Love’s Worth Running To. Chapter 1: Reunited

Pairing: Barry Allen x Stephanie Williams (OC)

Fandom: Justice League / DCEU

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CHAPTER INDEX • NEXT CHAPTER ➡

AO3 

A/N: It’s finally here, I’m so freaking excited!! I have so many ideas for this series and I love them all, it’s going to be really fun writing interactions between Barry and Steph and with the Justice League too! Not to mention how many things are going on with the plot and the villains and the heroes! 

I hope you like this series, or at least the first chapter, I’m quite satisfied with it so far. If you could reblog it and/or leave feedback, it would really mean the world to me!

The sun shines bright, at the highest point in the sky. The air is mildly warm. Summer is near. The park is completely empty at that time, too early still after school has just ended. Soon the place will be filled with loud children running, shouting and playing. She hopes he will arrive before them.

Stephanie absently-minded kicks her feet up, moving in the swing and wondering where he could be. His swing next to her is empty. It gently sways with the breeze.

“Tephie!” Soon enough, a little boy comes running her direction. He trips and stumbles as her approaches her.

“Barry” She mutters, forcing the swing to a halt when she notices he’s crying. “What happened?”

“They hit me again” It is then that she notices the red bruise on his cheek. “I ran”

“Are you okay?” The little girl jumps off the swing, meeting him halfway as he finally reaches her.

“Yeah... I’m okay...” He grits his teeth, averting his teary eyes from her.

Stephanie frowns at first, never before having seen him angry except for on occasions like that. Because of the bullies. In any case, she doesn’t understand why the other kids pick on Barry so much.

She then takes his hand, smiling at him, and starts running. He was just starting to recover from his own dash, but he gladly follows after her even as he huffs again.

“Where are we going?”

Stephanie doesn’t reply. She only giggles, squeezing his hand as they run through the park. They reach a small hill, patiently climbing their way to the top. They look at each other, never letting go of their hands or stopping to catch their breath. Now they’re both smiling.

Once they’re at the top of the green hill, Stephanie finally stops. Barry stands by her side, watching in confusion and curiosity. The little girl watches the clouds for a moment, craning her neck up and squinting her eyes at the bright sun.

After taking a deep breath, Stephanie lets out a very loud high-pitched shriek. Startled, Barry jumps in place. When she looks at him, that smile is still adorning her features.

“Try it!” She encourages him between giggles. “You’ll feel better”

Barry gawks at her, but Stephanie tugs at his hand. Giving in, he takes a deep breath. When he starts screaming at the top of his lungs, the little girl dissolves into giggles. He stops for a moment, glancing at her in surprise.

“I do feel better”

“Then keep doing it!”

The two of them join together in a thunderous harmony of shrieking voices. Their frustrated and boisterous screaming evolves into giggles. Soon after, their laughter has completely taken over. They laugh and laugh until their stomachs hurt. Looking at the other only causes them to laugh harder. But they don’t stop staring at the other.

They don’t stop smiling.

And laughing.

The alarm clocks startles her awake. Stephanie opens her eyes, meeting with the direct sight of her plain white ceiling. She groans, feebly sitting up and passing a hand through her messy brown hair. Her eyes are instinctively directed to the framed photograph on her beside table. The boy of her dream is looking at her through time, immortalized in that image. She smiles to herself. Barry Allen, the one and only. The little girl next to him, a younger version of Stephanie, is smiling wide. His arm is on her shoulders and neither of them could be happier.

Shaking her head, Stephanie gets to her feet. She calmly walks to the bathroom to get ready for work. Even as she combs her hair, as she brushes her teeth and gets changed from her pijamas to her street clothes, her thoughts wander.

That boy keeps running through her mind like he does every morning. Every day. He brings a dull ache to Stephanie’s chest. The sting of nostalgia. The big what ifs that make her head fuzzy. The yearning for regaining what she once had.

Like every morning, Stephanie forces those thoughts away the moment she leaves her apartment. She just takes a deep breath and ventures into the streets of Central City. She has a life of her own now. Without him. As much as she misses Barry Allen, she hasn’t talked to her childhood best friend in years. It’s best to forget about him. She probably won’t see him again.

Or at least... that’s what she thinks.

_

The Batcave is quiet that morning. As Barry absently walks in, he hopes it’s a good thing. Dropping his bag from his shoulder down to the floor, he glances around. Everything is in order. Bruce and Diana are sitting in a small round table, smiling as they chat over coffee. Victor and Arthur share a slightly bigger square table not far from them, playing cards in a mildly aggressive way that seems very much amusing to them both. Clark is intensely typing on his laptop, resting his back against the wall.

“Hey, everyone!” Barry greets them, making a little wave when they turn their heads.

“Barry” Bruce greets him back. “Everything okay?”

“Yup, pretty normal” He shrugs, going to stand between the two tables. “And here?”

“Everything is calm” Diana tells him with a warm smile.

“Really?”

“Yes”

“Just the usual” Clark pipes up, still not looking away from the screen. “Saving some people every now and then”

Barry nods his head in response. He has done that some days himself – moving a person away from a speeding car, helping people stuck in burning buildings, even getting kitties down from trees. Nothing ‘save the world’ worthy, but important nonetheless.

“So…” The boy begins, letting his dark eyes wander around the room. “If everything’s calm, what are we all doing here then?”

“Hanging out” Victor simply replies, brow furrowed in concentration as he stares at the deck in his hand.

“Hanging out, huh?”

“Isn’t that what friends are supposed to do?”

“Aw, Arthur… you consider me your friend?”

Arthur glares at Barry, fighting a smile, and shakes his head at him. “I take it back”

“Fine, okay, um…” Barry fidgets in the spot, having lots of nervous energy at the start of the day. “I’m going to get to the store, anyone want something?”

“A sense of purpose” Victor replies sarcastically, causing Arthur to chuckle.

“Yeah, I have like… 3 dollars” Barry says, digging some wrinkled bills from his pocket.

“No, thank you” Diana kindly says, playfully tilting her head at Victor in response to his comment.

“A new member to the team would be great” Arthur smirks too. “Maybe that way it’d be easier to deal with you”

“That’s it, mister” Barry points a finger at him. “I was gonna get donuts for everyone, but you’re not getting any”

Everyone chuckles, including Arthur, and they all continue with what they were doing before Barry came in. Slightly restless still, the boy sighs and picks his bag back up.

“Be right back” And he speeds off, setting the wheels of destiny in motion.

_

Stephanie takes a deep breath, trying to concentrate in the present. The investigation is leading nowhere, and so that dull and routinely day becomes something even worse: a waste of time. When she moves away from the microscope, Stephanie’s eyes are directed to the corridor outside the room when they detect movement.

Her smile, which had been missing, returns like the sun on a cloudy day when she sees Ben walking towards the lab. He seems to be the only dash of color in her usually gray days.

“Sorry I’m late” Ben says as soon as he walks in, dedicating her a smile that spreads warmth within her. “I had so much to do this morning”

“It’s okay” She takes her glasses off and stands away from the table.

“Any luck with the samples?” He absently asks as he puts his white lab coat on.

“There’s no change” Stephanie sighs in defeat. “The molecules have been exposed to that force field for days now and there is no reaction”

“That’s odd…” Ben frowns and approaches her. “Is the computer still glitching?”

“I haven’t touched it this time” She jokes, even if her tone holds more irritation than playfulness this time. “I don’t think it has an effect on the results in any case”

Her partner quiets for a moment, typing and reading the screen. After he has checked and introduced some commands that will alter that force field, he turns to her.

“Do you think we’re doing something wrong?”

“I don’t know…” She pinches the bridge of her nose, feeling the start of a headache forming in her forehead.

The silence settles for just a second. It falls on them forcefully, heavily.

“Why don’t you go get some coffee?” Ben kindly touches her shoulder. “The fresh air might help”

“You just want me to get you some coffee” Stephanie smiles in spite of herself.

“I didn’t say that” A cautiously playful smiles draws on his lips. “But if you insist…”

“Fine...” Her smiles lingers even as she jokingly rolls her eyes. “The usual?”

“Yes, please” Ben innocently replies, even if he’s observing the experiment.

Stephanie shakes her head to herself, taking her lab coat off and leaving the lab.

The wheels of destiny start spinning faster and faster.

_

The hubbub fills the establishment. Stephanie taps her foot, trying to distract herself while she waits in line. The queue isn’t moving. The other costumers also scoff, sigh and roll their eyes at whoever keeps them waiting like that.

“I know I’m twenty cents short! But c’mon, it’s just twenty cents!” A loud voice comes from the counter, at the very start of the line. “I’m craving that donut so much! Can’t you like… I don’t know… make an exception or something?”

“I can’t let you take them if you don’t pay, sir” The clerk replies in the most bored voice Stephanie has ever heard. “Give me all the money and you can have your food”

“You don’t understand” The more she hears that voice, the more Stephanie thinks it sounds familiar. It’s not exactly the tone, but the cadence and fidgety hint to it. “I have been, um…. Running... around all day, I need to eat something!”

Why is that voice so familiar? Just as she is leaning to the side to try and get a look at him, Stephanie’s heart skips a beat when she places where she heard that voice before.

It can’t be...

Her heart is now thumping inside her rib cage. The butterflies coyly start to unleash in her stomach, but she tries to keep them at bay. She shouldn’t get her hopes up.  

Cutting in line, she quickly moves to the start of the queue to take a look at that person. A tall thin boy with dark hair is leaning against the counter and impatiently drumming his fingers against the glass. He passes a hand through his short hair. That second in which he hasn’t noticed her presence yet feels like an hour before she finally pipes up.

“I can’t believe it” She grins when she sees him, even if she’s shaking with excitement. “Barry? Barry Allen?”

He turns his head in her direction. His dark brown eyes are awfully familiar to her, and that’s how she knows it’s really him. The smile that appears on his lips next, sweet and bright, is the last proof she needs to confirm his identity.

“Stephanie? Is that you?” The boy squints at her, forgetting about the food. “Stephanie Williams?”

“Yes!” She chuckles, bouncing in the spot. “It’s me!”

“Steph!” Without thinking twice, Barry throws himself to hug her. “Oh my gosh!”

A big feeling of warmth envelops her as he presses her against him. Several years have gone by, but it feels like time hasn’t really passed at the same time. Stephanie feels like her ten year old self again as she is squished by one Barry Allen’s bear hugs.

Memories overwhelm her. Hot summer afternoons in the park. Movie marathons that turned into sleepovers. Chilly autumn evenings. She is even reminded of their pirate phase. All those thoughts fill her with a nostalgia that, for the first time in a decade, isn’t filled with melancholy.

“You look great!” Barry exclaims as he breaks away, much too soon for her taste, and takes her by the shoulders. “You have the same face”

“Thank you” She laughs a little, taking it as a compliment. “You have changed a little”

“It’s the jaw, isn’t it?” He jokes, passing a finger through his own face. “Makes me look older”

“I’m so happy to see you, Barry” Stephanie grins, clinging on to him and hoping the moment can last forever.

“Why, what’s wrong?” He fondly squeezes her arm. “Are you having a bad day? Who do I have to kill?”

“Same old Barry...” She laughs, shaking her head in amusement.

“Excuse me” The clerk’s voice reminds them that they aren’t alone in the establishment. “Are you paying or not?”

The both of them pause, bearing similar embarrassed expressions as they glance at the queuing crowd that stare at the pair in annoyance. When they realize they are still tightly holding on to each other, they awkwardly step away.

“Um… I’ll pay for that” Stephanie offers, politely smiling as she picks up her purse.

“Oh, thank you!” Barry effusively replies, clapping his hands together. “You’re my hero”

She laughs a little, endeared by his comment. The clerk finally hands him his donuts and the rest of his order and Barry grabs it with an excited little bounce. Then he turns to Stephanie once more, smiling from ear to ear.

“Look, I gotta run” He mumbles, fondly staring at her. “But it’s been great to see you”

“Oh, uh… yeah…” The girl sheepishly smiles, putting her hair behind her ear. “It’s been great to see you too”

Barry must have noticed the disappointment in her voice, because he frowns as he observes her. Then, after a brief pause, he places his hand on her shoulder.

“Hey, since you saved my butt back there… I could uh…” He stutters for a moment, ultimately clearing his throat and blushing under Stephanie’s amused gaze. “We could go out for a coffee sometimes, I’m paying”

“Y-Yeah!” Her face instantly lights up. “That would be great!”

“That way we can catch up!”

“You’re right, it would be lovely!”

Barry looks over his shoulder for a moment, bothered by the people that still crowd around them. Then he gulps and stares at her in expectation. Seeing as Stephanie just stands there, grinning, he insists.

“When are you free?”

“Oh” She chuckles in embarrassment. “Today I’m all booked, but tomorrow after lunch I’m free”

“Great!”

“Great”

“See you here tomorrow at… let’s say… 4pm?”

“That sounds great”

“Cool”

“Cool”

Barry and Stephanie still stand there, staring at each other. It feels as though that invisible string that had been so taut, keeping them apart, now won’t keep them separated any longer. Like they are physically incapable of moving away.

A wave of emotions has taken over them. All those feelings that they had forgotten, that they were once so used to when they were children and saw each other every day. The excitement slowly bubbling in their chest that spreads down to the stomach and groww bigger and bigger, the way they couldn’t stop smiling and their faces end up hurting from the big gesture, the pleasant nervous butterflies in the stomach...

“Well” Barry finally makes the move, resting his hand against Stephanie’s upper arm and lovingly squeezing. “I would love to stay, but I really really gotta go”

“S-Sure, of course” Hiding the pain in her heart, she steps to the side. “I have to go back to work too”

“See you tomorrow!” He waves goodbye and hurries to the door.

Stephanie stays there for several more seconds, watching the spot from which he disappeared. She sighs. Before the sadness can overcome her, however, she tells herself that she will see him tomorrow. After years separated, Stephanie and Barry will finally be together again.

_

When she returns, everything is the same at the lab. Oddly enough, it feels completely different at the same time. With her chest full and the stomach suffering the remaining of the butterflies, Stephanie walks inside. She puts her lab coat on and approaches Ben.

“I’m back!” Seeing as he is still busy with the computer, she only leaves the small plastic tray in the table beside him. “Here’s your coffee, Ben”

The young man absently turns to her and has to do a double take. His eyebrows shoot up in surprise when he takes a better look at her.

“Look at that smile…” He says, putting a hand on his hip.

“What?” Stephanie scoffs, rushing to pick up her coffee to have something to do. “It’s not like you haven’t seen me smile before...”

“I know, but that smile feels different…” A sweet grin slowly makes its way to Ben’s face. “More genuine”

“Maybe…”

“So why the change?”

“I don’t know” She lies, feeling herself blushing.

Ben peers at her for a moment longer, but ultimately gets back to work. Stephanie sighs in relief and absently returns to the experiment herself.

She does know the reason behind that change... Barry Allen. That constant presence in her life even in his absence. That boy she could never forget and that, she is happy to realize now, she doesn’t have to. Stephanie has been reunited with her beloved childhood friend, and the best part of all is she will see him again very soon.

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Ships and Shells (Pt.2)

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

Virgil was already aware he wasnt the best tracker of time, but this was getting ridiculous. How long had he been trapped here? Two? Maybe three weeks? Was it more? Was it less? He couldnt tell, all he could count on to tell time was the appearance of Roman with trays of food at exactly six in the morning, noon, and six at night.

"So I take it we're still not close to land hm?" Virgil growled as he heard footsteps yet again.

But then he realized, these were different, these were heavier.

"Ah, Mr. Duke." Virgil said with a smirk and a snarl.

"Now your highness I know you dont like me but downgrading my title so harshly? Have you no heart?"Remus said, faking hurt.

"Nope, not one," Virgil responded, which, oddly enough, earned him a laugh from Remus' end.

"Aaawwweee, you poor thing, it must be so hard to breathe," Remus purred, Virgil rolled his eyes.

"What do you want." Virgil said lowly.

"We're almost to the next town, so we need to establish some rules," at this, Virgil straightened up slightly, this could be it, his chance at escape.

"There will be guards on all exit points, and no other ropes will be far enough down to reach, so dont plan anything stupid," Remus said, Virgil smirked slightly, pitiful, he thinks ropes being a little high up is going to stop me he thought.

"You will only be allowed in the main part of the ship, not the cabins, those are reserved for crew members," Remus continued, that was probably a given, but Virgil would find a way to break that rule to.

"And finally, Don't. Touch. Anything." This last rule was said with such aggressiveness that it nearly caused a shiver down Virgil's spine, he felt mildly betrayed by that.

"Is this understood?" Remus said coolly, Virgil merely nodded in response.

"I meant for you to respond verbally, your highness," Remus said.

"Understood." Virgil said, slowly regaining his composure.

"But, I do have one question," Virgil said, turning slowly.

"And that is?" Remus raised an eyebrow.

"If I cant touch anything," Virgil wrapped his hands around the bars of his cell, "then I've broken rule three every day since ive been here," Virgil smirked.

Remus stared at him for a few moments, dumbstruck, or at least, Virgil hoped he was.

"I meant, dont touch any items outside of your cell, floor and walls are fine, but no papers, books, ropes, wheels, candles, none of it," Remus said. Virgil ran the phrase over and over again in his head to try and find some type of loophole, but when none presented itself, he went quiet. He watched as Remus produced a key from his pocket and began working the lock on Virgil's cell.

Virgil rushed out nearly immediately after the gate swung open, half expecting Remus to grab him and shove him back. But no such moment came, soon he was out in the open air, the scent of salt water enveloping him, the feel of the breeze on his skin was almost comforting now.

"Keep him alive, please." Remus stated to the guards. Virgil watched as he, Roman, and Janus, jumped off the boat, each dragging something behind them.

And then Virgil was left with two guards on each side of the boat, standing beside the openings that would allow for Virgil to rush off onto the mainland. But he'd worry about that later, the twins and the snake were still all to close for him to run for it now, so it was unsafe for him to attempt anything just yet.

So he waited.

And waited.

And waited.

For what seemed like years, he waited.

And finally, he noticed a slip up, and once he did, it was showtime. He knocked the closest desk over and waited for the guards to attempt to restrain him, only to sneak under their arms and rush out through the now open exit.

He landed with a thud on the harbor, and ran into the town as fast as his legs could carry him. He ignored the shouts from his captors, ignored the staring, ignored everything that was keeping him trapped in that ship.

The buildings in this town were a lot smaller, and there was no wall around the outside. The docks were lined with shops, jewelry and clothing and all sorts of other things hung from booths and lay on counters. It was then that Virgil realized, he didnt have money. Lucky for him, most of the people in the crowd were nearly a foot taller than him, which made it much easier to snag a cloak and an apple from the booths on which they lay.

This was alright for a while, until he ran into other people. Though in this case, the couple seemed far to focused on each other to even realize he was there, until the shorter man, dressed in light blues, with a grey scarf and cap on his head, broke away from his partner and turned in Virgil's direction.

"Oh dear- my apologies- didnt see you there-" said the shorter of the two.

"That's the idea," Virgil said quietly, this earned a worried expression from the first boy, the second, dressed in a blue long sleeved shirt with a black bandana around his neck, merely seemed intrigued.

"Are you hiding from someone? Is everything alright?" The first man stepped forward a little, cautiously.

"Oh yeah it's great, been stuck in a pirate ship cell for like two weeks with nothing to go off of but cryptic messages but its fine!" Virgil exclaimed with a sigh, barely caring about the fact that he didnt even know these people.

"Oh dear- that must've been awful," said the first boy.

"You'll have to excuse him, hes never actually interacted with pirates before," said the second boy, fixing his glasses.

"And you have?" Virgil said, looking him up and down.

The boy quirked his mouth slightly, into a sort of half-smirk that he couldnt quite finish.

"Former Lord Admiral Logan Sanders, at your service," Logan said, bowing slightly. Virgil's eyes widened slightly, he pulled the cloak further over himself. If Logan had been in charge of ships at one point, he likely knew about Virgil, and he had no plans to go back to the castle either.

"Nice to meet you," Virgil replied.

"And this is my fiance, Patton Boleyn," Logan said, gesturing to Patton, who gave Virgil a wave and a nod.

"Nyx," Virgil said plainly, though the word felt like bile as he tossed it out, it was the safest thing he had for now, but he certainly didnt want it.

"Oh have I been getting it wrong then? I couldve sworn the queen called out for a Virgil when we brought you on the ship," Virgil froze as he heard Remus' voice, and then he ran. He didnt care where he was going or how long it took to get there, but he wasnt staying on that ship, nor in that castle. He could hear footsteps racing after him, the sound swinging and wind blowing through the air.

And then again, cold metal pressed against flesh.

And then he woke up back where he'd started, a cell with wet wooden planks and a falsely comfortable looking bed.

Only this time he wasnt alone, this time he heard crying, and yells, fury like he'd never heard before.

"Oh quit whining, we're not going to hurt any of you, but we cant have you running off to tattle on us, now be a good prisoner and shut it," Virgil snarled as he heard Remus' voice, he was beginning to hate it, hate every joke that fell from his lips, hate the way he twirled that stupid mustache of his when they talked, all the flirting and the compliments, it was like the captain thought he was to foolish to see what was really going on!

"Ah! Our perfect prince has awoken from his slumber, now tell me Virgie, did you really think it would be that easy to escape?" Remus said, leaning on his morningstar and flashing a grin.

Virgil was about to open his mouth so he could tell Remus where to stuff it, when suddenly, he began to feel sick. Not just a fleeting sickness, either, no, this was like someone had set his insides on fire. He held back the screams for a few seconds, and was surprised to find a worried expression make it's way up Remus' face when he let loose.

"JANUS! MEDIC!" Remus turned and rushed out of the cell room.

Virgil couldn't tell what happened next, because one second, he was curled in a corner and clutching his sides from pain worse than anything he'd ever experienced before, and the next, everything was swirling away into a deep blue and black, almost like a dream.

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Jughead//Forsythe Pendleton Jones III

 Request: Would you write/can I request a Jughead/Reader where you meet when goes to Southside high and hook-up but you both assume once Southside high closes you're going to Greendale/Centerville but you end up at Riverdale high instead

“Forsythe Pendleton Jones III.” Toni interrupts the conversation you’re having and stops in the middle of the corridor abruptly.

“Huh?” You ask, a boy a few feet away from you asks the same thing and the two of you make eye contact for a few seconds. 

“Uh...Its Jughead actually.” The boy replies annoyed while gathering up his things.

“I’m Toni Topaz.” Toni introduces herself. “And this...” She points to you. “Is Y/n Y/l/n. I was supposed to give you the full animatronic tour of Southside High, but...”

“But, some of the robots went insane and started killing the guests.” You interrupt and Toni laughs.

