#I want to make it so clear that martha is acting completely normal here

[neat-crows]

So I've been re-watching dr who for the first time ever rn, with a friend who's never seen it before, so I'm seeing all these episodes for the first time since I was 13 and picking up on a LOT that I never noticed before, and holy shit the tenth doctor is SO WEIRD to Martha Jones, and nothing exemplifies that more than the sontaran stratagem/the poison sky.... like..... he is SO weird the whole way down.

When they first see each other again their introduction directly mirrors Jack and The Doctor's in Utopia

"Doctor" "martha Jones" laugh and hug

"doctor" "captain Jack" laugh and hug

And then! they have a normal interaction!!! WIN he asks how her family is and how she is, and they're smiling and genuinely seem like friends very happy to see each other!

And then.... donna drops the fiance bomb.

He turns with a look of.... almost anger? disbelief? and asks WHAT MAN?? Then martha explains who he is and the doctor....

he looks? upset? and then like, resigned? AND THEN martha admits that her fiance is kind of similar to the doctor, and then donna asks "Is he skinny?" and his reactions

is to make a face like "yeahh" AND START NODDING????? like he's taken Martha's admission to mean she's with a man that's just like him, and honestly seems a bit smug over it, and then when Martha says no-

he looks so taken off guard and betrayed ??????????? BRO we are less than 5 minutes in..............

He then proceeds to be tetchy with her, and to be fair this is mostly because of her involvement with unit, and his discomfort with how militaristic she's gotten - which I think comes both from anger at himself for how he's changed her, and also discomfort that she's no longer "his" Martha, she's changed, and he doesn't know her as well anymore.

he tells her off, he's snide and judgmental, he won't even look at her until she tells him to, and he's honestly bitchy - Until she explains herself, and tells him off for being so judgmental, i also think his line "oh so it's my fault" is very telling because..... it literally is? like yes, you put her in situations where she had to become harder and more used to violence......... and he KNOWS it. He's doing what he did all through series 3, which is feel guilty or bad and then take it out on Martha (that's for another post though) until she stands up for herself (get his ass!!) and then when she's finished she looks at him

determined, but eyes darting back and forth waiting for his reaction, on some small level hoping for his approval

and only THEN does he start to smile, and he tells her "that sounds more like Martha Jones." she's back to feeling like she's still his (to him, Martha is acting incredibly normal and platonic). The doctor has always had a weird possessiveness with Martha, going all the way back to their first episode where he hand picked her, and in this second of her looking for his approval, he feels that again, and he IMMEDIATELY started flirting again - please go watch the scene it boggles my mind how fast he switches.

I also want to be clear, Martha isn't flirting back, she's acting extremely normally. She's clearly taken the time away from him to get over, not only romantic feelings, but any anger as well. She seems to have come to terms with how she feels with everything that happened, and she loves and cares about him, but she's not naive to his faults - I also don't think she even picks up on him being weird to her in this scene. She's no longer in tune with his every mood swing, she's not here to fix him, or cater to his needs, and so she no longer notices these small moments from him.

AND THEN.... the clone.

He never flirts with the clone. The ONLY time, is the very first time they interact, before he's realized something is wrong.

he calls her over to come with him, and his face is honestly way too close to hers. bro is a menace. but then, maybe 2 minutes later, he immediately clocks that this is not Martha.

he realizes there has to be a spy and only has to consider for half a second before he turns and asks about her family, he's already realized she's acting a little off, and the second she answers he's 100% certain.

and he gets MAD. he tells her Donna went home because she's not like her, she's not "a soldier" clearly a shot at the sontarans, but also another subtle test, the real Martha wouldn't let that slide, and he wouldn't say that to the real Martha. He continues saying Avanti, instead of Allonse-y, which is interesting, because he already knows. He's not doing this to confirm his suspicions, he's doing this as retaliation. To confirm to himself he knows Martha better than this fake, he's toying with her. BUT. He doesn't go to save Martha.

The next episode, the doctor's daughter, he refuses to accept the label of soldier, but Jenny rightfully points out that he strategizes like one And this is one such moment. He knows Martha is a clone, he's mad and upset, he could go save her right away, but he doesn't. He doesn't because it serves him best to allow her to keep shutting down the nuclear launch.

It reminds me a lot of when Cassandra possessed Rose in New Earth, he played a long for a little bit, but that was just to figure out what was happening. He IMMEDIATELY tried to fix it, I just wonder if it was any other companion if he would have done this. If it was Donna would he have left her for so long? even if it was strategic? it's this weird conflict the doctor has now that he's very very protective and a bit possessive, but he also treats her like an equal on the battlefield, and it's a weird... trust? he has in her to take care of herself.

I kind of don't want to call it trust because that sounds too positive, but I don't know another way to phrase it, but it's a forced independence and self sufficiency.

but then, he finally goes to save her

He goes and cradles her face gently, and NOTABLY says "good, still alive" MEANING HE DIDN'T KNOW??? and still left her for that long...

but he holds her gently, and fully ignores the clone. He has his back to her, and then proceeds to taunt her. He tells her he clocked her right away because of the pupil size, thin hair, and he says she smells. but we know this isn't true.

Sure maybe those physical traits are true, but that's not how he figured it out, we saw how he did it, he clocked on because he knows Martha so well, but he can't admit that. He can't admit that he knows her just as much as she knows him, just like he couldn't tell Rose he loved her.

He is so deeply angry at this clone, he makes fun of her, he yells at her, he looks at her likes she's nothing

This is his face when he kills her. He doesn't talk to her, or even TRY to save her. And we know she is alive, she has memories, and her own thoughts and feelings, and the doctor kills her while gloating because of his immense anger for hurting Martha. An anger that is also guilt.

he does not speak to her like a person (which directly leads into his treatment of Jenny in the next ep).

Parallel that to how Martha treats her, they talk about their family and she even calls the clone Martha. She really is a doctor in a way ten tried and often failed at.

And then at the end, Donna asks Martha to come with them, and she says no, and that she's happy at home, but she's better for having traveled and come back.

And the doctor looks at her

With an obvious sadness, but also acceptance. He clearly wants her here, with him, but I think he's finally come to accept that that'll never happen, and he needs to let her go.

Edit: I Like their dynamic(mostly) This is not an anti tenmartha post Him being a freak is compelling

#dr who #doctor who #david tennat #tenth doctor #Martha Jones #10th doctor #the sontaran stratagem #the poison sky #the doctor's daughter #sontarans #unit #donna noble #tenmartha #kind of #long post #it kind of got out of control #didn't realize I had so much to say #sorry #I may have lost my point also but like #I want to make it so clear that martha is acting completely normal here

[kerie-prince]

We're Worlds Apart (5)

Draco Malfoy x American No-Maj!reader

series m.list | general m.list | previous chp

warnings: cursing, mom being a dick :/, accidental peeping eyes, jealous draco

summary: Draco Malfoy is a pureblood wizard. Magic runs through his veins and has been since his birth. You're a Wiccan No-Maj; a non-magical being with ordinary blood through your veins, but practices what you call magick. And this very practice upsets your neighbor.

a/n: omg, i had to rewrite this WHOLE THING again. but now i know to write things in my google docs first

(gif cred)

Everyone at the table was silent. Your mother sat processing what had just occurred moments ago. I practice, too. You always wondered why your brother never talked too much about her whenever you were on long phone calls with him. He was pretty vague about Stephanie, and now you knew why.

Actually, it made complete sense as to why he didn't tell your mom about Stephanie being a practicing witch, but you? That was what really confused you.

“So,” you decided to break the silence, “how long have you practiced?”

Stephanie had an excited glimmer in her eyes when you asked. “I'm still a baby, I started earlier this year.” Something about her aura was soothing and pure. You scooted your chair closer to her and continued your conversation. “So you’re a Wiccan? Or do you practice something else?”

“I practice Gardnerian Wicca,” she declared. From the corner of your eyes, you could see your mother holding back a scoff. Surely she was thinking Why the hell is she encouraging this?

The ding of the oven sounded like church bells to her as it gave her an excuse to leave the room and focus on anything else. The situation was quite hysterical. But questions were in order. As Stephanie left to use your bathroom, you pulled your brother aside. “Dude, why the hell didn’t you tell me anything?”

He flinched away from your hand and started massaging the pain away from your grip, “I didn’t think it was my business to tell.”

“But you told her about me?” You asked with crossed arms. Your brother’s logic was lacking. “It… might’ve slipped, but I only told her after she told me that she’s a witch. I don’t go around campus saying ‘Hey, I’m Y/B/N Y/L/N. I’m a communications major and y’know what? My sister’s a witch.’” You weren’t upset that he told his girlfriend about you. You weren’t ashamed at all. And you weren’t really upset that he didn’t talk to you about her. Because, in a sense, he’s right.

But you like being dramatic, so you figured that while you've got your brother in your house you’d act like a petty sister. “Whatever, man. But you could’ve told Mom beforehand,” you scolded with your arms crossed. He had a scoff in his laugh, “Tell Mom? We’re thinking of the same person, right? You know she would freak.”

“She’s freaking out right now! I’d have rather her freak out earlier before she made my house look like some stupid picture in a Martha Stewart kitchen advertisement,” you whisper yelled. To think that your house could have looked as it normally did annoyed you. Grandma’s tapestry you whined internally.

Stephanie found you two in your hallway and froze in an awkward stance, “Is everything okay?” You and your brother put on your best smiles. “Yeah, just wanted to see how my baby bro is doing,” you reached up to pinch his cheeks to which he swatted you hand away. It started a playful fight that made your guest laugh in amusement. The sound of your mother announcing that dinner was ready brought the little fight to a halt. “I’ll beat your ass later,” you challenged him, fingers doing an ‘I’ve got my eyes on you’ movement.

—

He couldn't believe it.

Theodore Nott and Blaise Zabini stood at his doorstep with their bags. Theo had his wand pointed out with confetti spurting out the tip. “Surprise!” he yelled.

Draco pulled them in quickly and nearly sprained his neck as he looked around to make sure no one saw his friend. “What part of 'muggle neighbors’ did you not understand” he scolded.

“Oh shit, sorry mate. I forgot.” Theo scratched the back of his head. He then glared at Blaise knowing that with his brilliant memory, he let Theo make a big mess of things. Theoretically and literally. An enchanted broom swept up the confetti on the floor.

“What are you guys doing here, I wasn’t expecting you two for another week?” Draco asked as he pulled each wizard in for a welcoming hug.

“Merlin, mate. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say that you’re disappointed to see us,” Blaise teased.

“That's not what I meant and you know that. I’m happy… just surprised.” The blond wasn't isn't used to showing this kind of side to himself. “What brings you two here early?”

“Have you ever known Theo to be patient for anything? Bloody git nearly dragged me out in the middle of work,” Blaise expressed. The Slytherin trio laughed as the two friends followed Draco through his new home. “Well, here’s the guest room. Set your things down and I’ll grab some drinks.”

For the first time since getting his phone and learning about take-out, Draco had ordered a couple pizzas to be delivered. Blaise and Theo were genuinely impressed by the whole thing. “Muggles sure do think of everything,” Theo observed.

“Almost shocked that Malfoy here adapted pretty well to them,” Blaise had a smirk on his lips before stuffing his mouth with his first ever slice. “Salazar, this is amazing.” Draco raised his eyebrows in agreement. The three men sat in the living room eating and caught up with each other.

The night was filled with laughter and tipsy hiccups. It was arguably Draco’s best night since he first moved to America. He hadn’t realized how much he missed their shenanigans since Hogwarts before it all went to shit thanks to a certain Dark Lord. He was ecstatic and couldn’t wait for them to meet his new friends.

In the middle of their laughter, Theo was seen squinting his eyes in a direction, “Oi mate, who’s that?” The two others followed his eyes which looked out a window. Sort of blurry due to the alcohol, Draco leaned forward to focus on what it was Theo was talking about.

When his vision cleared, he saw some heads moving around. And… arms flinging about? The sight was strange to say the least. Draco didn't exactly know what was going on, he watched as you stood in your living room in front of who he recognized as your mother. Sitting on your couch was some woman, and in between you and your mother was some guy.

“Is that the muggle neighbor you told me about?” Blaise observed.

“Yeah, and her mum. Don’t know the others, though.” Draco stated. He shrugged his shoulders and sat in a comfortable position. Blaise continued to look at the weird scene next door. The only pieces he could put together was that you definitely weren’t happy and neither was your mother. “She’s kinda fit, don’t you think?”

“No,” Draco didn’t hesitate to answer. His irritated voice was indication enough to not press on the matter more. And seeing as it was their first night in America, Blaise didn’t want to risk getting hexed before bed.

Draco looked at the clock on the wall which read 10:57 pm. “Shit,” he whispered. “I’m turning in. I have a meeting in the morning.” Theo was already passed out on the soft couch and Blaise walked himself to the guest room to claim the bigger bed. Once in his room, Draco chugged a bottle of water that was on his nightstand and went to sleep.

—

She finally went home. After the huge fight that broke out after dinner, your mother grabbed her things and left. Poor Stephanie had witnessed the mess and regretted coming. As much as she was glad to finally meet a fellow practicing witch, she underestimated your mother entirely.

It actually surprised you that your mother acted in such ways. Growing up, your mom never really made too much of a fuss of your Craft. But just out of nowhere, she’s making comments of this and making complaints of that. You wanted to forget Thanksgiving night all together.

Currently, you were pacing in your kitchen debating on whether or not to call Stephanie and make sure she was alright. She was nothing but sweet and kind. Didn't deserve to come home with your brother and have some woman blow up. Your mother hit some random nerve in the middle of your conversation that you carried on about what Steph’s practice consisted of and yelled about her whole family getting full of ‘damn weirdos’.

The best thing to come out of it was that you were able to bring back all your original decorations and stored all the stuff your mother bought in the garage.

Thinking about it started to give you a migraine. You walked to your bathroom and started to fill the tub with the hottest water you could take. As it filled, you went to the comfort of your room and undressed. You opted out on bath salts and oils; just the warmth of the water would be enough to settle your nerves.

Before you could remove your bra, you felt a weird shiver up your spine. Something in the air made you feel tense. You wanted to assume that it was negative energy that your mother left behind, but it felt different than that. No, you felt a presence in your home. Or worse, from somewhere else.

You turned around and widened your eyes in horror. A man that you didn’t know nor have ever seen before looks at you from the window of your neighbor, Draco’s room. As soon as it processed to him that you were looking back, he quickly shut the curtains again. At that moment, you wanted to crawl into a hole and never come out. You were so caught up in your thoughts that you forgot to shut your blinds.

You sat in your bathtub still shocked that a complete stranger almost saw you naked. Had you even gone further a couple seconds or ignored your instincts, he could have seen everything. You dunk your head into the water and scream under it. This day can’t get worse you thought.

But oh, how it can. You performed your house cleansing spell and as soon as you set the censor dish down, the doorbell rang. You opened the door and was face to face with the same man who saw you. “Hello,’ he said. You recognized the accent, how it sounded like Draco’s.

Shyly, you nodded your head and said a soft ‘hi’.

“Listen, I just wanted to say that I am so sorry for… for what happened,” presumably Draco’s friend apologized.You stood there a bit shocked and flustered. “I swear I’m not a bloody pervert. Mate doesn't have any light in his room so I’d thought I’d do him a favor. Guess that didn't turn out so well,” he sheepishly chuckled. It made you laugh as well. It was decided that it was just an honest mistake.

“It’s okay. I should’ve closed my curtains so I guess it goes both ways,” a blush was spread across your cheeks. The more you looked at him, the more you studied his gorgeous features. “I’m Y/N. You must be Draco’s friend,” you extended your hand out for him to shake. He took it in his and you nearly melted into his smooth skin.

“Yes, I am. I’m Blaise.”

—

Draco returned home with a pounding headache and stiff neck. He had never felt more tired than he did in this moment. He saw Theo sitting on his couch reading the Daily Prophet with one hand and holding a cup of tea in the other. It was funny to Draco because he explicitly remembers Theo promising that he would never become his father who did this exact thing.

Looking around his surroundings, he noticed how his other best friend wasn’t around. “Where’s Zabini?”

“I think he went out for a walk,” Theo guessed. “Think he’s been gone for about an hour now that I think about it.” He put his paper down and mirrored the look of curiosity that was also on Draco’s face. Seconds later, the devil himself walked into Draco’s home. The look on his face was the same he had back in Hogwarts. A look Draco and Theo knew all too well.

“How? Actually no, scratch that. Who?” Theo pressed on instantly. Draco was also interested as to how Blaise somehow seduced a woman a day into his vacation in the foreign country. “You gits really want to know who?” They both nodded. He stood hesitantly but kept the smirk on his face, “Your muggle neighbor, Y/N.”

Theo stood up and gave Blaise a high-five, “You still got the magic touch I see.”

“Please never say that again,” Blaise sighed. He went on to explain everything that just happened, how he accidentally saw you, how he went over and how you invited him in for coffee and talked for about an hour. Well, mainly flirted. Then he talked about how he acted coy and wanted to know whatever was nice in town and when you told him about a French restaurant uptown, he used it as a way to ask you on a date.

Blaise was explaining everything, but it all sounded quiet to Draco. He couldn’t hear a word out of his friends mouth after he said your name.

“Mate, you alright? You look pale,” Blaise looked concerned.

Draco snapped out of it and lied through his teeth, “I’m fine. Just tired and slightly hungover is all.” Lie? Why would I be lying about this? Wait… why am I lying about this?

“Oh, well I can make the thing my mum makes for hangovers if you’d like,” Theo offered.

“No, it’s fine. I’ll just get some rest.” Draco walked to his bedroom and removed the necktie around his collar. As he walked in, he saw how his curtain wasn’t fully closed. He opened it slightly and as he looked across, he saw you sitting in a chair in your bedroom. You seemed to have been in a haze before you looked up and met your eyes with his. You waved gently and Draco, as he always does now, nodded his head and closed the curtains.

This can’t be real.

—

next chp

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#draco malfoy #draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy au #draco malfoy angst #draco malfoy fluff #draco malfoy fanfiction #draco malfoy fic #draco malfoy smut #draco malfoy x muggle!reader #draco malfoy x female reader #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy x y/n #draco malfoy x you #draco x female reader #draco x muggle!reader #draco x you #draco x y/n

[wewillwriteyou]

Crazy Little Thing Called Love || Chapter 11

A few elements from the main plot: A fine line falls between fiction and reality: what starts as a musical slowly becomes a game-changer. Tables will turn and it will get clear as the sun that the only unstoppable power in life … is love.

Summary Chapter 10: Elizabeth and Joe finally have the chance to spend some time alone. Will it be the right time for them to admit their feelings? 

Word count: 4.8K+

Warnings:  SMUT! (protected sex and graphic descriptions) towards the end of the chapter - Please read it only if you’re 18+; cuteness and FLUFF are all over the place & some language here and there as usual

A/N: Believe us, folks, you are not ready for this chapter! Sit down and enjoy the ride, a pretty wild ride if you ask us 🌶😏💗

Tuesday, 24 December 2019 

“Because you are the only one for me.” “How can you be certain? We were all fooled by the spell cast by the love filter…” “I never needed a spell to look into your eyes and see love”

“Do you think he’ll keep his mouth shut?” Joe asked, without averting his eyes from the book he was holding. He was laying on Elizabeth’s bed, his head on the pillow and the book in one hand, while the other flipped the pages.

“Who?” Elizabeth asked, briefly looking in his direction without stopping her pen on the notebook. She was practising drawing buildings in perspective and she had chosen the 9th dormitory as her first try: she knew that building like she knew the insides of her pockets.

“Ben,” Joe answered and Elizabeth stopped drawing to look at him. She was sitting crossed legs beside him, her back leaning on the bed’s headboard.

“Why wouldn’t he?” she asked, furrowing her eyebrows.

“Dunno, - Joe licked the tip of his finger to flip another page – no reason, I guess… Just wondering if we should be more careful…”

Elizabeth hesitated a moment: did he meant he regretted moving in with her? Was that his way of telling her?

“Joe, - she took a deep breath – if you’re having seconds thoughts about this I understand, I-”

Joe shut his book and sat up to look at her, “What? No that’s not what I meant.” He gently threw the book at the end of the bed and turned to cross his legs as well, “I’m just worried something could jeopardise my year… or yours, for that matter… or even the play, I don’t know what I’d do if they expelled me or worse… - he took a pause – if they cancelled the play.”

Elizabeth chuckled while going back to her drawing, “You need to sort out your priorities…”

Joe laughed, “Ron Wesley? Seriously? You’re throwing Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone to my face?”

Elizabeth slowly nodded, biting her lip to keep from laughing as well and drew another windowpane to the building.

“It’s your fault, Hermione… – she giggled – Your life spins around that play a bit too much if you ask me…”

Joe opened his mouth and brought a hand to his chest, exaggerating his shock, “Excuse me?!”

Elizabeth couldn’t stop giggling and she knew her lack of concentration was messing up her drawing, “Stop making me laugh! I can’t work like this!”

She uncrossed her legs to get up and go sit at her desk, but a hand trapped her arm and made her fall on her back on the mattress. She squealed and left the grip on the notebook, that fell on the floor with a thud.

The girl giggled and realised she still had the pen in her hand. It took less than a second to Joe to understand what she was going to do and he reacted immediately, but he wasn’t fast enough. Before he could trap both her hands by her sides, Elizabeth had managed to draw a small line on his cheek.

For a fraction of a second, they stared into each other’s eyes.

Joe raised an eyebrow, “Really? How old are you? Five?”

Elizabeth giggled shrugging her shoulders, “It was self-defence”

“Oh really? – Joe grabbed both her wrists with a hand – And how do you defend from… the tickle monster?”

“What! – Elizabeth widened her eyes and tried to wriggle herself free from his grip - Let me go, Joe”

She got out of it before it was too late and she swiftly turned around to trap him against the headboard, the pen in her hand and a wily smirk on her face.

“Don’t mess with me” she theatrically threatened him.

Joe couldn’t stop smiling and giggling like a dork, he was well aware of that. But he didn’t care. Because in that moment, in that room, there were only the two of them. And it felt like a jump in the past when they were in middle school and they were always at each other’s houses.

He didn’t want to interrupt that moment of silliness but he couldn’t resist. He began chuckling to himself, “You know? This will sound weird but… this reminds me of when we were thirteen – he looked at Elizabeth and she had sat back in front of him, deposing her fearful weapon - I’d sleepover at your house and you at mine and we’d play Nintendo till past bedtime… I still remember your mom yelling at us to turn off the light and us laughing and turning it off just to turn it back on once we’d hear her climb under the covers.”

Elizabeth giggled, “Yeah, I remember that too… And my mom does too, for that matter…- Joe chuckled as well – She still asks me about you sometimes.”

Joe was surprised, “Really? Martha asks about me?”

Elizabeth lightly slapped his arm, “Of course she does… she wants you to stop keeping me up playing Nintendo games all night”

Joe chuckled, “So I’m the bad influence on you?”

Elizabeth forcefully nodded, “Sure, she says I should really stop seeing you… - Joe acted shocked and she couldn’t keep a straight face – But don’t worry. I’ll never get rid of you, babe”

And in saying so she theatrically and gently caressed his cheek.

It would have been completely normal for them to act that way, but in that moment, as she caressed his cheek, even if she was play-pretending, she suddenly felt embarrassed and the warmth spreading on her cheeks betrayed her. She blushed evidently, partly because of what she realised she’d sad and partly because of how close they were in that very instant.

From Joe’s point of view, the situation had become awkward as soon as Elizabeth had trapped him against the headboard and he couldn’t help but think about what else could have happened there besides threatening each other with a pen.

When her soft hand had caressed his face and redness had spread on her cheeks, he’d understood she had probably perceived the awkwardness as well.

He cleared his voice, “Well we should tell Martha, that her daughter’s not very good either… she draws on people”, he decided to say instead, trying breaking the tension.

Elizabeth lightly chuckled and without thinking about it twice, she licked her thumb and rubbed the black line she’d drawn on him. It was a reflex, something that had looked innocent in her head. Something she had already done in the past and it had been fine.

But that night, it was everything besides fine.

It was like everything they did they could only make the situation more awkward.

Did we lose our chemistry?, she asked herself. Are we not friends like we used to?

She feared those three weeks of reacquainting with one another had been a waste of time. What if their friendship had been damaged permanently?

Joe gulped, the tension was back to make his spine stiff again and his ability of reasoning weaker.

Elizabeth let out a burst of constraint laughter, “I’m sorry, I don’t know what’s gotten into me tonight…”

She shifted on the bed and instead of sitting in front of him, she sat by his side, her back leaning on the headboard and her head abandoned to fall backwards.

Joe glanced at her and cleared his throat again, his voice serious, “It’s okay, Liz.”

He saw her closing her eyes, biting her lip and lightly shaking her head. She probably thought it was imperceptible but he’d seen her.

He took a deep breath. He had to say something. He had a feeling all that was happening for one reason. And he didn’t know whether to be happy, confused or scared that the reason might actually have been what he was hoping for.

“Liz, - he started quietly, slowly turning to look at her as she did the same, the head still resting on the headboard – you remember how we used to play true confessions in high school?”

Elizabeth sluggishly chuckled and nodded.

“Well, - Joe continued – I have a confession to make.”

He paused for a few seconds, knowing he was going down a one-way road, with no chance of turning back.

She frowned, “What, Joey?”

Joey, he thought to himself. If on the outside he looked nervous, the mention of that stupid nickname was causing a storm of emotions inside his head. Joey and Lizzie were how they called each other anytime the other needed to talk about something serious: those nicknames had always made them laugh so they seemed perfect to mention when all the other person needed was a smile.

It worked like it had every time before.

Joe smiled before continuing and Elizabeth smiled at him back.

“Lizzie, - he started again with a half-smile – I know I’ll be talking nonsense from now on, so please stop me if you decide you don’t want to hear it. Because once I say it I won’t be able to get it back…”

The girl furrowed her eyebrows again. Her instinct was telling her she already knew what he was about to say. At least, she thought she knew. She hoped, she knew.

She shifted again and turned her body towards him, leaning on her side on the headboard, a silent gesture to say ‘I’m listening’.

Joe exhaled for the hundredth time in those last five minutes.

“I’ve been meaning to tell you for a while now - he began slowly - Well actually I didn’t know I wanted to tell you at first… I thought I was misreading things and I tried to forget about it all, but then Gwilym happened and I didn’t know how to talk to you… you had disappeared from my life and I couldn’t stand –”

Elizabeth’s smile widened. She still didn’t know how to feel about what was happening. She was feeling too many emotions to choose only one.

“Joe-Joe–” she tried interrupting him, but he kept on talking, his sentences speeding up as they followed one another.

“But when I saw you that day at the park and I told you I was fine, I knew you knew I wasn’t and when I found you alone there, I couldn’t help but feel relieved, even it that makes me a terrible friend to Gwilym. I was happy I could try again and-”

“Joe could you just-” she chuckled: it was like trying to have a conversation during a rapping contest.

“And then, – he continued undaunted, his lips curving into a smile because he knew she had caught on where he was leading to - I came here to tell you because I wanted to know what you wanted to say to me that same day at the park but I saw-”

Elizabeth rolled her eyes, the biggest smile lighting her face.

And without thinking of it twice, she shut him up properly.

She swiftly turned and, placing a hand on his cheek, she guided her lips onto his.

Joe hadn’t registered immediately what was happening and the kiss remained barely a long-lasting smack for a couple of seconds.

When he realised words weren’t strictly necessary to let her know what he wanted to say, he smiled against her lips and, bringing a hand behind her neck, he inclined his head to deepen the kiss.

Elizabeth felt like someone had lighted a hot air balloon inside her chest. She couldn’t stop smiling between one kiss and the other and Joe curving his lips in a smile as well could only make her smile more.

They pulled away at the same time, both breathless and with a spark in their eyes. They stared into each other’s eyes for a few instants, before bursting out laughing in unison.

Elizabeth rubbed her eyes, trying recomposing herself. Joe placed a hand on his belly to stop himself from laughing more.

“Why are we laughing?” he asked, still chuckling.

Elizabeth brought a hand to her forehead and shook her head with a small giggle, “I really have no idea…”

They both sat back, their gazes fixed on Elizabeth’s desk at the end of her bed.

“So…” Joe started again.

“So,” Elizabeth echoed him, turning her head to look at him, a small shy smile on her face.

“So, you liked my confession?…” Joe asked and Elizabeth pushed her shoulder against his chuckling.

She looked at her hands fidgeting in her lap, “I don’t know why I did that”

The smile slowly vanished from her face as she thought about it. She had been impulsive. Again. Just like she had done with Gwilym. And look where it has brought you…, she thought to herself.

She hated jumping back and forth from happy to worried all the time. Doing something and then overthinking about it. She was sick of it. Why couldn’t she be more decisive? Why did she have to always question everything her own mind thought?

Joe slowly stopped chuckling and stared at the weaved blanket at the end of the bed, confused. What did that mean? Why had she kissed him if she was already regretting it? Had it not meant the same to her as it had to him?

“Did you… - he tried to find the right words – …want that?”

Elizabeth forced herself to think about the answer. YES. More than anything I’ve ever wanted, her heart shouted. And please tell me you wanted it as much as I did.

“Yes, - she said instead calmly – but I wish it hadn’t happened… I think I might have made things weird”

“Oh, - Joe replied, more disappointment in his voice than he’d wanted to let transpire – then… why did you do that?”

Elizabeth knew he wouldn’t have stopped asking questions until she’d told him the truth and sometimes she hated how well she knew him.

She huffed, “I don’t know, Joe…”. She got up from the mattress and picked up the notebook.

Yeah, I do, she thought to herself.

“I think you do,” he replied, a little bit of anger mixing to the set of emotions he was feeling in that moment.

“No, I don’t”, she walked to her desk to put down notebook and pen.

Stop lying!

“Yes you do, Liz, stop lying!” Joe got up as well to follow her.

“Stop reading my mind!” she shouted back, not realising that was supposed to be just a thought.

Joe raised an eyebrow. Anger and confusion were having the better of him, “Why can’t you be honest? I exposed myself over there! – he pointed at the bed where they’d been sitting – Why can’t you do the same?”

“I’m trying to protect you!” she shouted back staring at him, her eyes slightly watered by the emotions she was trying to push down.

When he frowned again, she averted her eyes and looked outside the window, where darkness had already taken over the sky.

“I don’t want it to happen again, - she confessed under her voice – not with you”

Joe’s expression softened, “Can you please articulate your thoughts?”

Elizabeth forced her hands down her sides so that she could stop fidgeting.

“I don’t want what happened with Gwilym to happen with you as well” she repeated.

She huffed and brushed her hair away from her forehead, “Nothing good comes from when I get impulsive. I only get myself into trouble and end up hurting myself and others - she paused for a second – I already lost a friend. I don’t want to lose you…”

Joe furrowed his eyebrows shaking his head, “Who says you’re going to lose me? – he took a step closer and fixed a loose strand of red hair behind her ear – Just because it didn’t work with Gwilym doesn’t mean it won’t for us…”

Us. At the bare thought, she could feel butterflies flying in every direction inside her stomach. She had never felt that way. With anyone in her whole life. Maybe it’s a sign, her hopeful heart commented.

“How can you already talk about ‘us’? - she half-smiled – And even if what you say is true, do you really want to risk everything? Knowing it might not work out and it might end like it has for me and Gwilym? Do you want to sacrifice everything we’ve built for an impetuous decision on a casual Christmas night?”

Joe registered everything she had listed and he really wished he could think everything through. Twice. But he had already made up his mind at the first half-smile she had given him.

