. 

Caliban knelt to get a better view of the shelf. He was in the totally wrong section if he was looking for Pride and Prejudice, but Sabrina didn’t want to point him in the right direction just yet. “Now, why would I do that?” he asked, tilting his head up at her. “So that she can hate us both?” 

Tapping her fingers on her arm, Sabrina was forced to admit that Caliban was being a frustratingly good guy about this all. “Well…” Sabrina tried to figure out something to be mad at him for. “What’s your plan?” 

“My plan?” Caliban didn’t take his eyes off the copies of The Great Gatsby and Catcher In Rye in front of him. 

“Your plan to fix this,” Sabrina said. She put her hand on his head and turned it to in the direction of the British Lit two shelves down. “You’ve got a plan, right?”

Caliban was quiet. He stood up and looked down at her, seemingly figuring out how much Harvey would mind if he pushed Sabrina over. “No,” he said eventually, trying very hard to keep his voice level. “I don’t have a plan.” 

He turned to go to the British Lit and Sabrina grabbed his arm to force him to turn around. “How can you not have a plan?” she asked. 

“Because-” Caliban shook off her arm and kept walking “-nothing I say will fix this. Your sister hates me.” 

“My sister hates everyone!” Sabrina stormed after him, practically knocking him over when she closed the distance. Awkwardly, she added, “But she hates you a little less than everyone else.”

Over the dusty copy of Lord of the Flies, Caliban looked at Sabrina with an almost unreadable expression. Unnerving, yes, but surprisingly unguarded. Sabrina was sure he could set someone on fire with that look alone. 

Caliban dropped his gaze and pulled out the last Pride and Prejudice on the shelf. “Well, thanks, Blondie, but I think she hates me most of all right now.” 

“That’s just because she doesn’t know!” Sabrina grabbed Caliban’s arm before he could leave. Giving him her best set-you-on-fire look, she said, “If you just talk to her - explain what happened - then I’m sure she’ll forgive you.” 

“Because ‘forgiving’ is the first word that comes to mind when one thinks of your sister,” Caliban said quietly, staring at Sabrina’s hand on his arm. He looked back at her with a hard expression. “Whatever happens between me and your sister, I want you to know one thing.” 

“Anything,” Sabrina said, caught off-guard by his intensity. 

“If you ever hurt Harvey, I’ll break into your house and shave your cat,” Caliban said. 

Before Sabrina had the chance to even begin formulating a response to that, Caliban gave her a tight smile and walked away.

Sabrina could see now, after one very frustrating interaction with him, why you liked Caliban so much. He was impulsive, vaguely threatening, and very clearly in love with you. 

---

“Okay, let’s open up our books to page 73, Sonnet 141. And listen closely,” Wardwell said. She ushered in a scrawny freshman who rapped the first four lines of the sonnet and then excused him with three quick taps to his shoulder. “As Toby has just shown us, there are multiple ways of engaging with Shakespeare. It wasn’t always bad actors in stuffy period clothes, you know.” 

She said it knowingly, as if every dumbass teenager in the class had seen a Shakespeare play and thought wow, this stuff would be great if it weren’t for the poorly done accents and garish clothing. 

When no one responded to Wardwell’s attempt at humor, she took a breath and walked in a little circle around her desk to reboot. “I’d like for all to write your own versions of this sonnet,” she said. “A poem riddled with contradictions and the struggle between the physical desire and mental …” she paused when you put your hand up. You knew you should have known to wait until she finished her sentence, lest she forget her original point. “Um, yes, Ms. Spellman? Do you have a problem with the assignment?” 

“No problem. Do you want this in iambic pentameter?” you asked, pen ready to write down whatever convoluted answer Wardwell gave you. 

Wardwell narrowed her eyes and walked around to the front of her desk again to get a better look at you. “To be clear, you don’t have any problems whatsoever with the assignment?”

“Whatsoever,” you echoed. Your voice had a slight edge to it thanks to your thinning patience. You tapped your pen on your notebook.

“Are you sure?” Wardwell crossed her arms over her chest. 

You sighed and put down your pen. With your best attempt at one of Sabrina’s polite smiles, you said, “I’m sure that it’s a great assignment, Mrs. Wardwell. Now, iambic pentameter: yes or no?”

“You know, I’m not sure I like this new attitude of yours,” Wardwell said, pushing herself off her desk and turning to look for a notepad. She scribbled something on it as she walked to your desk. “Take this and go see the nurse. I think you may have a fever.” 

“A fever? Wardwell, what the hell is this?” you asked. 

“A note. To see the nurse.” Wardwell tore the note off her notepad and handed it to you before gesturing toward the door. “Go.”

“But I-” 

“Now, Ms. Spellman.”

You let out a listless breath and slammed your notebook shut. Shoving all your things into your bag and ignoring Nick’s snickering, you grabbed the note from Wardwell and stormed out of the class. 

When you turned to flip Nick off while Wardwell had her back to the class, you saw Caliban reaching over his desk to flick Nick’s neck and whisper something in his ear that made him a few shades paler. It filled your heart with a funny feeling and you adjusted your bag and fled before you had a chance to start crying in the middle of your English class. 

Once you were in the safety of the hallway, you had no idea which way to turn. The nurse’s office wasn’t an option because Pollit was deeply against any student seeing her unless they were bleeding and you didn’t feel like getting detention for supposedly faking an illness. It was too bright outside to throw rocks at the soccer team. You found yourself heading for the library before you even realized that you’d decided not to ditch. 

The smell of coffee and freshly microwaved lunches mingled with old books and teenage angst when you stepped through the threshold. It was surprisingly busy for the sixth period, but luckily your spot in the back corner by the window was open. Slipping on your headphones, you drowned out all the others and started working on your stupid sonnet. 

If the writer’s block wasn’t annoying enough, someone slid into the seat across from you and jostled the table in the process. Lifting your gaze from your newly marred page, you were intent on giving the offender the harshest glare in your arsenal until you saw it was Harvey. 

He was nervous, spouting some apology that you couldn’t hear over your music, and wearing a football helmet. You took your headphones off to hear some of the ten billion words he was saying.

“Why are you wearing a football helmet?” you asked, setting your headphones aside and doing your best not to glare at him. 

“Oh, uh-” Harvey tapped the helmet like he’d forgotten he was wearing it. “I wanted to talk but I thought you’d still be pretty pissed at me.” 

You tilted your head to the side. “And you thought a helmet would protect you?” 

“I mean, I feel a little dumb about it now but yeah,” Harvey said with a shrug. 

You laughed at him and leaned over to take the helmet off his head. He looked ready to run for the exit, but he held still as you took the helmet in your hands. Collapsing back into your seat, you sighed and looked at the red Greendale High football helmet. “I’m not angry with you,” you said. “I tried but it’s like being mad at a puppy.” 

Harvey shifted uncomfortably and frowned. “I don’t know if that’s a compliment but thank you.”

“No problem, Harvey.” You sighed and set the helmet on the table. Both of you stared at the helmet for an awkwardly long period of time. “What did you want to talk about?” 

Either his seat was very uncomfortable or you still managed to unnerve him because Harvey kept shifting in his seat and starting sentences but never quite finishing them. Eventually, he sighed and said, “It’s not Caliban’s fault. It’s mine.” 

“No, you only think it’s yours because you’re sixteen and more easily manipulated than most,” you said. 

“Yeah, I know all that but-” Harvey shifted and tapped your notebook as he tried to figure out how to word what he was about to say. “I liked Sabrina, right? But everyone told me that she couldn’t date unless you did. So, I started talking to Caliban because he seemed like your type-” 

“Caliban is my type?” 

“Yeah, exactly,” Harvey said, completely missing your offense at his assumption of your type. Sure, he’d been right but still. “Anyway, so, like I said it, was my idea. He had feelings for you already and then Nick offered him money and … I don’t know. I told him to go for it anyway.”

You picked at the rings of your notebook in silence, mulling over Harvey’s words and trying not to punch him. 

“He was going to tell you but I said it would just hurt you,” Harvey continued. He took a deep breath. “So, if you’re going to be mad at anyone, then be mad at me.” 

You hoped you’d see something outside that told you what to do, but everything outside stared at you ambivalently. Letting go of your notebook, you turned back to Harvey and shrugged. 

“He lied to me, Harvey. I get that you were selfish and messed up, but Caliban lied,” you said. “That’s worse than what you did because it feels like I can’t trust anything he says.” 

Harvey looked like you’d just told him Santa Claus wasn’t real. Gut-punched and disappointed. In a slightly smaller and more strained voice, he said, “But it’s not his fault.”

You reached out and touched Harvey’s hand on the table. “I know you’re just trying to help your friend but it’s not that simple,” you said. “Do you understand?”

“No,” Harvey said lamely. He sank back in his chair and sighed. “But I’ll stop bugging you about it.”

“Thank you.” You squeezed his hand before letting go entirely. You pulled your notebook out from under Harvey’s helmet. “Are you gonna keep staring at me like that or do you have work to do?” 

“Oh, I’m supposed to be in chemistry right now,” Harvey said. 

Again, a bit of your bad mood dissipated and you laughed. “You should probably go to chemistry.”

“Yeah, probably,” Harvey said. He looked at the door and looked back at you. “But, uh, is it cool if I sit here for a while?” 

You wanted to say no and to tell him that he was still an idiot for his part in this whole mess, but he was looking at you with those dumb lost puppy eyes. “Okay,” you said. “But don’t distract me or I’ll kick you under the table.” 

Harvey laughed and settled into his seat. “Got it. Next time I’ll bring shin-guards.” 

---

All things considered, Caliban had been handling your blind hatred quite well. Though, technically, your hatred wasn’t blind anymore because you knew the truth about him. Your hatred was all-seeing, all-encompassing, and everlasting. Caliban expected no less, considering the remnants of his smashed-up car found on the edge of the mines, but it still felt like he was falling apart every time he saw you. 

Before, your almost exactly replicated schedules had been a convenient way to spy on you until Caliban finally worked up the courage to ask you out. Then, it had been the ideal opportunity to pass notes and make fun of Billy. Now, it was the perfect torture session where the two of you pretended not to notice one another.

It had gone on for almost a week before Caliban couldn’t stand it any longer. He had a plan, a very shaky plan, and Ambrose’s assurance that he could treat any of Caliban’s bones that you broke. 

Caliban had waited the whole day and all he had to do was get through English, and then he could talk to you. Regardless of whether or not you broke his nose, phase two of the plan would commence with red carnations and one of those cheesy acoustic songs you liked.

“Okay, children,” Wardwell said in her disturbingly chipper voice. Her heels clacked against the floor as she scurried to the front of the class. “You’ve had plenty of time to work on your poems and I’m very excited to hear your takes on this classic sonnet.” 

She was met by the silence of two dozen over-tired teens. Awkwardly, Wardwell fiddled with her hands and started walking around again. She paused at the window for a second and turned back to the class with wide eyes. 

“Any brave souls willing to read theirs aloud?” Wardwell asked it like it was a dangerous question, like she was asking them if they wanted to rob a bank later. 

Again, she was met with uncomfortable silence. Then your hand shot up and the air felt slightly more electric. 

“Oh, Ms. Spellman … um, would anyone else like to give it a try?” Wardwell asked, looking out at the crowd with hungry eyes. “No? Well, alright then. Come on up, Ms. Spellman.” 

Wardwell waved you over and placed you next to her desk in the front. She gave your shoulders an uncomfortable-looking squeeze and hurried back to her spot near the window. When she stood like that, she looked like a spindly bird watching over her chicks. Or maybe over her prey; it was hard to tell. 

Once you were standing in front of the blackboard the way Wardwell liked, you took a deep breath and looked down at your notebook. “Here goes nothing,” you mumbled. Glancing over at the Caliban, his heart stopped as you dropped your gaze and started reading in a tight voice. “I hate the way you talk to me, and the way you cut your hair. I hate the way you drive my car. I hate it when you stare.”

At the mention of his staring, Caliban’s heart stuttered annoyingly. He was staring at you now, along with the rest of the class, but this was different. He’d told you once that he stared because it gave him a chance to figure out what to say, but this time he was staring so that he’d never forget this moment.

“I hate your big dumb combat boots, and the way you read my mind … I hate you so much that it makes me sick-” You let out a short laugh and looked out at the window as you shook your head. “It even makes me rhyme.”

The whole class laughed and you took another breath to prepare for the next stanza. There was no laughter in your voice when you spoke again. “I hate the way you're always right. I hate it when you lie.” Your voice cracked and you looked up at the ceiling. “I hate it when you make me laugh.” A stray tear ran down your face and you wiped it away roughly. “Even worse when you make me cry.” 

Caliban leaned forward in his chair. Whatever you said next, he didn’t want to miss a word. 

“I hate the way you're not around, and the fact that you didn't call,” you said, voice trembling between the tears that Caliban knew were eating you up inside. As if this moment couldn't twist him up any more, you looked up from your notebook and made eye contact with Caliban for your final lines. “But mostly I hate the way I don't hate you. Not even close … not even a little bit … not even at all.” 

With a breath, you shut your notebook and started walking out of the classroom. In a show of remarkable self-control, you didn’t slap Nick on your way out as he asked what on earth that poem could possibly be about. 

Wardwell called after you, teetering on her heels as she scurried after you, but she stopped when she was almost run over by Caliban bolting out of his seat. She held onto him until he promised that he would make sure you were okay. 

Thanks to the Wardwell delay, you were long gone by the time Caliban made it to the hallway, but he had a pretty good idea of where you’d gone. He raced out of the school and tracked down your car. 

You were glaring at your car when Caliban found you, or more specifically glaring at the dozens of red carnations in your backseat. Reluctantly, you picked up the apology note on your windshield. 

