Kinda funny how I actually enjoyed cataloging when I was working in a library, but now that I'm taking a class on cataloging my brain has started shutting down at the very mention of the word ...

Lean on Me -Amphibia Oneshot

'Sometimes in our lives, we all have pain, we all have sorrow, but if we're wise we know that there's always tomorrow.'

*Following the ending of 'Marcy At The Gates'*

Because I just wanted to write Anne and Marcy being cute without, y'know, dying for once. My first Amphibia fic so no, it's not that good, but well, I tried. Here ya' go @milkshakekitty ❤️

––

Anne smiled warmly as she clutched onto Marcy’s hand as they swiped through the pictures, she had to catch her up with all the adventures they had in Amphibia without wasting any time. “Here’s me and Sprig by the lake. There was a snake that tried to eat us.” Anne commented. “Oh, oh, and here’s us running from a centipede that-”

“Let me guess, tried to eat you?”

Anne gasped, mouth agape in astonishment. “How did you know?”

Marcy giggled to herself. “Duh. This is Amphibia. What do you expect?” they swipe through some more pictures. “Wow, Anne. You and Sprig really seem really close, huh.” Anne blushed, twirling a strand of her hair in her finger.

“You could say. He’s…kinda the reason I've really been able to keep going, especially ever since separating with you guys, life’s been hard.” Anne admitted. “Feels like yesterday when I was absolutely freaked out was when I found myself stranded in the woods of Wartwood all alone. I’m gonna be honest with you, Mar-Mar, eating bugs ain't my favorite thing ever, or fighting tax toads…and stuff but I’ve come to think I’ve somewhat grown on this place and it’s because of Sprig and the Plantars.”

Marcy joyful smirk couldn’t help but fade slightly at the sound of all the things Anne had been through. “Yeah, I…can't disagree with that.” She muttered, looking away and pulling a strand of her hair behind her ear. “The Plantars really are sweet. And the little frog dude? He seems quite protective of you, no wonder you mean a lot to him.”

“Uh, yeah. I’m sorry for all the…suspicion Sprig had on you earlier. I told him it was kinda uncalled-for, but a lot of stuff has happened and…”

“Oh please. I don’t mind at all. Believe me, I’ve seen a lot worse phases of skepticism in several rural civilizations I visited. Your friend seems a lot more open.”

Anne frowned, could she really blame Sprig though? Her other friend had almost killed him, and initially Hop Pop too. It just felt a bit uneasy having to tell Marcy that he had thought she was gonna be the same, what would she think? She didn't want Marcy to also hate her best friend like the other one did. Anne vaguely swiped through another picture on her phone, and what came up was her other friend. Anne’s didn't acknowledge herself holding her breath and frown at the sight of the blond girl on her phone screen.

“No way! Is that when you and Sasha reunited?” Marcy exclaimed with excitement, pushing her face between Anne and the phone screen, the picture of Anne and Sasha smiling and posing at the camera. “Heh, the armor suits her. Is that a Toad army uniform? She looks so different.” Anne rolled her eyes.

“She does.” Anne shoved the phone back into her pocket and stood up, looking into the distance, clutching the tip of her sleeve. “Literally. She’s changed.” Marcy, with a look of uncertainty, approached her.

“You said you had you had a fight, didn't you? But see, Anne…you know Sasha, we’ve known each other since we were kids, that’s the way she’s always been. Sure, she’s got a bit of temper, but I’m sure she’s still our friend. No matter what.”

‘She’s our friend. No matter what she does.’ The words echoed in her mind. ‘Nothing can change that.’That’s the one thing that had kept Anne bounded all these years. She was so busy making sure Sasha got away with all the trouble she was too blind to figured it out whatever she was doing with them was anything but friendship. All for they just couldn’t risk her somehow not wanting to be their friend anymore, for that would be the end of it all.

Wouldn’t it?

“She tried to kill my family, Marbles.” Anne’s tone cracked. Marcy’s eyes wide opened, stunned.

“She what? No way,”

Anne sniffed. “She tried to hurt Sprig, and Hop Pop. She’s far from justified. It’s too late, it’s time she takes responsibility of her actions. She’s way past treating us like we need her to make our decisions for us. Acting like…she can do whatever she wants because we just can't risk losing her because she convinced us that we’re NOTHING without her.” She panted, her face going red in exhaustion. Marcy stared silently at her friend with wide eyes. Anne breathed out and smiled warmly, looking into her eyes. “Well, we’re not. You and I are here, without her, doing just fine. The Plantars helped me make my way here to find you, we don’t need her to lead us. Dang, look how far you’ve come, Mar-Mar, you’re the literal hero of Newtopia and all, you bet Sasha would’ve never guessed that to come from the School’s science nerd, am I right?”

“Aw, quit it, Anna-Banana.” Marcy punched her playfully with a blush. Anne rubbed her arm and elbowed her with a smile. “How about we go for a walk? Bet that’d help. I know the perfect spot, c’mon, Anne!” Anne had barely processed anything Marcy had said yet before she was grasped by the arm and yanked along by her. After a moment of blindly letting herself be hauled along, when Marcy finally stopped Anne was marveled at the scene before her. What they stood upon was a hill, from where all of Newtopia could be seen. “Whoa.” Was all Anne could say, “That…sure is something, dude.”

“I know, RIGHT?! This is the most fun spot of the city next to the library, check this out!” Without a warning, Marcy hopped off her feet and let herself roll down the shimmering cool grass. “Anne, look I’m a Springroll!” Anne couldn’t help but chuckle at this until she noticed that Marcy was going to rolled herself right into a giant rock.

“Rock! Marcy, rock!” She shouted.

“I know! I rock at this!”

“NO! Marcy, look out!” Anne didn't acknowledge herself diving down and grabbing the girl before she’d crash herself. Anne panted heavily, holding her close. Marcy grinned.

“Heh, I get carried away sometimes. Thanks, Anna-Banana.” Anne sighed deeply and got to her feet, dusting herself.

“Sometimes. Pfft, sure. You can do me a great favor by being careful for five minutes for frog’s sake.” She retorted. Marcy blinked, wondering if she wasn’t being a help. Nah, there was no way for that to be, she knew how to cheer up her friend. Just as Anne began walking away, Marcy grabbed her hand and pulled her down. “Marbles, what are you…? AAAA-” she screamed as the two rolled further down the hill. “MARCY!”

“Isn't this cool?!” Marcy laughed as she gripped on her tight. When they stopped, Anne held her spinning head.

“Dude, what the frog?!” She complained, rubbing her head as Marcy continued to grin. “That was insane.”

“Insane and fun!”

“Pfft, yeah.” Anne couldn’t help but chuckle, slightly punching her shoulder. “Don’t do that again.” She looked up at the sky full of stars, sighing to herself. Funny how it was only her and Marcy now, without Sasha telling them what to do, just like back in…kindergarten? Well, that was quite long ago.

And surprisingly for all, she was actually feeling…good? It was true she always felt a lot liberated around her. As Anne had described to Sprig earlier, Marcy was indeed harmless. It was almost astonishing how she was totally living the moment and barely seemed concerned about everything that had been going on. How long they had been away from their parents, and haven’t seen each other in months until now, how Sasha tried to kill her family…

She couldn’t keep herself from remembering the tearful look in the girl’s eyes during their last encounter. ‘Hey, Anne?’ The last words from Sasha echoed in her mind again. ‘Maybe you’re better off without me.’ And in a blink of an eye, feeling her hold on Sasha’s hand loosening and having to see her former friend nearly fell to her doom.

Anne shook her head. No, that wasn’t her fault. There was no way it being her fault that Sasha rejected the help, rejected her, something she had always been afraid of. But somethings were inevitable, and in the end they were alright, she was okay and Sasha had…other people to stand by her, to follow her lead rather gladly.

Her thoughts were interrupted when Marcy spoke up, who was relaxing down on the grass.

“I often like coming out here to read. It actually feels pretty great out here, heh. Andrias prefer to join me sometimes, we had SO much fun together. Gosh, I LOVE this place!” She lied on her back, whirling her arms and legs, and enjoying the feel of the soft grass beneath them. She suddenly gasped and sat back up, eyes shining and a dreamy look on her face. “Y’know what I just came up with? What if…we made a hideout here? Brilliant idea. If we use the correct type of wood according to the air moisture, but wait we also need to bug-proof this place, we could try-” She stopped when we noticed Anne zoned out. “You okay there?”

“Huh? Yeah, and yeah we should totally do that.” Anne said, sitting down beside her, one arm wrapped around herself.

“Are ya’ cold?” Marcy asked with concern.

“Huh, no, it’s not that. I’m just-”

“Aw shucks! I should’ve known it! You always get a cold out in the night. Here, have this before you go all sneezy.” Marcy proceeded to take off her cape.

“No, Mar-Mar, really, I’m-” Anne was interrupted by her own sneeze. “…fine.”

“You’re not, Sneezy.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Heh. You know? It could be a sign someone is thinking about you.” Marcy smirked, tapping her chin.

“Yes, I know that, Marcy.” Anne replied, flushed and rubbing her itchy nose. “But I think I’m just cold.”

Marcy shrugged. “Eh, anyway. Here, you can have this. Don’t worry, it’s not on fire…yet.” she joked as she wrapped the cape around her shoulder. “Remember when we used to go to the café after classes, you always ordered hot chocolate while me and Sasha went for soda. Even then, you get sneezy. You always have it colder than us.” Anne blushed as she curled up.

“Thanks, Marcy.”

“About Sash, Anne, all of that sounds real rough, hard to believe actually, I never thought she’d…go that far.” She sounded much disappointed by the finish.

Anne sneezed again. “I’m not even surprised at this point. She’s always been a jerk, we were just too blind to notice.”

Marcy leaned back, fiddling the tip of her toes. “I…kinda always thought she was like the protector of the group, and that she’d always look out for us.”

“She likes to show me that I’m the weakling,” Anne’s voice cracked. “So that she’d feel better about herself. That’s why she tried to kill Sprig, he has been the first to make me realize that I was friends with a jerk. I guess that’s it, all she cares to have is control.”

Marcy’s eyes moved back and forth for a moment before she gently placed a hand on Anne’s shoulder who just sat there, hugging her knees. She felt a bit guilty about the fact that despite always being there, she had never been the one to realize what Anne had been going through, that Sasha was basically pushing her around. Maybe if she even did, there wasn’t much she could do to change it.

“Hey, you ain't a weakling to me. Pfft- Yeah sure, Sasha always liked to show off her strength, I rolled with it because it seemed like the only thing she was ever into. But hey, you know how much you look out for me.” She lifted Anne’s chin. “Even back in that cave today? You looked out for me. My point is, you’re so much more than you think, Anne. We might need her on our way back home, we aren’t gonna leave her behind. But whether or not she is there, you know you matter so much to everyone. You’ve got me, you’ve got the Plantars, and Sprig; it’s gonna be okay.”

Anne wiped her watery eyes with a smile, Marcy blinked as Anne embraced her into a hug, she smiled and hugged back. There was a moment of silence between them while they hugged until suddenly, Marcy sneezed.

“Huh, wonder who’s thinking about me?” She remarked, wiping her nose.

“Perhaps the librarian back home, for all the books you didn't return.” Anne commented sarcastically. Marcy narrowed her eyes and elbowed her. Anne shook it off with a chuckle and wrapped the other end of the cape around Marcy’s shoulder. “There. Now you won't get all sneezy either.” Marcy rolled her eyes with a smile. Anne leaned her head against hers, staring up at the stary sky, spotting a shooting star passing by.

“I don’t ever want to lose you again, Mar-Mar.”

“Me neither.”

if u ever wanna dump an essay about edward fairfax rochester to me...I’m here!

Ahh, you must know how dangerous such an invitation is to an enthusiast! It’s a rainy Sunday evening, I’ve poured myself a glass of wine, and I’m ready to do this. I think Charlotte Brontë is doing and exploring some really interesting things in the character of Rochester, which sometimes get flattened/left out in adaptations. To be fair to the adaptations: he’s still compelling as a Brooding Gothic Protagonist.™

Prolegomenon I: I haven’t read the scholarship on Jane Eyre since undergrad, and I haven’t read The Wide Sargasso Sea since graduate school. I make no claims to particular originality here. And of course, literature can and does hold multiple meanings, etc. etc.; this is my take on Edward Fairfax “Self-Delusion” Rochester. The subfields of Jane Eyre criticism I’m most familiar with/informed by are “Jane Eyre + feminist theory” and “Jane Eyre + ‘early 19th-century debates within Anglicanism, pretty wild, right?’” This should surprise exactly no one who follows this blog.

Prolegomenon II: when I get caught up in my Rochester Feelings in conversation, there is inevitably a point where one of my English-major or -professor friends will shout me down and say “He kept a WIFE in the ATTIC” and I know. I know. It’s inexcusable and I’m not trying to excuse it, and everyone should read Jean Rhys. What I am really interested in doing, though, is exploring Rochester as three-dimensional character, not “man whose bad behavior gets hand-waved aside because reasons.”

First off: Rochester is a man of contradictions. He is a man who is generous to his retainers and his tenants. He is a man who shoulders even social responsibilities that are not strictly his, as we see in the education of Adèle (who might otherwise have died in an uncharitable charitable institution, or become a laundress, or become a courtesan.) True, we meet him as an extremely awkward and fumbling and sometimes resentful figure in loco parentis. But he is trying. I think this is perhaps the key thing about Rochester: what we see him doing for most of the novel, almost always badly, is trying to achieve better (more just, more humane, more equitable) results within a system (patriarchal, economic, colonial) that is rotten at its core. It is not everyone who has the moral fiber of a Jane Eyre, to say “this system is rotten at its core and it is better to starve on the moors or live forever unhappy than to be complicit in it.” The second thing we see Rochester doing, almost always badly, and this is where the contradiction comes in, is trying to avoid his own pain. I’ve intentionally said pain rather than guilt. I think that gets closer to the heart of the matter.

I’m going to get back to my essay in a minute, but an interjection of sorts, before I put the rest of it under a cut: I think it is vital to the novel that Rochester genuinely changes. Justification of this argument and More Emotions below.

For contemporary readers, the concept of repentance as a process may feel unfamiliar, trite, irreversibly sullied by hypocrites. But even if we take it out of Brontë’s extremely Anglican framework, I read Rochester’s profound, unconditional acceptance of his own sin (wrong, if you prefer) against Bertha and the losses which he sees as divine punishment for it as absolutely key to his having a chance at a future with Jane. The concept of divine retribution is surely stranger to us even than that of repentance, but having Thornfield, Rochester’s inheritance, sign and symbol and engine of his patriarchal wealth, built on colonial exploitation, literally go up in flames like the wicked cities of the Old Testament, is Not Exactly Subtle. And, of course, he loses his sight: “If thine eye offend thee, pluck it out.” His sight has been, in the most fundamental spiritual sense, diseased. He has been incapable of accurately seeing his own guilt (which is to say, seeing it in proportion to all other things, the other facts of Bertha’s madness, the duplicity of his family and that of the Masons, etc. etc.) So he loses his sight. And then he gains a much richer understanding of, well, everything. Gradually. Not all at once. I have Feelings about the psychological realism of those final chapters, but let me rewind, as it were. [N.B. I’m not arguing that Charlotte Brontë presents all this as a straightforward Divine Smiting. It matters that Bertha gets the freedom to bring all this crashing down (literally), and that she chooses her own end. But I do think that Rochester reads it as Smiting; I think we need to take that final assertion of his seriously. It’s entirely possible to read the Elm Tree Incident, and indeed that bizarre wedding morning, as Rochester waiting, waiting with pounding heart, for the bolt of lightning.]

I believe passionately in Rochester and Jane as a couple for a number of reasons (so many reasons, all the reasons), but perhaps chief among them is that they are both, bless them, raging romantics who have had very little outlet for their rich emotional life or for their unconventional, erudite, intelligent, exploratory spiritualities. OR (sorry, I forgot one) for their intellectual life, come to that! Rochester with his library full of science and his feelings about moths and Jane who becomes a teacher and genuinely loves nurturing young minds. *sobs* I love them so much. But Rochester is far too ready to manipulate others as he has been manipulated, and as others seek to manipulate him. His treatment of Blanche Ingram, for instance, I read as being several things, in shifting proportion 1) an effort to distract himself from Jane; he has few if any scruples about involving the unscrupulous and mercenary Miss Ingram in bigamy 2) an effort to distract the neighborhood and its gossip from Jane; why, after all, has he been at Thornfield so long without entertaining anyone?? very suspicious 3) an effort to find out what Jane’s feelings for him are. We see her ready to sting him into jealousy at the end too, a nice little bit of symmetry. Rochester is, yes, high-handed in the extreme. But I read the conversation under the elm tree not as a cynical test, but a genuine and painfully awkward attempt to figure out what Jane’s feelings for him really are. Yes, they’ve been having High Spiritual Communion and intellectual discussions and mutual teasing and borderline flirting for however many weeks it’s been. But also: he’s her employer. He’s at least 15 years older than she is (I forget the details on this. 15? 20? anyway, point stands.) He is not and never has been handsome, and he knows exactly how little his wealth counts for with Jane. He’s deeply weird and his house is weird and he comes with a French ward and a mysterious attic and a wife. But does she love him anyway? She does! *cries about it* 

Of course, none of this excuses the inexcusable. The proposal-to-wedding sequence shows us Rochester at his moral nadir, in relation to both Bertha and Jane. It also shows him on the knife edge of losing control over his integrity in other ways, now that he has violated this one. (Remember when Jane comes back to Thornfield and says “Reader, I had feared worse; I had feared he was mad”? Yeah, there’s a reason for that.) Anyway, allow me to present excerpts from Chapter 27, which lives in paraphrase in my head at all times:

[W]hile he spoke my very conscience and reason turned traitors against me, and charged me with crime in resisting him. They spoke almost as loud as Feeling: and that clamoured wildly. "Oh, comply!" it said. "Think of his misery; think of his danger—look at his state when left alone; remember his headlong nature; consider the recklessness following on despair—soothe him; save him; love him; tell him you love him and will be his. 

Whew! Anyway, she decides not to despite the fact that she and Rochester feel exactly the same way in this moment:

I am insane—quite insane: with my veins running fire, and my heart beating faster than I can count its throbs. Preconceived opinions, foregone determinations, are all I have at this hour to stand by: there I plant my foot.

*sobs harder* I think it is vitally important to point out that Jane is not cold or even, in this moment, convinced by her own arguments. She and Rochester are, moments after this, in each other’s arms, the language of fire and flame used for them both, and Rochester releases her first because he wants her influenced by nothing but her own will; not their shared passion, and certainly not his own force.

...Where was I before I got caught up with the unbearable sexual and emotional tension? Oh yes, Rochester after Jane leaves. He embraces an extremely thorough program of self-punishment. The most obvious course of action for him -- the one that Jane, the person who knows him best in all the world, assumes he has taken -- is to run away from his pain again, to leave England. He does not do that. He does the opposite of that. He refuses to so much as leave Thornfield itself except to roam the grounds at night. I love this book so much.  Then, after the fire, which happens only 2 months after Jane leaves, he goes to Ferndean. Now! The only thing we have learned about Ferndean previously is that Rochester refused to have Bertha live there because its bad climate would have (or at least might have) killed her. We learn from Jane-as-narrator that literally no one will rent it, again, because of its “ineligible and insalubrious site.” Rochester has, with heartbreaking obviousness, given up on life. He has, by his own account, been “doing nothing, expecting nothing,” in “ceaseless sorrow... [and] delirium of desire.”

 ...Edward Fairfax Rochester has never heard of chill. Also, as we learn, though he is worried about his disabilities because he is worried that Jane will mind, and because they make him a less eligible potential husband in his own estimation (*sniffle*), what he has been chiefly preoccupied with for the last year is worrying about where Jane is and if she’s all right. Again: the man has never heard of chill. But his impulses are generous. He is the heir to a rotten and a poisoned inheritance, and he begins by blaming this inheritance -- his external circumstances, both his privilege and the choices that he is pushed into by his father and brother -- for his own injuries and the ways in which he has injured others. But I (obviously) vigorously cling to the belief that he genuinely turns away from this, that he confronts his own sins and repents and accepts that he will not, cannot, be reunited with Jane in this life. But then he is. *cries about it* Moreover, in a key reorientation from his earlier avoidance-and-denial coping strategy, he accepts Jane’s services “without painful shame or damping humiliation.” He un-hermits himself! He and Jane travel to see friends and family! They receive visitors! These romantic-hearted science nerds proceed to be shockingly normal... for their own given value of that. I’m also convinced that they have the kinkiest sex in nineteenth-century English literature, and I support them. And part of their happiness is the happiness of others; it’s the opposite of Rochester’s globe-trotting, radically individualistic conduct in the first part of the novel. Of course it’s more than he deserves; he knows that, and he needs to know it. But it’s narratively elegant, and (I think) deeply satisfying. And I love it. And, obviously, him... again, more than he deserves.

𖦹BACK BY UNPOPULAR DEMAND, ME!!! ON TODAYS EPISODE OF "WHAT TF DID DUMB-LITTLE-IDIOT WROTE TODAY" IS:

𖦹Frankeinsten!Au(??)

𖦹Au introduction➢

Death

A concept that for some may bring fear

To others, it brings questions

Some even felt happy when the topic was brought

But why were they happy for?

Why they were so afraid of the day where their body would stop functioning?

Oh there were so many questions

Questions that nobody wanted to answer

Questions that nobody wanted to be answered

But we shouldn't dwell on those questions at the moment

You had an experiment to execute

Some days had passed since one of your experiments had come to life

Even if just for some minutes, your years of research finally paid off

So many years studying the human body

So many years accidentally electrifying yourself

So many years of the gods stopping you from reaching your goal

But now

You had done it

You had finally done it

You had brought the dead to life

Oh you longed for the answers for what happens after death that the once-dead body would tell you

Was there a God out there?

What was their name?

Were the Greeks right?

Or the Egyptians?

Or maybe the atheists?

Are we just a rock floating out there in the vast space?

Oh so many questions and oh so many answers

But happiness doesn't last for long

Of course, the experiment had to go back to their eternal sleep

Bloody hell

Why cant those people stop being so selfish

It wouldn't hurt to stay alive for some bloody hours, or even minutes

You had so many questions

But so little time

And all of these people were so ungrateful

You brought them to life

You gave them another chance to live

And yet not even a simple "thank you" exited their dry and slightly rotten lips

Even the youngest people seemed to become rude after death

They were so ungrateful

So disgusting

So...so-

UGH!!!

Then a sudden pain stopped your line of thought

The scalpel that you were holding penetrated your calloused hand

You would have to remember to clean it soon

Soon after you disposed of your anger that had been accumulating since your fourth experiment

And now, you would make sure to not hold back

You knew that nobody could recognize the body

Or else they would probably come to you

But you would make sure that not even the gods that watched you wretched figure disfiguring the body of the poor unfortunate soul that had the sad destiny to end up in your experiment table were unable to be recognized by them

They would call you a madman

Just like your professor Diruse had called you

He said it was dangerous

That it was an insane wish

Nobody should interfere with "god's plan"

"God's plan" your ass

You would show them that you weren't insane

You would show them all

You would open their eyes for the secrets that were hidden from them for centuries

And then

Nobody had to suffer anymore

Nobody would have to see their loved ones die

Nobody would have to accept death

Nobody would ever suffer

Just like you did on that unfortunate day

The day that death took everything from your

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

𖦹➢

→on this Au!, the reader takes a similar role as Victor Frankenstein

→after the mysterious death of their now-dead partner, the reader lives the rest of their life searching for how to bring someone back to life

→Luchino in this Au! is on his human form, he works as the science professor where the reader studies

→Luchino understand the distress that the reader is going through at the moment, but he keeps trying to convince the reader to stop with their experiments that, in the worst case, could end up in their death

→Ouroboros(Antonio) though, is very interested in Reader's experiments, even going as far as support them financially so they wouldn't give up on their experiments

→after discovering about Luchino, Ouroboros keeps trying to make the reader stop talking to Luchino, as he sees him as an "obstacle" to the reader's progress

.