“Liz, - his lips curved into a smile, unable to contain the excitement of the anticipation – you are worth the risk.”

He watched the redness spreading on her cheeks and the smile gleaming on her face but he didn’t give her the chance to reply. Before she knew, his lips were on hers and his hands were already holding her.

Joe had longed for that moment for such a long time he couldn’t believe it was happening. He thought at any time his alarm would have rung and he would have woken up like he had done several times in those last few months.

And somehow even if he had imagined it, kissing Elizabeth was nothing like he’d thought. He figured there would have been hesitation and shyness from both sides, but it couldn’t be further from reality.

There was an unspeakable hunger for the other person from both sides. They looked for each other in every kiss, every touch, every breath, and faster than they could realise, they let passion drive their bodies.

Without breaking the kiss, Joe stepped forward to the desk, making her walk backwards and hit the wooden surface with her lower back.

She effortlessly jumped on it and opened her legs to let Joe stand closer to her. He smiled on her lips when she did that and adrenaline shot up to her brain. She wrapped an arm behind his back and pulled him closer, while his hand found the way behind her neck beneath her loose hair.

Joe felt like soaring a hundred feet above the ground. The scent coming from her hair was inebriating and he felt like he was losing the last brims of lucidity he had left. He felt incredibly happy and the excitement of finally being with her was almost overwhelming.

He was well aware of her doubts and he felt like he could not blame her after everything he had watched her go through. But somehow his gut was telling him that anything could have happened to them and they still would have made past it. Together.

Elizabeth could feel the excitement running through her veins, a sensation she’d never experienced before. Not at that extent at least. It was like someone had poured fire inside her veins and in the few fractions of a second she was lucid, she thought that with Gwilym it had been nothing like this.

Her ability to think straight was being obfuscated by Joe’s hands holding her tight and roaming around her back, but she was well aware of what she was feeling. And she knew, deep inside her self, that Joe could have been endgame.

She suddenly pulled away to stare into his eyes, looking for something even she wasn’t quite sure of. Something to tell her this time her instinct may have been the right path to follow.

Joe simply smiled, asking with his breath short, “Is everything okay?”

She cupped his chin with her hands and lightly brushed her thumbs on his cheeks, returning him the smile, “I’m okay”.

Joe’s smile grew brighter as he leaned in to kiss her gently. He slid his hands down to her lower back and moved her legs to wrap around his waist, picking her up from the desk.

Elizabeth broke the kiss giggling, “What the hell are you doing?”

He did not seem to be handling it well and chuckled, trying to hide the effort he was actually putting into it.

Elizabeth could not help but laugh the whole way to the bed – which took three steps – and her laughs grew louder when he dropped her on the mattress and collapsed beside her.

Joe tried to push down his laughs as well not to interrupt the rather passionate moment, but her laughter was too damn contagious.

“I thought it’d be hot and romantic…” he said between chuckles, a tingle of disappointment in his tone.

Elizabeth got up on her elbows, laughter slowly fading away, “I’m sorry, Joe – she extended her arm to caress his cheek and guide him closer – It was really romantic”

Joe chuckled and shook his head, “You’re a terrible liar,” he said, closing once again the distance between their lips.

He rolled on top of her, holding himself up on the elbows. Her hands climbed up his back, beneath the sweater and t-shirt and it felt freezing cold against his hot skin. That contrast only helped his excitement to grow and a hushed groan disappeared into the kiss.

Elizabeth ran her hands up to help him get his head out of the sweater and for a brief moment they shared a look that meant ‘is this really happening?’.

He came down to kiss her again, hands flying at the brim of her sweater, taking it off with a few rapid motions. His lips left hers only to trace a trail down her neck and above her collarbone. Elizabeth exhaled deeply, her hands roaming on his back and through his hair to keep him close to her body.

The moment he nibbled at the skin underneath her ear, her brain was no longer in control of her actions. A hand rushed to the edge of his shirt and pulled it up so that she could throw it on the floor.

Pulling away for an instant, he got her out of her t-shirt as well. His brain was acute enough to realise it was not the first time he had seen her bra, but it sure was the first time he had seen it and felt the urge to rip it off.

Without a warning, Elizabeth got up and undressed from her pants, while Joe followed with a burning gaze. From a drawer in her desk, she pulled out a silver square and with all the nonchalance she could find, she walked back to the bed, pulled back the covers and gestured him to join her.

Joe was still startled and had trouble thinking and acting straight. The direction they were heading towards was pretty final and irreversible and he couldn’t help feeling a little nervous.

He got out of his pants as well, suddenly feeling… exposed in front of her. He kneeled back on the bed and looked for comfort into her eyes. He could see she was thinking the same. As she rested a hand on his shoulder and gently pulled him closer to crash her lips onto his, he kept thinking how crazy it was doing all that with her.

They shifted so she could lay down on her back again and without breaking the kiss, Elizabeth reached out and turned off the switch of her abatjour, leaving the room in almost complete darkness if it wasn’t for the street lamp outside the window and the decrescent moon watching over them.

He lowered himself and broke the kiss to trace a trail of kisses down her neck to the middle of her breasts. She hushed a moan and ran her hands in his hair, as his lips proceeded down her belly until the elastic of her panties.

“Joe,” she uttered, lifting her hips to help him pull down her knickers.

He smirked on her skin, planting a kiss right where the elastic had been and climbed back up to kiss her lips again. Her hands grazed his skin till the elastic band of his briefs and very slowly pulled them down.

Joe thought he could have cum just because of how slow she was rolling them down: it was torture. He shifted so that he could climb out of them with a sigh of relief.

As he came up to hover her again, he slid a hand underneath her back and unhooked her bra. She got out of it and threw it on the floor with the rest of their clothes, exposing the last piece of herself.

They looked for each other’s eyes in the darkness for one last proof it was all real and just smiled, nodding at each other.

This is it, that meant.

She opened the silver package and Joe adjusted himself and after another brief glance of reassurance, he sank into her, hushed groans leaving his pink lips.

Elizabeth arched her back and exhaled heavily, quiet moans escaping her lips as Joe found a slow pace. Her arms and legs involuntarily wrapped around his body as if to cling to him and keep him as close as she could.

At that new angle, Joe was nearly overwhelmed with pleasure, he shut his eyes and bit his lips to hush himself from groaning out loud.

“G-God… Liz, you’re killing me…” he managed to say and she let out a brief breathless chuckle but couldn’t bring herself to articulate any words.

She roamed her fingertips up and down the soft skin of his back, causing him to mutter something that sounded like fuck under his breath.

While he had slowed the pace to rest a little, she held the grip with her legs and rolled both of them over so that Joe was now laying on his back. As she sat up and started circling her hips in a slow deadly pace, Joe ran his hands through his hair, moaning and muttering swear words.

When his hips spasmed upwards, signalling he was close to his climax, Elizabeth let her head fall backwards, overcome by a rush of pleasure. It felt like electricity in her veins. She felt her core clenching and she knew she was very close as well.

She stopped her hips and lowered herself to kiss him again. Joe took the chance to roll over and thrust a few times more before letting the climax rush through him. As he kept moving for a few seconds after, waiting for Elizabeth to come undone as well, he intertwined his hand with hers and held it tight.

They collapsed next to each other. And for a few seconds, the room was dead silent. The only noises were the radiator and the freezing wind shaking the plants outside.

Elizabeth was still incredulous of what had happened, and even if she may have thought about comparing the experience with Gwilym’s before, she knew she had no reason to. She didn’t want to. They were two completely different matters.

“You literally know everything about me now,” she whispered, a dopey smile on her face.

Joe slowly chuckled, sliding his arm under her neck and intertwining their fingers together, as Elizabeth rested her head between his shoulder and chest.

He hesitated, suddenly vulnerable and insecure, “Did you… regret this?”

Elizabeth tilted her head back so they could look at each other in the eyes, “This may be the first time in my life when I am sure I have done the right thing.”

Joe’s smile widened as he let out a sigh of relief and leaned to kiss her forehead.

“Well, you have done me, - he continued in his usual playful tone – so that would make me ‘the right thing’?”

Elizabeth chuckled and shook her head, “You’re a doofus as always”.

Joe was glad she looked relaxed: he’d worried he’d forced her into something she didn’t want to be dragged into, but now that they were back to their usual shenanigans, he knew they were fine.

“Funniest thing is – Elizabeth continued – Hardy thought we had already done this… I mean from the look he gave us, he seemed to think, if we hadn’t already, then we would have done it soon…”

“Well, we proved him wrong…” Joe sarcastically said they chuckled, as their fingers kept intertwining and untangling.

Elizabeth’s phone lighting up partially ruined the quiet atmosphere. She excused herself and got up to fetch it from the desk, while Joe headed to the bathroom to dispose of the condom.

“It’s my mom… It’s past midnight,” Elizabeth said, before realising she was standing butt naked in the middle of the room.

As she picked up her knickers and Joe’s pijama t-shirt, Joe reappeared into the room with a new pair of boxers and a sweet smile on his face, “Merry Christmas, Lizzie”

He walked up to her and planted a chaste kiss on her lips.

“Merry Christmas, Joey - she replied with a smile, - We are in big trouble…” she added, rotating the screen of her phone in his direction.

Joe furrowed his eyebrows confused and tried focusing on the chain of notifications, “Holy crap,” he just commented.

2 voicemails.

5 missed calls.

3 missed video calls.

37 texts.

All from Alex, the last one saying: ‘I am gonna kill you, woman’

-

Chapters: ⬸ previous | next ⤑

Pretty spicy and damn cute, don’t you think so? Let us know your opinion, reblog and like the chpater if you enjoyed it! Stay safe during these hard times! 💖

Cheers, folks! xx 🌷

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Joker Review

*Disclaimer* I held off posting this review until Phoenix won the Oscar. I promised myself that if he hadn��t won, I would have just left this in the drafts forever. That’s how much faith I had in this man and now here is my critique of my favorite film of 2019. 

I have a tattoo on my right arm. The tattoo is actually the Batman logo but altered. One half of the logo is normal but the other half is made up of red “HAHAHAHA’s” all over. There’s a reason why the dynamic between these two is my favorite of all-time. It’s two different interpretations of insanity colliding in an eternal battle. It’s two iconic, well-written, captivating characters having epic confrontations. 

Needless to say, I love the characters of Batman and The Joker. I grew up on them and they have played a huge part of my life. My ideologies, my way of thinking, my perception of the world, my behavior in private and in public have been directly and/or indirectly impacted by these two characters.

Any film or any form of media that have these two, separate or together, is already met with my high expectations. So obviously, my expectations for this film were through the roof. If this film was nothing short of great, I would have been really angry. 

I would have been the first to say how disappointed I was, I would have been the first to say that Joaquin Phoenix should never play The Joker again, I would have been the first to say that Todd Philips should stick to raunchy comedies and stay away from the character as far as possible....but that’s not the case here. 

I’m singing a different tune. A tune that I’m gonna be letting everyone hear with every chance I get. A tune that I’m gonna be playing in my head whenever I dance on the street. 

Ladies and gentlemen... please welcome Joker.

The Tragedy

First of all, I’ll begin with some faults that I found in the film. Not a whole lot but I have to get these out of the way so that I can end the review with high points. 

1.) The origin story we didn’t want but the one we got anyway

Now when I talk about origin story, I don’t mean Joker’s. I mean Batman’s. I’m really sorry to say but I am getting absolutely sick of seeing THAT scene. 

I have to point out that it felt like this scene was rushed. It wasn’t shot as well as the other scenes. Every other scene in Joker felt like there was a beautiful story behind it. As if there was a creative progress going through the minds of the people in the scene and off the camera but this scene felt rushed and was treated like an afterthought. 

I must admit, of all the films that showed Bruce’s parents in the alley, this one might be one of the weakest I’ve seen in a while. Even that piece of garbage Batman V. Superman had a slightly better way of showing that scene. If you’re going to show us a scene that’s been overly done since the beginning of Batman films, you gotta add a little more flavor and cinematic flair to it. Sad to say that for a film that was shot so well, this scene stuck out like a sore thumb. 

2.) A little too much dancing and a few too many ribs

As it says in the point, there’s a little too much there.  Don’t get me wrong, I love most of his dance scenes but there’s maybe 1 or 2 too many. I personally would have kept the first dance scene when accidentally shoots a gun, the one after his first kill, the one with his mother, and all the dance scenes once he completely transforms. These particular dance scenes were showing us a slow evolution and allowed to see how his mind was slowly changing. But there were a few dance scenes that didn’t really do that and instead was just kind of there. For example, the few dance scenes where he’s half-naked can be taken out completely and it wouldn’t make a difference. 

And speaking of him being half-naked. I understand the film wants us to see how weak he his and in some scenes, it wants to show you the literal scars he got from society. However in some of these scenes, it gets a little distracting. The first scene where he’s half naked and trying to adjust his shoe is just perfect because for one, you don’t know really know what he’s doing at first so it leaves you wondering for a few seconds and two, you get to see how much his frail body struggles with something so simple. 

But then you have a few scenes where he’s unnecessary shirtless like the one where he’s smoking and watching TV. It seemed needless for him to be shirtless for this scene because the main point of it was his reaction towards what was being shown on TV. Again, it’s no problem to show us how skinny and weak he looks but it has to be the point or a point of a scene or else it’s just distracting.

Small gripes but I had to find some criticisms for the film. But now that that’s out of the way, let’s put a smile on that face (I know they’re not the same. Just be like Joe and Chill).

The Comedy 

1.) Romero, Nicholson, Ledger, Hamill, and now...

 ...Phoenix

There have been numerous people who have played the Joker with each actor adding their own twist to the Clown Prince of Crime. Romero embodied the camp and goofiness of the Silver Age iteration, Nicholson provided a more laid-back and mafia-esque performance, Ledger portrayed him as a true anarchist who “wants to watch the world burn”, and the legendary Hamill basically performed multiple layers of Joker’s persona for his 20+ years as the character and is THE definitive voice (and laugh) of The Joker. 

Joaquin Phoenix joins this hall of fame (or infamy) by giving us a closer, more in-depth look at the mentally ill, physically battered, and emotionally abandoned man behind the smile. 

I honestly can’t give this guy the praise he really deserves but I’ll do my best. My lord...this man blew me away like I was a talk-show host. Powerhouse performance doesn’t even begin to describe his acting. 

This film, as well-made as it was, wouldn’t have worked nearly as well had it not been for its main star. This film hinged on how well Mr. Phoenix played the titular character and he absolutely delivered.

The film had a tough job in its hands: portray how a man was slowly dissenting into madness to the point that he lets the madness in and indulges in it. It was going to be a deliberately slow process that required an actor who can be significantly subtle enough to convey to the audience how a character is evolving but taking small steps to do so. Phoenix did that with flying colors. 

If you look at the first scene where we’re introduced to Arthur, it’s clearly not the same Arthur when the film reaches its ending. We went from a man who walks with a slouch and a noticeable stiffness to a man who vigorously dances in the streets without a care in the world. 

Don’t get it twisted, though. Phoenix didn’t play two different people nor did he play a man who takes a sudden huge leap in his personality. He played a person who displays slight changes to his psyche in each scene and these small changes eventually pile up. Arthur was meant to be a man who was layered like an onion and Phoenix’s performance mirrored that perfectly. 

Is he the best Joker? I can’t say that. Each Joker I’ve been introduced to, while having a different spin, is ultimately the Joker at his peak or even at the twilight of his criminal life. This is the first time where I’ve witnessed a Joker who is still truly staring out. And no, Nicholson doesn’t count because Jack Napier was an established criminal way before he became the Joker. So I’m not too sure yet where to rank Phoenix’s actual full-blown Joker as it doesn’t last long however excellent it was AND a huge factor for me when it comes to ranking Jokers is the interactions with Batman. There was no Joker and Batman clash here. Only Arthur and Bruce. As it stands, Phoenix’s spot on the all-time Joker list may not be the highest but in terms of pure acting, he may very well be #1. 

I know this sentiment has been repeated multiple times but I do honestly believe Phoenix deserved the Oscar here or at least a nod. 

2.) Familiar punchline, fresh set-up 

For any Batman/Joker fan, you’ve probably heard of this following quote:

“If I’m going to have a past, I prefer it to be multiple choice.” 

It’s an iconic quote and one that you will hear in almost any review of this film but there is a good reason for it. The line encapsulates one of the best things about The Joker: the mystery of his origins. 

As mysterious as the character is, it’s hard to keep The Joker interesting these days. He is the most over-exposed Batman villain of all time and quite possibly the most over-exposed villain in fiction period. Comic books, video games, tv shows, live-action movies. The Joker has been in EVERYTHING. Like his heroic counterpart, the Joker has been exposed too much to the point that there’s really not a lot of fresh things you can do with him.  

The last time any media brought something refreshing to The Joker was in Telltale’s Batman video game where you meet a man named “John Doe” who’s still looking for himself and finding out which path in life he wants to take. In the game, whatever John becomes is based on your actions. That was in 2017. 

The last time before that was in 2011′s Flashpoint where Martha Wayne became The Joker in an alternate timeline where Bruce dies in the alley. Even though this version of the Joker had a clear backstory and no mysterious origin, it was still fresh because of the sheer novelty of seeing Bruce Wayne’s mother as The Joker and his father as Batman.

So there are stretches of time where there’s nothing new and exciting for The Joker character but I’m happy to say that this film does breathe new life into the character. 

The filmmakers understood how this specific character should be handled and they did it in ways that are plausible. His abusive but vague childhood and his delusions help in keeping the film from being straightforward. 

Let me give some examples. In the scene where Arthur steals his mother’s files in the Asylum, it’s said that he was adopted by Penny and that he was abused by one of her boyfriends. 

Some people I’ve talked to believe that it was Thomas Wayne who put Penny in the Asylum and forged adoption papers. Some people even say that it was Thomas Wayne who abused them when Arthur was a child. Some people say that it’s true and Arthur really was adopted. 

We don’t know these things definitively and that’s the best part. It’s whatever you want it to be. Multiple choice. 

I personally want to believe that Arthur really was adopted because that just adds another air of mystery to him. If he was then we don’t know his actual birth name or who is real parents are.  

All in all, even though the evolution of Arthur into The Joker remains the ultimate goal, the film lets you make up your own path into how he got there. It’s handled beautifully and the script is clearly made with a lot of knowledge of and love for the character. 

3. A problem tackled with grace

I just wanted to point how well this film handles the issue of mental health and illness. This topic will forever be relevant and is an issue that’s been tackled in media before. Some handled it terribly, some handled it bad, some handled it ok, some handled it well. And then there’s Joker that handles it amazingly. 

As someone who sees mental illness on a regular basis, it was so sublime how accurate this film was. The image of a decaying mind and one that descends further and further down is so powerful in this film and it just never half-asses it and I loved that. 

My girlfriend is a nurse and she interacts with mentally ill people far more than I ever will and she praised it more because everything she saw from Arthur is something that she has personally had to deal with in her patients. I asked her if there was even one inaccurate and she said “No” because everything was completely plausible and has actually happened in real life on multiple occasions. Delusions of grandeur, uncontrollable ticks (like a laugh), murderous tendency, self-harm, stalking, hallucinating, you name it and most likely, this film shows it. 

Not only is Arthur’s mental illness accurate but what makes it better and why I praise it is how others deal with him. It’s scary how much it mirrors reality. Some people may know how to interact with him while others just get annoyed with him. Even those who are accepting of mentally ill people can still have be irritated with them when they come in contact with them. 

Arthur is beaten not just because he’s mentally ill but because he just looks like a weak man who can be pushed around. People don’t care if he’s sick, they’ll kick his ass or make fun of him regardless and in some cases, they’ll have even more incentive when they learn he has mental problems which is sadly similar to the world we live in today.

Joker is arguably the best adaption of mental illness for this decade (I say arguably because Bojack Horseman is up there) and I can’t believe that the director of the Hangover films got it right and speaking of which...

4. He directed what??

Todd Philips, the man behind the Hangover trilogy, Starsky and Hutch (2004), and Old School directed this film. Imagine late 2018 and you just heard who the director was and you search for the films he directed prior. Did you honestly believe, in your heart of hearts, he was going to pull this off?

Don’t get me wrong, comedic talents have proven to excel in other genres. Jordan Peele is a great example of that but that doesn’t necessarily apply to every comedian...However, it applied to Mr. Philips. 

His direction, his vision, his execution was top-notch and I have to apologize to this man because I honestly doubted him when I initially heard about it. I knew Phoenix was going to do well and I thought that the film would just rely solely on his performance but no. Todd Philips deserves a lot of credit here. Yes, he takes some ideas and cues from Scorsese (not a bad inspiration by the way) but he handles the psychological aspect in his own style.

In terms of performers, this was close to a one-man show as you can get but Philips’ contributions behind-the-scenes should to be given as much appreciation. Phoenix was the master painter and Philips gave him the tools.

Honestly, if Philips wants to direct more dramatic and heavier films akin to this, I’m all for it. If he wants to stick around and maybe direct some more DC films, I am definitely on board. In this time of uncertainty towards DC films, Philips gave me hope. Yes, I know this film isn’t part of the DCEU but if they want to create more films in the Elseworld universe, Philips should still be part of it in some way. 

5. The sound of laughter

I’m not going to lie. I rarely appreciate film scores. While I do believe they enhance a film’s quality, I’m not actively seeking it out unless it truly stands out. The only scores I truly remember and appreciate is the opening score for Star Wars, the Superman score, the main score for Indiana Jones, the Back to The Future action sequence score, Danny Elfman’s Batman score, and all of the scores from The Godfather films. 

By the way I realized the first three examples I gave all sound similar but it makes sense since John Williams made them all.

So out of the hundreds (possibly thousands) of films I’ve seen, these are the only scores I can truly remember and now we add one more to the list: the dark and beautiful score by Hildur Guðnadóttir. 

She absolutely gave me a much better understanding of how music can not only enhance a scene but be worked around it. Apparently, the music was made first and Todd Philips would shoot scenes with the score playing in the background so that he can craft scenes based on which part of the score he was listening to. This is the first time something like this has ever happened in the filmmaking process and it absolutely worked wonders. No wonder why each scene tied in so beautifully to a specific part of the score.

Hildur has made it and I hope to hear more of her work in future projects. 

6. To a bright future (hopefully)...

This section is more of a call to action than a positive point for the film. That being said, Joker’s success has opened up many possibilities for DC films moving forward. 

Let’s be honest here. The recent attempt of DC keeping up with Marvel in terms of films has not been great. DC is Marvel’s biggest competitor but when you just look purely at movie success, you wouldn’t think that.

That’s because Marvel started something solid over a decade ago and is currently having the biggest and most epic film franchise today and, quite possible, of all time. 

DC tried (and is still trying) to do the same but it has been a roller-coaster with some enjoyable ups (Man of Steel, Wonder Woman, Shazam) and terrible downs (Batman V. Superman, Justice League, Suicide Squad, Birds of Prey). 

Now with the huge commercial and critical success of this film, Warner Bros. need to take advantage of this while they have the chance. Joker is a film that is set in its own universe and not a part of the bigger DCEU and this could be DC’s way of being as successful as Marvel. Elseworld stories. Detective Comics was the first to put huge emphasis on a multiverse in their comics and I believe it’s time to bring that to the films. 

They’ve already implemented a multiverse with the television shows but now is the time to let the silver screen experience this. 

Unlike Disney, Warner Bros. has the movie rights to ALL of the DC characters. All of them. From heavyweights like Superman and Batman to less popular characters like Question and Red Tornado. They need to make use of that advantage because there are plenty of characters who have not had successful film ventures yet. Green Lantern, Martian Manhunter, Batgirl, Constantine (sorry Keanu) Lobo, Zatanna, Static Shock, Booster Gold (a personal favorite) and so many more. Give these characters a chance. They can shine in their own standalone movie that doesn’t have to do with the DCEU. However, if you want to put all of them in the same universe, you’ll need visionary writers capable of that. 

Consider this my call to action for Warner Bros. because I’m admittedly more of a DC fan than a Marvel. Don’t get me wrong, I love both franchises but DC was my first so I am biased towards them. I’m happy that Marvel has continuous success but it also makes me melancholic because it makes me question why DC can’t experience the same. 

Only time will tell if DC can keep this up because right now, they’re doing well overall but even if they ultimately never catch up, they can be proud of this one. 

Overall...

I love this film and its portrayal of an iconic character. They took an overused and overexposed character and somehow made him fresh again without taking away what made him so popular in the first place.

Todd Philips had a vision and he took it to a level that I didn’t think he was capable of. Joaquin Phoenix just absolutely killed with a performance that’s going to be remembered forever. 

As I write this review, talks of a sequel have already begun. I’m honestly not sure if they can do outdo themselves. My expectations will be even higher but they are most certainly welcome to exceed them again. 

[sprnklersplashes]

not beyond repair (8/?)

AO3

Veronica can’t deny her nerves as she pushes the gate of Westerberg High open on Monday morning. She hadn’t heard from JD for the rest of the weekend, a niggling voice in the back of her head telling her not to call him as she sat on her bed next to her phone, nervously picking at her nail, caught between giving him space and wanting him to know that he’s not alone. Apparently she picked the former and as she looks down at her destroyed nails on her right hand, she hopes she picked the right one. The yard is already alive with students, freshmen running around the place, one group using their backpack as a football, enjoying the rare late October sunshine before it’s gone completely, and inside is even more so. Despite the promise she and JD weaselled out of Kurt and Ram, she still pulls her coat a little tighter around herself as the hairs on her arms prick up. Even with their turned backs, she feels like everyone has their eyes on her, the word “slut” painted on her back in bright red. The irony of that image is not lost on her.

“Hey, Veronica,” the soft voice of her best friend greets next to her. Martha slides up to her, her brown hair pulled back in a braid and a gentle, excited smile that still warms Veronica’s heart on her face. There’s a gleam in her eyes too, the kind that promises exciting news.

“Hey,” Veronica replies, falling into step beside her.

“Did you hear?” Martha asks.

“Hear what?” she says, feeling slightly more cautious now. Kurt and Ram would never tell anyone-not even their dads, especially not their dads-about what she and JD did. Being a snitch is only slightly better than being a slut.

“Ram’s going around telling everything he and Kurt lied about the threeway,” she says, almost squealing in excitement. “That you didn’t do anything with them.”

“They are?” Veronica asks, looking around her. People don’t stop to talk to her, but no one did since before she was a Heather. No one is casting judgemental, disgusted glances at her, and there’s definitely no secret sniggering behind her back. She lets out a small laugh, feeling relief wash over her. “Thank god for that.”

“I knew it,” she says proudly. “I knew Ram would come through eventually. See, I told you he’s not so bad.” Veronica bites her tongue, smiling and nodding as Martha tells her about Ram’s so called ‘good heart’, listens politely as she tells her how his tough jock thing is an act he puts up for everyone, that he just wants people to like him. ‘If he wants people to like him, maybe he shouldn’t lie about who he’s slept with’ crosses Veronica’s mind, but she bites it back. She’s already broken Martha’s heart once. And besides, what she doesn’t know can’t hurt her. It’s hurting her, given how much she’s biting down on her tongue, but that’s not really important.

When she feels someone coming up behind her and the brief touch of a finger against her hand, she has to hold back the urge to sigh in relief, even though it comes with the tell-tale prickle of nerves down her back.

“Hey,” she greets, turning her head slightly to see JD beside her. To her comfort, he looks a lot calmer than he did on Saturday, his eyes clearer and his smile bright as he looks at her.

“Hey yourself,” he says gently. His head moves just a fraction of an inch-most likely to press a kiss to her forehead or maybe her lips if he was feeling bold enough- before he looks over at Martha, registering her friend’s presence. “Hi, Martha.”

“Hey,” she replies, toying with the ends of her braid. “How was your weekend? You two hung out right?”

“Yeah,” he answers, looking to Veronica for help. “We just uh-”

“Grabbed dinner,” Veronica finishes, covering for him. “Watched TV. Nothing exciting.”

“Oh, that’s cool,” Martha says. “Uh, JD I was just telling Veronica, Kurt and Ram are telling everyone that they lied about the threeway.”

“Oh are they now?” he says, a proud tone laced through his voice that only Veronica could know. She grins, lacing their hands together, their secret hanging between them. “I guess someone’s conscience finally caught up with them.”

“That’s what I was telling Veronica,” she adds. “Ram’s not that bad, really. I knew he’d come clean sooner or later.” Veronica feels JD stiffen beside her, doing his best to still seem interested, but he rubs his thumb on the back of Veronica’s hand. “He’s a good guy, really.”

“I…” JD begins, his voice strained as he searches for the right words to say. “Do not doubt that one bit.” Martha grins, lighting up her face and the hallway. “Come on, it’s getting a little crowded in here.” They get their books from their lockers (Veronica’s now mercifully clean and devoid of any insulting graffiti) and JD walks with them to their homeroom, easily and calmly diverting the conversation to their English class, or more specifically, his and Martha’s English class, and their study of Moby Dick.

“I mean I read it for the first time when I was 14,” he explains. “But it took me a few tries to get the symbolism down.”

“But you know so much about it,” Martha adds. “Veronica you should see him in class. You’re like a college kid in there.”

“Wonder if that’s why Ms Greene hates me so much,” he jokes.

“She doesn’t hate you,” Martha assures him.

“She doesn’t particularly like me,” he reminds her. Martha bites her lip; now it’s her turn to try to search for the right words. “It’s okay though. I don’t particularly like her.”

“She’s not so bad,” Martha says. “Just a little… traditional.”

“Wow,” JD breathes. “You don’t have a bad bone in your body, do you?”

“T-thanks,” she replies, her cheeks going slightly pink as they normally do when Martha gets a compliment from anyone who isn’t Veronica. She opens the door to their homeroom and the three walk in. “But anyway, I think she likes that you argue with her. And how you’re on her level. No one else in our class is.” JD doesn’t reply, but the small, proud smile on his face is more than enough answer for both of them.

If he did have an answer it dies away when they walk in and see Heather MacNamara sitting alone at her desk, without the other two Heathers with her. She looks painfully different without them, her slight frame standing out more when she’s not flanked by the other two, her shoulders slouching without Chandler’s silent reminders to keep them up, her eyes lost when she doesn’t have one of her two focal points. Those big brown eyes land on Veronica, her pearly white teeth biting her pink lip nervously. She’s not the only nervous one; Veronica feels her own stomach sink at the sight of her ex-friend, remembering how she stood behind Chandler as that awful rumour spread like wildfire throughout the school, attempting to ruin every part of Veronica’s already-fragile social life.

“Hi Veronica,” she says softly. JD’s hand wraps around Veronica’s as she tries to think of a response, if she should give one at all. Although she wouldn’t have admitted it, she nearly considered MacNamara a friend. Unlike Duke and Chandler, she at least always made an effort to smile at her, invite her to hang out without the other two, took time to explain the completely foreign world of makeup and parties to her. Up until two weeks ago, Veronica might have called her a friend.

“Hi,” she says warily, moving backwards into JD when MacNamara stands up, picking at her perfectly manicured nails. Good thing Chandler isn’t here; she would go ballistic (if anyone is capable of going ballistic at someone as innocent looking as MacNamara, it’s probably Heather Chandler, although Veronica wasn’t in their group long enough to see it).

“I heard what Kurt and Ram are saying,” she says. “That they lied about the rumour. They made it up.”

“Yeah, they did,” she says, suddenly defensive. MacNamara nods quickly, her head bobbing up and down, making her blonde hair shake.

“Well… um, good,” she stammers. “Maybe then everything goes back to normal?”