Technically, it was more of an excerpt than a note. Caliban had ripped out one of the last pages of the Pride and Prejudice he bought the other day, the page where Darcy proposes to Elizabeth (which was your favorite because ‘he promised to leave her the fuck alone if she didn’t feel the same’), circled your quote, and scrawled out an apology.

Caliban didn’t even know you’d seen him standing there until you balled up the note and threw at him. “You know you can’t just keep buying me red carnations every time you mess up, right?” you asked. 

Seeing as amusement outweighed the annoyance in your voice, Caliban walked closer to you. “Yeah, but that’s why they have roses…” Closer- “tulips…” Caliban stopped in front of you and let out a shaky breath. “Hell, if I get that desperate, I'll even buy you some peonies.” 

You bit the inside of your lip and cast a look at your car. You shrugged. “How do you plan to afford all that, huh? Going to keep dating girls so the cash keeps coming?” 

It was a cheap shot but one that Caliban deserved. He dropped his gaze. “No, I, uh, messed up the last time. See, this girl was … something else. And I fell for her.”

You frowned for a second but then gave him a very hesitant smile. “Really?”

“Really,” Caliban repeated. “It’s not every day you find a girl who’ll steal your car and then leave it absolutely wrecked without leaving so much as a note for your insurance company.” 

You laughed and covered your face with your hand. 

“In her defense, she did leave my tires alone,” Caliban said with a mischievous smile. 

For the first time, Caliban’s heart didn’t wrench at the sound of your laugh. You knew the truth and you seemed to care about him anyway. “Shut up,” you told him. You grabbed a fistful of Caliban’s shirt and pulled him closer. 

Your first kiss was rushed and clumsy - you wanted to kiss him and Caliban needed to kiss you. After a shared laugh, your second kiss was less frantic and a little smoother - your hand cupped his jaw familiarly and his arms held you without having to think. Then there was your third kiss, your fourth … each one better than the last.

by the way, loves, here’s the quote in case any of you were wondering: Elizabeth was much too embarrassed to say a word. After a short pause, her companion added, “You are too generous to trifle with me. If your feelings are still what they were last April, tell me so at once. My affections and wishes are unchanged, but one word from you will silence me on this subject forever.”

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#ten things #Chilling Adventures of Sabrina #caos #Caliban #caliban imagine #caliban x reader

[huntertales]

Part Two: Angel of Mercy. (Heaven Can’t Wait S09E06)

Episode Summary: When Dean gets a call from Castiel about a possible case dealing with spontaneous human combustion, the older Winchester decides to investigate–on his own. The reader decides to tag along. She doesn’t take no for an answer when Dean shares his odd hesitations on letting her work on a hunt with Castiel. Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader Word Count: 3,514.

Previous Part | Supernatural Rewrite Masterlist

You suppose the different ways Cas could have ended up after going his own way might have been worse than where he was today. The angel-turned-human was blending into society without much trouble. Sure, he was a little awkward. Didn’t get most things like etiquette and social norms. You hoped he picked up enough knowledge from the few years he spent among humans. So far from what you could tell, he was doing okay. It made you breathe a little easier in some kind of reassurance that he was able to do things on his own without any help from you and the boys. Much as you wanted to lend a hand on this journey to make sure he was all right. 

In some way you understood a little too well the vulnerability of learning how to live on your own. You struggled to find your own footing after your mother passed away. John was unreliable in any way. He took the boys and went on his way after making sure the legal aspects of you living on your own were cleared. Occasionally he checked on you to make sure you were still alive. He taught you some tricks on how to protect yourself from monsters. But he never taught you anything useful in life. Basic skills on how to be an adult. Your mother might have planned out your life for when you turned eighteen, thinking she had a few years to help teach you to live without her. Things never worked out that way. A demon threw a wrench in her plan and screwed everything up. 

Angels, demons. Whatever kind of creature it was, they always somehow managed to screw everything to hell. While the circumstances were vastly different compared to the situation Cas was dealing with, it all boiled down to the same thing. The lifestyle you relied on, the normality that you didn't realize you depended so much on, vanished. You had to deal with the loneliness and responsibilities of being an adult. You were forced to grow up quickly and learn how to be an adult, Cas had to learn how to be...human. Learn the things that were second nature to you. The proper importance of daily hygiene and when to eat—and what to properly eat. Things he never had to worry about before. 

Somehow Cas learned enough to have made it this far without his fellow siblings sniffing out where he was. He found his footing and blended with society. He was just another average human working a day job. From what you were able to observe from the distance it seemed like Cas was just another average working waiting on people. Maybe a little more on the stranger side. No matter what, Cas had a slightly awkward charm to him. He was doing all right. But you weren't satisfied with a distance observation. 

Cas was behind the counter tending to a customer with a little too much enthusiasm for a retail worker. The woman was a little weirded out from the thumbs up he gave after handing over her lotto ticket. She forced a smile of her own before being on her way, letting the next customer in line step up. Which turned out to be two familiar faces the angel didn't expect to see. You offered the guy a smile from the look of shock that crossed his face. Dean wasted no time making things awkward when he pretended to be another paying customer. 

"I'll have some beef jerky and a pack of menthols." Dean said. 

“What are you two doing here?” Cas asked in a quiet tone of his voice. His body language drastically changed from the customer he tended to before. All of his friendliness seemed to have vanished for his friends who drove all the way here for him.

"Gee, it's nice to see you, too, Cas." You replied to the angel's rather frigid and distant greeting with a bit of hurt in your voice. 

"It's Steve now." The angel corrected you. You furrowed your brow slightly when he gestured to his nametag pinned to his hideous blue vest he wore. You forced yourself to bite back a laugh from the reality of the situation. Heaven's most fierce and loyal soldier was now working at a gas station. "And...you both surprised me."

"Well, the feeling is mutual." Dean agreed with the angel. He offered little support for the struggle Cas had to go through in order to keep himself safe. He found all of this comical as yourself, but he didn't have the restraint to keep his feelings well hidden. The sight of his friend working in retail was all too amusing not to pass up the chance to poke fun at the situation. "I  mean, I knew you had to lay low from the angel threat, but, uh, wow! This is some cover." 

Cas didn't find the way you and Dean were handling what he had been doing very helpful. He moved a few steps down the counter so the three of you could continue this conversation away from any lingering ears. "My grace is gone. What did you expect?" Cas asked. "Do you have any idea how hard it was? When I fell to earth, I didn't just lose my powers. I had nothing. Now...I'm a sales associate." The angel tried to see the silver lining of things at what he was able to accomplish on his own. You and Dean weren't as enthusiastic as him for the way he was living his life compared to the way it could be. 

A delivery driver briefly interrupted your conversation so he could get Cas to sign off on some products. "I'm responsible for inventory, sales, customer service." Cas scribbled down the fake name he'd been going by and thanked the driver before continuing on of all the things he deemed important. You never liked to stick your nose up at the hard work people do for whatever job they might do, but seeing this was...pathetic. “I keep this place clean and presentable. And when my manager’s busy, I even prepare the food. 

"Wow." Dean didn't even try to hide his opinion on what he thought of this whole thing. "So you went from fighting heavenly battles to nuking taquitos?"

Cas must still be learning how to read between the lines of what people say to the tone of their voice. He didn’t understand that Dean wasn’t being supportive from the way he spoke his words. The angel still smiled, like he was proud of himself. “Nachos too.” 

You and Dean silently agreed this whole arrangement was not working out. But the angel refused to see things from your perspective. He thought what he was doing was perfect. It might be for any fellow normal human. Not for an angel like him who had done so much. He couldn’t waste out the rest of his days working nine to five and waiting on people. You wanted him back on the road with you and the boys. Trying to get his grace back and fix his home that was up in heaven. Cas continued on working, refusing to keep entertaining this conversation standing idly while he got paid. 

“This is not you, man. You are above this.” Dean tried to talk some sense into the angel while he stepped out from the stockroom carrying a box full of products. “Come on.” 

“No, Dean. I’m not.” Cas said. He set the box down on a shelf and gave you the real reason why he refused to budge on his new life. The simplicity of it all was comforting to him. “I failed at being an angel. Everything I  ever attempted came out wrong. But here, at least I have a shot at getting things right. I guess you can’t see it, but there’s a real dignity in what I do—a human dignity.” 

“Hate to interrupt you guys, but, Steve?” You looked over your shoulder when you heard a female voice jump into the conversation. A woman stood with a mop and bucket at her side, from the familiar vest she wore it was clear she was one of Cas’ coworkers. “Customer had an accident in the men’s room.”

“I’m on it.” Cas said. 

“Oh, and tonight—seven at my place work for you?” She asked a vague question that made you wonder what they were talking about. Cas nodded his head, and the way his lips stretched into a smile helped connect the dots. She returned the smile with one of her own. "You're the best." 

You picked up enough social cues to realize what was going on. Dean had a feeling himself of what was brewing between Cas and his coworker. “That’s what this is about!” You softly nudged the angel in the arm and smiled at him. Cas responded with absolute confusion at what you were hinting around. “Come on. The girl.” 

“No, Y/N. It’s not.” Cas said. You rolled your eyes and raised your brow from what he was trying to deny. Either that, or he was too naive to understand what his friend was hinting around. Cas was even more clueless when it came to things as romance. Poor fella nearly got himself killed after being led to bed by a pretty face. "Nora—she's a very nice woman, I'm pretty sure she's not a reaper intent on killing me, and she's asked me out. That’s something humans do, right?”

“Yeah. I mean, my dates used to end when I ran out of singles. And I can’t tell you the last time Y/N and I went on one.” Dean said. Your love life as hunters meant your chances of dating were rare to almost none. The world ending and angels falling out of the sky put a damper on your relationship at times. But for someone like Cas, who was trying to live like the average person, they were. Dean had to agree with him on that. “Yeah, that’s something that humans do.” 

Your conversation was briefly stopped at the sound of Dean's phone going off. He stepped away to take it when he recognized the number from the sheriff you spoke to at the first crime scene. It allowed Cas to tend back to his job to work on stocking the shelf 

“There was another kill—over at the high school.” Dean informed the both of you. “You comin’, Cas?” 

“I wouldn’t be much use.” Cas mumbled. “I don’t have my powers.” 

“So? I’ve had powers and not once did they help me with hunting.” You said. “Dean’s never had powers and he manages to do just fine.” 

“Both of you are hunters.” Cas said. 

“And you’re a hunter in training, remember?” You reminded the angel.

“Yeah.” The angel replied with the least enthusiastic tone he could muster up. You didn’t understand why he wasn’t willing to get back into the game. “Dean said I sucked.” 

You huffed out a breath from Dean's abrasiveness and turned your gaze over to the man. Your hardening expression made him suddenly regret his words spoken in the past. "I didn't say that." Dean tried to back himself out of the corner he put himself in. But he struggled to do so when you crossed your arms over your chest, waiting for his response. "I said that there was, uh, uh...you know, 'room for improvement.'"

“Come on, Cas.” You said. “For old time’s sake.” 

Cas let out a sigh of defeat, deciding to agree with the plan after all. “All right, my shift’s over in five minutes, and my date’s not until later, so…” 

“Attaboy!” You cheered, lightly slapping a hand on his shoulder from seeing him hunting again. “Dean, go make yourself useful and get the car.” 

“Not just yet.” Cas stopped the man from heading out the door. You and Dean gave the angel a confused response from the interruption. It seemed you forgot Cas was still on the clock. “I have to clean the bathroom.” 

“Have fun.” You said. You tried to hide the grimacing expression that wanted to cross your face at the idea of what he had to do. While Cas made his way over to the mop, you called out some friendly advice. “Make sure to wash your hands afterwards.”

+ + + 

The three of you arrived at the crime scene a short time after Cas finished up work. You and Dean flashed your badges to the officer keeping an eye on the scene after you ducked under the police tape guarded off the crime scene. A crowd of high schoolers gathered around to figure out what was going on. Cas trailed behind the both of you, still wearing his vest after you told him to take it off. Thankfully nobody said anything. The angel went off to explore the scene while you and Dean headed over to the sheriff who was speaking to a teenager who looked to be distraught at what she witnessed. Her arms were crossed tightly over her chest and cheeks stained with tears as she retold the story of what happened to the sheriff.

“One second we’re talking, and the next, she just...stops.” The girl explained the situation that led to all of you here. “And then everyone in the cafeteria freaks, rushing and pointing out the window, at—” She couldn’t finish her sentence from the sob that escaped her from the grief she was feeling. Your expression softened as she placed a hand to her mouth to keep the noise from escaping. “Could—Could that really be her?”

The school bus that was helping block out the crowd of students was also covered in the same bubblegum pink shade you saw at the previous crime scene. Unfortunately what killed the four previous victims striked again. 

“And nobody saw anybody else at the crime scene—a man, woman, anything unusual?” You asked her, hoping she might give you some kind of lead into figuring out what might be to blame for this. The girl responded by shaking her head and shrugging her shoulders. Your next question you approached in a softer tone. “Your friend, was she possibly depressed?” 

“Depressed?” She repeated your question, not sure what you meant. 

“Any thought of suicide?” You explained a bit more bluntly. 

“Ew. No.” The girl responded in the most teenage way possible when her expression scrunched up at such a thought. “I mean, she was kind of bummed that dick-bag Travis broke up with her in front of the whole school.” Dean gave her a curious expression at what she meant by kinda bummed. “Like more bummed than when she got a ‘C’ on a quiz, and less bummed when her parents split up. Kinda...bummed.” 

The girl's tone of voice shifted into anger at the strange questions you were asking her. You figured you weren't going to get much else out of her from what she told you. You felt a slight nudge to your arm from Dean to get your attention. He nodded his head for you to follow him after discovering Cas was nowhere to be seen. You looked around yourself, but the angel disappeared. You excused yourself with a small smile before heading with Dean to find where your friend wandered off to. 