“Like we could afford robots in the first place. So, we’ll just wing it.” She finishes. “Y/n, you coming with?”

“Hmmm.” You think for second. “I was supposed to meet Sweet Pea by the old Chemistry lab so we could cover up the fact that we were the ones that blew it up. But, I suppose he can do it himself, there’s a much cuter boy here.” You wink at Jughead and he blushes softly.

“Ignore her. She’s flirts with everyone.”

“I flirt with everyone that’s cute.” You argue and she rolls her eyes.

“Anywayyyy.” She changes the subject. “The classrooms don’t have Wi-Fi...” She starts to explain while the three of you walk down the stairs.

“Bathroom stalls don’t have doors, so if you need to go, you’d get more privacy doing it in the corridor.” You add and he grimaces.

“What about the school paper? The Red and Black?” He asks and you and Toni share a look.  

“Yeah, it no longer exists. Censorship? Budget cuts?...” 

“The fact that someone printed a dick pic on the front page.” You giggle.

“Take your pick.” Toni sighs.

“Mr Phillips was so pissed.” You laugh. 

“Mr Phillips?” 

“English teacher. He used to run the Red and Black.” You reply.

“Oh.” 

“To your right. You’ll find a glimpse of jingle-jangle being consumed in its natural habitat.” Toni looks beside her once you reach the bottom of the stairs. Jughead starts to break away from the group but you grab his arm, pulling him back.

“Don’t get too close. They’re like horses. And they will bite.” You warn. 

“Jingle-Jangle?”  He asks. 

“Wait.” You and Toni say at the same time. 

“You don’t know what jingle-jangle is?” You ask and he shakes his head, continuing to stare at the group of teenagers. 

“This place is crawling with it. Its a highly addictive, total gutter drug.” She explains. 

“So, lets not touch that.”   

“Jingle-jangle. Fascinating.” Jughead mumbles. You soon approach the cafeteria and Jughead looks...overwhelmed to say the least.

“Here in the cafeteria, Ghoulies sit over there.” Toni points to a table and he looks at the two of you confused. “They're a rival gang.

“They’re also drug dealers, street racers. And there are some rumors of cannibalism.” You add. “Don’t ask.” 

“Weird Tim sits over there.” Toni points to the corner of the cafe. “And we sit over there. With the Serpents.” She points to the table with the loudest students. 

“Y/l/n!” Sweet Pea shouts. “Where were you?!” 

“Joining a rival gang and plotting against you.” You shout back making him chuckle. 

“You could never plot against me! You loveeee me.” 

“Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

“You’re a Southside Serpent?” He asks and you and Toni just stare at him for a few seconds. 

“Did you not notice my jacket?” You reply and he shakes his head.  

 “And why do you think I volunteered to give you the tour?” Toni adds. “Come on.” She nods her head towards the Serpents. You smile at him before sitting beside Sweet Pea.

“Actually, I’m gonna sit alone.” Jughead says and the conversation at the table stops. “Just, you know, finish my book and brood.” 

“More like get beat up.” Sweet Pea mutters and you all laugh quietly. 

“The only person that sits alone is weird Tim.” You tell him. 

 “I’m confused.” Toni crosses her arms and looks him up and down. “Aren’t you Serpent by blood? The son of FP Jones?” 

 “Yeah? So, I self identify as a loner, not a pack animal.” He replies and the laughing grows louder. 

“He’s definitely gonna get beat up.” Sweet Pea whispers and you hit him.  

“I’m just gonna put my head down and try and get through this, okay?” He continues while turning around. 

“Hey!” You call after him and he looks at you, mildly annoyed. “You wanna get through this, you should hang with the Serpents.” 

“If the Ghoulies get a whiff that you’re alone and vulnerable...” Toni interrupts. 

“They’ll make you their bitch faster than you can say American History X.” You finish.

“I think I’ll be fine.” He grumbles making you roll your eyes. “Anything else I need to know?” 

“Don’t go into Mrs Johnson’s class alone.” You reply and he raises an eyebrow.

“He doesn’t need to know that story.” Toni says. “Have fun. Don’t get killed.” She smiles at him sarcastically and he huffs before walking away. 

---------

The last class of the day eventually rolls around and it is definitely the worst one out of all of them. Since lunchtime, you haven’t seen Jughead and you’re starting to worry about him. However he walks into your English class, 5 minutes before it starts and quietly sits down. 

“Fahrenheit 451...” Mr Phillips has been droning on for the best part of half an hour and you, as well as the majority of the class have almost fallen asleep. “By one of my favourite authors, Ray Bradbury.” He continues talking as he walks to the front of the classroom. Your eyes follow him, quickly landing on the back of Jughead’s head. He was frantically writing in his notebook making you shake your head. “Lets start with the title. Can anyone tell me its significance?” 

“What!” Sweet Pea shouts from beside you. “Damn it!” He kicks the wall behind him and shoves your desk as he storms past you. 

“What the fuck Sweet Pea!” You shout after him. Jughead looks between his retreating figure and you and frowns slightly.

“Are you okay?” He leans back in his chair. 

“Fine.” You shake your head. “He has anger issues.” You explain. “As well as a shit ton of others. He’ll text me in a minute to apologize.” You add, just as you tell him your phone buzzes in your pocket and you pull it out. “See.” 

“People.” Mr Phillips speaks over you, and Jughead looks back towards the front of the room. “There’s a burning book on the cover.” He prompts and Jughead looks around. You know exactly what he’s going to do, and it’s not going to end well for him. 

“Don’t fucking answer.” You mutter. “Don’t say anything.” 

“Fahrenheit 451 is the temperature at which paper burns.” He answers and you sigh loudly. Everyone in the class is now looking at him, even the students who weren’t paying attention in the first place, and you can practically hear the brass knuckles and knives being pulled from pockets. “It was a pleasure to burn.” He quotes and you groan. 

“Indeed.” Mr Phillips points to him. “Thank you, Mr...Jones. And welcome to hell.” People start throwing stuff at him and you sigh before standing up. 

“Hey! Mark!” You shout towards a boy near the back. “Stop throwing things at the new kid or so help me God I will tell every single person in this school about the time you tried to fight me and ended up pissing yourself.” You smirk and he looks at the floor. People quietly laugh around you and you send him a sarcastic smile as he sinks in his chair. 

“Thank you.” He mumbles and you smile softly at him. 

“Miss Y/l/n, sit down. You can stay after class. And if you have Sweet Pea’s number, tell him he’s joining you too.” 

“What the fuck! I didn’t do anything!” You argue. 

“Sit down!” He shouts and you roll your eyes before sitting down. The bell rings soon after and everyone moves quickly to get out. You’re one of the first to stand up, grabbing your bag and trying to sneak out, but you don’t get very far. “Y/n.” Mr Philips sighs and you mutter angrily to yourself as you make your way back to your seat. 

“I’ll see you at the Wyrm later.” Toni mumbles as she walks past you. 

“Sorry.” Jughead mouths and you shrug. “Uh...hi? Mr Phillips?” He says anxiously. 

“What the hell are you doing?” You mumble to yourself before watching the interaction.

“Mr Jones.” He replies. 

“Mr Jones.” You say in a mocking tone and he sends you a glare. 

“Y/n was telling me that you used to advise the school paper.” 

“I wouldn’t listen to everything that Y/n says.” He mumbles and you flip him off. 

“I was wondering what happened.” Jughead continues. 

“Drugs and gangs...” He looks towards you and you stand up, ready to defend yourself. “Came to Southside High.” 

“Excuse m-” 

“Trying to get students interested in anything like the school paper was an exercise in futility.” He interrupts. 

“I’m interested.” Jughead says quickly. “And I have experience. When I was at Riverdale High, I wrote for the Blue and Gold.” He explains. “I’ll put in the work.” 

“Your articles online?” Mr Phillips asks. 

“Mm-hm.” 

“I’ll take a look, let you know.” 

“Thanks.” He smiles awkwardly and starts to walk out. 

“Wait up Jones!” You call after him. 

“Miss y/l/n, you have detention remember.” 

“Sorry sir.” You grab your bag quickly and make your way towards Jughead. “I have gangs to affiliate with and drugs to deal.” You say sarcastically before walking out, Jughead following after you. 

“Is he always like that?” He asks, quickly catching up with you. 

“Yep.” You nod. “How was your first day?” 

“Could have been better.” He shrugs. 

“Come on. I’ll take you to the Wyrm.” 

---------

The next few days go by quite quickly considering its Southside High. You and Jughead hang out a few times, and you’ve already saved his ass from Ghoulies, and a few Serpents a fair few times. 

He’s also somehow dragged you into helping him with the Red and Black. Toni would take pictures, and you and Jughead would write the articles. Much to Mr Phillips dismay, however that made you want to do it even more. 

“It’ll be great!” Jughead says enthusiastically and open the curtains in the old classroom. Dust flies around the room and you almost cough up a lung as you walk around the room, making him laugh. He turns and looks around the room. “Its no New York Times.” 

“But, hey, kudos on finding your safe space, snowflake.” You tease. “Toni said she’s gonna join us later. Serpent business apparently.” 

“Thats fine. I don’t mind it being us for a while.” He says quietly and you send him a shy smile. He looks you up and down and is about to say something when the door opens. 

“Y/l/n.” Sweet Pea greets you, a few other Serpents follow behind him and they all send Jughead angry looks. “Lets bounce.” You turn around and cross your arms. “Jones, wanna come with? We’re going to the quarry.” 

“Uh, I don’t have my beach bod yet.” He replies sarcastically making you giggle.

“What?” You’ll ask for help from the Serpents. You’ll get one to protect you.” He points towards you. 

“Here we go.” You mutter. 

“But you won’t hang with us?” He asks, crossing his arms. “Don’t come crawling to us, hat in hand, when some Ghoulie decides to earn his stripes by taking out FP Jones’ kid.” 

“Duly noted. Thank you, Sweet Pea. I appreciate what you and the Serpents have done for me and my dad. I do. But I’m done. Okay? No more favors coming your way.” Jughead replies and Sweet Pea’s expression darkens. He cracks his knuckles and starts walking towards him. 

“Hey, hey. He made up his mind okay?” You stand in between them and push Sweet Pea back. “Take the hint, Sweet Pea. He’s just not that into you.”

“Fine.” He pushes you off him and turns around. 

“Catch you later, Jones.” You tell Jughead and his face drops at the sight of you leaving. “I’ll have a think for some articles. And tell Toni I said hey.” You send him a kind smile before following Sweet Pea and the other serpents out the room. 

--------- 

The next day, you, Sweet Pea and Toni are sat at the lunch table when a familiar Serpent makes his way towards you. 

“This is why we told you not to climb the tree, Sweet Pea.” You and Toni laugh, making Sweet Pea roll his eyes. The laughter dies down when you notice Jughead standing beside you. Sweet Pea glares at him, Toni looks at him expectantly and you send him a warm smile. He returns the smile, completely ignoring Sweet Pea and points to the empty seat beside you. 

“Is this seat taken?” He asks and you shake your head, moving your bag to the floor. Toni and Sweet Pea look at him before continuing their conversation. 

“Don’t worry.” You nudge him. “You’ll get the hang of it. And I’m always around.” 

---------

“Jughead!! Thank god you’re here!” You greet him anxiously before dragging him towards the table. 

“What?” He asks, looking at the laptop in front of Sweet Pea. Toni was on one side of him and Fangs was on the other, a few other Serpents were gathered around looking annoyed. “I assume we’re not looking at cute cat videos?” He looks around confused and you shake your head. 

“We will find you.” He hears a familiar voice come out the speakers of the laptop and his eyes widen. 

“Check this out.” Sweet Pea turns the laptop around to face you and Jughead. “Some sick-in-the-head Northsider posted a crazy-ass video, and we were just talking.” 

“About what?” Jughead asks nervously. 

“Do you know him?” You whisper to Jughead and he nods ever so slightly. 

“Fogarty wants to earn his Serpent stripes.” Sweet Pea smacks Fangs’ back. “I say, bring us that Northsiders head and you’re in.” He continues and a few Serpents cheer. 

“I’m down with that.”

“Boys.” You warn. 

“No, guys. No.” 

“What, Jones?” Toni asks. 

“I know this guy. He’s a football player and no threat to any of you. Its kind of a lame target.” 

“Jughead?” You whisper. 

“You wanna prove something?” He asks. “Why don’t you go after the Black Hood?” 

“Why would we do that?” Sweet Pea laughs. “The black hood’s targeting Nothsiders, who do nothing but blame us for everything wrong with this town. We’re sick of it! The Black Hood’s doing our work for us.” 

“Sweet Pea!” You warn. 

“He’s a hero.” He adds. Jughead looks at him and you place a hand on his shoulder. 

“Come on. We have a paper to work on.” You guide him away, towards the Red and Black room. Once inside you sit down and pull a notebook from your bag. “So, I’ve been thinking. We could run an article about th-” 

“This is fucking stupid.” He interrupts you and pushes a few things off a table. 

“Jughead?” 

“I fucking hate it here.” He huffs, sitting beside you.

“Its not that bad.” You try to make him feel better and he raises an eyebrow. “You’ll get used to it.” 

“I don’t think I will.” He sighs. “I miss the Northside.” 

“I know. But you’ll be okay. You’ll get the hang of it. Plus...I quite like you being here.” You turn to face him, but he’s already looking at you. 

“You’re the only good thing about this damn place.” He tucks a piece of hair behind your ear making you blush. “You don’t deserve to be stuck here.” He adds, his hand cupping your cheek. You lean in, his breath fanning across your face and your nose brushes against his. 

“Y/n!” Sweet Pea shouts, kicking the door open. You and Jughead jump apart from each other, and you stand up quickly. “Fogarty wants us to show him the blind spots around here.” 

“Coming.” You smile at him. “See you later Jughead.” You wave. 

“Yeah, see you.” 

---------

“And thats why if you’re gonna get high at school, make sure that weird Tim isn’t around.” 

“Right. I’ll keep that in mind.” Two weeks had flown by and Jughead is finally starting to get used to life at Southside High. He stopped answering in class by the end of the first week, he doesn’t talk to anyone apart from the Serpents, and he’s figured out how to avoid weird Tim. The two of you are currently on your way to Maths when a red-headed boy approaches you. 

“Jug! Jug!” He shouts and Jughead looks at him wide-eyed. “We gotta go, right now.” 

“Archie, what are you doing here?” He asks annoyed. “Betty ask you to throw salt in the wound?” He adds spitefully and you look at him confused. You knew he was dating a girl, and you were quite thankful that you found that out before you continued where you left off in the Red and Black classroom. 

“Mayor McCoy’s about to raid Southside High.” He interrupts him. 

“What!?” You ask panicked, Archie looks you up and down before focusing his attention back on Jughead. “I need to text Toni, Sweet Pea and Fangs!” You pull your phone out. 

“We gotta get you out of here right now.” Archie continues and grabs Jughead’s coat. “Come on.” He finishes and the front doors open. 

“Shit.” You mutter as Mayor McCoy and Sheriff Keller burst through the door with police dogs. Archie starts pulling Jughead through the crowd towards the back door and you look at him. 

“Wait.” Jughead pushes Archie off. “Come on.” He grabs your arm and pulls you with him. 

“But Toni and Sweet Pea.” You reply. 

“Its too late.” He shakes his head and you looks behind you. Sweet Pea was being pushed against a locker and Toni was being arrested in the middle of the corridor. “You can come back to my trailer.” 

---------

“Here.” Jughead hands you a mug with hot chocolate in and you smile gratefully at him. 

“Thanks.” You smile and blow on the steam. You wrap the blanket further around you and Jughead sits beside you on the sofa. 

“Do you wanna watch a movie?” He asks and you nod. Ten minutes into the movie you turn your attention back to Jughead who is staring intently at the screen. You couldn’t get what he had said about Betty out of your head, so you decide to ask him. 

“What did you mean about Betty?” You ask, placing your cup on the coffee table. 

He sighs and places his mug beside yours. “She broke up with me a few days ago.” 

“Sorry.” You sigh. “That sucks.” 

“Yeah.” 

“Do you know why?” 

“I dunno. It was kind of a blur.” He shrugs and you nod. 

“Sorry.” 

“Its fine.” He replies, a sad smile on his face. “Its for the best anyway. I kinda like someone else.” 

“Ooooo.” You tease, nudging him slightly. Your heart rate picks up at the thought of it possibly being you. “Who is it?” You ask. You look up at him to see him already looking at you. His fingers brush the hair out of your face, the way they did the first time, and he slowly leans in. You were sick of waiting so long, you’d liked him since you met him, so you decide to close the gap between the two of you quickly. He kisses back instantly, his hands going to your waist. 

“Do you wanna continue this in my room?” He asks, pulling away from you. 

“Yes.” You nod quickly and stand up. Jughead grabs your hand and pulls you towards his room. 

---------

A month later, you and Jughead have been hooking up practically everyday and some Serpents were happier than others about it. Everything had been great. However a spanner had just been thrown into the works and everything was starting to fall apart.

News that Southside High was closing down had quickly travelled around and you had just been told were you were going. 

“Wow, Jones, props to you. Its very Lovecraftian.” Toni teases Jughead. They’re sat on the steps at the front of the school, while you stand beside them, leaning over the side. You’ve been distracted all day after being told where you were going. “Which I’m sure was the intention. But I gotta ask you, did you write this on a typewriter?” 

“Err...Yeah. I wanted to get into Lovecraft’s headspace.” 

“So, it wasn’t like Y/n bought you a typewriter for your birthday or anything weird like that?” She asks and Jughead snatches the paper back from her. 

“No comment.” He mutters. 

“Did you?” Toni asks. “Y/n?” She says and you shake your head, looking at her. 

“Yeah?” 

“You okay?” 

“Yea-” 

“WOOOO!” The front door opens quickly and you have to jump back to avoid being hit. Sweet Pea and Fangs walk out, followed by some other Serpents all being very loud.

“Whats up with you two?” Toni asks. 

“You know how Southside High is being closed down?” Sweet Pea asks and they both nod. “We just found out where we’re going.” 

“Where?” Jughead asks. 

“Same as the rest of the Serpents. Riverdale High.” Fangs smiles. 

“Think of all those Northside heads to knock.” Sweet Pea punches Fangs lightly and they started to play fight making you roll your eyes. 

“Great.” Toni mumbles. “School full of stuck up Northsiders.” She sighs. 

“You’re the lucky ones.” You interrupt, gaining the attention of the gang. 

“What do you mean?” Jughead asks and stands beside you. 

You sigh and look at the ground. “Because there are so many students, Serpents and Ghoulies are being split. Serpents are going to Riverdale, Ghoulies are going to Centreville.” 

“And?” Fangs asks. 

“And the remaining of each, as well as weird Tim and the rest of the randoms are going to Greendale. Guess which one I’m going to?” 

“You’re going to Greendale?” Jughead asks quietly, wrapping his arms around you. You nod and he sighs, pressing a kiss to your cheek. 

“Thats fucking bull.” Sweet Pea mutters angrily. 

“Calm down Sweet Pea. You’ll always have Fangs to keep you warm on a cold night.” You tease, trying to lighten the mood. 

“You staying at school overnight now?”

“You never know....” 

“What do you mean?” Toni asks. 

“I might have to move.” 

“What? You can’t move.” Jughead shakes his head frantically. 

“We’ll leave you two alone.” Toni stands up and starts to walking towards her bike. Sweet Pea and Fangs give you a quick hug before following Toni. 

“We can make this work.” Jughead cups your cheeks. 

“How. We’re gonna be going to different schools, I might even have to move. And you’re going to school with your ex. Its never gonna work.” You say, tears flowing down your cheeks. “And I thought I finally had something good in my life.” You mumble and he hugs you tightly.

“Y/n y/l/n. You’re the best thing in my life and I’m not gonna let that go just because we’re going to different schools. So what if I’m going to school with Betty. She’s in my past, you’re my present and hopefully my future?” 

“Are you asking me to be your girlfriend?” You pull away from him slightly and he nods. “You have awful timing.” 

“Is that a yes?” 

“Yes?” You reply before kissing him. 

“You could be on the other side of the world and I’d do anything to see you. I’ll follow you anywhere and everywhere.” 

“Okay.” 

“Its gonna be okay.” He reassures you, pulling you into a tight hug. “Everything’s gonna be okay.” He adds, you have a feeling he’s trying to convince himself too, but you decide not to ruin the moment. 

---------

“Friends! Welcome to Riverdale High.” Veronica greets the Serpents enthusiastically, but Jughead isn’t feeling very thrilled about being back at Riverdale. When he first started Southside High, he would have done anything to be back at here. But now he is here, he’d do anything to be wherever you are. “Jughead.” She looks towards the beanie clad boy and he glances at her. “Nice to see you bac-” 

“Sorry I’m late!” You shout, pushing through the mass of serpents until you’re at the front, standing beside Jughead. “Weird Tim flashed the fucking bus driver again.” 

“Y/n!” Toni, Fangs and Sweet Pea greet you happily, all squeezing you tightly.

“What are you doing here?” Jughead asks shocked and pulls you into a tight hug. “Are you coming here?” 

“No, I’m here for a school trip.” You reply sarcastically. “Of course I am. I was transferred here.” 

“How?” He asks and kisses you. 

“Just a slight incident involving a few students and some fireworks. They transferred me here.” You reply happily.

“Nice!” Sweet Pea laughs and high-fives you. 

“We’re glad you’re back. It didn’t feel the same without you.” Fangs adds.

“Plus, Jughead was moping so much we thought his face was gonna be permanently stuck in a frown.” Toni teases and Jughead rolls his eyes making you laugh. 

“Awwwww.” You tease and kiss his cheek. “Were you really that upset?” You ask and he nods. 

“Of course. I love you.” 

“You love me?” 

“...yeah.” He whispers, a blush appearing on his face and you laugh softly. “I’ve loved you since the day I met you. You were so kind and sweet. A ray of sunshine in the dark of Southside High.” He rambles and you kiss him sweetly.

“I still think its gross.” Sweet Pea rolls his eyes. 

“Shut up Sweet Pea.” Fangs nudges him. 

“But I suppose if you make her happy.” 

“He does.” You nod. “You have no idea.” 

Little Swan Lost Chapter 35

Note: New Chapta! :D Also, awesome fan art made by the amazingly talented @metrosideros-excelsa! Check it out here: https://d3-iseefire.tumblr.com/post/617297103876718592/this-is-so-awesome-i-love-it-thank-you

Bilba sat nervously in a chair that probably cost more than her apartment in Shire and wondered if perhaps she should have chosen to put up with Kyra after all.