She thinks to ask what exactly she thinks normal is, but the question stays quiet on her tongue as she settles for looking her up and down, watching as she fidgets uncomfortably under her gaze. The tension in the air is so thick that Veronica feels like she’s being choked, the presences of JD and Martha behind her, plus his grip on her hand, being the only things keeping her from collapsing underneath it.

“Veronica,” MacNamara begins. “Look I just wanted to say-”

She supposes she’ll never know what Heather wanted to say, because the door swings open and Heather Chandler storms in, followed by a less authoritative, but still compelling in her own way, Heather Duke. Chandler’s resentful eyes land on Veronica, and now it’s her turn to squirm and shrink back even further, even with her own supports behind her.

“So I hear Kurt and Ram made that rumour up,” she says, her voice thin, rage simmering just below the surface like a volcano that’s overdue to explode. Veronica only nods. “Interesting.” She sits down at her own desk and Duke follows, her back turned away from Veronica. Within a few moments, MacNamara follows suit, making her message clear to Veronica; she chose her side. Even though she knows how silly it is, Veronica tries not to be hurt by it.

“Let it roll off your back, Ronnie,” JD says softly to her as she sits up on her desk. She takes his wrist and pulls him closer so that his legs are on either side of her.  Her goal isn’t necessarily to use him to block the Heathers out of her line of sight, but it certainly helps. She supposes that’s the plus side of having a tall boyfriend.

“I know,” she sighs, turning her hand over in his. “At least I’m back to just being a loser, instead of a loser and a slut.” She’s trying not to sound bitter, really trying, but it creeps into her voice anyway. Martha takes her free hand sympathetically and squeezes gently.

“You still have us,” she offers, glancing nervously at JD, but relaxing when he nods. Veronica chuckles, surrounded by the only two people she could ever see herself needing, in high school at least.

“Yeah, I do,” she agrees, smiling down at Martha.

The homeroom door swings open again and Veronica peeps over JD’s shoulder to see Miss Fleming entering, three heavy looking notebooks in her arms and a long green scarf trailing behind her. Veronica suppresses a groan and briefly rests her head on JD’s shoulder before bringing herself back up again. Fleming flies through the room before coming to a half at Veronica’s desk, taking in the sight of JD standing there, likely far too close to Veronica than she would like. Veronica bites the inside of her cheek to stop her from laughing as Fleming’s face slowly turns into a too tight smile.

“Jason isn’t it?” she asks, to which JD nods. “I don’t think this is your homeroom, is it?”

“You would be correct,” he replies coolly. Veronica grins as she feels a hush fall across the room, all eyes turning to the battle of words between JD and Fleming. Right now he’s a clear winner, Fleming’s grip tightening on her books so much that her knuckles turn white.

“Well maybe you should go to your own homeroom?” she suggests in a tight voice. JD’s mouth twitches up into a cheeky smile, one that hints at trouble but Veronica knows he has no intention of making any.

“Yes ma’am,” he says. He turns back to Veronica and gives her hand a tight squeeze. “I’ll see you later, darling.”

“Okay bye,” she replies softly. He bids Martha goodbye too before leaving, the proud smile remaining on his face as he walks out of the room, his coat blowing a little behind him. At Fleming’s disapproving look, Veronica slides off her desk and into her seat.

“You’re blushing,” Martha whispers, turning slightly in her seat. Veronica presses a hand to her cheek and sure enough, she finds it warm. Strangely, she finds that she doesn’t care, even if the entirety of her class has just watched her cheeks turning pink.  She half-listens to Flemings’ morning announcements while scribbling in her diary, doodling hearts and flowers in the margins as she goes, breathing coming easy to her after the painful few days she had last week.

Dear diary, she writes. So my reputation is back on track… what’s left of it anyway. Not like I’m expecting any apologies, from Kurt, Ram, or anyone else. Certainly not Heather Chandler. Most people still aren’t talking to me, but I kind of don’t really care anymore. Maybe because I’m used to it. Maybe because I have Martha and JD now.

JD seems better. It’s like if I hadn’t seen him on Saturday, I wouldn’t have known that he got a little…. Maybe freaked? He was happier today I guess. I guess whatever was bothering him got worked out. Or maybe I just remember it being worse than it was. Whatever it is, I just hope he stays that way.

She twirls her pen around her finger underneath her desk, her thoughts circling around in her brain like a train, glancing up at Mrs Fleming, at least giving the façade of paying attention, while also sneaking a look at the clock. Seeing how close it is to the end of homeroom, she puts her diary back in her bag with a resigned sigh, the feeling of all her innermost thoughts and secrets weighing heavily against her legs when she stands, the bag brushing against her. Still, as she makes her way to her first class, her boyfriend worries slip to the back of her mind for now, lying dormant under piles of homework and assignments and reminders of college applications and deciding on what to eat for lunch.

                                                                                               *****

The sound of the final bell on Friday is music to Veronica’s ears, as is the sound of chairs scraping and exciting conversations blossoming over the attempts of her teacher to remind them of their homework and promise to start the Civil War on Tuesday. She lifts her heavy bag onto her shoulder and hurries out, clutching her notebook and diary to her chest. She passes Heather Duke on the way out, wearing her seemingly permanent scowl. When she’s with the other two, at least Duke is balanced by Chandler’s steady confidence and MacNamara’s charms. She even adds to them in turn, completing their little trifecta. But on her own, she has never been quite as strong. Chandler alone can still make a grown man kneel, MacNamara can charm any boy she wants without the help of the other two, but Duke? When Duke is on her own, all Veronica can see is an angry little girl with not much else to her. She certainly doesn’t see someone that would make her palms sweat as she passes, yet she ends up wiping her hand on her skirt anyway.

“Weekend plans?” she asks bluntly, no fake politeness at all in her voice, unlike Heather Chandler. She toys with the edge of her hair, winding it around her finger, which she focuses on so intently that Veronica is half convinced she didn’t actually say anything.

“Maybe,” she replies flatly before she feels a slight boost in confidence inside her, a daring spark in her chest. “Why do you care?” She winces internally once the words leave her mouth, a heavy feeling in her stomach warning her that she’s going to regret this.

“I don’t,” she says, dropping her hair and turning her eyes to Veronica, her hand on her hip, her chest pushed out. A cruel smirk curls on her lips. “I’m just surprised people are still talking to you.”

“Well… they are,” Veronica says, her tone not as tough as she might like. Heather’s accusation feels like a slap across the face. “Guess I didn’t really need you three.”

“Oh, please,” Duke giggles. “You, Martha Dumptruck and your psychotic boyfriend? I’m sure that’s a laugh a minute.”

“Watch your mouth, Heather,” she tells her.

“What are you going to do about it?” she asks in return, stepping closer to Veronica. Veronica stumbles backwards involuntarily and hits her leg on a desk. Duke might be almost half her size, but Veronica quickly that doesn’t mean she can’t hold her own. She kicks herself for underestimating Duke.

“Isn’t Heather Chandler waiting for you somewhere?” she asks, slipping past the desk and away from Duke. Her comment only makes her frown more, Duke’s hand on her hip clenching, her fingers digging into the green blazer.

“Chandler doesn’t own me,” she spits.

“Sure she doesn’t,” Veronica says. “Bye Heather.”

Veronica hurries out of the classroom, her chest feeling significantly less tight as she steps out into the hallway. She still feels Duke’s eyes burning on the back of her like little lasers, getting more intense as she hears the sound of her heels ringing off the linoleum towards her. She swears she can feel Duke’s breath on the back of her neck.

“Heather!”

In one single fraction of a moment, it appears Veronica and Duke are united in something; they both jump a mile high. As Veronica tries to will her frantic heart to slow down, she turns to the sound of the voice that caused them such a shock, despite already knowing who it is. Even if she didn’t have such an unmistakable voice, there’s only one person who could ever cause that reaction from Duke. As she turns her head in attempt to look anywhere other than Chandler’s shark like eyes, Veronica notices the students around her slowing down or even having so little shame that they stop altogether and linger against walls-heads in books but ears pricked up, hoping for a juicy tidbit to tide them over until Monday. She isn’t all that surprised if she’s honest.

“Am I interrupting something?” Heather Chandler asks, her chin lifted up just a fraction, which is all she really needs to do. She raises her perfectly arched eyebrow, silently demanding an answer.

“No,” Heather Duke replies, tugging on her jacket. “Girl talk.”

“Then why are you keeping me waiting?” she asks sharply. Veronica isn’t sure if she imagines it when Duke winces, and something inside her turns and she wants to tell Heather Chandler to back off. It’s an odd feeling to say the least.

“Sorry Heather,” she says, heading over to Chandler’s side. She keeps her head up, her chest forward, but she strides over there quickly and her hands curl into fists at her side.

“Let’s go,” she orders, turning around, her plaid skirt fanning out around her and her blonde curls bouncing before landing immaculately in place. “MacNamara’s waiting for us in the parking lot.” The sound of their heels clicking on the floor becomes softer and softer, until they’ve faded entirely, leaving Veronica in the hallway with her fellow students surrounding her. Once the Heathers have left, the school returns to normality, freshman running down the hall, eager to escape and celebrate the weekend, conversations fading back in like a radio tuning into a station. Veronica runs a hand through her hair and lets out a long sigh, the air feeling lighter and freer now that they’re gone. She feels her cheeks burning and she knows why. A part of her hates this- the feeling that the Heathers will constantly be on her back, nipping at her heels, finding moments when she’s alone and biting at her right up until the day she graduates.

She runs down the main stairs and out the front door, pulling her scarf out of her bag and wrapping it around her neck as the autumn air leaves her shivering slightly. Red, orange and yellow leaves scatter across the concrete as she makes her way across the yard, towards the iron gate that led out onto the main road, where two days of freedom await her. Well, two days of freedom, with the occasional study and homework moments. But she can’t slow down, especially not with college applications on the horizon.

There’s a surprising sight as she makes her way across the yard; his back might be turned to her, but the trench coat and dark curls are instantly recognisable. As she approaches, she guesses by the way he’s hunched over he’s reading again, probably one of the three books she saw in his bag that morning. He breezes through them during class, having somehow perfected the art of reading a book hidden on his lap while pretending to be paying attention. She shouldn’t be impressed, but she is, even though she still manages to get on him for it.

“Boo!” she shouts, grabbing him by the shoulders.

“Shit, Ronnie,” he says as she giggles. He runs his hand through his hair, grinning, while the other hand marks his page. “Not cool.” She cackles and sits next to him on the wall, facing the opposite way from him, her feet trailing along the ground, and kisses his jaw playfully. He smiles against her and she hears him chuckle.

“What are you even doing here anyway?” she asks. “Aren’t you normally gone by now?”

“Aren’t you?”

“Yeah,” she sighs. “I should be. I just had a run-in with Heather Duke. It was nothing.”

“Did she say anything to you?” he asks, turning towards her so he can wrap his arm around her shoulders, his book forgotten.

“She said some things to me,” she says, drumming her heels on the wall. She runs her hand up her arm like she can wash Duke’s words away from her. “Nothing important. Just the usual bitch stuff. You know I never knew…” She waves her hand in the air as if she can conjure the end of her sentence by magic.

“Never knew….”

“That she could be so vicious,” she finishes.

“You didn’t?” JD asks, scrunching up his face slightly. “How long were you guys friends?”

“Okay, stop,” she says, lightly hitting him in the chest. “It’s not that I didn’t know… I just sort of thought she was Chandler’s lackey. Guess I never realised there was something lurking underneath that frown.” Lurking like a shark underneath the water. JD runs his finger up and down her arm, tickling her skin gently and getting her to giggle.

“You sure she didn’t say anything to you?”

“Nothing I haven’t heard before,” she tells him. When she sees his disheartened expressions, it’s her turn to comfort him, rubbing her thumb along his cheekbone. “Nothing I can’t handle on my own.” He nods, giving her a half smile and kissing the inside of her wrist. Veronica lets out a small breath, her heart picking up slightly at the touch of his lips on her wrist.

“You didn’t answer me,” she reminds him in a soft voice. “What are you still doing here?”

“Waiting for Claire,” he explains. He scoots closer to her so that their hips are touching.

“I thought you walk home.”

“I do,” he says, a cryptic smile playing on his face and his fingers toying with the ends of her hair. Normally she’d be bothered by something like that, but for him she’ll make an exception. “Only I’m not going home. I have an appointment out of town, and unfortunately I can’t drive myself there.”

“Oh,” Veronica replies. “Is everything okay?”

“Of course it is,” he replies, his fingers running off her hair and down her neck, stroking gently. “Just need to stay on top of things.” She nods, her concern not fading away with his comforting smile, rather a niggling worry clings to the back of her mind, poking at her despite him reassuring her. “Oh, speak of the devil.”

Veronica looks up and sees Claire’s little grey Ford pulling up onto the kerb outside. She honks her horn for good measure and JD responds with a tired wave. He slips his book into his backpack and pulls himself off the wall, Veronica not too far behind him.

“Want me to walk you to the car?” Veronica offers as their fingers brush.

“The chivalrous thing,” he replies with a grin, lacing their fingers together. “I’d be honoured.” Veronica laughs and he lets her lead him out the front gate and round to where Claire is parked, her glasses sitting on her head.

“Hi Veronica, how are you?” she asks politely.

“I’m great, thanks,” she replies.

“I’ll see you later,” JD offers, glancing briefly at Claire, who turns her attention to the opposite window, away from them. Veronica knows she isn’t imagining JD’s smile.

“See you later,” she agrees. She looks over at Claire too before looking back at JD, her pulse racing against his skin. They settle on a quick goodbye peck before he climbs into the car, saluting her with his finger as Claire puts the car into gear and waves before driving off, leaving a slightly breathless Veronica on the street by herself. She pushes her hair away from her face as she watches Claire’s car getting smaller and smaller along the road, driving along to whatever appointment he has. The one he remains deliberately cryptic about, hiding behind a coy smile and sparkling eyes, gentle fingers in her hair and soft kisses on her lips.

He’s told her it isn’t her job to worry about him. But she should get a pay raise anyway.

                                                                                               *****

“So how was school?” Claire asks over the sound of an old song playing on the radio.

“Fine,” JD responds, keeping his gaze fixed on the world outside the window. He imagines a little stick figure running along the path, keeping in time with the speed of the car, jumping over trash cans and swinging over pedestrian’s shoulders. It keeps his mind occupied and more importantly, his attention away from Claire.

“Don’t you have mid-terms coming up soon?” she asks casually.

“Yeah kind of,” he replies nonchalantly. He does, of course, there’s an essay due for American History and for English and he has quizzes coming up in biology and Spanish and social studies, and none of those books have ever really been opened outside of class, except for when he sits next to Veronica in study hall and they study together in whispered words and passed notes. Otherwise they sit in the back of his locker or the bottom of his bag until the night before it’s due in. He’s managed to pull off some minor miracles this way.

“Kind of?” she echoes with a soft chuckle. It dies quickly between them. JD imagines it hitting an invisible wall and sliding down sadly before writhing around on the bottom of the car amongst the dust balls and discarded popcorn bags. “Well if you want, we can go to that stationery store after your appointment. You can get some study cards, highlighters, the works.”

“My friend Martha uses a lot of them,” he laughs, more to himself than her. Of course, the word ‘friend’ makes her ears prick up, like she’s a puppy and he just said ‘walk’.

“Another friend?” she asks.

“Okay, technically she’s not my friend. She’s Veronica’s friend. I hang out with her.”

“But you like her?”

“I….” He looks back out the window. For a few weeks, him eating lunch with Veronica alone in their small, secluded garden, away from private eyes had been such bliss that no one else had really crossed his mind. His thoughts never really went to the future; just the next day’s lunchtime. Then when Veronica told him that she and Martha were friends again, it was a confusing experience for him, to put it mildly. Veronica’s happiness is his happiness, so of course he was never going to stand in the way of her being friends with Martha again, even though his mind had immediately jumped to the worst possible conclusion; once Martha came back, Veronica would have no need for him anymore, and he’d be left in the dust. Or they’d all try to form a little threesome, which would inevitably collapse under the unnecessary weight; JD himself. Then the more time he spent with Martha, the more his worries were chipped away, and the more he came to realise that maybe Martha could be more than just ‘his girlfriend’s friend’. Sure, when they were alone together they barely made it past small talk, but with Veronica boosting them along, the two somehow managed to get a relatively easy rapport between them. He’s not sure how he’s managed it, but he did, and that has to count for something. Not that he’ll confess that to Claire. “She’s okay, I guess.”

“Cool.” JD hides the inescapable smirk behind his hand, looking up at the sky as she pulls to a stop at a red light. He knows what she’s thinking and he doesn’t even need to look at her to do so. He knows that having one girlfriend and one sort-of, kind-of friend is a huge step up from his old schools. And that all that information sits in a heavy brown file in his social worker’s office, and in Claire’s desk drawers. There’s probably a page that just says “MAKE SURE HE MAKES FRIENDS” in big red marker. “So about the study thing… maybe after I pick you up we can go get you some school stuff? Or we can go tomorrow?”

“That’s okay,” he says, shifting in his seat. “I don’t really need anything.”

“Oh… okay,” she says softly. “I mean if you’re sure… You’ve got all the studying under control then?”

“Mm-hm.”

“Jason… you are hitting the books, right?”

“Did you just say, ‘hitting the books’?” he asks. “What year are you living in?”

“Don’t try to change the subject,” she warns. “Jason, I know from your last schools that sometimes… you tend to struggle. And I for one don’t want to sign another D on a quiz.”

“Then don’t sign it,” he snaps. He runs a hand through his hair and focuses his attention on a passing tree as Claire comes to stop at a red light. He keeps his eye on a particular red leaf that’s wiggling in the breeze, about five seconds from falling off the tree. Anything to not look at Claire and the stupid, wounded expression she no doubt has on her face, probably blinking her big green eyes behind those thick rimmed glasses of hers. JD shifts again in his seat, resting his chin on his fist. She’s completely quiet, and yet somehow that’s worse than when she was filling the silence in the car by chattering about school supplies and friends and his stupid grades.

Claire is a complete paradox; every day he grows more annoyed with her and somehow, less annoyed. He hates not knowing things, and not knowing Claire has been driving him crazy in the few weeks he’s lived with her.

“Um, yeah, maybe we could go get some school stuff,” he says in a small voice. “Maybe I’ll take a leaf out of Martha’s book.”

“Really?” she asks, sounding surprised. He doesn’t need to turn around to see the dumb smile on her face.

“Yeah. Only if I get to pay for it, though.”

“Jason, it’s school stuff, I can pay for it.”

“Yeah I know, that’s what the system pays you for,” he chuckles, biting his tongue the minute after he says it. He knows the drill in every single home; ever since he was 13 he’s known they all get paid to take care of him and keep him out of trouble. He doesn’t harbour any ill will. It’s business. In his mind, they probably deserve a raise. Still, Claire’s smile dips as he says it. “I can pay myself, it’s fine. I’ll be the one using them.”

“Okay. Cool.” Her voice is lighter this time, and JD finds that the air in the car is much lighter than before. He slides up in the seat, looking ahead onto the road at the red brick buildings and half-bare trees. His bag slides against his leg as Claire pulls out of the red light and turns a corner, his homework and barely opened textbooks seeming to tap against him like a child on their mother’s arm, asking to be opened and looked at for more than ten minutes at a time. Well maybe tonight he will.

As Claire pulls onto a familiar street, he presses his thumb into his palm as his mouth runs dry. He feels a familiar sensation in his stomach, like someone is pressing a ball down inside.

“You okay?” Claire asks, frowning as she parks the car.

“Of course I am,” he sighs. “I’m always okay.” He sounds convincing enough, except for the fact that instead of getting out of the car, he’s sitting there scratching his palm with his thumb nail. He heaves a sigh and looks out the front window. “Claire… just… don’t tell Veronica about this, okay?”

“I never would.”

“No, I know,” he says. “Just… I want to tell her. When it’s the right time, you know?”

“Yeah,” she says softly, nodding. “Don’t worry, kid. My lips are sealed. If you’re ever planning on bringing Veronica over again…”

“Gosh, get out of my dating life,” he sighs, getting out of the car and slinging his backpack over his shoulder. “I’ll see you later.”

“I’ll be here,” she replies. “And hey-want pizza for dinner?” She half-leans on the open car window, offering him a gentle smile. He chuckles, scratching behind his ear and looking down at the pavement.

“Yeah. Yeah pizza’s great.”

“Great. See you in an hour kid,” she says, rolling her window back up again.

“See you,” he says under his breath. As he turns around, he hears her engine starting up and then the sound of her car shifting off the sidewalk and onto the road, heading off for her to do God knows what for the next hour. His activity for the next hour stands before him in a red brick building that would look perfectly normal and unsuspicious on this street, if not for the engraved gold plaque on the door. He pulls on the strap on his backpack as he heads in, cautiously glancing around the street. It’s foolish to look; no one at school who cares enough would be in this part of town on a Friday afternoon, but still, the shameful idea of anyone knowing clings to him like a spider on his back. He turns the door handle and heads inside. Another great gift from his father.

Next time, he thinks bitterly, maybe his dad can give him a puppy.

                                                                                               *****

“Haven’t seen you in a while, Veronica,” Mrs Dunnstock comments as Veronica and Martha make their way into the living room, armed with sleeping bags and candy and the menu for the pizza take out place. Veronica bristles, faking a smile all the while her heart beats irregularly and uneasily underneath her blue blazer.

“Been busy,” she offers weakly. “Senior year.”

“Oh I know, it’s all work now,” Mrs Dunnstock agrees. “Still, it’s lovely to see you against Veronica.” She pauses, eyeing Veronica’s choice of clothes, and while she can’t be certain, she’s pretty sure it’s her skirt that’s catching her attention. Veronica’s hand moves to her hem and tries to pull it down. “Is that a new skirt?”

“Um, yeah,” she says. “I got it a while ago.”

“Oh… it’s very pretty,” she comments. Veronica nods in thanks and follows Martha into her living room, letting out a long sigh behind the closed door.

“You do look great in that outfit,” Martha offers, trying to smile, sitting cross-legged on the couch, her eyes flickering to Veronica’s legs as she pulls up her blue knee-length sock. “I’d never pull something like that off.”

“Yes, you could,” Veronica insists, sitting beside her on the couch and taking her hand. “I know you could.” Martha nods, but looks down at her body, her hand running over her stomach, and Veronica feels her heart tear in two. She reaches out and hugs her tightly, resting her head on Martha’s shoulder. None of the Heathers would cuddle with her, she realises with a smile as Martha’s arm comes around her body and holds her just as tightly.

“More of me to love,” Martha whispers. Veronica wonders if she’s talking to her or herself.

“Exactly,” Veronica agrees, rubbing her cheek against Martha’s shoulder. Martha opens up the pizza menu. “The usual?” By ‘the usual’, she of course means two medium pizzas, one plain veggie, and two cans of drinks.

“I don’t know,” Martha says. “I don’t really think I’ll eat anything. Just order for yourself.”

“What?” she asks. “You not hungry?”

“I don’t know.” Martha pulls on the hair tie around her wrist and Veronica hopes to God she’s imagining the shakiness in her voice.

“Martha Dunnstock,” Veronica says sternly, tilting her chin towards her and frowning in her best impression of Miss Fleming. “You’re not a great liar.” Martha avoids her eyes, wriggling her chin gently out of her grasp.

“I don’t know… I just thought maybe it was time to eat healthy, you know?”

Veronica’s heart stops in her chest. She knows exactly what ‘eating healthy’ is code for and she refuses to allow it. Not to Martha.

“Martha,” she sighs, turning onto her side, searching for the impossible words. “Martha… No.” She wants to tell her that she’s perfect the way she is, but she knows she’s just echoing Mrs Fleming’s empty statements from morning assembly, even if she actually means them, it will sound empty and meaningless to Martha. “You don’t need to do anything to yourself. Diet, work out, anything.”

“I just…” Martha begins. “Forget it.”

“Can’t,” Veronica teases, albeit with a steely tone underneath it. “You’ve implanted it in my brain.” She shoves her shoulder gently. “You can tell me anything.” Her fingertips caress Martha’s cheekbone and she pokes the side of her mouth up into a smile like she used to when they were little and they confessed to stealing cookies from the jar while sitting in the backyard.

“I want someone to look at me the way JD looks at you,” she confesses, avoiding her eyes with a guilty pout on her face. “You must to see the way he looks at you in school. He’s head over heels for you.”

“I…” Veronica’s voice trails off, a frustrated sigh escaping her mouth. “Martha… someone will look at you like that one day, I promise. Someone’s going to love every single part of you. Just like I do.” Martha smiles, brighter this time, her shoulders relaxing into Veronica’s embrace. “So are we ordering the usual?” Martha looks long and hard at the menu.

“Okay,” she says tentatively.  “As long as you’re eating some too.”

“Obviously,” she snorts.

Soon after they’re sitting with two pizza boxes spread out on their lap, their drinks and candy beside them and The Princess Bride on the TV. Veronica can’t help but notice Martha’s nervous eyes flickering to her every few minutes and hugs her a little tighter.

“Remind me to show this to JD,” she tells her. “Can you believe he’s never seen this movie?”

“Then he hasn’t lived!” Martha chuckles. “Don’t you think it’s kind of weird?”

“That he hasn’t seen The Princess Bride?” she asks. “I guess, but he told me he hasn’t watched Disney movies either, so…”

“No, that he’s here,” Martha explains. “That he ended up back in Westerberg. You know, that he left and then came back to you.”

“Back to me,” she repeats, her face turning pink. “I guess it’s a huge coincidence.”

“Kind of romantic,” she says, pointing to the TV screen, where Buttercup and Westley are reunited with Westley as the Dread Pirate Roberts. “Like this, you know?”

“Oh yeah,” Veronica says, a smile tugging on the corner of her lips. “Westley’s even dressed like JD.”

That gets Martha giggling, hiding behind one of her mother’s good pillows.

“I mean… he does kind of?”

“Think I could get him to wear one of those puffy shirts?” Veronica asks, beginning to cackle as well. “Just once, just to see what it would look like.”

“I mean, you should try,” Martha adds, still laughing. “Oh, you know what you should do? Get him to do it for Halloween.”

“Like a couples costume?” she asks. “Hmm, maybe he would be into that.” She bites into another slice of pizza, trying to keep her mind on the here and now, the laughing and the pizza and the movie and the smiles, and not on the niggling worry about JD and his mystery appointment, her climbing anxiety that he’s not telling her something, no, not anxiety, she knows that he’s not telling her something. She tries not to wonder if every couple has parts like this, if JD is going to be a puzzle for her to spend her days working out, or a cryptic message to decode when he’s not around. She always liked puzzles, and now she seems to have one of her own. She’s gone from knowing nothing to being thrown into the deep end. As she nuzzles into Martha and watches Princess Buttercup and Westley declare their love, she can feel herself blushing as she lets herself feel the thrill it gives her; the idea of being the one who figures him out, having him leaning on her.

All she can really know for sure about him is that Martha is right-JD should dress up as Westley for Halloween.

#jdronica #jdronica ff #heathers the musical #jason dean #veronica sawyer #the fic i hate myself for writing but i write it anyways

[marril96]

Single White Witch

Chapter 2: Defeated

Characters: Rowena, reader, OC

Pairing: Rowena x reader

Summary: When Rowena gets kidnapped by an unhinged witch, you enlist Sam’s help to rescue her.

Editor: @oswinthestrange

"What in hell are you doing?" Rowena demanded. She kept her face as blank as possible; she allowed anger to seep in, allowed it to twist her features, hoping to keep the fear that rattled in her bones at bay.

Martha had already kidnapped her and tied her up. She didn't get to see her scared.

The other witch flashed a smile that made Rowena's stomach turn, a smile that was supposed to be happy, friendly, but ended up resembling that of a maniac. Which wasn't that far from the truth. Martha was a maniac. No sane person did what she did, acted the way that she did. She was completely, utterly crazy, and her look reflected that.

"What's it look like I'm doing? I'm saving you!" she said, outraged at having to explain it, her southern accent thick in every word.

Rowena rolled her eyes. Of course she was saving her. Of bloody course!

"You're bloody mad!" she said, and instantly regretted it.

Martha looked at her with murder in her eyes, a glare so intense it burned right through her. "No, you're mad! You!" She pointed an accusatory finger at Rowena, shaking with rage, with anger that burned like fire inside her. Rowena flinched as if struck, and Martha sucked in a breath to calm down. "I'm sorry. I know it's not your fault."

No, it bloody wasn't! If she was tied to un uncomfortable bed she would be angry, too. Maybe Martha wasn't quite as crazy as she thought.

She took the thought back a whole second later when Martha added, "Y/N brainwashed you. You poor thing."

Rowena couldn't help it — she laughed, loud, hearty, a laughter so sweet she couldn't stop for a few moments. She was aware of Martha's delusions of you turning her against her, but this? This was comedy gold.

"See? She did that to you!" Martha accused.

"I can assure you, Y/N did no such thing. I can think for myself," Rowena told her. Her face turned serious, lightness dying out like the flip of a switch, features hardening like stone/stone. "And I think you're bloody mental!"

"Shut up!" Martha snapped, stomping her feet like a toddler. It would have looked ridiculous had she not been a heavyset woman in her forties with a mad look in her eyes.

An obsessed woman-child. Just what Rowena needed.

She had to get out of here. Had to get out of these restraints, this room, this house. Had to get away from this woman.

Staring straight at Martha, she exclaimed with utmost conviction, willing her magic to spring free, "Abi!"

Nothing happened.

There was no rush of energy inside her, no tingles that accompanied her spells. It was as if her magic was dead, gone, as if it had never been there. An empty feeling settled over her. It felt as if she were missing a limb, a vital part of her she wasn't sure she could live without — wasn't sure she wanted to live without.

"What did you do?" she hissed, threat clear in her tone. She shot Martha her deadliest glare, the one that made even demons cower in fear.

The witch flinched, but quickly regained her composure. "A little spell. Should wear off soon, don't worry."

As soon as it did, Rowena swore to make her pay. Nobody blocked her magic and got away with it.

"I'd never take your magic away. I know how much you love it."

"How noble of you," Rowena deadpanned.

"I know you don't believe me, but I really do care about you," Martha said in a tad softer voice. She was honest, genuine. As mad as she was, she meant every word. "I love you."

"I'm flattered," Rowena said sarcastically. She would've been flattered if someone else had said that to her. Someone less unhinged.

Martha ignored her remark. "These months without you were hell. I missed you so much!"

The feeling wasn't mutual.

"You have no idea what it was like."

"And I don't care," Rowena told her flatly. For all she cared, the woman could have offed herself. She didn't want to be around her. Didn't want anything to do with her.

She should have killed her the moment you'd shown her those obsessive Twitter posts about her.

The old Rowena would have killed her in the blink of an eye.

Redemption was a bitch.

"She turned you against me," Martha said sadly.

"For the last time, Y/N has done nothing!" Rowena snapped, having had enough of her nonsense. From day one, all you'd ever done was take care of her, protect her, love her. She wouldn't let some stalker smear your name. "I made the decision not to teach you. Not her. Me!"

"Why?" the other woman demanded petulantly.

"Because you're bloody obsessed!"

"All I ever wanted was to learn from you."

In that case, maybe you shouldn't have been creepy, Rowena thought bitterly.

"And you let her talk you into rejecting me," Martha said, prompting Rowena to roll her eyes. The woman's lack of self awareness was astonishing. "I know she did it! I know! I heard her!"

She'd heard you talk about a witch from her past, but no matter how many times you and Rowena had tried to explain it to her, she never listened. She was convinced you'd been badmouthing her. Rowena wouldn't have blamed you if you had. All you'd done, though, was show her Martha's Twitter profile. Rowena had made all decisions on her own.