Cas made his way back to the Impala after scoping out the crime scene himself. It seemed whatever happened caused some sort of distress in him. You started to grow concerned when you found him with both hands on the hood, his body hunched forward and head hanging low. 

"Cas, what's wrong?" You asked the angel, your tone growing with concern. 

“I’ve seen this before.” Cas said. You and Dean exchanged a glance at one another from the sort of twist you weren’t expecting. It prompted you to ask him where, leading to a creature you would have never suspected. “In heaven.” 

"What?" You tried to hide your frustration from the mention of his siblings possibly to blame. But it didn't come much as a surprise to you. All sorts of angel activity had been sprouting up all over the country since the fall. "Are you saying an angel did this?"

“It’s no ordinary angel.” Cas mumbled. He fell silent for a moment, at the overwhelming energy around him. The angel might have been stripped of his powers that rendered him vulnerable as a human, but he could still feel the presence of his fellow brother. "Dean, Y/N. This is bad. This is very bad.”

You quickly moved the conversation elsewhere when the topic turned into something you didn't want a civilian or a cop to overhear. The three of you got into the Impala to further discuss what Cas discovered. And what this might mean for the rest of this town. 

“On the battlefields of heaven, there was a special class of angels, the rit zien. It's enochian for 'hands of mercy.'" Cas explained to you and Dean about the history of his fellow siblings. The one who were to blame for these murders. "They function like medics. They tended to the wounded. They healed those who could be healed, but for the mortally wounded, those who were past saving, the rit zien's job was to put them down."

“But the granulated bodies?” Dean asked. 

“This was their special ability.” Cas went on to tell you more. “They had this way of smiting that was so quick and so total that it rendered death virtually painless.” 

“Yeah, but these aren't wounded angels that they’re vaporizing,” You noted the key difference between the angels’ victims and who they were trained to take down. “they’re pepole.” 

“Right. I don’t know. The rit zien home in one pain, like it’s a beacon to them. So, when this angel fell to earth, he heard the victims’ cries, their anguish,” Cas started to piece together the reason why all these people were targeted. Pain was pain to this angel. They weren’t able to tell the difference. “Same as he’d hear an angel’s in heaven. He’s continuing his heavenly work down here. One suffering human at a time.” 

“Yeah, but this last victim was not suffering.” You said. The highs and lows of being a hormonal teenager with their fluctuating emotions was something you and Dean were no stranger to. Both of you had been the victim’s age what felt like many years ago. You knew there was no correlation to the depressed and suicidal victims he killed before. “She was just a normal, moody kid.” 

“But he just got here. The ebb and flow of human emotion—guys, I’ve been on earth for a few years, and I’ve only begun to grasp it.” Cas said. He put things into perspective at what this might mean. You slowly began to realize that everyone in this town was at risk. “To him, pain is pain.” 

“So everybody’s fair game?” Dean took a wild guess at what the angel was hinting at, Cas nodded his head. The older Winchester let out a scoff as he rolled his eyes from the furthered complications about this case. "All right, well, we got to stop him."

“You and Y/N have to stop him.” Cas corrected the man. 

You furrowed your brow slightly from the angel's response. You leaned over in your seat to catch a glimpse of his face when he turned his head to look forward. A familiar expression you'd seen before crossed his features. "You're scared."

“It’s different now, Y/N.” Cas admitted to you. “Everything feels different.” 

“You’re right.” Dean thought to himself for a few seconds before agreeing with the angel. Cas was doing fine on his own, he needed to worry about the safety of yourself with the other angel hitching around in your body. It was how things needed to be for now. “All right, Y/N and I’ll track down this kevorkian wannabe, and we’ll put him down.” 

“Okay.” The angel mumbled. 

“Stay safe, please. I don’t want to worry about you every second of the day.” You told the angel. You flashed him a farewell smile, thinking this was where your paths together ended. “Go on that date, all right? You deserve some happiness for once. Hell, live a normal life if that’s what you really want.”  

“Okay.” He repeated his response again. You gave him a funny look from how he was acting. Dean turned on the engine and looked over to the angel. A few seconds passed and Cas continued to sit in the passenger side, causing Dean to wonder if he was going to go his own way. “I need a ride.” 

You had to stifle a chuckle from the favor he was asking of you. Cas managed to find a job on his own and was adapting slowly to human life, but it seemed there were still some things he needed working on. Getting there might be a slow and steady process, yet you had a feeling Cas would be just fine on his own. 

[Next Part]

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[nothlits-archive]

Zoe lunarsystem13 / lunar_system13 / lemonscenteddaves / zazberry is a dangerous person.

Other names they may go by are Raven, Cassandra, Luna, and various other system member names but they primarily identify themself as Zoe or the Lunar System and frequently use the number 13 and blue and purple heart emojis as an identifier. As far as I know they are only active on tiktok now, but do have Twitter and Instagram accounts under the above usernames.

This isn't to get attention or to be petty about anything. I just want to be fully open about my experience and I want to be able to explain my feelings concisely in one place. The biggest reason I'm writing this is because I am scared that Zoe will do to other people what they did to me, because they've shown themself to be unrepentant. I attempted to bring things up with them privately when we were still on speaking terms and it resulted in gaslighting about past situations and a complete refusal to listen to or speak to me ending in uninstalling discord to avoid me.

Content warnings for abuse, gaslighting, disordered eating, hospitalization, drugs, alcohol, sexual harassment, cheating, mentions of death. 

Zoe and I dated for about two years from 2018-2020. We broke up in January 2020 and were on speaking terms until early May. We initially broke up amicably because I felt emotionally neglected and wanted to give Zoe the space they needed to work on some personal problems they'd been struggling with for some time by that point. We agreed they needed more time to themself and didn't have the energy to expend on both self betterment and a partner. I wanted to stay friends with them and stop letting myself get hurt by an absent partner. 

A few weeks after breaking up, Zoe and I got into an altercation where it came out that Zoe had, for the entire duration of our relationship, felt that I would never have been able to meet their needs emotionally no matter what I did and elected to never share this with me or end the relationship. They told me they would eventually just make up for my shortcomings by "getting another partner". Zoe and I were both polyamorous, but this is NOT how I practice polyamory and I didn't think it was how they practiced it either. This totally broke me. 

After this, Zoe blocked me on Twitter and discord. Without apologizing to me for anything, they began messaging every friend of mine they had contact info for, "apologizing" for hurting me and trying to spread a narrative that I was telling people the wrong information about them to make them look bad. Some of the people they messaged were people I did not talk to about my personal life and who had no idea that we had even fallen out. Some of them were my closest friends, who thankfully knew Zoe was full of shit and blocked them. They messaged my boyfriend and told him that they thought I'd only started dating him to get back at them for not reading my fanfiction, a claim that absolutely gutted me as it was never something on my mind and I would NEVER commit to a relationship for the sake of petty revenge over a fanfiction. 

I had to message them from a second Twitter account to ask them about what to do with all of their belongings I still had and tell them not to worry about returning mine. I also messaged them that way to explain that what they'd done and said had devastated me and to reprimand them for messaging my friends weird shit about our personal business. They initially completely ignored me for multiple days until I texted their phone and asked them to let me know if they'd read my message so that I could move on and stop worrying about it all. 

When they finally responded, it was with hostility and they only stopped slinging accusations about me when I told them I didn't see them as a bad person (a statement soon to change). We tentatively made up after they did one of their infamous 180s on me and apologized profusely to me, claiming they understood what they did was wrong now. Debatable.

This is where I think it's important to go into the content of our relationship. At the time of it all happening, I felt our relationship was healthy and stable. But red flags are hard to see when you're in it. 

Zoe is a highly manipulative and narcissistic person. If you look up covert narcissism, they fit the bill 100%. They lie intentionally and consistently in order to make themself look innocent. They gaslight people to play the victim. They repeatedly put me into positions where my only option was to comfort them while ignoring my own feelings. If I stood up for myself or got upset at their behavior, I was told I was being cold or they would throw a tantrum about how traumatized they are and how they can't help it. I entered into a second relationship about a year into ours. Zoe was fully aware of and initially supportive of this, but after some time, any time I would bring up my other partner, Zoe would dissolve into accusations that I was going to leave them, accusations that I was ignoring them for my other partner, complaints that because of their disabilities they weren't as good (a repeated subject for them, which I always, always reassured them was not the case and it never was): all of this in order to obtain comfort from me over the existence of someone else in my life. 

At one point, my boyfriend was considering moving out of his unhealthy home to live with a family member over an hour away from me and Zoe went off the rails to both of us, telling us it wasn't fair for us to be near each other in person if they couldn't be there, how they'd been dating me longer so it was their right to be with me first, how my boyfriend should have to stay where he was even though it was a bad environment for him. This was not a plan. It was a vaguely mentioned idea. Nothing ever came of it. Zoe apologized for this, but their possessive behavior never stopped. This interaction made me feel like an object, not a person they supposedly loved. 

Another time, after visiting me, Zoe began harassing me over needing to be able to house them so they could move down to be with me permanently. They expected this to happen in a matter of months. Zoe is disabled and cannot work and at the time did not receive any government assistance. I work in retail and at the time was living with a friend's family. I did not have my own place. I could not afford to singlehandedly support myself, let alone two people. I told Zoe this, and they told me that if I didn't figure it out they were going to die. This devastated me. I cried for hours because of how bad they were making me feel over something out of my control. I could barely type out responses to them besides asking them to stop and apologizing, but Zoe kept telling me that I was acting like I didn't care and was choosing to give up on them.

After this passed, they did what they always did and flipped to affection flooding me: "I'm so sorry baby, it's okay, you didn't do anything wrong at all, I love you so much and know you're trying so hard". 

This sort of on/off behavior was constant. I never knew what was real, or if I'd actually done something wrong, or if Zoe was going to go off on me over the slightest thing. I brought this up to them multiple times. A lot of the time it was met with "I can't help it." Other times, they would apologize and then continue the same behavior. 

I first started telling them I was feeling neglected in October 2019. Nothing changed. When we broke up in January 2020 they told me I never gave them the chance to change or fix anything. They then told me the problems I was having were inherent to their dissociative disorder so it wasn't their fault. They also told me that me breaking up with them made them feel like there was no reason to go on, presumably to make me feel guilty for ending a clearly toxic relationship where they clearly still weren't learning what they were doing was wrong. 

Zoe would frequently accuse me of things I hadn't done and then behave as if those accusations were true. Not limited to: agreeing to mod a discord server my boyfriend made just to keep them out of it on purpose (the link was shared publicly on Twitter where they followed both of us and the server was 3 hours old when they confronted me), abandoning them and not talking to them at all for a week when I was extremely busy every day (I spoke to them at length every single day that week and was not unreachable at any point), many many instances of only being with my boyfriend because I saw them as not good enough due to disability (never true, ever). This led to me never being able to understand my own behavior because Zoe always acted as if I was doing something wrong regardless of whether I was or not. I was guilt tripped a lot for things I didn't even do. I believe Zoe is delusional and genuinely believed these things to be true, but that doesn't change that it hurt and scarred me to be treated this way for so long.

Zoe lied to me about their whereabouts and health frequently. Zoe has DID and many physical health problems they haven't been properly diagnosed yet because of the complex nature of their symptoms. I will not deny Zoe is disabled mentally or physically. But they often used this as a way to get pity or to guilt trip me. Near the end of our relationship, they would disappear for sometimes 14+ hours at a time with no warning. Because of this, I stopped reaching out to them about my feelings or trying to talk to them about anything serious because I had developed a sort of learned helplessness. If I felt that my partner was unreachable, I would spare myself the pain of reaching out and being ignored. My mental health was very poor at this time and I was struggling with my pet being sick and nearly dying. Zoe would tell me they were just sleeping a lot. I knew they were sick and often slept long periods, so I didn't push it but I did keep to myself. They became angry at me for not reaching out to them and told me they couldn't be there for me if I didn't reach out to them and that I didn't want them around. It was a cycle, and I'll admit that I contributed to it, but I did it to protect myself. This is all important because one of Zoe's alters soon told me that Zoe had been lying to me about sleeping and was actually just trying to intentionally keep me from knowing what was really going on, which I won't share because it's not relevant. Finding out my partner was lying to me when they were already being very absent in my life was a hard thing to handle. 

Zoe would also go on to lie about intentionally not eating when they'd told it to me as being physically unable to keep food down because of their Celiac's and lying to me about the length of a serious decline in health that ultimately put them in the hospital. When my pet rabbit, who is like a human child to me, was on the verge of death, Zoe messaged me telling me they were scared they were about to die. When I told them bluntly that they needed to go to the hospital if they truly felt that way, they told me I hurt their feelings and that they didn't literally think they were dying and only said that to me so I'd tell them they weren't dying. While they knew I was in a crisis over potentially losing a pet I consider to be my main emotional support for nearly a decade. Their selfishness is truly limitless and if they think anyone or anything is infringing on their victimhood, they will do whatever they can to get pity and attention.

I cannot confirm that this is a lie, but I have my suspicions about it and it's a toxic situation regardless of whether lying comes into play or not. When Zoe visited me for the first time, they were determined to get and use my thc vape pen. In the past, Zoe told me that weed (and specifically thc) caused them to have seizures and so they did not use it anymore. Because I'd been fed this narrative of how scary the seizures were and how dangerous it was for them and how they couldn't have it anymore, I refused to give them my pen. When I realized how desperate they were, I even hid it. I had to go to work for a few hours one night while they stayed in my home (again, where I live with a friend's family). They became unstable and were essentially begging me to use the pen. I repeatedly said no, saying I wasn't going to be responsible for them having a seizure. They still kept pushing me. Eventually they moved on to threatening to drink alcohol in the house that did not belong to me. They threatened to walk to a liquor store (there isn't one within walking distance and they were all closed). They were unrelenting about the pen. Eventually I gave in because I loved them and they were hurting. They did not have a seizure. I know that now they smoke weed constantly. There's no real proof that they lied to me. It's possible they were misinformed or their health has changed. But they have a long record of lying to look like a victim, and it still stands that they guilt tripped me and cried to me and begged me to give them a substance they had told me would make them sick until I gave in to them. They have openly admitted to intentional automatic lying and see this as being to their benefit.