→I am VERY tired right now sadly, I don't have a lot of ideas to keep writing but here are some of the roles of some characters and the relationship that they have with the reader( I'm only putting the ones that have A LOT of importance in this Au, I didn't put everyone or else it would be too long)

.

(Note:  They are still yandere for the reader depending on how the reader sees it, this is not how the characters see the reader, but yes how they see them)

→Luchino Diruse: Luchino is the reader's science teacher, he considers the reader as one of his best students, but since the death of their lover and the start of their research on how to bring the dead back to life, he has been extremely worried for the reader. He tries to convince them to stop but his warnings seem to fall on deaf ears( relationship: Questionable, because of Ouroboros influence, the reader started to see him as an obstacle)

→Ouroboros/Antonio Paganini: Ouroboros liked to see himself as one of the most powerful scientists to exist, sometimes, he also saw himself as a god, but that was only his gigantic ego talking, the moment that he saw the reader buying some items at the black market, Antonio decided to follow them home, "What would that simple mortal do with all of these things?", he asked himself. It took some days of Ouroboros stalking the reader until they noticed the presence of the tall men following them around, and when they did, they had already fallen for his trick( relationship: Very good. Ouroboros helps the reader with his experiments not only financially but also gives them a lot of knowledge that they couldn't learn in their class, which only helps Antonio to manipulate them and make them abandon the outside world and only focus on their research, also making it extremely easy for Antonio to keep them all to himself, he already has them on the palm of his hand anyways)

→Aesop Carl: Aesop also has an interest in the dead, even wanting to pursue the career of an embalmer when he finishes his studies. After the reader tells him about his experiments, unlike some of the other students that heard about his ideas, Aesop liked that idea, even though he preferred the dead over the alive, the idea of bringing someone who was once dead back to life seemed very interested, so interesting that he volunteers himself to help the reader on their little "project", to Antonio's dismay of course.

→Andrew Kreiss: Andrew is kind of the provider for reader's experiments, at first it was kind of weird how this stranger came almost every week to buy one of the graveward's bodies, but with time, the stranger became some kind of comfort on the lonely nights where Andrew guarded the graveward. Though he didn't like to admit it, he always got a little sad when the stranger's " assistant" was the one to come. (relationship: Neutral)

→Robbie White: He is not very important to the plot but you know that I had to put him here, my boy sells newspapers to people and he works with Victor, the reader really likes(PLATONICALY) him so he always buys a newspaper when he has a chance

.Extras

→Lucky Guy, Norton, Eli, Naib, Freddy, Xie Bi'an, Fan Wujiu, William, Eli, Edgar and Ganji are reader's classmates

→Jack is a local murderer, he knew reader by their frequent visits to the black market

→Burke, Bane, Joseph and Leo are teachers at the reader college/school

→Polun is a street performer, they knew readers because, when their(reader) lover was alive, they used to go to their performances

→Percy works as a Hitman(??), he was the one who killed the reader's lover they were involved with some...'   nasty' things, he meets redder because they have been contracted by Antonio to 'keep an eye on them' *cough* make sure they are working on the experiments and not slacking off *cough*

→Kurt works as a librarian on reader's college/school, they've each other by reader's constant visits to the school/college library

→Servais, Murro, Mik,e, and Smiley work at a circus in the center of the town where the reader lives, they know each other because the reader and their lover used to go there a lot

→ Jose and Kevin work at Demi's bar, they know the reader because of their frequent visits to the bar, especially after their lover's death

→Victor works to the town's mail, he meets the reader by Robbie, who managed to sell a lot of newspapers to them

→Luca was one of Ouroboros little specimens, before Ouroboros meets the reader, he used to "help" other people on their projects and then steal them, accusing the real creators of stealing from him and forcing him to pay for their things, which ends up on his victims going to jail, Luca meets the reader by trying to kill them out of rage, after knowing that Ouroboros is helping them, but gives up on the last second

→Emil is a patient in the asylum that the reader goes to get some of the bodies for his experiments, Emil doesn't know that the people that the reader takes out of there are dead, so he thinks that the reader is saving these people and taking them out of that hell

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

𖦹➢This was rushed af and probably sucks bc I'm writing this for some time now and I have tucked or any calligraphy errors (Grammarly is doing it for me lol). Also sorry for putting a lot of characters as classmates or teachers, I didn't know what to make them and I am exhausted today, (once again, sorry for the bad writing, this one was the most rushed one that I made)

My fingers are hurting help

Babes/p this is absolutely amazing oh my god- I’m so sorry I didn’t get to this before- I was setting up something for my rabbits lmao

I love how this plays out though, it’s really good!!! Tysm for sending this

Mold on Me

for @dukexietyweek‘s prompt High School, I have no clue how american schools work so I’m just going with what I know.

Summary: Virgil had only heard about Remus as a kid who annoyed his friends in their classes but after finally seeing what the other student looks like and meeting him is torn between hiding away or trying to get to know Remus better. Remus is already decided on meeting the snarky student again, if only to learn his name.

Warnings: Knife mentions, Food mentions?, unsafe science lab practices mentioned,

/\/\/\/\/\

Virgil had been bullied badly when he was younger. It was why he hated being around the more populated areas of the school and now basically lived in the Library as much as he could. That didn’t mean he was against making friends, just that they’d usually be the ones deciding to make friends and he just wouldn’t question it at all.

“He almost blew up the lab today. Why did I have to get partnered with someone who clearly has no regard for any form of safety? Even when I stopped him and tried to correct the experiment from where he’d mixed all the chemicals up he was literally taking the ones I was trying to return to mix together again!” Logan had been ranting for most of their breaktime by this point. Virgil didn’t really mind, and actually was kind of curious about the student in question.

He hadn’t had a class with Remus King before but already knew plenty of views about him, just because his 2 friends shared different classes with him. Logan’s complaints were always regarding some form of danger or safety protocol but Patton’s were where his interest came from.

The food technology class that Patton shared with Remus did have a lot of interesting assignments getting set at various times, including making savoury ice creams near the time of the open evenings so they could, essentially, prank the children wondering if this would be a good school for them to come to next. Patton had somehow managed to make one that tasted delicious but  Virgil still couldn’t work out if the flavour combination he’d been told Remus made only sounded disgusting or actually tasted horrible too.

“Dude, surely the teach would have stopped him if it was that dangerous.” Virgil just couldn’t be bothered to add something more to his list of reasons not to trust the teachers. It was already too long for his comfort and Logan was never one to help.

Patton at least caught onto that and came up with a subject to divert their conversation onto for the rest of their break.

/\/\

The next time Virgil thought about Remus was a few days later as their lunch break ended and he was heading into the science block for his physics class. Patton hadn’t made it out to lunch that day since his food technology class was either side of it so they’d have more time for the practical lessons.

It at least made the corridor Virgil was passing down smell delightfully of chocolate but he was far more interested in, and slightly terrified by, the boy kicking the door of the food tech classroom open, storming down the classroom, yelling “It’s knife work! What about that can’t be turned into uses for a weapon? What planet are you from that blades and any work from them isn’t two steps from a use to attack or torture another!”

One last thought Virgil had about Remus was that his friends were disasters at describing what any human looked like. According to Logan, the boy had obviously dyed his hair and ignored any attempt his parents or brother made to teach him personal hygiene. Patton was a little kinder, saying Remus had a lovely wide grin and energetic eyes, although Virgil was still trying to figure out just what that meant.

His mental image so far had been of some slightly crossed-eyed younger version of the Joker from Batman, but the boy fitting all the stories he’d heard of Remus looked nothing less than gorgeous.

“They’re from the Health and Safety state, Dude. We’re meant to have forgotten the threatening uses of knives we use in cooking unless we are the ones being threatened by them.” Virgil muttered his reply, to anxious about being noticed to say it any louder.

He still got noticed and the boy halting in front of him. “Someone in this damn school gets it! Come join us in class!” Virgil didn’t have much of a choice to disagree as his arm was grabbed and he got dragged into the classroom, sheepishly waving to Patton when the other students turned to look at the rapid return.

“Mr King, I’ve told you before that you cannot drag your friends into here even on a lunch break.” the teacher sighed, confirming Virgil’s assumption over who it was.

“I actually was heading to class anyway. There’s only like 2 minutes left before...” Virgil began explaining, tugging on his arm to get it released just as the bell went off to officially end the lunch period. “Yeah. I guess I’ll have to properly meet you some other time, Remus.”

He ducked out of the classroom before anything else could be said, letting the flow of other students heading to class calm the spiralling emotions and only just hearing “No fair, I’ll learn your name next time, Stachybotrys.” yelled after him.

If only the insane boy wasn’t proving to be exactly Virgil’s type perhaps he’d have learnt something about physics that day.

/\/\

Logan was not amused when he reached their table today. “Do either of you know if Remus means a person or the mold when he mentions Stachbotrys? I have had to argue constantly to get any progress on our study for the entirity of our class.”

“I met him for like two minutes. That should not be enough time for him to have anything to say about me.” Virgil growled, hunching back into his hoodie.

“He met Virgil while trying to storm out of food tech yesterday. Apparently our anxious bean muttered something in agreement of what he was yelling about knives.” Patton added what more he could at Logan’s raised eyebrow.

At least amusement was replacing Logan’s frustration now, a smile clearly being held back. “At least I didn’t try suggesting he locates the mold on rice then. Remus does seem rather insistent that and I’m paraphrasing here, he’s going to find and make his the Stachbotrys that is all he could think of last night.”

There aren’t quite words for everything Virgil wanted to say to that, so in the attempt he let out a rather strangled noise, burying his head in his arms. He could take having a crush on a complete whirlwind maniac who seemed to drive both his friends up the wall but having even the merest suggestion the affections could be returned was too much to understand.

“If he brings it up next time we share class I’ll suggest visiting the library to look up the subject, shall I?” Logan offered. Virgil made a mental note that there had now been 3 instances of teasing pushed too much by the boy who insisted he only ever acted logically.

/\/\

“I don’t need to read about mold but my science partner has decided if I’m going to talk about my Stachybotrys so much our experiments can easily be adjusted to focus on mold.” Remus’s voice was loud as he marched over to the helpdesk in the library and Virgil was just grateful he had decided to read at one of the tables hidden among the shelves while waiting for his lift to arrive. “Apparently that means I do need books to source the information I already know so which shelves am I looking for?”

Definitely not the area Virgil was in. The shelves near him included cultures of the world, and how to books for various creative hobbies. The only thing that seemed even remotely likely to interest Remus were the history of war books near the end of the isle but they didn’t connect to mold at all.

Virgil’s reasoning and frantic checking that he could hopefully avoid the other boy distracted him enough that he didn’t realise Remus looking through the shelves opposite him. “Stachybotrys! I found you again!” He couldn’t miss the exclamation though.

“Didn’t realise we were playing hide and seek. I thought I was writing an essay for English Lit.” Virgil hissed back, really not wanting to give the librarian any cause to kick him out.

“Ooh, what’s it on? And what’s your name? You’ve been on my mind like a mold and it would be nice to have the right name for the newest mold I’ve encountered.” Remus clearly didn’t care about making some noise although he did quiet down dramatically when he saw how uncomfortable the noise was making Virgil.

“I’m Virgil though I’m fairly sure you’ve already got my friends convinced Stachybotrys should just be a nickname for me now.”  He was actually annoyed at that.

Patton always butchered the word, and would only try to use it when mentioning how besotted he thought Remus was since the only diversion of subject in their food tech class recently had been how the molds of different foods could make people sick or kill them.

Logan on the other hand would just randomly use the name for Virgil in the hopes Remus would be somewhere close by to hear him. That had never worked since Virgil was either in class, outside to eat or in the library.

Remus peered at him a little. “Still fits though. You definitely appear like a threat but ultimately leaving the world undecided over how dangerous you are. So assuming Logan’s one of your friends, who is the other I’ve got calling you it? And do they think I have a chance at dating you?”

“Patton and are you seriously asking me if my friends think you should ask me out? Dude, if you want to date me just ask me if I want to go on a date. Or is being ridiculously convoluted a game of yours?” Virgil scolded, shaking his head, trying to decide if there was some kind of mind game happening in the moment or not.

“Okay then, Date me, Emo kid! We can go ravage a farm search for signs of mold and decay among all their crops and end with a picnic of snacks I invented recipes for in class!” Remus just shrugged at the tone, moving on to what was requested of him,

That was even further from Virgil’s expectations of the response than Logan saying Remus was set on finding him had been. Most people were at least a little put off by how harshly he reacted whe uncertain of situations. “Can we start with the food? My brain will just panic over how I could die from being close to mold and then eating if we do it your way round.”

“Of course we can. Let’s meet at Gorse Hill farm at like 2pm on Saturday for our date then!” Remus jumped up from his spot then, a wild grin on his face as he waved, heading off. “Can’t wait for it, Stachbotrys.”

Ooo, Michael and Liz gen! How about a high school time stamp? Two AP kids both competing for valedictorian.

here ya go! i love these two sm

also on ao3

In the sixth grade, Liz Ortecho swears a solemn oath. She is going to vanquish Michael Guerin if it's the last thing she does. Standing there so smug with his first place science fair ribbon, with his stupid rocket. Anyone could make a stupid rocket. Liz absolutely does not spend the next month of her life obsessed with rocketry, striving with single-minded determination to outdo stupid Michael Guerin's extremely stupid first place project before deciding that rockets were so boring that only boring judges would like them and her efforts would be better spent on better things, like working her way through the rest of the Biology section at the library. Brains were her new favorite subject. Maybe if she understood them perfectly, she could engineer her own to never get beat by stupid Michael Guerin again. It doesn't help that Michael is apparently, suddenly best friends with Max Evans, so she sees him all the time now. And he always grins at her and goes "'sup, Ortecho?" like he knows exactly what he did. Vato. Let's see him be smug after Liz vanquishes him. It's the start of a truly epic feud. Rosa laughs at her for every extra hour she spends studying, every extra trip to the library, every time a perfect score on an assignment adds an extra strain of viciousness to her satisfaction. Rosa laughs even if it's kind of annoying to hear all about how stupid Michael Guerin thought that question 5 was C, HA. You'd think Rosa would have a better appreciation for the agonies and ecstasies of having an archnemesis.

On one of those extra trips to the library, Liz is deep into a plot to climb the shelves when no one’s looking when that hated voice says behind her:

“’Sup, Ortecho?”

And he plunks a stepping stool down in front of her. She glares at him. His face would look way better with a few extra holes in it.

Holding his hands up in surrender, he says: “What? I have to use it too to keep from killing myself by dropping forty pound textbooks on my head. Use the tools you’re given, okay?”

The worst thing about having an archnemesis? Sometimes they’re right.

In eighth grade, Michael Guerin breaks his arm. He tells the story of how it happened different every time, with the same grinning smugness that never fails to make Liz incandescent with hatred.

And then he bombs a math test. (Liz knows because she always sits where she can spy on his grades when they have classes together. Otherwise how will she know if she’s winning or not?)

Michael Guerin never fails math. The odd English project here and there, maybe; his favorite class to sleep in is History. It’s lackluster grades in those classes he seems not to care about that keeps Liz’s GPA maintaining a holding pattern above his. But in all the years Liz has known him, he’s never gotten anything less than a perfect score in Math or Science.

She stares at him, at his carefully blank face, at his infuriatingly casual sprawl in the desk, his legs hanging out in the aisle, his head almost on the desk of the kid behind him, his arm…

His dominant arm in a cast, cradled against his torso, preventing him from taking notes.

Well that just isn’t fair at all.

She spends the rest of the test review period copying her own notes for the past week in quick, neat shorthand. The second the bell rings, she’s out of her seat, smacking the originals down right in front of him.

“Don’t feel the need to give them back,” she said.

Michael’s face stays just as blank; in fact, he barely even looks at her. “What’s up, Ortecho? You won, why don’t you just enjoy it?”

“It’s no fun if it’s not fair, obviously. Just use the tools you’re given, why don’t you? It’s stupid that they haven’t given you a note taker anyway.”

“Yeah, well, a lot of things are stupid.”

But not Liz. She’s smart enough to know it’s gratitude that makes him actually join the Mathletes with her when they start high school, putting them on the same team for once, their two heads together leading New Roswell to its first championship in over a decade.

--

By junior year of high school, Liz and Rosa have saved up enough money between the two of them to buy a used car together. Liz is a perfect driver, perfect record, aced the test first try, doesn’t even speed..and the first time she takes the car out, she ends up on the side of the road, trying not to totally lose it while smoke pours out from under the hood.

This car took all her money and all of Rosa’s, how is it already broken? What will she tell Rosa? How will she afford a mechanic?

Better for it to break down now than for Mom to steal it next time she skips town, a vicious voice says in her mind, and that’s the final straw. Liz lets out a scream from behind clenched teeth and slams the hood down as hard as she can.

“’Sup, Ortecho?”

“Fuck off, Guerin!”

She doesn’t need to hear it, how he outscored her again in chemistry, doesn’t need to hear him ask if she’s got her SAT scores back yet. God, why does he have to be here now? She wants to revel in how she almost certainly schooled him at the essay, god damn it!

But he doesn’t even reply to the bile she spits at him, just pulls over in his beat up truck, pops the hood again, and clicks his tongue at whatever he sees in that tangled, bitter-smelling mess.

“Let’s hitch ‘er up, I’ll give you a tow to Sanders’ and drive you home.”

Liz puffs herself up, then lets it out slow. It’s Guerin. What’s he going to do, laugh at her? Not over this. He may be her archnemesis, but he’s not that.

“I can’t afford the fix,” she says.

“No charge.”

“What? No!”

“Look.” He smirks that awful smirk. “I know you’ll pay me back. We’ve got Physics together next year. Your anguish is all the payment I need.”

“Michael Guerin, you are the WORST.”

“That’s what they tell me.”

But he drives her home with the windows rolled down and lets her set the radio. The passing wind tosses both their hair and Liz laughs at how he looks with his curls in a wild frenzy all around him, and for long enough they’re both just kids. Not friends, no. Archrivals, which is, after all, the next best thing.

--

Liz was valedictorian. For what it’s worth.

--

“’Sup, Ortecho?”

Liz whirls around, and her dress whirls with her. Red, not white. Rosa was over the moon.

Michael is leaning against the doorframe, hands in his pockets, vest and shirt half undone, looking ruffled and dreamy, like he just walked out of a magazine. Liz rolls her eyes at him.

“’Sup, sleazy best-man-seduces-the-bride stereotype?”

“Ouch.”

They both burst out into laughter, Liz doubling over and grabbing the vanity to stay upright, Michael buttoning himself all the way up to the top in a mocking show of modesty, until Liz’s laughter turns into anxious hiccupping and he drops the act as well.

“Liz, seriously, what’s up?”

His voice goes all concerned and understanding, the bastard.

“This is stupid, right? I mean, marriage is such a useless social construct now, and forty-one percent of first marriages end in divorce and fifty percent of all marriages, which is also a relevant statistic because I’ve already fucked over one fiancé in dramatic fashion and maybe I should just leave Max at the altar and get terrible person bingo, and—”

“Hey, Liz, hey, breathe.”

Michael helps her sit and rubs her back as she tries to head off hyperventilation.

“This isn’t stupid,” he says calmly. “You want this. You know you do. You already have Max heart and soul and all that sappy shit, it’s okay to want him legally, too. Use the tools you’re given, right?”

Liz sniffs and barks out a watery laugh. Dumbass.

“Who let you get all wise on me? I hate it.”

“Eh, I’m not wise, I just learned how to be a gracious loser.”

“What do you mean?”

“The big day? The fancy wedding, the ring on your finger? You win, Ortecho.” His face goes all wistful.

“Oh.”

Not knowing what to say, she knocks their shoulders together, and it makes him smile.

“Don’t worry about me. Since when have I ever been far behind?”

For their happiness, as hard-fought as it was, it feels right that they should watch it approaching together, neck and neck. Side by side, like all the best archrivals.

Welllp These Are Books: the June 2021 Edition

I have read a lot of books this month. That should be stated upfront. Just an absolute metric ton of books. Some real good, some not-so good, some inadvertently hysterical. Also, I made that BINGO board. Because, like, you ever have a total crisis of writing-confidence and ignore that potential freakout and the tendency of your coworkers to miss deadlines by reading every free Amazon sports romance you can find? And several full YA series? In one month? No? My experiences are not universal, I understand. Anyway, there’s thoughts and opinions and spoilers under the cut. Everyone read the Once Upon a Con series, I’m begging you.

READ THIS SERIES! PLEASE! EVERY BOOK WAS SO CUTE! EVERYONE IN EVERY BOOK WAS SO CUTE! THE FANDOM STUFF DID NOT GIVE ME SECOND-HAND EMBARRASSMENT!

Geekerella by Ashley Poston Part romance, part love letter to nerd culture, and all totally adorbs, Geekerella is a fairy tale for anyone who believes in the magic of fandom. Geek girl Elle Wittimer lives and breathes Starfield, the classic sci-fi series she grew up watching with her late father. So when she sees a cosplay contest for a new Starfield movie, she has to enter. The prize? An invitation to the ExcelsiCon Cosplay Ball, and a meet-and-greet with the actor slated to play Federation Prince Carmindor in the reboot. With savings from her gig at the Magic Pumpkin food truck (and her dad’s old costume), Elle’s determined to win…unless her stepsisters get there first. Teen actor Darien Freeman used to live for cons—before he was famous. Now they’re nothing but autographs and awkward meet-and-greets. Playing Carmindor is all he’s ever wanted, but the Starfield fandom has written him off as just another dumb heartthrob. As ExcelsiCon draws near, Darien feels more and more like a fake—until he meets a girl who shows him otherwise. 

The Princess and the Fangirl by Ashley Poston Imogen Lovelace is an ordinary fangirl on an impossible mission: to save her favorite Starfield character, Princess Amara, from being killed off. On the other hand, the actress who plays Amara wouldn’t mind being axed. Jessica Stone doesn’t even like being part of the Starfield franchise—and she’s desperate to leave the intense scrutiny of fandom behind. Though Imogen and Jess have nothing in common, they do look strangely similar to one another—and a case of mistaken identity at ExcelsiCon sets off a chain of events that will change both of their lives. When the script for the Starfield sequel leaks, with all signs pointing to Jess, she and Imogen must trade places to find the person responsible. The deal: Imogen will play Jess at her signings and panels, and Jess will help Imogen’s best friend run their booth. But as these “princesses” race to find the script leaker—in each other’s shoes—they’re up against more than they bargained for. From the darker side of fandom to unexpected crushes, Imogen and Jess must find a way to rescue themselves from their own expectations...and redefine what it means to live happily ever after. 

Bookish and the Beast by Ashley Poston In this third book of the Once Upon a Con series, Rosie Thorne is feeling stuck—on her college application essays, in her small town, and on that mysterious General Sond cosplayer she met at ExcelsiCon. Most of all, she’s stuck in her grief over her mother’s death. Her only solace was her late mother’s library of rare Starfield novels, but even that disappeared when they sold it to pay off hospital bills. On the other hand, Vance Reigns has been Hollywood royalty for as long as he can remember—with all the privilege and scrutiny that entails. When a tabloid scandal catches up to him, he’s forced to hide out somewhere the paparazzi would never expect to find him: Small Town USA. At least there’s a library in the house. Too bad he doesn’t read. When Vance’s and Rosie’s paths collide, sparks do not fly. But as they begrudgingly get to know each other, their careful masks come off—and they may just find that there’s more risk in shutting each other out than in opening their hearts.