Teaching Martha wouldn't have put only her at risk — it would have endangered you, too. She hadn't wanted to bring an unstable person around you.

As evidenced by today, she'd made the right choice.

"She wasn't—"

"Save it!" Martha cut her off. "I know what I heard!" She took a deep breath and flashed another smile. "But it's okay. I know it's just her influence. You'll see the light soon enough."

Rowena didn't like the sound of that. "What are you talking about?"

Grinning like the cat that got the cream, Martha held up a vial filled to the brim with liquid the rich color of roses, bright and red and strangely beautiful. Rowena stiffened. No. No, no, no. That wasn't what she thought it was. It couldn't be! Martha was psychotic, but would she go that far?

She would. She absolutely would. The realization sent a chill, cold and deadly and painful, straight through Rowena. It burrowed itself into her core like a parasite. Even though the room was relatively warm, she shivered.

She glanced over her bare arms and feet, and she suddenly felt exposed, naked, vulnerable. She had no magic. No means to escape, to defend herself. She was helpless.

"Martha—" she uttered, the word bitter on her tongue, cyanide killing her one breath at the time, one desperate, manic heartbeat.

"I assume you know what this is," the other witch said. There was a smugness in her tone, a lilt that was almost joyous. She cradled the vial in both hands, her thick, meaty fingers caressing the glass with utmost care, with devotion one would give an ailing human.

A love potion. Rowena could recognize it from a mile away by nothing but mere smell. She'd seen its effects on people. Seen the way it changed them into mindless zombies wanting nothing more than to be with, than to worship the object of their infatuation. Seen their sanity slipping away with every passing moment, the magic burning everything that made them them, that made them a person, away like acid. It was a despicable concoction, an abomination. It should not have been allowed to exist.

Rowena's thoughts shifted to you. To your smile every time you laid your eyes upon her, each as bright as the very first one. To your hands around her, holding her tight, giving her the safety she'd been missing for centuries. To you telling her you loved her every single day with nothing but utmost honesty, utmost conviction. To the cutesy nicknames you gave her that she pretended to hate, but secretly liked. To you taking care of her when she was injured, holding her after nightmares, soothing her every time a random memory of that day in May two years ago would pop up in her mind and bring her to tears.

She couldn't forget that. Couldn't throw it all away — throw you away — for a madwoman who saw her as nothing more than a possession, an object to be acquired. You loved her with all you had, and she loved you just as strongly. She didn't want false emotions to overwrite that.

"Don't you dare!" she hissed, trying to be threatening but coming off as nothing more than a powerless kitten.

"You're leaving me no other choice," Martha said. "She's got you under a spell, Rowena. This is the only way to snap you out of it."

Had the situation not been this dire, Rowena would have laughed. You, cursing her to fall in love with you? You apologized for accidentally wrapping a bandage a tad too tightly around a wee cut on her hand. The idea that you would brainwash her couldn't have been more ridiculous.

"You're even more unhinged than I thought," Rowena said.

"I'm doing this for you!" Martha said.

"No, you're doing it for you! Because you're mad!" Rowena snapped. "You bloody kidnapped me, woman!"

"To protect you!"

"To make me into a slave!"

Martha flinched as if struck. "Never," she said in a voice that was a tad too calm, a tad too tranquil for Rowena's liking. There was absolute conviction in her tone, a genuinity that came straight from the heart. It was what made her more dangerous than all those monsters — human and supernatural — Rowena had faced in her long lifetime. What made her more dangerous than the monster Rowena used to be. They knew what they were doing was wrong. They knew it, and they killed and destroyed and ruined because they didn't care.

Martha, on the other hand, was fully convinced she was in the right. Her actions made sense to her; they were justified, noble. In her mind, she wasn't a villain — she was a hero.

"I would never make you do anything you don't want to do," she said. Rowena snorted, and the other witch ignored it, adding, "I know what the potion does normally, but this is different. It's just gonna cancel out Y/N's spell, nothing else. I promise! It's gonna set you free."

"I'm not under a spell!" Rowena snarled for what seemed to be the millionth time. "I love Y/N because…" Because you'd given her a chance when everyone else had labelled her as yet another wicked witch. Because you dared become her first friend in centuries, and had allowed yourself to love her even when you knew she would have left you for dead if circumstances required it. Because you let her be herself, never once demanding she change. Because you taught her to love again, taught her that it was okay, that love was a strength rather than a weakness. "Because she respects my boundaries!"

Martha scoffed. "That's what she wants you to think."

Rowena rolled her eyes. "Believe me, she's not this mastermind you think she is." You'd never even looked at her wrong. The thought that you would harm her, that you would curse her into loving you was insane. "She doesn't have a wicked bone in her body." Her eyes connected with Martha's, the look in them cold, sharp as a knife. "For one, she's never kidnapped me."

Martha shook her head. "I told you—"

"It's for my own good. Aye, heard you the first time." Rowena laughed, and made it a point to let her know she was laughing at her. "What makes you think she cursed me? Is it me not wanting to teach you?"

Another snort, an undignified but awfully appropriate sound. Martha's face fell; she suddenly looked small, despite her massive size. A scared, tiny little girl. That was what she was. Nothing more and nothing less. Just a child who wanted a toy so desperately, she stole it, the consequences be damned.

"What makes you think I wanted to teach you?" Rowena continued.

Maybe antagonizing her captor wasn't the best idea, but what did she have to lose? She was helpless, powerless, about to be turned into a slave. About to be used and taken advantage of and raped by a mad woman-child convinced she was in love with her.

Rowena was sick of it. Sick of being toyed with, of being used and abused under the pretense of love, of kindness, of friendship. Fergus' father, Lucifer, all those people who pretended to care when all they ever wanted was to take advantage and leave her for dead. She was nothing to them, a mere pawn in their game, a toy to be discarded when they grew bored of her.

She was done sucking up, done playing nice in hopes of receiving mercy. She deserved better. You deserved better.

If she ever got a chance to see you again, she wanted you to know that she fought for the both of you. That she didn't give in. That she kicked and screamed and gave it her best. Even if she ended up defeated, she wanted you to know that she at the very least tried.

You would have done the same for her.

You'd sacrificed so much for her. So many nights you'd spent holding her instead of sleeping, soothing her after yet another in a string of nightmares. So many bright, sunny days wasted taking care of her when you could have been having the time of your life. So many opportunities you'd turned down for the sole reason of staying with her, of having her back.

"I admit, I was flattered by your compliments. But other than that, what did you have to offer?"

Martha glanced up at her for a short moment, and Rowena raised her eyebrows, prompting her to answer. Daring her to say something, to give her more ammunition to fire at her. She was all out of patience for the woman's nonsense.

She smiled at her silence. "That's right. Nothing. You're a mediocre witch, Martha. I was going to turn you away within ten minutes of meeting you, but it was Y/N who told me to give you a chance. She thought you had potential."

"You're lying!" Martha snarled.

"I'm not."

She was. She did consider Martha a decent witch, and the decision to teach her was all her own. But this wasn't about the truth — this was about control, about power. Very soon, Martha was going to take hers away. Rowena wanted to hurt her before that happened, wanted to leave her mark. If she was going to be a slave, then the other woman would suffer. It was a fair trade.

"You are a horrible witch, and an even worse person," she continued. "We could have been friends if you weren't so obsessed. It was your abhorrent behavior that drove me away. Not Y/N. Not some spell. You."

Martha shook her head. "No."

"Yes." Rowena kept her stare on her, kept her tone just as pointed, just as cold as the look in her emerald eyes. All business, no play. As serious as death. "You can shove that potion down my throat, but the truth is, I will never love you. It will never be real."

She was quiet for a moment, and when she spoke next, it was ice, straight from her soul.

"As a matter of fact, I loathe you. You make me sick."

"Shut up!" Martha snapped, stomping her feet like a spoilt brat being denied an expensive toy. Her hands clasped over her ears, head shaking madly, left, right, left, right, a frantic, never ending loop. "Shut up, shut up, shut up!"

Rowena watched her, amused. Just as she thought. A brat. A middle-aged, tantrum-throwing toddler. A baby in the body of a forty-five-year-old woman. That wanted her to love her? That thought you'd cursed and somehow persuaded her to cut her off? Rowena would rather off herself than ever willingly fall in love with a person like that.

"You're wrong! You're broken!" Martha ranted. Potion clutched tight in her hand, she stalked over to Rowena's bedside. "I'll fix you!"

Rowena gulped. Nervousness settled over her, but she pushed it down, willed her features to appear neutral. She wouldn't lose her composure. Not now. "Get away from me!"

"I'll fix you, and then you'll love me!"

Martha's hand fell on Rowena's chest, right over her breasts. Rowena shuddered, a wave of nausea roiling in her stomach. She didn't want her to touch her, didn't want her disgusting hands (or any other part of her body, for that matter) anywhere near her.

Thick fingers curled around her left breast, feeling it, caressing it almost gently. "You're mine," Martha said, and squeezed her breast in emphasis. "She can't have you anymore."

Swallowing a lump that had formed in her throat, Rowena spat, "I will never be yours." She made sure to pour as much venom in her words as possible. She hated her, loathed her, despised her with her entire being, and she wanted her to know it. She wanted her to feel it. "It will always be Y/N. Always. Even if you make me think I love you, Y/N will be the one I actually love. No amount of potions or spells will change that."

"We'll see," Martha said. She raised up the potion and looked it over lovingly. "You'll come to your senses soon enough, Rowena. You'll regret those words."

"I will die before I do," Rowena told her.

"Let's see, shall we?"

Slowly, with utmost care, Martha uncapped the vial. A sweet, rosy smell filled Rowena's nostrils. Panic filled her veins like poison, took her over, overwhelmed her. Her hands closed into tight fists, toes curled, teeth snapped shut. She wouldn't drink that potion. She wouldn't. Martha couldn't make her.

One look into the madwoman's eyes told her she absolutely could — and would.

No. Rowena shook her head, once, twice, three times. No. There had to be something else to do, something to get her out of this. She hadn't fought so hard her entire life to be enslaved by a lowly witch. She'd survived The Men of Letters, The Grand Coven, and Lucifer. She'd suffered, but she'd survived. And she could survive Martha Morgan.

But how? How could she defend herself? She had no magic. Her hands and feet were bound, the rest of her body useless. She had her mouth, but what good would that do? It had gotten her into enough trouble as it was.

Y/N, please! she begged. Please help me. Tears prickled at her eyes, but she willed them to stay back. She wouldn't give Martha the satisfaction of seeing her cry.

Were you aware she was gone? Had you noticed? If you had, were you on your way to save her?

Please!

Rowena hated relying on others, even you, but it was the only thing she had left. She couldn't get out of this on her own. She needed help. She needed you. Needed you to burst in and Abi Martha out the window. Needed you to wrap your arms around her and tell her everything was okay, that she was safe, that the worst had passed. Needed you to tell her you loved her.

Needed you to be her hero, for she was too weak, too bloody useless to be her own.

"Martha—"

"Shh," Martha said. "Just relax, dear. One sip, and everything's gonna be okay."

Just as the words left her mouth, a loud, squeaking sound thundered from somewhere in the house.

Martha snarled, mad as a fury.

And Rowena's eyes lit up with hope.

Tags: @werewolfbarbie @oswinthestrange @songofthecagedmoose @apurdyfulmind @getthesalt-sam @metallihca @salembitchtrials @jay-eris @hellsmother @elizabeth-effie @victoriasagittariablack @rowenaswife @dropsofpetrichor @xfireandsin @liddell-alien @hotdiggitydammit @thai-inette @darkhumorsblog @wayward-kaia @angel7376 @rowenaisfabulous @ruthieconnells @evil-regal-vampiress @collectorofsecretsandsouls @angel-e-v-a

#rowena #rowena macleod #rowena x reader #spn #supernatural #fanfiction #my fics #spn family

[kimvvantae]

Umbra; 7

➜   being ruled by an ancient commandment, your sole purpose is to serve. you were born to protect the king with your life, tied by an everlasting oath; you are nothing but a shadow, a silent and insignificant being. he appears to you like the sun, the warmest and brightest star in the sky, and gives you a chance to live. it is then that your entire universe starts to orbit around this sun, and you decide that you are truly willing to die for him.

pairing: King!Taehyung x (f) hybrid!reader

genre: royalty au, fantasy, angst  

warnings: descriptions of violence, blood and death that might be triggering.

word count: 11k  oOF

A/N: gOSH this chapter is a beast. i’m sorry y’all but i couldn’t hold back this time klaskdlsd after reading, y’all are cordially invited to the tea party in my askbox, where we can drink tea, eat cookies and discuss about this week’s chapter. what are your thoughts on it? what’s your favorite part so far? we can talk about anything, just stop by!

enjoy uwu

➜  Chapters: check up marterlist in bio!

“Chuu? I’m here,” I said, patting her shoulder softly.  

The girl groaned, but didn’t open her eyes. I looked back at Yoongi who was standing by the door with crossed arms, a shadow of concern over his features.

“What did the healer say?”, I asked.

“Infection. You know she gets sick easily,” Yoongi said, voice quiet and husky. “But she’s getting better. The fever ceased and she stopped vomiting. The medicine is working.”

I sighed and looked back at the sleeping girl. Chuu always had a fragile health because of her poor conditions when an infant. It was almost a common happening to see her like this, however it did not make us any less concerned. 

The moment I stepped inside the palace after so many weeks, I immediately found Yoongi and he told me about her condition. I “vanished” from my superior’s sight before they could give me any task and ran to visit her on her quarters. Fortunately, her state wasn’t as bad as the last time she fell sick. I’ve never been so frightened to lose her as I was that time.

Of course, a guardian is not supposed to feel anything over the death of others. But I just couldn’t bring myself to be so cold anymore.

As I was about to ask something, we heard someone entering the room, what made Yoongi slightly startled.

It was Martha.  

I frowned, looking at the chief of the servants. What was she doing this late at night?

She crossed her arms and stared at Chuu with a censoring gaze. "Is she awake?"

"No. Isn't it obvious?", Yoongi replied, glaring at the woman in front of him, anger taking over already. It always amazed me how he could be so blatant towards his superiors.

"I'm getting tired of your insolence, Yoongi! Perhaps you want to pass some days without any food?!" Martha snapped, eyeing him angrily.

"There's no need to scream. I'm right in front of you," I knew Martha hated when he sounded so unaffected by her, and Yoongi never missed a chance to do it. He never kept his head down.

I used to think it was a bad, stupid behavior. Now, I could just think of how brave he was.

Martha rolled her eyes and huffed. "I did not come here to argue with you. Instead, I want to make clear that, sick or not, that girl has to be up in the kitchen at five. Vanaheim's Royal Entourage will be here in a few days and I can't lose any staff. I won't let anyone have a break simply because of a flu or whatever. Understood?"

Yoongi tightened his jaw, gripped the sleeves of his shirt. If looks could kill, Martha would have fallen dead right there.  

"Understood." He said between gritted teeth.

Martha nodded and looked back at Chuu one last time, disgust on her features. And I felt disgusted by her. How could she look at Chuu that way? A lovely, hardworking young girl? Couldn't she see how sick she was?  

"This girl is bringing me problems ever since she arrived. I always say that we must never buy useless slaves..." she murmured to herself, clicked her tongue and turned around, leaving the room.

Anger took over me.

A small, quiet and evil voice whispered in my head... it would be so easy to hurt her... humans are fragile, tiny creatures. It would be so easy to punish her, teach her a lesson...

"Y/N? I'm talking to you."

I blinked and looked up at Yoongi, that stared at me with confusion.

"What?"

"We should let her rest for now. Hopefully she'll be feeling better tomorrow morning," he said, sighing. I nodded and got up from my sitting position near the bed, looking down at Chuu. She seemed peaceful at least. I adjusted her blankets and followed Yoongi out of her quarter.

We had much to talk.

"You look different."

I frowned. "What?"

Yoongi was still staring at me, all the weight of his body sustained on his hands. The nightly breeze played with his dark locks; his skin could be compared with porcelain under the moonlight. "I don't know. You just... look different."

I frowned and took the tip of my braid between my fingers. "I didn't even cut my hair..." Not that it was relevant, since my hair was always braided because of my conduct code. Yoongi shook his head.

"I'm not talking about appearance. It's just that... I don't know, your posture changed."

I still stared at him, utterly confused. We hadn't talked much for the past minutes, a peaceful silence reigning above us instead as we watched the night sky. It was a habit of us since we were children: sit on the roof of the servants' quarters and talk. Yoongi is a cat so he barely sleeps at night and enjoys high places naturally; I just learned to like this activity because of him.

I enjoyed Yoongi's company. He was a rather quiet man and I was even quieter, however our time spent together was never unpleasant. If Chuu wasn't with us we'd barely communicate at all.  

I liked it. The silence has been my friend since my birth. With Yoongi, I felt that I did not have to think too much or act perfectly aligned. I could just breathe and have someone's company.

"I still did not understand," I confessed, what made Yoongi ruffle his hair, thoughtful expression.

"You looked angry down there with Martha." He said. "I don't know if you're aware of it, but you barely ever show any emotion at all. You look like a doll all the time. And no, this is not a compliment: stiff and emotionless. So, seeing you show anger was... shocking."

I nodded. Another thing that I admired about Yoongi: he was straightforward. He did not adorn his words or tried to make them less harsh. His brutal honesty was what I needed sometimes.

Yoongi knew me very well, so it was understandable that he could notice I have changed, however it still surprised me. Was it that obvious?

"Did something happen during your travel?" He asked, narrowing his eyes.

Yes, Yoongi definitely knew me very well.  

I pushed my legs near my chest and hugged them, resting my chin atop my knees. Instead of answering, I stared ahead in silence. Yes, many things happened during my travel. Things like interacting with other people freely, something that was completely foreign to me. Things like being "normal" for some moments, even though it was just pretending. Things like feeling freedom for the first time in my life - something absolutely denied to a dragon hybrid.

Things like Taehyung.

And also that gnawing, stinging sensation within my chest...

I needed someone to lighten me up. And this person would be Yoongi.

"Why do you hate humans so much?" I asked suddenly.

He groaned and rolled his eyes, annoyance shadowing his features immediately. "Y/N, please, if you're about to censure me again I'll leave..."

"No! You didn't understand," I said promptly, waving my hands. "I don't want to argue with you, Yoongi. I want to understand you."

The catman stared at me with mouth ajar, eyes narrowed.  

"Did you hit your head somewhere?"  

It was my time to roll my eyes. "Yoongi, please. This is important."

He still stared at me, looking suspicious, surprised and incredulous, all at once. I could understand why. Never did I make such question; I always said he was wrong, he should not hate humans, he should respect his superiors even when he was right, he should obey and obey and obey.

But Yoongi was right: I have changed.

I wanted to understand him. Of course, for a hybrid to hate a human wasn't a hard task, but I wanted to understand his motives. I wanted to know what my closest friend thought, because I never gave him the chance to explain himself and I never gave myself the chance to listen to him.

Yoongi went quiet for several moments. He stared ahead, adjusted his posture. "Honestly, the question should be how can someone not hate humans," he said.

I watched him in silence, eager to absorb everything he had to say. I knew Yoongi is not the kind to express himself easily, so it would probably take time.  

His eyes darkened. It was as if his shoulders weighted. I saw something on his gaze very similar to what I saw in Mrs. Dayo's eyes that day...

"I don't know my parents," he started quietly, voice deep and husky. "I barely remember anything about them. Just like Chuu, I was very young when they sold me to this... particular rich woman."

I knew he had reached a sensitive area. He passed his hand through his dark hair, inhaled softly.  

"Food in her house was great. I could eat anything I wanted. My room was big and comfortable. She bought me fine clothes and presents almost every day." Yoongi sighed and looked ahead. "She said she loved me. And I... I loved her, too. How couldn't I when she treated me so well?"

My chest tightened at each word of his, because I saw how Yoongi became smaller at each word. I have never seen him look... fragile.

"But then, as I grew up... I started to notice things weren't so perfect. Why didn't she let me play with other kids outside? Why did I have to stay inside the mansion all day? Why when she invited people to her house she introduced me as if I was some kind of exhibition? Why did she make me-"

Yoongi gasped at his own words.  

My fists tightened. He massaged his own forehead, looked down at his legs. I could feel that his each word felt like spikes within him. I hated seeing him in that situation.

"That's when I finally realized. I was her pet." He let a humorless, hurtful chuckle past his lips. "I was just one if her possessions. She didn't see me as her equal. She said she loved me, but if she did, why would she make me walk around with a choker on my neck? Why would she make those things to me?" He exhaled weakly and whispered: "I was just a boy."

I gulped, my heart so tight it hurt. Of course, I had an idea of what Yoongi went through on his past, however he never said it out loud – and he didn’t even need to finish. I could fathom the things the woman made him do...  

This explained so much about him.  

And again – there was that small voice in the back of my mind whispering, you went through similar things in your childhood...

“And why is that?”, he continued, a newborn anger growing on his voice – the anger I always heard when he touched this subject. “What gave her the right to own me like that? She had money, but it didn’t matter; she wasn’t better than me. She couldn’t tell me what to do. That’s why I ran away. My life has been miserable ever since, and I still despise myself for having no other choice but to work for humans here, but I am aware that it is the best chance I’ll have for now. I’d rather face Martha or other superiors every day than go back to that woman that treated me like a toy.”

“Freedom in a sewer is still better than slavery within a golden cage,” Mrs. Dayo’s words echoed in my ears.

“And it angers me. Why us hybrids are doomed for a miserable life since birth? What wrong did we do?” Yoongi crossed his arms, face frowned. I could see his hatred, his resignation, his revolt. “Why humans think they are superior? We are biologically different, but it doesn’t mean we’re animals. We have needs, we have desires, we have feelings. And no, I don’t care about the elves!” he looked at me as if I would interrupt him, however I just wanted to hear. “It’s been millennia since an elf stepped foot on Earth. I don’t know where they are now, I don’t know what happened and maybe I’m wrong, but if they cared about what happens here they wouldn’t have disappeared, so they have no right to tell us how things should be now. And it includes you.”

Yoongi stared at me seriously. There was still anger on his eyes, however I saw something underneath it... concern.

“I’ll never forget the day we met. You had a fucking poisoned arrow buried on your shoulder, Y/N. Did your master care about it?” He scoffed and shook his head slightly. “I don’t care if you truly believe that the elves ‘determined’ that your race should exist to protect kings. And even if it’s true, then they’re just pure evil. You were a kid. I know you’ve been through worse than me. But still, you’re so... submissive.”

I avoided his gaze, feeling somehow exposed by his speech. “This is not about me...”

“Yes, it is. It is about us. It is about en entire race.” Yoongi stared ahead, his gaze far away. “I’m always arguing with you about it because I want you to understand. Because I know you’re not the only one. How many hybrids think the same way as you? They simply accept their condition without saying a word. They’re slaves; just because their ‘owners’ treat them with minimal care they think they’re blessed, but they are still slaves. I could have anything I wanted from that woman, live a comfortable life; but I was still a slave. This is not our fate. This is not right. And it doesn’t matter how many years pass, even if I die being just a miserable man, even if I’m not able to change anything, I will never accept it. I won’t accept human’s crumbs. I want everything. I deserve everything.”

We fell in a deep, solemn silence.

It was almost hard to breathe. I knew Yoongi was a rebellious person, however I’ve never seen him speaking this way... with so much feeling.  

After everything I saw these past months, I could not ignore what he said. I could not ignore that flame inside of me, which just became stronger after I heard his words – as if my confused thoughts finally settled in a complete piece.

A part of me struggled. You are a dragon hybrid; you are a guardian. You exist to serve, to obey; this is the role the elves gave you, and you should feel honored. Hoseok’s voice echoed in my mind: “nothing is above honor.”

But then – there was that second voice, too. That second voice that was born the moment I accepted Taehyung’s offer, the moment I made a choice for the first time in my life, the moment someone offered me freedom for the first time:

Yoongi is right.

I shouldn’t. It was wrong. It went against everything I’ve ever done or learned my entire life...

But I agreed with him.

The whole Capital was at frenzy.

Vanaheim's Royal Entourage would arrive in a few days, so everyone - may it be at the palace or at the city overall - wanted nothing but perfection for their arrival. Squares were being decorated, streets impeccably cleaned, gardens reorganized; at the palace the work was just as hard, servants working with no rest to make every corner of the building pristinely clean and beautiful.

Vanaheim was Ëlv'en's greatest ally and one of the biggest and most powerful kingdoms of the continent. Placed at the Coast, they were well-known for the exportation of seafood, pearls, and their great navy, which possessed hundreds of ships both for war and exploration on their fleet. Rumors said that not even mermaids were brave enough to face Vanaheim's navy.  

Ëlv'en and Vanaheim held good relationships since the Five Great Kingdoms were stablished millennia ago. They had been partners not only in commercial accords but wars as well. That is why every ruler had to be very careful to keep this relationship working well. It reflected in why King Satoshi was coming himself to meet Taehyung, and not sending a representative in behalf of him.

Taehyung has been impossibly busy ever since the moment he stepped foot at the Capital again, working to make sure that the King's stay would be perfect. Since he wasn't meeting any foreign at the moment and staying inside the palace all the time, there was no need to follow him everywhere, however I saw him being followed by assistants and counselors all the time. When Taehyung wasn't inside his office working, he was resting on his royal quarters.

It was odd (and stupid), but the fact that we could barely talk made a hollowness set inside of me. I should not be feeling this way. I should be his shadow; quiet and imperceptible. I should not seek for his attention...

But I couldn't say I did not miss our secret expeditions, when I could pretend for a few hours that we did not have this insurmountable wall between us.

The fact is: I was deeply, utterly confused. Confusion was something I was not used to; my life has always been like a river floating peacefully in a single direction. Now, it felt like the angry sea under a storm.

Yoongi's words did not leave my mind. Why I always thought that he was wrong? It's not as if I had no idea hybrids where badly treated before. I didn't know so many hybrid villages existed before the expeditions with Taehyung, however I always knew most of them were slaves. I am a hybrid after all.

It felt as if I was blind all along; as if I was deaf, until someone finally took what was obstructing my ears and I was able to hear for the first time.

And what I heard were screams of pain and hatred. Voices yelling desperately to be heard...

Voices yelling for justice.

Why never did I hear them before?

And apparently, I was so out of my senses that I couldn't even hear literally, because it took me several moments to notice there was someone calling my name.

I turned around in the courtyard and saw Jungkook waving to me.

I walked towards the rabbit-boy. He looked physically way better than when we first met him – Jungkook had gained weight, his skin had a healthy color again, and he even cut his ebony hair, since when we met him his hair was long and horribly dirty. He still walked with a limp, but his injury was almost healed and he could do almost any task again – what he was doing at the moment, carrying some wooden crates towards the kitchen.

Instead of just letting him go, Taehyung decided that he still needed medical assistance and kept the young man with the Entourage. Jungkook barely interacted with anyone else, actually. Whenever Taehyung came around him, he would just nod and reply with monosyllabic sentences.  

He interacted with me, though.

It was odd, however I noticed that Jungkook felt somehow comfortable around be. Perhaps because I was one of the few females within the Entourage, perhaps because we were around the same age – I did not understand why, but he was slightly less stiff with me.

Just slightly.

I was the one who convinced him to come back with us and work at the palace. I knew they always needed manpower, and his good physique would be highly appreciated. As always, working at the palace wasn’t the best, but was also far from being the worst – and Jungkook surely knew the worst. He could work there for a while until he found out exactly what he wanted to do. Being honest, I didn’t even expect he would actually listen to me.

Of course, being a guardian, I shouldn’t have done what I did. But I’ve been doing a lot of things I shouldn’t lately, so I thought that one more thing wouldn’t hurt.

“Hello, Jungkook,” I greeted politely. “Are you getting used to the palace’s routine?”

The rabbit-boy cleaned his forehead with the back of his hand. “Perhaps. It’s not that bad.” He shrugged. “Is that woman Martha always so annoying?”

“She is worse,” I said honestly, what made Jungkook tilt his head – a very frequent habit of his, I could tell.

He exhaled and put his hands on each side of his waist, looking around. “Food is good here. The other servants are quite welcoming. I have more freedom than I had in my past work. I think having a bed is way better than sleeping on the ground. And, well... I like the fact that they call me servant and not slave.” he admitted. “Maybe you were right.”

“I’m happy to hear this,” I said, nodding.

“I am still a slave, though,” he murmured.

There it was again. That aggressiveness inside of him, a caged fire waiting for the right time to explode. I couldn’t judge him – not after what he suffered. I didn’t know what to say to ease his feelings. And honestly, I don’t think there was anything that could ease them at all.

“I can understand how you feel-” I started, only to be interrupted by his huff.

“No, you can’t understand me, Y/N. You’re a human, how could you understand?”

I stood there dazed for some seconds. Oh. Jungkook still did not know my true nature...  

“I am not a human, Jungkook.” I said quietly.

The rabbit-boy scoffed yet again, quirking one eyebrow. “And what are you, then? A dog?”

Instead of replying his quite unpolite sentence, I just stared deep within his eyes in silence.

Jungkook still had that mocking demeanor for some moments. Then, slowly, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion as he stared back at me.

From confusion, pure shock.

His eyes widened. He stepped behind. His breath got caught on his throat.

“You are... y-you are...” he stuttered weakly.  

I just nodded once.

Jungkook let a shaky exhale, passed his hand through his hair. “I-I would never have noticed if you didn’t tell me... dragon,” he whispered the last word weakly.

“Yes. Believe me, I understand how you feel-”

“You are a dragon hybrid,” Jungkook repeated as if he hadn’t heard me at all.

Then, I saw a reaction I was definitely not expecting.

His big round eyes shining in pure amazement. His lips lifted up in a smile. He measured me from head to toe as if seeing me for the first time.  

Why did he look amazed? The only person I saw showing a similar reaction was Taehyung, but with Jungkook it was much more intense.

“This is why I felt something about you- something I couldn’t understand back then-” Jungkook continued, his maniac grin only growing. “A dragon hybrid! How can you camouflage yourself so well between humans? Why are you covering your own presence? Now that you told me I can feel it- It’s like- it's like a noise so constant you get used to it and don’t even notice it until someone points out, and now that you pointed out... I can feel your power!”

I watched him, completely confused, as Jungkook mumbled his nonsense.  

What?

“Of course I have to cover my presence. I am the guardian of the King,” I said, eyeing him.

And with a single sentence, all the amazement vanished from Jungkook's eyes, being replaced by shock...

And outrage.

"The King's guardian?", he crossed his arms over his toned chest, narrowing his eyes. "Why do you serve them?"

"You know why," I said, now even more confused. "It was the role the elves gave my species."  

However, after hearing Yoongi's words, after everything I went through for the past two months, even I thought my words sounded empty. I did not pronounce them with the same intent, with the same pride I used to pronounce.

It was just an excuse.  

I didn't even know if it was right anymore.

Jungkook rolled his eyes - eyes that just a few seconds ago looked at me with astonishment, now looked at me judgingly. "You are a dragon. How can you accept this situation? How can you willingly let them tame you? These... these humans?"  

"You don't understand, Jungkook. I chose to be here. I chose to protect the King," I said, tightening my fists. Who this boy thought he was to judge me like that? He didn't know me.  

"Why do you let them treat you like that?" Jungkook continued, once again, as if he hadn't heard me. "I saw that man slapping your face at the inn, one day before we came to the Capital."

I almost gasped.  

"He is my superior..." I said weakly.