Despite claiming to be asexual now (they did not for the duration of our relationship), Zoe sexually harassed both my boyfriend and a close friend of mine who I won't name for their privacy. Zoe would send sexual messages to both and sent images and shared nsfw content with one of them without considering boundaries or discomfort of the recipient. They badly triggered my boyfriend and ruined their relationship with him by being predatory. I mention this because I don't want the label of asexual to make anyone think Zoe isn't fully capable of being sexually inappropriate with people. They have a short track record of it. After the incident with my boyfriend, Zoe told me that THEY felt like their heart was being broken and that my boyfriend had manipulated them by being triggered by Zoe's predation. They expected me to comfort them over this and I refused. The entire scenario was brought up to me vaguely with Zoe refusing to give details and trying to simultaneously act as if they were the worst person who'd ever existed and like they were the one being hurt and deserved pity and comfort for being inappropriate. Despite the polyamorous nature of our relationship, I do consider going behind my back to be sexual with my boyfriend to be cheating. Zoe has in the past been accused of cheating by their first ex. They maintain that they didn't, but knowing what I know now about their issues with boundaries, I'm not sure.

In May, I finally decided to try to confront Zoe about the ways they'd hurt me. I brought it up to them in the context of wanting to make them aware of the ways their behaviors could hurt others going forward. Zoe has always been at least outwardly very about doing better and believing people about trauma and trying to fix your mistakes (yes, I realize how stupid I was to believe this now). I thought they would be open to listening to me so they could try to avoid hurting someone else the way I felt hurt. The way this conversation ended up going gutted me worse than anything else has with them. Worse than being told I'd never be good enough. Because it was like the person I knew was just completely gone and I didn't know them at all anymore. 

I brought up the on and off flipping behavior, the emotional manipulation, I provided a screencap of the conversation where they backed me into a corner about needing to figure out how to house them as an example. They responded by telling me I misunderstood the conversation and should've just apologized to them more and been nicer so they wouldn't feel like I didn't care (again, I'd been sobbing uncontrollably and could barely type responses which were mostly "stop", "I'm sorry"). Zoe refused to listen to me about my own trauma. They shut me down. The conversation ended with them telling me I was making them too angry and they'd be back later. They ignored me for four days and, I found out later, uninstalled discord completely to avoid having to read my messages. Instead of having a real-time conversation where we could actually hash things out and I could feel heard if not understood, I resorted to typing up all of my feelings in one message, telling them this was the last I'd be speaking to them because I couldn't keep torturing myself thinking we could be friends, and sent it. 

They replied to me via Twitter days later with a non-apology about how I just don't understand what it's like to have DID and telling me that they don't spend any time thinking about me or what they did to me because they are just so sick that they can't manage it.

This broke me, completely.

Figuring all of this out has been an ongoing process. I truly believed our relationship to be healthy until I began examining things while trying to heal, and realizing the wound just kept going deeper and deeper and deeper. It's been months now since we've spoken and I still can't process everything. I am constantly remembering more fucked up things they said or did to me or my friends. I don't feel like I need to document all of it, especially since it spans such a long time, I only need to give examples of repeated problem behaviors they have given no indication of changing. 

They are gaining a sizeable following on tiktok and that's what scares me. They are so manipulative and cruel and blind to other people's emotions or boundaries. They are self-important and refuse to be told that they're wrong about anything. They will do whatever they can in order to look blameless and innocent. They now claim an identity of self-actualization and I've seen a video where they try to posit that my life is "going poorly" because I don't believe in their religion and listen to a specific podcast about debunking pseudoscience. This is funnier than it is upsetting until you realize it's the same "your life sucks because you don't have the same belief system as me" argument Christians use constantly. Zoe made this statement knowing the trauma I went through regarding religion in childhood. So thanks for that one. It's minor comparatively but it's incredibly tone-deaf and a great example of their eagerness to seem like others are beneath them for arbitrary reasons. 

Zoe does not, as far as I know, have friends, really. All of mine dropped them once they realized what a manipulative person they are. But just knowing they are on a public platform worries me. I am an adult who has been severely traumatized repeatedly and I still fell into their trap. I don't want to think about what they could do if teens or otherwise more impressionable people came to be around them. They are big into social justice and try to seem harmless and allied with minorities to seem even less dangerous, but they absolutely are toxic and unable to acknowledge their wrongdoings in any real way. The last they told me, they were isolating themself to work on things. I don't know if this is true and I have no way of knowing.

I want to end this with self-accountability. I was not and am not perfect. When my relationship with Zoe began, I had just gotten out of an extremely traumatizing situation. I had acute severe dissociative episodes as well as hallucinations and very unstable mood in general as I was adjusting back to being in a safe(r) environment than I had been for the past year. I acted out and lashed out a lot. All of this was apologized for in the best way that I knew how and I have done my best to change my behavior going forward. I consider myself to be in a much better space now mentally. I am always willing to work on problem behavior as long as I'm made aware it exists. There are things I did wrong in this relationship, and I've thought a lot about it, questioning myself and catching myself in old ways of thinking to correct myself now in all of my relationships. I didn't write this to pretend like I did nothing wrong. I am not innocent. But not being innocent doesn't mean these things didn't happen to me, or that they couldn't happen to someone else if I don't at least try to warn people. 

Please don't message Zoe and definitely don't try to argue with them. Just don't engage with them. They've been given a chance to address their behavior maturely and they turned it down in favor of continuing to play the victim in public. Anyone trying to instigate anything with them is just going to give them more fuel to act that way. 

I have already been treated like a liar for some of this information or had people believe Zoe over me on whatever accusations they'd like to make about me. That's been damaging but there's nothing I can really do about it. I'm open to answering any questions but I'm also going to ask that if you do message me about this, please be civil about it. I'm putting myself in a vulnerable place by writing all of this and I am already scared of the outcome. But I routinely convince myself that I'm making things up because of the nature of being gaslit so much. So I needed a written record of that even if Zoe doesn't like it. 

If you read this, thank you. I've been internalizing a lot of things. Getting my experiences out somewhere concise will hopefully help my healing process. 

#am now going into hiding the rest of the day because i'm scared bye

[ateezmakemeweep]

richboy!seonghwa (part 14)

word count: 4k

angst, fluff 

(part 13) (series masterlist)

you watch from the window as seonghwa looks back at you with a pout, begging you silently to change your mind about joining him and the rest of the boys (minus one sulky bully). the second you came down this morning, all of them had pestered you for over an hour to go skiing with them.

"y/n, it's the last day and then we have to leave tonight," san whined which then only encouraged wooyoung.

"we didn't even get to see you try because lover boy stole you away!"

seonghwa shot him a dirty look, shoving him as he does so causing the boy to dramatically throw his body into hongjoong. but you only continue to giggle and smile and shake your head, in no way feeling inclined to spend the last day possibly breaking your leg.

"guys, i made this far without any injuries," you sigh before muttering, "well apart from the throw up incident and a sore scalp." you roll your eyes when seonghwa reaches out to pat your head, running his hand over your hair softly before you let out a scoff.

"don't act all nice when you're leading the charge in getting my leg broken!" 

and if that's all you had to say to get him to sigh and admit defeat, you wish you had said it much earlier. 

of course, he doubled and tripled checked that you were sure you didn't want him to stay back and do something else with you. but you nearly pushed him to the elevators, insisting you'd wait to see him off downstairs because you're not gonna ruin his fun.

so now you shoot him one last wave paired with a sweet smile, morphing your hand into an encouraging thumbs up. his frown quickly melts away and it's at that exact time hongjoong pelts him with a big ball of snow. you cover your mouth as you giggle, watching the small boy wobble up the hill as seonghwa gathers snow in his arms and charges after him.

you wait until they're out of sight to turn around, walking toward the exit to venture out into the town. 

apart from time in your room, you hadn't had much solitary during this trip so you throughly enjoyed window shopping in the pretty mountain town all on your own. you popped in and out of little retail stores and souvenir shacks, grabbing both of your parents keychains and a postcard to add to the lone collection on your fridge.

you continue to stroll through the town, watching little kids pelt each other with snowballs and fall backwards to make snow angels. the familiar sound of wailing has you snapping your head to a little girl, a lumpy mess of a snowman right next to her. you look around, not noticing any parents in her vicinity which causes you to walk over.

you bend down slowly when you're in front of her, a small smile on your face as you look at her. 

"hi, there," you say softly.

her wails stop but tears still stream down her face, looking at you warily before looking at the snowman.

"did you make that?" you ask, frowning at the sight of tears on her cheeks. she nods her head timidly, her little lips wobbling and it makes your heart break.

"you did a great job," you tell her but she only tucks her chin to her chest while shaking her head, angling her eyes upward.

"my-my brother said it looks s-stupid." your eyebrows furrow together, looking back to the boys pelting each other with snow and yelling loudly.

"well that wasn't nice of him." you say honestly, "i think he looks really nice."

"she," she quickly corrects, "she's a girl."

"sorry," you giggle quietly, "she looks really nice. how 'bout we finish her? maybe give her some eyes and a mouth?"

her glossy eyes widen, a small smile finally gracing her pretty face and you can't help but smile back when she nods eagerly. she takes your hand hesitantly before dragging you over to some nearby bushes where you both sort through sticks and rocks.

"look at this crazy one!" she gasps loudly a few minutes later, a sharp, jagged rock in hand.

"oh, my gosh that one is crazy! that could be her nose."

"ugh but what an ugly nose," she mumbles causing to you snort and sort through the muddy dirt to find a rock deemed attractive enough. 

it takes way longer than you anticipated, the girl either sneering or giggling at your choices before a smooth, round one is finally the one of her liking.

"you know though, someone might've liked that sharp nose on her," you tell her as you guys walk back to the snowman. "because not everyone would've found it ugly. like your brother said your snow-girl looked stupid, right? but we didn't find it stupid."

"hm...yeah," she says after a few moments of silence and you laugh at yourself for trying to teach some life lesson to a random little girl.

you lift her up slightly so she can place the pebbles you found for a smile, giggling and yelping when they fall off and onto her middle layer. she wiggles out of your hold after popping one on an eye, making room for you to put on the other and you thank her quietly as you position the two evenly. 

your heart drops when you turn around and don't see her anywhere in sight, eyes roaming the street and you can't believe you didn't ask the girl her name.

but then she's running toward you, coming out from the bushes and your lips turn into a smile when she shows you the sharp jagged rock from before. 

"i want this to be her nose."

you shouldn't feel as happy as you do, that your stupid little comment actually affected the mind of this child as she beams up at you with some underlying hint of approval.

"yeah? i think that's a good idea," you say, lifting her up again so she can plop the rock right in the middle of the circle. or, at least, what she perceived as the middle. because it's definitely a little off, extremely misaligned features and wobbly snowballs as a body but it's still cute.

"i think this looks really-"

"what an ugly nose."

as if the comment wasn't irritating enough, after completely contradicting the words from your life lesson, you're not at all surprised when you see yeosang standing there with a smirk on his face. you sneer at him, ready to lay into him before the little girl speaks beside you.

"we don't think it's ugly," she tells him, voice soft but firm and it makes you bite your lip to control your smile. "it looks nice."

yeosang raises his brow out at the little girl, unwrapping the scarf from around his neck and holding it out to her as some form of apology. "hey, try this. we can't have her getting cold, right?"

she looks at the scarf warily, moving her eyes to you and taking it after you nod your head. before she walks back to the snowman, she waves her hand for you to bend down and you burst out laughing at the comment she whispers in your ear.

"what did she say?" he asks when she walks away and you smirk because he sounds genuinely distressed over the secret comment of a little girl.

"she wasn't sure if you understood it was made out of cold snow," you say, humor in your tone as a laugh threatens to bubble out of you. a smile of his own crosses his face as he looks at the little girl attempting to throw it around the snowman's neck.

she turns around and utters the smallest "....uh," before you go over to help, lifting her up and the both of you giggling when the wind smacks the burberry scarf right in her face.

yeosang watches you with the child, a small smile on his face as he sees how natural you are with her. you're gentle and soft spoken, asking before you help her up and making sure her underarms are okay when you put her down.

he may or may not have been watching you the whole time from the cafe across the street, admiring the way you helped her without hesitation and gave her advice about kindness he could've used at the age. he saw the way you guys decorated the snowman together, all soft smiles and giggles as you peppered rocks over the snow.

shaking the thoughts from his head, he walks over to join you two before fishing in his pockets for-

"a carrot!" the girl screeches when she turns to look at yeosang the moment he appeared from behind. you shoot your head to look at him astounded. where the hell did he pull that out from?!

"is that why you've been such a grouch?" you mumble as she frolics closer to the sculpture and he steps a tad closer, "have you had that carrot lodged up your-"

"can you please put it on?" the little girl asks, standing next to the snow girl with a pout.

"sure," you say, throwing a glare at the boy trying to suppress a shit eating grin and loud cackle. 

you plop the carrot on and you both step back to assess your work, holding out your hand to high-five. just when your hands disconnect, you hear one of the boy's from the snowball fight call out what you assume is the little girl's name because her head snaps over before she nods her head.

"i..i have to go now," she says sadly and it tugs at your heart a little. "b-but thank you for playing with me."

you bend down to meet her height, smiling softly at her as you nod your head. "of course. it was nice meeting you!"