When Ori had invited her to breakfast, Bilba had envisioned a quaint little café, like the ones she, Rosie and Bofur had often frequented back in Shire. Small, cozy places with worn vinyl seats and round tables. Tiny windows that let in the light and sounds of birds chirping from outside and muted the quiet clink of silverware and conversation from inside.

King’s Landing was the exact opposite of that.

The restaurant was a sleek, multi-level building located on a rocky plot of land overlooking the ocean. The inside was dark and dimly lit so that it felt as if she’d stepped from the brightness of morning to the gloom of twilight. Circular, leather couches sat around what looked like marble tables and a live violinist paid quietly from a dais in the back corner.

Having never been before, Bilba had asked Cici to pick out her clothing. She’d felt worried she’d be overdressed in the resulting dress and heels but, now that she was here, she was mildly concerned she was underdressed.

Not that she would have fit in either way.

It hadn’t really occurred to her that going to breakfast would be the first time she’d officially appeared in public. Or that the eyes of every noble would be on them as they were led through the dining room to a private room.

If it weren’t for that private room, Bilba was certain she’d have turned around and walked right back out. There was simply no way she’d have been able to sit for any length of time with the weight of all those judgmental eyes on her.

The room itself was as larger than most of those cafes back home with black paneled walls, a black marble table and matching carpet. The only light came from the far wall, which was comprised entirely of glass from floor to ceiling and presented a truly amazing view of the ocean down below.

“So,” Ori’s voice broke into her musings, “what do you think?”

Bilba jumped pulled her gaze away from the window. A plate she hadn’t noticed being brought in sat before her and her stomach rumbled at the sight of the piles of food on it. At least this wasn’t one of those restaurants where they gave you a splash on the plate and called it a meal. “It’s very nice,” she said non-committedly, as she picked up her fork.

She frowned toward the door. Gareth was stationed just outside it, while Cerys stood inside. It felt awkward to be eating while the other woman just watched, but she’d already asked Cerys to join them and the offer politely declined.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Ori asked. “We could have gone somewhere else if you preferred. I just thought – here is already vetted, you know? Anywhere else we’d have needed to wait for security checks, and that would take time and ---”

“And you were helping me avoid Kyra for a day,” Bilba broke in with a small smile. “I know. I just didn’t realize it would be such a—” she waved her hand as she searched for the right word. “Spectacle,” she finished finally.

That was exactly the word for it. They’d have to take a convoy, with multiple cars and she didn’t even know how many guards. Someone had clearly called ahead to let the restaurant know they were coming, and a veritable red carpet had been laid out with the owner and chef ready to greet her and escort her inside.

No one had been unkind, but the entire thing had left her stomach tied in knots. There was simply no way it had gone unnoticed. She had zero doubt that every news organization in town had been alerted to the fact she’d left the palace and the thought of having to face them when she left—

“You made a pretty big step up in rank,” Ori was saying. “And Erebor is a lot larger than Shire. How many guards did you usually have in Shire? Like ten?”

“None,” Bilba said without thinking.

Ori’s mouth literally gaped, and she dropped her fork with a clatter. At the door, Cerys shifted, but said nothing. “None?” Ori repeated, dumbfounded. “How could you have had none?”

Bilba shrugged. “I had a large family, and most of them lived in the capital. I was about as far from there as you could get. Most days, I’m sure there were few who even remembered I existed.”

“You didn’t visit?” Ori asked.

Bilba tried not to flinch. “Sometimes.”

She frowned and tried to focus on her food and not the dozens of reporters probably gathering outside, or the fact that she’d have to deal with watching Kyra fawn over Thorin at meals starting tomorrow.

Why had she thought leaving her room was such a great idea again? She’d love to just go for a walk, maybe visit Bombur and apologize for missing her first day of work, or perhaps see if she could find the college or even the ballet studio she knew existed somewhere in the town.

In Shire, she could have just done it. Here, it would be a whole thing, and even then she probably would have to check with Soren over her schedule and whatever it was she was expected to do for the day.

She absently chewed on her lower lip. She’d never actually promised Thorin she wouldn’t sneak out again, just that she’d alert her security team before leaving. Perhaps if she could think of a way around that...

Or, a petty part of her butted in, she could also tell Thorin she’d give up sneaking out if he gave up prancing about with his mistress all the damn time. He’d probably personally escort her through the passageway on the beach if she were to do that.

Maybe she should.

The second the thought crossed her mind a sour feeling settled over her. Handing him off to Kyra…grated. Not because she wanted him, but just because of how much their relationship was flaunted. An outsider might think Kyra was still his fiancé the way the two behaved and the thought of sitting back and behaving like everything was fine while she was publicly cuckolded was just…degrading.

Ori asked her a question, and Bilba tried to pay attention. She soon became engrossed in conversation with the other woman but stayed careful about what she said. No doubt every word she spoke would be reported to Ori’s husband and brother and the last thing she needed was either of them taking more than a passing interest in her.

The food was gone before she knew it and, after another half hour or so of idle talk, it was time to leave.

Cerys opened the door to the quiet sounds of the other patrons and Bilba tried her best not to panic. Already, she could tell there were far more people out there than when they’d first come in and she wasn’t the least bit surprise to catch a glimpse of reporters gathered in the parking lot past the plate glass front windows.

You’re a princess, she reminded herself firmly. It was imperative she make a good impression, and not just because of her rank or marriage to the crown prince. It was because every time she turned on the blasted TV it was to hear herself being compared to Kyra. She was always found grossly wanting. Every impropriety and misstep the other woman took was glossed over while Bilba was vilified for so much as breathing.

And that was before she had made any official, public appearances. The last thing she needed now was for them to see her falter. It would just prove the slander and lies in their eyes and pour fuel on a fire that seemed destined to burn forever.

Head high, she reminded herself as they headed out of the private room, back straight. Eyes ahead, pleasant expression. She had to tread the fine line between respecting her rank without appearing haughty or arrogant.

She was proud of herself. She didn’t start shaking until they had nearly reached the exit. When the sheer number of reporters in the parking lot became obvious, along with their cameras and other equipment. Several of the male reporters looked quite large and she mentally cringed at the thought of one or more of them grabbing her and trying to drag her over for questions. It had happened more than once in Shire, and the resulting bruises had taken days to fade.

“Your Highness,” Gareth spoke softly as they stopped just before the doors. “Are you all right?”

“Fine,” Bilba said, voice shorter than she’d intended. She really wished everyone would stop asking her that. She could see the limo she’d ridden in parked at the curb just a few feet away but it felt like miles. There were guards that had closed around her the second she’d left the private room, and still more outside, but there’d been guards like that in Shire too, hadn’t there?

Everywhere she’d gone while in the capital her grandfather had made a show of surrounding her with guards. Guards who’d done precisely nothing to keep her safe. If anything, experience had told her to be more afraid of them than of anyone they might have hypothetically protected her from.

Gareth pushed the door open and an involuntary, strangled noise escaped Bilba’s throat. Heat washed over her, and black spots danced in her vision. She felt more than saw Ori next to her, Cerys behind them and Gareth in front. He stepped out and Bilba physically forced her feet to follow.

She could do this. She’d been through worse, much, much worse, and she’d never had a choice on whether or not she wanted to go through it. There was never any choice when her grandfather was involved.

Or, at least, there was never any good choice. Go forward or face the wrath of her grandfather for defying him.

Voices instantly assailed her, so fast she could barely make out the questions, though the ones she could understand seemed to follow a familiar theme.

“Your Highness! How do you feel about the prince having to break his engagement to marry you?”

“Your Highness! Is it true you have a volatile temper?”

“Your Highness! Did you plan this to force the prince to marry you?”

The car appeared in front of her, door already open. Bilba stopped in surprise at having reached it so soon. Past the car, the reporters were still shouting questions at her, but none of them were attempting to surge past the line of guards standing between them and her.

How very odd.

“Your Highness?” Gareth’s voice made her jump. She gave him a shaky smile and slid into the car. As she settled into the leather, she felt the same mixture of relief and trepidation she always did. Limos had always been a blessing and a curse. The blessing was that the windows were tinted while the curse…was that the windows were tinted.

Ori got in, and Bilba was surprised to see her face was pale. Before she could react, the other woman leaned forward and grabbed her hands. “I’m so sorry! I never thought about reporters showing up!”

“It’s okay,” Bilba said with a tight smile. Gareth and Cerys slid in and the door shut, cutting off the shouts and rapid-fire clicks of cameras. She tried not to imagine what the stories would be. Probably something like “Princess Flaunts New Position” or else perhaps a montage of Kyra going to the same restaurant and a comparison of how she’d somehow pulled off breakfast flawlessly while Bilba had failed on every level.

The car pulled onto the street, more cars in front of and behind it, and left the reporters behind to write their stories, and spin them in whatever way they saw fit.

“What are your plans for the rest of the day?” Ori asked.

“I don’t know.” Bilba raised her head from where she’d dropped it against the seat back. “Soren has my schedule, but I have no idea what’s on it.”

“Probably not much,” Ori said. “They’ll probably ease you into things at first.”

Bilba made a non-committal noise, and idly stared out the window as they drove back to the palace. There were people on the sidewalk, going to breakfast, wandering in and out of shops, or hurrying on their way to work. A few stopped to watch as the limos raced past before returning to their routines.

None of them had to worry about reporters, nasty rumors, unwanted husbands or ever-present exes. Once, she’d have been among them, hurrying on her way to grab a morning cup of coffee before heading to her first class of the day. Or maybe she’d be window shopping with Rosie or walking with Bofur back to the studio for an early morning rehearsal.

She might have stopped for a moment to watch as the limos rushed past, but she wouldn’t have wondered about them. Wouldn’t have fantasized about who was inside or what their lives were like. That had been Rosie, and Bilba had done her best not to disillusion the other girl.

Bilba had no need to fantasize. She’d already known what it was like and had been more than happy to have the life she’d led.

More than happy…

Ahead of them, the first limos pulled past the gates leading onto the palace grounds. Bilba watched through the windshield as they pulled up the long, winding drive toward the palace. A fairy tale castle to many a young girl no doubt. Her mind went to little Wynne and she bit back a smile. Moving into the palace must be like a dream come true for her.

Her grandfather’s scheming had brought happiness to one person at least.

The car slid to a smooth stop and one of the guards opened her door. She allowed him to help her out and cast a regretful glance toward the gardens and, further down, the now closed gates leading out to the rest of the city.

Ori came up beside her while Cerys and Gareth took up position behind her.

To her surprise, Soren was waiting for her just past the entrance.

“Your Highness,” he said with a bow. “King Thrain requests your presence immediately. I’ve been sent to escort you to him.”

All the air left Bilba’s body.

“Your Highness,” a cold voice slithered in her mind. “Your grandfather requests your presence, at once.”

“I’ll go with you,” Ori said next to her.

“I’m sorry, Lady Ori,” Soren said, sounding not at all apologetic. “My instructions were to bring only the princess.”

“It’s fine.” Bilba clasped her hands together in front of her and stepped closer to Soren. “Thank you for the invitation to breakfast, Ori. I’ll talk to you later.”

Ori looked uncertain, but there was little she could do about it.

“We’ll get to work on setting up your security team, Your Highness,” Gareth’s voice reached her, and she nodded.

Soren turned away and she quietly fell in behind him, hands still clasped before her. She walked with confidence, or the appearance of it anyway, and kept her eyes fixed on nothing. A trick she’d learned long ago to avoid having to see the smirks, and smug looks on the face of her relatives as they watched her being marched off to the executioner.

If asked later, she could not have said where, exactly, the king’s office was. She felt detached as they walked, her mind wandering to a different place where she didn’t have to face whatever it was that lay before her. Where she was still in Shire, living in her apartment with Rosie and waiting for Bofur to pick her up for a date.

Back in Shire, before she’d met Bofur and Rosie, she’d take herself back even further. Back to before her parent’s had died, when the only grandfather she’d known had been Mungo Baggins. He’d bought her first pair of ballet slippers and been front and center at all of her performances, alongside her parents. He’d always applauded louder than anyone, no matter how small or inconsequential her part.

Sometimes, if she tried very hard, she could still feel the rush of the breeze as he pushed her on the swings at the park or hear his laugh whenever she did something silly to amuse him.

The last time she’d seen him they’d been preparing to take a walk to the next town over. He’d taken her to the store to buy food and snacks to prepare a lunch to have along the way, and they’d spent the evening planning when they would leave the next morning, when they would return and where they would stop along the way. Bilba had even been given a little money to be able to buy a small souvenir or dessert once they arrived.

Everything had been ready, her clothes laid out and sack lunches waiting in the fridge. She’d had a sleepover that night at a friend’s house, and had wanted to make sure everything was ready for when Grandfather Mungo came to get her the next day, so she could just get dressed, grab her bag and lunch and off they’d go.

The walk never took place.

Her parents had died that night and the shock of hearing the news had caused Grandfather Mungo to suffer a massive heart attack.

He’d lingered in the hospital for nearly a week.

She hadn’t been allowed to visit.  

They stopped in front of a large set of double doors, and Bilba pulled herself back to reality. As much as she didn’t want to, there was no other choice when facing her grandfather but to exist in the moment. He did not respond well to her failure to pay attention.

The door opened and she tensed. Soren bowed low in front of her, said something she couldn’t hear over the roar in her ears, and then stepped aside and bowed her in.

She entered and, for an instant, the room shifted and wavered into the one she was so familiar with in Shire. Her grandfather was obsessed with showing off not just his opulence, but also the impression that he was just a kindly old man. His office was homey with thick rugs, overstuffed bookcases and portraits of his family on the walls.

The sight had always made her nauseous.

The door shut behind her with a quiet click, and the room faded into the one she actually stood in. Rough, unfinished stone walls adorned with swords and weaponry. Cold rock under her feet. One, small bookcase with a few books stacked on it, and a large, rickety looking desk dominating the center of the room.

Her new father-in-law looked nothing like her grandfather.

Where her grandfather was usually near smothered in robes and jewels, the king of Erebor wore armor and the only jewelry he sported were beads in his hair and a few rings. Where her grandfather wanted to portray a false image of safety, it was clear that Thrain wished to convey one of threat.

At least he was honest about it.

Piercing eyes studied her, and Bilba dropped into a deep curtsey. Silence stretched, and she silently thanked ballet for giving her strong legs and good balance.

“Rise,” the king said finally, his voice a deep baritone that was very similar to Thorin’s.

Bilba obeyed. “Your Majesty.” She was careful to keep her voice soft and fixed her eyes on the desk.

He made a harrumph sound. “At least you have some training, not that it prompted you to introduce yourself upon your arrival.”

“My apologies,” Bilba said quietly. Part of her wanted to point to the deception by the head housekeeper and head butler but she realized that Thrain must already know. Reminding him would most likely be seen as an insult, or as her making excuses.

Thrain muttered under his breath and leaned forward in his chair, bringing his arms and hands into her view as he rested them on the desk. They were gnarled and craggy, as was the rest of the him, a ruler used to hard work and getting into the muck and mire alongside his subjects. It spoke well of him in one aspect at least. Her grandfather would no more sully his hands than he would allow a perceived slight to go unpunished.

“Now that you’ve finally deigned to show yourself,” Thrain said in a cold voice, “tell me, Your Highness, how it is that you and my son have been married a full month and have yet to produce a child?”

Follow on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1743620/chapters/3723188

Born Wilder

Wow, writing this little something of a fic took way longer than I expected, but I got there in the end. I really needed to get this story out of my system to get my fanfiction mojo flowing again.

This one-shot features my Elenara Lavellan and her companions Varric, Cassandra and Solas in the Hinterlands. After writing Solavellan romance with no specific Lavellan, it’s was so nice to write with one of my OCs again.

Sadly, Elenara and Solas are far away from their relationship in this one, so no sappy romance here, but I enjoyed exploring her thoughts on the Inquisition and being a Dalish among humans before she became Inquisitor. Also, some friendly bonding with Varric at the end, which is always good. Happy reading! :)

Read it on AO3

––––

“So, Chuckles,” Varric said, “is it true you spend most of your time in the Fade?”

 “As much as is possible, yes,” Solas answered with a curious side-glance. “The Fade contains a wealth of knowledge for those who know where to look.”

The dwarf scoffed. “I don't know how you dream, let alone wander around in there. Especially when the shit that comes out of the Fade generally seems... pretty cranky.”

“So are humans, but we continue to interact with them…,” Solas replied with a smile tugging at his lips. “When we must.”

“Point taken,” Varric said.

Cassandra made a disgruntled face. “If you gentlemen are quite finished…”

“Come now, seeker…”

Elenara smiled, despite only half-listening to her companions. She was too busy keeping an eye out for rebel mages or rogue templars in the surrounding forest. It hadn’t been long since the party had stumbled in a battle between both sides and she was not keen to repeat that experience just yet.

They had spent the last week traversing the Hinterlands, running errands on behalf of the Inquisition. Every now and then, Solas or Cassandra urged her to call the retreat, get back to Haven and move on to Val Royeaux to speak to the remaining clerics of the Chantry. Elenara, on the other hand, didn’t want to rush the matter. She was rather happy to be out in the wilderness again, even as an envoy of the Inquisition. The rustling leaves and whispering wind reminded her of a time when everything had been much simpler. Before the sky had been torn apart.

If only she could remember what had happened at the conclave…

 Elenara squared her shoulders, wiping sweat from her brow with one hand. Dwelling on the matter was no use. Her memories wouldn’t return just because she wanted them to. The only choice she had was to focus on what was before her: the refugees that required her help. She had decided that their lives mattered more than her knowing what had transpired at the Temple of Sacred Ashes. And so she hurried through the Hinterlands, doing everything she could to make them feel safe and protected. As if somehow, through her own actions, she could feel safe and protected, too.

Her companions didn’t seem to take much liking to the remote wilderness, though. Varric used any chance he got to complain about the weather, the people, the food, and the lack of proper ale. Even Cassandra, who had been at odds with the dwarf since Elenara met her, seemed to agree with him, but she did not voice her contempt as loudly as he did. Only Solas kept quiet and dismissed any of her questions if he felt ill at ease. “What we accomplish here will one day serve us in our mission to seal the Breach,” he said. “That is more important than my personal comfort.” 

“We’re almost there,” Elenara said when they finally exited the woods and the friendly conversation between her companions came to an end. Looking around carefully, she felt a shiver crawl down her spine. Her gaze was fixed on a small hillside by Dwarfson’s Pass where they had set up camp the night before. It was not much, just a few bedrolls arranged around a campfire, plus a chest in which they had stored some of their supplies. Nothing of value or importance that would draw the attention of scavengers or bandits. And yet, Elenara couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong.

“Hurry,” she shouted and started into a run, racing up the hill with her senses on high alert. Behind her, she could hear Varric groan with exhaustion as he tried to keep up with Solas and Cassandra who followed Elenara with relative ease.

“Shit,” was all she said when their camp came into view.

The bedrolls lay scattered and had clearly been searched, and the chest with their supplies was missing. Whoever robbed than even took the bushels of elf root they had hung on a small rag to dry them before transport.

Cassandra, Solas, and Varric reached the camp shortly after, looking around in confusion. The dwarf swore under his breath, as he searched his bedroll. “Those bastards took my notes,” he exclaimed. “I stored them in a small compartment … ah, nevermind.”

“I’m sorry,” Elenara said and meant it.

“Don’t blame yourself,” Varric said with a handwave. “This should teach me not to leave my writing lying about while I run off to kill people.”

“Do any of you have any supplies with you?” Cassandra asked.

Solas checked his backpack, as well as the small bags on his belts. “Sadly, no,” he told the seeker. “I thought I had some bread left, but come to think of it, I must have placed it in the chest with the rest of our supplies.”

“I only have two bottles of dwarven ale from last night,” Varric added after a quick glance into his baggage. “Sorry to disappoint.”

“Great!” Cassandra growled. “What a perfect mess. The sun is already setting. It’ll be dark before we have the chance to get to Winter Watch Tower to ask for help.”

“I guess you are correct,” Elenara admitted. “But we don’t need to get to the fortress to sustain ourselves.”

Varric raised an eyebrow at that. “What do you suggest, Lavellan? Lie in wait for some travelers to ask them for help?”

“Creators, no.” Elenara shook her head, slightly amused. “You really don’t spend much time out in the wilds, do you?”

“Not, if I can avoid it,” Varric said.

“Well, I’ll take care of this,” she announced and checked her quiver and bow. She had enough arrows left, and the rope in her backpack would come in handy when making snares. “I suggest you go and search for wood to make a fire with before it’s dark. I’ll be back in no time.”

With that, she turned on her heels and made her way down the hill again. The prospect of being alone in the woods – truly alone – made her feel giddy and foolish like a little girl. Keeper Deshanna wouldn’t have liked it.  

She was already half-way down the hill when behind her Solas asked. “Where are you going, lethallin?”

Elenara turned to smile at the apostate. “The wilderness contains a wealth of sustenance for those who know where to look,” she said and spread her arms wide.

***

She returned to the camp with two small nugs as her prey. The dead animals were dangling for a piece of rope she had used to tie them together. She hadn’t even needed her arrows to kill them. All she had done was laying out a few snares in the undergrowth and wait for the creatures to walk into her traps. For an experienced hunter like her, it had been an easy task, as simple as putting on clothes. Still, Cassandra and Varric eyed her suspiciously when she presented the animals to them.

“Our dinner,” she told them and dropped the nugs next to the fire.

Varric stared at her in disbelieve.

“That was remarkably quick,” Cassandra said, brows furrowed. “You’ve been away for what… three hours?”

Elenara made a vague gesture. “Give or take.”

She relieved herself of her backpack, quiver, and bow, and placed all of her belongings on her bedroll. Her companions had used her absence to rearrange the camp and get a decent fire burning. Solas was stoking the embers with a stick, making the flames grow higher while Elenara searched for her hunting knife.

“Nugs are fine and all,” Varric said, nibbling at one of the bottles of dwarven ale he'd carried around with him all day, “but how exactly are we going to eat them?”

Solas let out a soft laugh but didn’t dare look up from the dancing flames.

“Anything on your mind, Chuckles?” Varric growled.

“No, I’m fine. Thank you,” the apostate said, lips still pursed in a smile.

“Sure.”

Elenara found the hunting knife in her backpack and removed it from the leather sheath she stored it in. The steel blade reflected the light of the campfire as she turned it in her hand, marveling at its beauty. It had been a gift, given to her by her childhood friend Erendir when she had come of age. “It’ll serve you good, wherever you go,” he’d said.

She wondered where he was now. What he might think of her.

I will do everything within my power to keep you and the clan safe, she thought and turned her gaze to the sky. The Breach was only a faint shimmer in the darkness but she could feel it lingering on, waiting for her to return to Haven.