— I cannot possibly overstate what an absolute delight this series was. Cute and sweet and adorable. Like rot your teeth sweet with romances that my high-school self would have swooned over. (I would have been so in love with Darien Freeman as a 16 year old, it’s not even funny. Also, I would have been obsessed with Starfield.) Let’s be honest, my current self swooned quite a lot. Reading these books genuinely felt like a love letter to fandom. To the good and bad and trashy parts of it, and it made my heart swell thinking about these fictional kids and the community they found and how much they learned and then they FELL IN LOVE and, like, not to sound like an after-school special, but: THE REP IN THESE BOOKS?!?? HOLY S H I T. So good. So goddamn good. And not, like, shoved to the side. Like, Jess falls in love with a girl. And it gets its swoon-worthy moment as much as anyone else. Plus, bi-librarian dad who wears suspenders??? Sign. Me. Up. Twisting the fairy tales into the stories also worked really well in my opinion. Honestly my only gripe was that Darien found a cell phone number in the white pages, but, like, everything else was a joy. Please read these books. I promise they will make you smile.

IN WHICH I CAN NEVER TURN DOWN A BEAUTY AND THE BEAST ALTERNATE UNIVERSE

Cruel Beauty by Rosamund Hodge Betrothed to the evil ruler of her kingdom, Nyx has always known that her fate was to marry him, kill him, and free her people from his tyranny. But on her seventeenth birthday when she moves into his castle high on the kingdom's mountaintop, nothing is what she expected—particularly her charming and beguiling new husband. Nyx knows she must save her homeland at all costs, yet she can't resist the pull of her sworn enemy—who's gotten in her way by stealing her heart.

— Yo. YO. Everyone in this book was horrible! And it was wonderful! I figured out the twist approximately point two seconds after the potential for a twist was possibly introduced and it did not diminish my enjoyment of this book for one second. I am such a sucker for any Beauty and the Beast AU, but this was way different than anything I’d read before and Nyx was a blood-thirsty terror and I loved her. The magic and the world building was fascinating in that I really did not expect Greek gods and goddess, but it was also a welcome turn in a weird, huh, that’s interesting sort of way. And the banter was a-plus, top tier. Even when they were snarking at each other. Especially when they were snarking at each other. (Still a pretty quick turn from enemies to lovers, but I’m willing to overlook that based almost solely on the snark.) Plus, the castle was fascinating. And there were more twists aside from the main twist, none of which I figured out. All of which I gasped over. The end was like—chef’s kiss, fantastic. I would like a novel-length sequel to tell me how everything worked out.

...BUT THE LITTLE RED RIDING HOOD ONE WASN’T AS GOOD

Crimson Bound by Rosamund Hodge When Rachelle was fifteen she was good—apprenticed to her aunt and in training to protect her village from dark magic. But she was also reckless—straying from the forest path in search of a way to free her world from the threat of eternal darkness. After an illicit meeting goes dreadfully wrong, Rachelle is forced to make a terrible choice that binds her to the very evil she had hoped to defeat.Three years later, Rachelle has given her life to serving the realm, fighting deadly creatures in a vain effort to atone. When the king orders her to guard his son Armand—the man she hates most—Rachelle forces Armand to help her hunt for the legendary sword that might save their world. Together, they navigate the opulent world of the courtly elite, where beauty and power reign and no one can be trusted. And as the two become unexpected allies, they discover far-reaching conspiracies, hidden magic . . . and a love that may be their undoing. Within a palace built on unbelievable wealth and dangerous secrets, can Rachelle discover the truth and stop the fall of endless night?

— As much as I loved Cruel Beauty, I was like ehhhh on this one. Which is part Little Red Riding Hood (although that seems like a stretch, honestly) and part The Girl With No Hands, which is a fairy tale I have literally never heard of before. Rachelle was just—sorta whiny? Which, y’know, she was cursed and had fucked up her entire life, so fair, but also...annoying. I kept reading mostly to try and understand what the FUCK was going on with the magic. I like to consider myself a relatively intelligent person who can understand most YA novels, but this one was tough to keep track of. Like, sure, the imagery of the Dark Forest was cool, but also what is a Gladspring? I’m still not sure I know. Also, this kind of dragged in some places. Lots of patrolling the palace (whining about life) and not enough magic-fighting or establishing any sort of relationship between Rachelle and Armand. Which just sort of happened? Amidst, approximately, twenty-four different twists that were admittedly cool, but also felt like they came out of nowhere. Everything that happened in Cruel Beauty made sense. Most of what happened here felt like it was shoehorned in for shock value.

YOU WANT MORAL AMBIGUITY? BOY HAVE I GOT MORAL AMBIGUITY FOR YOU. IN GODDAMN SPADES.

The Firebird Series by Claudia Gray Marguerite Caine's physicist parents are known for their groundbreaking achievements. Their most astonishing invention, called the Firebird, allows users to jump into multiple universes—and promises to revolutionize science forever. But then Marguerite's father is murdered, and the killer—her parent's handsome, enigmatic assistant Paul— escapes into another dimension before the law can touch him.Marguerite refuses to let the man who destroyed her family go free. So she races after Paul through different universes, always leaping into another version of herself. But she also meets alternate versions of the people she knows—including Paul, whose life entangles with hers in increasingly familiar ways. Before long she begins to question Paul's guilt—as well as her own heart. And soon she discovers the truth behind her father's death is far more sinister than she expected.

— Guys. GUYS. These books, oh my G O D. Little known fact about me, but I am trash for cross-dimensional soulmates. The concept of “we’ll find each other anywhere” is one of my favorites, so I was so psyched about these books. And for awhile that’s what I thought I was going to get out of them. But. BUT! What I actually got was something, not totally different, but not entirely great, either. The problem here was that when anyone used one of the Firebird devices to jump dimensions they TOOK OVER THE BODY THEY JUMPED INTO. So, like, that consciousness got shoved to the side while whatever prime!person just took over. Living that body’s life. In a different dimension. And that’s kinda fucked up, right??? Brings in all sorts of questions about consent and morality and let me tell you, guys, this YA series DID NOT ADDRESS A SINGLE ONE OF THEM. Which is also super fucked up!! So, like, Marguerite is just bouncing around dimensions taking over people’s bodies and lives and leaving this, frankly, trail of destruction in her wake. And as if that wasn’t enough!!! In the second book Paul’s soul gets, like, split and she’s got to round up the pieces through dimensions, meeting all sorts of Pauls who are occasionally kind of shit people and he eventually just, like, CANNOT COPE. Seriously, I could not stop reading these. Partially for the moral ambiguity. Partially because I could not figure out why Paul loved Marguerite. Also, capitalism was the ultimate villain. AS IT SHOULD BE, REALLY.

CREEPY FAE WERE KIND OF CREEPY AND THAT’S NOT BAD, BUT LIKE MAYBE THIS WASN’T A GOOD BOOK?

An Enchantment of Ravens by Margaret Rogerson Isobel is an artistic prodigy with a dangerous set of clients: the sinister fair folk, immortal creatures who cannot bake bread or put a pen to paper without crumbling to dust. They crave human Craft with a terrible thirst, and Isobel’s paintings are highly prized. But when she receives her first royal patron—Rook, the autumn prince—she makes a terrible mistake. She paints mortal sorrow in his eyes—a weakness that could cost him his life. Furious, Rook spirits her away to his kingdom to stand trial for her crime. But something is seriously wrong in his world, and they are attacked from every side. With Isobel and Rook depending on each other for survival, their alliance blossoms into trust, then love—and that love violates the fair folks’ ruthless laws. Now both of their lives are forfeit, unless Isobel can use her skill as an artist to fight the fairy courts. Because secretly, her Craft represents a threat the fair folk have never faced in all the millennia of their unchanging lives: for the first time, her portraits have the power to make them feel.

— I’ve seen this book mentioned a lot. As good. And it wasn’t not good, but Isobel was pretty goddamn annoying and kind of dumb and a little self-important and I was mostly here for the creepy fae. That was fun. More fae should have antlers and stuff. Everything in this story happened ridiculously fast. I couldn’t believe it was over when it was over.

THE PROSE WAS VERY PRETTY. I’M NOT SURE WHY THE DRAGON HAD TO BE SUCH A MONUMENTAL DICK.

Uprooted  by Naomi Novik Agnieszka loves her valley home, her quiet village, the forests and the bright shining river. But the corrupted Wood stands on the border, full of malevolent power, and its shadow lies over her life. Her people rely on the cold, driven wizard known only as the Dragon to keep its powers at bay. But he demands a terrible price for his help: one young woman handed over to serve him for ten years, a fate almost as terrible as falling to the Wood. The next choosing is fast approaching, and Agnieszka is afraid. She knows—everyone knows—that the Dragon will take Kasia: beautiful, graceful, brave Kasia, all the things Agnieszka isn’t, and her dearest friend in the world. And there is no way to save her. But Agnieszka fears the wrong things. For when the Dragon comes, it is not Kasia he will choose.

— Let me just say first off, that this should have been two books. Everything happened so quickly, I swear I got whiplash. That being said, as a heroine, I liked Agnieszka a lot. She was understandably freaked by everything that happened, but once she kind of settled, she didn’t take The Dragon’s shit and that was good because The Dragon was kind of shitty. This is why it should have been two books. Because everything The Dragon did felt like it needed some kind of explanation. Or at least some sort of reasoning for why he was such a monumental bastard. Which is why I was a little confused that Agnieszka was in love with him? He was such a dick, honestly. The last third or so of this book was the best because Novik really does know how to write action and the magic itself was pretty fascinating. (I wish it went into more depth, but I think I’m spoiled by fic and that’s not actually how the publishing world works.) Kasia might have been the most interesting person in this story. Girl went through it and just became a total badass. I loved her.

MARAUDER FEELINGS! MARAUDER FEELINGS! SO! MANY! MARAUDER! FEELINGS!

The Raven King by Maggie Stiefvater All her life, Blue has been warned that she will cause her true love's death. She doesn't believe in true love and never thought this would be a problem, but as her life becomes caught up in the strange and sinister world of the Raven Boys, she's not so sure anymore.

— RICHARD GANSEY, MY BELOVED. What a dweeb. A self-sacrificing, sorta sad dweeb. When he wrapped his jacket around Blue, my heart exploded. I think I spent the last fifteen or so chapters with disconcertingly wide eyes and possibly my hand over my mouth. Still not entirely sure why a Welsh king was in Virginia, but I loved it. Was real glad he was there. As promised by that one book rec list I read months ago, the Marauders vibes of these books were off the charts. It was a weird story with lots of weird things and I hope Mr. Grey gets to be happy one day and that Ronan and Adam make out some more eventually. I think they’ll both feel a lot better if they do. Like, about the world as a whole. Has anyone read the Ronan spinoff series? Should I read the Ronan spinoff series?

OK, THIS WASN’T THAT BAD, ACTUALLY

To Love Jason Thorn by Ella Maise Jason Thorn... My brother's childhood friend. Oh, how stupidly in love with that boy I was. He was the first boy that made me blush, my first official crush. Sounds beautiful so far, right? That excitement that bubbles up inside you, those famous butterflies you feel for the very first time--he was the reason for them all. But, you only get to live in that fairytale world until they crush your hopes and dreams and then stomp on your heart for good measure. And boy did he crush my little heart into pieces. After the stomping part he became the boy I did my best to stay away from--and let me tell you, it was pretty hard to do when he slept in the room right across from mine. When tragedy struck his family and they moved away, I was ready to forget he ever existed. Now he is a movie star, the one who makes women of all ages go into a screaming frenzy, the one who makes everyone swoon with that dimpled smile of his. Do you think that's dreamy? I certainly don't think so. How about me coming face to face with him? Nope still not dreamy. Not when I can't even manage to look him in the eye. Me? I'm Olive, a new writer. Actually, I'm THE writer of the book that inspired the movie he is about to star in on the big screen. As of late, I am also referred to as the oh-so-very-lucky girl who is about to become the wife of Jason Thorn. Maybe you're thinking yet again that this is all so dreamy? Nope, nothing dreamy going on here. Not even close.

— Ignoring the fact that this was almost blatant self-insert, this was a mostly good, occasionally trashy book with brother’s best friend and the one who got away tropes. Which, as we know, are my life’s blood. (Plus, surprise, fake marriage that isn’t really fake?!? Ok. OK!) My only eeek moment was when Olive got super drunk and wanted Jason to like—consummate the marriage and he was like, No Olive, you’re drunk. And then they ended up doing everything except having full-on sex, which felt a little creep and a lot sketch and then it was never mentioned again. Also, Olive needs to find some better friends, God.

EMERSON COD VOICE: HE’S STAAAAAALKING YOU

Marriage For One by Ella Maise Jack and I, we did everything backward. The day he lured me into his office-which was also the first day we met-he proposed. You'd think a guy who looked like him-a bit cold maybe, but still striking and very unattainable-would only ask the love of his life to marry him, right? You'd think he must be madly in love. Nope. It was me he asked. A complete stranger who had never even heard of him. A stranger who had been dumped by her fiancé only weeks before. You'd think I'd laugh in his face, call him insane-and a few other names-then walk away as quickly as possible. Well…I did all those things except the walking away part. It took him only minutes to talk me into a business deal…erm, I mean marriage, and only days for us to officially tie the knot. Happiest day of my life. Magical. Pop the champagne… Not. It was the worst day. Jack Hawthorne was nothing like what I'd imagined for myself. I blamed him for my lapse in judgment. I blamed his eyes, the ocean blue eyes that looked straight into mine unapologetically, and that frown on his face I had no idea I would become so fascinated with in time. It wasn't long after he said I was the biggest mistake of his life that things started to change. No, he still didn't talk much, but anyone can string a few words together. His actions spoke the loudest to me. And day after day my heart started to get a mind of its own.

— Ok, ok, ok, so I enjoyed the Jason Thorn book, right? Was, like, how bad could this other book be? And it wasn’t bad, but it was patently ridiculous. Let me explain what happened. Not entirely sorry for the spoilers. Jack the lawyer sees that Rose is only going to get the space for her coffee shop from her uncle’s will if she marries someone. She WAS engaged, but the guy split. For reasons no one can understand, especially Rose. She’s sad. She’s spent so much money on espresso machines! Enter Jack the lawyer who one random afternoon is like: HEY ROSE, YOU’RE MOSTLY A STRANGER, BUT I ALSO NEED TO GET MARRIED FOR REASONS I’LL ONLY SORTA EXPLAIN, LETS DO THAT. So they do???? And Jack the lawyer continues to be kinda weird and a little shady, but Rose has got the coffee shop and things are going well. Until! She’s got a leaky brain!!! That’s not a joke. Not a typo. Out of goddamn LEFT FIELD, Rose has got some horrible medical condition, so thank God she got married because Jack the lawyer’s got great health insurance. (this is ROMANTIC) and she’s got to have an operation and he stays with her and sleeps in the hospital chair and her coffee shop is somehow still going strong??? On Madison Avenue??? What sit-down coffee shop on Madison Avenue do you guys know that would succeed? None because it’s not downtown. I digress. Anyway, Rose makes a miraculous recovery, she and Jack the lawyer are now almost in love? At least having a shit ton of sex. They’re mostly happily married. Until, part two! The ex-fiance shows up and is like JACK THE LAWYER PAID ME TO BREAK UP WITH YOU. To which Rose is understandably flabbergasted. She confronts Jack the lawyer who fesses that he’s been seriously crushing on her since they met at her uncle’s Christmas party. She doesn’t remember this. He does. BECAUSE HE’S A STALKER. So, he knew about the will stipulation with marriage BACK THEN, which is why he used FIRM RESOURCES to investigate the ex-fiance and found out he was a con man, using Rose with plans to basically steal all her money. This infuriated Jack the lawyer because he thought Rose deserved better and then proceeded to basically con her himself, just in a different way. With marriage! He told her he needed to get married to show he was a family man to make partner. THAT WAS A LIE. He didn’t need it at all. He just—wanted to marry her??? To help her??? What a psycho. She leaves. He continues to lurk outside the coffee shop. They make up. No one mentions the stalking. The end.

I KEEP GIVING HELENA SECOND CHANCES AND SHE KEEPS...NOT DESERVING THEM

All In Series by Helena Hunting Sometimes I need an escape from the demands, the puck bunnies, and the notoriety that come with being an NHL team captain. I just want to be a normal guy for a few weeks. So when I leave Chicago for some peace and quiet, the last thing I expect is for a gorgeous woman to literally fall into my lap on a flight to Alaska. Even better, she has absolutely no idea who I am.Lainey is the perfect escape from my life. My plan for seclusion becomes a monthlong sex fest punctuated with domestic bliss. But it ends just as abruptly as it began. When I’m called away on a family emergency, I realize too late that I have no way to contact Lainey.A year later, a chance encounter throws Lainey and me together again. But I still have a lie hanging over my head, and Lainey’s keeping secrets of her own. With more than lust at stake, the truth may be our game changer.

— Last year I read a hockey romance by Helena Hunting that was very cute and traditionally published and she’s got a bunch more free Amazon books that, for some reason, I keep downloading and reading and they continue to be absolutely ridiculous. That first one was a not-so-secret accidental pregnancy (as previously discussed ONE TIME without a condom mention and bam pregnant) but the second one with Rook’s sister was actually pretty cute. I’m not sure why they all called him Rook. Almost all these series have at least one book with someone recovering from an injury and they inevitably fall in love with their physical therapist. So, that one was pretty ok. None of these, however, were quite as entertaining as (wait for it) QUEENIE AND KINGSTON. WHOSE FRIENDS AND TEAMMATES ALL CALL HIM KING. QUEENIE. AND. KING. Gag. I read it anyway. At least 99% of that decision was based solely on the fact that the story started just after King found out his sister was actually his mom. How am I supposed to stop reading THAT?!? I ask you. Highlights of Queenie and King’s romance included: him calling his mom/sister MOMSTER, Queenie being secretly married this whole time, WITHOUT KNOWING IT, his strawberry allergy that flared up because she’d had a strawberry milkshake and then GAVE HIM A BLOWJOB, her dad finding out they were dating because he was the GM of the team and saw that his starting goalie was having a MASSIVE allergic reaction, Queenie’s eventual ex-husband getting engaged to someone who previously tried to self-inseminate to trap Rook into a relationship (I am not making this up, I swear) and then when he found out that his fiancee’s kid wasn’t actually his, he got into a massive fight and earned a 20-game suspension. THAT’S A QUARTER OF AN NHL SEASON. Tom Wilson got fined five thousand dollars for practically killing Artemi Panarin on the ice! I did not read the last book in this series because it was MORE ACCIDENTAL PREGNANCY and because it was Queenie’s dad and King’s mom and that meant they’d share a sibling. Which is where I draw the line, guys.

THERE WERE SEVEN BOOKS IN THIS SERIES! EVERY SINGLE ONE HAD TO HAVE A SCENE WHERE THE DUDE UNDERSTOOD THAT PERIODS WERE A THING???? LIKE THAT WAS IMPRESSIVE SOMEHOW?!?!

Hot Jocks Series by Kendall Ryan I've never been so stupid in my entire life. My teammate's incredibly sweet and gorgeous younger sister should have been off-limits, but my hockey stick didn't get that memo. After our team won the championship, and plenty of alcohol, our flirting turned physical and I took her to bed. Shame sent her running the next morning from our catastrophic mistake. She thinks I don't remember that night—but every detail is burned into my brain so deeply, I’ll never forget. The feel of her in my arms, the soft whimpers of pleasure I coaxed from her perfect lips…And now I’ve spent three months trying to get her out of my head. Which has been futile, because I’m starting to understand she’s the only girl I’ll ever want. I have one shot to show her I can be exactly what she needs, but Elise won’t be easily convinced. That’s okay, because I’m good under pressure, and this time, I’m playing for keeps.

—I read all of these. All. Of. Them. They were exceptionally quick reads. Every single one had a copious amount of sex in it and a very weird, apparently required scene, where the dude had to be like I’M NOT SQUICKED OUT BY PERIODS AM I NOT THE ULTIMATE EXAMPLE OF MASCULINITY?? My favorite one was Grant and Ana’s, though, because it was so goddamn absurd I cannot believe someone wrote it. Basic gist was that Ana was dating someone on Grant’s team (he’s the captain, natch) but the guy was a dick and abusive and so one night Ana decides to leave, but she needs someone to help her and WHO DOES SHE TURN TO??? That’s right, reclusive captain Grant. Who’s spent the last few years watching his teammates marry-up and start families and he’s so jealous, but he can’t say anything because he’s a stoic MAN™. So he takes Ana and her dog (of course she’s got a dog) back to his super swanky bachelor pad and she just sort of...stays there? Video of the boyfriend accosting her at her job gets leaked and the boyfriend gets sent to the AHL which is not really how it would work, but fine. Naturally, Grant and Ana hook up. It’s emotional. Vaguely romantic. There’s no GODDAMN CONDOM. So, she gets pregnant. But, of course. Except! She doesn’t know if it’s dick boyfriend’s or Grant’s. Because he’s the male lead in a free sports romance on Amazon, Grant is the MOST understanding. He wants to help Ana. He would like to continue having sex with Ana. This is ready-made happily ever after. Only Ana’s like...eh?? She doesn’t want it to look like she bounced from one hockey player to the next, but also she sorta did and she kept telling Grant she just wanted to be friends, only to have sex, like, three chapters later. Then she just moved out! Just moved out. Seven months pregnant. Moving out. With her dog. Of course, this is a free sports romance on Amazon, so eventually she moved back in with Grant. Once she realized independence wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. And because he left practice to be there when she had the baby. Oh! And she got a DNA test after. To see whose kid it was. Grant ripped that ‘ish up. Just ripped it up. Which is cool, I guess. But, like, you didn’t want to double check? What if that kid has to go to the hospital? Did she put Grant’s name on the birth certificate? What are his parental rights?? Anyway, they’re all set to live HEA when....THE DICK BOYFRIEND DIES. Straight up. No explanation. Nothing. Just Grant tells Ana he’s dead, she’s like, oh wow that’s sad, they send some flowers to the funeral and that’s THAT. I assume this was to close any potential plot holes on the father of this baby, but it was hysterical and I cannot stop thinking about it. Strangely enough, the one where the couple made a secret sex tape in college and then got back together because it got released may have been the healthiest relationship in this series.

Apocalypse: Sanctuary - Chapter 8

Hey guys! So sorry it took a bit longer this time to get a chapter out. As always I love hearing from you guys and every comment and Kudos keeps me going. Realy, your support, no matter how small you think it is, means a lot to me. This chapter is a bit slower, in my opinion, but I hope you all will like it!

Read on AO3 or see Masterpost for more chapters!

Em had decided to drop the investigation into the Geiger counter and focus on more productive investigations. The work schedule and manual from Mead’s closet would bear more fruitful and usable data, but it didn’t mean that moving from it was easy. Something about Stu’s death was off, they all knew it. Em knew about answer lay in that single page of shorthand gibberish.

Now they were in the library... her and Emily at least. Timothy was in a meeting. Langdon had the worst timing... or the best. Depended on what eyes you looked with.

A book sat in her lap, closed after she had read the last page. Dante’s Divine Comedy — she had meant to read it above ground but... well she had meant to do a lot of things. As the days went on the more worry she had over an idea of an afterlife. She was desperate for it and if, as an unbeliever, she was cast to hell, she’d much prefer to have an idea what torture she faced.

Frowning, her hand went to her throbbing leg. Em prayed her sewing skills were enough to mend the wound, small but deep. She had dressed it with some cloth from the towel she had bloodied and tied it in place with a ribbon. Most of the time she could hardly feel it, but one wrong move and she was hissing in pain.

Emily was doing some reading of her own, that of the more productive sort. She understood science much better than Em did and was having a go at the Geiger counter note.

“You know what I hate most about stories?” the brunette mused aloud after staring at the ceiling for a good twenty minutes.

Emily’s eyes didn’t leave her book, “What?”

“The ending.”

Her friend's nose scrunched for a moment before she turned to her, “isn’t that the whole point of reading? To make it to the end?”

“It’s sad,” Em sighed, “isn’t it?”

Em shrugged, watching her friend stare at the sky, “depends on the ending.”

“No... happy or not... it’s sad.”