"nice meeting you. thank you for the carrot, mister," she says looking at yeosang and he smiles at her, sending a tiny wave. she looks at you shyly one more time before running off into the opposite direction.

you sigh as you stand up, turning around to squint your eyes at him.

"what?" he barks, "what could you possibly be mad about?"

"she was using the ugly nose," you whine, "i gave her a little talk about beauty being in the eye of the beholder and she picked the ugly nose! and then you had to go and pull that carrot out, the standard of snowman beauty."

"it was a snow girl," he says matter-of-factly causing you to let out a groan and ball your fists at him.

"i could just-"

he rolls his eyes before you can start, taking his scarf from the snowman before wrapping it back around his neck and padding off; against your better judgement, you follow after him.

"you following me now?"

"i was planning on going this way," you snap.

the two of you walk in silence on your way back to the lodge, his occasional glance your way causing you to snarl at him. he suppresses his laugh each and every time, opening the door to the lodge just enough to squeeze in before it falls back in your face.

you rip it open with a huff, quickly walking so you're right on his feet. 

he hears you and bites his lip to control his smirk, picking up his own pace ever so slightly and clicking on the up button of the elevator. you stand beside him staring at him, arms crossed and foot tapping.

"stop looking at me," he says, not making eye contact but feeling your gaze.

"don't slam the door in my face."

the door pings open and he steps in first, leaning against the wall and looking you up and down as you stay standing in the hallway.

"are you not coming in?"

"no," you spat, "i'm waiting for the next one."

he rolls his eyes, mumbling "so dramatic," under his breath and you raise your eyebrow at him.

"what was that?"

"i said you're so dramatic," he spits, "now get in here."

"fuck off, you were ignoring me just yesterday and now you want me to-"

his hand reaching out stops the doors from closing, pulling you by the sleeve of your jacket and roughly dragging you in.

"yeosang!" you screech, "what the hell!"

you rip your arm from his hold but his vigorous pressing of the close button does the trick, the doors slamming shut before you snap your head at him.

"what is your problem!" you spit, poking his chest roughly.

"why do you think i have a problem? you're the one being violent."

"gee, i don't know, maybe it's because you're so hot and cold all the time! or because you're like five different people, most of who are incredibly unpleasant and obnoxious! oh, or maybe because you just completely man-handled me into this confined space with you when clearly we can't be in the same room together without-"

the floor beneath you shaking is the first sign something is wrong, your words cutting off immediately as the sliver box shakes around you. 

a surprised, scared gasp leaves your mouth, your eyes quickly falling to the screen that's just reading “err.” and then to make matters worse, the lights begin to flicker just as the elevator stutters to a full stop.

"oh no, no, no, no, no!" you yelp, banging your fists on the door in a slight panic.

"yeah, because that's really gonna help," yeosang mumbles sarcastically.

and then it's as if a cord in you snapped.

because just like yesterday with that stupid girl, you've had enough of his shit. had enough of his hot and cold ways and snide comments and now you're stuck in this elevator about to have a panic attack.

"this is your fucking fault!" you yelp as you whip around, pushing him against the wall and firmly planting your feet. "why did you have to drag me in here! now we're both stuck in here and i've already been wanting to murder you these past few days."

"murder me?" he says with a laugh, "that's funny, i remember you were begging for my kindness as usual. don't you ever get tired?"

"don't you ever get tired of being a dick?" you screech, because you hate that he keeps saying that."don't you get tired of messing with my head by being nice to me and then go back to being a giant fucking asshole when i think you've changed?"

"who told you to feel that way?” he asks lowly, "who told you to think i'm a changed, nice person?”

"you know why," you spit because you're not gonna throw that night in his face, the night of the power outage when he actually opened up to you. but you are gonna throw the me or him comment in his face. "and you know, maybe you also shouldn't go around asking me who i'd rather kiss."

his demeanor immediately changes when you say that, tense and stiff and peering down at you with fire building behind his eyes. "i told you to stop mentioning that."

"why? what are you gonna do, yeosang?" you ask challengingly, pushing at his chest roughly when you see he's getting just as mad.

"you better watch yourself, y/n, i'm warning you."

"all of these threats and yet you don't do anything," you spit, "just call me names and do all your stupid back and forth shit but i see how much it bothers you when i mention that. see how much you want me to just drop it and forget it. but i can't and i won't so tell me, what the hell was that about?"

"i already told you i was shitfaced," he spits through his teeth, jaw clenched and eyes hard as he stares down at you. 

because your close proximity isn't helping, the intense fire building in his veins he always gets fighting with you as well as hearing that bratty, patronizing tone in your voice definitely isn't helping reign in his self control.

"i think that's just a lousy excuse," you tell him, "and i think you know that too."

"you think you know a lot of things," he says before finally stepping forward and moving closer to you. "you think just because you've decided to grow a pair that i'm gonna listen to you now? or tell you things you think you wanna hear?"

"what kind of things?" you ask, turning your head at him coyly.

"things i'm telling you to fucking drop."

"well it's too fucking late," you say, cursing back at him and the tension in the small box is building up more and more. it's basically sizzling between you two, the harsh words and heavy breaths and narrowing eyes closing in on both of you.

"i swear to god, y/n," he growls, backing you up until you hit one of the four walls.

"what, yeosang?" you spit, "i have the right to know. it just makes no sense why you would ask me something like that-"

"shut up."

"and then the next day, be a complete dickhead and ignore me."

"shut. up." he growls but you only push at his chest.

"you shut up!" you bite back and his jaw clenching causes you to swallow the lump in your throat.

you've completely forgotten you're trapped in an elevator right now, god knows what happening in the lodge or what they're doing to get you guys out. but it's truthfully the least of your concerns right now dealing with this. dealing with this obnoxious, asshole of a boy who from day one just knew how to get under your skin.

"you don't get to just stay stuff like that and then completely ignore it when i ask you about it! and if you're too big a coward to take responsibility for your actions then maybe you shouldn't-"

"i'm gonna tell you again. shut up, y/n."

"make me, yeosang. you fucking won't. you just look stupid proving time and time again what a coward you ar-"

his hand gripping the back of your hair has your eyes widening in surprise, maybe even a bit of fear you don't get to dwell on before his lips collide with yours. 

it's so fast and sudden but you find yourself kissing back almost immediately, like the second your lips touched, you were pouring all of your anger and frustration into him. he pulls at your hair again, pushing you further against the wall before trapping your body against his.

it’s a mess of open-mouthed kisses and wandering hands, your own gripping him by the shirt. he groans against you when it causes your mouths to collide further. his tongue licks at your lips and you eagerly open before you even notice, meeting his in an instant as if you're battling another fight. 

a fight that your brains have turned off for, all rational out the window as your bodies completely take the wheel.

it's a battle you quickly find yourself losing though, especially when his hand travels from your hair to your waist, squeezing it lightly and causing you to let out the smallest of whines. because you shouldn't like how much they feel on you like this, hard and rough and dominating.

you break apart for air and it's obvious in the way your glossy eyes stare at one another you haven't realized what you've done yet. haven't realized you both just disregarded someone and acted upon suppressed feelings and completely forgot that you two were just about to rip each other's heads off.

"don't call me stupid, again," he grunts out, "or a coward."

"why not?" you hum breathily, eyebrow quirked up teasingly. "when you do both so well.”

and just as you get the last syllable out, his lips are crashing onto yours again

it's rushed and sloppy and intense, his neck angled down to meet your lips and your hands moving to pull the back of his hair in frustration. frustration that you can't help but let him overpower you and frustration that you find yourself eager to match his intensity.

you lean your back against the wall and his hand comes next to your head, pressing his body against yours and you resist the urge to moan against his mouth. because everything about this is purely instinctual, you don't have to think about anything.

"maybe you'll learn to shut your fucking mouth now," he says when he breaks away from the kiss, his wet lips on your neck.

"m-maybe...you'll learn to..."

the feeling of his tongue licking your neck has the words dying in your throat, head leaning back against the wall for him to gain more access.

"what was that?" he mumbles against your skin, "were you trying to say something?"

you huff out angrily, annoyed by the cockiness in his tone and the willingness of your body. so you try again. "i was saying maybe you'll learn how to-"

"just shut up," he says and your lips meet for a third time, lips smacking together and tongues grazing when the elevator stuttering back to life acts as the reality check you need. 

because now you're both hyper aware of your bodies pressed against one another, your bruised, red lips just inches away after separating and the complete and utter fact that you two just made the fuck out.

yeosang throws himself off of you as you straighten up and fix your hair, feeling your flushed cheeks as the door pings open and the familiar feeling of guilt rushing through you hits you first.

and it must hit yeosang too, because you both snap your heads to see if seonghwa's gonna be standing there, see if he's gonna be the one to discover the sight of you both with puffy lips and tangled hair. but to your absolute luck, the hallways are empty,

yeosang rushes out first, raking his hand through his hair as his heart starts to race. he can't fucking believe he just did that. can't believe he was so reckless and rash and gave into his overwhelming feelings like that.

but you were both just so close, so full of burning anger and frustration and then once your lips touched, it's like he no longer had control.

he hears your footsteps behind him and he breaths in sharply, leaning against his cool door and then harshly exhaling when he takes in your appearance. because you look just as fucked as he feels.

"yeosang..." you say and you sound just as confused and thrown off as him. "what the fuck just-"

"nothing," he says quickly, shaking his head and staring down at you. "nothing. nothing just happened."

"you know damn well that wasn't nothing!" you whisper-yell because you have never been kissed like that before. granted you're not the most experienced person in the world, but you've read enough and heard enough to know there was nothing normal about that.

"well it has to be," he growls, "do you fucking understand what i just-what we just-" his hand pulls at his hair again. "seonghwa will fucking kill me."

your stomach drops at the verbal mention of his name, guilty tears and a knot in your stomach already forming. because you just kissed him last night. the boy who has shown you nothing but his kindness and devotion, a kiss that was so sweet and perfect and gentle and-

"he can never find out," yeosang says, "no one can. we can agree on that, right?"

you nod immediately because the feeling building up inside you feels crushing, like you're trapped and drowning and ready to crumple.

"right," you say but you can't let go of the fact that that was just so....intense. 

your eyes roam over his face to see if maybe all of your feelings are just one sided. if maybe you're twisted and get off on the fact he's mean to you. but you see him looking back, his eyes whirling with just as much conflict as his adams apple bobs.

"stop looking at me like that," he spits, "you have to just stop, y/n. stop...making me so mad to the point that i go and do that."

your mouth drops open and a scoff leaves your mouth. "are you....you're really gonna try to blame that on me! are you out of your mind-"

"i obviously am," he grunts out, shaking his head before fishing out his key and swiping it, "i'm obviously very much out of my damn mind," he muses. he's about to step in his room before he takes a deep breath and turns around to look at you again.

"just....forget about it. and don't ever mention it again, y/n. please," he says, the last word so strangled and pleading you find yourself nodding before he slams the door in your face again.

you're having a battle within yourself, the crushing feeling of guilt and confusion swarming through your veins and causing tears to prick at your eyes. because you really don't know what happened. one minute you were screaming and the next you were kissing, hands tangled and tongues clashing and-

"no, stop it!" you whisper to yourself as you open the door to your room. you walk around in a daze, trying to distract yourself by packing the last of your things and getting your toiletries from the bathroom.

but it's when you pass the dresser that the tears building up behind your eyes finally start falling. "no, no, no," you whisper quietly, your hands going up to touch the wilted petals of the flower. it was so full of life just last night, so bright and blossoming and you couldn't stop smiling when you thought about it.

but now it's just....dead and void of color and it's really making you wanna vomit as you let the tears stream down your face.

the nausea only gets worse when you meet back down at the lobby as night falls, forcing a smile when seonghwa barrels over to you happily and asks what you did for the past couple hours without him.

you hate how easily you lie through your teeth, telling him you just walked around town and hung out in your room.

you hate how soft his touch is and how quick he is to dote on you, walking you to the car by the small of your back and putting your bag into the trunk.

you hate that your heart sinks when he leans in and asks "you okay, little one?" and that the back of your eyes burn with tears when you smile up at him with a nod.

you hate that you catch yeosang's gaze and you both just share the same look of guilt and shame. because even though it felt wrong, even though you absolutely know you have to try and forget about it, neither of you are sure if you can.

(part 15)

#seonghwa #seonghwa angst #seonghwa fluff #ateez #ateez fluff #ateez angst #ateez fic #moodboard

[lightsandlostbells]

wtFOCK season 3, episode 2 reaction

In this episode, stuff ... happens ... in theory? Reminder again that negative opinions lie within, don’t read if you would prefer not to hear them.

EPISODE 2

Clip 1 - Morning after housewarming party

Zoë shows Robbe around the kitchen the night after the party, Senne goes off to “drink coffee in a clean room - it wasn’t my party” so there’s a moment of awkwardness with Zoë, I guess? I will say this: I’m not a Noorhelm fan, but I don’t mind seeing them being actually domestic instead of pointless drama, and while I don’t want the season to focus a ton on it, I don’t mind seeing drama that’s more grounded and less terrible than William and all the Nikolai rape response stuff.

A random dude who’s a one-night stand of Milan’s appears in the kitchen and Robbe and Zoë giggle. I was going to say that I wish Robbe appeared maybe a little more thrown/uncomfortable with it, or awkward, but then you can see him looking at the guy … considering … like maybe “hey I liked seeing that dude in his underwear” or just “hmmm wonder what it would be like to have a one-night stand with a man … gay thoughts can’t catch me” so like. An actual good moment! If they had combined this into episode 1, it would’ve really worked well and got us into Robbe’s attraction to men right off the bat.