"And?" Jungkook shook his head in disbelief. "I can't believe it. You are- your race is the most powerful in existence, and you still let these humans treat you like this? You let them treat you like a slave? You submissively let them do it to you?"  

I could only stare at him.

I did not know what to say.

Jungkook shook his head again.

"My parents always told me about dragons. They said you were mighty and powerful. But now what I see is just disappointing."

Once again, I was confused. Why would his parents even tell him something about dragon hybrids in the first place? "And what did you expect of me?"

"Certainly not this." He stepped forward, suddenly lowering his voice. I could see the fiery anger burning within his eyes, within his soul. "You know very well how our race is suffering not only here, but through the entire continent. You know we are enslaved and treated like animals. However, you do nothing. Most of us can't fight against them, but you can. And you do nothing! You accept this situation, you agree with it. You let us rot and die."

"What?" I stared at him in disbelief. "Are you even hearing yourself? How can you blame me? This is not my fault!"

"If you have the power to change it yet you chose to do nothing, then yes, it is your fault!" Jungkook stormed, making me look at him in utter shock. "You prefer to serve a human, a man from a lineage of murderers, instead of helping the ones of your own race!"

"You are wrong." I immediately stepped forward, rage suddenly taking over me. I saw regret and fear passing through Jungkook's eyes for a moment, as if he realized he shouldn't have gone this far. I did not care if he offended me, but I wouldn't let him say such things about Taehyung. "His Majesty is not a murderer. You should know it. If it wasn't for him, you would be dead by now; he saved you. His Majesty is good."

Jungkook stared at me for some moments. I saw his anger calming down a little, but not disappearing. The flame was still there, burning him inside out.

"If he is good," Jungkook started, his voice quieter yet spiteful, "Then why did he make you his slave?"

"I am not his slave-" I tried to say.

"Can you quit your job?" He interrupted me. "Can you tell him you want to leave? Can you go anywhere without his or other superior's consent? Can you live a life of your own?" I slowly closed my mouth. I didn't know what to say. "We both know the answer is no. This is called slavery. You are just like me; you are a slave." He stepped closer to me, lowering his voice even more. "He might do some good things, like what he did to me. But he will never understand us or know what we feel. He is the most privileged one, why would he want to change anything? It might look like he will change things, but he does it to keep his good popularity. He is young, he is charismatic, people believe him easily. This is what the Kim Dynasty has been doing since the beginning. And if you don't believe me, then see things by yourself. You know him more than I do after all."

I hated it. I hated not knowing what to say. I hated not having an answer. I hated it that I could not defend my master.

I hated it that he managed to put this question inside of me.

Because something started to bother me terribly from the moment he pronounced these words.

"If she loved me so much, why would she make me walk around with a choker?", I heard Yoongi's voice saying quietly in my mind.

I carried something similar around my neck, too.

My medallion. One of the only five in existence. Five Great Kingdoms, five great guardians. The symbols that pointed me as Ëlv'en's Royal Guardian; symbols of loyalty and submission...

It was nothing but a choker.

A choker for a trained animal.

Why do you let them tame you like that?

No human should tame you.

"The King requests your presence at the principal hall."

That single sentence made a thrill rush over my body.

I thanked the guard that came to give me this message and closed the door of my room. What did he want? It's been days since the last time we've been close. Besides, it was already late in the night...

I gulped.

After dressing myself appropriately to be in the presence of the King, I left my room. A twirl of feelings made havoc inside of me - some I could recognize, some I couldn't. There was excitement, I couldn't deny. As wrong as it was, I missed him.

And there was... suspicion.

As if Yoongi's words weren't enough, now Jungkook's words also did not let me rest - especially what he said about Taehyung.  

I have always been suspicious of him. Again, I did not know why he chose me as his guardian, and honestly most of his intentions were unknown. Jungkook just added more fire to the pit.  

"If he is so good, then why did he make you his slave?"

Only a little time ago, I would never see things this way. I was always proud to be a guardian. But now... I couldn't deny that I partially agreed with what Jungkook said. I was a slave.  

Did it mean Taehyung was just another evil King...?

No, an angry part of me said. I tightened my fists, my steps echoing through the quiet palace hallways. Jungkook didn't know what he was saying; he didn't know Taehyung as well as me. I might not fully understand him, but he was the man that helped hybrids with his own power after all. How could it be considered a political movement when the hybrids didn't even know they were at the presence of their King? I knew Taehyung hated this situation, he hated seeing people suffer. Besides, he was good to me from the moment we met. Taehyung never forced me to do anything. He was the one who made me feel freedom for the first time in my life.  

He was not evil...

But I could not think much of it, because in the moment I saw him standing there my mind went completely blank.

It was odd how my heart was beating so fast. It's been just a few days since I did not see him from up close, yet the sight was enough to almost make me trip over my own feet. Why every detail about him was able to make me so amazed? His tanned skin, his soft dark hair, his broad shoulders and perfect posture. Graceful, but at the same time strongly masculine. Everything about him was perfectly balanced.

He had his hands inside the front pockets of his pants. Taehyung wore casual clothes (note that the royal standard of casual is what a common person would never be able to purchase). Black pants, navy blue shirt. I always thought he looked good in blue.

He turned around when noticed my presence and opened a small smile.

I stopped in front of him and bowed respectfully. "Good night, Your Majesty."

"Good night," he replied. It was also odd that I missed the sound of his quiet, deep voice.  

"Your Majesty requested my presence. Did something wrong happen?" I asked. Why was I feeling so stiff all of sudden?

"We're going somewhere," he said with no further explanations. "Follow me."

I did as he said in silence as he guided me through the palace. The whole building was utterly quiet, almost empty, only guards doing the nightly vigilance. Vanaheim's King would arrive the next day, so the place was already prepared for his arrival. It was time for everyone to rest before the big event.

Taehyung should be included, but as always, he did the exact opposite of what everyone expected.

I side eyed him. The King looked weirdly relaxed, his hands still inside the pockets. He smelled of soap and his hair was slightly damp, what told me he had just taken a shower. However, I still noticed the bags beneath his eyes.

"You're uncharacteristically quiet today," Taehyung said suddenly.

He was right. But somehow, it felt strange to be around him again. I did not feel so comfortable to interact with him inside the palace where he was the King twenty-four hours a day as when we were traveling. Also, I could not forget General Seokjin's warning...

"I am a quiet person, Your Majesty," I said sheepishly.

Taehyung chuckled quietly. "I know. Well, it's not a big deal. I enjoy your company, quiet or not."

It was also odd how my heart nearly stopped because of his sentence.

We arrived at one of the palace's side exits near the gardens. The royal garden was gigantic, millimetrically pruned into perfection. Millions of flowers, fountains made of gold gurgling water quietly, and there was even a maze made of bush walls. The scenery still looked beautiful even at night.  

We crossed the camp in silence and reached the almost hidden exit. There was a guard waiting for us. With no words, he handed us two simple hooded cloaks, which he put over our shoulders promptly. Before we left, Taehyung put his hand on the guard's shoulder and nodded.

"Thank you, Jaehyun," he said. The guard just bowed respectfully.

And in a few minutes we were walking freely through the city.

Most streets were quiet, but as expected of a big city there was a considerable number of people awake, inside taverns or restaurants, having peaceful walks at the Capital's many squares, enjoying the cozy night. Most big cities in Ëlv'en were safe, so it was not shocking to see kids walking around this late at night.  

I have never been out at that hour. I could not leave the palace without permission. Seeing people having fun, dancing inside taverns at the sound of loud music or simply enjoying themselves was somehow pleasing-

My mind went blank again when I felt Taehyung's hand holding mine.

"Your Majesty-" I gasped, completely shocked.

"It will be less suspicious if people think we're just a couple walking around," Taehyung explained quietly, sounding unbothered.

I swallowed and nodded weakly. "Alright."

Alright. Yes, alright.

We walked through a busy street, people just too drunk to even bother noticing us. Taehyung walked unhurriedly, his other hand still inside the front pocket.  

His hand was big.

It made a warmth spread through my entire arm, and my neck, and my face-

Focus!, I scolded myself. We're just holding hands. This is to make us less suspicious. There's no need to be so nervous.

He started to swing our hands between our bodies just slightly.  

There's no need to be so nervous.

Taehyung looked so carefree and young...

Don't be nervous! It will be embarrassing if your hand start sweating!

He looked up to the cloudless night sky. A faint smirk adorned his features.

His grip around my hand tightened almost imperceptibly.  

Breathe, breathe, breathe, breathe, breathe, breathe-

"We arrived," Taehyung said, his steps coming to a halt.

I looked up to the building in front of us, placed in an empty street. The wooden board just above the front door said...

Royal Capital's Orphanage?

Taehyung stepped closer and knocked on the door three times.

Almost immediately, an old woman opened the door, a wide smile on her face.

"Tae Tae!" She exclaimed, opening her arms for a hug.

I frowned. Tae Tae?

Taehyung dropped my hand and engulfed the short woman into one of his tight hugs. "Zofia! It's been so long!" He said happily.

I watched the scene in utter confusion. I should be used to this already.  

It took me some moments to notice the small deer horns peeking from her grizzly hair. A hybrid.

"Get inside!" She said, still smiling and patting Taehyung's back softly.  

I followed them quietly, while that woman Zofia ruffled his hair and made questions such as "How have you been? How's your sister? Are you eating well?"

(I wondered why Taehyung held the love of each elder woman he encountered.)

He then looked at me. "Ah! Zofia, this is Y/N. She's my friend." He said happily. The woman's eyes fell on me and she smiled. I stepped forward and offered my hand for her to take, as I have learned to do when meeting someone, but instead of just the hand she took my entire arm and squeezed me in a tight hug.

"Y/N! It is a pleasure to meet you!" She said, laughing.

"Huh... the pleasure is mine, ma'am," I replied, bashful.

"Where are the kids?" Taehyung asked as Zofia finally let me go, looking around.  

"They are already sleeping, Tae. What did you expect? You came so late," she said, crossing her arms.

Taehyung looked disappointed for a second. I already knew he liked kids a lot. "Well, unfortunately we can't stay long anyway."

"There's no problem, Tae. I know you are very busy." She then put her hands on her chest and sighed, looking up at him with yelling affection. "I can't believe my little boy now is the King! You looked so beautiful during the coronation ceremony!"

Taehyung smiled and scratched the nape of his neck. As odd as it sounds, he did look like a little boy in that moment. "Thank you, Zofia. I promise I'll come back another day when I have more time." He then straightened his posture. "Where's Jimin?"

"He's in the office, waiting for you."  

Taehyung nodded and motioned me to follow him.

The orphanage was big and clean, although I could see some toys threw her and there. It wasn't a big surprise that Taehyung would know such place anymore.  

He opened a particular door and smiled. "Jimin!"

I followed him inside the office and saw another man, a human, probably the same age as Taehyung. He had honey blond hair and feline eyes, which were almost completely closed as he smiled and approached Taehyung.

They hugged and patted each other's backs for some moments, mumbling greetings to each other. As usual, I stood awkwardly some steps away. Who was that man? Why did Taehyung want to meet him?

I introduced myself and Jimin smiled sweetly in reply. There was a smoothness about him I didn't frequently see in common humans; his gaze was almost as piercing as Taehyung's.  

"So, why did you call me?" Jimin started, crossing his arms and leaning his hip on the wooden desk. "I have to say, all this mystery made me nervous. Why is Ëlv'en's King wanting to meet me in secret?"

I saw Taehyung rolling his eyes and they smiled at each other. Jimin said "Ëlv'en's King" with a mocking playfulness, as an old friend would say.

"I need you to do something for me, Jimin," Taehyung said, still smiling, however his voice got serious.  

"You understand that I can't do it without asking something in return, don't you?" Jimin said quirking one eyebrow.

Taehyung huffed and crossed his arms. "Of course you'll be fairly paid."

"Well, taking money from the King is not something that happens everyday. I can't let this chance go," Jimin said, shrugging, a mischievous smirk on his plump lips. "What is it?"

"I need you to find some archives to me at the Tower," Taehyung said. "I want to know the name of every shapeshifter in this continent. A wolf shapeshifter, to be more specific."

Oh.

So that's why we came here. I should've figured; Taehyung did not explain what he wanted to do inside the palace because it would be dangerous, since he thought the culprit was one of his own family and could be hearing our conversation.  

Jimin nodded. "Well, it won't be difficult. There aren't many shapeshifters out there." The blond man narrowed his eyes. "But why don't you ask for it yourself? You are the King, Taehyung. You could get anything you wanted from the Royal Mages."

"No questions, Jimin. For your own sake," Taehyung said seriously. Jimin still eyed him suspiciously, but ended up agreeing.

"Alright, I'll see what I can do."  

"Thank you." Taehyung then smiled sadly. "Unfortunately, I can't stay long. We can talk properly when I have more time."

"But I won't have time from now on," Jimin said, his eyes suddenly gleaming with excitement.  

He approached Taehyung and put his hand on his shoulder.

"Seulgi is pregnant, Taehyung."

The King looked at him in complete awe, his mouth forming a perfect "o".

“What?” Taehyung exclaimed, a huge, genuine smile growing on his lips. He immediately pushed Jimin (rather roughly) into a tight hug, both men laughing – while once again I stood there uncomfortably, feeling like an intruder. “God! I am so happy for you!”

“It was unexpected, but we’re happy, too,” Jimin said. If auras had color, Jimin’s would be bright yellow; pure joy.  

“Where is Seulgi?” Taehyung asked, finally leaving the shorter one.  

“She’s hidden and safe.” Jimin assured. I frowned. Why would she – Jimin's wife, apparently – need to be hidden? “I promise that when things get calmer, I’ll take you to visit her. She misses you, too.”

I watched as they kept talking with smiles on their faces. As usual, I did not fully understand the situation... but all I could focus on was Taehyung’s smile. Taehyung’s eyes shining in delight.

He got so happy simply because of other’s happiness.

How could someone like him be evil?

Our way back to the palace was silent, but it was my fault. I couldn’t think properly with Taehyung holding my hand.

The moment we stepped out of the Orphanage (after Zofia shoved Taehyung with hugs, kisses on his cheeks and said “may the elves guide you” to us hundreds of times), his hand immediately held mine again. I had to gather all of my self-control not to gasp. I was not used to such physical contact; however, if it was any other man, I would have pushed them away. With Taehyung, though...

Well.

He looked even more relaxed after our visit, a lazy smile on his lips all the time. We entered the palace’s property again and-

And he was still holding my hand.

Why is he still holding my hand? We’re not in the streets anymore, there’s no need to pretend-

“I have to keep reminding you all the time that you can make me questions, isn’t it, Y/N?”

I blinked, side eyeing my master. It was difficult to look at him when he was so close. He probably thought I wanted to make questions about today, when in fact I was trying not to combust.

“I apologize, Your Majesty,” I said weakly. Taehyung chuckled.

“You don’t have to apologize all the time, Y/N.”

“Oh. I apologize for apologizing too much.”

Taehyung laughed for real at this, looking at me playfully. “Was that a joke?”

“Unfortunately, I don’t know how to make jokes, Your Majesty,” I said.  

“And this was sarcasm.” Taehyung tilted his head slightly. Why did he look endeared? “Who are you learning these things from?”

Only if he knew my closest friend was the most sarcastic person in existence...

“Why does Jimin’s wife needs to hide?” I got brave enough and decided to ask, changing the topic completely to take his attention off of me.

“Because she’s a hybrid. You know how hard this situation is for pregnant hybrids,” Taehyung replied. I knew it; their babies could be stolen so they could be sold as slaves. It was a sad, common occurrence free hybrids had to deal with.

That’s not what shocked me, though.

“She is a hybrid? And they are married?” I exclaimed to myself. Taehyung nodded.

“Yes. Many humans are married to hybrids, Y/N. You just don’t hear about it because it’s against the law,” the King explained.

Before I could make any more questions about this strange and unexpected situation, Taehyung gasped and his steps came to a halt, making me stop as well. He stared up to the sky.

"It's full moon," he exclaimed, as if he had remembered something very important.

"It is," I murmured, looking at the silver orb glowing brightly in the cloudless sky.

Taehyung thought for some moments, then faced me. It was one of these moments which I couldn't bring myself to look away. And he has never been so close...

His eyes gleamed with newborn excitement. "Do you want to see something amazing?"

I stared at him in awe. How could a man look so pure? How could I say no to whatever he was proposing?  

"Yes...?" I said, confused.

Taehyung nodded, his grip on my hand tightening. "Then let's go. We don't have much time!"

And with that, he started to run towards the entrance of the palace, dragging me along.  

I accompanied his pace with no difficulty, our hurried steps echoing loudly through the building. Taehyung guided me through the labyrinth that is this colossal palace, turning on corners and going upstairs, never once slowing his pace. I recognized where he was leading me to: the royal quarters where members of the royalty had their private rooms, a zone usually forbidden to me. 

"We're almost there!" He said, stopping momentarily in front of a great painting, just as tall as the entire wall. I watched as Taehyung pushed the frame, revealing it to be actually a hidden door. It was not surprising; this palace had hundreds of secret passages, all of them which I had memorized...

But I never entered this particular passage.

Taehyung guided me inside and closed the door behind him; I saw a spiral staircase that led several floors up.  

"Let's go," he said, panting. We started to make our way up relentlessly until, after some minutes, we finally reached the top.

Taehyung opened one door and I found myself breathless.  

Not because of our run, though.

We were at the top of one of the highest towers of the castle, hundreds of meters away from the ground. It had no ceiling, what gave us a beautiful sight of the entire Capital, blanketed by the night.  

Taehyung finally dropped my hand, breathing heavily, and dried the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand. I too took some moments to recover my breath.  

Taehyung looked up. "Good. It seems we arrived just in time," he said.  

"In time to what, Your Majesty?" I asked. Wasn't this beautiful view the "amazing" thing he said before?

Taehyung stared at the horizon. Slowly, a smile creeped up on his lips.

He pointed ahead. "In time for that", he said quietly. I looked in the direction he was pointing, confused.

At first, it was just a tiny white point.

But it started to grow. It was approaching us, flying in the sky in our direction.

When I finally figured out what that thing was, I gasped loudly. Taehyung laughed.

I couldn't believe what my eyes were seeing.

"Y/N, I introduce you my friend Alpha," the King said proudly.

I watched in utter shock as it finally landed on the tower, its gigantic wings making so much wind it made our hairs and clothes wave violently. Its feathers and fur were completely white. Head and wings similar of an eagle; bottom similar of a lion. Its eyes were icy blue - intelligent eyes that landed on Taehyung immediately.

It was...

"A griffin", I whispered in pure astonishment.

Taehyung approached the majestic creature, a wide smile on his lips. "Hi, Alpha. How have you been?"

The griffin stared at him and lowered his head. I watched in pure awe as Taehyung caressed his head, making the creature close his eyes, pleasured.

Taehyung looked back at me, who was still completely frozen in place. "Come here, Y/N!" He exclaimed, gesticulating for me to approach.

I stepped closer hesitantly. The griffin was the most beautiful thing I've ever seen; his snow-white body seemed to shine under the moonlight. He was colossal and his claws could rip a person apart. Beautiful, however powerful and lethal.

Taehyung held my wrist gently. "It's okay. He won't hurt you," he said quietly, guiding my hand to rest on the griffin's head.

The creature looked at me intently. I tentatively caressed him, and Alpha seemed to like it. I couldn't hold my smile.

"Alpha," I pronounced his name in a whisper. The griffin stared at me. I could tell he was too intelligent, so intelligent he could understand us to some level. I noticed his completely white body - the perfect camouflage. A creature of ice. "Were you born in Niflheim, too?" I asked. Alpha blinked slowly, as if saying 'yes'. My smile only grew. "Then it means you're my brother."

"He knows who you are," Taehyung said slowly, his voice barely audible over the sound of the wind. "He respects you."

He looked amazed. Not by Alpha; by me.  

I immediately avoided his gaze.

"How...?" I questioned, unable to formulate a coherent sentence.

"I saved him from hunters, three years ago. He was severely injured," Taehyung explained. I noticed a big scar crossing Alpha's face. "I also helped him to heal. After that, Alpha visits me wherever I go, always during the first full moon of a lunar cycle. I don't understand why he chose this specific date, though."

I nodded, my hand still resting on Alpha's head. He seemed comfortable. "It is said that griffins were the familiars of elves," I said quietly.

Taehyung nodded. "I know. That is, until mankind almost made them extinct." Taehyung sighed, staring at Alpha deeply. "I can't understand how someone could be able to hurt such creature. They almost don't exist anymore. That's why nobody knows about Alpha. I'm concerned that someone might hurt him again."

I nodded. An idea popped up on my mind.

"Do you think Alpha wants to be your familiar, that's why he follows you?" I asked.

Taehyung crossed his arms and shook his head. "Ah, no. I just think he wants to show his gratitude. Sometimes I think he sees me as his child," Taehyung chuckled. "He is not tied to me; he is free. That is how everyone should be, don't you think? Free."

In that moment, I couldn’t agree more with what he said.

But a small voice inside of me whispered... am I free, too?

Alpha suddenly moved, straightening his posture and watched us from above. Taehyung put his hands on his waist. “It’s time for him to leave. He never stays long when I’m at the Capital; he knows it’s dangerous to be in such a crowded city.” The King smiled and waved to the ethereal creature. “See you soon, Alpha.”

The griffin landed his gaze on Taehyung for some moments, then he looked at me. I could see and feel the purity of his soul. A creature so imposing and noble, the last reminiscent that elves once lived among us in Earth. I never thought I would live long enough to see one in person. So little of them remained after the elves disappeared...

“Bye, Alpha,” I said softly. “It was a pleasure meeting you.”

Alpha looked at me intently, and I swear I saw him nodding his head. We stepped behind when he extended his immense wings, flying away with yet another gust of wind.

We watched in silence as the creature became smaller and smaller, until he disappeared in the night.

“This is yet another secret I ask you to keep,” Taehyung said lightheartedly. I nodded.

“Of course, Your Majesty.”

Stepping away from him, I looked around. The sight was breathtaking; the city below looked like a glowing map. The sight extended kilometers and kilometers in front of us, so far I could see where the city ended, so far I could almost see the Styx River at West and the Great Forest Baïkarh at East. Legends said Baïkarh hid the entrance to Alfheim and the Styx River hid the entrance to Helheim; East and West, good and evil, mighty and dishonored side by side.  

“It’s wonderful,” I whispered to myself, putting my hands over the parapet made of stone.

“I’d rather say frightening.”

I frowned and looked back to my master.

Taehyung seemed uneasy, shifting the weight of his body uncomfortably. His eyebrows were frowned in a concerned expression, he gulped and suddenly looked small-

“Is Your Majesty scared of heights?” I questioned, quirking one eyebrow.

The King scratched the nape of his neck, looking bashful. “Is it embarrassing?”

I couldn’t help but smile. “Of course not, Your Majesty. This is a common phobia,” I reassured him.

Taehyung almost screamed when he saw me sitting on the parapet, my legs swinging into nothing.

“Hey- this is dangerous! You shouldn’t-” he tried, approaching one step.

He froze whein I extended my arm encouragingly in his direction in silence.

“Hm, I don’t think so...” he murmured, staring at my hand with pure fright on his eyes.

“It’s alright,” I reassured him again. “I won’t let Your Majesty fall.”

Taehyung looked at me. He definitely caught the slight tone of challenge in my voice. The King sighed, passed his hand through his hair and rolled his eyes, giving in. “I hope you’re not trying to kill me, Y/N.”

He approached with hesitant steps, gripping my hand. Very carefully, he sat by my side on the parapet. It was almost like seeing a cat approaching water. Taehyung gulped, his legs wobbly, his hand gripping mine so tightly it would’ve hurt if I weren’t so accustomed with pain.

“Wow, this is high. Very, very high.” he gulped again; I could feel his hand shaking slightly against mine. His voice sounded uncharacteristically high pitched and I had to control myself not to laugh. “Oh my God, I think I’ll vomit-”

“Don’t look down. Look ahead instead,” I advised.  

Taehyung did what I said, however his body was completely stiff. “How can you be so relaxed when we’re hundreds of meters away from the ground?”

“I am focusing in the view instead of caring about the danger, Your Majesty,” I said softly. And of course, there was the fact I can actually fly, but he didn’t know about it.

“Hm. Okay.” Taehyung went quiet for some more moments. “I get quite talkative when I’m scared, so you’ll have to bear me right now.”

“If it makes Your Majesty feel better,” I said, still looking ahead.

“I remembered something interesting these days,” Taehyung continued, his voice sounding slightly maniac at the moment. “I remember you from when I was little.”

I widened my eyes, shocked. “You do?”

“Yes. Sometimes, I had the impression I saw a little girl following my father. Seokjin said it was the angry spirit of a dead princess that haunted the palace. I couldn’t sleep for weeks.” Taehyung laughed shakily. I smiled too, imagining a frightened young Taehyung under the blankets, trying to sleep. “When I told my father, he simply scolded me as always.”

I side eyed him; it’s been a while since I noticed Taehyung held some hard feelings towards his father, yet he never said it out loud. “He was indeed a severe man,” I said very carefully.

Taehyung huffed. “He was beyond severe. It’s alright, Y/N. We don’t need to pretend. We both know he was not a good person.”

The words got stuck in my throat.  

That was unexpected; the stinging sorrow in his voice, the amount of feelings he had within himself. And more importantly – I never thought of my past master this way...

Not yet.

“I... can’t say it for sure,” I admitted, suddenly feeling that turmoil of feelings again. It’s been a while since I’ve been remembering my interactions with King Taejun; he was severe and serious, did not accept any failure. Yet – saying out loud he was bad was something hard to do.

Taehyung watched me in silence for some moments.

“Did you love him, Y/N?” he asked quietly.

I didn’t know what to say.

More importantly, I didn’t understand why he was asking me that.

Love? I respected King Taejun. He was my sun, the reason I would wake up every day. He was the main purpose of my existence. But... love?

“I don’t know,” I whispered, almost as if it was a secret confession. “I don’t know what love is.”

Taehyung nodded and looked ahead.

“It’s alright. I don’t have much experience in this area, either. At least when it’s about paternal love.” I watched him in silence, eager to hear more – especially because I noticed how his grip in my hand was softening, how he was slowly relaxing as he talked. “I was a long-awaited son, but not for the right reasons. My father needed a heir, someone to carry on his legacy. But my mother always had a fragile health. They tried to have children multiple times and failed. My father was going desperate; if he did not have a child of his own, then one of my cousins would become the heir. The crown would leave the principal branch of the Kim House, and disgrace would fall on his shoulders. So you can imagine how satisfied he was when my mother finally gave birth.”

I nodded slowly, encouraging him to keep talking. I did not know why he decided to talk about his life, but I was more than satisfied.

“In the end, I don’t think Taejun saw me as his son after all. I was just the heir, the crown prince. And in order to carry his legacy, he wanted me to be like him.” Taehyung tilted his head. I could see his mind was far away, drowned in memories. “I had classes with the teachers he chose about the themes he wanted. He never approved my interest for magic, because he thought it was useless. However, when I bothered him way too much, guess what? He chose who would teach me.”

“Sir Gael,” I remembered. Now things were starting to make sense. Taehyung nodded.

“Yes. I was always surrounded by people that thought like him. People that said things like pure-human supremacy and unholy hybrids.” He huffed, rolling his eyes. “I would escape to that Orphanage we visited when things got too boring, you know. I met Jimin and Seulgi there. In that Orphanage, both human and hybrid kids grow together with no difference between them. While at home I heard things like unholy hybrids, at that Orphanage I played with these kids and they were just... normal. How could them be bad and unholy? Even as a kid I could see there was something wrong with it.”

His entire body was relaxing slowly, voice getting lower. His grip around my hand was comfortable now.  

“When I was old enough, I finally got tired of my father wanting to control every aspect of my life. I wanted to see things with my own eyes, to learn from people that did not think like him, to see the real world. Me and my father fought every day. It felt like hell, honestly.” Taehyung let a quiet, humorless chuckle past his lips. “Until we finally made a deal. How did he like to say? “You don’t gain things, you negotiate them.” And so did I. Taejun finally let me go. For the past six years, I’ve been traveling the world. I’ve been visiting places, learning from different people.”

“This is how Your Majesty met your mentor?” I asked quietly.

“Yes. This is how I met Petrus. My father would never approve it if he knew who was teaching me, but now he couldn’t tell me what to do.”

“And this is why people know you as ‘Vante’”. So many things were getting clear right now, like the fact that I barely knew or remembered anything about him; he has been away. Taehyung nodded.

“I wanted to get close to people, hybrids in special, but if I went to them and introduced myself as the crown prince they would probably kill me or worse. I’m sure you noticed how the common population hates the royal family. Because of that, Vante was born. My disguise was more a safety measure than anything... well, being honest, as I started to help people in these villages, I didn’t want them to know who I was after all. Everything I did as the prince would reflect in my father’s reputation, and I didn’t want to make him seem good at this point.”

“Didn’t your father know what Your Majesty was doing?”  

“Not really.” Taehyung said, tilting his head. “I knew he sent people to follow me, but I always managed to escape. Of course, sometimes I had no other choice but come back for official events and such. In the meantime, I was just Vante.”

I watched him in silence for some moments, just the sound of the wind between us. His hair waved softly. “Your Majesty likes being Vante.” It wasn’t a question, for I already knew the answer.

“Being Vante is simple. No luxury, no pretending, not having to impress everyone all the time.” Taehyung sighed deeply. “Unfortunately, I can’t be him anymore from now on.”

I frowned slightly. What did he mean?

“Who do you like the most? Taehyung or Vante?” he asked suddenly, voice playful, making me avoid his gaze, flustered.

“You and him are the same person,” I said sincerely, making Taehyung roll his eyes.

“You know what I mean.”

“But that’s what I see. You and Vante are the same, I don’t see any difference between you. Both are good people that cares for others.”  

Taehyung stared at me, a smile slowly growing on his lips. “So, that means you like me.”

My lungs failed.

“I- well-” I stuttered, looking at anything but him, feeling my entire body get hot when he suddenly intertwined his fingers with mine. Why did I get so nervous? Why was my heart beating so fast? He didn’t even say something shocking – he was my master, so it was no surprise that I would like him, right?

But King Taejun used to be my master, and my heart never fluttered when I was around him. Not this way...  

Why is that? What does he mean by “like”? “Like” in what sense?  

Taehyung laughed loudly. It seems that he was already very comfortable.

“Well, I personally prefer Vante,” he said, looking at our intertwined hands. While his was warm, mine was cold. “Vante is a simple guy. Kim Taehyung... he is complicated. He has many secrets.”

Again, I saw a glimpse of sorrow in his eyes. Beautiful, dark eyes. How could he be so honest, but at the same time so difficult to understand? It felt like staring at the surface of a lake; beautiful at sight, but impossible to know its true depth.

It was scary how I wanted to get into this lake.

“It seems that Your Majesty isn’t afraid of the height anymore,” I pondered after some seconds of silence. Taehyung chuckled.

“No, I’m still frightened. Please, don’t ask me to do this again.” A small smile adorned his lips. “But... you were right. The sight is beautiful.”

I smiled too, focusing in the gorgeous sight in front of us.

Trying to pretend that I didn’t notice how he said that last sentence looking at me, and not at the landscape.

I watched as King Satoshi entered the Throne Room accompanied by his Entourage.

The short man smiled widely as his gaze locked with Taehyung’s, who was approaching as well. Vanaheim’s king has always been a warm person, as far as I remembered; he didn’t change much in appearance, his long black hair the same, as well as his extravagant green attire. He was considerably young, barely fifty years old.