Focus on what is before you, she reminded herself, sat down cross-legged and freed one of the nugs from the rope. Without giving it much thought, she pierced through the skin of the animal with her blade and made a set of cuts. She stripped the skin from the nug with a quick  thrust  , and Varric made a disgusted sound.

“Andraste’s ass, Lavellan!” he exclaimed, leaning away from her with one hand raised as if he was trying to defend himself against an attacker. “Please tell me, you did not just do that!”

Elenara grinned. She liked Varric, but he had lived behind the walls of Kirkwall for far too long. With his fondness for city living, he could barely manage to endure a bit of rain without complaining. To shock him like this was mildly amusing to her, to say the least.

“Where did you think meat comes from, Varric?” Cassandra asked. When the dwarf didn’t answer, the seeker turned her eyes back to the nug and pressed her lips into a thin line. “Though, I do admit it looks more… invasive than I expected."

“You'll get used to it.” Elenara put a stick through the skinned nug and placed it on the fire, then picked up the second one. “There’s something satisfying about it, too. To know that you brought in the food to sustain yourself.”

“I’d rather bring in more bottles of these, thank you very much,” Varric said, waving around the dwarven ale.

“As a merchant, you certainly enjoy that privilege,” Solas admitted and stopped stoking the fire. He sat down and wrapped his arms around his legs, regarding Varric intently. “You are a successful businessman, are you not? Besides being a well-renowned author, I mean.”

“And here I was, thinking you didn’t mind what’s happening in the real world, Chuckles,” Varric said gleefully. “You continue to surprise me.”

And so the two of them picked up their conversation of Solas’s exploration of the Fade as if no time had passed. Elenara would’ve been happy to listen to them while she waited for the meat to be roasted by the fire. As distant as the elven apostate behaved towards her, she enjoyed Solas’s tales about memories he had found in ancient dreams. But this night, all she could think about was how strange the life of the Dalish must seem to other people if even an experienced adventurer such as Varric was grossed out by something so mundane as preparing the meat for cooking.

Taking care of her food – be it meat or bread or berries – was as natural as breathing to her. It was a necessity when spending your life as a traveler. But that wasn’t the only thing she had learned with her clan. She knew how to weave and knit and sew. Or how to read tracks and take care of the halla in their little pens. She even helped repair the aravels on more than one occasion. And she’d done all of it gladly to serve the Lavellan clan. Such hardship had seemed like a small price to pay if it meant that her family stayed safe and fed, and she’d spent a lot of time practicing and making use of her talents.

With the Inquisition, however, none of these talents seemed to matter anymore. Every morning she awoke in her cabin in Haven, a servant had already made breakfast for her. Before she had time to finish the meal, someone else showed up to bring her new clothing or clean the room for her. She’d known that humans lived very differently compared to the Dalish, and when she joined the Inquisition, she had been sure she could attune to this new lifestyle. And yet, after weeks, it still felt so inherently wrong that she ran off into the forest to hunt on her own at first chance. Out there in the woods, the world had finally made sense to her once more.

Like so many Dalish, she’d been born out in the wilderness. Roaming the vast plains and lush forests of the Free Marches had been second nature to her ever since she had come into this world. And although there had been a time when she had wished she could venture away from the clan to explore some old ruin or seek out education form human scholars, she never truly wanted to leave her old life behind. It was ingrained in her mind and body, her very being. It was who she was.

She only hoped she could go back to the life she lived before when the Breach was sealed.

“Hey, Lavellan,” Varric roared. “Are you still with us?”

Elenara blinked. “Wh–what?”

The dwarf laughed. “You must have been very far away,” he said and tapped a finger to his temple. “I asked you three times if you wanted to share a story with us, but you wouldn’t respond.”

“Oh.” She shifted on her bedroll, trying to push the feeling of embarrassment aside. “Really? I’m sorry. I was… distracted.”

“Yeah, I could see that,“ Varric replied with a roguish grin on his face. “So, do you have a story to share?”

She looked around, taken aback by the dwarf's request. Even Solas and Cassandra seemed interested in what she had to say, which only added to her confusion.

“Why would you care to hear it?” she asked suspiciously.

“We all have something that defines us. Some story we tell ourselves about who we are and who we want to be.” Varric gestured towards Cassandra. “The seeker, for instance, talks about duty all the time, because that is what defines her. Chuckles here can’t shut up about the Veil and the Fade, because that is what defines him.”

Solas narrowed his eyes. “I don’t always talk about the Fade.”

Varric gave the apostate a skeptical look, then turned his attention back to Elenara. “Point is, Lavellan, besides you spying on the conclave and doing your best to seal the Breach, I couldn’t help but notice that we don’t really know much about you.”

“Won’t you be disgusted by the barbaric Dalish customs?” she asked pointedly and nodded towards the nugs that still roasted over the fire.

“You take me far too seriously, Lavellan.” Varric laughed again. “One more reason why we should get better acquainted, don’t you think?”

A faint smile tugged at Elenara’s lips. “There is one story, actually.”

“That’s great.” Varric took a sip from his bottle. “Let’s hear it. The meal won’t be ready for another hour anyway, I guess."

Elenara stretched out on her bedroll, head propped on one hand. “One day, the clan was camped outside of Starkhaven…”

interview | zach villa - schonmagazine.com

As the infamous Night Stalker, Iowa-born actor Zach Villa is a chaotic evil in the latest series of American Horror Story. Entitled AHS: 1984, the show plays off the hopes and tropes of the 1980s, incorporating elements from films like Friday the 13th and Halloween into a spine-tingling thrill ride. The chief villain of the series is Villa’s Richard Ramirez, a reality-based serial killer set on making the lead characters’ lives a living hell — quite literally.

In real life, however, Villa is an obvious contrast. A multihyphenate with a strong career across a range of disciplines, he first caught the attention of the mainstream from his collaboration with Evan Rachel Wood in the project Rebel and a Basketcase. Now, as AHS: 1984 keeps audiences around the world thoroughly spooked, Villa opens up to Schön! about growing up in Iowa, his willingness to collaborate with Taylor Swift, and the unexpected call that announced his role on American Horror Story.

How did you get your start in acting?

Well, I’ve been on stage since I was two, so the whole shebang started quite early. Acting, oddly, was an afterthought when I first started. I had been dancing and singing on stage for years, idolising great song-and-dance performers like Gene Kelly, Donald O’ Connor, and Sammy Davis Jr. when it occurred to me that I should probably focus on learning the craft of acting if I wanted to continue pursuing that particular path in the entertainment industry. I had focused intensely on two out of the three “triple threat” disciplines, so I guessed it was time that I figured out the third part. It was an accessory to being able to perform musical theatre roles more effectively, and I guess that backfired in a sense and became a more central focus as I developed.

Iowa isn’t the most common birthplace for a big-time actor. What does your family — and presumably other Midwestern relatives — think of your journey into Hollywood?

They are both thrilled and confused. Don’t get me wrong — my family is very happy for me, and while we have had our spats over the years about whether or not I should be pursuing a highly volatile, financial unstable career, they have ultimately come through and rooted for me and my success.

That being said, I think pursuing a career in the mainstream entertainment industry is a very singular experience. Unless you’ve lived it and hit the pavement in NYC, L.A., etc., it’s very hard to understand the day-to-day struggles of a performing artist. I think that certain regions of the country are — generally — a majority of media consumers as opposed to creators, and there is a disconnect between the public and those of us pursuing an arts career that propagates the fallacy of things being easy and breezy, since you don’t have to get up every day at 6 AM, go to the office, and then come home and make dinner. People see that lack of structure as undisciplined and fancy-free. Let me tell you, it’s anything but. Artists have to hit the pavement in a very different way that is highly varied from day to day, and that uncertainty introduces a unique kind of stress, in addition, to actually trying to be good at your job. I always say that booking work is my “job” as an actor, and when I actually book a gig, that’s where the job ends and the craft and career begins. Translating that to someone without firsthand experience can be infuriatingly difficult.

Where were you when you found out about landing AHS: 1984 and the scope of your role? What did you do?Who did you call first?

I was in the studio recording an audiobook — one of the many ways that this particular actor has been able to supplement their income, and it has been such a gift. I was waiting on the call, and I stopped narrating mid-sentence — much to the puzzlement of my audio engineer — and picked up. I got the news, opened the door of the vocal booth and leaned against the front wall, sliding down to a sitting fetal position, and started to tear up. I called a few close friends and family and walked around for the better part of an hour mildly freaking out. The studio staff secretly went and bought a bottle of champagne down the street, and after I finished my page quota for the day they surprised me with a toast. Then everything in my life became a blur.

Of course, without spoiling anything, what can you tell us about your role as Richard Ramirez in AHS: 1984?

Oh, that’s a very difficult question. Richard Ramirez was a real person. I am playing a character that shares his name and is informed by him and his history. Beyond that, you’ll just have to wait and see.

What was the most memorable moment from shooting the series?

I can’t say my absolute favourite without revealing secrets! But I’ll say that the encounter with the hiker in episode two was quite “fun” — if you can call pretending to murder someone “fun.” The makeup and FX team on the show is the best in the biz, and the blood rig that was used in that scene was just wild. It was messy and crazy, and [there was] high pressure to get it right in one take, and I loved it.

What’s your method for getting into character, both in the weeks and moments leading up to a shoot or performance?

I have to play these cards close to the chest. Some of it is instinct. I just feel as though I am inside the character’s head at some point after spending enough time with the material, but it’s different with each role.

Sometimes I need to know how they sound, sometimes it’s historical research. It’s ALWAYS spending an exorbitant amount of time with the script — that’s the golden rule for me. Whether its Shakespeare or the 200th episode of Friends, you have to start with the text as an actor, and the most minute differences in phrasing, punctuation, word choice, etc. are clues to how this person operates as a human being and in the world. I always come back to the text. Any other secret sauce that I do I’ll keep secret for now.

What’s been the most challenging part of playing a character like this?

I’ll modify the question to ask what’s the most important part of playing a character like this… and that, I think, is being able to let it go at the end of the day — which I don’t always succeed in doing. Sometimes after an intense shoot it takes me a minute to let go of the energy I was carrying around on set. I pride myself on being able to flip in and out, but that is challenging from time to time for me on this particular project.

If you could only watch one film and one television series for the rest of your life, which would you choose?

The Back to the Future Trilogy for movies and Battlestar Galactica for TV. Nerd alert.

Apart from acting (and dance) you’re also well-versed in music. How did you begin as a musician?

The same time that I started hearing it, so very, very early. Growing up with a dance studio attached to your house, you hear a lot of very diverse music over the years. That all seeped into my subconscious, and I was writing full-on symphonies in my head walking through the woods in Iowa when I was seven or eight years old. Mind you, I didn’t have the skills to put that into writing or notation — and still don’t, not for the symphonies anyway.

I learned how to read music by playing the violin in elementary school. I didn’t pick up a guitar or actually start producing original music in any tangible way until my junior year at Interlochen Arts Academy. There, my roommate Filip — a wildly talented self-taught metal guitarist and visual arts student from Macedonia — taught me things here and there, and I also taught myself by ear. The Internet, man.

Who are some other musicians with whom you’d like to collaborate?

St. Vincent. Top of the list. Blink 182 — a childhood dream. Jimmy Eat World. John Mayer but only if he lets me be in his next ridiculous green screen music video. Mac Ayers, Tears For Fears, Snail Mail, and oh, I dunno… Taylor Swift. Come at me.

Who are your biggest musical inspirations? And what have you been listening to lately?

Biggest? That’s tough because it changes with each project. Tower of Power is a huge influence for me. My first band was funk-based, and man, they are so groovy. If you don’t know, now you know go listen to them. St. Vincent. Jimmy Eat World. And, regardless of the drama surrounding this artist from time to time, John Mayer. He really is one of the great guitarists of our generation, and more importantly, the songwriting that he produces is top-notch. I’ve learned a lot from diving deep into his material over the years. Miles Davis, and jazz in general, is huge for me. Brain fuel. Listening lately to Sleater-Kinney’s new record, Knuckle Puck, and a lot of 2000s pop-punk.

What else can we look forward to from Zach Villa — be in 2019, 2020 or later?

World domination.

The track on the video content [for this shoot] is the first single — a tease if you will — of my new solo project. Go check it out. My band Sorry Kyle will be dropping a ton of music over the next few months if you’re into punk and emo.

And that’s just music. Acting-wise, post-AHS I’m waiting to see what comes down the pipe. I’m always creating. I want to be fluid in music, movement, film and TV, directing, etc. There’s no time like the present and the present is, well, now. So hang on tight.  

Can you do Marinette for next character ask/ml sugar pls?

Why I like them: Despite being immature in many ways— I guess by that, I mean her obsessive behavior, but really guys… she *just* turned 14. You know who else is 14? 1D fanfic writers (but more on that later)— in other ways, she’s more mature than adults. First, she’s self-aware, and she’s willing to take responsibility/humble herself when the time comes. Even though a lot of this is because Tikki guides her, it means a lot that she actually listens. I know so many adults that would rather be petty. 

And when I say self-aware I mean a lot of things. For one, she understands when she’s doing something… mm… not so great. Many of these things are for comic relief/exaggeration/situational comedy/slapstick (which is pretty much the extent small children get from it), but it’s still evident that she feels guilty or hesitant. 

does that look like the face of someone who’s comfortable with her own actions? 

Kids who watch heroes look for (and need) confidence and justice. Neither of which are happening in this scene or in some others, and from the kids that I know… they’re totally aware of it. Some might blatantly shout at Marinette as they watch her do something wrong, others might not say anything but… trust me they aren’t taking notes. 

The thing is, I’m glad she’s a main female character… who screws up…. a loT. The hero isn’t supposed to be perfect, and I mean that in a general way. Flat villains are perfect in their own realm, so I don’t think imperfect characters are only better for writing, they’re better people or can become better people. A perfect individual is a comfortable and consistent one, a person needs ups and downs to improve. 

It’s a bit like kim possible, except Marinette commits more errors because she’s younger and less adventurous… so in a way she’s a bit naive to the world (Kim Possible may as well be an ambassador, so she’s cultured and still makes really cringey mistakes eyes the wheelchair episode). We grew up watching her make these mistakes so we could see them get fixed, if they never happened we wouldn’t know for better or for worse. What’s more, it’s most important coming from the main character. So… I’m proud of her. 

Another thing is that she watches her own behavior in the future. She’s learning to trust that Adrien won’t fall for Lila’s gags, she’s learning to talk to him and move away from being a fan (bluntly pointed out in Troublemaker, she actually sees herself as more of a fan than as a friend. Yes, she was lying to cover herself, but she had pictures of all of her friends up… she didn’t use friendship as an excuse? And why did the excuse come to her so naturally? It might be obvious, but she gets flustered and doesn’t come up with good lies… honestly ‘because im a fan’ is pretty fair), and she’s learning how to treat Chat Noir. 

I would almost say in Season 1 that Ladybug was pretty flippant to Chat Noir, and I know it was cute at times but people usually behave this way with someone they feel close to already… so why didn’t she ever take the time to take him seriously? Ever since Glaciator, Ladybug has learned how sensitive he is. She didn’t judge him so quickly as to assume that he felt entitled to her, or that he was throwing a simple/unimportant tantrum that could be shrugged off. She took the time to read into the situation and see what exactly was going through his head. Emotions are never a joke, especially in a city where someone like Hawkmoth is a concern. She was cool and collected like a therapist, especially because she sympathized where his feelings were coming from (not too long before she had gotten upset with some ice cream man that was just doing his everyday thing and ditched her friends because she felt hopeless and betrayed by Adrien). Granted she never said anything against him, but she didn’t get forced into a situation where she had to confront him either. 

She also knew that reacting harshly would only make things worse, and then neither of them would get off from their high-horse. Compassion is what gets a person to reflect and feel respected. She looked him sincerely in the eyes and apologized, and she expected the same from him. She set the stage, and he responded. They ended up fine, and he even reacted well to the infamous ‘friendzone’, because well… he treasures friends too, and he didn’t know Ladybug considered him to be one. Ladybug was surprised, but now that she knew he had felt abandoned not only that night but since the beginning, she took note that he has trouble reading when a person cares about him deeply (and we all know he does, his love receptors are broken both in his household and as seen in the most recent ep). 

She is much softer with him now but very explicit. She doesn’t beat around the bush, she tells him exactly what he needs to hear. 

“Chat Noir! You know you’re irreplaceable.” 

Look at that face, he knows now that you said it. 

It’s actually quite motherly… I mean this is a perfect response. She adjusts to the needs of her friends accordingly rather than treating them equally, because friends don’t always need the same thing. Equity over equality. She’s an excellent example and so much more than the “Huff… I’m a strong independent woman and I don’t care about men and if anyone ever sasses me I’ll choke them. Also I don’t paint my nails, that’s for babies” You can be strong and independent without sacrificing any of these things. It’s not about making enemies, it’s about standing up for yourself— and those you care about. 

I could look for so many examples of how she looks out for her friends and makes sure to mind their feelings and experiences before getting all defensive, but that would be… the entire show. 

She’s imperfectly perfect and perfectly imperfect. 

Favorite episode (scene if movie): Zombisou... and maybe Chameleon and Oniichan. She was angry about so many different things and had so much pressure on herself— including the fact that in each of these she had to protect/comfort/defend someone anyone else in their right mind would rather spit on. But Marinette is noble, she knows how to keep herself together when she needs to. When it comes down to it, the people she’s so angry with are human too. They have hearts with burdens of their own that she doesn’t even know about, if something were to happen to them she would care. She has the responsibility to keep them safe, but also she wants to. There’s a difference between a pain in the ass and a monster, and besides she isn’t the judge of the universe, it’s not her place to decide what someone gets and doesn’t get. Maybe they aren’t getting everything they deserve, but if every human being got what they deserved we’d all be struck dead by lightning. 

And she certainly doesn’t wish death upon them. And as we’ve all noted, whether it’s seen publically or not... what goes around comes around. 

Favorite season/movie: Season 2 wins again... for now, it aint over yet

Favorite line: Uhh... dang it this again... how about the one above? “You know you’re irreplaceable?” and every other uwu line she has. She is so soft hhuhhggn 

Favorite outfit: The cute lil maid outfit from Animaestro

OTP: Well it’s the same as what I put for Adrien, Marichat. For noncanon... mmm.. I think Kagaminette but Ninette is p damn close 

Brotp: I mean??? ALyanette duh. But you know since right now Ladynoir is technically platonic.... they’re pretty lit as bros too (marichat is too but so far fanon is the only place they’ve truly become bro bros) 

Headcanon: She wouldn’t have all of those pictures of Adrien if she felt even remotely close to him. I think those fics where she has photos up of Chat Noir should be canon, just like how she has ones of her friends, but she has soo many of Adrien which sets him apart from friendship like I said before. She’s insecure and taking advantage of the fact that he’s famous af, none of us can truly relate to having access to so many amazing photos of our crushes... and to sort of continue with the next question..

Unpopular opinion: These days a phone’s photobook may as well be a private wall to hang pictures on so really... Marinette is an exaggeration of exactly what people do— mostly young girls, which she happens to be— and hey get off of your crushes Instagram while you’re at it. It’s actually pretty normal, it’s not the best behavior but again, you need to have that cringey low to climb higher. And anyhow it’s all for the joke of it, no one is supposed to take these things seriously. But I’ll let you all know when my younger cousins start hanging up stalker photos of their noncelebrity crushes “because marinette did it so it must be ok” 

Honestly, not even the borderline ooc things are that bad. Like... they’re bad... but it’s a good thing to show, as in it’s not too horrendous to use as an example. It works because it’s so unrealistic, but with very real behaviors that kids need to address in themselves by watching Marinette. I would say some of her actions straddle between IC and OOC, not either-or. 

(WARNING: Do not read on if you have intensely strong feelings toward L/u/k/a to the point of sensitivity over any mild criticism as a character or as he is written. If you’re pretty chill reading anything then you’re fine, I didn’t say anything cruel I only gave an opinion as mildly as I could. The point of the honest opinion section is not to be salty but to express my point of view without insults)

Her crush on Adrien at this point in time is no more or less unhealthy than her crush with L/u/k/a— which is still unclear because for some reason In Silencer she still looked like she was on the brink of deciding she had a crush. She’s kind to L/u/k/a and he’s kind back, but she isn’t very nice. The difference is that it’s not very nice to ask someone on a date to spy on your main crush, it’s not very nice to indulge in the affection someone gives you as a chew toy while you wait for your crush and try avoiding the guy who is deeply in love with you and you sorta like him too. (He fell for her incredibly quickly and she did too despite feeling insulted by him moments before, unfortunately he’s a fallback she feels almost nothing for and she’s directing her ‘oh-no-feelings-for-someone-who-isnt-adrien’ chat noir attack to l/u/k/a because with him, she knows its easily uprooted).This goes back to the importance of not always being at your best behavior for a child audience to learn from you, but my unpopular opinion is that she and Adrien are not toxic and she and l/u/k/a are not a godsend. He’s also the equivalent of a High school sophomore dating an 8th grader? So... it’s kinda weird that he’s advancing? (I censored his name for the sake of avoiding conflict, I’m stating this for the unpopular opinion and I said it in as straight as I could because I don’t want salt to touch this. I respect L/u/k/a as a character, he’s a good boy. I’m disagreeing and agreeing to disagree by trying not to engage.) 

Wish: Please, let her find out Chat Noir’s identity first... I beg you. 

An oh-god-please-dont-ever-happen: Except don’t let the reveal happen right after one of them is rejected... that... that would be really bad. 

5 words to best describe them: Noble, responsible, creative, strong, kind

 My nickname for them: I like Marigold and Shortcake, I’ve used them in fics and I cry

anyway she’s one of the best protags don’t @ me when I have kids they’ll be watching her and adrien and they will be who they’re raised on

The Lesser of Two Evils

Season 15 fanfic starting exactly at the ending of Season 14.

For anyone who would like to have an easier reading experience here’s the link to the story

https://archiveofourown.org/works/20647562/chapters/49221047#workskin

SPOILERS FOR SEASON 14

CHAPTER 4/? WIP

Summary: Sterling has a rather rude wake-up call only, where is everyone? How long has she been asleep?

Chapter 4: Is it Enough?