But hey, both can happen! Show Robbe as awkward when confronted with proof of Milan’s gayness, yes sir there is man-fucking happening under this roof, and then at the end, have his discomfort turn to slight interest at the dude in his underwear. Robbe is conflicted in that he’s not comfortable with all this gay stuff, but at the same time, he can’t help but be intrigued.

On the one hand I think it helps to have the Isak more socially isolated at the start, but I do think Robbe and Zoë are really cute pals so far.

Clip 2 - Robbe and Noor in store (heh)

Robbe goes to meet Noor at work, she works in retail at a clothing store. They smile and make out. ...Why? Why is he actively pursuing her?

From a narrative perspective, pretend I don’t know where this season is going. Pretend I don’t know we are actually headed for a gay romance - which, hey, is kinda fair because we haven’t even met the male love interest yet. I am getting very mixed messages as to what Robbe wants. He seems to like this girl! But he didn’t want to have sex with her. OK… so maybe he’s asexual, or maybe he’s just not ready for sex. Maybe he feels nervous or like he has no idea what he’s doing because he’s a virgin, IDK. Perhaps we need to establish more clearly that Robbe’s hesitation in having sex or going farther with Noor is due to his lack of interest in girls, contrasted with his interest in guys. 

Of course, I know internalized homophobia is a thing, and that Isak did the same thing with Emma. But consider that we actively saw how his pursuit of her clashed with his inner feelings - we saw him try to avoid her, we saw his lack of interest in the bathroom or at kosegruppa , especially compared to his interest in Even, OR when he did pursue her, we saw him pressured by his friends to attend her party, or we saw him have to psych himself up in order to speak to her. There was contrast all the time. And we also saw a clear cause and effect when Isak did pursue her: Isak was Googling about how to be into girls when you’re gay. It was very clear that Isak’s external actions were at odds with his internal desires. I’m not saying that we need wtFOCK to spell out the same for Robbe. HOWEVER, we do need more to go off, because otherwise this reads as a teenage boy who likes a girl, but who isn’t super into sex with her, which could result from several reasons other than him being gay.

And yeah, there are a few moments where we tentatively broach the topic of gayness. But not many! As I mentioned previously those moments are also muddled with other issues, like the guys ditching Robbe for the girls is muddled with him being sad about his mom. Him apologizing to Milan is muddled with what could genuinely be an awkward moment, like Robbe could hypothetically be a straight dude who didn’t have the best reaction to a guy trying to kiss him? It seems like the most definitive evidence of Robbe being gay was in previous seasons, not this one.

But they’re making it feel like Robbe really likes Noor. They’re not selling me on where Robbe is in his journey. Is he trying to act straight for an audience, as Isak did? That makes no sense when he’s going out with Noor on his own, with none of his boys around. Is he in denial? Is he trying to act straight for his own sake? That makes more sense, but that’s when I really need more introspective Robbe POV. And I’m a big fan of show don’t tell, yet Isak’s season managed to be so subtle about it while making it obvious what his deal was, infusing every clip with the themes, letting us know what’s in Isak’s head. I have no idea what’s in Robbe’s head right now.

I guess maybe he went to visit Noor because Milan’s one night stand man gave him gay feelings and he needed to combat them? IDK, dude.

Anyway, Jana is there shopping and Noor drags Robbe into a changing stall, they make out, Jana interrupts to get Noor’s opinion. Robbe seems less enthusiastic but waits in the stall until Noor returns. Noor comes back in and she and Robbe make out, getting hot and heavy, borderline foreplay until Jana needs her help again. Robbe seems unenthusiastic. Noor goes back to work. Robbe gets a text from his mom asking why he doesn’t visit, does he not love her. Ouch! That’s actually a good moment for the family drama. Robbe looks conflicted.

Also, I like the shot of Robbe reflecting in the changing room mirrors. 

What was the point of this scene when the EXACT SAME THING happened in the last episode, just two clips ago? Noor tries to get it on with Robbe, he’s not into it, they’re interrupted. 

Was the point to have Jana there? Why is she there, anyway, is this going to be a plot point? Because she could have been the one to interrupt them last time if she needs to know about their relationship for some reason. Although everyone seems to know about Robbe/Noor getting together anyway, so ??? Was it to have someone interrupt them in the changing stall? Because that could have been any random customer who needed help. I mean, Noor’s manager could have yelled for her to come help with something.

The only thing that’s really different about this clip was the text from his mom, which could have occurred in ANY setting, like in the kitchen scene with Zoë.

Jana could have been there to reference her previous suspicion of Robbe’s sexuality, like she sees him and Noor and we can tell she doesn’t fully buy their relationship. But that doesn’t come through in the acting (no disrespect to the actress, because that is all on the director to come up with that angle). Or maybe Jana calling for Noor to help her could have seemed more calculated, like maybe Robbe seemed awkward with Noor, she picked up on that, and now she’s trying to help him out.

A small POV moment: we don’t need to see Jana and Noor outside the changing stall. It’s not necessary, their conversation has zero importance (like was this an ad for this clothing store or....) What would have been effective? Sitting with Robbe inside the stall, focusing on his miserable reaction, seeing him trying to psych himself up for Noor makeouts. We hear Jana and Noor talking outside the stall but it comes across as distant and detached - which is what Robbe is feeling. 

Clip 3 - Robbe goes to see his mom

We see Robbe in the hallway of the hospital - an actual good moment, potentially. He apologizes to Noor via text for leaving suddenly. She’s working, dude, you shouldn’t be there anyway.

I don’t mind Robbe meeting with his mom, that could be very good, but it’s also such a radical change that I hope they actually do something with it. If Robbe is willing to visit his mom in a mental health facility, then is he more informed about mental illness in general, and how will that affect his relationship with the Even? Etc. This is actually a big change from Isak’s attitudes about mental illness, and it doesn’t make as much sense for Robbe to parrot those same ignorant attitudes later. (EDIT from the future: lol) 

Robbe gets home from meeting with his mom. He tries to dodge Zoë’s questions about it, but she says, “You can try it with Jens and them, but not with me.” Well, on the one hand, I like Zoë and this is a nice relationship. On the other hand … uhhh, how close are she and Robbe yet, really? They’re getting friendly but are they at this level? 

Robbe is like, you don’t know how long this has been going on and Zoë apologizes. I do like that Zoë doesn’t really know what’s up and is giving him kinda generic advice? But also … I think part of the power of the Magnus talk was that Isak had been keeping the extent of his mom issues and his issues with mentally ill people to himself, when all this time he had a friend who understood. One of S3′s lessons for Isak was about opening up to people - that he wasn’t alone - and Magnus’ insight into having a mentally ill parent is one of the ways that lesson proves itself. For Robbe to be getting a pep talk about supporting mentally ill people so early on in the season seems like it could potentially undermine both the arc with his mother AND his relationship with Even, like … he’s had someone counseling him on dealing with mentally ill people all along, before he even meets his Even. I mean, Zoë basically gives the Sonja talk here. And now he’s also been in regular contact with his mentally ill mom. So while of course he can still have serious issues with mentally ill people, it does present quite differently from someone who’s been keeping them at arm’s length, like Isak. You have to account for that. (EDIT from the future: lol)

Milan comes in with his boytoy, Milan sprays whipped cream in his man’s mouth, they kiss.  This was done well, actually, because Robbe is shown in between them, and we see him taking them in, like … huh, two men kissing! Interesting! 

Robbe has a Moment and Zoë asks Milan and the guy to stop with the PDA. He calls out her hypocrisy since she’s always making out with Senne. (He’s right based on what we saw of them earlier.)

OK, Senne opening his mouth so Milan can spray whipped cream inside is actually adorable, and I kinda dig having an Eskild and a William interact in an affectionate way. 

Robbe watches the men kissing again, hmmmm. Good job, this is what we need from his POV.

Senne is leaving to go hang out with his pal. Zoë seems kinda sad he’s not eating with them. I mean all things considered, taking it at face value so far, this seems like normal couple shit and not something to make a big deal out of. Things change when you move in together or when one of you goes to university, duh. Not that it’s bad to explore this, just that it’s not a huge cause for concern yet.

I laughed because the subs say that Zoë describes the salad as “lettuce, tomatoes, and cheese” and that is definitely not what we see on screen. But at least Zoë being fussy over what Robbe eats is some good characterization, it makes sense for her.

Clip 4 - Skate park

The boys are talking about how to jerk off with a numb hand. Robbe shares a Look with a dude who walks by, Now that definitely is the Even, right? Unless they were just messing with audience expectations? (EDIT from the future: Looks like Sander to me, but I don’t know what the audience consensus is.)

Jens recommends jerking off with toothpaste … okay as a non-dick haver I cannot vouch for this but. I feel like this would lead to Bad Things. Aaron’s reaction of clutching his crotch seems apt.

Is bike dude the Even instead???

OK LMAO NO, IT’S NOOR, I couldn’t tell because of the distance at first and also because my visual processing skills are not the greatest.

See, it would’ve been better if it were the Even. Because I thought they were grilling Robbe on having sex with Noor while his attention kept drifting back to the guy on the bike, which is decent storytelling and communicates where his interest really is ... but it’s actually Noor so there’s none of that subtext there.

Robbe rushing to make out with Noor can at least be interpreted as him wanting to show off for the boys. Moyo wants to join in? Hmmmm.

You dumbasses KNOW you interrupted the sex, weirdos.

Wait, so ... what was the point of this scene? 

I’m not trying to be funny, I’m asking seriously. Everything in this scene was either irrelevant to the overall story OR something that had already been established, such as Robbe’s awkwardness about sex with Noor ... or the fact that he’s with Noor ... the boys knowing that he’s dating Noor? About the only thing that was new to this clip was the brief glance between Robbe and the mystery dude, something that could have been included in another clip. Are we setting up that Moyo is interested in Noor? Maybe they get together after Robbe breaks up with her? (EDIT from the future: no) Or there’s a dramatic scene where Jens is rushed to the hospital after a toothpaste-related dick mishap? (EDIT from the future: no, although it would have improved the season immensely)

Clip 5 - Seaside arrangements

So I guess the boy squad makes YouTube videos or w/e?

Aaron’s happy to see Amber approach. Amber asks if Noor is coming to the seaside. So what, is there a joint girl and boy squad beach trip or whatever? The seaside trip is to hook up, I guess.

God, I would actually kinda dig Aaron and Luca as a couple more than Aaron and Amber. 

Robbe looks bummed that Noor will be joining them, and at the prospect of “sex on the beach” so hurrah for that detail.

Err, kinda weird, though, that the point of this clip seems to be nagging Robbe into inviting Noor (which is fine, a way to communicate his discomfort and the fact that he’s in too deep with Noor) but then at the end Amber is like oh nm, Britt already asked Noor and she’s coming? So the whole bit with nagging Robbe ... did not matter. I think it would have worked better either way: Robbe is peer pressured into inviting the girl he didn’t want to go, OR Robbe is powerless to prevent the girl he doesn’t want to go from coming with them. It just feels like this is unfocused writing by trying to have it both ways.

So will the YouTube thing be plot relevant? 

Clip 6 - Boy squad and Noor in hallway

12:21, I see what you did there. Maybe.

Noor is handing out flyers for a school performance, she kisses Robbe. WAY TOO MUCH TIME IS SPENT ON NOOR AND ROBBE.

If I were watching this show with NO prior knowledge of this storyline, I think I would feel so unbalanced when Even comes around? Even with the previous hints about Robbe from earlier seasons.

Robbe is like, I don’t think this dance is for me, while the boys look around. Uhhh, I mean … if this is supposed to be the equivalent of Emma’s pre-drink, it’s stupid? Getting invited to drink with a girl you made out with once =/= getting invited to a dance performance by a girl you are clearly dating and making out with every opportunity. One of these is clearly a bigger deal. I get that Robbe isn’t into her (SUPPOSEDLY) but this is just a weird way to adapt that scene. He’s not trying to shake off someone he regrets making out with; this is someone he is actively instigating makeouts with, so why the sudden regret? I guess it’s because now he doesn’t want to go to the seaside with her? But he just kissed her two seconds ago! Either Robbe is trying to get out of his thing with Noor, in which case we should see him being awkward when she tries to kiss him - not smiling and touching her as he does - or he’s still fully on board trying to date Noor, in which case why wouldn’t he agree to go to her dance performance?

And the other guys are like, AGHAST because obviously they want to watch hot girls dance. So it is a direct adaptation of that Emma scene. Except it doesn’t make sense.

Also, Robbe is rude and dismissive to Noor about it, and she walks away with a frown, but that doesn’t make sense with his characterization so far!!! Because there is NO evidence of him being a fuckboy in this season, so far he’s honestly been pretty chill and sweet with Noor (visiting her at her work, etc.) and he keeps actively engaging with her on a level that Isak was not doing with Emma. I GUESS you could extrapolate to say he wants to turn her off so he doesn’t have to go to the seaside with her and bang her, but lmao, that’s me giving way more credit to the writing than is merited, and again, makes no sense considering he seemed perfectly fine with kissing her just now.

Or he tried to get out of it because dance sucks and men don’t go to dance performances? IDK, dude. I have a hard time following the logic of this scene based on what we know about Robbe and Robbe/Noor so far.

The boys talk Robbe into going because it’s his duty to help them get pussy. What charmers.

Actually, this is also dumb because they could just go to the dance performance themselves? Emma was clearly inviting Isak to her private party and the others were only invited by proxy, so Isak agreeing to go was a requirement for the other boys to attend. But in this situation, Noor is passing out flyers to everyone walking by, and the dance performance is a school function for anyone to attend, so who gives a shit if Robbe wants to go or not? They’ve already established they’re cool with ditching him to chase girls, they can just go without him if he’s being a sourpuss. I guess they need him to be the bridge between them and Noor’s hot dance friends.

Noor comes back and is happy they’re going.