Instead of shaking Taehyung’s hand when they were close enough, King Satoshi hugged my master, patting his back and smiling.  

I couldn’t really focus on them because of the other man behind Satoshi – barely a shadow.

Yuta.

Vanaheim’s dragon-guardian stared at me with confused and shocked eyes. However, instead of showing anger the way Hoseok did, Yuta locked gazes with me and nodded respectfully – his way to greet me in silence. Yuta has always been a pondered and calm man after all, the exact opposite of Hoseok.

I knew my brother was probably judging me, though, and yet again I would be forced to give explanations – but not now.

Satoshi put his hands on Taehyung’s shoulders and measured him from head to toe, eyes shining.

“Ah, look at you, Tae. The elves sure have been blessing you. I remember just yesterday you were a skinny brat running around. The man you’ve become!”  

Taehyung laughed loudly, and I could hear his laugh was sincere. Satoshi’s choice of words was quite inappropriate, but for a man that was similar to an uncle, it was no problem.

After greeting Taehyung, King Satoshi proceeded to greet the Queen Mother, Seojeon, in one of her rare appearances. The woman was still incredibly beautiful; it seems that the years had no effect on her at all. He then greeted Taehyung’s younger sister, Princes Yeri – just as beautiful as her mother.

“King Satoshi, it is an honor to receive the Minatozaki Royal House in our Kingdom,” Taehyung said when the greetings ended. Satoshi nodded.

“I am excited to begin our negotiations, Taehyung. I’m sure that the bond between our kingdoms will get stronger than ever. We have many issues to discuss, but I don’t want to delay things; you probably already know our main theme.”

Probably nobody noticed it. Nobody knew Taehyung as well as me. He stiffened just slightly for a single moment – too fast for anyone to notice.

When King Satoshi spoke again, I could understand why.

I not only understood, but also felt a foreign, deep and agonizing pain strike my heart like an arrow. Something I shouldn’t be feeling, something that didn’t make any sense. But I felt anyway. As stupid and inappropriate as it is, I felt it.

In that moment, I finally realized: Taehyung wasn’t just a master to me.

And he would never be anything more than this.  

Satoshi’s voice sounded lighthearted; however, each word of his echoing in the vast Throne Room just made me feel smaller until I wanted to disappear:

“I came here to talk about your betrothal with my daughter, Princess Sana.”  

#taehyung #bts taehyung #kim taehyung #taehyung scenarios #taehyung scenario #taehyung imagine #taehyung imagines #taehyung fanfiction #taehyung fanfic #taehyung x reader #taehyung angst #taehyung fluff #bts #bts fanfiction #bts fanfic #bts imagines #bts scenarios #bts au #bts reactions #bts angst #bts fluff #bangtan #bangtan fanfiction #bangtan fanfic #bangtan imagines #bangtan scenarios #bangtan au #bts v #v imagine #v scenario

[carolrance]

I AM DYING LMAO

i just found the most hilarious reviews for the handmaid’s tale and i’m dying lol. since twop is dead(?) (is it? i dunno cos i never look anymore tbh) this is the next best thing. and it’s doubly awesome cos she hates all the same characters. (mutual nick hate is my life). i have another post in my drafts about how amazing amy glynn’s reviews at paste are. and they are. but they are serious. these ones are snarktastic.

“Welcome back to America’s favorite rape and explosions show, The Handmaid’s Tale.”

“Nick goes out into the rain, full emo cigarette smoking, resigned to boning this virgin, when he spies something. Oh no! It’s Offred, sprawled in the rain, bleeding to death. He picks her up and screams for help. My god. These two. Offred is the world’s worst teenager. And Nick is her bad boy boyfriend. She’s going to robotically obey and then bleed to death in the rain? Get the fuck out of here with that. These two act like they are in a My Chemical Romance music video circa 2005.” (This is my fav one of them all.)

“Speaking of Nick, he’s still the worst! His baby bride comes to Offred for...advice? I don’t know why she comes to her exactly, except maybe it’s like coming to your sluttiest friend and asking a weird sex question? I don’t know.”

“Serena is clearly mad about Offred, and E. Moss is doing a great job as playing her as the bitchiest teenager in the house. Aunt Lydia has moved in to keep her eye on Offred, and she bursts in during Offred’s teenage sulk bath to instruct her to wash. Down there. You know. (vagina). Offred makes more defiant teenage eye contact as she washes. Down there. She’s almost coming on to Lydia. That’s cool, I guess.”

“We cut to the Colonies and some more cockadoodie plot machinations. Because of the mass casualty event, Emily and Janine, among others, are going to be pressed back into service as Handmaids. This is some ripe bullshit. First off, both are disobedient. Secondly, they’ve been in the radioactive Colonies for a hot minute--who knows what that’s done to their baby making machinery? But now the writers can bring back some important characters. COCKADOODIE.”

“Part of the purpose of the walks are so the fetus can hear and get used to Serena’s voice, you see, and Serena wants to talk shit about everyone they know.”

“We get some grade A pen pornography as she lovingly fingers Fred’s pens, and we close on the image of Serena behind the desk and Offred clicking the ballpoint just like Ofglen clicked the detonator. (We also get an insane music cue: “Venus.” You know, from the razor commercials and also the 1960s? Like, what the what the what, show.)”

“She’s worked on her shrine and her newspaper-clipping Crazy Wall ™, where she is reconstructing the events that led to the creation of Gilead. Which is great, but also, bitch, didn’t you watch the fucking news? You lived through this.”

“They load up into a truck, but at the last minute, Offred remembers that she is the worst and this show is supposed to go for ten seasons, so she hops out, gives the baby to Emily, and heads back into the night, to become Jedi June and fight Gilead to rescue her other daughter.”

“Serena stomps into Devil Fred’s mancave while he is enjoying his jazz records and demands that Offred go back to the Red Center. Fred talks her down, telling her that they don’t want to miss the joy of the pregnancy. Which, okay, Fred. You try having a testy teenager in your face all day.”

“I really wanted to punch her during all of this. How golly, and how insensitive, to poke through their sacred objects and get all teary-eyed, especially as they risk their lives to shelter her dumb ass.”

“Serena monologues about her drafts of new security orders. She wants things to get back to normal--she wants to cut back on the police state to normal dystopian police state levels.”

“It seems the Marthas have had enough, and they are taking action. Offred fucks around for about ten minutes because she is the worst, carving Nolite into the bedroom wall.”

“Anyway, Serena is super pissed, violently potting succulents and plotting dark deeds.”

“At some point, Offred takes a pout bath that is red with blood. She also bleeds clear through her underwear. When they get home, the Waterfords welcome Nick’s bride into the household, and then send Offred and Rita away. Rita is worried about Offred, but Offred has decided to bleed to death. Up the stairs she goes.”

“Offred’s presence rouses Fred out of his mini-coma for just long enough for him to remark on her size (just like a real son of a bitch). Offred leaves and makes out with Nick in the hall because they are stupid assholes. I mean, really. There are people and Eyes all over the place and these two are just slobbering all over. Offred also makes the Martha’s shooting all about her in a real self-centered way.”

“Let’s check in on the boring house, shall we? Offred decides to go around and collect godmothers for her baby.”

“Oh I forgot that Nick and Offred cuddled the baby and blah blah and I still hate them. Also, Nick, your baby bride’s blood is on your hands.”

“In the show, though, we’ve seen a lot of natal care, including ultrasounds, and we’ve seen the inside of a hospital room. Why in the fucking hell would they mess around with home birth at all? It’s so illogical it makes me mad.”

“So she goes outside with the shotgun, has another wolf encounter, and blasts off some rounds to alert someone of her presence. Then she goes back inside and takes off all her clothes and shits that kid out.”

“Back at the Waterford manse, Serena and Offred bond, AGAIN, over Eden’s execution and Serena lets Offred breast feed the baby, because she is completely internally inconsistent. On this episode, Serena will be affected by the atrocities of the regime she helped create. ANYWAY, THE END.”

“Eden wants to spruce up the apartment, and Nick gives her permission and plays the husband humoring his little woman’s whims. Which, total and complete barf forever. Nick still doesn’t see Eden as a potential threat, because he is an idiot. While she’s working on her HGTV audition tape, she finds the stack of contraband letters Nick took from Offred when she was going mad.”

“Into the house they run, Serena screaming Offred’s name like she’s going to catch her and probably murder her. I mean, this is full throated scream. If your dog ran away, you wouldn’t scream his name that way because he would be like: that bitch is crazy and wants to kill me. So it unsuprisingly doesn’t work on a human woman.”

“Meanwhile, Nick catches Eden kissing the douchebag Guardian. He’s like no big deal, and Eden freaks out. She says that he’s in love with the Handmaid, and he gaslights the fuck out of her denying it. Nick is a bastard. He shows Eden no kindness. He doesn’t treat her like a person. She doesn’t rate even a decent excuse. There are many things he could say: that she’s so young, that they don’t know each other, that he’s unhappy to be married at all. But he does none of those things. This woman is fifteen years old. She’s spent her adolescence under the yoke of Gilead. While she may be a true believer, she is still not in charge of her fate here. Nick is a bastard.”

“Devil Fred and Offred get in a knock-down, drag out, and he misquotes the bible at her and slaps her across the face. She then slaps him across his face, and is not immediately fucking super murdered.”

“Emily is like what the fuck, this place is weird. Lydia is like, bye! You better be good or we will kill you! Have fun! Anyway, she has a brief conversation with the Wife, who is like: this guy is horrible. He created The Colonies! He poisoned people! Commander Old Hipster gently shuffles her away, back to her crazy room.”

And serious business shit (cos it’s not all jokes):

“What I do think is wrong is the zig-zagging of Serena’s character. She’s mean and petty, and then she’s happy playing writer to Offred’s editor. Then she’s mad again, and then even more mad after that. Raping Offred to punish her for false labor is insane and irredeemable. Devil Fred has been consistently devilish--a prick who enjoys owning women--but Serena has seesawed from one extreme to another. I don’t think it makes her character more complicated or deep. Instead, it seems like inconsistency in the writing.

This show has been saluted as being of the times, for being very current. When I see children being ripped from their parents, or in an earlier episode this season, people desperate to escape to another country, and then I see it echoed in real life, it is hard to take. Dystopias are less entertaining to watch when you live in a country that seems to be accelerating toward the same.”

“Things I liked: Annie Lennox, Commander Old Hipster/his house/his wife/his Martha/his stolen art collection/taste in graphic novels/scarves, Rita and the Marthas rising up. Things I didn’t like: EVERYTHING ELSE

As adaptations go, the second season was always going to be a rough one. I can’t say that it was successful. They’ve turned June/Offred into an asshole, and they made Serena so inconsistent we don’t even know what to expect moment to moment. That’s not good writing, y’all.”

BTW, the site is:

https://heauxsmag.com/new-blog/?tag=handmaids+tale

#i'm gonna read s1 later #the handmaid's tale #i no longer worry about any of my posts showing up in tags cos apparently tumblr has decided that nothing i post is worthy of being found ev #ever so whatevs pals. i don't even worry about tagging to avoid being seen in a search now #it's kinda like freedom?? but also invisibility???? hmmmmmmm #there's gotta be some sort of philosophical treatise in there or something #who cares #anti-nick #there i did it. i have a tag. cos nick is the worst. #(he's not the literal worst obvs. but he's the worst to me cos of fandom. it ruined him totally and made me hate him 10000%) #(serena and fred and lydia like worse than him technically but meh.)

[hamilton-one-shots]

Hamilton High School AU 79

When they got back to the hotel, it was a quick and rehearsed routine of John getting ready and getting dressed, leaving with James, and Thomas and Alexander getting ready a bit after he’d left. Luckily, John managed to make it out with him on time and Thomas and Alexander were able to just sit and wait for a bit before having to leave.

“So, how are you feeling about all of this now? You’re not planning on running out on us again, are you?”

Alexander rolled his eyes, but shook his head. “No.. John helped me through that. I’m not running away again.”

“Good. Because John really does care for you and I care for him. I wouldn’t want to break his heart in order to save it.”

“So... You’re really not trying to take John for yourself?.. But.. You said you wanted me gone.”

He tutted. “Past tense. And I said that I’d like for John to drop you, but I’d never make him. I said if he did drop you, it’d be all on you. I was never planning on trying to take John from you like that.”

“Oh..” Alexander muttered. “I guess I should apologize, then... I didn’t realize how much you actually changed since then..”

Thomas shook his head. “Don’t apologize. If I’m being honest, I may have made your little episode back then seem worse than you actually are to John. Not on purpose, I was just pissed. I don’t get how you can just run out on him like that. He clearly loves you, so what was your deal?”

“He clearly loves you, too.. We’ve been over this..”

“Yeah, we have. I’m still wondering why that translates to you having to run, not you talking to John about getting rid of me. It was your call in the first place. You clearly have power.”

Alexander sighed. “It’s personal...”

Thomas frowned and leaned towards him. “Alexander... Look at me.” He waited until he actually had his attention before continuing. “You know about John’s mom. You know about his dad. You know what he went through for his siblings and... and because of me.. You also know that my parents are divorced. You know about my mom’s shit boyfriend. You know what I’m going through to take care of Lucy. All I know about you is you came from some island in the Caribbean. What sense does it make that you know all that about John, all that about me, and we know nothing about you?..”

He frowned and looked down for a second, then looked back up at Thomas. “You’re serious about us, aren't’ you?..”

He nodded. “I’ll admit, I only really love John, but we’re both in this for the long run. If you are too, the least I can do for you is be your friend.”

Alexander sighed. “Of course I’m in this for the long run.. I’m here for John and I always want to be here for John.. He’s helped me so much..” He thought for a few seconds before nodding. “I can talk about it with you both... I’ll do it when John’s around, I promise.”

“Good. And I’m not just trying to get you to spill your guts. You have to learn to trust us. Me and John.”

“I trust John..” he muttered. “It’s complicated and I know it doesn’t seem like it, but I trust him..”

Thomas nodded a bit and checked the time, still not sure whether or not he could believe him. “We should get going..”

“Okay..” Alexander got up and followed him out of the hotel room.

They got in Thomas’s car and went to the event, as usual, acting like nothing was wrong. Acting like their conversation never happened. But they both knew it was going to come up and that it was one of them who was going to initiate it. What they weren’t completely sure on was who that was going to have to be. John, of course, didn’t catch on, something that they were both grateful for. He seemed happy as ever, selling his art and discussing possibilities of scholarships from certain schools or certain organizations. He was happy. That was all that mattered.

The next morning, everyone got up fairly early and got ready for the day, planning on getting breakfast on the way to the final destination of their vacation.

John was still the first up, as usual. He took a quick shower and changed into a baggy hoodie and cargo shorts.

“Pockets don’t stop them from being a fashion disaster, sunshine.” “Maybe not, but they’re comfortable and useful. What are you wearing on the trip? Skinny jeans and your finest t-shirt?” John argued back, Alexander getting ready and Thomas bickering with him from across the bed.

“You’re better than cargo shorts. That’s all I’m saying. And, for your information, I was planning on wearing regular jeans, like a normal person.”

John snorted at that. “Did you pack any shorts?”

“It’s not even that hot.”

“Trust me, it will be. Just wear some of those basketball shorts that you’ve been using as pajamas.”

He tutted. “Alright, fine. If you insist, master of the outdoors.” He chuckled and got up as Alexander got out of the bathroom.

John rolled his eyes and threw a pillow at him, just barely making it through the door as he shut it.

Thomas laughed and opened the door again, throwing the pillow back outside.

Alexander raised a curious eyebrow and brought the pillow back to the bed. “What did I miss?”

“Thomas was not built for the outdoors. He has no idea how to dress for the outside world.”

He smiled. “I could’ve told you that.” Of course, Alexander was smarter than that and was wearing a simple tank top and denim shorts.

“You’re right.” He kissed his cheek and waited with him for Thomas to get out of the bathroom.

Once he was ready, they all went down to his car and John drove them out to the forest trails, getting food on the way. They ate in the car, then got out and put on sunscreen and bug spray.

“Alexander, just because you’re from the Caribbean, that doesn’t mean you’re immune to the sun.”

He tutted and let John put sunscreen on his face. “Killjoy. Now I’m going to feel all greasy.”

“And you won’t be sunburnt. Trust me, that is a lesson I learned the hard way as a child.” He smiled and gave him the bottle. “You do the rest. Come on.”

“Alright, fine.”

John waited for his two childish boyfriends to finish before taking them on the trails. “This was where my mom used to take us all the time, more than anywhere else. And it was always my favorite..” He smiled and took in the fresh air, cleaner than it ever was in New York.

Alexander smiled and walked beside him, holding his hand. “This is where you saw all of those animals, right?”

“Yeah.. That was one of my favorite parts, seeing the animals here with her. We had to stop when Martha was a baby, but we started coming back when she was two for a bit..” Only for a little bit. Because his mom did get pregnant again only months after Martha was able to join them in the forest.

Thomas looked around. He was never really one for the outdoors, which was clear to everyone around him, but he was willing to go out there and try to enjoy it for John. He tied his hair back and kept walking, not wanting to get anything caught in it. He almost bumped into Alexander as he did, too busy with his hair to pay attention to what had been happening in front of him. And thank god he caught himself in time.

John was crouching down, wild berries that he’d been picking in hand, feeding a skunk. He smiled as it began eating and slowly moved his other hand to pet it, letting it be sure that he wasn’t a threat.

Alexander smiled widely and took pictures, careful to make sure that his phone wouldn’t make any sound. He knew what a skunk was and what it could do, of course, but it excited him to see one so close and with John feeding it!

Thomas... wasn’t as keen to the idea. He slowly took a step back after he saw it, making absolutely no noise so he wouldn’t spook it and make John pay for his mistake. How John so good around animals, he couldn’t help but wonder. And especially around animals like skunks, which could effectively ruin the nest couple of weeks of his life. It was kind of amazing... But mostly worrying. But he didn’t say anything about it until the striped creature was gone. “How are you so calm around those things? Or anything around out here?”

John shrugged. “I like animals, animals like me. And skunks don’t spray unless scared. I don’t really have a reason to worry.” He got up and kept walking, looking around at the vaguely familiar sights. He couldn’t recognize each tree exactly, but he could remember the way the trail twisted and every turn that was in it. He smiled and walked silently, holding Alexander’s hand and occasionally stopping to let him take a picture or two.

Alexander took as many pictures as he could without bothering John or raising any suspicions. He’d been doing the same thing all week with the same effect, after all. It really would’ve been the worst if John had caught onto what he was doing right then.

But John was hardly paying attention to that. He was more focused on the river that they came across. He smiled widely and looked down both ends before pulling Alexander down one way with him, Thomas trailing behind. He only stopped when he reached the end of it, a fairly short waterfall.

“Did we go the wrong way?” Alexander asked, yelling over the sound of rushing water.

John shook his head. “No! This was exactly what I was looking for!” He let go of Alexander’s hand and smiled, pointing at the bottom. “It’s a manmade lake, but it’s my favorite part about here! I almost forgot about it because I didn’t know how to swim when I was a kid, but I do now!”

It took Alexander a few seconds to put together what John was saying. “If you jump, I’m not following!”

“Who’s the killjoy now?” John teased before heading behind a tree. He stripped down to his boxers and left his clothes there before running and diving over the side of the cliff, cannonballing into the water below him.

Alexander watched, exasperated. He went behind the tree and picked up John’s clothes, then went around and found a trail he could use to get down to the lake.

“Alex, wait!” Thomas called to him, following John’s lead. He wasn’t an outdoors kind of guy, but this was too much fun to just pass up. He jumped into the lake behind John, landing a few feet away from him.

Alexander tutted and went back for his clothes, then went down to the bottom. He stripped down to his underwear, just like the other two, and walked into the water like a sane person, swimming over to John and Thomas.

“Oh, come on. You have to admit this is kind of cool,” John teased, swimming over to him and kissing his cheek.

Alexander couldn’t help but smile the tiniest bit. “Alright. This is pretty cool.”

“Exactly!” John put his hair up into a bun and swam around. The water was clean and fresh, it mainly served as a source of water for the animals when there weren’t teenagers swimming around in it, so it stung John’s eyes a bit as he opened them beneath the water, but not enough to stop him.

Thomas followed him beneath the surface of the water and tried to go after him, his eyes a bit more irritated by the freshwater, but John seemed to be too fast for him. He eventually gave up and went back up to the surface, where Alexander was still watching them act like dorks, smiling at the sight.

“John’s too fast for you?”

“On land or on water, that has always been his strong point,” Thomas shrugged, wiping the water from his face.

Alexander chuckled, smiling as John surfaced beside them. “Finally felt like joining us mortals, Aquaman?”

John smiled and splashed him. “Shut up, I just like swimming. And I’ve never been swimming in this lake, just a little bit of getting my feet wet when I was little.”

“Well, you’re here now. Enjoy it.” He wiped the water off of his face, then kissed his cheek.

“I am, don’t worry. Come swim with me.” He took Alexander’s hands and took him out to the deeper water, stopping when he felt Alexander’s grip on his hands get tighter. “Are you okay?..”

“Um.. can.. Can we go back to the shallow water?..”

John nodded, a concerned expression on his face. “Yeah, of course we can.” He swam back with him, keeping a distance from Thomas. “What’s wrong?..”

He took a deep breath. “Just... Bad memories.. From when I was a kid..”

“Do you want to get out of the water? We can go ahead and head back to the hotel, I’ve had enough fun.”

Alexander hesitated before nodding. “Yes, please..”

“Okay..” He waded through the lake and over to Thomas. “Hey, are you ready to go?”

“As soon as I can get my clothes on, yeah.” He got out of the water with the other two and all three shook the water off as best as they could before getting dressed. Once they were dressed, they went back to Thomas’s car and drove to the hotel, going up to their room and getting ready.

John was the first to do so, as usual, and spent a bit longer than usual in the shower, making sure his hair was completely clean. When he was done, he pulled his hair back into a neat bun, just as he had been, and got dressed. He took a deep breath, nervous about the final day as he had been on the first, and went out to his boyfriends. “How do I look?”

They both looked over and felt their jaws dropped. Sure they’d been seeing John in a suit all week, but... there was just something so different about seeing him in a tuxedo, something so surreal, that they couldn’t take their eyes off of him.

He smiled and blushed lightly at the attention. “I’m taking that as a good thing?..”

“Better than good. You look great, sunshine. You’re going to wow everyone there.” He got up and helped John straighten his tie before kissing his forehead and going to the restroom to get ready.

Alexander was still frozen, not knowing what to say. What was he supposed to say to his dashing boyfriend? “I don’t deserve you,” was all he managed to get out.

John rolled his eyes a bit at that and sat beside him. “I hate when you say that.. Of course you deserve me. You and Thomas are the best boyfriends a guy could ask for.” He smiled and leaned forward, kissing him softly.

Alexander smiled into it and returned the kiss. For John and Thomas, kissing was more for communication, but for him and Alexander, it was pure affection and both loved every second of it. Alexander reached a hand up and cupped John’s cheek, his other hand holding John’s and keeping him close.

John sighed contently into the kiss and put his free hand on Alexander’s shoulder, not caring about how cold he felt under his warm touch, and pulling himself that much closer. There was nothing heated about the kiss and it didn’t escalate into something that was. It was simple, sweet affection, a way to show each other how much they truly cared. And it took up their entire world until they were interrupted by a knock at the door.

Alexander tutted, breathless from the kiss. “I’ll see you at the event.”

“Okay.. I’ll see you there.” He smiled and pecked Alexander’s lips before leaving with James.

Alexander smiled and waited for Thomas to come out of the bathroom before going in himself and getting ready. He sighed a bit. Thomas brought a tuxedo for that night too.. Alexander would be the one sticking out like a sore thumb and the idea made him cringe. He wished John had told him how to dress... No, he had... He wished that he knew that Thomas was planning on matching with John that day. All he had was the black suit he’d worn earlier that week. He tutted and just finished taking his shower, then got dressed.

#hamilton #hamilton fanfic #alexander hamilton #thomas jefferson #john laurens #lams #thaurens #jamilams #79 #chapter 79

[serenagaywaterford]

1) Hey, it's me again. The idiot rambling anon. I wasn't gonna spam you again, but then I read your responses. At this point, I'm convinced you're my alter ego, lol. My thoughts are all over the place, but I'll try to organize them. So, about Nick. I've purposely avoided talking about him so far, but why the hell not? Let me make one thing clear: I'm NOT of of those thirsty fangirls. But even if I was? I wouldn't get offended or butthurt, because another person likes different fictional

2) characters (of all things) than me. I mean, big fucking deal. Each to their own, no need for apologies. ;) (My tone is a little aggressive, I know, but I’m sick and tired of some people on social media –in and out of fandoms– acting holier-than-thou and sending hate messages and even actual death threats (!) to creators or people that express unpopular opinions*. It’s reached a point where many people feel the need to put disclaimers in their posts so as not to be attacked.)

3) Back to Nick. I liked him just fine back in early S1, when he was all mysterious and his background story was unknown to us. When we did learn about it and the fandom started acting like he’s that pure, handsome angel uwu? Nah. Obviously, he’s no Fred/Serena/Lydia,but he’s not a “cinnamon roll” either. (Imo, the only decent dude on that show is Luke.) I mean, if Nick was SO altruistic, he wouldn’t have joined this job. Or even after everything went down, he could have tried to help other

4) handmaids without expecting anything in return. But no, he only helps June and that’s because he’s in love with her. I’m not blaming him for trying to survive under such circumstances, but I won’t idolize him either. Now, in s2? I’m kinda neutral about him. I don’t hate him, but I can’t say that I’m a fan either. Not gonna lie, he bores me at times, because he’s just… there. No sparks, no fireworks. Not sure if it’s the writing that doesn’t do the actor any favors, but his acting hasn’t

5) really drawn me in yet. A counterexample to this? Aunt Lydia. Her personality is despicable 98% of the time and yet. Dowd’s captivating performance makes me want to know so much more about her character.) On the other hand, I’m glad that June has someone (besides Rita) to back her up in that hellhole. She needs comfort and allies. But the whole ‘tRu Love 5eva" fanon thing? No, thanks. Not only it doesn’t fit the tone of the series, but I also believe that sharing an intense, forbidden love/

6) during such a shitstorm is not the same thing as keeping it alive after all is said and done (post-Gilead). Maybe they’ll stay together (as long as Nick doesn’t die), maybe they’ll fall apart. I can’t really see June romantically reconnecting with Luke either. After everything she’s been through… She’s a completely different person now. Unfortunately, the same things goes for Emily and her wife. Even though I’d love to see her interact with both her wife and her child in S3.

———

My inbox is so beautiful right now! Never, ever call yourself an idiot, my friend. (If you are, then so am I!) Brain twins, you see.

(Also sorry about this being out of order lol.)

I was trying not to talk about him too cos generally I just … I prefer not to think about him much. The fangirls, just, *sigh*. I try to avoid as much as possible in this fandom, esp on tumblr. Just hang out in my quiet little, not-Serena-hating corner. I always feel a need to put disclaimers these days cos as much as I don’t really care about random hate, I’d prefer not to have to deal with dogpiles or to look at it lmao. Like people can go around just hating on any character here–especially if they’re women–but say one critical (not even hateful) thing about their male fav and things just go off. 

I’m more than aware the majority of people don’t like Serena and think she’s the worst thing ever. And fair play! (I get it… cos I’m not delusional. She’s awful.) Each to their own. I don’t go around bitching at people who say shitty things or stuff I don’t agree with, or blocking anybody who doesn’t like her. (There are a few posts I do engage with cos normally they seem like they want to go deeper in The Discourse but most Serena/Lydia/Eden/Janine/June-hate I just ignore.)

ITA. S1 was, like, okay. That’s Nick. What’s he up to? What’s his deal? (I don’t really care but I’m not opposed to him either. Just like I didn’t care about Luke’s backstory/escape.) He’s trying to be good to June and she needs that.When we did learn his backstory I was not pleased cos he seemed like a twerp but whatevs. Grey characters are grey. It wasn’t until S2 that I started to get irked by him (and the hypocrisy of his fans but that’s a whole other issue). 

I can’t agree ANY more with your assessment of Nick. Like that’s EXACTLY what I’ve been saying! Firstly, he was RIGHT THERE when the Handmaid/Ceremony thing was first suggested and was like “Oh, yeah, great idea!” to Fred. I get that perhaps he was pressured to go along to keep his job but that’s a stretch imo, and if you can give him that sort of leeway, why can’t characters like Eden, Serena, Lydia and June get the same benefit of the doubt for certain things? Why is Nick’s pressure to keep his job more important and forgivable than anybody else’s pressures? It’s like that entire scene doesn’t exist to fangirls and Nick is so precious and in love and wonderful. Then there’s the rape of June. Like I know it’s pretty controversial to look at it that way, but that first time, with Serena overseeing it like a fucking creepy pimp (YUUUUUUCCCKKKKK I HATE IT THANKS) was rape. June barely knew the guy and I’m pretty sure if she wanted to have sex with him it wouldn’t be like that! And sure, after that, it was totally consensual but that first time was not. And I’ve heard the justification and excuses of “Well, Nick didn’t have a choice either!” which I call bullshit on, cos Nick is not some powerless delivery boy. 

He’s a fucking Guardian who is tight with the top Commanders. He’s a man, if nothing else. Serena can act all high and mighty but she’s still a woman in a highly misogynistic society. I’m not convinced Fred would take his wife’s word over Nick’s tbh, especially if it was like “Dude, your crazy wife asked me to fuck the Handmaid you’re obsessed with”. If he really didn’t want to do it that badly, he could have taken that chance to report Serena. Even if Fred wanted to keep it hush hush away from other Commanders, he would have gone after Serena. Men are far more likely to turn on women than each other, esp in THT. But that’s just my take. Maybe I am missing something about Nick’s status. To me, it was like double rape. Neither of them wanted to do it, like that anyway. But Nick also did fuck all to stop it when IMO he did have some power to do something. He is not a helpless victim in that society, imo. Again, probably not a well-received opinion. 

Don’t even get me started on his “Poor me!” routine in S2 when June tells him to have sex with Eden. I’m glad she called him on that bullshit. (But again, over the fangirls heads. Enough about them!)

Basically, everything Nick has done wrong isn’t his choice; he’s just a victim. In a story about women, Nick’s victimhood at the hands of these nasty women and men is the real issue. Blah. Whatever.

I just find Nick lacks total self-awareness about being part of the shitty ass system. He kind of just floats around thinking nothing is his fault and he’s blameless for it all, and he certainly can’t seem to see it from anyone’s perspective except his own. He’s upset about Fred & June’s Jezebel trips, not for her own safety or well-being but mainly he’s jealous. Of course he’s concerned about her safety but I believe it takes a backseat to his jealousy. He just seems to never take any responsibility for anything.

And BINGO about the previous Handmaid. Nothing we’ve been shown has given any hint he cares about any other woman’s plight in Gilead other than June, and only cares about her cos he had a crush/fucked her/is in wuv wiv her. Basically, she’s HIS so suddenly he cares about her. Look how fast he dumped that Martha as soon as he got brooding about June. He’s done fuckall for anybody except himself and that alone makes me dislike him. He’s no better than Fred in that way for me. But where Fred can occasionally be an interesting villain, cos Fiennes is nasty good, I find the actor who plays Nick just… not engaging. And he’s not SUPPOSED to be a villain! He’s meant to be a good guy! It’s crazy. He’s not compelling, he’s not interesting. He’s bland. He’s not even good looking, lol. I was watching with a friend once and mention I thought Fred was way better looking than Nick and she just stared at me and said, “You shouldn’t say that. But me too.” So, count me in the camp that just does not get the appeal of the character OR the actor.