At first it was the sounds, there was scuffling sounds that sounded like a massive hoard of rats were climbing up the walls. She took a moment to tune out the sound of a choked alarm squealing a high pitch tone ringing loudly in her ears. Once the decibels were at a reasonable level she heard faintly in the distance, a loud bellowing, after she attuned her ears a bit she realized it was someone bellowing orders of some kind. Sterling slowly blinked as she tried to look to see what all the fuss was about, but when she opened them all she saw was darkness with bright flashes of red lights. The strobe effect was slightly nauseating but was dealt with easily and immediately as she learned to ignore it. The first thing she saw within the room was that she was alone. “Well, can’t blame them. No idea how long I’ve been out.” Grasping her surroundings, she sent out her being to get a gauge on what the hell was going on, before immediately calling it back as a large group of about ten to fifteen undead waltzed into the infirmary. Sterling wasn’t quite sure if she was up for physical movement in her vessel at the moment, but she wasn’t about to test whether or not they would like the taste of her flesh.

In the war room Sam, Dean, and Donna were on the upper level fighting to get down to the first floor. Swiping at knees every which way they could, Donna was trailing behind the boys on the stairs down.

“Lucky we got back when we did eh?” Donna winced as she finished stabbing both knees off the last zombie on the higher level.

“We should’ve never went on that hunt!” Dean shouted while he decapitated a walker in front of him and gouging the knees out of another immediately afterward. The body of the headless dead was still reaching out and going for him as if the loss of its head was merely just a scratch.

“Dean!” Sam shouted as he turned around in time to spot the glaring walking issue.

“I know!” Dean hissed as he spun around after finishing another one to utilize his machete in slicing the legs directly out from under the headless marionette. “Don’t go for the heads.”

“GIRLS, YOU SAFE?!” Donna shouted at the top of her lungs.

“Yea, we’re on our way!” Came a shout from toward the kitchen.

“HOW MANY HAVE YOU GOT?!” Sam shouted genuinely worried.

“Only six left here!” Jody called as she neared the war room.

Dean trudged over toward the last one in the war room and removed both legs and the head before stomping toward the kitchen.

“DEAN IS ON HIS WAY TO YOU!” Sam shouted back. The look on Deans’ face was somewhat reminiscent to when he bared the mark of Cain. A look of pure rage that was needing to be let out. Sam didn’t dare address him about it now, but he’ll get to it later when Dean had a chance to breathe.

“INFIRMARY!” Shrieked Alex.

“SOMEONE GET TO THE INFIRMARY!”

Sam spun on a dime and ran as fast as he could with all the strength he could muster. Alex was close to the war room at that time and was doing her best to book it there as fast as her legs would let her. Sam was already at the doorway when she just joined him to see Sterling standing in the center of the room. Blood soaked her gown and she was standing amidst the semi-moving bodies scattered around her. Her hands gripped an athame that Rowena had left in the room from one of the many spells she tried to use to get the girl to wake. She turned slowly realizing there were people here now.

 “What a way to wake up.” Smirked Sterling.

 Sam and Alex were too stunned to say anything, but Alex was the first one to move toward her slowly.

“Woke up and these… things… just waltzed in. I didn’t even… think I…” Sterling looked down at the athame she held in her hand that was covered in old blood and grime from all the knees and heads she took off.

At that moment Dean and the rest of the entourage came running in prepared to fight whatever needed killing. They remained silently stunned as Alex placed a somewhat smudged calm hand on Sterlings’ that was gripping the athame as tight as possible.

Sterling gasped at the touch and loosened the grip to let the athame drop to the floor with a satisfying ting.

“How…” she swallowed as her brow furrowed in worry, “How long have I been out?” She looked first at everyone agape in the doorway, then to Alex who was wearing a warm smile that shifted to slight sadness.

The pit in Sterlings’ stomach dropped.   “No…”

  “Three weeks.” Alex choked as she tried not to cry. For joy, for relief, in empathy? She couldn’t tell, but the look of utter shock on the strangers’ face as her knees were starting to give out. Alex grasped under her arm to aid her in lowering her down if needs be, but the stranger remained steadfast, though her knees wobbled a bit.

  “Three…” She gasped as she shook herself from Alexs’ grasp and ran her bloodied hand through her hair and covered her mouth with the other as she spun around to avoid any and all eye contact. “504 HOURS TOO LONG! I’VE BEEN GONE TOO LONG! I never would’ve thought… I don’t have time for… And I wasn’t able to find even a shred!”

  “DAMN IT!”

  Tears were threatening to fall from her eyes but with a deep breath she forced herself to get a grip as she spun back around, shocking Alex who seemed as if she was about to gently grasp her shoulder. Sterling cleared her throat as she wiped her nose with the back of her hand not realizing she had wiped blood on the lower half of her face.

“First thing’s first. Let’s get you cleaned up, then we’ll talk.” Alex spoke to her with a soft soothing voice she got used to using in her profession. Only this time she really felt like she meant it. She placed a calm hand on the strangers’ shoulder and guided her with her other arm toward the shower rooms.

“Can someone get the lights? Kinda hard to see in here!” Alex called behind her to the still dumbstruck group idling in the doorway.

Taking the hint Sam and Dean took to getting to the electricals to turn off the alarms and flick back on the lights. After a half hour to catch their breath Jody, Donna, and Claire started cleaning up the mess of moaning and squirming bodies in the infirmary, leaving the war room for the boys to handle. Grabbing as many lawn size garbage bags as they could from the stock room they first started dismantling the bodies into smaller pieces. The strobing red lights flicked off and the warm glow of the florescents blinked on in their wake, making the scene in the war room look like child’s play compared to the infirmary.

“Good God.” Mumbled Donna. “It’s like a slaughterhouse in here.”

“Makes you wonder who this chick is.” Joked Jody as she stuffed a squirming severed arm into her fresh bag.

“Surprised Rowena didn’t sense her waking up.” Claire thought outloud, “She said she placed a spell or something, she would spawn back.”

“Where’d she go anyhow? I missed that one.” Donna inquired as she stuffed a severed head into her nearly full bag.

“Said she was going back to her place to find a book. Something to wake her up, or something. And for… you know…” She stuttered; the memory of that conversation was a bit distant at the moment after fighting for your life just a half hour ago.

“Well, I for one am glad to see her awake at least. Although, can’t say much about her yet. We don’t even know her name.” Jody chuckled. The thought that even Alex forgot to ask was a joke in and of itself.

 “Hey ladies need some help?”

 Jody and Donna spun around to find a dirtied and still fuming Dean standing in the doorway holding a handful of garbage bags looking at the utter mess clearly for the first time.

“Whoa.” He breathed, shocked at the sight.

Jody gave a look to Donna as if having a silent conversation with each other using only their eyes. They had gotten quite good at it over the time they knew one another.

“Sure bud. You can start in the center there and we’ll all meet in the middle.” Donna pointed to a particularly large body that was squirming in the center that was a bit too big for the tired girls at the time. He was on it in a flash, wasting no time in separating body parts to stuff in his bag. Sam appeared in the doorway silently watching Dean and looking to both Donna and Jody. They knew.

“I’m going to start up dinner, sandwiches sound good to everyone?” Sam sighed anxiously, showing his growing worry for Dean subconsciously.

“Sounds great Sam.” Jody said as she gave him a warm smile.

“Super-duper.” Called Donna.

“Yep.” Called Claire in slight annoyance.

Dean didn’t answer as he hefted the remaining main body onto his shoulder with his full bag in tow and made his way to the back door to the awaiting pile of squirming bodies outside. Sam left them to begin getting dinner together.

 “It’s gotten worse huh?” Donna whispered to Jody.

“Oh yea.” Jody sighed. “This time went a bit smoother though, without this whole… zombies in the bunker situation. How’d they even get in here anyway?”

“I got no clue.” Donna answered stuffing another nondescript part into her overly full bag. “Don’t make no sense to me. Thought they steered clear of this place?”

“Me too.” Jody pondered as she began removing all the sheets from the beds, resigned to just burn them rather than waste water and bleach.

She heard a tink as she was bundling up some of the sheets and looked down to find Rowenas’ athame still laying bloody on the floor.

“Guess it was a good thing she forgot this.” Jody mildly joked as she bent to pick it up, it was still sticky as she took hold of it, making her really wish she had remembered to put on a pair of gloves. Suddenly there was a crackling sound behind her and as she turned her head to look while still bent over to pick up the blade, Rowena materialized in the room in front of the strangers’ bed.

“Wha… OH bloody hell!” She spun around to find Donna holding a twitching arm and Jody bent at the waste picking up her athame, while Claire was watching shocked in the background. The room was still a sad sight with plenty of blood everywhere.

“What happened?!” Rowena screeched.

“Zombos invaded.” Claire pipped up.

“Wha… how?! When did…” She was reeling from the shock of the sight of the room and the teleportation. She grasped the footboard of the bed in front of her and took a few deep breaths.

“Where’s the girl?” She asked slowly enunciating every word clear as day so that no one misunderstood her.

Dean came lumbering back into the room with a fresh bag open and jumped a touch at the sight of Rowena.

“Rowena! Didn’t see your broomstick in the garage. Just get here?” Dean asked a bit angrily, though he hissed at himself for sounding like it.

“I did. What happened?” She asked coolly hoping to get a better answer from him.

“Can’t you tell?” He gestured with his bloodied machete at the entirety of the room.

“I can clearly see some of the undead somehow made their way in here, but how?” She was miffed by his answer but knew if she started into him, she wouldn’t hurt him as much as he was hurting himself at the moment. She could sense his anger within him boiling still, even after letting some of it out. She could tell, she gave quick glances to Jody and Donna who shook their heads slightly telling her not to pry too deep. Not now.

“I don’t know yet. Just want to clean this up for now. By the way your pet project woke up.” He mumbled over his shoulder as he knelt to pick up more parts from the floor.

“Really?! Well, where is she?” She looked around the room as if she thought she could be hiding in here somewhere.

“Alex is cleaning her up at the moment. They should be done soon.” Jody interjected relieving some of the pressure of questions from Dean.

“Wait…” She gave the room a good hard look this time, “Did, she… do this?” Rowena whispered.

“Yep.” Dean replied pithily.

Rowena chuckled for a second thinking this was a joke, but after looking around at everyones’ face and getting no reaction she slowed before realizing, “Oh Gods, you’re serious.”

“Yep.” Pipped up Claire, completely done with her area and moving on to the next body getting steadily closer to the center. Rowena cleared her throat.

“Where’s Sam? He called me earlier, but I lost my phone mid-teleportation.” Rowena lied.

“Kitchen.” Jody informed giving her a relieving smile now that Rowena finally read the room.

“Right, you all can leave the blood to me, I’ll get that up. Also, you won’t need to burn those sheets dear. Not much left I’m afraid.” Rowena smiled as she walked out of the room toward the kitchen.

“Well that’ll be nice.” Donna sighed in relief.

“You ain’t kidding. Did you notice the ceiling yet?” Claire chuckled.

Everyone but her looked slowly up at the completely blood-splattered ceiling with chunks still dangling.

“You gotta be kidding me?!” Jody sighed.

 Rowena gave the doorway of the kitchen a few knocks before announcing herself. “Sam? Dear? You in here?”

Sam shot up from being bent down behind the counter holding a large silver serving platter.

“Rowena! When did you get here?” Sam gasped in shock for a second before regaining his composure.

“Just a few moments ago.” She stepped into the kitchen and sat slowly on one of the chairs at the small table. “Saw Dean. How is he?”

Sam cleared his throat as he placed the platter next to a rather large pile of roughly made sandwiches and started stacking them.

“Not well I take it.” She answered for him.

Sam paused.

 “Were you able to find anything? Anything at all?” He pleaded. “Please tell me you have something.”

She sighed looking down at her intertwined fingers before bracing herself with a deep breath, “I searched through everything I had on contacting Angels. I assume the summoning spell I sent you didn’t work?” Sams’ silence was a yes to her.

“I’m sorry Sam, truly I am. I went through every Grimoire I have, even the Book of the Damned. I…” she braced herself. “Even tried a much stronger summoning spell.”

“The one that requires a portion of your soul!” Sam was appalled at the mere thought of that, it reminded him of Jack. He cursed under his breath at Rowena for even mentioning that spell making him dredge up not-so-fond memories. “I told you we’d find another way!” the words rising to an angry rumble as he came forward to confront her.

“I didn’t know what else to do! I’m as worried about them as much as you two!” Rowena shouted slamming an open palm on the table as she shot up to her feet to meet him. She reached out with both hands to ground Sam with her in this moment.

“We will get them back. I swear it.” She looked him in the eyes trying to get him to make eye contact. He was avoiding her gaze at first still harboring annoyance toward her stupid action.

“I know we will, but not like that. We’re better than that Rowena.” He shook her off him and swiftly returned to his sandwich stacking.

There were a few moments of tense silence as she slowly sat back down, still wringing her hands trying to rid her mind of all the nasty thoughts she was imagining. Sam took a deep breath and sighed letting the anger and stress of the day with that breath leave his body.

“So, what called you back? I thought you had a spell or something to tell you when that woman wakes up.” Sam inquired, trying to change the subject onto something less stressful.

“I do, did.” She paused, taking a moment to really think about it. “So why didn’t it?” she asked herself in a hushed whisper.

“Can’t hear you when you mumble Rowena.” Sam sighed in slight annoyance.

“Why didn’t it alert me when she awoke?” She pondered louder so he could hear.

“Well, what did you put the spell on?” Sam inquired, like a parent inquiring where their child had placed an item before losing it.

“I put it on my athame.” She replied with a frown deep in thought. “It has a spell on it that warns me when anyone touches it. That’s why I put it right next to her bed and told Alex to…” she trailed off for a moment.

“Sam? When I was in the Infirmary Dean, Donna, Jody, and Claire all said she was the one who made the mess in there. Is this correct?”

“Yea, we walked in to find her standing in the center all bloody holding… your…”

 Sam stopped stacking the sandwiches and took a few slow steps toward her table to better read her expression.

“Rowena, what exactly does your athame alert you for?” Sam asked as slow as molasses, mulling it over in his own mind.

 “It warns me when a human is about to use it.”

 There was such a silence that if someone even breathed it felt as if the air would explode. Sam sat in the chair opposite her staring her in her eyes.

“When you teleported here, who was holding your athame?”

 “Jody.”

 Sam placed a hand on his mouth. The shock of the situation was palpable, leaving them both lost in their own minds as to what this could possibly mean.

 “We can’t reveal this yet.” Sam finally muttered after a few tense moments.

“Can’t? Why? We don’t know who, or what that thing is! And you want to leave it alone for now?” she scream-whispered.

“Exactly why we can’t confront this ‘thing’ yet. We don’t know what it is? Could it be Chuck in disguise? We don’t know!” He leaned back in his chair running a stray hand through his hair as he continued. “We can’t cause a panic; it could endanger the girls.”

“Not to mention how Dean would take it.” Rowena muttered.

“Exactly. For now, we lay low and just keep an eye on her.” Sam folded his arms on his chest trying in vain to hide his discomfort. “If it isn’t one thing, it’s another.”

Rowena sighed while applying pressure on her temples while rotating in little circles with her fingers.

“Hey, I don’t love this either.” Sam chuckled.

 “Don’t love what?” pipped up Claire as she shot around the doorframe still covered in blood and grime.

“The… fact that… I’m out of mayo.” Stuttered Sam.

“Smooth.” Thought Rowena.

“Ew, you like mayo? Didn’t peg you for a miracle whip kind of guy.” She wistfully snatched a sandwich off the top of the pile.

“Eh, thought I’d give it a try.” He announced as he stood up to finish stacking the sandwiches and pull out a case of beer. “How’s the room? Done already?”

“Yep, Dean was a tornado. Your turn Row.” She gave a satisfied snicker as she bit into her slice, then gave her sandwich a look of disgust. “Eck what’d you put in these?”

“I only copied what you made the other day!” Sam replied appalled she was dissing his sandwich making skills.

“Dean’s right, you can’t even make a decent sandwich. I’ll help ya out this one time.” She started to grab a few of them before Sam caught her hands in midair.

“Not before you wash your hands first.”

Claire groaned but knew it was necessary. Sam gave Rowena a look that clearly said “Act natural” which she picked up on.

“Right, guess I’ll go do the finishing touches. Later dears.” She waved to Sam and Claire as she walked somewhat shakily back to the infirmary.

 In the shower room Alex was tossing the hospital gown that the stranger was wearing, all bloodied and grimy, into a nearby trash can. The sound of the shower running was somewhat soothing and the hot steam that was accumulating in the room made it a bit stuffy. She turned toward the showers glancing around a corner at the only occupied stall. She couldn’t see the stranger, but the feet on the floor with trickles of blood now and again made her relax. She was doing well, really well considering.

“How you doin?” Alex called anyway.

“Doing good, hey you got any conditioner? I grabbed the wrong one.” The stranger called.

“Oh shoot, yea I got some. Hold on I’ll grab it.” Alex called as she turned to the bench behind her littered with bathing items that she pulled out. She had let the stranger select the ones she preferred leaving the rest to sit until Alex was sure she didn’t need anything else. Good thing she hadn’t put them back. She grabbed a bottle with the same label she had seen the girl pick, but the conditioner version, and tensely walked over to the stall.

“Here ya go.” She said as she set it on the floor below the stall door.

“Thanks so much.”

“So, I never did get your name.”

“It’s Sterling. You?”

“Alex.”

“Well, thank you Alex. For everything. I’ll be done in a minute.” Sterling said while grabbing the bottle off the floor.

“Alright, I’ll be in the other room if you need me.” Alex said as she made her way back into the other room. She began putting all the products back into the large cabinet on the opposite wall. She never really asked why the boys had so many bathing products in here but didn’t think it was that big of a deal to ask. Especially with the way Sam and Dean were handling the loss of Castiel and Jack. As the pile of products became less than a few bottles of soap she heard light wet footsteps come up from behind her. She turned to find Sterling with a slightly damp towel wrapped around her, reading the back of one of the bottles.

“Feel better?” Alex asked while smiling, the woman looked so much better now although her face seemed a touch gaunt.

“Much. Thank you.” Sterling breathed as she looked up at the smiling Alex and set down the bottle back on the bench. “Look, Alex.” She grabbed her long red wet hair and pulled it over her shoulder to better control the weight of it. “I really wanna say thank you for all you’ve done for me the past few weeks. And um… I really appreciate you guys stopping for me back there.”

Alex shook her head at her, “Not at all. I’m just so glad to see you awake and walking around. We were honestly starting to get worried.”

“I bet.” Sterling chuckled. “What a frightening way to wake up huh?” she laughed.

“No kidding.” Alex laughed back. They laughed for a second before Alex started going through the available clothes that Jody and Donna had gotten for Sterling in the hopes she would wake up.

“So, what’s been going on since I was out?” Sterling asked already knowing the answers.

“Well, the day you went under… um. The sun came back.”

“WHAT?! No way!” Sterling faked shock really well, she’d gotten good at it in her formative years. “How?”

“Don’t know. Even Sam and Dean aren’t sure themselves.” Alex replied not realizing Sterling may not know who those two are.

“And they are?” Sterling leaded.

“Oh right! You haven’t met everyone. Well let’s get you dressed and fed, and I’ll introduce you to everyone.” Alex replied jovially while grabbing a shirt and pair of jeans she thought the woman would like. Sterling honestly couldn’t care much about the clothes, so she took what was handed to her and walked over to a changing stall to don her new outfit. “Much better than that gawdy gown at least.” She chuckled to herself. When she finished dressing, she stepped out of the stall, Alex gave a slight sigh of relief of seeing Sterling out of a gown and in something more familiar.

“Right. Well, let’s go meet these folks.” Sterling stated while holding her arm out allowing Alex to lead the way. Her wet hair leaving a large wet mark on her shirt, she subconsciously made the drying process move just a bit faster. Sterling already knew the layout, but she knew she had to act, for now. Her wet hair leaving a large wet mark on her shirt, she subconsciously made the drying process work just a bit faster.

As they made their way down the winding halls of the Bunker toward the war room, where Alex correctly assumed everyone would be eating and resting, there was some loud shouting going on and lots of yelling that she couldn’t quite make out.

“Sounds like a party.” Sterling chuckled, she already figured out the cause of the jovial sounds emanating from the room they were heading to but didn’t want to spoil the surprise.

Alex picked up the pace a bit rounding the corners faster and faster to get there quickly. As soon as she entered the war room she gasped in shock and ran to hug the two people who were a sight for sore eyes.

Jack and Castiel welcomed her with open arms and gave slight chuckles. They both looked drained and that they needed a few months of sleep, but happy to be back where they belong. She stepped back out of their embrace and held her ground in front of them for a moment.

“Don’t you boys scare us like that!” She shouted while joking, trying to hide the tears of relief that were threatening to form.

“We didn’t mean to.” Jack joked back.

Alex glanced at Dean who was sitting on the edge of the center table directly in front of Cas and Jack, he looked like a kid who got exactly what they wanted for Christmas. Sam was right next to him standing wearing a huge grin as well with his arms crossed on his chest. The girls were all huddled around Castiel and Jack giving them pats on the back and smiling, while welcoming them back from wherever.

“Just how long were we gone?” asked Castiel while figuring it must’ve been quite a while.

“Three damn long weeks.” Dean sighed.

“That long?” Jack asked while looking to Castiel for answers.

Castiel pinched the middle of his furrowing brow as he realized something. Everyone looked at him expectantly, realizing all eyes were on him he sighed.

“The Observatory alters time and space while we were in it as it was activated, we were there only for a few minutes, but on earth it was three weeks.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. What’s this Observatory?” Dean asked, slightly confused.

“It’s a device created by Chuck that allows angels to search the universe for him or anything else they need. Didn’t really help in finding him though. We used it to search for Amara.” Castiel finished.

“And?” Sam inquired further. “Did you?”

“Well…” Castiel started, trying to find the right words so that everyone would understand.

 Three weeks ago, in Heaven.

 As soon as Naomi got to three they both grabbed the two rods and began pouring little by little their grace. As Naomi predicted Jacks’ Nephilim grace was more powerful than any archangels’, even the little wisps he was giving was more than enough to start up the Observatory. As it hummed with power the white rounded walls in the room Castiel was in, started darkening. Soon they became inky black with white spots scattered all over. After blinking for a few seconds Jack realized they were looking at stars and constellations. Castiel stood in the center as if floating in space. His eyes were closed tightly as if he was focusing on something. Jack wanted to join him in the center to gaze at the stars that were twinkling all around him. He glanced over at Naomi whose face was tense with focus, most likely on the ebb and flow of her grace. But it didn’t seem to bother Jack hardly at all, and he was only releasing enough to heal a wound on a human. The Observatory’s hum started to weaken and the sight of Castiel floating in space was flickering on and off. Jack upon noticing this starting feeding more and more of his grace into the core. He decided to just focus on his grace output and let Castiel tell him how it looked later.