Emily sighed, closing her book and stashing the note in her corset, “I think you’ve been spending too much time in your own head.”

“So have you,” Em reminded.

“Because I’m trying to figure something out.”

This piqued Em’s interest, eyes glimmering with the excitement of something new as she leaned towards her friend. “A mystery.”

Emily laughed and shook her head at the other woman’s antics, “you make it sound dramatic.”

“We’re some of the last people on earth... everything we do is dramatic as there is nothing to compare it to.”

“You’re eccentric, you know that?”

Em was starving for something new to investigate. Her mind needed a focus or else it would go into the worst places. “What’s the mystery, Miss Holmes?”

Her friend rolled her eyes but quickly turned to business.

“Venable is hiding something.”

“Venable is hiding a great deal of things,” Em noted, “that isn’t something new. So is Langdon, but that’s part of his job description.”

“Why the secrecy, though?”

“Knowledge is power.”

“But what is the truth?” Emily said, “we’ve been here for almost two years and all we’ve found out is when certain Wardens work and decontamination procedures and whatever else is in that manual.”

“Then how do we find out their secret plot?” Em asked, “preferably before we have to put that manual to good use.”

Emily rose from her seat and quickly made sure the library was empty. It wasn’t a particularly large library... about the size of the one at her high-school. She looked down every aisle before coming to sit back down, leaning in close to Em.

“Timothy and I are working one out,”

“Oh?” Em asked, raising an eyebrow.

Emily’s face flushed, “Not like that!”

“Don’t dash the power of a romantic subplot.”

“Did you always speak in poetry or have you finally gone insane?”

“I’ve simply lost my filter,” Em dismisses with a wave of her hand, “this plan of yours?”

“We need you to distract Langdon.”

El laughed, quickly quieting when she realized her friend wasn’t laughing along.

“That man would see right through any attempt.”

“He likes you,” Emily reminded, “why else would he call you to his office so often?”

“Bored cats will catch mice and watch them run around, barely surviving death for hours on end, just for their own amusement.”

“...so Langdon’s a cat.”

“He something far worse.”

Emily sighed, “will you help us or no?”

Em really didn’t want to tell her friend that she would be a hindrance to the investigation due to her injured leg. However, saying that would bring up more questions and she really didn’t want the girl to think she had completely lost her mind. Blackouts were one thing... homicidal urges were something else entirely. And the possibility of them happening at the same time? Not a cocktail she was willing to try.

“Your best bet is to observe his behavior and watch for patterns,” She noted, “find out when he’s distracted. You’re smart, Emily, that’s why you’re here.”

“So you’re not going to help us?”

“I want to live,” Em insisted, “the best I can do is keep silent while you two work. Venable’s already watching me like a hawk and she’d gladly take down all of us if it meant killing me.”

Emily understood her friend’s reluctance. Last time Em had a more hands-on role. She could take action if things went wrong.

“Don’t you want to know?” She asked, grabbing her friend’s hands and squeezing them, “knowledge is power, right?”

Em remembered her vision, Emily and Timothy laying on the floor while foaming at the mouth. Their eyes staring desperately at the sky as if begging god to spare them.

She cursed under her breath and pulled away from Emily’s touch, pinching her nose and sighing.

“Where do you need me to be?”

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

By the time Timothy arrived Em and Emily had long grown bored of talking plans. In all honesty, the less Em knew of what they were doing the better it was. If she got caught there’d be nothing to pry from her. All that mattered was Em would make a distraction at the right time, pretend to search through his office while Timothy and Emily searched his room.

For now, however, they were content to play Heads Up and pretend the real world didn’t exist.

“Am I a pretty… lady?” Em asked. She was never good at this game.

Emily was sitting in Timothy’s lap, draped over him like a cat with her legs propping up on the armrest of the sofa.

“Would she be?” Timothy asked her.

Emily hummed, “I’m not sure.”

“Let me rephrase it,” Em proposed, turning to Emily, “is she my type?”

“Yes,” Timothy answered a bit too quickly, Emily giving him a look and shaking her head.

“But she has—” he tried to reason.

“But she doesn’t have—” Emily reminded, the pair staring at one another until they burst into laugher. Emily curled into Timothy, her head resting in the crook of his neck.

They were interrupted, as always, by a screeching of the library doors. Laughter halted in their throats, eyes turning towards the sound of feet on carpet as silence overtook the room save the small sizzling of melted wax meeting fire.

Mead appeared from the shadows of the room, arms crossed as she came to stand before them. Her eyes narrowed as she realized two-thirds of them had a piece of paper taped to their heads, something written upon them which she could not see.

She turned to Em with and sighed, “Michael wants to see you.

Not bothering to hide her annoyance, Em rolled her eyes and rose from the armchair.

“Who was I?” She asked the pair.

“Gwyneth Paltrow,” Emily said with a smile.

Em turned to Timothy and gave him a look. Her type? Really?

“Oh, honey,” She said, “bless your heart.”

Emily smiled and leaned in to whisper in his ear, “That’s southern for stupid.”

“You said Pepper Pots could get it!” Timothy exclaimed.

“Pepper Pots is a badass,” Em noted before turning to follow Mead.

“They’re the same person!” Timothy shouted, exasperated as Emily’s laughter echoed through the room. It only stopped when the door closed behind Em, sealing off the pair from the rest of the world.

“You have a—” Mead noted, motioning to Em’s head.

“Oh!”

Em laughed and took the card from her head, staring at it for a moment before turning to Mead.

“Do you mind?” She asked the woman, holding out the card. There were some things she’d like Langdon to not know, small as it may be.

Mead sighed, trying to sound annoyed as she took the paper.

“Half the time I don’t know what to expect with you three.”

“Have to pass the time somehow.”

“Who’s Gwenneth Paltrow?” Mead asked, opening the paper and turning it back and forth in her hand.

“Actress,” Em told her, side eying the paper and trying not to think of the dull ache in her leg, “always on about that crazy new-age stuff that makes no sense.”

Mead shrugged and pocketed the paper, “never was one for all that crap.”

“Me neither,” Em admitted, “only know the name because she got into some crazy cult shit.”

Her companion let out a barking laugh, an infectious smile crawling onto Em’s lip, “so did half of Hollywood.”

The woman showed no hint of suspicion towards Em. Then again, Mead was the type of person who knew how to control her speech and emotions until it was time to strike.

A familiar sound of a cane caught the pair’s attention as they made it up the stairs—  tap-ta-tap, tap-ta-tap. Em looked to Mead, trying to read any emotion on her face. There wasn’t… something that wasn’t much of a surprise.

Venable’s face greeted them as they turned onto one of the many upstairs hallways. Em took some satisfaction in the momentary widening of her eyes as the woman saw them. The expression quickly straightened, lips pursed as Venable tore her eyes from Em and laid them upon her escort.

“Miss Mead,” she said, voice reminding the brunette of when her parents pretended they weren’t at one another’s throats just a moment before they sat down for dinner, “May I have a word.”

Mead’s only response was a subtle nod before she turned to Em, “you know the way.”

Em offered her a friendly smile, making sure it remained on her face as she walked past Venable. Her contempt was so easy to read.

“Have a good day, Miss Mead.”

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

Langdon was standing by the fire when Em entered. It felt like he hadn’t moved since their last visit, affixed to the same spot she had left him with his hands behind his back. She took a moment to read the room as she closed the door quietly behind her.

There were no wardens in the room, meaning he probably didn’t see them in Mead’s room and that Venable most likely didn’t inform him of her suspicions. So Venable didn’t trust him… that was revealing.

“Is this another interview?” Em asked as she took a few steps forward. She imagined he already knew she was there, but her words finally forced him to turn and acknowledge her. A smile flickered to his lips as he turned to her.

“This time more of a social call.”

“Oh?” she said, a brow quirking up her forehead and a smirk finding it’s way to her lips, “Is that what you’re telling residents now?”

Langdon glanced to the floor, still smiling as he shook his head. Finally, he gestured to a set of armchairs facing the fire. She rounded them, taking the one on her right. Her hands rested on the back as she waited for Langdon to move.

His eyes were focused on her skirt, eyes slightly narrowed in thought. Her awkward gait was obvious to him, slight as the limp may be. Langdon didn’t note it, simply staring at the woman until she finally sat. Em did so with a sigh, eyes turning to the chess set that sat on a small table between them. It looked like he had been mid-game with someone.

“You play?” she asked as he sat next to her, legs crossing as he turned towards her ever slightly.

“On occasion. You?”

“I used to be good once,” She admitted with a rueful smile, hands going to straighten one of the knights, “but I haven’t played since I was a child.”

This visit felt different from the others. Langdon seemed almost relaxed, leaning back into his chair and hands free of any files. The fire crackled before them, making the world feel a little more quiet than usual.

“Why is that?” he asked. She felt his eyes on her but refused to look at him, occupying herself by fiddling with the pieces.

“My parents weren’t overly fond of spending time with me… though they pretended they did.”

“Perhaps I can reteach you.” Langdon offered.

Finally, Em’s head rose from the chess set. He watched as green eyes flickered between himself and the fire, never quite meeting his gaze.

“I’d like that.”

They set to fixing up the chess pieces, exchanging pieces that lay on the other’s side. He chose the black pieces and she took the white — she’d have to make the first move. Though, that wasn’t surprising when it came to conversations with the man.

“You’ve spoken a lot about your parents,” he noted, “what about the rest of your family.”

“Emotionally abusive father and a codependent mother,” she noted, “are a perfect equation for isolation. One that kept us from reaching out to others and ensured that my siblings would rarely return home.”

“You feared him,” he noted, taking a bishop she held out to him, “your father.”

“Fear,” she corrected, “present tense.”

“But the bombs—”

“Fear is illogical that way,” Em noted, “What about you?”

“Me?”

“What was your family like?”

Langdon paused, eyes betraying his amusement as he debated what he said next. A few details wouldn’t hurt.

“I was adopted by a family friend after my grandmother committed suicide.”

She didn’t apologize as most people did. Her eyes said enough. He expected the usual questions, the kind one would encounter in therapy. Em was debating which ones would be appropriate.

“Do you miss her?”

“Which one?”

“Either.”

Langdon sighed and placed his last pawn in place, “someone once told me that nostalgia is much nicer than true memories.”

“smart person,” Em noted, moving her first piece — a knight.

“She was.”

He was quick to counter her move, choosing to move a pawn near the outer edges of the board. The fire crackled as a log snapped in two, settling into the center of the fire with a rippling crack.

“I have to admit your quick thinking is intimidating.”

“Take all the time you need,” he reassured.

Her hands hovered over the board, fingers twitching as she ran through possible outcomes in her head. When she spoke, her voice sounded distant.

“So you can pick at my brain while it’s distracted?”

Langdon chuckled, moving a piece after she moved forward another knight, “Something like that.”

A comfortable silence filled the room as they got into the game, Michael’s movements quick while Em took more time to play out moves in her head.

“Are you sure about that?” he had taunted at some point, a devilish grin on his face. Em paused for only a moment. If she didn’t move the rook to take his bishop he’d have check in two.

“Fuck off, Langdon,” she laughed, moving the piece despite his warning. Her laugh was infectious as he shrugged his shoulders and moved another piece.

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Langdon won, naturally. Though Em had a feeling he hadn’t played fair. His smugness filled the room, leaning back in his chair with an air of content at having beaten her. It both annoyed and amused her — like when her brother beat her at Super Smash Bros.

“Another round,” she demanded and he rose a brow, sitting up in his seat. He rose an amused brow and she shook her head. “This time we play checkers.”

“Checkers?”

“I lived in the south,” she reminded, ignoring a stare that displayed how much the man was judging her, “there were Cracker Barrel restaurants on every major exit. One was right across from the college dorms I stayed in.”

“So you’ve had a lot of practice.”

“Don’t worry,” she teased, “perhaps I can teach you.”

He smiled and put the chess pieces away as she pulled the checkers out from the compartment inside the board. She set them out and waited for him to make the first move.

“Can I ask you a few questions?” Em said as she quickly countered his move. He chuckled at the symmetry of her actions and waved his hand for her to proceed.

“Why was this place designed to fail?”

The way his hand hesitated over his piece betrayed his surprise, quickly recovering and completing his move. Her pieces clicked against the board as she countered, waiting for him to respond.

The blond straightened back into the iron mask he wore around the rest of the residents. “What makes you say that?”

Answering questions with questions. That was also a game she knew well.

“This whole place was designed on the tip of a knife,” She explained, balancing a checker on the tip of her finger, “We’re just waiting to lose our balance.”

To emphasize her point she allowed the checker to fall. It clattered on top of the other pieces she had stolen from Langdon.

“And what would you do to make it better?” he posed, lips pressed into a thin line.

“Do you want me to alphabetically or categorically?”

Langdon leaned back with a short barking laugh. He stared at her with what she’d almost consider pride… the cat’s favorite mouse. He waved a hand again, prompting her to continue.

“Whatever is easier.”

The board lay between them, game abandoned in light of a more interesting chain of events. She mirrored his actions, considering which point to bring up first.

“This place was built by the rich, yes?”

He nodded, watching her intently.

“Why the hell would the rich settle for unfulfilling cubes?”

“Those cubes—”

Em cut him off with a sigh, “have all the nutrients we need but not all the calories. An extreme coupon mom would have a greater quantity and quality of rations than we do.”

The blond prepared himself for a long conversation, leaning his head against a hand that was propped up on the armrest of his chair. She stared at him, waiting for a response.

“What else?” he asked with a sigh.

“The Cooperative put in place a NASA-esk water filtration unit, but couldn’t find a way to have a self-sustaining food resource?”

“You make it sound easy,” he noted.

“It is,” She stated, “Scientists already had designs in place before the bombs dropped.”

“This does nothing to prove we intended the worst,” He nearly sang.

“Then why do you claim there is a sanctuary more equipped for this? Why is that not the standard for all the outposts?”

Langdon thought back to his first interaction with the girl. Her first accusation. He should have known she’d be trouble from the start… but perhaps he could use this to his advantage. Leaning forward, he moved another piece across the board.

He opened his mouth to speak, but Em was intent to get to her thesis — the final blow.

“You intended this from the beginning — make people desperate enough to see their true colors then pick them off one by one.”

He chuckled, twirling one of her pieces in his hands and he shook his head and stared into the fire.

“Someone’s done their research.”

“Venable and yourself are the most openly condescending people I’ve ever met… you both think you’re so smart and with this crowd that’s mostly the case.” She said with a scoff.

Em took one of his pieces, then another, “you’re so pleased with yourselves that anyone with a brain can look right through you and see your intentions. No offense.”

“None taken,” he said with a smile, “…Mostly the case?”

“Timothy and Emily were chosen for their genetics. That’s the only good choice The Cooperative has made thus far.”

“Your care for them makes you blind to their faults,” he noted, “no offense.”

“None taken.” Em said, offering a shrug as she collected three more of his pieces, “King me.”

They lapsed back into a comfortable silence. Langdon lost and as she had expected he did so poorly, immediately challenging her to another game. That meant what she had said had some effect on the man. He sought to cover his fumble with conversation as they began the next round, asking about her observations of Outpost Three’s inner-workings.

Even that conversation came to comfortable silence, Langdon far more intent on this game compared to the last. Em stared at him when he wasn’t looking, too busy playing out moves in his head. His lips would twitch ever slightly when he thought.

“Do you ever feel lonely?” she asked him, playing the question in her head a few times before speaking.

“Lonely?” He echoed, voice distant as he finally moved a piece, “I thought we already had this conversation.”

The brunette sighed and stared at the pieces for a long moment as she ran through what to say next.

“Do you ever have that feeling that something is supposed to be there, but isn’t?”

He also took a moment to think, mouth open for a moment as he chose the right words to say, “I’m afraid I am unfamiliar with the emotion.”

“You’re lucky then,” She admitted, “sometimes it’s often claustrophobic in nature… like looking for a friend in a sea of thousands.”

“I thought you said you were content with your own company?” he asked, moving his piece to the other side of the board, “king me.”

“I am, but… I can’t place it. It feels different somehow.”

He looked at her, brows knitted together as he moved another piece, “how so?”

“It’s the same yearning I feel for a sense of purpose,” she said, shaking her head and speaking before she could think. Her eyes were on Langdon, but the man could tell she was looking at something past the physical realm. “But more specific. I yearn for someone or something, but I can’t place it’s… like I’m looking at it through a fog.”

“We all left things behind in the old world,” he noted, giving her his full attention “perhaps you are searching for something you lost.”

She sighed, “but reminiscing on such things is a fruitless task. Nostalgia is only healthy in small doses.”

“Nostalgia can be good.”

“Too much of anything is a bad thing,” Em noted.

“That it is.”

A buzzing in her head made Em focus back on the game before her. The sound of pieces moving made the blond turn back towards her, out of his thoughts and back into the current moment.

“What is it like?” Em asked, changing the subject, “traveling from outpost to outpost?”

“Is that what prompted your question?” he asked, sighing as he forced his mind back on strategy.

“In part.” She admitted.

“I’d call it a time to reflect,” he noted with a sigh, “but it’s hard to think when you’re keeping an eye out for cannibals.”

Em’s gaze turned to the fire, brows bunched together at the bridge of her nose. Venable had been right. She had somewhat hoped the monsters the woman spoke of would be nothing but fear-mongering.

“It’s only been a year and people are already—”

She cut herself off. Biting her lips and shaking her head, she chided herself, “no… that’s not fair of me to say.”

“Law was the only thing keeping humankind from its unlimited cruelty,” Langdon noted, hardly phased as he got yet another piece to the other side of the board. He was a quick learner. “The outcome isn’t that much of a surprise.”

Em was quick to change the subject, “What did you see out there?”

“Nothing pleasant.”

For some reason, he wished to keep the reality from her. Whether out of compassion or a desire to keep her ignorant, she couldn’t quite tell.

“I’d like to know,” she finally insisted, “Venable has only told us so much and we’re forbidden from leaving the premise… even with hazmat suits.”

Langdon nodded. He expected as much from the two women — Venable and Em. Pausing from the game, he gave her his full attention — turning in his chair and resting his elbows on the armrest closer to her.

“The trees are barren and everything is covered in thick green fog,” he said, slow and methodical as if he were trying to recall every last detail, “the animals have gone rabid or are in the very late stages of cancer. You cannot see the sun in the sky… an eternal night.”

“What about the people?”

“Killing each other for food or simply out of paranoia. Cancer and tumors are the norm for most.”

Her arms had come to brace themselves on the arms of her chair, knuckles white and jaw clenched. She stared into the fire but did not see it, darkness clouding her vision as she was sent back into that first day in the outpost. How many of those messages weren’t their last? How many survived only to face torment? How many had she abandoned in the wastelands?

“The children?” she forced herself to ask, forcing herself to look at him. His eyes widened every slightly before he glanced away, conflicted. She watched his chest rise and fall, his eyes close momentarily as he centered himself before speaking.

“On the way here, I came across a woman,” He told her, “A young mother, with two children. They were some of the unlucky ones who were far from the blast radius to survive the fireball, but… not the radiation.”

Em’s mouth opened every slightly in shock as she realized he was crying, a single tear breaking free and racing down his cheek.

He held his hand up, the other hovering over it and tracing up his arm as he continued to recall the incident before resting at his chest, “they were covered in tumors — sores. Their lungs were burned from the toxic air.”

With a clench of his fists, he fell back in his chair and refused to meet her eye, “After a few moments I realized that the child she was carrying in her arms was dead. She was begging for us to murder her other child out of mercy… she didn’t have the strength to do it herself.”

Em didn’t even realize she was crying until he turned to her. She stiffened as he reached out a hand to her cheek, cupping it and brushing away the tear gently with his thumb.

“Did you?” she asked, voice hardly above a whisper and his hand still on her cheek.

Blue eyes refused to look away from her, “Did I what?”

“Have mercy.”

An emotion she had never seen on him before tainted his features. It made his face fall, his eyes shine in a way that wasn’t pleasant and his lips part every slightly. His hand pulled back from hers and he turned away from her, closed himself off.

“No,” he finally answered, “I couldn’t bring myself to.”

Langdon felt regret… shame.

“I doubt anyone could.”

“Why do you cry for them?” he asked.

“I have nieces and nephews,” she said, “friends and—”

A frog sat in her throat keeping her from speaking. She waited a few moments before clearing her throat and drying her eyes, forcing the unpleasant emotion back from whence it came. After a few more breaths of unprompted tears, she spoke again.

“I’m sorry for bringing up a depressing topic.”

“Knowledge is power,” he noted, “and the desire of power is in our nature.”

Langdon cleared his throat as well before turning back to the game. It seemed both of them were content to pretend the last few moments be forgotten… for now, at the very least.

“What would you do to survive?” he asked her, waiting for her to make a move.

She sighed rather loudly. Naturally, he was using interview questions to take back the power he had relinquished for but a moment. Still made her head feel light like she had whiplash.

“What would I want to do?” she asked, moving a piece without much thought. Langdon was keen to take advantage, quickly moving his piece to take over it. “Or what I would actually do?”

He scoffed, “is there a difference?”

“Of course. I’d like to think I’d preserve some of my humanity — morality and the like.”

“But in reality?”

Em opened her mouth and closed it again. What would she do? So far she had certainly become more… adventurous wasn’t quite the right word. Admitting that, however, would be giving him and, in turn, The Cooperative more information than she was willing to part with.

“I don’t know,” she said, “It’s hard to know what you’d do until you are forced to take action.”

“You like to skirt around questions,” he notes, “despite my warning against hedging.”

“You want honest answers,” she reminded, “that required introspection — especially with these questions. It’s rarely linear.”

“How do you react to conflict?” he asked, sounding like he was reading from a list. Em wouldn’t be surprised if he had all the questions memorized at this point.

“What kind of conflict?”

He sighed, trying to be annoyed but failing as a hint of a smile let itself be known, “Your answers tend towards the circumstantial.”

“C’est la vie,” Em said with a shrug, moving a piece and watching Langdon frown as she captured one of his kings.

“It certainly keeps at least one of these conversations interesting.”

Em gave him a look, “is this a conversation?”

“We’re communicating, are we not?”

“You’re asking questions and I’m talking about myself for…”

She glanced at the clock in the corner of the room, “… an hour. Not much of a conversation.”

“Therapists would disagree.”

“You’re my therapist now?

He didn’t look at her, but she could see him smirk, “…of a sort.”

The brunette leaned forward in her chair, regarding him for a moment, “Then what do you see?”

Langdon’s head quirked to the side as he eyed her, “I see a woman who hides her insecurities behind bold and intelligent words… a philosopher without students.”

Em could only laugh, sparing him an amused but unbelieving look, “You give me far too much credit.”

“My records indicate you were quite introverted and withdrawn before,” he noted, “What changed?

“When you stare at death he does not care what mask you ware,” she told him, voice distant as if it was not her own, “so why bother with pretenses and polite society?”

“Why, indeed?”

They finished the game, coming to an impasse with two kings following each other across the board. Langdon rose from his chair and wandered over to the pitcher of water from before.

“You care for some?” he asked.

“Yes, please.”

He turned to her with a Cheshire grin, “what happened to polite society?”

“Born in the south, remember? We mind our P’s and Q’s and say ‘bless your heart’ instead of ‘go to hell.’”

“I hear it’s quite pleasant this time of year,” he said, turning with two glasses of water.

“Hocus Pocus,” she noted.

“A staple in my house during Halloween,” he noted, a sad smile coming to his lips.

She rose and took a step forward as he approached her, hand extended to take the glass from his hands. A thankful smile turned tense as too much pressure was placed on her bad leg. After sitting for so long, she had forgotten it was there. She leaned back on her good leg and regulated her expression.

Langdon didn’t seem to notice and she pulled back and carefully lowered herself into the chair, waiting for him to move and do the same. Placing the glass on the table beside her, she turned to make a comment about a third and final match only to find him crouched on the ground.