Clip 7 - Milan pranks Senne

Zoë complains about Senne coming home and snoring all night, and like, lmao, that’s charming, but also … that’s just part of being in a relationship and living with people, lol. If snoring is your biggest concern, YOU ARE DOING FINE. You’re young and figuring out how to live together. You’ll be fine. 

There was probably Discourse about Milan getting “revenge” by hopping into bed with Senne, and I get it but I’m tired, dawg. Let’s just acknowledge this is hinky and leave it at that.

Senne freaks out when he kisses Milan by mistake. Zoë and Robbe laugh. Missed opportunity to show us a more complex reaction from Robbe! Gay shit keeps happening around Robbe and sometimes he has a reaction with serious thought behind it, and something it just happens, no big deal, ha ha. When the main arc for your protagonist of this season has to do with accepting his sexuality, why are you half-assing this stuff?

What is the point of this clip if we’re not getting some insight into Robbe’s POV? It’s cute that we’re getting to know the roommate dynamic, I guess. Upcoming drama with Zoë and Senne? No need for that to be its own clip instead of part of something relevant to Robbe himself. Milan likes getting revenge, as foreshadowing to an absolutely atrocious clip that happens later in the season?

Robbe considers Milan … I think? Frankly they make this seem like buildup to Robbe having a crush on Milan. I guess he’s supposed to be like, whoa, what a bold gay guy! He kisses boys!

I mean … I don’t really know what’s going through Robbe’s head. I don’t want to be spoon fed information, but I also kinda need to know what Robbe is thinking and feeling if this story is to make any impact on me. And I think I just don’t know where Robbe is at with his sexuality. It feels like maybe he’s tiptoeing into the realization that he’s into guys? Isak knew he was gay, he just tried to perform heterosexuality due to social pressure and internalized homophobia. Robbe does not seem like he knows. Which is … kinda off, because I’ve seen S1, I know he’s got some suspicion. It’s just feeling inconsistent.

Clip 8 - Sleeping arrangements

They arrive at the seaside, there’s a room with two single beds pushed together for the couples, like Robbe and Noor. He doesn’t seem too thrilled about that!

Moyo manages to make it an empty room for whoever wants to fuck, inadvertently helping his bro out.

Except Noor shows up and decides to sleep in the same bed as Robbe anyway. 

Are Moyo and Luca going to hook up, is that where their banter is heading? Who are the boys hoping to hook up with, anyway? Because the only single women on this trip appear to be Jana, Amber, and Luca. Aaron is into Amber, and I guess Jens might want to hook up with Jana again??? But who is Moyo considering? I suppose there are other girls in the area who are not specifically with their group.

Clip 9 - Robbe and Noor scene #26232452634

Zoë texts Senne she misses him, and he’s like #metoo, which is … lmao, MEN.

Amber is like, lol men. Please be gay, Amber!!!! 

She shows Zoë a pic of Senne on Insta, he’s having a good time, Amber tries to start some shit … GOD I ALREADY DON’T CARE

I mean, the thing is … I can get into couples’ mundane problems! But not when it’s a het couple having boring het drama in a season that’s supposed to be focused on a gay storyline with a primary gay romance that hasn’t even started yet.

Zoë has a sensible reaction, that just because they’re a couple, they can still have fun and live their own lives, although it’s delivered in a way that I know she is not really okay with it.

Aaron pulls Robbe aside because Noor has passed out in the grass. Noor pulls Robbe down to cuddle with him. He’s kinda ehhh about it, they make out, Noor is ready to bone. Robbe is not into it. She’s about to give him a handjob in the grass (like … within eyesight of their friends) when she pukes, a physical manifestation of Robbe’s feelings about sexy times with Noor. He wipes grass/puke/whatever off her face while she lies there, out of it. (Roll her onto her side, Robbe!)

What a pointless, redundant clip. What is going on?

TWO WHOLE EPISODES IN and we haven’t met Even yet … okay.

HOW I WOULD REWRITE THE EPISODE:

This question is hard because already they need a major overhaul. “Everything” is a copout answer.

So first of all… repetitive as fuck clips. Three clips in two episodes where Noor makes out with Robbe, they almost get sexy, he’s not into it, and then something totally unrelated interrupts the attempt. Even apart from the pointlessness and boredom of watching the same thing happen over and over again … I think you can get away with ONE example of this. ONE example of this scene where random happenstances stop the hetero sex from going down (ha). One example is perfectly fine.

It’s not even just that it’s redundant. It’s also that, so far, it’s random chance stopping Robbe from having sex with a girl. It’s not his own character actions (or his inaction). It’s very passive on his part, which is understandable for someone who is afraid of his true sexuality and is trying to go with the flow. But he cannot hope that his friends walk in, or Jana needs help, or Noor throws up, every fucking time he gets close to having sex with a girl. 

Basically the narrative is contriving to save him. It’s not Robbe making a choice to stop the sex. It’s not even Robbe letting it happen and letting that have some emotional consequences. It’s out of his hands. These clips are both preventing him from making an active choice as a character, while also not letting him deal with the emotional fallout or consequences of sleeping with a girl. And I don’t WANT Robbe to sleep with a girl! But for fuck’s sake, if you keep having this same scene play out, with Robbe not stopping it, and only random interruptions rescuing him … either stop this tedious shit, or let it have an impact on his character already. 

I don’t care about Zoë and Senne’s boring mundane drama taking such precedence in Robbe’s season. If it happens, it should be more relevant and parallel to Robbe’s personal problems! It would make more sense later on when Robbe is struggling with his relationship with Sander.

Here’s an idea to make the retail clip count. We see Robbe getting conflicted about Milan’s gay hookup. Have Robbe go to visit Noor to apologize for getting nervous and running off last night, have him bullshit about wanting to take things slow with her, etc. However, while he’s at the store, he sees, IDK, a hot dude picking out clothes, or a hot dude trying on stuff in the changing room, and he’s into it, you see him get nervous. He checks out the hot male models in the ads. Maybe Noor works with lingerie and we see Robbe looking at all the bras and underwear with this expression of “Am I supposed to be into this?” I think the scene is overall rather redundant and could probably be clipped, but with some tweaks, you can highlight the contrast in Robbe’s attraction to men and his attempts to appear/be into women.

I mentioned this above, but you could also make Jana’s presence in the store matter instead of feeling like something random. She makes small talk with him about him being into Noor, in a way that the audience recall Robbe’s browser history from S1 - we can tell she’s very skeptical of his interest in Noor, and maybe Robbe is trying to appear sincere about being into Noor but it’s not totally convincing. Then when Noor is trying to get hot and heavy with Robbe, Jana intervenes and we can tell it’s because she’s trying to subtly save Robbe.

The Even should be introduced already. Come on. 

I’m not just saying that as an Evak shipper and an Even fan. I am saying that because Even essentially kicks Isak’s arc into motion. He is the catalyst for Isak confronting his sexuality, for reassessing his feelings on mentally ill people, for basically all of his character development. Right now we have two episodes of Robbe treading water, basically. Dating Noor is treading water. It’s fine to show that Robbe is stuck in a rut - we saw that with Isak - but the difference is that something - someone - showed up to get Isak out of that rut pretty early on. It’s not just about wanting the uwu Evak moments, it’s about wanting the narrative to actually start going somewhere, for Robbe’s character to start developing, etc. 

That said, we do need to get to know Even as a character. We need to root for Robbe/Even’s relationship. Delaying that means risking that both the character and the relationship will not feel sufficiently developed.

There’s especially no reason to have this much emphasis on Noor/Robbe, a relationship that is by design meant to be fake, versus Robbe/his Even, a relationship that is meant to be authentic.

Actually, where is the tension? Only from Robbe not wanting to fuck Noor.

There are two plot threads so far that have of any weight for our main character: Robbe’s sexuality, and Robbe’s relationship with his parents. Both of them seem somewhat muddled.

It’s funny because … even many of the smaller things from Skam S3 that caused conflict are absent here?? No Isak vs. Sana and the blackmail over the weed. No kosegruppa causing annoyance to Isak. Conflict is a GOOD THING in storytelling. It provides direction for the narrative, it provides incentive to keep watching. 

So here’s how I would include the Even into this episode, other than simply redoing the OG storyline:

In line with the mystery man from my episode 1 rewrite suggestion, Robbe spends the week wondering about the mystery man. Maybe we see him keeping an eye out for guys he thinks might be The One. Maybe the equivalent of the Talk Show Host scene is Robbe seeing a dude who he thinks is the Even, but it turns out to be a false alarm, and we see his hope and interest followed by his disappointment. We feel this, too! Because we’re wondering when the hell we will see the mystery guy again. Robbe asks Noor oh so casually if she knows any of the tagging people and where to find them. Robbe happens to go to the spot where he thinks the Even might be (like maybe he’s “casually” hanging there or snooping around when he gets the text from his mom, and decides to leave to visit with her). Robbe tries to dig around social media for clues but is frustrated with his lack of information since he’s going on basically nothing. Red herrings galore. Essentially, play with how the original episode 2 showed Isak developing a crush on Even. The point is that Robbe is intrigued and desperately wants to find this guy. I mean, maybe even add a concrete element to this search! Maybe the dude dropped something of his when he and Robbe met (a piece of jewelry, a glove, IDK. Something unique, something that gives us an insight into the Even’s character) and Robbe’s “search” for the dude is on the surface so he can return this item, but obviously it’s not just about that, and we see Robbe treasuring this item and keeping it close or w/e.

Meanwhile, Robbe’s interest in men overall is becoming more evident, in how he reacts to Milan and his hookup, or maybe checking out dudes at Noor’s store. When he shows up at her workplace, it’s so he can casually ask about people she knows from the tagging scene, and oh, does she recognize this glove? This gives him a motive to meet up with her besides just wanting to make out, and he’s uncomfortable when the meeting takes that turn.

And then … he’s SUPPOSED to go to the seaside on Friday, but instead Robbe just happens to run into the mystery man! His Even! Butterflies! He returns the item to Even and the Even is happy he got it back (and maybe far down the line we’ll learn that the Even left it behind on purpose, kinda like how Even was interested in Isak all along. Those Evens, so crafty.) And Robbe lies about being sick or something and skips on the trip, and hangs out with Even, and we get a scene similar to the OG where they bond and get to know each other, but obviously not word for word, centered around their own personalities. He’s having a great time, but then it turns out that the Even has a girlfriend, obviously. Everyone else is pissed that Robbe ditched them. You know how it goes. It doesn’t have to be an exact mirror of this S2 clip, but I do strongly think we need to advance this part of the storyline by this point.

Jumping forward in time: I know that Robbe meets his Even at the seaside, so you could also just, you know. Bounce that up a bit. Work in all the other ~mystery stuff and maybe Robbe is feeling disheartened and accepting that he’s just not gonna see that guy again, he goes to the seaside as planned. But holy shit, he arrives and That Guy is there! Just when he thought all hope was lost!

Imagine if the Even had left behind, like, a scarf, and Robbe started to wear it, and he was wearing it at the seaside when they meet again. Juicy stuff.

Add more reactions from Robbe toward Milan and his date. Sometimes he’s chill about gay stuff and sometimes he’s a little more hesitant. It feels very inconsistent. There are big opportunities to show Robbe’s issues with his sexuality but the show is sliding right by them.

This is more thinking ahead, but the boys’ YouTube channel should ideally play some part in Robbe’s coming out journey. (And no, I don’t count that shitty Milan prank clip as a payoff for the boys’ YouTube channel, fuck that.) I’m not sure, what, exactly - I don’t think Robbe is the type of guy to post a coming out video and it doesn’t seem like it’d be a fit for their channel. Maybe just use the channel as a way to indicate Robbe’s comfort with being publicly in a relationship with a boy. Like at an earlier part of the season, the squad is going to do some prank and Sander is like, haha, sounds fun, can I join? And Robbe tries to keep Sander away, by making an excuse or telling the boys that he doesn’t want Sander involved, because it’s implied that he’s scared of people realizing that he and Sander have a Thing. Then later on, after Robbe comes out to everyone and is openly in a relationship with Sander, there’s a video about something else but he and Sander are casually cuddling in the background or whatever.

My big problems are the lack of focus and the bad pacing. Skam S3 has a clear mission statement, a goal. There’s an endgame in mind and each clip takes a step toward that endgame. Julie Andem knew Isak’s character arc and each clip advances a part of his journey. wtFOCK so far doesn’t seem to know what to do with Robbe. Or rather, they have like two ideas - Robbe doesn’t want to fuck Noor and Robbe is sad about his mom - but no clue about how to use those ideas to advance the story, and they seem to be dawdling instead of making the most out of a finite amount of screen time.

#wtfock reactions

[nrth-wind-a]

SO. I... don’t have an excuse; I was exploring the rough patch of the Fashion AU at the time of doing this meme and uh. The ending of this spawned. I consider everything up until the kiss ‘canon’ for the AU. The kiss is... purely because this meme was still on the brain lol

Accompanying Playlist --

"...congratu-fucking-lations." Bellroc's voice was low, as they glared at the sketch they'd been working on.

Some of the lines had nearly pushed through the paper. 

Skrael glanced over to them, the smile previously on his face sliding off. He knew this was going to happen. He knew it.

So why did it still hit so hard?

 "...excuse me?" He fought to keep his voice steady. 

Bellroc's grip on their pencil tightened when Nari slipped from the room. 

Skrael followed their eyes, getting distracted for just a moment, stomach sinking when he noticed Nari's absence. She'd been doing that lately, whenever they seemed like they were about to have it out once more. 

Skrael turned back to face Bellroc-- there was little he could do to stop Nari, and he’d never subject her to even more of this than she’d already had to handle-- raising his chin in defiance. "Why aren't you happy for me? I just broke one of the best deals any one of us has ever gotten. I mean, maybe I’m wrong, but this is our dream, isn't it? To get into the big leagues? This is our chance to do that, Bells." 