Castiel threw his consciousness into the Observatory as he did long ago once and used his remaining memory of Amara as a guide through the universe. It was a rough start at first, there was some light flickering at the beginning, but it seemed to sort itself out quick enough. He used every fiber of his being to sense Amaras’ presence, it first started on Earth, likely when she and Chuck finally made up. It then drifted far away from the Milky Way galaxy into the vastness of space, areas where no stars or planets even called home. The view was breathtaking, the sight evoked some past memories he thought he had forgotten. But there was a job to do, he couldn’t reminisce on something so trivial when Jack is being used as a literal battery. He followed her sense until he came upon an expansive vast universe that dwarfed all others, if you combined all the closest universes and galaxies to the Milky Way together, it would not even be a sixteenth of the one Castiel was trying to make sense of. He focused as hard as he could, floating at the edge of it, he didn’t want to get lost in all that was there, or he may never find himself. Once he was able to grasp which direction her path seemed to take, he followed as quick as he could, never pausing or stopping to take in the scenery. As he followed he realized it was getting closer and closer to a certain area he took note of that was devoid of much other than a massive black hole, but before he could confirm whether that was the direction it was going in or not he was jolted back to his body.

His eyes shot open and as he turned to look at Jack and Naomi his heart sank instantly. Jack, while still holding on to the core was shouting and screaming at Naomi who had collapsed on the ground on her side while still holding onto the core above her.

“LET GO! NAOMI LET GO OF IT!” Jack was panicking, he wasn’t sure if he should let go of his core. What would it do if he did? Will it hurt everyone? Will it kill everyone?

“JACK LET GO!” Castiel shouted as loud as he could. “IT’LL SHUT OFF AUTOMATICALLY!”

Jack jerked back in shock at Castiel suddenly shouting at him when he was silently standing there a moment ago. Without a second thought Jack released his grip on the core and immediately grabbed Naomi’s hand and removed it from her core. Her arm fell limply to the floor in front of her face. Once both cores were left alone Castiel was free to move as he pleased, and he very much pleased to run into the operational room and assist Jack in waking up Naomi.

“I don’t know what to do, she just…” Jack was crying, scared and felt like it was all his fault.

“It’s alright, she’s still alive. Just what did she do?” Castiel asked himself aloud as he looked at the controls on the wall to make sense of it all. He flicked back and forth from her wall to Jacks’ and gasped, then rolled his eyes. He knelt down in front of her to get close to her face, she was awake, kind of. He grabbed both shoulders and raised her up to rest her back on the wall, forcing her to sit up. Her head was lolling from one shoulder to the other as she was fighting unconsciousness. Castiel snapped his fingers in front of her face to try to wake her up a bit. It seemed to do something as she jerked a bit at the sudden noises and movement in front of her. After a few moments of her falling in and out she started coming around when Jack and Castiel sat on the floor in front of her.

“Wha…?” She swallowed, “What happened? Did you find her?” she asked groggily.

“Almost. And you almost died.” He scolded

“Don’t be dramatic Castiel. Everything went fine. Jack how are you?” Naomi asked slowly, still getting a feel for talking again. Her eyelids were quite heavy but she managed to get a good look at Jack who seemed gloomy.

“I’m fine. What happened to you?” he breathed trying to gather himself. “I thought you…”

“She stupidly set the Observatory to mainly pull her grace and only take from you what is absolutely necessary. What she can’t seem to remember is this thing doesn’t have an off switch and will continue to pull everything from you until you have nothing left.” He finished angrily.

“Worked though, didn’t it?” she halfheartedly chuckled. She was too tired for this kind of confrontation. She blinked slowly and opened to find Castiel laughing despite him truly not wanting to at the moment.

“Well, I was able to get a general location.” He chuckled. “In a universe I don’t remember being a part of.”

“Huh. Describe it, maybe it’ll jog something.” Naomi was curious now, a universe even he doesn’t remember. Intriguing, to say the least.

“It was massive, and I mean if you mashed all the universes around us and then some it wouldn’t even be a pinprick to what I saw.” His eyes went from wide with disbelief to curiosity.

Naomi thought about it for a second but could find no memory of a universe of that description. “Well, at least you have it in your minds’ eye.” She stated, seeming to give up on thinking about space for a while, her exhaustion being the main reason.

“I don’t know what that will solve but if I talk with Sam, Dean and Rowena we might be able to come up with something.” Castiel thought out loud.

“Sounds like a plan. Now, help me get up so I can find the nearest bed to pass out in.” Naomi ordered.

“Alright, will Heaven be alright with you like this?” Castiel asked with a face of concern as he hefted her to her feet, carrying her weight on his shoulders.

“It’s still here isn’t it?” She chuckled, it shocked her as well. Maybe it was due to their existence in Heaven. She couldn’t be bothered to think about it too much.

While Castiel and Jack carried her out of the Observatory toward the throne room again she searched inside herself and sighed with relief. She had quite a bit of grace left, enough to keep Heaven running, albeit with the lights still flickering and all. But it wouldn’t fall with her still here, not if she had anything to say about it. Castiel found a long sofa along the wall in the throne room that had Naomi’s name on it. After gently sitting her down on it she wasted no time and curled up on her side taking up the majority of the seating space. She looked up at Castiel with one eye as he looked on her with pity.

“Oh, get out of here. I’ll be fine. You have a mission now Castiel.” Naomi smiled sleepily as she closed her eye letting the spinning room cease to exist. She heard him chuckle and felt the warm pressure of a hand on her arm.

“I’ll be back soon.”

“Jusst be careffull.” She slurred as she felt sleepiness sink in deeper and deeper. She meant to tell him something about the Observatory, but it was lost in a sea of drowsiness. As the warmth of the hand left her, she still felt content with this, with everything so far.

I still have faith.

 Castiel turned to Jack who looked more relaxed now that no one was in the process of dying. Castiel pulled him into an embrace to help ease the tension a bit and to help Jack understand that he would be there for him. Jack was taken aback at first but leaned into it and gripped Castiel tight holding onto him for a few precious seconds, relishing in the warmth and comfort Castiel was providing. They broke the hug as both of them took a sigh of relief, things could have gone way worse and both of them knew it.

“Let’s get you home.” Castiel placed a hand on Jacks’ shoulder as Jack prepared to transfer them home.

“Do you think she’ll be okay?” Jack asked.

“She’ll be fine. She’s always been a tough one.” Castiel affirmed taking one last glance at her as Jack instantly brought them into the war room of the Bunker.

  Dean was staring intently at a certain spot on the floor while Castiel was recounting their adventures in Heaven and the information of the possible location of Amara. After he felt he had sufficiently bored a hole in the floor with his eyes he looked around the room at everyone taking it all in and thinking about what this might mean. Rowena particularly was fishing through one of her massive tomes already trying to possibly find a spell that could aid them in pinpointing her exact location. Dean glanced behind him to find the strange woman seated with her legs propped up on the table wolfing down a sandwich while seeming to enjoy the goings on in front of her. Her long red curly locks fully dried and cascaded around her face and over shoulder. He cursed himself under his breath, he had completely forgotten about her and what this kind of revelation could do to her.

“And who do we have the pleasure of sharing all this information with?” he asked, shaking everyone from the depths of thought to reality were the strange woman was most likely feeling alien here.

“Name’s Sterling. Quite a cast of characters you have here, Mr…” she said with a mouthful of sandwich.

“Winchester, but you can call me Dean.” He pointed to Sam, “This is my brother Sam. And the lovely ladies around us are Jody, Donna, Rowena who is the bookworm, Claire, and Alex who you already know. These two are Jack and Cas.” Dean pointed along with every name he said to their corresponding person as he named them off quickly but going slow enough for her to attempt to retain all the names being thrown at her.

“I’ve got no clue what is going on, but it seems the two of you are back from something quite daunting by the sounds of it.” She chuckled while taking another bite of her sandwich. “So, um…” she swallowed after chewing for a few seconds. “Dean? Was it?” she pointed at Dean.

“Yep.”

She lowered her feet off the table and sat up in her chair while finishing her square of a sandwich. “Cool, cool. Um… What is going on here exactly?”

Of Comets and Comfortable Silence

In which Clarke is stubborn and Lexa isn't always patient with her.

or au in which a comet causes the soulmate tattoo trope. Ever seen Night of the Comet? It’s like that but not as scary.

Also on ao3  https://archiveofourown.org/works/20253967/chapters/48004738

Chapter 1/5

When the comet passed, it was all over the news. They said it was going to be the closest comet to pass the earth in over a century and the media promised a light show of epic proportions. Immediately, social media started blowing up. “Influencers” started live-streaming about it. #Arkadiascomet was trending. There was a star Snapchat filter. Pinterest exploded with space themed party ideas, and, of course, scientists were thrilled with the possibilities this flying hunk of burning rock had in store.

Raven, in particular wouldn't shut up about it, “Just think! Imagine what we could do with material from an unidentified star cluster. Clarke! If I can get my hands on a piece, imagine the reactions I could get” reactions. Sure. Reactions. read BOOM.

From the other end, Octavia was never one to miss a party opportunity and had suckered Clarke into buying the necessary glow sticks and the unsurprisingly uncharged star decorations.

And of course, Octavia had to invite Lexa. Goody. To say Clarke and Lexa weren’t friends was putting it mildly. The teacher frankly made Clarke want to tear her hair out (or tear Lexa to shreds, either way.) And it wasn’t like Clarke could escape her either, not since college when they all met and formed their little motley crew. Lexa was Lincoln's sister. Lincoln was Octavia’s boyfriend. Octavia seemed incapable of doing anything without her boyfriend. Lincoln loved his sister. Clarke was in hell. End of story.

 Everything was an issue with them. Lexa always had criticism ready for anything Clarke said or did, and Clarke always had a barb aimed at Lexa’s entire existence

From where to eat. “Clarke there isn’t anything on this menu that won’t destroy your heart. We are not eating here.” “Well it's a good thing you don't have a heart to destroy then isn’t it, Lexa.”

The touchy subject of punctuality. “Have you ever been on time for anything in your life?” “Have you ever started a conversation like a normal human? Maybe a hi or even a good morning?” “It would still be morning if you had been on time.”

The touchier subject of Clarke's choice in partners. “He cheated on you! Why is he still coming to the star barbecue?” “Because he’s still Raven's best friend?” “...he hurt you.” “What, do you suddenly care Woods?”

Even board games weren’t safe “Clarke, you can’t steal from the bank” “Not with that attitude” “That’s it, I'm putting you in jail” “That’s not in the rules!” “Neither is a fucking bank heist?!”

Of course, that didn’t account for the weird silent protective streak they had going one. Lexa was always the first to defend Clarke from many unwanted advances from strange men with her sharp words and impressive vocabulary. All in the name of feminism. And as much as Clarke would never admit it, she had put other people in their place more than a few times for speaking too harshly about Lexa's whole ice queen thing. No one was allowed to make fun of her for that. Except Clarke.

They drove their friends up the wall from day one and it was still going strong. Usually Lincoln or Octavia would mediate, and the entire group had learned to separate them by at least two people at the table. Gradually, the other members of their group learned to work around the hurricane that was Clarke and Lexa’s weird harsh protective not-quite friendship.

So it was strange to say the least when Clarke ended up sitting next to her on Octavia’s couch, drinking beer, wearing a galaxy skater dress circa 2010, and watching Night of the Comet (Clarke thought it was appropriate, and Lexa loved the dark humor in it.) As they took in the horror film about people turning to dust when a mysterious comet passed overhead, everyone else was outside where the music and space themed decor was. Clarke just couldn't bring herself to get hyped about it. What was so special about a hunk of rock? Lexa would probably know. Lexa knew everything. But Lexa would also roll her eyes and mumble something about Clarke being an "artist living in her own little world", so Clarke refrained from asking

“Hey! You guys kill each other yet?” Bellamy asked, bouncing in and flopping down by Lexa taking in her dark grey jeans and black sweater. “Lex! You were supposed to dress like something space themed” He pointed to his Space jam tank top and grinned.

Lexa smirked back, took a sip of her beer, and said “The night sky is black, isn't it?”

He laughed good naturedly and said “At least Clarke’s got the idea. Although, I haven't seen that dress since your date with...” he trailed off suggestively and laughed harder when Clarke poked him in the ribs.

“Oh calm down, Clarke. Everyone knows about your disastrous first and last date with Murphy in high school.” Lexa said.

“Doesn't mean I want the whole world to know.” she hissed back "it’s embarrassing.”

“I'll say.” Lexa snickered.

“At least I never tried to convince myself I was straight by taking Bell to winter formal.”

Bellamy gasped as if affronted “Lexa, you used me!? I thought what we had was special!” he wiped away mock tears.

Lexa nodded solemnly and placed a hand on his arm “I’m sorry Bell, the results came back from the lab. Its true... I'm Lebanese”

“NO! Not my good American Lexa! A Lebanese” he picked her up from the couch and spun her around while she shrieked. Even Clarke had to smile at that.”Now come on. let's see if this comet burns us to dust, turns us into zombies, or gives Rae something new to blow up.”

Unsurprisingly, the comet passed and did none of those things The night wore on, everyone drank too much, and then regretted it the next morning. And that was the end of that.

________________________________________________________________

Except it wasn't.

It didn't start gaining media attention until about a week after the fact, but the rumors had started buzzing the next morning. One of those unexplained epidemics that was far scarier than a zombie apocalypse. It started with couples, old ones who had been together since forever, going into the police, claiming they woke with tattoos that they didn't remember getting. The authorities put it down to dementia. So did doctors. It wasn't until one doctor and his husband of twenty years woke up with matching vine tattoos on their torso and arm respectively, that any research was started. The first thing they realized was that the tattoos weren't ink. Somehow, the skin cells changed color The second thing they realized was that they were not dangerous, at least, not obviously. None of the cells were deteriorating, they were just different. The third thing they realized was that it had started after the comet passed, leaving everyone to wonder what the hell the comet was made of that could cause something like this.

By the end of the week, everyone knew someone who had one, and everyone wanted one. Octavia and Lincoln were the first Clarke had seen. They woke up the next day with white flowers blooming all over their chests.

At first, Clarke assumed it had to do with who you were near when the comet passed over, and at first the scientific community agreed with her, but then she (and they, eventually) realized that couldn't be it, because she and Raven had fallen asleep slumped on the table against each other and nothing happened to them.

It continued like that, and it wasn't stopping. Soon, people who brushed hands on the street, who kissed their significant other would pull away with hands or arms or legs covered in color. Even a certified asshole like Murphy came to Clarke’s apartment two days later freaking out because some girl named Emori left blue geometric shapes all over his shoulder when she handed him his coffee. It wasn't until doctors could pull enough testing groups together that they figured out the correlation (although social media put it together much more quickly): Soul mates or, less romantically, Individuals with optimum attraction levels and high compatibility scores. Not only that, but the affected’ body chemistry changed. Things science couldn't explain, like hormone levels bouncing off the charts, blood types full on changing, genetics mutating. What scientists couldn't tell was whether or not new humans, those who were not alive at the time of the comet, would experience these same reactions. Whether this new mutation could be passed down. No matter what the outcome was, it was happening and happening fast.

________________________________________________________________

And the internet exploded.

Sometimes, Clarke wished the comet had been good for making things go boom, because if Clarke had to see another vlog about someone finding their soulmate, or another stupid meme about which unattractive character people jokingly thought there soulmate might look like or another crying youtuber apology video about trying to fake one for attention, she was going to lose it.

Unfortunately, the hype didn't seem like it was going to die down anytime soon. Everyone wanted to capitalize on the new phenomenon. Restaurants had "soul specials" and tattoo artists offered fake soulmate marks (Clarke could respect the great marketing strategy, but really it was just artists charging double for matching tats). Books were being written, movies were in the works, the number of wedding skyrocketed. Clarke had never gotten so many photography appointments in her entire career, and the small commission site she ran for her paintings was flooded with requests for paintings of tattoos. She ignored those.

One thing no one anticipated was that the new tattoos legitimized homosexuality in the eyes of many previously prejudiced churches. After all, they couldn't say the tattoos were a gift from God and not acknowledge gay people had them too. So at least some good came out of it.

Of course, there was still that small faction of people who thought they were a curse but there will always be crazy people in the world.

Clarke belonged to larger (but still small) faction of people who doubted the tattoos meant anything more than what people wanted them to mean, thought it was absurd that such a big decision was based on a(n admittedly nuts) genetic mutation caused by a burning rock, and told Lexa as much about a month later sitting across from her at brunch with their friends at their usual table outside.

“I'm just saying, I think it's ridiculous that people are putting so much stock in something so arbitrary.”

“Clarke, tattoos appearing on people from skin to skin contact is not arbitrary. Its something that's never been seen before in the history of the human race. Why are you so bound and determined not to admit its importance?” Lexa said. Oooh her eye was doing that twitch that told Clarke she was at her limit… One more jab.

“Placebo effect” she said simply taking a sip of her mimosa

“Excuse me” narrowed eyes, even better

Clarke shrugged “People believe the tattoos mean something, and so they convince themselves they feel that way. No offense guys.” she said jerking her head at Octavia and Lincoln.

“None take” he said “we were together before all this” Octavia nodding along with too much bread in her mouth.

Lexa looked like she was about to scream “So you mean to tell me that you don't think there’s any significance in people's blood type changing, their genetics mutating? You think that's all what? Coincidental?! Unimportant?”

“Of course not”

“Thank God”

“It probably mean tons of new research material for genetic disorder specialists.”

Lexa’s face got so red and Clarke lived for moments like these “You- genetic- I- fucking-” Lexa spluttered before throwing her hands up “I don't even know why I try.”

“But God knows it’s so entertaining when you do. Look, just because couples feel closer doesn't mean they actually are.” she said adding insult to injury by toasting Lexa.

“Don't worry, Lex. Clarke’s just scared that she’ll get one and become her mom’s new lab rat” Raven said adjusting her large sunglasses and smirking.

“Her what?” Bellamy asked from where he was trying to beat his sister in amount of rolls consumed in an hour.

Clarke groaned “Ugh, don't remind me, shes obsessed.”

Raven said “Doctor Griffin has volunteered to head Arkadia Hospital's new soulmate tattoo research team”

“Which reminds me, she actually asked if you two could stop by the hospital so she can see the marks for herself and probably ask to run tests.” Clarke said reluctantly, turning to Lincoln and Octavia.

“Sure, why not? I’m free. How bout you babe?” Octavia asked him

“Yeah, might as well figure out whose blood type reigns supreme in this relationship.” He replied nudging her shoulder playfully.

She rolled her eyes “We’ll stop by this afternoon around two.”

Clarke nodded “I’ll text her.”

The group eventually finished up their brunch and left the restaurant, Octavia and Lincoln to the hospital, Raven to go make something explode, and Bellamy to watch her, leaving Clarke alone with her least favorite person.

For lack of anything else to do, they started the short walk back to the apartment complex they both lived in. ( to say they had been displeased to find out they were neighbors was an understatement,)

It was quiet which was fantastic. Only the sound of their swishing sundresses kept them company. It was funny, because when they weren’t arguing, Clarke actually found Lexa’s stoic presence rather grounding, safe. Maybe it was an association thing. During Octavia's parties, Clarke and Lexa usually found themselves drunk on the bathroom floor at 4 am (the registered safe time for spilling your guts both literally and figuratively) having one of their rare “deep chats” it was the only time their friends didn't have to pull them off each others throats, and Clarke would only admit this with a gun to her head, but that was always her favorite part of the party. Everyone had a drunk buddy. Lexa was hers. Clarke thought she had held Lexa’s hair back while she puked enough times to earn the title.

Lexa interrupted Clarke's thoughts and by saying quietly “I think they would have been soulmates.”

Clarke played dumb “who?”

“Your parents.” she answered “that's why you're so against the whole tattoo thing. You’re angry they’ll never know, but I believe they would have been.” Clarke's dad had died three years ago in an automobile accident. The other driver was drunk but he survived. Jake Griffin didn’t.

Clarke felt her throat tighten “You don't know what I feel”

Lexa raised a hand to Clarke's denim covered shoulder which was immediately shrugged off “Its ok to be angry about the missed moments, Clarke. Your feelings don’t make you weak”

“Yeah?” she spat “what do you know, Lexa? You push your feelings down so far no one knows you have them. It’s a good thing Costia left before this whole thing. You would have been the first soulmate ever to feel nothing for your partner.” it was a low blow but Clarke was touchy about her dad. She saw Lexa draw into herself and regretted every word. When Costia left it was messy, she had been an integral part of their group and Lexa’s girlfriend all through high school. A year into college she transferred to Azgeda U. She and Lexa tried to do long distance but it was hard and eventually Costia broke it off and never came back to Arkadia. When she had broken it off she had told Lexa that it was because she didn't feel like Lexa felt anything for her anymore. Lexa was crushed.

Green eyes hardened “Fine. Message received.” she said, storming past Clarke into the building.

“Lexa…” she tried but it fell flat as the door slammed leaving her on the sidewalk alone

Chapter 2 is up on AO3

Putting yourself out there

Living near Philly, I would tell close friends and family that the places in which I felt most comfortable were: my apartment, whatever gym I was currently using, my parents’s house/childhood home, and my brother/sister-in-law’s house.

Nowadays, being far from my family and most of my friends, it’s easy to be very solitary. My comfortable places out here are: my apartment, and my apartment’s gym. End of list. It makes sense, but it doesn’t leave too much potential for socializing, making new friends, or trying new experiences.

I had a small epiphany when I went to a “pizza party” that my apartment complex threw, with beer and board games and, obviously, pizza. 

I spoke to a couple of guys who, like me, generally kept to themselves. They had their own hobbies, which didn’t really jive with my own, so during my conversation with them I realized that it would probably be our last. But, I mentally acknowledged the similarity in our general ways of being, if not in our specific interests. 

Then I wondered: am I a shut-in? Am I losing social skills by atrophy?

Later on, over a game of Jenga with two girls, meaning to make a self-deprecating joke, I said, “I came here partially because I realized I’m not talking to anyone over the weekends! Sometimes Monday morning comes and I realize I didn’t say a word since Friday!”

Not that I was looking for a date, but the room dropped a couple of degrees after that. Later, as I walked back to my apartment in the button-up shirt that I’d chosen carefully for the evening, I started thinking that the encounter might have been one of those critical moments, the beginning of a slippery slope to becoming a total reclusive weirdo. (You’ll notice that lately I’ve been worried about getting stuck in the rut of certain character flaws as I get older).

But the mid/late 30s memes are true: I revel in the not-my-fault canceling of plans. “A night downtown” to me is broken up into the choice whether to use Uber to get there, and whether wherever I end up will be loud enough to merit wearing ear plugs (a real social magnet, those ear plugs are), and whether I have enough cash to avoid starting a bar tab, and deciding what time is the absolute latest I will tolerate being out (and usually exceeding that time by an hour at least), and determining how many drinks I am willing to drink if I’m not driving (1-2: no effect, slight headache next morning; 3-4: pleasantly buzzed tonight, but after peak buzz, the drunkenness “breaks” into an unpleasant what-is-it-all-for mood until I get home, and ibuprofen will definitely be needed the next morning; 5+: full-body hangover with about 8 hours of acute clinical depression upon waking).