Red coated his fingers, a small puddle on the ground the size of a silver dollar. One of her stitches must have torn. Of all the timing…

“You’re hurt,” he noted, looking up to her, “where?”

“Oh,” she tried to write off, “it’s embarrassing, but I think that’s— “

His eyes were deadly as he stood and stepped towards her, a growl in his throat, “we agreed not to lie.”

With a sigh and a roll of her eyes, Em lifted up her skirt to reveal the comically small injury that sat three inches above her knee. As she feared, unbinding the bandages revealed the stitching had come undone.

He kneeled down in front of her, hand hovering over the wound. “What happened?”

She tied the bandages around it, resolving to cauterize it later as she knotted the ribbon extra tightly around her leg. Langdon retreated as she threw her skirts over it once more, obviously not wanting to let the incident rest or for her to leave his office without treatment.

“A fucked up side-effect of conditioning.”

Langdon sighed, “this is why I said—”

“I’d be better off acting on my anger?” she snipped, “oh, yes, I remember. You were quite insistent on that point.”

Em averted her eyes, staring past him and into the fire with venom. From the corner of her eye, she could see Langdon sigh, shoulders falling ever slightly.

Her shoulders tensed as she felt a hand upon them, finally turning towards Langdon as she realized he refused to pull away. He wanted to speak, she could tell that from the way his lips pressed together. Why was he speechless? Langdon had a response for everything.

Green eyes couldn’t look away from him— his knitted brow and the frown that marred his features. His hand rose to her cheek and all she could feel was her heart beating in her ears as the heat rising up her neck. His thumb ghosted under her eyes, over the tired circles where tears had been not even thirty minutes before.

This strange and witty woman… why did she have such an effect on him?

Hands curled around the back of her neck as he moved her hair from around her face. The pieces she had pinned back had begun to fall from their confines.

His fingers pulled her forward, thumb hovering under her chin. She felt like she was under a spell, unable to move. Did she want to move? All she could feel was her heart trying to force its way through her chest.

She smelled sweet— lavender and earth overwhelming him in the best way. His eyes flickered between her mouth and her eyes, his neck craning to the side as he felt her breath on his face.

Then, she suddenly tensed. Breaking free of the spell, she pulled back— jumping off the chair and past him to the door. She had let her guard down and… she didn’t know what to feel. The hammering in her heart told her to run, but—

“I’m leaving,” She whispered.

Langdon took a step towards her, a hand outreached. He moved as if he were approaching a wounded animal, slow and tentative.

“The interview isn’t over,” he said, hand coming gently around her wrist.

“Yes,” She growled, realizing something that made her steel herself against him and tear her hand from his grasp, “it is.”

“This could forfeit your place—” he began, cursing himself as he realized how he sounded.

“So be it. I don’t care.”

She tried to open the door and his hand went instinctively to keep it from opening. He needed her to understand. He needed—

“I’m not here to hurt you,” He all but pleaded, “take a seat.”

“…You’re right—” she finally said after a moment. His grip on the door loosened and a smile of relief came to his face, tenseness leaving his body.

The door slammed into his head as she threw it open. With a grunt of pain, he fell back and gripped at his head. When he looked up a satisfied smirk was on her face, the door blocking her body from him like a shield.

“— My anger is best used outward instead of inward.” She said, disappearing back into the hall. By the time he stumbled to the door and threw it open once more she was gone… like she had never been there in the first place.

The thought of that terrified him.

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

Em was… well, she wanted to pace, but the newly cauterized wound on her leg would have protested too much. So there she was, seething on her bed. Her hands dug into the comforter, pretending it was someone’s throat.

At least this time she had been sure to put away her knife first. Then again, the now blistering skin took care of any destructive and impulsive urges she may have.

She had been blind, the desire for having her life mean something clouding the reality of logic and fact. Langdon wanted her to depend on him. He wanted her to think she was special. Em wasn’t. She was an average person with a tragic childhood. A dime a dozen case.

Coco probably got the same treatment. They were both single and desperate to survive, desperate to be wanted. Langdon weaponized sex.

… But that wasn’t what it was. Not to Em, at least. It was vulnerability, understanding, trusting someone with—

He was playing with their emotions. All their emotions. Part of her was willing to be strung along. Was certainly an easier route.

With a sigh, she hung her head in her hands. She didn’t know what she wanted anymore. To live or not to live… wasn’t that the fucking question? She was supposed to graduate this year, get a shitty job with shitty pay, and live in a shitty apartment. It’s why she had sacrificed so much, stayed in a less than happy place in the hopes that one day—  

A knock at the door pulled her from the spiral. Straightening her back and clearing away her misty eyes, Em turned to the door.

“It’s unlocked,” she informed the person on the other side.

“That’s new.”

Emily’s head pocked through the door before she slipped inside, closing the door behind her after checking her six, “You didn’t come to finish our game.”

The bed dipped as she took a seat next to the brunette. Her worry was transparent on her face, lip quirking to the side and eyes focused on Em’s face as she waited for the woman to say something. “We were worried.”

Em could only shake her head, “I can’t do this anymore.”

Though her eyes were focused on the floor, she could feel Emily’s hands cover her own. A familiar squeeze curling around her hand.

“We’ll make it through this,” Emily assured. It did little to convince Em. No matter what the brunette did, she couldn’t shake the feeling of being on the wrong path.

“And then what?” she couldn’t help but ask, teeth gnashing with every word, “we leave here and play the game somewhere else in some mysterious sanctuary or play Mad Max as we slowly die from cancer?”

For once, Emily didn’t have a retort.

“I can’t live like that anymore!” Em hissed, finally turning towards her companion, “My whole life I’ve lived one day to the next just to say I made it another day. I can’t! I— “

Her companion could only stare at her friend, mouth open but no words. What could she say? Emily hadn’t much thought about what would happen next, the cost of living. It was quite like what doctors faced, wasn’t it? Determining whether quality of life justified the means to the end. What was the future when they faced the end of the world?

Em shook her head, “I just can’t.”

Colour me Curious Part 2: Monday

Just another Ben Solo High School AU! 

Warnings: Swearing 

The only thing worse than a regular Monday, was the first Monday back after the winter break. It never mattered how long the holiday was, you just never felt rested; Christmas created the perfect opportunity for drunk family members to strangle you for information and force their, unwanted, opinions down your choked throat. The holiday was made worse by the pre-celebration preparations, where your mother would go on an intense cleaning spree creating a (Y/L/N) house reformation. Everyday household items such as the straighteners were deemed too offensive to be allowed to be within two miles of a guest. Therefore, your mother took it upon herself to move them to a nondescript location, without informing you that she was doing so, just to save you the embarrassment of having to explain to your relatives why you owned such a perverse item in the first place. Over the years you had gotten used to this strange behaviour and just let her be, but this time she had forgotten where she had hidden the appliance. So, when Monday morning came around and your, normally gloriously crisp locks, were stuck in a bun looking like a tumbleweed had made a home atop your head, it made an already shitty day into one that included some equally shitty hair. Thanks Mom!

And so, you sat at the lunch table with your group; Finn, Rey and Poe, shifting your hair around hoping to keep it in order, at least until the end of the day, and at the same time, actively trying to avoid being dragged into one of Poe’s daily school football rants. Although, one of your best friends he was a bit of a hot head regarding the sport, and ever since Kylo joined the team, with around a hundred pounds more muscle and an extra 8 inches in height, challenging him for captaincy, he became even more insufferable than usual. Finn usually listened intently, his doe eyes fawning over his ‘friends’ passion but even now he seemed a bit sick of listening to Poe’s anti-Ren speech, yawning and rolling his eyes.

This continued on until Rey eventually threw her hands up in the air and smacked them dramatically on the table, gritting out “Poe, please stop, my head is going to explode if you mention Ren’s ‘bad attitude and poor tactics’ one more time”

“All I’m saying, is that if a guy disappears for years, he can’t just come in expecting to be Captain, it just doesn’t happen, right (Y/N)?” For some reason he smacked your shoulder confidently while smirking at you, expecting some support.

“Oh please, as if she’s gonna be on your side, (Y/N) is the biggest traitor here, giving the Big Emo, ‘stalker’ eyes, every time he walks past. Haven’t you guys noticed how she’s become a massive book worm recently, hanging around the library, where Kylie spends all his spare time?”

“Well, now that you mention it…” the boys looked at one another and then back at you, with curious looks on their faces.

“Rey! What the fuck, why is this about me now? I have not been giving him ‘stalker’ eyes” and in an attempt to defend yourself, you sacrificed your last chip, chucking it at her with immense force and scrunching your brow in a way that let her know that you were pissed.

And Rey being Rey, was willing to challenge that look. picking the chip up from the table, looking you dead in the eye and crunching it, signalising that she did not give a fuck. “I can’t listen to football talk anymore, and if I have to sacrifice you to make him stop, I will. Sorry (Y/N) nothing personal.”

Sometimes you really hated her.

 Watching the silent chip filled stand-off that was occurring between the two of you, Finn, wanting to avoid being covered in lunch meat before his fifth period Trig, attempted to diffuse the situation

“So, who watched the Witcher over break?”

  “I did, it was great, loved Geralt” You replied, eager to change the subject but unfortunately, it looked as though you weren’t going to get out of this mess yet.

  “Of course you did, your love of Ren has exposed your cave man kink, you love an angsty man” Poe teased, apparently, he decided he didn’t want to be on your team anymore and high-fived Rey, forgetting their past beef as she joined in, deepening her voice and widening her shoulders:

  “Hm fuck, (Y/N), I love you, be Mrs Ren”

  “I’d die for you (Y/N), I’m ignoring you to keep my heart safe”

  “you like it when I grunt, I’ll show you a grunt”

  It was at this point that you regretted munching down all your chips with such haste, and noticing the unfortunate lack of ammo you, instead of attacking the duo, proceeded to flip both of them off and dig your head into the table, with your bun whacking it dramatically in the process. However, this seemed to only give the pair more confidence:

 “I only ever hunt for my own food and I kill my prey simply by raising my left hand threateningly, I can provide for our family (Y/N).”

“By the grace of my goth training I will not be seduced by Coldplay.”

 When the bell went off, you practically skipped to biology, moving away from the trio, still holding up your middle fingers, as Rey and Poe practically crawled to class, wheezing the entire way. It was Monday lunches like those that really made you thankful that none of your friends were interested in bio, with both Rey and Poe focusing on Physics and Finn avoiding sciences as though they were the plague. Its not that you didn’t love them and their bantering, but sometimes when you were in a mood, like today, it was hard not to get a bit salty about the whole situation and just need a break.

A break to work on your Solo experiment. It was on the walk to class when you thought about whether Kylo would acknowledge you today, that you realised that maybe Rey was right about your stalker eyes. But now was no time to back down. You knew that with Kylo it was all about consistency, he was like a jittery animal; jump at him and he will almost definitely run for the bushes and avoid you for life, but if you approach him slowly, letting him gain some familiarity, maybe throwing in some “sksksk-ing” as though he were a cat, he might let you in. So, in that logic you assumed that if you popped up around him now and again, he might realise that you mean no harm. Or he would avoid you further, only time would tell.

Reaching the class room and plonking down in one of those high-up science stools you began to ponder; why did science feel the need to make its seats absurdly tall. They were those types of seats that were, normally, exclusively used at hipster ice cream parlours or smoothie bars. They always made sitting down so uncomfortable, giving you absolutely no back support and your knees would consistently knock off the metal bar of the desk leaving an unflattering gum stain on your jeans, for the rest of the day. Maybe that’s why everyone found science hard to grasp, because they spent the whole period trying to contort their bodies in a way that would make sitting comfortable.  It was during that very intelligent inner monologue that Kylo stomped in and plopped into his seat, on the other side of the class, crunching his knees under the desk. You could practically hear his six-foot frame groan at being pushed into such an awkward seat. That couldn’t be comfortable you thought, before diverting your attention from the dark prince to Mrs Barr, ready to be riveted by some spores, fungi and bacterium. Delicious.

And all was going swell up until the end of the period; your notes were tidy, you only lost interest a couple of times but you seemed to understand what she was getting at, then she started talking about the next assignment. Partner work was the first issue with the task. It wasn’t ideal but you always knew that Jess would be willing to group up, but then, issue number two, Mrs Barr pulled a fast one and said that she would be picking the pairs. Well, fuck. Finally, for issue number three, what did the woman do? She only went and paired you up with Kylo, just before sending the class away, to go figure out in their teams what they were going to do their projects on.

To some people this would have been a godsend, but when you saw his gaze latch on to you and his frown deepen, you couldn’t help but want to crawl into a hole and die. Yes, you wanted to get him to be your friend again and yes, you suppose this would help, but you wanted the reconciliation to be done on your terms. Your slow and steady pace. This caused the process to go from a crawl to a sprint and quite frankly, it was probably going to give you whiplash. And if that didn’t Kylo suddenly being right in front of your face would. Somehow despite his large stature, he could move incredibly quietly if he put his mind to it. It made you wonder if he stomped down the hallways for theatrical purposes, maybe you could ask him when he stopped staring daggers at you. But it didn’t look like he would anytime soon.

 “Oh, Hi, Kylo” you stuttered out to him, tilting your head up as far as it would go, he was much taller up close.

 “We are gonna need a study space, my house is empty, Leia’s working. So, assuming you can walk ten feet without falling we can work there.”

 Wow, maybe Poe was right about him lacking some social skills.

“Yep, that’s fine” you replied in a less friendly tone than before, sure you wanted him to be your friend, but you weren’t going to be a doormat.

 “Fine, four o’clock, don’t be late.” And with that he stomped away in a cloud of rage.

 Well, maybe you made a mistake in wanting to be his friend again. You supposed you would find out after school.

~This cool Kid wanted to be tagged and you can be too @shockwavee (But Idk if I’m doing it right)

Three Poems — Tongo Eisen Martin

Kick Drum Only

All street life to a certain extent starts fair

Sometimes with a spiritual memory even

Predawn soul-clap/ your father dying even

Maybe I’ve pushed the city too far

My sensitivities to landfill districting and minstrel whistles/

White supremacist graffiti on westbound rail guards 

-all overcome and reauthored

The garbage is growing voices

Condensed Marxism 

modal gangsterism for a warrior-depressive

Underpass in my pocket

because I am a deity

or decent bid on the Panther name 

revolutionary violence that chose its own protagonists 

or muted stage of genius

A merciful Marxism        

Disquieted home life 

Or metaphor for relaxing next to a person 

Who is relaxing next to a gun

I stare at my father for a few seconds 

Then return to my upbringing

Return to the souls of Ohio Black folks

Revolution is damn near pagan at this point

You know what the clown wants? The respect of the ant. 

Wants a pen cap full of bullets

Wants to see their ancestors in broad daylight

I am not tired of these rooms; just tired of the world that give them a relativity 

My only change of clothes prosecuted

The government has finally learned how to write poems

shoot-outs that briefly align…

that make up a parable

white bodies are paid well, I posit

do white men actually even have leaders?

all white people are white men

white men will only ever be metaphors

all I do is practice, Lord

A rat pictures a river

Can almost taste the racial divide

Can almost roll a family member’s head into a city hall legislative chamber

Knows who in this good book will fly

I have decided not to talk out of anger ever again, Lord

Met my wife at the same time I met new audience members for our pain

We passed each other cigarettes and watched cops win

A city gone uniquely linear

Harlem of the West due a true universe 

 “I will always remember you in fancy clothes,” my wife said 

so here I sit… twisting in silk ideation

  My rifle made of tar

My targets made of an honest language

This San Francisco poetry is how God knows that it is me whining 

Writing among the lesser-respected wolves

Lesser-observed militarization

Dixie-less prison bookkeeping/I mean the California gray-coats are coming 

lynch mob gossip and bourgeois debt collection

I mean, it’s tempting to change professions mid-poem

in a Chicago briefing, a white sergeant saying, “blank slate for all of us after this Black organizer is dead.”

standard academics toasting two-buck wine at the tank parade

bay of nothing, Lord

  nuclear cobblestones, gunline athleticism  

and the last of the inherited asthma

children given white dolls to play with and fear

facial expressions borrowed from rich people’s shoe strings

I can hear hate

And teach hate

And call tools by people names

And name people dead to themselves

no one getting naturalized except federal agents soon 

carving the equator into throats soon

I’m sorry to make you relive all of this, Lord

pre-dawn monarchy 

friends putting up politician posters then snorting the remainder of the paste

minstrel scripts shoveled into the walls by their elders

my children sharpening quarters on the city’s edge

For these audiences

I project myself into a ghost like state

For these gangsters, I do the same

every now and then, we take a nervous look east

Sleep becomes Christ

Sleep starts growing a racial identity

do you ever spiral, Lord?

has the gang-age betrayed us?

be patient with my poems, Lord

So much pain

there is a point to crime… 

There has to be if race traitors come with it

 Lord, is that my revolver in your hand?

Better presidents than these have yawned at cages

Have called us holy slaves

Filled the school libraries with cop documentaries

Baby, I don’t have money for food

I have no present moment at all

/

I Do Not Know the Spelling of Money

I go to the railroad tracks

And follow them to the station of my enemies

A cobalt-toothed man pitches pennies at my mugshot negative

All over the united states, there are

Toddlers in the rock

I see why everyone out here got in the big cosmic basket

And why blood agreements mean a lot

And why I get shot back at

I understand the psycho-spiritual refusal to write white history or take the glass freeway

White skin tattooed on my right forearm 

Ricochet sewage near where I collapsed 

into a rat-infested manhood

My new existence as living graffiti 

In the kitchen with

a lot of gun cylinders to hack up

House of God in part

No cops in part

My body brings down the Christmas 

The new bullets pray over blankets made from old bullets

Pray over the 28th hour’s next beauty mark

Extrajudicial confederate statue restoration 

the waist band before the next protest poster 

By the way,

Time is not an illusion, your honor

I will return in a few whirlwinds

I will save your desk for last

You are witty, your honor

You’re moving money again, your honor

It is only raining one thing: non-white cops

And prison guard shadows 

Reminding me of

Spoiled milk floating on an oil spill

A neighborhood making a lot of fuss over its demise

A new lake for a Black Panther Party

Malcom X’s ballroom jacket slung over my son’s shoulders

Pharmacy doors mid-slide

         The figment of village

                     a noon noose to a new white preacher

Wiretaps in the discount kitchen tile

-All in an abstract painting of a president

Bought slavers some time, didn’t it?

The tantric screeches of military bolts and Election-Tuesday cars

A cold-blooded study in leg irons

Leg irons in tornado shelters

Leg irons inside your body

  Proof that some white people have actually fondled nooses

That sundown couples 

made their vows of love over   

opaque peach plastic

and bolt action audiences     

Man, the Medgar Evers-second is definitely my favorite law of science

Fondled news clippings and primitive Methodists 

My arm changes imperialisms 

Simple policing vs. Structural frenzies

Elementary school script vs. Even whiter white spectrums

Artless bleeding and

the challenge of watching civilians think

     “terrible rituals they have around the corner. They let their elders beg for public mercy…beg for settler polity”

“I am going to go ahead and sharpen these kids’ heads into arrows myself and see how much gravy spills out of family crests.”

Modern fans of war

    What with their t-shirt poems

    And t-shirt guilt

And me, having on the cheapest pair of shoes on the bus, 

I have no choice but to read the city walls for signs of my life

                                                                                     /

The Chicago Prairie Fire

First, I must apologize to the souls of the house

I am wearing the cheek bones of the mask only

Pill bottle, my name is yours

Name tagged on the side of a factory of wrists

Teeth of the mask now

Back of the head of the mask now 

        New phase of anti-anthropomorphism fending for real faces

Stuck with one of those cultures that believes I chose this family

I am not creative

Just the silliest of the revolutionaries

My blood drying on 

   my only jacket

just as God got playful

the police state’s psychic middlemen

Evangelizing for the creation of an un-masses 

An un-Medgar

Blood of a lamb less racialized

or awesome prison sentence

Good God

Elder-abuse hired for the low

dog eat genius

Right angle made between a point

On a Louisiana plantation

And 5-year old’s rubber ball 

3 feet high and falling

like a deportee plane 

to complete my interpretation 

(of garden variety genocide) 

I am small talk

about loving your enemies

A little more realistically

About paper tigers 

And also gold…

I need my left hand back 

I broke my neck on the piano keys

Found paradise in a fistfight

Maybe I should check into the Cuba line

Watching the universe’s last metronomes

some call Black Jacobins

Just wait…

These religions will start resigning in a decade or two

Some colorfully 

Some transactional-ly

In a cotton gothic society

Class betrayal gone glassless/ I mean ironically/ my window started fogging over too 

Wondering which Haiti will get me through this winter

Which poem houses souls

Which socialist breakthroughs

Breakthroughs like ten steps back

Then finally stillness

Stillness

Then stillness among families

a John Brown biography takes a bow

I’m up next to introduce Prosser to Monk

I remember childhood

Remember the word “Childhood” being a beginning 

Scribbling on an amazing grace 

I rented this body from some circumference of slavery

Remember being kicked out of the Midwest

Strange fruit theater

Lithium and circuses

Likeminded stomachs 

The ruling class blessing their blank checks with levy foam…

                            with opioid tea 

Sentient dollar bills yelling to each other pocket to pocket

Cello stands in the precinct for accompanying counterrevolutionaries 

My mother raised me with a simple pain

A poet loses his mind, you know, like the room has weather

Or first-girlfriend gravity

Police-knock gravity 

Mind-game gravity

Or revolution languishing behind 

The sugar in my good friend’s mind

“The difference between me and you

Is that the madness

Wants me forever”

A pair of apartments

Defining both my family

And political composure

Books behind my back

Bail money paved into the streets

Playing:

Euphoria

Euphoria

Cliché

Bracing for the medicine’s recoil

Sharing a dirty deli sandwich with my friends

Black Jacobins

Underground topography

Or grandmother’s hands

Psychology of the mask now

Teeth of the mask again

—

Originally from San Francisco, Tongo Eisen-Martin is a movement worker and educator who has organized against mass incarceration and extra-judicial killing of Black people throughout the United States. His latest curriculum on extrajudicial killing of Black people, We Charge Genocide Again, has been used as an educational and organizing tool throughout the country. His book of poems, Someone’s Dead Already was nominated for a California Book Award.

Survey #257

I hope y’all are behaving and staying inside. This’ll blow over, folks.