Bellroc's eyes were a viper's. "Okay.” They set their pencil down, but did not stand up. “First of all, Starr Occult is barely above Hot Topic, and you know it. That’s hardly big leagues-- it’s not even a high-end department store. So what-the-fuck-ever; big fucking deal, Skrael. They growled. “And secondly, it’s not even a deal for all three of us. I thought we were supposed to do this together.”

Skrael scoffed. “And we will. But we have to have some kind of in, first, and if this has to be it, then, I don’t see why not. Besides, they didn’t say I couldn’t get help from you two.”

“But they didn’t say you could, either, did they?” Bellroc stared into his eyes, lip curling. “In fact, I wouldn’t be shocked to hear that you didn’t even think to ask, did you?”

Skrael went silent. 

It wasn’t that he’d intended not to ask… it had just happened so quickly…

“I-” Skrael huffed. “I didn’t need to. They know we’re a package deal; we’ve never hid that.”

“And yet, I am quite certain mine and Nari’s names are not on the contract, Skrael.”

“That… that doesn’t have to mean--”

“Yes it does, Skrael! We can help you all day, but Nari and I don’t get to see a single ounce of credit for our work if we do! Not to mention the royalties, and god, I don’t even care about that, but you know we would get nothing!” They noticed him open his mouth, but held up their hand to stop him. “Don’t you dare. I’m sure you’d share it with the rest of us, because every dime any of us makes goes to keeping this car crash going-- I am plenty aware. It isn’t about the money, Skrael-- hell, it isn’t even about the deal. I need you to listen to me; the problem is that you did this without us.” They couldn’t quite clear all of the pain in their voice, and they wanted to scream, yell, be loud, because he wasn’t supposed to know they were hurt; he was supposed to know they were angry. 

But they could barely even feel a hint of the flame. Instead, they felt the way the Titanic must have. 

“You did it without us, even though a decision this big should be something we all talk about first. What ever happened to talking, Skrael?”

Skrael had clenched his jaw, his fists, against the avalanche on his tongue. “I just wanted to advance our careers, Bells… it’s one deal. It’s not even that big. Nine pieces, total. Three pants, three skirts, three shirts. Straightforward. It should have been easy.” 

Bellroc gave a haughty laugh, “Easy. As if anything is easy these days. Things haven’t been easy for us in weeks, and you know it.” They paused there, to see if he’d say something. They almost wanted him to. They wanted him to fuel their rage; they wanted him to retort, and they wanted to rebut it, and they wanted so badly for him to strike that match, grate against them, push back, cry out.

But Skrael didn’t say a word. 

They almost got what they wanted, though, as his cold stare locked onto their heated one, and ah, it wasn’t nearly enough, and that, too, irritated them-- how could he just stand there like that? While they were twisting, curling, crackling-- so they took the opportunity he presented them anyway, even if it wasn’t the one they’d silently begged him for, and continued.

“Did you really think that this was okay, Skrael?” They glared.

Skrael’s shoulders went visibly tenser, and-- a vicious delight ran through them, seeing that-- he finally broke. “I’m sorry; did I think giving us a leg up in our careers-- our dreams, Bellroc-- was okay? How fucking dare you. Of course I thought giving us an in to the professional world was acceptable! Since when did I have to clear everything with you? I didn’t know we were a hivemind, Bellroc; I didn’t know I had to go and get a permission slip to do my job.” 

Bellroc bristled, and finally stood up. One, two, three long strides, and then they were crowding Skrael’s personal space, “Your job is not to do ours for us-”

“-then maybe you should make more contacts in the industry! At least I’ve gotten a deal at all!” Skrael spat, resisting the urge to step backward.

“Oh, yes, I see; because it’s my fault a second-rate retailer with shitty fabric and bad stitching hasn’t picked me out for mass consumption to idiot teenagers who don’t know the difference between cotton and polyester. Wow, I feel so bad, Skrael; really! I’m just aching for Wal-Mart to set their sights on me! You piece of shit. You got lucky that they’re still looking for clothes that thirteen year olds wear to pretend they’re being rebellious. As if a paper-thin graphic tee makes you Alexander fucking McQueen, Skrael! This deal is stupid, and you know it. What happened to not selling out? To a mass retailer, Skrael? A chain?”

Skrael couldn’t resist a humorless, shocked laugh, “Are you kidding me? You’re really going to act like you’re gonna suddenly get asked to collab with Westwood on your first fucking try? We have to start somewhere, Bellroc!”

“I know that, Skrael! I just thought that maybe-” they cut themself off, looking to the side, shutting their eyes. They took a steadying breath… then leveled him with a mercilessly disappointed glare. “Well. You know what I thought.” 

The air stilled for half a second. 

And then Skrael rolled his eyes. 

“I never said we aren’t going to do this together, Bellroc. You are wildly overexaggerating.”

Ah… there was the strike. 

They accepted it in stride, lighting up. “Oh…” They growled. “Fuck you, Skrael. If that’s how you want to do this, fine. I’m just delighted to oblige! Fuck you and your stupid fucking deal-- I hope you have so much fun with your brand new, shiny contract, and all the assholes who come with it. And you know what? Don’t even bother asking for my help. This is your deal, remember? So take it, cherish it, and then shove it up your ass.” They slung their words at him like blows, before whirling to collect their coat and their backpack, stopping just before the door to hiss, “Don’t fucking show your face here tomorrow.”

The door was on its way to being slammed, but Skrael managed to catch it, as he followed on Bellroc’s heels, out into the rain. “You cannot tell me not to come in-- you don’t have that right! You don’t have the authority.”

Bellroc spun on their heels to face him. “Like hell I do! I’m not telling you that as a business partner, Skrael; I’m telling you that as a--” don’t say friend, “...a co-worker. If you show your goddamn face tomorrow, Skrael, I will make you regret it.”

Skrael looked unbothered, “What are you gonna do, get in a fistfight with me? Duel me at sundown? Please. Avoid the empty threats, Bellroc; they’re not a good look on you.” 

Bellroc made a hateful noise. “Do you want me to? Because if you keep fucking pushing me, I just might.” With how wired they felt, they almost, almost, wanted to… but Skrael was-- unfortunately-- right. Their words were empty.

Still… when Skrael had the audacity to start laughing, it was much easier to see the appeal. 

“You would never.” He managed between laughs, and god, they just wanted him to shut up; between his laughter, the rain, the blood rushing in their ears, the bonfire in their chest--

Something had to give.

As if they were watching from outside of their own body, they reached up, clapped their hands onto the sides of Skrael’s face, and he looked so stupidly beautiful in the rain, in the street lights, and they weren’t even sure what they were doing, but they were leaning in, suddenly, and it felt like a fever, it felt fake, it felt--

It wasn’t a nice kiss. 

They were too angry for that.

Instead, it was vicious, and too hard, and mean, and Skrael wasn’t moving, except-- was that bite from them or him? They couldn’t even tell. So they stepped closer, making him crane his neck, and he should have pulled away then, but he didn’t, so they didn’t, and neither of them understood what was happening, and--

The kiss wasn’t supposed to be good. 

It wasn’t supposed to light yet more of their insides ablaze. 

But it did. 

And they hated it. 

And they loved it. 

Eventually, they pulled back, slow, full of hesitation and something that wasn’t regret, but felt like it.

Bellroc cut Skrael off before he could ask.

“Shut. Up.” They said, tone dangerous, before they let him go and stormed to their car. 

The apartment was a graveyard that night.

#oh boy #our first look at some of the issues they were having #this is not THE fight though #but it is one of many they'd have been having back then #fashionista how do you look? - rival designers au

[spoonhacks]

My Fibro Journey and How I Came Back from Rock Bottom

This not advice. But this is a true story, and it’s time I shared my Fibro journey. I was diagnosed with Fibromyalgia just as college was ending. This is not to say it began then, but it came to head enough to finally get an answer. This came about a year and a half after my Interstitial Cystitis diagnosis, and I was in BAD shape. I was 90 lbs, deteriorating, and everything winded me. The pain was constant and completely overwhelming. I had thrown every last drop of my energy into finishing my college thesis and graduating from a school I had worked SO hard at. When it finally commenced, I felt lost. I was depleted from the effort and it was 2011 and the economy was in shambles. Having nowhere else to go, I moved into my dad’s spare room in Massachusetts, miles away from the state I had always called home, my precious Florida warmth, and the love of my life. I was, unsurprisingly, miserable, and my health tanked immediately. I was cold all the time. No amount of blankets helped because I wasn’t generating my own heat. I remember spending Thanksgiving eve in the emergency room because an Interstitial Cystitis flare had caused a UTI to back up and give me yet another kidney infection and I had a soaring fever. Things were toxic with my dad. His cure for everything is to get up at 6am and be busy busy busy and I was in desperate need of rest. When it became obvious to me finding a job was not happening, I started an Etsy shop for my crafts with the limited energy I had. It pulled in maybe $200 a month but it felt good to be doing one small thing. A few months later the love of my life arranged to follow me to New England and secured a place for us in the apartment above his father’s house. We were together again but things were tense, his dad is occasionally a monster, and it wasn’t long before we were moving again. My health was awful and we were broke as a joke. I was sleeping 12 hours a day and spending the rest of my time trying to figure out what kind of life I was going to be able to have. I was severely depressed. We moved to an absolute shit-hole of a apartment in a bad neighborhood. Rent was $850/month for 280 square feet. We could barely afford it, and mostly lived off of my partner’s disability check and food stamps. My small savings was gone. We fought about money a lot. The Etsy shop brought in maybe $300 now, but it was clear this was not going to cover everything for a long time, if ever. My health only continued to decline and I felt utterly useless. Some days I was too sore to even get out of bed. The stress was unbearable as I watched everything in my life spiral. I honestly felt like if something didn’t change and soon, I was going to die. I thought back to the last thing I’d done right: my college thesis at art school. It took me forever to choose what medium to do the project in as there were a few I’d been practicing proficiently. I kept asking myself: “What am I the best at? What am I the best at?” and got nowhere. Finally I asked myself “What am I the worst at? What medium am I absolutely shit at that I would love to do but never learned how?” And the answer was pen and ink. A few months later I graduated with a pen and ink portfolio with one of two A’s in my professor’s senior class. So here I was, applying to design jobs and retail jobs and anything else I thought I might be good at with 0 responses for months on end. Then, instead, I asked myself what I was the worst at-- manual labor! After all, grocery shopping would knock me out until the next day. I realized this was insane to even consider and I might literally die. But I was so low it didn’t matter. If I continued wasting away like this I was going to die anyway. I knew this in my heart. Having cared for horses as a kid I started applying for barn jobs in the area. I remember straightening myself up and forcing myself to look energetic and animated for the interviews. I finally got a job. I was terrible at it. Shoveling for hours and pushing around a 300lb wheelbarrow, imagine! I could not lift a hay bale (they are about 65 lbs). But, I got up at 4:45 in the morning and drove to work in the snow before the plows came and always got to work on time. I worked only weekend days and by Sunday night I would have to make sure there was a crockpot meal going because I knew I would collapse at the end of the day. I cried in the car on the way home every single shift. My body was on fire. Mondays I could not get out of bed. The pain was immeasurable and I spent most of the day crying and had my partner help me to the bathroom. I spent the whole week recovering and patching myself up enough to get to my next shift on Saturday. But I promised myself something: that I would never complain, not to anyone at work, and not even to myself in my head. I imagined myself as a monk. Chop wood, carry water. I got fired. Then I got another barn job and got fired. Then I got another one and got fired again. The 4th job was still hard, but I did not get fired. I could now lift the hay bales. I gained 20 lbs (entirely muscle) and my body was completely different. Instead of being carried to the bathroom on Monday, I could transport myself to the couch and do basic self-care activities. I could do my crafts during the week again and between the two income streams I could afford my half of living expenses and was very slowly socking away a tiny, tiny nest egg that would eventually become the start up capital for my business. Two years had passed since mucking my first stall. My Fibro was not cured by any means but my IC was somewhat in remission and I was doing much better. Daily life got easier. After all, compared to hay bales, lifting the pasta pot while making dinner was less of a big deal. I eventually left the barn job and got a job doing landscaping and construction-- more manual labor! My new boss was disabled too and used a walker on the job site. He was also a Buddha in a blue collar. After having kept my illness a secret for 2 years of barn jobs I could finally tell a boss the truth and it was a relief. He understood me and always gave me the jobs I could flourish at.  I learned a lot from him, did legitimately good work, made slightly better money, and moved out of the shit-hole apartment to an art community, which was an important step forward on the path toward opening my own business and doing art full time. During the second year of running my shop I realized I didn’t need a second job anymore and that it would be the first year in the last 5 where I wouldn’t have to dig any holes.

I’d risked it all, every last drop of my health. It could have killed me. And the agony was indescribable, but I would do it again. My body is changed forever and even years since I have last worked manual labor I am still improved for it and much more active than I was in those dark years right after college. Everything I have now I owe to that one, insane decision I made at rock bottom. This is not advice. Take what you will from my story. I still despise people who say “exercise will cure Fibro if you just tried harder :) :) :)” or some stupid shit like that. None of them know how dangerous this was or how much suffering I endured. It could have easily gone the other way. There were days my partner saw the condition I was in and begged me to stop. I told him with a roar in my voice if I didn’t keep going I was going to die. I don’t regret it. I have less pain now, consistently, than I did before I went through all that and I still try to keep up my fitness level so I never go back there. Thank you for reading my story. I can’t recommend my path, but if you come away with one thing from this, just know that there is a path forward, somewhere, and perhaps in the most unlikely of places.

#fibromyalgia #chronic pain #personal #chronically ill #disabled