I don’t hate Nick generally. I am just totally indifferent to his existence. If he left the show tomorrow, I’d shrug and probably be a little glad I don’t have to see that bland moping anymore. If he stays, oh well. Shrug. And I just don’t want his and June’s star-crossed romance shoved down my throat. It’s so… I dunno. I’m not opposed to June finding solace and hope but making it some beautiful forbidden romance, I’m not buying it. Like you said, it’s all well and good in Gilead–but it doesn’t strike me as something that can be sustainable outside it. To borrow from you last time: It’s the Handmaid’s Tale, not The Guardian + the Handmaid’s Tale.

Okay, enough about that pipsqueak. I don’t even like talking about him, tbh. He’s not worth it when there’s so much else going on.

ITA about Luke/June too. I feel like the level of disconnection and trauma that they’ve sustained, especially June, they can try to reconnect but it’s pretty difficult and I think especially with June having a sexual/romantic relationship with Nick pulls that really tight. It’s just two different planets they live on now. I don’t doubt that she still loves Luke, but actually reforming the relationship they previously had seems like an impossible task considering everything both of them have been through. It’s sad, but … sadly true for many people. Relationships can fall apart for far less.

And on the same page about Emily/Sylvia too. She is just soooooo fucking broken, and hopeless, that if they have them just rekindle with no issues, it’ll be bad writing. (I dunno if you see spoilers but there’s one about them.) She needs therapy so much more than a cutesy feelgood storyline.

Back to Lydia: Exactly! There’s a character we know very little about and who is a horrible person, yet the performance by Dowd makes almost everyone go, “TELL ME MORE!” With Nick, it’s the opposite for me. I’m just like, “Please, less of this.”

#Anonymous #rants and raves

[distant-rose]

1, 10, 16, 22 FOR SALTY ASKS, BITCH! xo

1. What OTPs in your fandom(s) do you just not get?

I’m going to say it and people are going to possibly fight me but Rumbelle. As someone who specializes in family and human rights law, it’s hard for me to watch because I feel like I’m watching one of my cases, particularly cases regarding Battered Women’s Syndrome where women are put through a cycle of abuse and affection that eventually leads to them snapping and killing their partners due to the constant fear that they feel. Granted, that didn’t happen on the show and I don’t think Adam & Eddy even have a clue what BWS is but it was the cycle that got me - the manipulation, the gaslighting and sometimes even trespass against the person via false imprisonment. (And yes, false imprisonment is categorized as trespass against the person in tort.) I constantly cringed while watching them mainly because it became clear many times that Rumple just doesn’t respect Belle’s autonomy and views her more as a coveted object than a partner.

Another is honestly…Kataang. I don’t find it abusive for the record or anything. And just a PSA out there for you, you CAN dislike a ship and not find it abusive, just saying. It’s more that I felt there wasn’t much chemistry for Aang and Katara. There was a serious maturity gap between them. I felt to me that Aang was always trying to hold on to his childhood and really not face issues unless they were pressing and he felt compelled too while Katara honestly acted more like an adult, which isn’t surprising considering the fact her mother died when she was young and she and Sokka were often left on their own because of the war. Katara really faced things head on and I feel like her actions towards Aang were more maternal than anything. @justanotherwannabeclassic and I have discussed this before but it feels like Katara was just a prize for Aang for saving the world and kinda lost her autonomy as person. She just became his girlfriend when she was a master fucking waterbender and I don’t think she would have been satisfied with just being a wife and mother, not that there is anything wrong with that but she’s very much into helping people and being a revolutionary - she was the fucking Painted Lady, c’mon now.

I could write an entire essay on these two and other ships but honestly this answer is long enough as is.

I’m gonna put my other answers under the cut because I have a lot of salt

10. Most disliked arc? Why?

Alana. Seriously. If I could, I would rewrite the entire Once Upon a Time show post-season three. There’s so many things I have an issue with in regard to OUAT but if I had to chose one and this is hard, but the entire Killian killed David’s Dad/Killian’s Realm Tour 2017. That story arc was bullshit, in fact most of season six was bullshit. Season five was also bullshit but I digress. Anyway, I think the whole issue of Killian killing Robert was fucking dumb and was just drama for drama’s sake because Adam and Eddy got lazy and apparently wrote the majority of their plots high, and not the good kind of high. Like the kinda high you get when you buy cheap ass marijuana from a sketchy street vender in Switzerland kinda high. That’s the minor beef I have with this arc, the main bit is the Emma moping and thinking Killian abandoned her nonsense. Girl, we just went through THREE SEASONS of crazy ass insanity where it was confirmed MANY times that Killian wasn’t ever going to leave her, loved her and would die like five hundred times for her. The fact that she immediately thought that he left instead of, maybe I don’t know, being kidnapped or hurt is just absurd to me. It’s fucking absurd. 

16. If you could change anything in the show, what would you change?

Oh god, where to do I fucking begin. Number one, I would have had a fucking real overarching plot for OUAT and I would have totally reworked seasons four through seven with more original spins. One of the things that attracted me to the show in the first place was how they took characters like Snow White and Little Red Riding Hood and they turned them on their heads and made them bad ass and unique. That didn’t seem to happen much post-season three. I would have changed Elsa and Anna up a bit instead of making them carbon copies of their movie selves. It would be something making Elsa morally grey and a boss ass political bitch who gives Regina a run for her money and make Anna an absolute tomboy who have no interest in being a princess but would rather be a flower child and walk around in the woods all day bare foot and incredibly strong because all she does is climb trees. I love the idea of playing Elsa off as winter and Anna as a spring. Work with that. That would have been an interesting thing. 

Also, I actually did not enjoy the author arc at all. I get the idea of playing around with the characters as inverse/opposites of their true natures but I just rolled my eyes a lot. I would have done an entirely different arc, maybe looked more at realm traveling or you know actually address whether people want to return to the Enchanted Forrest. Hell, I would have maybe even done something about the town line and whether the citizens of Storybrooke wanted to explore the outside world. 

Dark Swan was a wasted opportunity in my opinion and they really missed a chance to make Emma actually do some really crazy shit and you know confront some of the issues that had been buried under the rug in the past few seasons but that’s not biggest issue actually. I had more issues with the Underworld as a Greek mythology buff than I did with Dark Swan but how they did the Dark Ones thing could have been so much better. But Underworld deserves more of my beef. *sigh* That, personally to me, was a wasted arc creatively. Don’t get me wrong, I cried like a bit at the elevator scene but I feel like they should have gone more Greek myth than Disney Hades. I think I’ve said before to @katie-dub that it would have been more interesting if Hades wasn’t so much of an antagonist but more of someone who misleads them into thinking that Killian is in the worst part of the Underworld while he really isn’t, he’s either on the Asphodel Meadows and doesn’t remember her or in Elysium where he’s completely at peace and taking him back would pose more of a moral question for Emma on whether or not she should. 

We can all agree that seasons six is a train wreck right? I was a little annoyed at the timelines and the issues brought up in regard to Captain Swan. It seemed like they were issues that had been addressed or should have been addressed in previous seasons. I found the whole wedding thing super rushed. I would have been content if Captain Swan had more of background role drama-wise and maybe they actually used the wedding to really build on Emma and Snow’s relationship more because it had been strongly ignored. The Black Fairy was a wasted villain and Gideon wasn’t really necessary. Let’s be real, that final battle was a massive letdown and the last time I checked a TLK doesn’t save you from normal mortal wounding. I kinda wished they played around with the Untold Stories Thing a bit more in S6. I would have totally nixed the Wish Realm and the Musical Episode even though I liked the music. I just found a lot of their plots confusing, unnecessary and tired.

Okay, I didn’t watch a lot of season seven but I do have an issue with the recycling of plots and characters. I don’t mind Jacinda or Tilly/Alice but I found the whole recycle of Alice in Wonderland and Cinderella a sign that the creative well had run dry. I wish they had work with new material and stories such as the Labyrinth, Black Cauldron, Treasure Island, Atlantis or even fucking Enchanted. They could have also worked in on some of the legends from 1,001 Arabian Nights, worked more with Greek mythology particularly the Odyssey or the Argonauts. There’s a lot of creative things they could have done and just didn’t do. You’re welcome to like season seven and the characters it introduced but it just felt more like a money grab with incredibly lazy writing.

22. Popular character you hate?

I have a feeling a lot of people might unfollow me for this one but David Tennant’s Tenth Doctor. Like I’m sure not a lot of people have noticed this but I do not reblog anything with Ten in it. I know he’s everyone’s favorite and people love him and think he’s attractive but I actually hate his treatment of Rose, Martha and Donna as well as his weird space casanova act. I actually don’t really like Ten/Rose that much mainly because Ten doesn’t seem to have the same love and denotation for her that Nine did and was totally cool with leaving her and Mickey alone in a murder robot infested space in the 51st century to chase after Madame Pompadour. I don’t think the Ninth “I could save the world but lose you” Doctor would have done the whole “does it need saying?” and would have left Rose in Pete’s World with his clone without giving her a say. I was really irked by that. He whined about how much he missed Rose for TWO. WHOLE. FUCKING. SEASONS and when she came back, he’s like “here, have my clone and fuck off.” It bothered me so much and I think a lot of Rose hate is honestly based off Ten’s melodramatic ass and how he whined about missing Rose and made Martha feel inferior. Martha Jones was a fucking boss and didn’t deserve the shit he gave her. And then, we have Donna, poor Donna who didn’t get a choice at all in her fate. He chose it for her and that will never not bother me. Rose, Martha and Donna deserved more. End of story.

#asks #answered #starlessness #ro speaks #meme bullshit #salty asks #I AM A VERY SALTY PERSON #I'M NOT SORRY #personal

[hour13]

Fishbowl

Fishbowl

By Tim Carroll

I

           “Wanna know a secret?”  Persephone asked in a voice that was too loud for anyone but her to call it whispering.

           Margaret shrugged.  She felt that Persephone’s secrets were invariably either things that everyone already knew or things that she had just made up to feel special.  She looked over to see that Persephone was still staring at her expectantly.  

           “Fine,” Margaret whispered back, using actual whispers.  

           “Last night my grandma told me that the sky wasn’t always cracked.”

           Margaret looked up at the jagged web of fractures that stretched across the western plate-glass horizon of Dome 58.  Margaret shook her head, “Your grandma doesn’t know your name half the time.  I think she might have—”

           “No!” Persephone squealed, before remembering she was supposed to be whispering. “She said that one day a long time ago there was a loud bang.  She said that when she first saw the cracks they looked like a spider web and she was scared that there would be a giant spider who lived there and wanted to eat her!”

           Margaret shrugged, but Persephone continued in her non-whispery whisper, “She said everyone was scared, but then they weren’t allowed to talk about it.  The people at her school said that it was all normal and they whacked kids for discussing it.  And eventually everyone forgot that it wasn’t always there.”

           Margaret smiled at Persephone.  She had stopped scowling at her a long time ago-- it was too likely to make her cry. “That’s quite a story Pers.” Margaret replied causing Persephone to beam, “Now come on, we’re late to pick up our rations.”  

II

           It seemed like every aspect of the office of the director, from the old world paintings that covered the walls to the tapestry behind the desk, had been designed to awe visitors into a state of submission.  Simply walking through the door, Surveyor Peter Card felt like he had left behind the administrative offices of Dome 58’s town hall and stepped into another world.  A world that was run by the man sitting behind the desk, casually thumbing through an old world book – Director Edward Thornton.

           Peter approached the desk slowly, taking the time to admire the room’s centerpiece: A man-sized scale replica of Dome 58.  

           Peter figured that several years’ worth of art budget had gone into making the model.  Every detail had been perfectly attended to: tiny mothers walking to the birthing center, tiny children marching in double file lines behind the schools, and even a gaggle of people gathered outside the ration stations.  Somehow, the sculptors had even chiseled a perfect replica of the jagged crack across the western sky.

           Peter felt a shiver run down his spine as he looked at the crack.  If it were only a few millimeters deeper.

           Director Thornton flashed a grin at Peter as he approached, not breaking eye contact, the director grabbed the book off his desk and put it away on a small mahogany bookshelf.   Peter had never seen so many paper books outside of a museum or a picture of the old world.  Then the director got out of his chair and walked over to the surveyor.

            “Pete, how’re you doing?” he chuckled, clapping Peter on the back, “Take a seat.”

           Peter tried not to flinch.  He wondered if Director Thornton was this liberal with back pats and nicknames to everyone he called into his office.  He must be. Or maybe Peter truly was as special as Director Thornton claimed.  

           “Sir,” Peter began, as he pulled out the seat in front of the desk “Have you—”

           “Slow down,” Thornton smiled, “Would you like a drink first?  Some water?  Tea?”

           Peter gulped, “No, sir.  Thank you, sir.  If it’s all the same to you--”

           “Enough with this ‘sir,’” Director Thornton interrupted, as he sat down on the imposing chair behind the desk, “I get enough of sir.  Call me Ed.”

           Peter swallowed again. “Okay… Ed.” Peter paused and, sensing no impending interruption, continued, “Have you had the time to review my report?”

           The director tapped the black top of his desk, revealing it to be one massive touchscreen.  Almost instantly, every chart, figure, and equation detailed in Peter’s 30-odd page report appeared on the surface.  “Very impressive work, Pete.” Thornton mused, “I knew you were the right man for the job. That said, are you positive of your conclusions?”

           Peter nodded. “I would bet my life on them.  The cracks are not as stable as they appear and are growing at a rate of roughly 2 centimeters a year.  You told me that decontamination was causing the Earth’s atmosphere to rise in temperature. If this is true, and assuming that the temperature will continue to increase at a constant rate, additional thermal stress will be placed upon the dome, causing the rate of fracture to increase exponentially.   There’s too many unknowns for an exact prediction, especially since perfect measurement of the conditions outside the dome is impossible, but you’re looking at a 60% chance that the dome will be breached in the next forty years.”

           Director Thornton nodded, his smile drifting away, “Your report also says that there is roughly a twelve percent chance of no breach occurring in the next hundred years.”

           “Yes, but considering the low probability of that scenario, I think we would be far safer ignoring it.  I was hoping we could use this meeting to discuss exactly how repair would be implemented.  I would be more than happy assisting whatever team you choose for the job.  Seeing as the rate of fracture is unpredictable, I think we should try and start as soon as possible.”

           “Let me stop you there, Pete.” Director Thornton said, as he jabbed his finger at the section labeled Repair Costs.   “Pete, don’t take this the wrong way.  I consider you a friend, and you’re obviously the best engineer we have here, but it’s clear you’re not a budgeter.  And that’s not your fault.”

           “Sir…, I mean, Ed.  I don’t understand.  This is the dome we’re talking about, I don’t think we can take half measures. ”

           “Pete, looking at your report you seem to suggest we should use close to the entirety of Dome 59’s stock of formaldehyde in order to synthesize this Cy… Cyano…”  Director Thornton fumbled on the word,

           “Cyanoacryllate,” Pete finished, “It’s a type of glue. One that should be able to hold the dome together until decontamination is done.”

           “Pete, your heart, and much more importantly, your brain, are both in the right place here.  But I can’t authorize using the entirety of our formaldehyde supplies.  We need that for several other construction projects as well as producing a variety of medications.  You’re going to need to bring these costs down.”

           “Director, I have brought those costs down.  Frankly, our stores are insufficient for the type of more permanent repairs we should be doing.  The Cyanoacryllate we have will be sufficient for only repairs of the most major cracks. There’s still going to be a non-negligible rate of fracture.”  

           The Director shook his head, “I don’t know what to tell you Pete, you’re going to have to find a way to make it work.”

           Before Peter could protest, there was a loud knock on the door and a woman poked her head in. “Director Thornton, your next meeting is here.”

           “Give me a minute, Martha.”  Director Thornton shouted, before turning his gaze back to Peter. “Pete, I want to be on your side here, but I just can’t authorize that kind of expenditure, you’re going to have to make do with what we have. I have complete faith in you.”

III

           The doctors called it Constrained Habitat Induced Insanity.  Those who were less sensitive called it “Domentia.”

           Due to structural constraints, it had been much easier for the failing governments of Earth to construct hundreds of smaller domes before the Great Contamination instead of a few larger ones.   As a result, dome residents would spend their lives surrounded by the same 2,000 or so people in the same 10 or so mile radius.  For most domers, that was good enough.  But for some, the monotony was maddening.

           Allison’s birth mother had had Domentia.  Her mother had stayed up late at night, rocking herself to sleep, and staring at the horizon as though a creature might come out of the inky blackness and take her far away.  Even now, years after she’d been taken to the sanitarium, Allison could still hear the screaming rants in the back of her mind.  

           It was those same screaming rants that had driven Allison to pursue a job in the office of communications.  In this office, Allison knew she was never truly alone.  Everywhere else in Dome 58, interdome communication was strictly forbidden. But from her desk, Allison could send text-based messages to communicators in over a dozen other domes, brokering trade deals and discussing what life was like over a hundred miles of radioactive desert away.

           Allison smiled as she reflected on an interesting tidbit she had learned this morning. Apparently, the director of Dome 42 was trying to legalize bigamous family units so that he could take his mistress as a second wife.  Allison was typing a reply to her friend in Dome 42, when she heard a knock on the steel door behind her.  

           “Come in,” she shouted, without turning away from her desk. Reflected on her computer screen, Allison could see a blond-haired boyish face poking through the doorway.  

           “Hey, Ally,” the man said, “was wondering if you’d had your lunch yet.”  

           “Hey, John.” Allison replied, “I’m busy today.  Decided I would save my midday rations for a bigger dinner. You peacekeepers haven’t made that illegal have you?”

           “Not yet,” John replied, sauntering into the room, “But it could be argued that you working yourself to death is a seditious act against the office of communications, seeing as they’d never get on without you.”

           “Wow,” Allison whistled, “You give a peacekeeper a gun and suddenly he’ll look for any excuse to arrest someone.”  She gestured to the conspicuous holster on John’s hip, a sign that he’d graduated the academy with flying colors.  

           “Hey,” John chuckled, “First of all it’s not a gun…”

           “Really?” Allison asked, eyeing the pistol-shaped device, “It looks like a gun from here.”

           “It’s a dart launcher.” John clarified, “Bullets cause too much collateral damage and are too inconsistent.  A touch of one of these neurotoxin darts and a criminal will be dead in a few seconds.”

           “Doesn’t that strike you as a little risky?” Allison asked, “Isn’t a few seconds long enough for someone to pull a trigger of their own?”

           “That’s why they only give dart launchers to peacekeepers and not to every person who wants to steal some rations.  Speaking of which, you sure you don’t have time for a bite?”

           Allison shook her head, “Sorry, babe.  I’m going to be communicating with Dome 78 in a few minutes.  Their communicator is a friend actually, and I’m negotiating an important trade deal with him.”

           “Oh really, what are they sending to us?”  

           “Fertilizer,” Allison replied, turning back to her keyboard, “and if you want there to be a steady supply of vegetables in your rations for years to come, chances are you’re going to want me to have this conversation.”

           “Shame,” John said, as he walked out of the room, “Maybe next time.”  

           “Maybe,” Allison replied, as she flexed her fingers and got back to work.

IV

           Director Thornton whistled a soft tune to himself as he walked out of the town controller office for the evening.

           Without warning, he heard the sound of someone charging at him from behind. With a practiced casual air, he reached into his jacket and fingered the remote he kept inside it.  With a single button press, a team of security officers would be at his location within two minutes.  

           A second before he squeezed the remote, he turned to see that his would-be attacker was none other than Peter Card, the surveyor.  

           “Pete!” He said, forcing a smile as he moved his hand out of his jacket pocket, “What are you doing here so late?”

           “Sir…” Pete panted, “I had… an idea for the situation.”

           Director Thornton checked for anyone who might be listening before leaning in. “I think this is a very serious matter to discuss in a public place.”  

           Pete turned his head to the left and right before craning his head in for a whisper, “I think I know a solution, and I just need you to set me up with someone discreet from the office of communications.”

           Ed swallowed hard. “And why would you need that?”

           “We may have finite formaldehyde stores, but there certainly are other domes with their own.  Or possibly even the means of producing more.  I’m not sure what we have to trade but if you give me—”

           “Pete. Pete. Pete.” Director Thornton interrupted, “We’re supposed to be a self-sufficient community.  We can’t be asking other domes for their crucial supplies.”

           “Sir, we already participate in goods exchanges with at least a half-dozen other domes.  Certainly there are some luxuries we could offer them in exchange for formaldehyde. Even a 20% increase in our stores would vastly improve our long term structural integrity.”

           “Pete.” Director Thornton said sternly, “I told you to find a way to make it work.  You’re going to need to find a way to repair the breach with the stores you have.”

           “But sir…”

           “I’m sorry, Pete. I have to go.” The director said as he walked towards the waiting car, “If you wish to have another meeting, schedule it with my secretary.”

V

           Margaret stared at the half-written report on her desk and sighed.  It was supposed to be two written pages about why Dome 58 – with its job of maintaining the human population after the Great Contamination - was critically important, and what she as a citizen could do to help ensure that that mission was completed.  Personally, she’d always wished she had been born into one of the decontamination domes so she could actually help make the Earth livable again, but instead she was stuck here waiting for… nothing.  

           She heard the sound of footsteps behind her and turned to see her mom carrying a plate of beef-flavor rations over.  Her mom flashed a smile, “How’s the report coming, pearl?”

           “Not too well.”  Margaret replied, “I just think there’s only so much I can do to help Dome 58.”

           “Well there’s a lot you can do, hon.” Her mother replied, “Did you mention that you could volunteer as a birthmother,” she said gesturing to her growing belly.  

           Margaret nodded, though the idea of carrying a tiny baby inside her tummy always somewhat scared her. What if it bit on something important?  

           Margaret shook her head, and looked at her mother, “Hey, mom, can I ask you a weird question.”

           “What is it, baby?”

           Margaret turned to look at her mother, “Did the sky always have a big crack in it?”

           “Of course, pearl, why would you ask such a silly question?”

           “It’s just, Persephone said something today—”

           “That girl says all kinds of silly things.  Between you and me, I don’t think the teachers are doing a very good job with her.  Radical ideas like hers are what got Earth into this mess.”

           “Yeah…” Margaret said, “I thought so…”

           “Anyway, let me know if you need any more help.” Her mother smiled, “You’re a smart girl.  I’m sure you’ll figure everything out.”

VI

           John awoke to the sound of faint tapping beside him. His eyes peeked open, and he looked over at Allison, the curve of her back silhouetted by the light of the tablet on her lap.  

           “Ally,” he mumbled, as he moved closer to her.

           “Go back to sleep,” she said patting him on the head,

           “You first,” he teased.

           Allison smiled, and resumed scrolling on her tablet.  

           “If you have so much work you’re doing it past midnight, you can probably tell your superiors. You’d at least qualify for more rations.”

           “Not work,” she shook her head, “Not exactly.”

           John yawned loudly.  “And it can’t wait for the morning?”

           “I was talking to Claude from Dome 42 this morning.”

           “Your friend?” John asked.

           “I thought he was, but I referenced some of our old jokes today and he acted like he had no idea what I was talking about.”

           “Sorry, babe.” John yawned, leaning back on his pillow. “I don’t think everyone has your memory.”  

           “I think it’s more than him being forgetful.  I’m looking back at our chat logs. Sometimes he seems like a completely different person.”

           “Babe, I… respect you… a lot.” John replied, “but maybe we can discuss this in the morning?”

           Allison sighed, set down her tablet, and rested her head on John’s chest. “Fine, we’ll talk in the morning.”

           John opened his mouth to reply, but he was asleep before any words came out.

VII

           Allison – Dome 58 Communicator has signed on. [12:58:14]

           Rebecca – Dome 46 Communicator has signed on.  [1:01:15]

Allison 58: This is Allison Dome 58. Do you read me? [1:02:36]

Rebecca 46: This is Rebecca Dome 46. I read you Allison. [1:02:52]

Allison 58: Security Check, what is your favorite color? [1:03:36]

Rebecca 46: What? [1:05:02]

Allison 58: We have had a problem with security recently.  [1:05:13]

Allison 58: Asking personal questions to confirm identity [1:05:23]

Allison 58: What is your favorite color? [1:05:58]

Allison 58: Did you not tell me this during our communication two weeks ago? [1:06:44]

Rebecca 46: Oh, right. [1:06:56]

Rebecca 46:  Rebecca Purple.  Like my name. [1:10:11]

Allison 58: Why the delay? [1:10:31]

Rebecca 46: Apologies. My boss walked in and had a question for me. [1:11:52]

Rebecca 46: She does not remember approving a security check. [1:12:08]

Rebecca 46:  So can we please talk about the trade? [1:12:33]

Allison 58: Sure, just one more question.  Where did you meet your husband? [1:12:59]

Allison 58:  Rebecca? [1:15:04]

Rebecca 46: My apologies. Boss came in again. There’s been an incident.  Will get back to you about my husband soon.  [1:17:03]

           Allison reclined back in her chair, massaging her temples.  Eight months ago, Rebecca from Dome 46 had adamantly insisted that she had not and would never marry.

VIII

           Director Thornton reclined back in his bathtub, scrolling through a briefing on his tablet. Bathtubs were technically a luxury that was only afforded to families of five or greater. But then again, if the position of Director didn’t have any benefits, Edward seriously doubted that anyone would apply for it.  

           Suddenly there was a pounding at the bathroom door. Director Thornton’s head jerked back, and nearly collided with the tile wall.  Steadying himself, he reached for his bathrobe.  

           “Martha?” He asked.  It wasn’t truly a question.  His secretary was the only other person with a key, and Thornton sincerely doubted anyone would be foolish enough to rob the home of the director. Clad in his royal blue bathrobe, Thornton opened the door.  Martha was standing on the other side, holding a pair of caffeine pills in one hand and a hanger with a suit dangling from it on the other.

           She looked at him sternly.  “We have a situation.”

 X

           Clad in black, Allison snuck through the bushes outside the office of the communicator.  She’d spent the past week-and-a-half staking out the building and watching the patterns of the guards’ movements.  Granted, the term ‘guards’ might have been a little generous.  Half of the night watch were asleep, and a third more spent the night either reading or playing games on their tablets.  

           Before she had left work six hours ago, Allison had left one of the first floor bathroom windows open a crack.  Resting her back against the wall, she wormed her fingers into that small crack and lifted the window to create an Allison-sized opening.  Once she was satisfied, she slid into that egress and closed the window behind her.

           Allison crept to the bathroom door and opened it a fraction of an inch. She saw the lone night watchman walking about twenty meters in front of her. Gritting her teeth, she closed the door and counted to thirty.  When she reopened it, he was gone.

           With each step she reminded herself not to sprint. Her heart was pounding and she could feel the sweat pooling under her black gloves.  This was her last chance to turn back. No, she told herself, I need to be here. I need to KNOW.  

           Allison made her way to the staircase and began descending until she reached the steel door to sub-level four.    She pulled out an ID card she had swiped from her boss’s desk when he hadn’t been looking and waved it in front of the scanner.  A half-second later, the red light turned to green.  With a beep and a mechanical hiss, the door swung open.  

           Allison crept inside and let out a long exhale, there wouldn’t be any guards in this room, so she could take her time.

           This room was supposed to be empty.  It was meant as an unloading dock for the ships that came in from other domes.    Dome 58 hadn’t received a trade in over a week, and yet the room was stacked floor to ceiling with crates.  Allison ran to a stack of crates labeled “Dome 75” and lifted the lid.  It was filled to the brim with medical supplies that she had negotiated a trade for on that very morning.  

           Allison dragged her gloved forefinger across the top box.  There was a thin layer of dust.  

           Allison spent the next half hour searching the room. All of the mechanisms for opening the docking bay to the outside air had been disabled and were covered in dust.  Even if there had been space for a trading ship to dock, there was no way for it to get in.

           Not that Dome 58 needed any supplies. All the trade goods she had negotiated for in the past month were already here.

           Had always been here, she realized.   All of the seemingly random things her supervisors had told her to ask for, hadn’t been random at all. They were planned out to create the illusion of trade with other domes.  Other domes that might not even exist.

           Allison shivered.  For the first time in her life, she felt alone.  

XI

           Margaret walked to the education center in a sleep-deprived daze.  She and her mother had been up two hours past curfew the previous night writing a list of ways she could benefit Dome 58 by stepping up as a birth mother.  Her mother had insisted that it wasn’t really lying; Margaret would feel that way eventually.  She just didn’t yet.

           Half-asleep, Margaret nearly walked directly into Persephone, stopping a second before she smashed into her classmate.  

           “Sorry,” Margaret mumbled, “I didn’t—” Margaret gasped. One of Persephone’s teeth was chipped, and there was a large cut under her right eye.

           “What happened to you?”

           “I…” Persephone stuttered. “I tripped.”

           “Are you okay? Should you even—”

           “I’m fine,” Persephone nearly shouted, “It’s just I need you to know something.”

           “What?”

           “All that stuff about the Dome yesterday…”

           Margaret nodded, “About how the sky wasn’t always cracked?”

           Persephone seemed to flinch at the words.  “I made it all up.” Persephone whispered, really whispered “It’s always been cracked.”  A tear rolled down her cheek. “Don’t tell anyone anything else. You might get in trouble.”

            “Sure, Pers.” Margaret nodded, as she rested a hand on her classmate’s back, “It’s fine. I never really believed you anyway.”

XII

           John sat on the bench in Pleasant Park and stared up at the dome.  The bench used to be his and Allison’s bench.  But John was beginning to doubt whether he and Allison were even a… well whatever they had been.  The two of them hadn’t shared a meal, much less spent a night together, in the past couple weeks.  

           John sighed and kicked a rations wrapper absentmindedly.  He’d been considering talking to her about filing for cohabitation, but now…  

           John crushed the empty paper cup in his hand and threw it at the nearby trashcan, missing the rim by nearly a foot. He considered getting up to pick up the trash when the radio on his hip sprang to life.

           “Attention all units!” The metallic voice squeaked, “This is a code 4.  Is anyone in Rim Sector 6!”  

           John pushed away thoughts of Allison and grabbed the receiver.   “This is Peacekeeper Mulligan, I’m in Pleasant Park. What’s the trouble?”

           “Roger Peacekeeper Mulligan.   An unknown figure has been spotted walking along the dome catwalks.” The voice barked, “Unclear what he is doing up there.  Investigate and report immediately.  This is a priority one objective.”

           “Copy.” John replied, as he pushed himself to his feet and began jogging to the cast-iron catwalks that butted up against the glass dome that surrounded the community.

           In theory, no one was supposed to go up there without passing a pair of guards, and the presence of a man on those catwalks represented a massive threat to the community.  In practice.  John was willing to bet several weeks’ worth of extra rations that a guard – equal parts bored and stupid – wanted to see the view during his coffee break and forgot to clear it with a supervisor.  

           Ten minutes later, John arrived at the catwalk access station.  John knocked twice on the steel door before electing to let himself in.  

           “Hello, my name is Peacekeeper Mullig---“ John stopped midsentence, and swore as he reached for his radio.

           “This is Peacekeeper Mulligan!” John barked into his radio, as he fumbled to check the two unconscious guards for a pulse,  “I’m at catwalk access station R,  both guards have sustained head injuries.  Both unconscious.  Requesting immediate medical support.  Requesting immediate backup!”

           For ten seconds that stretched into an eternity there was only silence.  