Have you ever met a guy for coffee? No. How often do you get called on your home phone? We don't have a landline. Do you feed your leftovers to your dogs? We don't have a dog anymore. When we had them, we very rarely did. Mom did so more than me, and I wouldn't give them anything if they were begging. Except chicken nuggets with Teddy. There was no denying him chicken nuggets. Do you like salt on your popcorn? Yes. What tricks does your pet do? Well one is a snake and my cat doesn't know any because since when do cats obey you lmao. Do you believe in psychics? No. When you hear the name “Ginger” what do you think of? Jason's old fatass dog. What is the worst damage that your car has seen? N/A Who is your least favourite character on your favourite television show? In Meerkat Manor, fuck that, I loved them all, lmao. Well, I remember I was bitter towards Rita/Amira for killing Rocket Dog's pups, but even then I knew that was meerkat nature to ensure the survival of their own offspring. That '70s Show, definitely no one. I adore all the characters. For Fullmetal Alchemist, honestly, there are SO many that I don't remember probably even half of them. BUT, from what I do remember, Nina's dad whose name evades me. You watch it and you know why alkdsjf;kaldjw. Have you gotten sick this year? No. When was the last time you got a new ringtone? Eons ago. Where do you put your keys when you get home? They're always in my purse. What’s your phone background picture? Lock screen is a cute as fuck picture of Mark, home screen is two meerkats. If you could move to any country, what would it be? Realistically, Canada. Have you ever seen a snake in the wild? Plenty of times. Do you have any posters, paintings or other artwork on your walls? A LOT. My walls are cramped; it makes it feel homey to me. Would you ever take a trip to space if given the chance? Nah, too long of a journey. How do you cope with anxiety? Watch YouTube more attentively, listen to music, nap, take one of my anxiety meds. Are you expecting any phone calls or emails? No. Who makes you laugh the most? In my "real life," my dad. Out of anyone that includes those I don't actually know, probably Shane Dawson. He's a Mood, constantly. Do you know anyone with the same middle name as you? Oh, plenty. I have like the most common white girl middle name out there. What did you have done the last time you saw a dentist? I had a cavity filled. What does a successful relationship look like to you? Both ends are happy, communication is ideal and easy for the pair, both feel loved and accepted fully, and each has healthy freedom. What do you like to put on your baked potato? The ordinary butter, cheese, and bacon bits. What field of science interests you the most? Genetics. What’s the closest shop or restaurant to your house? A Zaxby's and McDonald's are tied, being right across the street from each other. What was the most memorable birthday you’ve had? My 16th is the one I remember best, but not in a good way. What is the best house you’ve ever lived in? Our last house, aesthetically. Right in the woods and relatively pretty, yet simple. Do you look in the mirror before you leave the house? Yeah. Have you ever seen someone quit their job in a dramatic way? No. Do you know why your parents named you what they did? No. I think Mom just liked the name, though. What do you like to dip your fries in? Ketchup, mostly. Is your house clean or messy right now? It's actually really clean right now. We've had a lot of help around the house recently thanks to family and friends with Mom's cancer, and then I've been much neater and attentive to cleanliness than usual because 1.) it's my responsibility to ensure it is for Mom's health and 2.) I dropped out of school so literally have zero excuses to not be doing at least one productive thing. What was the last email you received? That wasn't trash, it was from my old major's dean in school. She was trying to comfort me and give me options on what to do versus leave, but yeah. I'll 100% give it to the school that they deeply and sincerely care for their students, I just needed to go. Do you know someone who speaks without a filter? lmao me. Well, depends, I guess, actually. I know when to keep my mouth shut in some situations. What’s your favourite kind of museum? Science museums. Especially those with d i n o z. Do you believe in alternate universes? I'm open to it, especially with the mandela effect theories, but I don't think so. Whose house did you last visit? My older sister's. What games do you play on your smart phone? Pokemon GO (if I'm in an area w/ Stops to get balls) and Dragons of Atlantis. What kinds of decorations do you put up at Halloween? We don't really decorate anymore for Halloween, or holidays in general. How many tabs do you have open right now? Two. What’s something you’ve been meaning to do but keep putting off? Try more sites to hopefully get a poem I wrote published, but that crippling fear of rejection tho. :^) What’s the first thing you check on your phone at the start of the day? The time. Have you ever flown a kite? Yeah, I loved that as a kid. I’m guessing you’ve probably been asked this before, but which do you prefer - Coca Cola, or Pepsi? Coke. Pepsi is gross. Has your phone ever gone off in the middle of a class at school? No. Did you go to your school dances? Did you dance with anyone? Just two proms. We didn't dance tho because the music was shit. What’s your relationship with the last person you talked to on the phone? What was your conversation about? Like, talk-talked, no texting? Uhhh who was that. OH YEAH, my sister. My mom didn't answer her phone so she just called me to make sure she was okay. The last time you washed your hair, did you use conditioner?
 No, I never do. It just adds oil to your hair, and mine is naturally oily enough. Do you have an item of clothing that reminds you of someone? Tell me about it, and the person it reminds you of. I have a lot, none positive. If the last girl you texted told you that she was pregnant, how would you respond? Ask her who the fuck I need to kill. How would you react if your mother told you that she was pregnant again? Well considering 1.) she's past menopause and 2.) she has serious ovarian and Fallopian cancer, I'd say that's pretty impossible. Who do you have the most text messages from? Sara. The last time you skipped school, what was the reason?
 Uhhh if you mean "skip" as in I had seriously no realistic reason not to go, I think I was just really tired. I tried not to skip unless I was having serious mental health issues. When did you last see or speak to someone you dislike? Why do you dislike this person? I actually don't know who that would be. When you listen to music, do you generally sing along, or just listen? I rarely sing. I just listen. Do you have any of your exes as friends on Facebook? Yes. Does more than one person like you? *shrugs* Has your partner ever accused you of cheating, when you actually didn’t? No. Who was your first love? Do you ever miss that person? Jason. Of course I do sometimes. Other times I know it's probably for the better we have nothing to do with each other anymore. Do you like your middle name?
 I mean it's pretty, but boy do I wish it was more original. If your hair is long, would you ever think about having it cut short? Or, if it’s short, would you like to grow it long? I doubt it will ever be long again. Would you consider your parents to be strict? Dad never was at all; Mom sorta was when I was little. Do you have a mirror in your room? On the back of my door. Have you ever worked in food service? No, thank God. Do you often stay in your pajamas all day? I almost always do, unless I have to go out somewhere. I pretty much never leave my house ever, forget just quarantine, so like... why make more laundry. What are three YouTube videos you would like to film soon? N/A Do you ever listen to country music? No. What is your most severe allergy? Pollen. What’s the largest library fine you’ve ever had? Oh wow, no clue. I haven't been the library in millennia. Have you ever lost a library card? *shrugs* Name three literary characters you feel resemble you the most. UH yikes. This requires too much thought for me rn. Name three cartoon characters that resemble you, and say why. Ummmm I still don't know. Do you have a good doctor? I haven't seen her enough times yet to honestly say. Mom knows and likes her well, though. She's fine so far. Do you wear a watch every day? If so, what color is your watch? No, I never do. Does your phone alarm ever scare you? No, it's very peaceful. Which department store do you shop at the most? Wal-Mart. How old were you when you got your driver’s license? I'm 24 and am yet to have it. Do you have regrets? A good handful or two. Do you ever curl your hair? It's too short to do so. Do you know anyone who has coronavirus? No, and I pray I never do for my mom's sake. Out of all the big cities you’ve visited, which has/have been your favorite? Chicago is the only big city I've ever been it. Was pretty damn dope, though. Do you like dreamcatchers? I mean, they're cool. I don't believe in them being magical, though. Have you ever made a dreamcatcher, and if not, would you like to learn? No and no. Who was your high school’s biggest bully? I don't remember. What color was your graduation cap and gown? Red. Did you keep your graduation cap? I think I did. Did you decorate your graduation cap? Nope. What is your favorite part of nature? The animals within it. Do you use Photoshop? Yes. Favorite photo editing app on your phone? I don't have an editing app. Did you love or hate college? Well, considering I dropped out three times, guess. Favorite class in high school? Art. Favorite class in college? Idk. Probably Writing. Class you hated the most in high school? Math. Class you hated the most in college? Painting brought me the most stress. Do you know how to write in calligraphy? Not technically. Have you ever had a pen pal? No. Do you prefer brownies or cookies? Brownies. Man I could go for one. Favorite Girl Scout cookie? Those Reeses-ish ones. Did you ever go camping as a kid? No. Do you have hormone issues? No. Have you ever gotten a misdiagnosis because your parent(s) lied about you? Er, no? A shitty doctor has misdiagnosed me, though. Which Barbie doll was your favorite? I didn't even know there were "types"... Do you wake up to an alarm? No. When did you go to bed yesterday? Like, 8-something... I rarely make it past 9:30 nowadays. Do you live in a city, town, or in the country? The country. What color is your toothbrush? White. When was the last time you had a nightmare? Yesterday while I was napping. Woke up shrieking and scared Mom out of her skin. Tainted my mood almost the rest of the day. If you had a terminal illness, would you want to know? No shit I would. What was the last thing someone called you other than your real name? I don't know. If you could meet anyone who lived before your time, who would it be? I have no clue. Is there a candle in the room you are in? No. Are you currently taking any prescribed medication? More than I like. Do you have bad anxiety? If so, do you take any kind of medications for it? Yes and yes. Who was the last person you felt you were wasting your time on? I don't know. One thing you’ve experienced that you thought you never would have? A suicide attempt. What was the last thing someone said to you that kept repeating over & over in your head? Ugh. If a random person were to look through the photos on your phone, is there anything you’d be embarrassed about? No. If you could, would you work from home? Do you think that would make you more or less productive? No no no no. I need a reason to leave the house. I'm way more productive away from home anyway. What were you like in middle school? "The weird kid" describes it pretty well. If you could give one charity a million dollars, what charity would you donate money to? YIKES!!!! Now that's a question. Probably something for suicide prevention/awareness. What is something you’re surprised hasn’t been invented yet? The cure for cancer. It's incredible, just how many "possible" cures have been identified in nature, yet you like... hear NOTHING about it afterwards??? My conspiratory and "the medical industry just cares more about money" ass wonders about that a lot. Most disturbing movie you have ever seen? Paranormal Entity or The Rite. Has a life goal or dream ever come true for you yet? If yes, what is it? If no, do you think you’ll achieve it? No. And probably not. What one thing has always bothered you, but seems to bother no one else? Hm. I'm sure there's something. Do you still own a VCR and VHS tapes? No, pretty sure they've all been sold. Did you ever build furniture forts as a child? Yep. What kind of dog is your favorite? Pretty sure I'm biased towards beagles. Are the majority of your friends male or female? Female, I think? Have you ever considered dropping acid? Noooo sir. Would you consider yourself to be mature? Mostly. Describe your music style: I like unique alternative stuff. Catchy, heavy riffs do me in easily, too. I like well thought out, dark, and impactful lyrics. Are you close to any of your aunts/uncles? Not very. Have you ever had a seizure? No. When was the last time you were in a hospital? For myself, 2017. I think. Do you go on vacations a lot? I never do. Are you self-conscious around other people? Very. At your workplace, are you required to wear a uniform? N/A Have you ever witnessed a physical fight in real life? Huh, good question actually. What was your GPA in high school? 4.2/3 or something. Do you use a lot of hair products? I don't use any. I mean, besides shampoo. What is the most amount of money you’ve spent at one time? My own money, I think $300 on a tattoo. What is the best pizza place out there? Domino's. I'm such a basic bitch. Do you know how to play any odd instruments most people can’t play? Nope. When was the last time you used a disposable camera? I think the zoo visit in 5th grade. What is your favorite book series, if you have one? Can't say I really have one. It definitely used to be Warriors by Erin Hunter, but I haven't read any in maaaaaany years. Do you have any celebrity autographs? Nah. What is your favorite color of clothing to wear? Just black. Admit it – you want a Snuggie. What design/color? I got a black one one Christmas, lol. They're honestly not all that great. Do you prefer movies at home or movies at the theater? THE THEATER. I actually enjoy watching movies in the theater. It's just the vibe, I guess, and the size of the screen so you take in everything. How many songs does your iTunes have? Just over 1k. Its memory is maxed out, oof, so if I want a new song, I have to thin the library out. Do you take a shower in the morning or the night before? I've been taking showers more often in the morning, lately. It's a nice, refreshing start to the day. I'm just too tired and unmotivated to at night. Who’s your youngest teacher? N/A When’s the last time you had a rock, paper, scissors match? Wow, no clue. What’s your favorite anime? Fullmetal Alchemist. Did you cry when Ash let his Butterfree go with the other Butterfrees? Oh I probably did, but THEN AGAIN, the female was FUCKIN PINK so I'm sure I was also happy for Butterfree lmao. Even as a kiddo, I knew pink was The Shit. Skinny, flared, ripped, or faded jeans? Skinny, ripped ones. What are you excited for? Just honestly, nothing in the even remotely near future. Nothing in my life is exciting rn. Are you part of the Farmville cult? Never played. Have you ever stood on a frozen solid body of water? YIKES besides like, small puddles, definitely not. I'd be scared to. Which person from way back when would you love to hang out with? Jenna, an old best friend, came to mind first here. It'd be great to catch up with her. She called me in the hospital after my suicide attempt despite not talking in absolutely forever, and I'm never going to forget that. Does your family use a real pine tree or a plastic one for Christmas? Plastic. Literally the only positive of the real ones is the smell. Otherwise, it's a mess that dies too quickly. Do you have any foreign exchange students at your school? N/A What’s your second language? I'm not fluent in it, definitely not anymore, but the language I took for four semesters was German. Is it uncomfortable for you to take showers in glass stalls w/out curtains? OH MY GOD I would positively hate that. Even IF I had a decent body. Did you understand Shakespeare? I was alright. What was the last shot you got? It was a numbing agent into my gums. They had to do it like... seven times. Apparently, I'm just like. Really hard to numb. Ever gotten cavities? Yeah. Do you use hair ties as bracelets? I don't even wear hair ties. What was the last school project you did that you couldn’t wait to turn in? Uhhh... I don't remember. Have you ever graded papers? I actually have; I was helping a teacher on work day. I used to go back to my elementary school a lot to visit my favorite teachers. What was your favorite year of school up to this point? Maybe like, junior year of high school? Or senior. I don't remember which one of those I enjoyed more. I just remember I loved my art class, I had great grades, my relationship was strong, yada yada. What’s the latest you’ve ever woken up? Like 5-6 PM. Had a busy night and that evening was a complete panic attack because my system was so thrown off. One thing I DON'T miss from high school: how bad my anxiety was. Can you recite the alphabet backwards? NOOOO I cannot. Like, at all. Are you a sucker for foreign accents? Some, yes. Do you do yoga? Not anymore.

pride and prejudice and robots

pairing: bruce banner/thor (marvel cinematic universe)

rating: general

word count: 2333

summary: Thor makes the (questionable) decision to follow his brother's advice, and for once, things actually don't go all that bad in the end. (aka a thorbruce high school + library au no one asked for cause i'm a mess)

(my birthday gift for my love Elijah / @nevillelongsbottom happy birthday perfect!! ilysm and hope you enjoy this mess 💕)

read on ao3

Today is the day. What day, you ask?

Well, you probably wouldn’t believe it when you looked at him, but Thor enjoys spending time at the campus library.

Sports is a large part of his life, and he wouldn’t trade that for anything, but even he needs some peace and quiet, after all.

Well, as peaceful as a library full of anxious and/or sweaty high school students can be.

When Thor first learned Shakespeare was on the curricular, a collective sigh could be heard through his class.

But Macbeth was far more thrilling than he could have ever imagined.

Once he finished it, he spent many free periods in the nooks and corners, in the trashed, weird smelling beanbags scattered throughout the library, devouring Romeo & Juliet.

That is, until he found a distraction.

Said distraction wears a nametag marked Bruce, and is a student from the science department who works in said library part time.

Thor first spotted him from his reading corner, during the mundane act of shelving books from a metal cart.

Why would this boy be a distraction from classical literature?

Because he���s cute.

The kind of cute that creates a weird knot in Thor’s stomach and makes him think of said boy all day, instead of homework.

Bruce wears glasses and odd sweaters that are slightly too big.

Bruce has a mop of curly, dark hair that jumps up and down as he wanders through the corridors.

Bruce taps his left foot and scrunches up his nose when he can’t find what he’s looking for.

Maybe watching a person this much without actually interacting is unhealthy.

That’s what Val told him.

“Quit being weird and just tell him he’s cute.” was her exact words.

“But what if-” Thor would start, until she interrupted him, “What’s the worst thing that could happen?"

“I could die!”

This earned him one of her signature eyerolls.

Okay, maybe he had been a little, tiny bit melodramatic. And he understood her point.

So today, he has decided, is the day.

He’s going to talk to Bruce.

Thor’s grabbed a copy of Sense & Sensibility to check out, cause he might as well kill two birds with one stone.

That’s what Loki says, anyway.

Jane Austen’s works has become his newest obsession, after discovering Pride & Prejudice.

Steve, Sam and his other friends from the football team didn’t really understand his endeavors in literature, but supported him nonetheless.

They’d probably be ecstatic if they knew Thor has a crush, cause they’ve tried, and failed, to set him up with someone for ages.

Guess romance isn’t really his strong side.

Bruce gives Thor a polite, indifferent smile - which he returns, nervously, of course - before lifting his brows in mild confusion.

“Jane Austen, huh?”

Thor feels like screaming, but he has to remain calm, goddamnit, say something and don’t stare at him like a weirdo!

“Uh, is uh. Yeah, uhm. Is something the matter?” he manages to stutter out.

If Val was here, she would slap him.

“Oh no! I mean, sorry.” Bruce replies, seemingly just as awkward as Thor is. “I was just surprised. You don’t really look the type to read romantic novels. No offense.”

Thor finds himself chuckling, a bit more relaxed, and shrugs, albeit a bit stiffly.

He bites his lip before saying, “None taken.”

Bruce doesn’t reply, but simply checks out the book and returns it to Thor.

“Thank you!”

That was too excited, calm down, it’s just a book.

Bruce smiles warmly, readjusts his glasses, “Uh, no worries. I mean, it’s my job, so.”

Thor nods awkwardly.

“Yeah. Of course. Uh, I’ll see you another time, then.”

He doesn’t give Bruce the opportunity to answer, but simply turns on his heel and walks out in embarrassment.

Val isn’t going to be happy with him.

But hey, that was a start. Right?

...

So, Thor may have asked the infamous Tony Stark, who he’s learned is Bruce’s best friend, about what literature said cute boy enjoys.

This idea came from his brother, and really, things usually don’t go well when Thor follows Loki’s advice.

But this doesn’t involve fire, breaking and entering, or nudity, as most of his other ideas do.

So it can’t be that bad, can it?

And Tony had been more than willing to lend Thor the information.

“My Brucie’s got an admirer! Thank fuck, finally!” he all but yelled in the middle of the hallway.

Thor’s used to Loki shenanigans, but it always surprises him to see traits similar to his in other people.

So today, Thor’s on a quest, searching for something called Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep?

Huh.

Not exactly a catchy name in his opinion.

But he’s learned to never judge a book by it’s cover. Or title. Or resumé.

“You looking for something in particular?”

Thor jumps and tries to play it off casual, which just ends up making him look like an idiot, he imagines.

Bruce is looking at him with brown eyes and a semi-awkward stature.

To be honest, most of him comes off as awkward.

Which is in no way a bad thing. In fact, it just makes him even cuter in Thor’s mind.

When he expressed this to Loki, it was responded by an exaggerated “ugh” noise.

Most of what he says has this reaction, really. Typical Loki.

“Oh, uh Bruce!” Thor says, probably a tad too loud for a library, but Bruce doesn’t mention it. “Well, actually, yes! You know where I’ll find this title?”

Bruce’s mouth turns into a shy smile when he reads the paper slip.

“I sure do.” he replies, and releases something similar to a giggle.

God, he’s adorable. Thor’s mind needs to function normally.

Get yourself together!

“Come with me, it’s in the science fiction section.” Bruce says, already walking, with Thor in his heels, “It’s one of my favorites actually.”

“Really?” Thor exclaims dramatically, like he totally hadn’t snapped up this exact information from his close friend to get this awkward boy to notice him.

The things he does for love.

“Yeah” he replies, in a quiet voice, but his eyes are lighting up, as if he feels he should be hiding his excitement.

Why would you ever hide your passion?

“Anyways, here you go,” Bruce interrupts his brain blabber, “You wanna stamp that out right away?”

“Oh well! Now that you’re here, maybe you could help me with some other titles?” Thor hesitantly ends his sentence, and proceeds to rummage his pockets for the rest of his sticky notes.

Bruce simply nods and eyes him curiously.

“Ah!” He finally says, hands Bruce the notes and tries not to fidget with his hands too much.

Bruce’s smile grows in size, lifts an eyebrow, and responds, “Lucky for you, we’re in the right section now.”

He turns around and pulls out one book after the other.

It’s quite mesmerizing, the way this boy clearly knows the many shelves like the back of his hand.

Once he’s done, he hands them to Thor and pushes his glasses up a bit, scrunching his nose.

Oh god, can he get anymore adorable?

“You have a strong theme going on here,” Bruce says with a chuckle, “All classics.”

Thor tries to act casual.

He likes to think he’s succeeding.

“Well, uh, I’m trying to be more cultured, you know?” he finally says, mentally slapping himself two seconds later. Cultured?

Val will be extremely disappointed in him.

“But uh, uhm, I’d like to check these out then!” he continues, and quickly turns to the desk before Bruce can get another word in.

This is what he gets for taking Loki’s advice. He acts like an idiot around the boy and then flees instead of doing anything about his feelings. What Bruce must think about him, not good things surely.

Thor should've known better.

...

It’s been two weeks since the incident.

The incident being his last interaction with Bruce.

Thor’s decidedly avoiding going to the library now, his place of comfort, cause his anxiety about the shorter boy is getting the best of him.

Besides, he’s got plenty of reading to distract him now.

That’s a good thing. Right?

Loki doesn’t think so.

In fact, he’s just been all but thrown out (from his own room) by his younger brother.

“I can’t concentrate with you moping around! And reading those weird ass books!” he yells behind the slammed door.

Thor wonders how much concentration is needed to listen to that sad music Loki’s so fond of.

But he also makes his own costumes - cosplays?

They’re quite cool, Thor thinks, and he knows Loki appreciates his compliments on them, as much as he tries to hide it.

“But I need to study!” he answers his brother, “My laptop’s still-”

The door’s opened once more, the dark haired boy pushes the laptop into Thor’s arms, then says, “You can study in the library. And take that guy out, what’s his name, Brian?”

“Bruce,” Thor mumbles as an answer, “But he doesn’t-"

“Don’t you dare.” Loki says, giving him a cold glare and shutting the door in his face. “How would you know?! You can’t say he doesn’t like you when you haven’t tried!”

Thor wants to say more, but ultimately gives up with a sigh.

If there’s anything he’s learned from their childhood, it’s that Loki will never, ever let him win an argument.

And he does have a point, admittedly.

So ten minutes later, the blond boy finds himself at the library front desk.

It feels almost nostalgic.

After two minutes of slightly uncomfortable, silent waiting, Bruce emerges from an unmarked door behind said desk.

Ugh, he’s still cute, Thor decides. No change there.

The curly haired boy looks slightly startled by the sight of him, but relaxes once more.

“Thor.” he states, flashing a small smile. And boy, he can’t help but smile back fondly.

“Hey! Hi, I mean… You know my name?” Thor ends up saying.

He’s met with a faint chuckle.

“Yeah, I do. You showed me your library card, to check out, remember?”

Oh, right.

Thor can imagine Loki and Val giving him a double eye roll.

“Right!” he exclaims, shaking his head at himself, “That, uh, that was a stupid question.”

Bruce shakes his head, but switches the subject, “So, you enjoying the books you got last time? Haven’t seen you in a while.”

He noticed he hasn’t been around?

Thor almost wants to blush. Get yourself together, you fool.

“Oh, yes! Science fiction might be my new thing.” he chuckles lamely, trying to be funny, “I’ve finished the book about androids, actually. It’s quite fascinating”

Bruce nods, “It really is. I’ve always liked that stuff a lot, robots and that.” he pauses. Lifts his shoulders, sinks them again, seems like he doesn’t know what to say, but tries anyway, “You know, the note you showed me? With all the books we found?”

Thor nods hesitantly. Should he flee now, like he always does? He can’t really say what’s coming.

“They’re all favorites of mine. And I, uh, told Tony - Tony Stark - my friend, about this, cause I thought it was funny you suddenly wanted to read all these. Cause it’s not your usual genre.” he pauses again, licks his lips.

Oh no.

“Bruce! I, uhm, I’m sorry.” Thor says.

Might as well admit to his stupidity before the short boy goes any further, save himself the embarrassment.

“Sorry?” Bruce asks, raising both eyebrows in confusion, “What are you sorry for?”

Thor takes in a breath, “I kind of, sort of, asked Tony for a list of your favorite books. To impress you.”

He frowns at himself. Bruce frowns.

“Why would you want to impress me?”

“I like you.”

A moment of silence.

“What?”

“You’re cool and smart and cute, fuck it, you’re adorable, and I’ve been too scared to talk to you, and Val’s told me for three months now to talk to you, and I thought this would start conversation, and now-”

“Thor!” Bruce exclaims, quickly realising his voice is far from the level appropriate for a library.