I also know, though, that nights alone tend to not be worth remembering. I can have an enjoyable night by myself at home in front of my computer or sitting at my electric piano, but I can’t remember any of them more than three days later. On the other hand, I’ll never forget a random moment one night in 2012 when I watched a bartender break a sleeve of quarters on the corner of the bar and felt the vibration go through the wood and into my knee. Whatever the rule is that determines why I keep some memories and let others fade to nothing except a vague sense of recognition is beyond me.

What I think I mean with all this is that I still have a social impulse, but I’m starting to feel weighted down by my growing urge to sit still. At home, I don’t watch and re-watch TV shows, or play video games--I usually just screw around and let the non-political Youtube algorithm serve stuff up. As a result, I’m mildly revolted by my machine-learned Youtube homepage/echo chamber. 

A video that the algorithm decided I would like: STRANGER THINGS SEASON TWO WAS A POORLY WRITTEN MESS (49:53). 

I don’t know guys, I thought Stranger Things season 2 was fine. Lately if I start a video and there’s narration over muted clips of a TV show or movie, especially if the narrator is a man with an English accent, I just X the tab out.

Sometimes, in my florist-refrigerated, table-for-none apartment, I’ll think up some melody or story idea that I like and try to develop, but those nights are few and far between, and lately, the ideas have not developed into much.

A friend at work invited me to join a social/soccer club with him. I said “yes,” following my head rather than my heart, which was screaming “no.” I paid the $60 fee for a team shirt and a 7-game season.

Now, in my signup survey that served to distribute people onto teams, I put a check next to the option that read, “I’m here to have a good game and make new friends!” I think a lot of others chose the same option but I also think, in this case, that the devil is in the details.

In the language of that survey option, what, to you, constitutes a “good game”? To me, non-soccer player who trips over my own feet that I am, a good game involves plenty of running, nobody getting hurt, nobody shouting in anger, and high fives all around at the end. As a result, I did not thrive in the league, on my team, the Kickstars.

Since the games all had to be played after work, this being an adult league, they were played on one of two fields reserved from 6PM-11PM. Due to some a-hole in the schedule making department, five out of our seven games began at 9:30PM.

The soccer field had giant stadium-style lights, which at 9:30PM blaze down on everything so brightly that they wash everything out into a monochrome, cinematic mood, like sports movie shorthand for The Big Game, where it all. Comes down. To this. As a result, at the first match, those lights primed me to try hard and dig it out on every run, but remember that I trip over my own feet.

During the game, I sucked. There’s no other way to describe it. Pass the ball to me? It’s as good as stripped. Get open, while I have the ball? The ball’s going to go somewhere, but not toward you. Somebody’s driving toward the goal, and I’m the only one close enough to defend? 

The score is gonna be whatever-plus-1 to 0 in about three seconds.

But I did all this sucking while running like my life depended on it, and at 10:15PM, when the last whistle blew, I felt like I was going to pass out. My kicking leg cramped up as I was prying my shin guards off. As soon as I got home I showered the sweat and bug spray off, but my heart didn’t calm down enough to let me sleep until around 1AM. I woke up at 6 like usual and limped around at work the next day feeling generally like a human joke.

This brings me back to how the devil is in the details. To the others who joined the soccer/social club, I think that a “good game” meant, “To get another taste of the victory high I got when I played on the varsity team in high school/college.” 

Their yelled advice--”Pressure! PRESSURE!”, “TRAP IT!”--fell on ignorant ears; I had to sheepishly ask a girl or guy next to me when I subbed out, “Uh, excuse me...so, when Jeffrey was screaming at me to, uh, ‘clear, for the love of God, CLEAR!’...what did he mean by ‘clear’?”

They were all nice before the game. And they were charitable after the game. But during the games, they mustered a spirit of competition that I simply could not. They were skilled players of the sport, and I was not even a soccer enthusiast--”I came here to make friends!” I could imagine myself shouting indignantly, if it were a reality show. 

I still ran hard for the ball, still tried hard to block passes and shots on the goal, but I decided that I was never going to dive into what I knew would be a gallery of ankle sprains and jammed fingers.

I didn’t get hurt during the season, but several people did, enough to put them out for the next few games. At the end of the 7 weeks, I was given an option to renew for another 7-game season, a prospect I simply laughed at. I had gone to every game save one, when I flew home for a week, knowing that I shouldn’t quit because that would mean there would be one less person to sub out, which would make it harder for everyone else on the team. But with that one commitment satisfied, my soccer career was over. 

Final scores: Games lost: 6 (we won the last one). Lessons learned: 1. Friends made: 0.

Even at that first game, I saw the writing on the wall. This was not going to be the venue where I would make deep and lasting friendships. Aside from what I’ve already mentioned, nearly everyone else on the team was a spry 23-27 years old. They were all at different stages of life from me: when, at 10:20PM, someone suggested we all go congregate at a bar, I groaned under my breath and said aloud that I had to go home and sleep.

After the next game, I went to the bar. Only two others showed up, one of whom was my friend from work. 

I could almost hear: “Aaaand the waitress is practicing politics...”

There is a library near my apartment. Libraries are great: if you have a library card, you might not need to buy books from Amazon or Audible if you just use the Libby app. And libraries sometimes have classes, or workshops, for cool things. I suggest you look the closest one to you up, because you might be missing out on something neat.

I decided that I wanted to join a book club. 

So, I looked into it, and found out that the library near my apartment has a monthly book club. They meet on Thursdays at 10:30 AM, right around the time that I’m buzzing on my second cup of coffee and heading back into the lab. 

I decided that I wanted to start a book club.

Surprisingly, the library had to do an official background check before they’d let me start one. In all, it took 4 months before I could even have my first general-interest meeting. A nice older lady came--a former librarian who moved here from a nearby city--and she kindly gave me some advice on how to run a book club (this was my first experience with one).

The next month, I decided I would have the club discuss Jonathan Franzen’s The Corrections, because it’s my favorite book. I know that it’s not a perfect novel--in fact, it has plenty of flaws--but no book has made me feel as connected to it as this one did. Close second, Jerry Spinelli’s Space Station Seventh Grade.

The day rolled around and when I arrived, two septuagenarians were sat at the table in the meeting room, arms crossed. 

They had not finished the book, they said. They had read only the first 100 pages, they said. Those 100 pages were “bizarrely sexual,” one of them said. They “wanted to get a look at the person who’d had us read this book.”

But an hour’s an hour, a hundred pages is an honest try at a long book, and I knew The Corrections very well, so I was able to drag an entire hour of conversation about those 100 pages out of them. I truly did not mind their disliking what they read, as long as they would elaborate on why. 

It was frustrating at times (”Chip was obsessed with sex,” one of them said, which made me want to respond like an old-timey comedian: “Lady? If you think that’s obsessed...”), but overall, it was a good conversation. I still left the library feeling guilty that they had not been entertained by what they read, and pessimistic about either of them returning.

But this month’s book club came, and one of them returned! And a different other lady came! And they’d both read the whole book!

As I stalked through the aisles at the library just after the last meeting, embarrassed, I had been thinking, “All right, you want a short book? I’m going to have us read the shortest friggin book I can find,” which ended up being the 200-page On Chesil Beach, by Ian McEwan. I opened the cover and read, on the inner flap, the words “Newlywed virgins” and “sex-averse” and I figured, well, all right.

When I told the librarian to have the other library branches send their copies of On Chesil Beach for next month’s meeting, I thought that the book flap was advertising a story that would mostly feature two people in cable knit sweaters, standing on a jetty addressing the issue indirectly, like, “Darling, I feel a bit fretful when you rest your hand on the small of my back.” 

But I was so, so wrong. At least 66 of its 200 pages explicitly describe all of the details of the wedding night of the two main characters, with at least as many utterances of the word “penis” as in an article from a journal of urology. 

It was the opposite of an erotic story. It was graphic and clinical and, at times, difficult. But the story was good. The characters were well-drawn, and I cared about them a lot. It was a breath of fresh air after having read a lot of sci-fi on my own in the meantime, but I dreaded the next meeting--I figured I was going to be labeled the library’s resident pervert, the lord of the porn-watching bums in the computer section.

A wedding night of excruciatingly-detailed sexual misadventure is apparently not beyond the pale for the little old ladies in my book club. And this time, the hour went quickly. I used my old high school film appreciation teacher, Mr. Truitt, as a role model on how to keep the conversation going--he used to pepper in the usual literary theory type stuff along with other questions that took the story at face value, as if it had really happened, and wasn’t an intimidating puzzle of symbols and motifs and vocabulary. “Do you believe X when she says she loves Y?” “If you were there, would you have intervened when Z lunged for W?” “Is this a normal way two people in this kind of relationship treat each other?”

I left the library whistling, fortified by the approval of both ladies. I had brought cookies to the meeting, but there were a bunch left over, so I brought the rest into work on Monday and told everyone how it went.

Lighter Strokes

I haven't written in a while I know (🙈) but I promise I'll write more after next week! Anyway, this story was never gonna get published until @japril12 and @japrilgreys read it and liked it and thought I should publish it. 🙈 Thank you, you two 💛 If you've watched The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants 2, the inspiration will be obvious. If not, just watch Jesse's scenes in it on YouTube, you will not regret it 😏 xxx "You should take an elective." She turns to her roommate, who's sitting on her bed, legs drawn under her, flipping through an old edition of Vogue. She's a short, pixie haired girl, who may come across as tiny and non threatening, however was anything but. April didn't mind at all. Reed was lovely to her, and she warded off any unwanted male attention from April with one glance towards the frat boys. "I'm a med student, I don't need an elective. I already have enough and more work. You just want me to take an art class with you." April plops herself down next to her friend, and falls back on the bed, her feet dangling in front of her. "True," Reed nods, "But I also think you'll really enjoy it. It'll be different, refreshing." April sits up a little, leaning back on her forearms, "You just want to brownie points with Mr.Gavin." "Nadeen," Reed, corrects her, "We're on a first name basis." "He's your teacher!" April exclaims. "He's my very attractive, really sexy, painter teacher, yes," Reed sighs, a wistful look in her eyes, "Oh come on! This is college, not high school. I'm allowed." "It's still weird." April says, rolling her eyes. "Whatever," Reed replies, turning her body to face her friend, "If I bring you in, it'll make me look good. Like in recruiting people for his class." April groans at her plan, knowing full well that once Reed make s up her mind on something, she wasn't letting it go. "I'm not getting out of this one, am I? "Nope! I already signed you up." She smirks, and quickly jumps away from April's vicinity when the red head throws a magazine toward her. "Gotta go, bye, love you." Reed sprints out of the door, leaving behind a slightly frustrated April. Her classes have been tough, and she's always been a massive nerd, but even she's willing to admit medical school wasn't easy in the slightest. Top it all off, she already misses her best friend Amy, and even her ex boyfriend, Bright. They've begun to get on better terms since their break up, and she really wishes they were here. Maybe, this art class will be good for her. She's always loved to paint, and she'll probably drop it after about two classes. She only intends to stay long enough to appease Reed. She walks with Reed to class the next day, and she'd be lying if she said she wasn't a little excited. It would be a great break from all the endless array of strange information about the human body. She needs a break, and Reed was right, this just might be the perfect way. She walks into the classroom, white walls, covered here and there with paintings, and sketches. In the middle there was a small, round podium, surrounded by easels placed next to one another. She took a seat on one next to Reed's and places her bag on the floor. "Morning, class, settle down," Mr.Gavin begins, walking to the front of the class, motioning everyone to take their seats, "So, as I promised last week, we'll be starting figure art. This is a very difficult skill, and only a few of you will be able to perfect it. Nevertheless, I'd like to see you all try. Draw as much as you can of the nude model in today's class. Don't rush it. This will be your lesson for the rest of the month." April's eyes widen, and she takes a minute to understand if she's heard him clearly. She whips her neck in Reed's direction, and she sees her enraptured with their teacher. "Reed! Reed!" She hisses, and finally the her friend glances her way, a little pissed off from being distracted. "What?!" "What does he mean, nude drawings?!" "Oh, I think it slipped my mind. This month we're drawing naked portraits?" "Of who?!" April is more than a little furious that this, very intentionally, slipped her friend's mind. "I don't know, this model Nadeen is bringing in. He's a student from another faculty, I think. I mean, Nadeen should've just done the job himself, I certainly wouldn't be compla-" "REED!" She says, a little louder than she expects, which earns her a narrowed eyed look from her professor, who clearly wasn't a fan of being interrupted. "Shut up, I'm concentrating." Reed says, waving her off with her hands. "Reed, the model is going to be naked! I'm going to see a naked model! Reed.... Reed!" April looks around the room for a second, mildly contemplating whether or not to make a run for it. "Oh.... wait, is this the first guy you're going to-" "Yes!" "Oh," Reed actually manages to look genuinely abashed, "You're going to kill me aren't you?" "The moment this is over." Mr.Gavin clasp, getting their attention, and the bickering is put to an end, "So, I'm going to bring in our model. Jackson, come in." For a second April forgets that she's about to see this man stark naked. He is beautiful. That's the only word she can think of. Handsome doesn't do him justice. She didn't think people that looked like him were real. But there he was, in all his dark skinned, perfectly crafted cheekbone, mess of thick black curl, glory. It takes her a second to remind to herself to tear her eyes off of him, and blush deeply when she realsies he's seen her gawking. "I wish he was the first guy I saw naked." Reed whispers next to her, and she feels the compulsive need to smack her. He gets up in the podium, and April takes a second to wonder how he's so perfectly calm considering he's about to strip naked in front of a group of total strangers. Probably helps to look like that, she guesses. He steps up, and she realises how incredibly tall he is. She glances up, and notices how his eyes have focused on her, almost permanently. He's not breaking eye contact, and when her eyes focus on his, he lightly smirks at her. She coughs quietly, and quickly looks away, forcing her eyes on the blank canvas. The strategy lasts for a whole of 5 seconds, as she steals a quick glance, trying to be as discreet as possible towards him. He's removing his shirt, and she realizes that when she thought he was perfect before, he's even more perfect now. Her eyes dart over his long, chiseled torso. Her eyes roam down his body, and her eyes stop at the trail of thin hair leading down to..... Her eyes avert from his pants, that he's in the process of tugging down. She has nowhere to look, so she ends up glancing at his face once more, and sees him once more smirking at her. He looks cocky, but there's some teasing to his cockiness, as opposed to vanity. She has a feeling it's quite obvious that she's slightly overwhelmed by him. He takes his pants into his hands and tosses them gently away from the podium, and it lands on the floor. Around her she can hear the whole class come to life, pencils scratching lead against paper, rustling of sheets, while she stops and stares at the blank canvas, her pencil idling on the easel. "Oh my sweet-" Reed doesn't finish her sentence, but lets it hang in the air. April hasn't seen many naked men in her life, okay, so she hasn't any naked men in her life that weren't pictures or drawings for her coursework. Yet, she was pretty certain that Jackson was a little exceptional.... in more ways than one. It.... was perfect. It was also very hard not to stare fixatedly at.... it. It was quite... the proportion. Let's just say, it would take a a few more classes to draw.... fully, April thought. She gulps, nervously picking up the pencil, and then instantly drops it. She smiles apologetically at the class of frowning students who act as if she had made a massive commotion, and steadies her hand on the easel once more. She quietly clears her throat, and begins working, fervently focusing on the upper half of the body. Although, she'd be lying if she'd said that she didn't take the occasional glance down below. It was horrible of her, really. But more than the sexualisation of it, it was the utter curiosity. She was a 21 years old virgin, who lived in a house where the only reason sex came up was in a discussion about abstinence. She was curious, that's all. "Lighter strokes, Miss.Kepner. You're very tense. You need to relax you arm." Mr.Gavin says, suddenly appearing by her side. She smiles, and relaxes her grip, noticing how the paper is so indented that it's almost tearing at certain points. "Also, I want a full body sketch, Miss Kepner. Not just the torso." He tells her, and she blushes while she nods. She steals a quick look at Jackson, and notices that although he's not moved his head, there's a light grin playing on his face. He heard. After what seems like a lifetime, Mr.Gavin finally lets up the class. "Thank you, Jackson. Same time next week." Jackson nods, rezipping his pants, and he's back to staring at her once again. She looks down at her bag, intently concentrating on packing. She hears light chuckling near her, and when she finally manages to look up again, she's faced with his retreating figure. She quickly turns her body to face her friend, "Reed, I swear-" "Miss.Adamson, can I speak with you?" Mr.Gavin asks, the moment Reed opens her mouth to defend herself. "Oops, look at that, have to run. Bye!" She's practically hurtles towards Mr.Gavin. "Wha-" She throws the dirtiest look possible in Reed's direction, and walks out. She has a biochemistry class to get to, and she needs to concentrate on that now. Her experience in this class had been... interesting, to say the least. She walks into a crowded lecture hall, taking a seat somewhere in the middle rows. She takes out her books, and places them in the table, when she feels someone standing next to her. "Is this seat taken?" She takes a second to place the voice, she's heard only a few minutes ago, agreeing to return to Mr.Gavin's class next week. She takes a deep breath and turns around to face Jackson, standing infront of her, his bag slung lazily across his shoulder. He's smiling, but there's a glint in his eyes that reminds her that she's a little more acquainted with him than one would normally be with a stranger. "Um, sure. Sure you can." She finds her words, finally. He was a student, she remembered that. But she didn't really peg him for being in her class, doing her her degree. Exactly what she needed. "So, you know my name... among other things," He voice takes a playful tone, "But I don't know yours. I have a feeling you wouldn't want me to call you Miss.Kepner." She smiles, and faces him, and takes a moment to realize that up close, he's even more beautiful. "Um, Ap-April." "Okay, Ap-April. What exactly are you doing at an art elective?" "My roommate wanted to.... um.... she thought it would be nice to-" "She wanted to hit on Nadeen?" He laughs, and she looks at him a little shocked, before joining in, "How did you know?" "Because he's my friend and I know how he works," Jackson, rolls his eyes, "He's a good guy, but tell Reed not to get too involved." "I'll keep that in mind," She smiles at his thoughtfulness, "Is that why you... you, um-" "Stand in front a group of people completely naked for about an hour?" Her eyes widen at his forwardness, and she goes on to stutter out a response, but is slightly overwhelmed and she feels her cheeks burning up. She puts her hands on her face, willing herself to calm down. This was so embarrassing. "You are so cute." Jackson comments, and that does nothing to help her calm down. He called her cute. She never got called cute. Least of all by someone like him. "Um, I don't know how to respond to that." She admits. "You don't have to," He brings his thumb up to her face, and runs it across her still red cheek, "This is enough of a response." She wants to respond, but is cut off by their lecturer walking in. She spends the entire lesson trying her hardest to concentrate, but if she was being honest, that has become almost impossible. Him, sitting next to her, looking like that, being like that, charming, sweet and funny, she was a little distracted, to say the least. The class ends, and she gets up to walk off, wondering if she'd made this whole thing up in her head. "Um, Jackson, I was wondering if...." She turns to him, wanting to say something. She hadn't really made friends in college just yet, apart from Reed, and eventhough she would like more than anything for him to be more than her friend, she's trying to be realistic. "I'd like to take you out on a date? I'd love to." "Oh." "I mean, you've already seen me naked, you might as well buy me dinner." He tells her, walking away from her down the steps. She stands there, flashes of the morning coming back to her. "Okay." She says, running up to catch up with him. She tugs on her bag, and unconsciously pulls her skirt down. "Yeah?" He turns around, towers over her, and she feels things she hadn't felt before. "Mhmm." "Maybe that'll help you perfect the lighter strokes." He winks at her. She takes a minute to understand what he's insinuating. She gasps, and he laughs out loud, as she bursts into giggles herself. He's been teasing her a little bit too much the whole day, and they'd only just met. April figured she wouldn't mind giving him a taste of his own medicine. "Well, I look forward to it." She winks, and walks away from him, but not before she catches the slight shock on his face. Oh yes, her art elective was definitely interesting. xxx Thank you for reading!

Dark Souls 3 Areas

So after doing my first playthrough of Dark Souls III, and having recently beaten NG+, I wanted to talk about the areas of the game because Dark Souls III has some of my favorite level design ever in gaming. I just wanted to write out all my thoughts on each area, and rank them from my least favorite to most. 

This is just for my personal enjoyment, and it’s all just my opinion. Feel free to tack your own opinions onto it though!

18. Archdragon Peak

Fuck this area. I hate this area with a burning, fiery passion. I dreaded having to go through it again on NG+ and it was every bit as bad as I expected it to be. 

The only compliments I can give this area is that it houses one of if not the best boss in the game, and that it looks pretty the first time you see it. Once that initial impression fades though, the area is painfully boring to go through at best, and it hates you at worst. I died to gravity as much as I died to the Nameless King.

The enemies are assholes, most notably the stone roly-poly motherfuckers that seem to have made it their lifes mission to headbutt me off the map as much as fucking possible, and the snake-men can all go suck a bag of dicks. 

They stunlock you and then hop away, so if your dodges aren’t on point fighting just one can be a chore. But it’s never just one. Ever. There’s always two, or three, or four, and because of how the area is laid out you’re never going to be able to aggro just one. So they gangbang you.

And they parry you. And they spit fire at you. And don’t even get me started on the big motherfuckers with greataxes, or the completely FUCKASSES that have an axe+chain and happily one-shot me with impunity. 

I, hate this area. So much. It is one of the only two areas in the game that I just “nope”d through at full speed in NG+. 

17. Farron Keep

The second area that I just nope’d my way through in NG+, it saddens me that the area associated with one of the contenders for my favorite boss is one of my least favorite areas. And I think the cardinal sin of this area is that it’s boring as fuck. 

There are many inhospitable areas in Dark Souls, Blighttown being the most famous, but many of the areas that people hate for their hostility are ones I actually enjoy, a lot. And I’m not the only one! Plenty of people like areas like Blighttown and Sen’s Fortress despite their outright hostility towards the player, and I personally think it’s because those areas are interesting. 

Farron Keep is...in a word, boring. It’s very flat with lots of trees, it has poison sludge, some of it is deep sludge so you have to either roll or Quickstep through if you happen to have a dagger. The enemies are either boring (slugs) or infuriating (Elder/Mad Ghru), or just downright bullshit (those motherfucking goddamn curse frogs). 

It’s inhospitable, it’s boring, and there’s no reason to be there any longer than you have to. 