They receive a judgmental look from a group working at a nearby table. He collects himself, “Hold up, three months?” he asks, now almost a whisper, “You… like me. You’ve liked me for three months?”

Thor nods, not daring to look the brunette in the eyes.

Bruce smiles. A huge, wide smile. Looks like he’s going to burst out laughing.

It’s like looking at the sun, almost.

“I like you too.”

Thor can’t help but widen his eyes at that statement.

Bruce continues, “Thor likes me. One of the school’s top players likes me!”

“You like me?”

“Yeah,” Bruce says, almost like a happy sigh, “I’ve liked you since, like, first semester.”

Thor can’t believe this.

He feels like pinching himself.

Surely, he’s going to wake up from this dream to his brother trying to shave all his hair off. Again.

“You have?”

“Yes, you idiot! I mean, I… I never thought you’d notice me, really.”

Thor shakes his head now.

This can’t be real, but it is.

And now he returns the bright, wide smile to the shorter boy, feeling like he might combust.

“Bruce,” he says, taking the boy’s hands in his, giving him the most serious look he can muster, “Will you go on a date with me?”

He nods to himself, looks to their hands, up to Bruce’s face once more, lets out a tiny “Please.”

“Of course. ‘Course I will, you know that.” the brunette replies.

Thor literally jumps and does a weird, excited dance, which earns them more looks from the other students, but he could honestly not care less.

“Great! Perfect! I- Yes! Thank you.”

Bruce chuckles, grabs a sticky note, and puts down what looks like a phone number.

Thor gladly takes it.

“I like ice cream.” he tells him, and Thor nods eagerly.

“And robots?” he guesses, feeling proud when Bruce nods and squeezes his hands.

“And robots.”

David & Goliath

My grandfather, on my Mother's side, immigrated to Canada from Italy in the 1950's. For years I thought I was Italian until one day my Mother explained that her real father (who was Danish) had died when she was seven and that Ralph was actually my grandmother's “companion”. At seven I had no idea what a "companion" was, nor did I care. All that mattered was whether I would inherit his talent for cooking and gardening.  As a child, Italy seemed like a mythical land filled with beautiful palaces and amazing desserts.

When I finally had the opportunity to visit the land of my grandfather's birth, I made it a point to seek out all the places I'd heard about as a child. So, it was, that while I was in Florence, standing in front of the statue of David I was suddenly reminded of an episode in grade 9 when for three solid weeks I was bullied by a fellow student three times my size who I believed would destroy me.

In the Old Testament, the story goes that David, who is just a boy, takes down the 6'9" Goliath with nothing but a sling shot after King Saul, supposedly over 6' himself, is too afraid to challenge the giant on his own.

As I stood there examining the statue, I couldn't help wondering why Michelangelo had sculpted the boy to be so huge when Goliath was the giant?  At 17 feet, David stands three times larger than an average man. Is his size a metaphor for his bravery?

Growing up, I never considered whether I was brave or not until the summer before my thirteenth birthday when my parent's separation marked me (at least in my mind) as an oddity. I was the first one I knew of to come from a broken home, and to me, this was a truly embarrassing fact. I was ashamed of what I perceived to be a major failure on the part of my parents, and worried that everyone would think less of me because of it.  I wanted my family to be idyllic and though they were far from that, at least while we were all under the same roof, I could pretend. To save myself the embarrassment and shame of having to explain to kids I knew why I was no longer living at my old house on Belmont, and instead in an ugly apartment building across town, I opted to attend an all girl’s Catholic high school where no one knew me. For almost three months, I lied about where I lived. I pretended the apartment building I walked to every evening after school was where I babysat someone's kid. I never let on that my parents weren't together or that I was struggling with the reality that they were headed for divorce.

Catholic girl's schools, I soon discovered, harboured two types of young women. Those who longed for small classroom education among a female community of likeminded individuals, and those whose parents were forcing them to attend a school they hoped would reform them. Possibly attending Catholic school was a last resort ordered by the court. In any case, I was soon the target of gang terrorism brought about by answering questions in class – namely in English where I seemed to excel in understanding Shakespeare. Somewhere between The Merchant of Venice and Romeo and Juliet I became the object of abuse. Short and obnoxious, I was an easy target for a small but imposing group of girls who were significantly bigger and louder. The leader of this particular gang of delinquents was an overbearing, unusually tall girl named Susan Podansky. Susan had thick brown curly hair and a large set of yellow teeth that filled her face when she smiled. Not that her smiles were warm and generous. When Susan smiled, there was foreboding in the air.  She reminded me of the witch in Hansel and Gretel licking her chops as she prepared to eat everything in her wake. Her neck was thick, her hands were large and her voice was low. “Guess who’s going to die tonight?” she’d whisper in my ear as I scurried from Math class to Science. The whole time I was dissecting my frog I imagined my innards splayed across the grass beyond the school.

It occurs to me now, many years later and infinitely wiser, that there was nowhere for Susan and her gang to actually pommel me. The school was small and well supervised and the yard was too. Unless their aim was to be caught, there was no way they could beat me up and get away with it. At the time, this logic escaped me. Instead I cowered in classrooms, stayed late for extra help in things I was already excelling at, and volunteered for everything from library duty to bible study. If something needed to be scrubbed, painted, sorted or filed, I signed myself up.

There were rumours going around about Susan and her gang. They set fire to garbage cans. They stole from variety stores. One of them had a friend who’d been decapitated on the roller coaster at Crystal Beach. Each story was more shocking than the one before. What started out as careful avoidance, turned into full blown terror.

Ironically, I’d known Susan in grades 3 and 4 when I had attended Holy Family elementary. I was not Catholic, but the school was close to our house and my mother deemed it more convenient than the public school that was a good deal further away. My parents were never concerned about what rubbed off on us. During the day I learned about the Virgin Mary and the Holy Ghost and after school my mother played Rock and Roll albums and allowed me to read, Mad Magazine, and Creepy comics. Susan had been in my class back then. She was already bigger than the rest of us, but harmless. Once she even invited me to her house. I remember her mother was pleasant enough as she cooked something in the kitchen that smelled foreign and delicious.  Most of the kids at Holy Family were Irish or Italian, but Susan was Polish. To me that made her exotic. But then again, I was the daughter of Wasps attending a Catholic school. Everything was exotic to me. In the two years we shared a classroom at elementary school, we’d never clashed. In fact, in a childish act of solidarity, we both called Mrs. Flint, a substitute teacher, Mrs. Flintstone and were called to the office. We were equally contrite and that was the end of that. What prompted this new vitriol, aside from a seemingly innocent love for Shakespeare, I’ll never know. Whatever it was, her threatening demeanour was scary and all consuming.

At home, my mother couldn’t help but notice that I was at school later than usual. I’d enter the hallway out of breath, eat dinner, then retreat to bed. After a week of this she coaxed the truth out of me with cupcakes and before I knew what I’d said, she was on the warpath. This was exactly what I didn’t want. I’d been warned by Susan that if I snitched on her, she’d make my life even more miserable. I begged my mother to leave it alone, but she was determined. My mother had lived with an abusive step-father for a time before Ralph, and bullying wasn’t something she tolerated.

The next day I was called down to Sister Rita Mary’s office where two seats were arranged in front of her desk. I could see from half a mile away that large head of messy hair belonging to Susan. I timidly entered and sat down next to her. Sister Rita Mary smiled, “It’s come to my attention that there has been some nuisance between the two of you.”

Nuisance? Between the two of us? I could see where this was heading.

“It’s my belief that you just don’t know each other well enough, so my solution to this misunderstanding is to arrange for you to sit next to each other in all of your classes from now on.” Then, with a smile on her face she dismissed us from her office and closed the door.

Susan grinned, “This oughta be fun,” she announced. “Guess who’s gonna have a funeral?” And then she galumphed off to class.

Sitting beside Susan was excruciating. In math she broke my pencils. In English she poured ink on my assignment. But it was art class where she really crossed the line. I’d been working on a painting for several weeks and had almost completed my masterpiece when she and her gang “accidentally” spilled paint all over the canvas. “Oh, sorry!” she feigned, and then left me to absorb what had just happened while the teacher insisted I stay and clean up the mess.

Two other girls in my class – Vicki and Sarah shook their heads in disgust. “This can’t continue.” they stated. “That girl has to be stopped.”

“I agree,” I muttered as I crawled about the class on my knees cleaning tempra paint off the floor, “But how?”

That afternoon at lunchtime the three of us hunkered down at a table in the cafeteria to eat. No sooner had we settled when Susan came bounding over, knocked my tray off the table proclaiming me a moron and warning, “Better watch yourself tonight.”

I could feel my face flush and the bile rise in my mouth. I’d learned one thing from comic books, and that was how things were never what they seemed. The meek were often strong. The strong were often scared and bullies could be undermined. Before I knew it, Sarah was standing.

“What did you say?” she asked her.

For a moment I saw Susan blanch. She was shocked. This was unexpected. All she could manage to say was, “What?”

“You heard her, " Vicki demanded, also now standing. They looked like two Davids' to Susan's Goliath.

"What's wrong with the baby?" Susan taunted, "Needs other people to stand up for her?"

"No," I said rising to my feet, "I can stand up for myself."

She hesitated. Everyone was looking at us. Even the lunchroom nun was staring in disbelief.

“You'd better watch yourself.” Susan growled just low enough for my table to hear.

“Or what?” I asked

Susan just stared at me.

“Or what?” I repeated, “You’ll kill me? Beat me up? Hit me? Bury me? Why wait until tonight? Come on. Get it over with. Do it. Come on. You want to hit me? Hit me.” I was on a roll. Words were ammunition from my slingshot and I was on the attack. Next thing I knew, Vicki and Sarah chimed in.

“Yeah,” they echoed, “You wanna fight? Let’s fight.”  

Susan blinked. The cafeteria was eerily quiet. All eyes were on us.

“You’re not worth it,” Susan grunted, as she backed out of the lunchroom alone. And that, was the end of that.

For a moment, I felt 6' tall knowing that I had faced my biggest fear and somehow come out the better for it.

Vicki turned to me, "One Goliath down." she smiled. "Listen, I'm having a sleep-over this Friday. Ask your parents if you can come?"

This was the moment. If I could stand up to Susan, I would finally have the courage to say, "Just have to ask my Mom. My folks are separated."

I waited for the judgement that never came. Instead she simply said, "Cool. I'm adopted. Come by at 7:00."

The Jisatsu Experiment: Prologue-- Himura University

Summary: Years after Conan leaves with no explanation and Haibara becomes a distant Miyano Shiho, Ayumi graduates and heads off to Himura University-- as far away from Tokyo as she can get. She finds it hard to leave Conan and Haibara behind her despite Mitsuhiko and Genta moving on, but the mystery she's about to take on is going to begin unraveling a past she'd repressed, and it's very possible she's bitten off more than she can chew. Just how deep does this case run? Shinichi may just have to step in, but can he and Shiho stomach the mess Ayumi has gotten herself into, or save her from herself?

Okay so Homesick will be updated when my boyfriend gets around to sending me the beta, but in the meanwhile, he's a story that's been kicking around in my head for, well, YEARS. It's heavily inspired by both Nicole, the Winter Wolves Dating Sim (honestly my favorite of all time, so worth the $5) and Mystic Messenger. However, I left this story open to being a one-shot in case there is no interest! So the mysterious, scary parts can be read as references to Ayumi's past with Conan and Haibara and how it's keeping her tied down. Please enjoy!

Read it on AO3

Read it on Fanfiction.net

Things had changed over the years- not by a lot, not all at once, but little by little.

The Detective Boys never disbanded, nobody moved, nobody died, but Ran got her own place after she graduated. Kogoro's detective agency grew, and he had a few interns here and there that ran their time and carried on like clockwork. Eri had moved back in, though the two weren't sleeping in the same bed again (not that they ever said, no, Ayumi had merely made the guess because there was a warmth that wasn't quite there yet). Shinichi-niisan and Heiji-niisan were still best friends; Sonoko and Kazuha and Ran and Sera, they all hung out, had girl's nights. Haibara (Miyano? Shiho? Ai?) would join them when she wasn't working on something with the professor (who she still lived with, who was still like a father to her). Mitsuhiko found the time to balance the Detective Boys and the Science Club-- he was their president, after all, got Teitan High further than it ever had gone before in the finals despite the lacking company. Genta was still their club's strong arm, though what was once body fat was now muscle and height. He towered over most boys in their school by their first year, scared a few third-years back when. His love for food had been channeled into a love of cooking, his hobby when he wasn't solving a case or manhandling criminals. Conan had disappeared. That was that. She'd come to accept it. It still broke her heart.

Ayumi, she felt alone these days. Genta and Mitsuhiko were still there but…

Genta had a girlfriend now, small and sweet and every bit a cook as him, though her skills strayed in the area of sweet-making. Mitsuhiko would deny it until he was blue (Haibara had hurt him, hurt him so bad, and Ayumi was the only one who understood because she'd felt it too, and that pain held him back, more than he let on, and Ayumi supposed he kept it all in while she only mourned to herself) but there was a cute girl with big glasses and a sincere smile who was always looking at him. (He liked her, Ayumi could tell, but he wasn't taking that plunge and she didn't blame him).

She was the only girl left in the Detective Boys, and the only member left who had no other hobbies-- well, she dabbled in makeup as homage to a memory long past, but it was nothing she spent time on. She sorted through and selected cases, she gathered information, she put clues together as much as she could until she had Mitsuhiko's and Genta's help. The days passed, and though each hour took three to pass, she could tell the years were moving quickly, so quickly that it would almost seem right-on-time if she were to receive a letter from Conan. But she didn't. He'd left them a note and hadn't said goodbye, just that he'd be in touch but he never was. She shouldn't have been surprised, not after the fifth empty year (that's what she told herself when she started crying for no reason after a case, when she'd hide away in the bathroom for a few minutes because only Sato would see her there and know, and nobody else needed to see, nobody needed to worry, she was fine, she was fine).

Shinichi, kind as he was, tried to fill Conan's shoes, they could all tell. He was their self-proclaimed mentor, a friend and a protector (there was a fear in him and a fury she only saw when they were in danger, something she could never quite place). He taught them and molded them for a year before he seemed to back off, and she wondered if that was because he knew he couldn't replace Conan, or because he'd deducted that they all felt he couldn't. Besides, he was probably tied up with Ran-neechan. Last she'd heard, he'd moved into that apartment with her when she'd taken the leap from the agency. Haibara, she seemed to keep her distance. Sometimes Ayumi thought she wanted to reach out, but that outstretched hand would retract, and she would be cold again, and eventually it stopped killing her that she wouldn't (no it didn't, she was just used to it, expected it; Mitsuhiko wasn't there yet).

Ayumi was a social butterfly, but butterflies hardly ever stayed in one place, and she flitted from one group to another without ever truly belonging, just long enough to know names and faces. This was why she and Mitsuhiko were so alike, she'd shut down, too.

Come their third year, Ayumi was closing cases all on her own. Mitsuhiko and Genta came when she called, but she tried not to (she was scared that eventually they wouldn't come). She wondered if Shinichi knew all the trouble she was getting up to (she wondered if he cared-- why? Why did it matter if he cared?) He had to hear about it through the police, or deduce that it was her from the nameless papers drawn up hours after she'd closed her cases. She shrugged off the thought (but there were eyes in her dreams, odd ones, like a memory that she's so curious to touch but terrified to recall).

Regardless of the people and the cases and the criminals and the failures, she could put her cases on her resume, and that meant she'd get into a good university. Somewhere far away, somewhere near a beach, somewhere suburban and away from Tokyo. So she took Himura University's offer and didn't bat an eye at the distance. Her mother and father cried and fueled her packings full of microwavable food (it was enough to make the seven-year-old Genta she once knew salivate), and Mitsuhiko and Genta squeezed the daylights out of her and all three of them stood at the train and wept for an hour straight, right up until the train was making its final call and she had to go.

(Haibara and Shinichi hid a few aisles over, clutching badges they no longer wore as she cried and he pretended not to notice for her sake-- and for his.)

She got set up in the dorm room easy enough. She made her bed, hung some pictures (she debated setting the frame of the Detective Boys, all five of them, on her nightstand, and instead hid it face-down in her drawer). It took a few hours for her roommate to arrive, but she was beautiful and tan and had green eyes that sparkled when she said hello. Her name was Akiko Nishimura. They shook hands and something warm started chipping away at the cold patch where Indigo used to be.

She was scouting out her semester's classrooms and got lost when she ran into Katashi Sasaki-- and she nearly died when she looked into his eyes and saw Conan's. No glasses, just blue, familiar all the same. His hair was styled differently, more of a western cut and as yellow as the sun, but his face and his lips and his ears and his eyes… She dropped her books and he cocked an eyebrow at her and said "I was gonna ask if you needed help with those. Guess that answers my question." She'd gone red in the face, huffed and said:

"Thank you, I'm okay, though."

He tapped her head with her Math textbook and said: "Liar. Where are you headed?"

The rest was history.

She was studying on the second floor of the library, brushing up on her English and failing miserably when a boy sat down across from her. Brown eyes, auburn hair- a foreigner like Katashi, but less American, more European. He cracked a book open, glanced up at her, blinked, then turned his attention back to his textbook with a yawn. They didn't speak, though the uncomfortable air compelled every cell of her body to. She tried to concentrate on English, sound out a difficult word, but she kept stressing the R and couldn't say the L. She grimaced. "I can practically hear your brain imploding. I suggest dropping the class and studying a different language." And that was the first thing Yori Smartass Sata ever said to her. She'd glared and reminded him to be polite to strangers and returned to studying. Five minutes later, he'd proclaimed himself her tutor.

Takumi Ikeda was a frail, cowardly boy who reminded her of Mitsuhiko the first summer after Haibara and Conan had left-- a shut-in gamer who slept in the day and lived for the nightlife his roommate-less dorm-room afforded him. He was as pale as the moon itself, bright enough he nearly blinded her when she first saw him stumbling out of the nearby cafe with layers of bags under his eyes. Despite the lack of sleep, his face was rounded and baby-ish, cute with the round glasses that were falling off his nose. His large baggy sweater dipped over his shoulder as he passed by her with a murmur about "finishing Devil Souls". He'd dropped his wallet, and she'd spent the rest of the day deducing what dorm-room was his, determined to return the small bit of yen and the student ID she'd found inside. It'd taken her until the early evening, but she'd knocked and interrupted his playthrough of the newest Sunshine Valley RPG…. so it was only fair she stay and help him farm with the tricks she'd learned from the previous games.

She hadn't meant to stumble into the football locker rooms, she really hadn't, but the tan Osakan guy with a wide cocky grin and a mouth full of wit she wanted to stuff with his dirty socks- Youta Oshiro- didn't seem to have any intention of letting it go. She had the unfortunate luck of being in his Math class and in his English class and even free during the time she'd set aside in her schedule for lunch. "Caught you sneaking a peek earlier, ya just have to ask, ya know." He'd taken to clinging at her side, like he thought she had a crush on him or something, and it drove her up a wall. The other personalities she'd been used to, but a guy like him was new territory in an already-new situation, and she grew more disgruntled each day. He knew Akiko, apparently. Grew up in the same town, though they didn't speak much. He used it as an excuse to get closer to Ayumi, though. He ate lunch with her and flashed his muscles (which he certainly did have as the star football player, she'd admit), and he asked her questions about class (was actually kinda helpful when she didn't get something, almost symbiotic). She was starting to get attached to him, hardly fought against it when Katashi joined them. They were rivals? Or something. They butted heads, and she wagered it had something to do with Katashi's dad being a cop and Youta's being a shady lawyer with suspicious sources of information. She wasn't sure, but she was starting to feel at home (she could see Genta and Mitsuhiko going back and forth over the picnic table as Agasa Hakase settled them down).

She'd gotten calls from home a few times by the third week. Most were from her parents, who found the time to call despite their work schedules, but the occasional call from Genta or Mitsuhiko would trickle in. They asked how she was, if she'd taken up any cases, if she was making friends (great, not really, and more than she'd thought possible). Mitsuhiko's classes were going well, extremely so, of course, and he was confused by the attention he was getting from complete strangers (all girls, and Ayumi wondered how a boy as smart as Mitsuhiko couldn't see that the ladies were flocking to him, and wondered if maybe he was willingly ignoring it for modesty or something more painful). She'd laughed and told him to spend some time being more social; he declined initially, but she knew he'd fold. Genta was in culinary school and having the time of his life, learning new dishes, learning new tricks with knives (the thought of which made her nervous in the worst way). Neither had taken up any cases, necessarily, but the towns surrounding their schools were quiet, at least not as rambunctious as Tokyo had been. Hearing their voices was like smelling a candle that carried the scent of home, or feeling a warm blanket fresh out of the dryer. It brought tears to her eyes, and she sat on the side of her bed stifling her sobs because she didn't want Mitsuhiko or Genta to hear, didn't want them to worry because she was fine.

Akiko came home to find her leaning over her knees, burying her head in her hands and whimpering with the phone on End Call. She'd sat beside her and rubbed soothing circles into her back. "It'll get easier," (spoiler: actually, as this story unfolds, it only gets harder) she murmured, and "you've got friends here too" (another spoiler: some might not actually be friends). Ayumi leaned into her shoulder, wiping the tears from her eyes and forcing a smile. For the moment, she wasn't alone, maybe wasn't for the first time in a long time. "Hey," Akiko picked up her phone and playfully tossed it in the air for good measure, grinning at Ayumi's red-rimmed eyes. "Why don't I give Youta a call? He knows the best ice cream place and he won't tell me, but maybe he'll tell you if we guilt him with your big sad puppy eyes!"

"Akiko-chan! That's so mean!"

"Don't worry, don't worry! He owes me anyway! I did his essay last week and he still hasn't paid me."

A small bead of sweat dripped down Ayumi's head.

It took Youta only a few short minutes to arrive at their door, a scowling Katashi in toe for some reason. Ayumi didn't mind; she took it as a sign that she was meant to be with these people right now, and that was okay. Youta wrapped an arm over her shoulders and argued with Katashi about the statistics of crime in Japan and other things she had a hard time following, and Akiko clung to her other side and egged either end on like a referee who was biased (depending on who she thought was winning) and dirty. Ayumi stood, surrounded by the chaos feeling oddly serene. Whatever tears had been in her eyes before were gone, for the moment, maybe for longer, and she'd be thankful for the whirlwind she found herself at the center of right now.

She didn't notice the black car parked across the street, or the familiar eyes that haunted her dreams watching her from behind the cracked window.

alright let’s go lads time to inform u on the bois

viviette delacour

yall know her

she’s a model who’s almost finished her senior year and she’s gonna continue modelling as a career for as long as she can

it doesn’t really matter either way cause her family is fucking Stacked

she’s also a superhero because 1) she wants to help people but also 2) it’s an escape from the pressures of always being in the spotlight. even though being a hero gives her a lot of attention, no one knows it’s her, so she can pretty much act how she wants

her hero-self is a bee theme and the public took to calling her queen bee so she just went along with it

she wears a ring that she uses to transform and she’s super stressed whenever she has to take it off for modelling but she makes sure it’s on her person if she can help it. the ring is magic obviously so if the argenti got their hands on that ?? uh yikes

vivi is super anal about keeping her secret identity an actual secret and isn’t about to go telling anyone, even her closest friends if she can help it unlike some people we know

she lives in the downtown area in a place called glaycier which one of her mothers is the mayor of. the place is very classic france in terms of architecture and just general vibe. it’s the place she usually keeps safe and doesn’t usually need to leave for other areas for whatever reason

with the impending war, of course, she’s been making an effort on the frontlines in all areas, but she sometimes isn’t available as her modelling work continues and she also needs to make sure her identity is still intact

she’s the type of hero that doesn’t get super angry easily, but when she’s angry at you, even if she’s in the middle of saving you, you’ll Know

possible connections & stuff

pls give me her fellow heroes they can know each other’s identity or not i don’t mind, i just need a squad for her to get exasperated at

colleagues !! modelling friends or even just people in entertainment she’d probs know of them at least

hestia seasonaire

yall know her too lbr

she’s a demon and a faery or was anyway which can be a Bad combination but she never used her powers for evil she inherited her mother’s niceness much to the dismay of daddy demon

she preferred not to spend time at home and would instead go out and pretend she was a normal human or something and get a taste of regular society and all that fun stuff. as much as she loved her powers she thought living on the surface would be waaaaaay better

very enthusiastic and preppy and loves gossip so she’s always just “tell me eVERYTHING” and genuinely likes to listen to people

was probably a cheerleader at demon high school

she’s super nice and everything thinks she’s incapable of harming anyone or anything but she would probs gladly roast her father alive

when the aliens first invaded, hestia and rosie went out to see if they could stop them since they’re powerful demons and all, but they were unprepared and so they’re pretty much dead now but still live on as ghosts

bold of the argenti to assume that’d stop hestia tho

she tries to help as much as she can from the afterlife, like seeing if missing people are dead or not and passing that information on

the gossiper inside is still alive and so she’s always finding out everything about everybody, like your grandma ?? yeah she’s telling her how you used to shove gummy bears up your nose while watching barney

possible connections & stuff

ghost friends !! people she spends time with in the afterlife

old demon buddies she knew from school or something if she can she’d probs come and visit !!

people she met when she was gallivanting around on the surface who didn’t know she was a demon faery princess and just thought she was a cool human girl but sURPRISE she died and now you’re just finding out who she really is

noire seasonaire

aND ANOTHER ONE U KNO

aforementioned daddy demon is her uncle

her own father has always vied for the title despite being the younger brother but noire isn’t interested in any of that stuff, she just wants to make potions and do magic and live her life

is very fascinated by the world on the surface but has never been allowed to leave home for very long at a time, and so she’s probably only met a few people once or twice

everyone sorta assumes she’s the “normal” seasonaire but surprise bitches she’s making love potions and practicing resurrection rituals in her basement

her mother ?? isn’t around anymore. she was used to conceive a child and once noire was born was just sorta tossed away

her entire room is like a giant library. need something obscure ?? noire probably has a book for that

when the argenti invaded she wanted to go help hestia and rosie but hestia was just “hONEY NO IT’S OK WE’VE GOT THIS” and now feels super bad like she could have done something if she was there even tho she would’ve just died too

and so she’s dedicated to resurrecting hestia and rosie. it’s mostly just bc she loves them and doesn’t want them dead, but also bc she feels responsible

she’s also put her foot down against her father and basically had a giant demon tantrum in order to be allowed on the surface to help the fight. she still mostly helps from home but a lot of people know about the tiny demon princess who’s ready to die for them

possible connections & stuff

demon buddies !! people she knew growing up basically

people on the surface that she’s starting to get to know by helping everyone, she’s a pretty friendly person sO

remy maxwell

oh look a new one

he’s just a normal uni student tbh, like he’s aware that a lot of the other cities have superheroes and magical creatures and just all-around crazy people, but he prefers his quiet life

or at least he dID, the argenti kinda changed that and now his life is a Mess and he wants it to end

the cul-de-sac he lives in has become a prime safe-area that doesn’t have any monsters for whatever reason so there’s all these people taking a break from fighting there and he’s just internally “gET OFFA MY LAWN”

he’s kinda uncooperative and just gives one-word answers to a lot of people unless he knows you, which he probably doesn’t because he has the social graces of a toenail

he’s a psychology major who minors in literature so his skillset isn’t all that useful in combat but he has a weapon from sb laboratories he can use and he likes to think he’s pretty skilled at it

he lives at home, but his parents aren’t around much bc they’re always travelling, like people ask where they’ve gone now and he’s just “yeah i think this is their...................fifth or sixth honeymoon idk”

he’s not even scared of the argenti he’s just annoyed by them like he sees a creature lurking on his roof and he gets the broom and is just “fUCK OFF”

he just wants to go the grocery store without infected trees trying to kill him man

possible connections & stuff

give him his neighbours !! i headcanon that he and the other kids on the street he lives on are kinda close and have always played together since they were young and they’re still always around each other even tho they’re older now

someone young in the fight who stops by the cul-de-sac regularly who remy’s sorta taken in as his fake younger sibling

fellow uni students !! even tho school is probably cancelled bc u know..............evil aliens he probs still sees them from time to time

ginerva starkweather

BDE -- big dumbass energy

she lives in the wilds in a magic-ish type forest that i haven’t named yet i’ll get back to you on that in a witchy cottage that’s sorta hidden but ?? it’s not exactly a secret it’s just how the location is

she’s a witch and has been for her entire life, but she’s also been kind of alone for her entire life ?? like she’s just always Known she’s had magical powers but she sorta had to train herself and raise herself she was raised by the woodland creatures

she’s a disney princess but a really fucking stupid one

her best friend is a fox called mitzy who has been her loyal companion since the two of them were wee babs

she thinks magic is the solution to most things and doesn’t really see the appeal of science and modern shit and all that fun stuff, like she doesn’t have a phone or a tv, has never been to the suburbs or the downtown area really, she just chills and often forgets more modern places exist

her magic is what pays the bills as she advertises herself as “your own personal witch!!” so people can hire her for her to use her magic however they want, though there are limitations

she heard about the argenti by encountering some monsters herself and, after that, by her clients telling her and asking if she can do anything, so now she’s dedicated herself to finding a way to blast those damn aliens away once and for all

the main problem is that she hasn’t even thought of teaming up with the scientists to discover a solution, thinking she has to do everything herself because she’s just ?? never had to depend on anyone else before so it’s not something she’s even thinking about

possible connections & stuff

clients !! people who ask things of her magic-wise and pay her to carry out what they want and all that fun stuff, she’s super nice and social if that’s relevant at all

someone pls tell her that she should go and join forces with the scientists and shit. and give her a phone

the woodland creatures who grew up with her or helped raise her !!

siwoo bae

AH WHAT A FINE DAY FOR SCIENCE

siwoo grew up in the suburbs with parents who had high expectations for their kids and siwoo was no exception, but that wasn’t a problem for him since he was a genius from the get-go really

he was initially very proud of himself and what he achieved, and for a while his parents were, too. but as he started growing older they assumed that his inventions and experiments would become bigger and greater and soon their expectations were far too high for such a young kid

it was then that he started to just ?? slip off the radar in a way ?? let his siblings take the lead while he kept everything to himself and he would avoid family dinners and just isolate himself in his room and the lab it had become

when he was in his early teens taking away his 39045830490th science fair prize, he was offered the chance to start up his own science lab/company. at first he thought it was too good to be true and that this person was fucking with him but nOPE it was true

and so he became the ceo of SB Labs downtown, and he moved out there without his parents knowing so he wouldn’t be disturbed by them bc he kNEW they’d want a cut of his profits and he’s just like “pls no”

the older he became the more he shut himself in his lab and now he rarely ever leaves, relaying messages via his androids (woo-bots) or video message, but even the latter is rare

he’s a very shy person and has little to no social skills tbh he’s hopeless

when the argenti invaded he was On That Shit, studying any samples he could get his hands on and making weapons that were as effective as possible against the monsters, but still only showing his face when absolutely necessary

most people are kinda Shook that this 22 year old dude is the ceo

possible connections & stuff

his siblings !! idk how many there are i didn’t think that far ahead but basically they’d have the pressure against them that he did and he isolated himself from Everyone which includes them probs rip

someone pls drag him outside for once in his life

just people he would interact with for the war he needs to be social

briar kang

yeah that’s not her real name

briar is the lead singer of a band called acantha, but when she was growing up her parents told her that she couldn’t pursue music and had to follow a career path that would “actually lead somewhere”

she didn’t give up though, and when she was sixteen she told her parents that she wasn’t intending to go to university, instead wanting to head to the downtown area to make it in the music industry

she was promptly disowned, so in retaliation she changed her name

she and her band members struggled for a little bit until they played at a battle of the bands and were scouted and the rest was history pretty much

their band is known for being “larger than life” the type of people who like to hype up a crowd and just live in the moment rather than thinking too much about the past or fretting about the future. obviously, they have to be business-savvy and professional, but they like to keep it real, which is why a lot of their fans appreciate them aside from their music

briar can be kinda petty. i can confirm that they held a concert in her hometown in the suburbs just to piss her parents off

she’s an artistic person and gets inspiration from just about everything, but she’s also kind of unwavering when it comes to her artistic vision. she’s willing to compromise with her bandmates but pretty much no one else. she doesn’t want to go against her ideal sound/vision/concept/whatever solely because it’ll “make them more popular” as she feels like she’d be lying that way

the argenti haven’t broken her spirit, and she’s taken to using her fame to tell her fans that they need to step up and fight

acantha totally holds charity concerts and stuff to help fund anti-argenti programs and stuff

possible connections & stuff

PWEATHE.................GIMME HER BANDMATES.......................PWE A TH E

any other people in the industry she knows, ‘cause she would

elythe varelle

we been knew

the princess of the faeries, one would expect elythe to be spoiled and set up for life, and in some ways, she was. she was given everything she wanted by the servants, but never her parents, who were “far too busy” to deal with her

in her family, the title of ‘heir to the throne’ is something that has to be earned and not something one is born into, something eli’s been told since the beginning

but alas no matter what she does she’s just not good enough and her parents still won’t look at her, plus the people believe that she’s just a brat due to the sneaky and snarky way she acts and they’re not totally wrong but i mEAN

she’s a very difficult person to get along with and so she prefers to keep the staff members who work with her the same as when she was young since they know her and how her mind works, plus they see the good in her

the epitome of “can you blame me, i never got no love”

now that the argenti have come, she’s decided to see their invasion as an opportunity rather than a threat, which would be fine if she was rEALLY helping humanity, but she’s probs choosing the wrong way of doing things

aka she wants to resurrect 2 of the argenti’s first victims -- hestia and ambrose seasonaire, to show off that she has the magical prowess to be the next fae queen

aka she’s a dumbass who doesn’t see the bigger picture

she also kinda doesn’t understand exactly how the world outside of the land of the fae works ?? like she’s got all the magical sections of the wilds down, but the rest ?? probs not

possible connections & stuff

other faeries !! people who work in the castle or anything else really

people she meets during her journey to resurrect the seasonaires yeet skeet

HC: Science TA Geno History Student Sid

The second these photos came out we were like IT’S TIME. So HERE. WE. GO:

Imagine a universe in which Sid and Geno are separated by a few more years but not enough for it to be weird and Sid is a history major/gym addict (we just can’t picture him without the lower body) who has put off his science requirements for his degree until the very last possible time to do them. So there he is, 21/22 with a bunch of 18y/o freshmen in first year chem, looking mildly confused three times a week in lecture with his biceps threatening to burst through his intramural hockey tees, carefully seated 2/3 of the way up the lecture hall for maximum anonymity.

Sid does not like science very much. At least, not advanced science; he has no need for it beyond understanding the theory and the basics. He has no burning need to know the world’s innermost workings, and he thinks stoichiometry should go die in a fire.

But he’s also not going to let his GPA suffer because of this stupid class. He has a hard time focusing because he has so many other MORE IMPORTANT things he could be doing with his time so he gets lost easily and feels like he’s floundering and it’s ridiculous and embarrassing.

So, like a good and diligent student he goes to the TA office hours with his last quiz, bracing himself for an hour with some bored grad-school chem major to try and get a handle on the last module before it’s too far into the semester to catch up, and immediately has to squint at the name Evgeni Malkin on the door. He’s not even sure how to pronounce that. Eff-Jenny? Eve Genie? Veg-inni? He knows enough to parse out that it’s Russian and he immediately flashes to a nerdy Russian stereotype playing chess in his office behind thick glasses and a really tragic knit sweater. Sid is prepared to have the WORST time with a hardcore nerd who probably thinks a BA jock like Sid shouldn’t even be in his class - LET ALONE the fact Sid doesn’t want to be there and doesn’t get it and really doesn’t care.

Geno doesn’t make much better of a first impression. BUT to be fair:

The smell in his shared office is vinegary from the eco-friendly cleaning solution that he used to clean up an unfortunate sour cream incident in his small ancient TA office microwave. And it’s also a little like BO because...well because he smells like BO because he hasn’t been home for more than 20 minutes in weeks working on a breakthrough in his thesis. And let’s be fair, all the tiny shitty basements TAs get shoved into smell a little funky. He can’t be blamed!

Re: the point of hasn’t been home in weeks, his clothes are thoroughly dirty, we’re talking food stains, ink stains, lab stains of who knows what that soaked through his labcoat and smeared on his shirt cuffs. Also the clothes he’s wearing are his warmest and most comfortable. Oversized university sweatshirt (he’s so cold always), beanie (covering up greasy hair), his glasses because he hasn’t had time to order new contacts, extra cardigan over the back of his chair for when it gets particularly drafty after dark.

There are a LOT of mugs, and cups, and takeout containers where there aren’t stacks of papers upon papers upon textbooks. Listen, office hours are boring and any time he can get for his thesis is welcome. Cleaning isn’t high on his list of things to do currently.

So anyway, imagine Geno highly sleep deprived (who needs sleep when you have CHEMISTRY), and probably lacking a nutritionally balanced meal and hopped up on caffeine looking up at the knock to his door and seeing the most beautiful man possibly EVER standing in the doorway. He looks wary and faintly disgusted, but he also looks like he smells good, and his hair is a little damp, like he’d just come from the gym or something.

Geno legitimately thinks he's starting to hallucinate beautiful men. But then Sid opens his mouth and Geno recoils because no cute angels actually sound like that, so he must be a student.

And then Sid's asking about his quiz and he's so DETERMINED AND BRIGHT but clearly hating chem and just trying to like STRONG-ARM IT INTO OBEYING HIM. And you know what, this Geno legitimately loves chemistry; the way it underpins all of nature and all of biology, the way you can add one thing to another and get something totally surprising seemingly out of nowhere, the way equations balance out so beautifully when you get them right - the way it’s a whole language that makes perfect and total sense, unlike the confusing jumble of English he’s been putting up with since he moved here for school. He DOES want to help students learn to understand it - to love it like he does, ideally.

Geno probably pulls the test closer for a look and faintly remembers Sid seeing him up close. In class he’d never looked like much, usually wearing a ball cap that kept his beautiful face in shadow and from 40ft away in an auditorium he looked like every other university freshman, not this stacked slice of yum (on second thought, judging by the quality of his internal monologue, Geno is starting to think maybe he really does need to get some sleep).

Looking at the quiz is a little painful in some places though. Geno points out that Sid’s not dumb, but he’s careless with his work.

"This inattentiveness kill you in lab."

"I don't like science, I don't particularly want to be here, but I need this requirement and I'm not going to fly by with a C and let it tank my GPA. SO. we're going over every single one of these quiz questions."

"...You got most right though."

"Still, I could hear a repeat of the concepts, cramming doesn’t help anyone.”

So Sid sits gingerly in the moth-eaten chair in the cramped office while Geno (greasy, owlish with lack of sleep, a little too enthusiastic) tries to impress upon him the BEAUTY of Chemistry and Sid tries to dedicate himself to remembering anything at all while his brain keeps reflexively blanking out every time Geno mentions equilibriums. He’s doing better one on one, but he knew that, he always did better with a focused point for his attention.

Anyway so Sid walks out thinking the TA is like kind of a Russian Science Gremlin Nerd who chats on forums and has never eaten anything other than cheetos (judging by the contents of the wastebasket by the door). And Geno watches the door close probably thinking someone who wears as much athleisure wear and is as jacked as Sid, not to mention was only 70% successful in hiding his general disdain for THE GLORY OF STOICH, is kind of a meathead.

But Sid learned some things and Geno’s a patient if slightly judgy teacher, and Geno knows not everyone can truly understand his love of chem, so they both come out with not...100% accurate impressions of each other, but with a kind of alliance? An understanding? The usual academic relationship you might have with a TA. They're both students, the difference being one gives a shit about the topic and grades the other one’s work. Sid checks in a couple more times with questions and Geno clears up some desk space to help out if he can. 

SO THEN. The semester ends, Sid passes chem, Geno gives him a high five when he hands back his final exam, which has a sticker of a cat with pom-poms saying PURR-FECT on it. Geno loves weird animal stickers (Geno is the weirdest person Sid has ever met maybe).

The next time Geno sees Sid is in the library of all places. Geno would have never thought Sid would be caught dead in a uni library. Like that doesn’t actually make sense the more he thinks about it, but it’s true, he thought maybe Sid’s intensity about his GPA was sport-team related. But here he is stationed at a carrel that is just covered in organized stacks of books, meticulous notes, colour coded even! Sid is hyper-focused on what he’s doing, flipping through a book with one hand and jotting down notes with the other.

Geno: Oh shit I'm getting a competence boner, SID IS REALLY SMART OH NO, HE’S SO ORGANIZED AND DEDICATED. LOOK AT ALL THE TABS IN THAT TEXTBOOK.

He’s beautiful and brilliant RIP G. So then Geno kind of low-key follows Sid's academic career - sees/stalks/stares in the library if he has occasion to be there (SID IS THERE SO OFTEN OH NO), immediately ducking between a couple of shelves whenever Sid looks up or stretches. He finds too many reasons to hang out in the Russian history section, probably bothering Ovi who is actually taking history courses and has a reason to be there and actually knows Sid, much to his disgust with Zhenya when he finds out what’s happening (why not a good Russian history undergrad Zhenya??). Geno has studying to do too! The library is an ideal place to study! What’s that you say, the whole catalogue is even easier to navigate digitally? Shush, you.

The next time Sid sees Geno after the semester ends is in the biggest campus gym. One time he was running on the track for a cool-down and saw Geno swimming in the lane pool below through the windows.

Initially Sid was like "good for him, he doesn't go outside enough, lil russian potted plant/cheeto gremlin."

And then Geno grabs hold of the side of the pool and lifts himself out and Sid almost runs off the track, stumbling hard. Geno doesn't have the soft and furry pale body that Sid was expecting - he's all clean angles with an even tan and the shoulder-to-waist ratio OF A DORITO. He looks insanely long and lean, just legs for days. Sid tries to recollect if he’d ever seen Geno standing before and honestly can’t remember. But watching him wiping the water out of his eyes and walk over to joke and laugh with the lifeguard on her stand, he has to be over six feet, EASILY. He just looked so small hunched in his little office in his sweaters! His face is so angular without the glasses!

So then Sid kind of gets just as creepy as G is in the library and figures out when Geno frequents the gym and starts attending at the same time to creep. The track is raised! It overlooks the pool and he’s a frequent runner! It goes on like that for some time, some mutual creeping in the way you do when you’re on a campus with 20,000 (or w/e) people and you see a familiar face but it would be weird to say hi and so you just keep going about your day/occasionally creeping as one does.

It all comes to a head fortunately one Friday night in late January. Sid gets knocked on his ass yet again at the campus pub one night when he finds out that G doesn't always dress like a soviet grandpa or a mostly-nude glistening adonis. He’s all legs a mile long in jeans laughing with his Russian TA bros, gold chains and a bright graphic tee. He looks so at ease in his clothing the way that Sid never does, because Sid is so sold, blocky, muscular - he always looks like he's 5 seconds from hulking out in his clothing or like he's swimming in his dad's suit, there's no medium. The best he can usually manage is looking like he works in a sporting goods store with an unflattering polo shirt and some track pants. And here’s Geno all handsome and tall and easy confidence with his friends, and Sid KNOWS he’s brilliant too, like this is a disaster.

Meanwhile Geno is IN LOVE with how Sid always looks like he’s going to bust out of whatever he’s wearing but this is just because Sid is still young and hasn't grown into his face/lost some childhood fat and like learned how sleek he can look in well-tailored clothing.

(Brief moment of silent thanks for his current tailor)

G probably sees Sid at the bar as well, looking flushed pink from his drink and giggling atrociously/attractively with his friends. His lips are bright pink and the flush looks so good on those cheekbones and someone’s obviously convinced him to ditch the athleisure and dress like a normal guy for the night. And if Sid is old enough to get into the bar that's not creepy right? They're no longer teacher/student and Sid looks so so so pretty. Geno might be a little drunk and narrating all of this to a very unimpressed Gonch.

(Gonch is a PHD student who is like taking 800 years to do his work because like he's also working a day job because he has a wife and kids)

There are some glances back and forth for a bit, and eventually they can both tell the other is looking looking. Geno is just tipsy enough he plucks up the courage to go over to Sid. And Sid, seeing him approaching, catching his eye, distances himself from his history nerd friends (WE’RE LOOKING AT YOU JACK JOHNSON).

So they meet up in a little nook along the bar, and exchange smiles/greetings (Sid looking up, up, up at him and feeling his flush getting DEEPER). And then the awkwardness sets in HARD. The problem being it's kind of loud in the bar, because they always are, and Sid has trouble with accents most of the time and so does Geno, plus they've both had a few beers.

They end up 100% not understanding anything the other is saying and doing that weird smile-and-nod but not-knowing-what-to-say thing that keeps your convos stilted and awkward with a few “SORRY?”s thrown in for good measure.

They’re still both a little blushy and a little mortified about not understanding. Geno feels like he understood more the first day he came to America he's like "How have I regressed to literally zero English. I don’t remember ANY ENGLISH WORDS."

Meanwhile Sid has realized they can’t really understand each other and the beer has loosened his lips enough that he’s taking advantage of the situation and blurting a lot of awkward stuff he’s way too embarrassed to actually say.

Unfortunately there’s one of those LULLS in the bar where everyone stops talking and the music is between songs and Sid just yells "I DIDN'T REALIZE YOU WERE HOT AT FIRST."

Cue an few cackles from the wings and Sid’s instant mortification. Geno’s face is doing something between fighting a smirk of amusement and being confused/concerned.

Mostly Geno realizes that this is going to spiral out of control very quickly and tugs Sid’s elbow until they’re stepping outside together in the freezing night where their shouts will actually reach each other’s ears.

Basically they end up in a Denny’s at 2 am blushing at each other. Geno getting his flirt on, because once he feels like Sid’s into him he is all confident body language and jokes, getting into Sid’s personal space with his impossibly long limbs. Sid relaxes into being kinda snarky and snide, but so quick-witted and kind, the side of him that Geno had only briefly glimpsed during their office hour conversations. And that’s all it really takes, because they both are the type to go for what they want, and the interest is clearly mutual, and it turns out they already know a bit too much about each other’s schedules and they just make it work in the best ways.

They quickly turn into THAT COUPLE that makes all their friends roll their eyes, and Geno never stops chirping Sid for “I didn’t think you were hot at first.” both in front of other people and while Sid is trying desperately to wrestle G’s jeans off (“oh, I’m hot enough now, Sid?” “shut UP Geno and lift up your hips!!”).

Of course being the academic doorknobs they are, neither of them realize that this is an everlasting permanent kind of love, a LEGIT COLLEGE SWEETHEART KIND OF LOVE until like Sid meal preps Geno's entire week without asking whenever he knows that there's a big assignment coming up and he's never gonna get out of the lab, so he like keeps eating vegetables and not just cheetos and potato-based dishes.

Geno adopts all Sid's weird little rituals in his spaces because he respects that Sid has a system and is serious about his studies and has witnessed the meltdowns that can occur when too big a wrench gets thrown into Sid’s day. He never bothers Sid while he’s studying, but working out a system to ask unobtrusively if he wants a snack.

Geno willingly gets pranked by Flower because there’s HAZING when it comes to roommate’s significant others showering in their bathroom.

Sid has an intimidating family dinner with the Gonchars he was in no way prepared for, but gamely shows up with a bottle of wine and a button down shirt that is still creased from the packaging.

By the time Geno is cheering in the crowd at Sid’s graduation they’re maybe getting an inkling what their future looks like, full of too many bookshelves, messy stacks of papers and notebooks, missed anniversaries for papers and research but made up with good sex and take out, lumpy knit sweaters over the backs of chairs and ugly but charming antique furniture. Full of each other.