16. Smouldering Lake

The Lake isn’t so much a bad area as it is just unremarkable. It’s small, there’s a flat area, you get shot at by massive arrows, and there’s a worm thing. The only reason to go here is to fight Old Demon King, and he’s a pushover. Boring area. Moving on. 

15. Catacombs of Carthus

This area is one I’m torn on. On the one hand I really like the aesthetic and the lore. On the other hand, it’s painfully linear, has a lot of irritating traps, the enemies are mostly just skeletons, and it has those fucking wheels. Fuck the wheel skeletons. 

The boss fight isn’t that interesting either, High Lord Wolnir is a pretty big pushover if you know what you’re doing. 

This area could have been a lot better if it felt more like an actual catacomb, with more twisting winding paths, giving the player a maze with more than one way to get out. But instead it’s one of the most painfully linear parts of the game once you leave Firelink Shrine, and the enemy and boss design don’t do it any favors. 

14. Consumed King’s Garden

It’s a smaller Farron Keep except with toxic sludge instead of poison, Pus of Man and Lothric Knights instead of Ghru, and a mildly interesting boss fight. The area is slightly more visually interesting than Farron Keep, and you don’t have to spend as much time in it, which earns it some props.

And you’re also not obligated to move through the sludge 90% of the time, which I appreciate. But aside from that, the area is fairly unremarkable, only serving as a house for one of the more...interesting boss fights, if not one of the more challenging ones. 

13. Cemetery of Ash/Untended Graves

These areas are essentially the same, with Untended Graves just having higher skillcap enemies and the whole area is much darker, so I’m putting them in the same slot. 

Now, DS3 is my first proper Souls experience. I’ve watched Let’s Plays of DS1, I never cared for DS2 or Demon’s Souls, and while I would cry tears of joy if I got the opportunity to play Bloodborne, I don’t own a PS4 nor can I justify buying it for the sake of one game. 

So DS3 was my first proper introduction to Soulsborne, and I personally love the Cemetery as a tutorial area. It organically introduces the player to the base concepts of the game, even throwing a side path with an extremely difficult enemy (for new players anyway) to familiarize players with the concept of “I should come back here later”. 

In my first playthrough, I died to Iudex Gundyr the 3rd most out of any boss. Abyss Watchers takes top spot with ~20 deaths, and Dancer is the second spot with around ~17, but I died to Gundyr around 12 times before besting him. And it felt great. 

So, this area very much did it’s job in teaching me how to play Dark Souls, and I remember it fondly for that. 

12. Firelink Shrine

Firelink Shrine was, for me, surprisingly in-depth for what’s essentially a hub center. Walking through all the nooks and crannies in my first playthrough wondering what the hell they were for was interesting, and I loved finding NPCs and seeing them again in Firelink. 

It does a very good job of creating the feeling of safety for the player, which is almost the antithesis of what Dark Souls does normally. There’s a feeling of attachment to the Shrine, to the Firekeeper and the Maiden and Andre, and all the NPCs you meet there. 

It’s visually interesting as well, and there’s always a little sense of “going home” whenever I warp back to level up or buy stuff. 

11. Profaned Capital

My only complaint about this area is that it’s too fucking small. I love the visual aesthetic of the Capital, it feels almost alien and disconnected to the rest of the world. Your first glimpse of it gives you a crawl up your spine, you know something awful happened here and that feeling only increases when you enter the halls and see the hundreds of charred bodies littering the place. 

It’s hostile in a different sense from the rest of the game, the atmosphere of the Capital says that something went very, very wrong, and it’s only by reading item descriptions and piecing things together from context that you figure out what. 

I love the Profaned Capital, and if it was bigger with more to explore and a longer path to get to the boss fight, it would most definitely be in my top ten, maybe even top five. But alas, it’s very small and sadly linear, the path to the boss fight doesn’t give almost any branching options and it’s very easy to miss the entire other half of this area. And when the area is already small, that’s not really a good thing. 

10. Kiln of the First Flame

Odd that the first entry into my top ten is the smallest one in the game, and it feels slightly hypocritical to put it here after criticizing the Profaned Capital for it’s size, but the Kiln is special to me. This was where I conquered my first Dark Souls game, where I overcame a huge challenge. 

The area is aesthetically pleasing as well, very much giving off the sense that this is the end of the world. There isn’t anything past the Kiln, there is just the Kiln and then the emptiness beyond. Looking back you can see the twisted amalgamation of Lothric collapsing in on itself, giving the immediate sense that reality is collapsing in on itself as the First Flame fades. 

It’s a very fitting place for the end of the game, and the final boss, while maybe not the most difficult, is certainly one of the most interesting and most well-designed bosses I’ve seen in gaming. And even though I didn’t play the previous Souls games myself, I knew enough about them to recognize the weight of this fight, especially the second stage. 

And that’s why the Kiln is number 10 for me. 

9. The High Wall of Lothric

The Cemetery of Ash was a fantastic tutorial level, and after beating Gundyr I felt ready for the whole rest of the game. 

And then Lothric. 

The High Wall of Lothric is a very, very good test. It does away with the simple Undead of the cemetery and gives the player actual enemies to fight against, ones that pose a real threat to your life if you misstep. I didn’t die too much in this area, as I had seen a lot of the beginning of the game from a Let’s Play, but the sudden step up in challenge surprised me quite a bit. 

The area is also very nicely laid out, and it doesn’t feel very linear even though it very much is. The game as a whole is very linear compared to it’s predecessors, but in my first playthrough it did a good job at making it feel like it wasn’t. And that’s good enough for me, to be honest. 

Aesthetically pleasing area that holds two very different, but honestly very good boss fights, with suitably challenging enemies, and enough moments to let you know that this game isn’t going to go easy on you. I can’t tell you how many times I died to those god damn archers in the area above the Winged Knight. 

8. Anor Londo

Similarly to the Profaned Capital, I wish this area was bigger. Because as it stands, it’s just a small little nostalgia trip holding an RNG-heavy boss fight that’s underwhelming if you don’t care about the lore.

In fact, this entire area is extremely underwhelming if you don’t care about the lore.

Luckily, I care about the lore, so when I first walked onto that bridge and the words “Anor Londo” came up on my screen, I was grinning like a fool. This place holds a lot of lore heavy significance, especially if you’re interested in Aldrich’s storyline, which I am very much so. 

This area goes into my top ten for lore reasons, and nostalgia reasons. I just really, really wish it was bigger. 

7. Undead Settlement

This place is just cool. It’s really, really fucking big, and I actually missed two of the NPCs you can bring back to Firelink Shrine here. The enemies were never too difficult or rage-inducing, with the exception of the guys with the huge pots and the saws. Those guys are dicks. 

I like the aesthetic of the Undead Settlement, I like the level design, and my first time going through it sticks with me because it’s another area where you can get lost and miss a lot of stuff. 

Unfortunately it houses a pretty underwhelming boss in the Curse-Rotted Greatwood, which gets my vote for one of the most disgusting video game bosses ever. But aside from that little blot, I really like this area. 

6. Cathedral of the Deep

Another area I have a love-hate relationship with. The Cathedral has some very, VERY hostile parts to it that got very frustrating, and if I was ranking these based off of just my blind playthrough it would be much further down. But once I got here in NG+ and knew where all the bullshit was and how to deal with it, I found myself enjoying the area a lot more. 

Aside from the disappointing boss fight, I found the Cathedral to be a truly interesting area both lore-wise and design-wise. It’s intuitive with a lot of shortcuts and it feels like it winds in on itself a lot, it looks very cool and the atmosphere of the area feels very wrong and cursed.

Which is fitting, seeing as it was the home of Aldrich, one of the most unsettling Dark Souls characters ever, in my opinion. 

There are multiple little side paths to go find neat stuff, and although the boss fight is sadly disappointing at best and irritating at worst, I found myself having a lot of fun going through the Cathedral my second time round. 

5. Grand Archives

Oh boy. Top five. I love all these areas, so it’s actually a little difficult to really rank them, and this is where opinions come into play as well.

I should clarify that this is one of my favorite areas only after you’ve dealt with that fucking Crystal Sage. Because going through the Archives with magic being shot at you constantly is stressful, irritating, and not my idea of fun.

Once the Sage is dealt with though and you can actually pace yourself, the area is beautifully laid out with some really weird enemies, and hazards that are actually 100% avoidable if you take the proper measures to do so.

One theme that seems to be present across all of Dark Souls, III especially, is the feeling that the entire world is falling apart, being held together by bits of string and glue. The areas are all almost universally decrepit and unkept, the wildlands areas are all swampy and gross and the habitated areas are either ramshackle and falling apart like the Undead Settlement, gross and unwelcoming like the Irithyll Dungeon, or just abandoned and lost to time like Archdragon Peak.

The Archives is an excellent example of this, with the books disorganized and scattered everywhere, I’d say only 60% of the books are actually on the shelves, and the only inhabitants are the wax scholars and the thralls, with the occasional Lothric Knight to fuck you up.

It has an almost forlorn feeling about it, and it really does a good job at drawing me in.

4. Road of Sacrifices

I hate this area, and I love this area. 

This is, in my opinion, one of the only areas in the game that truly echoes Dark Souls in that it’s very much not intuitively laid out, it’s very easy to have to sit down and take a deep breath and say “fucking christ where the fuck am I supposed to go” as you hug the wall and try and find the goddamn exit to the area. I like that part. The second half of the area is a friendlier Farron Keep in a sense, it’s kinda flat with a lot of trees, but it’s not so inhospitable that it makes you want to pull your hair out. 

The part that frustrates me about this area is the enemies. The harpies that go apeshit and stunlock your ass if you let them transform, and the fucking undead with tree trunks, oh, and the Exile NPCs. Maybe it’s just me, but I’m so terrible at dealing with lance-wielding enemies, so the undead can give me a hard time if I’m not prepared. 

Also dogs. Fuck dogs. 

The Crucifixion Woods is an area I get lost in a lot, I even missed a pretty obvious bonfire because I kept getting turned around. I actually had to look up where the fucking shit I was supposed to find the Crystal Sage because I couldn’t find either doorway that led into that part of the area. 

But, I always have fun in this area, and as a Watchdog of Farron, I certainly see it often enough to have a solid opinion on it. 

3. Lothric Castle

I very much enjoy Lothric Castle for the sole reason that it’s one of the only areas that feels truly challenging without feeling like cheese. 90% of the times I died in Lothric Castle, and trust me I died a lot, it was because I fucked up. 

And it felt quite good to remedy that and start tackling the area properly, it was a challenge that relied on tougher enemies rather than cheese. Except for one section with two rather strong melee enemies and one archer where the archer is in a very inconvenient spot, and can just dick all over you while you’re dealing with the melee guys. 

But aside from that one area, Lothric Castle felt like a proper challenge, one that felt very satisfying to overcome. It’s also just very, very aesthetically pleasing. 

The lore of the Twin Princes and that boss fight itself are also incredible, and it’s probably one of my favorite boss fights ever in gaming, and definitely a contender for my favorite in the game. 

2. Irithyll Dungeon

Oh boy. If anyone’s gonna disagree with me, it’s definitely gonna be here before anywhere else. 

I love Irithyll Dungeon for one reason, and that reason is enough to outweigh the pure rage I feel towards the Jailers.

Irithyll Dungeon is creepy.

The atmosphere and aesthetic of the dungeon is creepy, in a similar sense to the Profaned Capital except with a dash of survival horror, oddly enough. I always feel unsettled when I go through Irithyll Dungeon for any reason, and the enemies just compound that feeling. Even more undead in cages, the baby-faced monstrosities that are so morbidly intriguing I almost don’t want to kill them just so I can get a proper look at them to try and figure out what the actual fuck.

And the Jailers. The source of so much ire and rage, I think they’re one of the most hate enemies in the series across the community. Now, I hate the Jailers as much as anyone else, but I also love them for their lore and aesthetic.

And I also love how they contribute to the atmosphere of the area. Like I said, Irithyll Dungeon is creepy, and it feels distinctly different from the rest of Dark Souls III. It almost feels like something out of Amnesia or Outlast, and the Jailers are a huge reason for that, because you don’t want to fight the Jailers ever unless you have the upper hand.

The Jailers are scary, and terrifying, because they don’t just damage you, they drain your maximum HP as well as increasing your equip load, causing you to fat roll and making you even more vulnerable to taking damage. By the time you get to Irithyll Dungeon you’ve most likely conquered Pontiff Sulyvahn and maybe even Aldrich, so you’re feeling strong and powerful with only one Lord of Cinder left on your plate.

Even if you decide to go through the Distant Manor and into the Dungeon before taking on Sulyvahn, it still means you’ve beaten the Abyss Watchers, you’ve beaten Wolnir and the Deacons, and you feel like a badass.

The Jailers take that feeling of power away from you in a way that can’t be avoided. Unlike other enemies you can’t learn attack patterns to perfectly time your dodges, you can’t cheese them and exploit them. The Jailers are always scary, and they can always make you feel vulnerable. You feel like a lot less of a badass with just 100 max HP that you can’t make go away except by just waiting for the effect to pass, and trust me, there is nothing in this game that can make me panic as much as suddenly starting to fat roll when I’m trying to get away from something.

Irithyll Dungeon as a whole makes the player feel vulnerable and reminds them that no matter how much of a badass they feel like they are, the game can still fuck them up if it chooses to.

1. Irithyll of the Boreal Valley

It was honestly a very, very difficult choice to pick Irithyll or it’s Dungeon as my favorite area in the game, because I honestly love both areas so much for very different reasons, but eventually the lore aspect of Irithyll won out over the Dungeon’s atmosphere and gameplay.

In an almost stark contrast to my earlier comment about how everything is falling apart in Dark Souls, Irithyll stands out as almost the last bastion against the end of the world. Sure, the inhabitants are all Pontiff’s lackeys and the area isn’t exactly vibrant and thriving with life, but it’s eerily lacking the filth and decrepitude that the rest of the areas have. 

I will never forget the first time I set eyes on Irithyll after walking out of the Catacombs of Carthus. I let out an actual, audible gasp and nearly dropped my controller, I just stood there for a good five minutes and just stared.

Irithyll is, in a word, beautiful. It’s almost otherworldly in it’s strange beauty, the way everything is dusted in snow and moonlight. The gothic inspiration to it’s architecture adds a lot to the feeling of Otherness, and you very much feel like an outcast, a stranger. 

The lore of Irithyll is also incredible, with Pontiff Sulyvahn the tyrant and how he essentially set the events that led to Aldrich’s storyline in motion. While my personal favorite Lord of Cinder is definitely the Abyss Watchers, I will say without a doubt that Aldrich has the more interesting story.

And Irithyll and Sulyvahn are the centerpiece of it all, the root of that lore. It also has vague tie-ins to the twin princes and even to Yhorm. 

The lore and the aesthetic of Irithyll alone would propel it into my top five, but when you add the fact that Pontiff Sulyvahn is a fantastic boss fight, if extremely rage-inducing before you figure out how to play around his sheer aggression, along with very well-done level design and some interesting enemies to fight, like the invisible ones where you can only see their eyes, this is definitely my favorite area in Dark Souls III. 

The Amazing Adventures of Hic v. The Roaches

So I’d been thinking of writing a blog post about my struggles with roaches, and then as I began writing discovered I couldn’t actually write about roaches without swearing at least every other sentence, and decided that maybe this wasn’t one for my official blog. But I still had lots of fun writing it (even if I didn’t have lots of fun living out this experience) so we’re gonna post it on tumblr instead.

Ok right folks, buckle in and prepare yourselves for the epic adventures of HICCUP AND THE COCKROACHES. This bedtime story is going to be mostly pretty gross and inconsistent and laden with expletives so LET’S DO THIS

So I know all you Texans and New Yorkers and People-Who-Live-In-Humid-Climate-ers are going “bro everyone gets cockroaches you just hate them and deal with it” and while I grew up in New York, I have spent a lot of my life in Utah, where it is too dry and too cold and too high for anything other than box elder bugs, so I am NOT ACCUSTOMED TO ROACHES. When I first came to Cameroon, I found roaches kind of interesting. Like, hey, check out this fucking huge beetle thing, that’s kind of nifty. And then I moved into my own home and watched them scatter every time I went to the latrine in the middle of the night, and I was like ok maybe these aren’t so great, I kind of don’t like roaches. And then they invaded my kitchen and living room at my first house and I was like ok so I kind of REALLY HATE ROACHES more than pretty much every living thing in my house, and I have seen some shit in this house so that is saying a lot. And then there was that time where I sprayed bug spray at a scorpion and roaches started DESCENDING FROM THE CEILING LIKE A BIBLICAL PLAGUE and as I stood in the middle of my kitchen clutching my can of illegal-in-the-States bug spray in one hand and a shoe in the other, jumping at every sound, I accepted that I am probably, definitely irrationally afraid of roaches. And before you say, “But Hic! You’ve had spiders and scorpions and snakes and lizards and acid spitting beetles and mice and every other manner of creepy crawly in your house, why the fuck are you afraid of roaches, that do literally nothing to harm you?” To which my response is, look I never said this was a RATIONAL fear man there is a reason I put the word IRRATIONALLY in front of the word afraid up there.

For all you Texans and New Yorkers and People-Who-Live-In-Humid-Climate-ers, I don’t actually have any idea how many roaches you might find in your apartments on any given day. Like, two? Is that high? Is it like five a week? 12 a week? I don’t know man I am completely guessing, somebody give me these statistics. ANYWAY I live in a house with a latrine. Do you know what you find in latrines, other than poop and spiderwebs? If you guessed roaches, you are COMPLETELY CORRECT. So my latrine is connected to my house, which means that my house is a horror show most of the time. As far as I can tell, they also live in my ceiling, and possibly in or near a wall in my kitchen so my house is like Roach City. This is NOT AN IDEAL SITUATION if you have an irrational roach phobia.

I went home to visit my family over the hols this year, and while I was home I paid a visit to this farm supply store, on the lookout for cat supplies for my obnoxiously fertile and flea-prone cat. While I was there, I came across an aisle of — you guessed it, you smarty you — farm grade pesticides. I never thought I could fall in love with what amounts to 32 ounces of chemicals in a bottle but here we are. So I snuck this stuff into the country wrapped in like 12 layers of plastic bags and made it all the way to my house with no incident. In case I was having second thoughts, I was greeted at my home by a LITERAL BUCKET FULL OF ROACHES in my latrine — like, awesome, it’s a good thing I don’t have to pee right now because I am NEVER ENTERING THIS LATRINE AGAIN. That was a lie, actually, I did have to pee but fuck it if I was going to enter that latrine in the dark so I held it til the next morning and had one of the most terrifying pees of my entire life. But it hardened my resolve and so that morning, Operation: EXTERMINATE began.

11: 57am. Operation: EXTERMINATE begins with me mixing up POISONOUS TOXINS next to the horror bucket in the latrine. It’s like one of those scenes in the movies where the people are trying to steal shit or whatever without waking up the dragon. The dragon, in this case, is a bucket of roaches.

Of course as I’m mixing this shit up a kitten just HAPPENS TO WANDER IN. Like fuck kitten you have no sense of self-preservation THIS SHIT COULD KILL YOU

Anyways I realise that I should actually clean out the latrine before I go spraying this magical death sauce on top of three inches of dust but in order to do that I have to ELIMINATE THE HORROR BUCKET. So I go into bugspray the shit out of it only to find that my first canister of moon tiger (this bug spray that definitely does not meet FDA approval and will probably give me 12 kinds of cancer) is basically empty, so now not only are they not dead but all MAD AS HELL (and by mad I mean that probably they’re just really panicked but EITHER WAY they’re trying to escape this bucket). I locked the door behind me so I could go get my other almost-empty canister and then returned to the roaches just milling about the bucket so I SPRAY THE SHIT OUT OF THEM and now I’m letting them stew in bug spray for a while and hoping they’ll die or eat each other sometime in the next ten minutes.

12:39pm. I HAVE SPRAYED THE DEATHSAUCE. I poked a hole in the lid of a Top bottle which sounds like an adequate substitute for a professional sprayer if you ask me. So I squirted this stuff around the walls and the floor of my latrine because there is a LOT OF IT and I just realised that that’s probably because it’s meant for a much larger house and not necessarily because you’re supposed to lay it on really thick but uh I guess my latrine really will be a death trap. I couldn’t get it very high on the walls because 1. I am very short 2. holes in the lids of water bottles aren’t actually QUITE as easy to aim as one of those fancy pesticide sprayers and 3. as much as I want to get rid of roaches I don’t really want a face full of pesticide. Like I’ve accepted that it’ll get on my hands and feet because HOW COULD IT NOT but face? eehhh…

Anyway now we wait to see what happens I guess? I’m gonna spray my kitchen later tonight when the kittens are nice and locked outside. I’m a little hesitant to do my room, because I don’t really want roaches falling and dying on my mosquito net? I might hit under the beds and stuff and just skip the walls.

So basically all that’s left to do is watch them DIE TERRIBLE DEATHS.

I don’t know if they’re actually terrible deaths, they might just die normal deaths.

But die nonetheless.

And also hope that my cats don’t die too.

1:30pm. Like, I rinsed my foot off but it’s still kind of itch and tingly, that’s fine right? It’s either pesticide or residual itchiness from my cat attacking it, unclear.

But if I have to sacrifice my foot for the greater goal of getting rid of roaches, then it’s a sacrifice I’m willing to make.

2:48pm. Operation: EXTERMINATE update: So when I bought this stuff I specifically asked if it was a repellent, aka if I spray this shit on my walls with I have an army of roaches exploding from the walls seeking vengeance like the last two times I sprayed my walls/latrine, and he was like nope definitely not! Which means that there are three possible explanations for the 10+ roaches I’ve seen in the past hour: 1., he was lying out of his ass to get me to buy this stuff; 2., he has a very small roach population so whenever he uses it they al come out but he doesn’t notice it, and therefore doesn’t know any better; or 3., my roaches have decided that being nocturnal really just isn’t for them and they’d rather just chill with me in the daytime.

Basically what I’m saying is that I just sprayed my bedroom because fuck it if I’m going to risk bringing them all out at night, and that this shit had better kill them really fucking fast or I’m going to be partying it up with a shit ton of roaches tonight because the universe apparently hates me.

8:59am. Well, after an only MILDLY HORRIFYING night, I found a total of 32 dead roaches littered throughout my house. Good job, pesticide! 32 down, probably 999,468 to go!

Update: Well, three weeks later, I’ve completely forgotten that I wrote this, BUT I’ve probably swept about 100 roaches out of my house and only two roaches have climbed up my mosquito net in the past two weeks, so we’re calling Operation: EXTERMINATE a success! Go team!