           “This is Peacekeeper Mulligan!” John repeated, “I am at catwalk access station R—“

           “We hear you Peacekeeper Mulligan!”  The voice on the other end of the line interrupted, “Backup and medical are on route!  Apprehend the figure on the catwalk.  Deadly force authorized.  Do you copy?”

           John swallowed a mouthful of air down his suddenly dry throat. “Deadly force authorized,” wasn’t a phrase he had ever actually expected to hear on the job.  Let alone directed at him.

           “Peacekeeper Mulligan.  Do you—“

           “I copy,” John replied as grabbed the dartgun from the holster on his waist and began climbing the uncomfortably titled steel stairs that led up to the side of the Dome.   After going up three stories, John saw a figure.   “Mystery man spotted.” John panted into his radio, “Engaging now.”

           “Roger, Peacekeeper Mulligan!”

           With the dartgun clutched in his sweat-slick hands, John approached the dark figure.  His boots clacked on the metal catwalk with each step, but the suspect didn’t seem to notice until John was only about a half a dozen meters away. The man appeared to be fiddling with a device that was affixed to the glass wall of the dome.  John was no expert, but it looked uncomfortably like an explosive.  

           “Suspect!” John shouted, “You are in violation of Dome 58 code.  Step away from the device and surrender yourself!”  

           The man turned and looked at John.  

           John gasped.  “Allison?”

           “John…” Allison replied, “I’m sorry. I didn’t know how to tell you…��

           “What the hell are you doing, Ally.  This isn’t like you.  What is that machine.”

           “It’s not a machine, John.” Allison said, holding up a detonator, “It’s a bomb.”

           “Good lord, Ally.” John replied, “What the hell will this accomplish?”

           “There aren’t any other domes, John.”

           John tilted his head to the side, “What?”

           “The other domes, they’re all lies.  They don’t exist.  All the ‘clean-up domes’ we learned about in school were made up.”

           “Then why blow up this dome?” John shouted, “This one is real!”  John took a step forward.

           “Don’t come any closer,” Allison shouted, holding up the detonator. “Don’t you get it, John? Everything is a lie. There aren’t any heroes out there cleaning the earth.  All the sacrifices we make, all the rationing, all the forced families. It’s all for nothing!  There will never be a clean earth!  We are just living to die!”

           “Allison, please, come home!” John pleaded, “We can go home!”            “We’re not people, John…” Allison replied, tightening her grip, “We’re… guppies… guppies in a fishbowl!  Living for nothing!”

           “Allison…” John pleaded

           “I can’t live like this!” Allison sobbed, “I can’t live knowing that it’s all pointless!”

           “But I can, John replied, “Other people can.

           “They’ve…” Allison sobbed, “They’ve broken you. All of us. They’ve made us think it’s okay to live in submission.  They’ve played god with our lives.  We’re not even people John!  My mother was right!”

           “Your mother was nuts!” John shouted,

           “NO, John…” Allison said, suddenly quiet. “She was sane.  And now I am too…”

           “Allison, please!” John said, lifting his gun, “Don’t make me do this.”

           “I need to do this, John.” Allison sobbed, as she held up the detonator.

           “NO!” John screamed, as he squeezed down on the trigger.  A sharp hiss of air brushed against his hand as a trio of darts sped into Allison’s stomach.   Allison stumbled backward, her face twisting as the neurotoxin coursed through her system.

           And then, with a final breath, she pushed the button.  

XIII

           Even now, through the swelling and blood in his eyes, the office of the director still looked dazzling to Peter.  The two men, practically towers of muscle, standing beside him each held one of his arms in a stranglehold.  The two of them nodded reverentially as Director Thornton entered the room.    

           “Pete, Pete, Pete…” The director tsked, “I thought we were friends.”

           “Do you lie to the faces of all your friends?” Pete asked, spitting equal parts saliva and blood onto the carpet.

           “I do, in fact.”  Director Thornton responded, “It’s the price I pay for being director.”

           “Yeah, you sound real broken up about it.”

           “I have learned to cope,” Director Thornton responded as he poured himself a drink. “With the lies, the secrets.  And speaking of secrets.” The director took a long sip, “We let you in on a major secret when we told you the truth about the crack in the dome.  And now my men are telling me that you broke into the office of communications.  We trusted you, Pete.  And to abuse that trust…”

           “You didn’t trust me.”  Peter snapped, “You lied to me – to everyone – from birth.  You think telling me one truth makes up for that?”  Peter paused to catch his breath, “Was it even one truth? How did the dome really break?”

           Director Thornton sighed, “I supposed there’s no point in secrets, now.  Roughly seventy-five years ago, a terrorist named Allison Graham detonated a bomb while standing on the catwalks only a few meters away from the glass.  The dome held, obviously.  If it hadn’t, I doubt any of us would be here now.”

           “Why’d she do it?”

           “According to the officer at the scene, she’d leaned the truth about all the other domes that we had been in contact with.  The truth that I have been tasked with keeping from both you and the rest of the citizens of my dome.”

           “So, what is the truth?”  Peter asked, “Why aren’t they talking to us?’

           Director Thornton shook his head, “One hundred and forty years ago – roughly a quarter of a century after the great contamination - we actually were in contact with all the other domes.  And we truly did trade supplies with them.  However, for reasons unknown, the domes around us starting going dark, stopped sending supplies and communications.  Over the course of about two weeks, we lost contact with every other dome.”

           If the two men holding Peter’s arms were surprised by this information in any way, they didn’t show it.  Peter looked at their impassive faces, and then back to the director.  “What happened to the other domes?”  

           Director Thornton took another long sip of his brandy and shook his head. “We have no idea.  The domes went dark so suddenly that we didn’t have any time to do anything other than speculate. The last few domes we were in contact with didn’t seem to know any more than we did.”  

           “We have ships though.”  Peter responded, “Why didn’t we send them out to investigate?            “Why do you assume we didn’t?”  The director asked, “We sent out two ships.  One to Dome 75, one to Dome 46.  Those vessels never came back.  Seeing as are last few ships are irreplaceable assets, my predecessors decided to call off the search instead of risking more of them.  For the sake of preventing mass panic, we’ve kept this information from the general public.  However, the leaders of Dome 58 have spent the last century under the assumption that we are the single last surviving dome.”  

           Peter resisted the urge to vomit.  “But Dome 58’s not a decontamination dome.  We have none of the tools to purify the planet’s air or water.  That means…”

           “Yes,” Director Thornton responded, “If we truly are the last surviving Dome, then there is no one else who has the tools or knowledge necessary to restore the Earth to its previous state..”

           “But if that’s the case… if we’re all that’s left… then you need to fix the cracks”  Pete pleaded, “You need my plan.”  

           “You are correct, your plan for fixing the dome is absolutely necessary. More than you could have ever known.”  The director sighed and finished off his drink,  “However, you are not necessary.  Quite the opposite in fact.”  Director Thornton slid open a nearly invisible compartment in a bookshelf and withdrew a peacekeeper dartgun. “Thank you for your designs, Mr. Card. Rest assured, they will be put to good use.”  

           “Wait!” Peter shouted, as Thornton pulled the trigger. Peter continued to protest, his words slurring together as his body slumped to the ground like a ragdoll.  

           “Get him out of here,” Director Thornton told the two guards, as he returned to his desk.  

           The director waited until the two men were out of sight before pouring himself another tall drink.

 XIV

           Consciousness came back to John far too quickly.  One second he was lying on the catwalk, watching the spider web of cracks spread out over him. The next second, he was… well certainly not on the catwalk. He was in a bed, staring up at a featureless white tile ceiling.

           As his mind replayed the memories of the explosion- as if on cue – the aches spread down his body. With a grunt of exertion, John propped himself up on the bed and began to look around. It wasn’t heaven. Either that or Heaven looked exactly like the inside of Dome 58’s hospital.  And the man in the corner looked a lot like Director Sanders.

           “Director…” John grunted?

           “You can call me Jim if you want.”  The Director said, as he poured a glass of water from a plastic pitcher and handed it to John “Take this, the doctors said to get water in your as soon as you were awake.”

           “Thanks…” John panted, “Jim…”

           The Director – Jim – pulled up a chair and sat down next to John. “Peacekeeper Mulligan – may I call you John?”

           John nodded.

           “The doctors also told me that I should get them as soon as you were awake.  But unfortunately there’s a conversation that truly cannot wait.  Do you understand?”

           John nodded again, as he downed the glass of water. Jim reached for the pitcher, but John shook his head. “I’m good…” he muttered.

           “You’re far more than good, John.”  The director replied, “If the accounts I’ve heard are to be believed, you are truly extraordinary.”  

           “Is the dome…?” John began

           “The glass barrier is fine.” The director answered, “There’s a few more cracks in it than there used to be.  But it’s still holding.”

           John let out a sigh of relief. “And… Allison?” John asked, but in his gut he already knew the answer.

           Jim shook his head. “I’m sorry, John.  She… she passed in the explosion.  You have my condolences, I understand the two of you were somewhat close.  

           “We…” John began, “I guess we were...  I don’t know…”

           The director raised his hand.  “I won’t pry if you don’t want me to.  I know it’s always a shock to friends and family when these things happen.  However, there is something we do need to discuss about it.”

           “Don’t worry,” John said, lying back down, “You’ll have your full incident report once I’m out of this bed.”  

           “Actually, John, there’s no need for that.”

           With a groan, John pushed himself into an upright position. “I beg your pardon, sir?”

           “Peacekeepers have recovered a detailed suicide note from Allison’s residence, which I now have in my custody. The things Allison wrote down…” Jim shook his head, “There would be pandemonium if people knew.”    

           John lifted his eyebrows. “Knew what?”

            The director titled his head. “I don’t understand…”

           “What things don’t you want the people to know?” John asked, “Do you not want them to know that a woman with a bomb nearly shattered the dome? Or do you not want them to know that that woman believed… believed there weren’t any other domes.”

           “Peacekeeper Mulligan,” The director began, “You have an exemplary record of service. And taking a wound in the line of duty is something that we notice at the office of the director.  It’s the type of thing that lets us know who we can trust.  Who we can put on the fast track for promotion. Do you understand my meaning?”

           John looked at the director as though through a haze, “Just tell me two things. “

           “I’ll do my best.”

           “No, don’t do your best.” John replied, “Just tell me the truth.”  John looked the director in the eyes. “Was my girlfriend – was Allison – ever truly in contact with any other domes?”

           The director shook his head. “No, she only talked to actors.  People within the circle of trust.”

           John nodded. “The second thing.  If I don’t cooperate, are you going to kill me?”

           The director sighed. “You must understand, John, there are realities here that can’t be ignored.  You’ve seen yourself what this knowledge can do to people.  To good people, like Ms Graham.  It’s not pleasant, but it’s what we have to do.  You do understand, don’t you, John.”  

           John closed his eyes and lay back down against the pillow, “I understand perfectly.”

           The director smiled, “I’m glad, John.”

           “So… Jim,” John said, not bothering to open his eyes, “Could you do me a favor?”  

           “Certainly, John.” The director replied, “What do you need?”

           “Can you make it quick?”

           “Make what qui… oh… I understand.”  Director Sanders rose from the chair and withdrew a dartgun from the inner pocket of his suit.  “Thank you for your service, Peacekeeper Mulligan.”

           It was quick.    

XV

           It was 3:00, and the shouts of the hordes of children leaving the education centers reverberated against the glass windows of Director Thornton’s office.  Ed sighed and stared at the mountain of paperwork on his desk.  If he hunkered down, he estimated he would be able to get it done before 7:00.  The director reached for the next reacquisition form and sighed.  Finishing the last of his brandy, the director pushed himself away from his desk and headed to the door.  

           Martha eyed him as he was leaving, “Taking an early night?” she asked.

           “Just something I need to see.”  The Director responded, as he headed out onto the streets of Dome 58.  

           Ed’s driver, a redheaded woman in her thirties, stood up as he approached, but Ed gestured to signal that her services wouldn’t be needed.  “I need a walk anyway,” he muttered, not sure if she could hear. She had already returned to playing a card game on her tablet.

           It was a two mile walk to Pleasant Park, but Director Thornton was out of breath when he arrived.  Perhaps he truly did need the exercise.  Director Thornton walked to his favorite bench, the one that had the letters “AG & JM” etched into the side inside of a heart.  Director Thornton sat down on the bench and stared up at the crack in the dome.  From this vantage point it was so large it nearly dominated the crimson sky.  

           Before he even knew what he was doing, the director grabbed his tablet and opened up Surveyor Card’s – Pete’s – project.  He scrolled down to the conclusion section. The tables and graphs were crystal clear, so easy even a pencil pusher like him could understand them.

           With the entirety of the available stores of cyanoacrylate, used in exactly the right places, they could reduce the chance of the dome breaking in the next hundred years to just thirty-two percent.

           The director sighed.  Thirty-two percent.  

           It would have to do.  

Author’s Notes

·        It’s good to be back.  Life has made writing a bit more difficult this year, but I’m still very pleased with how this story turned out.

·        I believe this is my first story to completely unambiguously pass the Bechdel Test.  

·        The fact that Margaret’s mother calls her pearl is a pun.  Margaret is Greek for “pearl.”

·        This story was inspired by the idea of a tryptich.  Which is usually three stories or poems centered around one topic.  I planned to do a triple tryptich, nine chapters, alternating between the three plotlines. Once it became clear that the story was too big for that, I turned it into the fifteen chapter mess that it is now.  Margaret and Persephone’s arc however still works as a tryptich.

·        Ed Thornton was an interesting character, one who I wish I could have done more with.  It’s not a coincidence that he and his predecessor, Jim Sanders, both use pretty much the same manipulation tactics on John and Peter.  I’d imagine that each director has been groomed by the one before into being a master manipulator who doesn’t question the status quo.

·        I don’t think Ed’s a sympathetic character, but I do sympathize with him to an extent.  Not many of the options he’s presented with are good ones. I don’t believe he was lying to Peter during their final confrontation and I do think he saw the killing as absolutely necessary. I think lying and manipulation are things that have become so normalized to him that he legitimately doesn’t see another way out.

#short story #tim carroll #hour13 #fiction #prose #dystopia #dystopian #science fictiion #writing

[sattickate]

Heathers: The Television Pilot

So I watched the pilot for the Heathers show yesterday. It's not faithful to the original film at all. like it goes in a completely different direction - more SJW than maintaining the "status quo" like in the film, that said, I didn't hate it.

I won't be watching the rest of the series because it's not my thing. It's Heathers in concept only, not plot. It does make some references to the original (quoting famous lines, big fun is a chip brand, the new happiness posters, the original score), but it very much is a departure from the film. And it is for that reason that I can't place it on the same level as the film or even the musical. 

Though it's not outright terrible, it's not a cult classic from and set in the late 80s. This show may be "just" but it is so not "very".

(via my facebook page)

Naturally, I have a lot of opinions on Heathers, the television show. I say naturally because the film is my favourite movie of all-time. And, although I recorded a video commentary/analysis/comparison of the show in relation to the film and musical, I have no idea when I’ll get around to editing that or exactly how clear and concise my opinions will be.  So, going back to the medium at which I’m best, let me take the time to go into more detail about the show so far, my opinions on it in relation to the source material and the musical and how it would be as a stand-alone show. Future Katey coming to tell you that I did edit the video and here’s the link to watch it. 

Spoiler alert below the cut as I will be going into detail of the events of the entire pilot (as well as the film and music as a whole but if you haven’t seen those where have you been?). 

If you’d like a plot summary but don’t actually want to watch the episode.

TL;DR: below the cut, my analysis may be quite long so be prepared to read a lot.

Let’s just clarify some things right off the bat, the show is set in 2017/2018, not in 1988 as was the film (or in ‘89 like the musical). The slang has been updated to fit the time, for example, ‘very’ becomes ‘just’. References are made to the original film: big fun is now a brand of chips, there are “the New Happiness” posters hung on the walls of the school, some dialogue from the film is recycled or repurposed for the show, and (my favourite nod to the film) some of the original film score has been used (or slightly updated) for the show. [This last thing is a very minute detail, but I am such a sucker for the film’s score, so I appreciated that little touch.]

The opening is a bit graphic, to say the least.

Eight years prior to the main events of the episode, we are introduced to an adult woman in a red scrunchie. She has just doused her house in gasoline and lit the match when her husband and son come home. The father quickly runs into the house while the son stays in the car as the mother waves at him from her bedroom window then shoots herself from (under her chin/jaw) as her son is left watching the entire thing. It’s safe to assume the boy in the car is JD because, by the episode’s end, that assumption proves to be true.

So how similar is it to the film, really?

Not very. Not very at all. OK despite my ass clinging to the use of the word very for dear life now, the show honestly has very little to do with the source material. One could speculate that Shannen Doherty’s character (JD’s mother who commits suicide in the show’s cold open) might be someone from the original film and that’s how they could be linked. Otherwise, there’s not much similarity to the original beyond the basic concept and shared character names. And the references. There are loads of references to the source material - not so much to the musical - but you’d be hardpressed to forget this is a reboot with all the allusions to the original.

Why are the diverse characters the villains?

I have no fucking clue. In the narrative, it’s because people who are different are now popular. 

Heather Chandler (HC) is fat (or as the show calls it “body positive” as if to say fat is a bad word and only overweight people can be body positive) and she appears to be into a more blackmail centred version of social justice. And she’ll continue to blackmail people even after her “death” it seems - if the sneak peek at the end of the episode’s any indication. 

Heather Duke (HD) is our genderqueer character, and we see she/her pronouns being used (I can’t recall if other pronouns were also used for Duke). She basically copies HC in that blackmail approach to social justice and she’s secretly very envious of HC

Heather McNamara (HM) is our biracial Heather, she is also supposedly a lesbian, but we see her making out with one of her male teachers in the parking lot of Snappy’s Snack Shack. HD catches her in this act and claims that HM is not actually LGBTQ+ (sexuality is fluid though so maybe HM is another type of WLW. Though, by the way, this show is going HD seems correct in her assumption that HM is straight).

Outside of this narrative though it doesn’t make any sense. We could have gotten a POC Veronica and/or JD (who they seem to be making more of an antihero than outright psychopath), or they could have gender-bent JD and made Veronica WLW to provide diversity in a way that doesn’t villainise the diverse.

Trying to Flip the Script

As I said above, they seem to want to make JD more of an antihero than the psychopathic killer he was in the film. And I noticed this was something they tried to do in the musical too. They may not have gone as far as making him an anti-hero in the musical, but they were definitely trying to make him a more sympathetic character.

In the film, there’s this element of mystery to him. What was his past? When did he start killing? Was HC his first or was framing murders as suicides always his M.O.? The film alludes to his mother’s presumed suicide as the catalyst for his strange fascination with death but it never comes out an says it. Maybe I like that because it’s also left a little ambiguous to how JD’s mother died. We all know he said it was a suicide - “she walked into a building right before my dad blew it up.” - but was that the whole truth? Did she really decide to die in such a way? Was she lured into the building under false pretences (every time I watch the film, I’m very suspicious of JD’s dad, and I get the feeling that he may have murdered his wife)?

I suspect that if this show continues, and based on reviews, it’s not looking good, we’ll see more of that: how his mother died and why he is the way he is.

I also wonder how much of the other characters they plan to change. In the show, Veronica’s only label seems to be that she thinks of herself to be a “good person”. In the film, she was bored with where she was in the school’s social hierarchy. JD provided her with adventure that she wasn’t finding at school or with her friends. JD disrupted that status quo, and that’s what was so intriguing to her. In this show, though, the status quo has already been disrupted. The outsiders are insiders now.So what could JD possibly offer than changes her whole perspective?

Betty or Martha

Just as in the musical, it seems as though these two characters get combined. Unless they intend to introduce or make mention of Martha “dumptruck” Dunnstock later, it seems as though she’s been combined with Betty Finn.

As for Betty, she’s not the innocent one you loved from the film. This one seems to be quite envious of Veronica. She’s got a chip on her shoulder, and after HC’s not-really-death she delivers a eulogy on campus which seems to be setting her up as the next Heather - the new sheriff in town, as it were. Though HD and HM are fighting to claim the void that HC left as the school’s ruler, it seems by the next day, Betty would take it upon herself to claim this role. And I really don’t know how I feel about that.

In the film, Betty was Veronica’s past and a place she to which she longed to return. Betty was her life before the Heathers. And she longed for that simpler time. She was a pleasant reminder of what Veronica used to have and what she was trying to get back. Similarly, Martha was Veronica’s future. After dethroning HD, Veronica befriends Martha, and they plan to spend prom together watching movies and eating popcorn. The chaos is out of her life, and Martha offers her a chance of normality.

Having said that, my next question is, what will be Veronica’s relationship with HM? In the film, HM was the quietest of the Heathers and only really partook in events because the rest of the group was. After HD mocked her for her troubles [Poor Little Heather], she attempted suicide - which was quickly stopped by Veronica who spotted the signs. Their relationship grew in the film because of this event. There was genuine caring and support that Veronica had with HM that she didn’t have with the other Heathers and I wonder if that will ever be explored in the show. I would love to see Veronica being friends with HM and Martha in the show, if the show doesn’t die a quick death, because those were the relationships that were being created at the end of the film so we didn’t get the chance to explore them further. Veronica saw the pain these women were having and made an effort to befriend and help them after they had both attempted suicide. That is something that would be really cool to explore, but I doubt they ever will.

Wait, so Heather Chandler didn’t die?

She did not. The final moments of the episode flashback to earlier that day where HC wakes up in the morning after having smashed through her table and seemingly died the previous night. At first, she’s pissed and is prepared to make Veronica and JD’s lives a living hell, that is, until she checks her phone and realises just how much more popular she has become now that people believe her to be dead. 

And that’s where we leave things. We get a little sneak peek of episodes to come. HC will seemingly blackmail Veronica and JD to help bring about “justice” for her. Which appears to take the form of killing other students and framing them as suicides at HC’s request.

Final Thoughts

I think this could have been a really cool show had certain monikers not been attached. This show is both trying to pay homage to the film and be its own thing, and I feel like that could lead to its downfall. If the character had different names, this could be a really cool stand-alone show. The plot of the show will obviously have to deviate from the film to allow for multiple episodes, so it’s really only similar in a general concept and sporting characters with identical names to the film and musical.

Had this show been a looser adaptation/reboot or had it only been inspired by the film I could see it having a much longer life than it probably will. While I love the allusions to the film, this show is a drastic departure, and although I don’t hate it and could admire it as it’s owe thing (had the title been different and the characters’ names changed), I won’t be watching it any further.

If I’m a “stan” for anything, it would be the 1988 cult classic on which this show is based. But I just feel that the show is both trying really hard to be it’s own unique thing while also trying to be a love-letter to the film and I think that’s where it’s going to struggle.

#triggers: #child witnessing parent's death #suicide #murder #heathers tv show #heathers tv series #heathers pilot #heathers the musical #heathers film #heathers movie #heathers film reference #personal #analysis

[pen-masta]

Cabin Confessions

Joy noticed Castel was really out of it after he and Martha broke up. But he’s been acting weird lately...weirder than normal. She just broke up with her jerky boyfriend and she knew Castel never liked him, so she hoped maybe that’s why Castel has been so distant lately. She thought everything would go back to normal after she dumped the guy but Castel has hardly spoken to her in almost three months! What is going on! Why is he avoiding her? She doesn’t know, but she’s determined to find out!

“There it is,” Joy beams as they pull up to her families cabin. “Oh it looks so pretty with the snow!”

Castel smirks a little at his best friend as she coos over the log cabin covered in the cold powder. He parks his truck and gets out of the cab. He reaches into the bed of the truck and pulls out their bags as he looks up at the sky and grimaces.

“Those are more snow clouds coming this way,” he says and throws Joy’s duffel over his shoulder. “I sure hope everyone gets here safely.”

“Oh don’t worry about them,” Joy waves dismissively at him as she skips up the wooden steps. “Everyone is a safe driver they’ll be fine.”

“Still those clouds look nasty,” he says and looks at the clouds over his shoulder.

“Oh hush,” Joy shushes and unlocks the front door. “Come on worry wart let’s get this party started!”

Castel smiles a little and follows her inside the dark cabin. Joy unpacks the food they brought and the decorations while Castel brings in firewood--some they bought on their way up and some he found in the shed that he had cut the last time they were up here.

“There that should do it,” Castel huffs putting the last stack of logs onto the enormous pile he’s hauled in. “There’s enough here for the six days we’ll be up here and some extra just in case something happens.”

“Oh please nothing is going to happen C-Bear.” Joy rolls her eyes as she finishes emptying the cooler, “There all unpacked!”

Castel smiles and leans against the wall watching as she shuts the cooler and kicks it into the corner of the kitchen. He watches the enormous googly eyes of the snowman on her sweater spin around as she skips over to him with a big toothy grin.

“Ready to decorate?” She asks

He chuckles and nods, “Sure Joy.” He looks out the window again and frowns, “I’m really not liking that sky.”

“Decorations now, weather later.” Joy instructs and opens one of the cardboard boxes.

“Joy I’m serious,” he says and walks over to the window. “The roads are covered in snow and ice enough as it is and now it’s gonna snow again?” His eyebrows furrow in concern, “I hope everyone makes it here before this storm hits.”

Joy bites her lip and shrugs, “I’m sure they will Cassie.”

“There’s already five inches from the last time it snowed,” he says and looks at the ground outside. “If it keeps snowing like that we could get snowed in.”

“Casanova you worry too much,” Joy giggles and throws a rubber balloon at him. “Now get yer butt over here mister and help me!”

Castel smirks and picks up the balloon, “Alright alright.”

Castel sits on the couch blowing up balloons while Joy bounces around throwing a streamer here, or hanging a bow there, or sprinkling confetti over...well everywhere. He’s blown up almost eighty balloons before he starts to feel a little light headed. He ties the balloon off and watches it float gently to the ground. He looks out the window to see the snow starting to fall.

“There it is,” he sighs. “Told you it was gonna snow. If it keeps coming down we could get snowed in.”

“Yeah yeah,” Joy says dismissively. “How ya doing over there Hot Air?” She teases and stacks sparkly top hats on the kitchen table.

“Ha ha you’re hilarious,” Castel says with mock humor and rolls his eyes.

Joy giggles, “Oh I know I am.” She says and skips to the center of the living room. She puts her one hand behind her back and the other rests on her chin, as she spins slowly in place. “Hmmmmmm,” she hums thoughtfully as she examines her work. “I think all we need now is the banner and it’ll be complete!”

“The banner?” Castel asks panting a little, “Joy do we really need the banner?”

“Yes Cassie,” she deadpans and stares at him. “The banner pulls it all together.”

He stares at her for a moment. It had been the little things that had awoken the beast again. The way she’d smile at him, the way she’d laugh, the way her hair would fall, it all stirred the feelings he was positive he buried years ago. Even now the way she stands with her hand on her chin she looks adorable...and it makes his heart throb.

Clearing his throat he looks away from her and out the window. He fidgets with his hands and his right knee starts to shake. He can feel the bubbles in his gut start to boil and churn as she stands there in front of him. He needs to change the subject, get them talking about something else. Something that does not call for eye contact for he fears if he continues to look at her, the bubbles will spill over and engulf him from the inside out. He needs to talk about something else now!

“It’s-really-coming-down-out-there,” he says in one breath. “I really hope everyone makes it safely tonight.” He says again even though he knows he’s said that several times already...but he doesn’t know what else to talk about.

Joy sighs a little.

She chews her bottom lip and starts to play with her hair. Maybe it’s time to tell him, she thinks to herself, he’s getting antsy.

“Cassie,” Joy says and looks at the floor. “I’ve got to tell you something.” 

A subject that did not call for his eyes on her has backfired immensely. However, the smallness of her voice causes his concerns to rise more than the bubbles so he feels he can control himself if he looks at her. So he does.

“What is it Joy?” He asks concern laced in his voice.

She won’t meet his eyes, she just stares down at her feet while she plays with her hair. She only does that when she’s nervous, he thinks to himself starting to worry.

“The family isn’t coming tonight,” she says.

“What?” He asks taken back.

She nods, “They aren’t coming until the night of the 30th.” She looks up at him timidly, “It’s just you and me here for three days.”

He blinks as what she says starts to set in. “I...I don’t understand.” He looks at her, “You told me--”

“I know what I told you,” Joy sighs and looks down again. “I’m sorry I lied...but I had to have you here alone.”

The bubbles die down in his gut as anger replaces them.

“Really?” He asks irritation filling his voice, “And why is that Joy?”

She shifts her eyes to his face, “You’ve been so distant lately. Castel we haven’t spoken in months more than a few words.”

“We’ve spoken,” he says defensively and stands up.

“Oh sure we have,” she says sarcastically and rolls her eyes. “The same old forced small talk. How are you? I’m fine. That’s good. How are you? I’m fine as well.” She narrows her eyes at him, “And then it stops.”

“So what?” He asks in an annoyed tone.

“So when has that ever been how we talk?” She asks the aggravation rising in her own voice.

“Look Joy I’m sorry I haven’t been on your schedule lately,” he snaps, “but I do have my own life to live!”

Why are you yelling her? Don’t yell at her! He yells in his head.

Joy’s eyes widen and there’s a flicker of hurt in her big brown orbs, but it’s brief. She scrunches her eyebrows together and grits her teeth, he wants a fight? Fine! Bring it on!

“I never once asked you to give up your life for me,” she says and crosses her arms. “Not like you have a life to give up.”

His eyes burn, “Oh I have no life? How about you Miss Break Up With Guys After Only Dating Them For Two Months.”

“He was a jerk!” She yells, “And at least I have been on dates not just sitting alone in my house because my fiance cheated on me!”

Hurt fills his eyes, she knew it was a low blow but his words stung just as much! His eyebrows knit together and he growls, he’s fuming now.

“At least I had a fiance!” He yells feeling the heat rise in his face from the anger, “You can’t get a guy to stick around long enough to even get through a few months! If you don’t break up with them, they scram! They take off and head for the hills!” He laughs, “And you know what they’re smart to do so!”

Tears shine in her eyes as she stares at him with so many emotions--anger, hurt, sorrow, and an odd feeling where she wants to cause him physical harm.

She shoots him a weak smile, “When did you turn into such a jerk!”

“About the same time you became so needy and clingy!”

“Oh I’m needy?” She laughs, “All you do is whine! Grow a spine and stop being so wishy washy all the time you blubbering buffoon!”

“At least I don’t text and call you a thousand times a day!” He yells his heart pounding in his ears.

“At least I call you!” She barks.

“And you trick people into bending to your will!” He spits out and shakes his head before grips his hair, “You’re so frustratingly annoying!”

“Then leave!” She shouts, “I’m not keeping you here! And frankly I don’t even want you here anymore!”

“Why did you even want me here to begin with!?” He screeches his voice cracking a little.

“Because I wanted to make sure you were alright after what happened with Martha!” She hisses, “You were so secluded and down and dark I wanted to make sure you weren’t going to--” she stops not being able to bring herself to say the words she’s feared. 

They stare at each other for a moment in silence, their words still hanging in the air. She bites her lip and closes her eyes pushing the thought out of her head. She takes a deep breath and stares back at him coldly.

“But you know what? I don’t even care anymore.” She shakes her head, “Go, leave. I don’t want you here, go stay at a hotel or something until the party.”

His expression softens, “Joy I--”

“Don’t even,” she cuts him off. “Just go.”

His face hardens again and he straightens up, “Fine.”

He walks passed her and opens the front door, only to have a pile of snow pour onto the floor. He blinks and looks out side to see his truck’s wheels buried in the snow...he can’t leave. He sighs and kicks the snow back outside the best he can before slamming the door shut. He pivots on his heels to face her.

Her arms are crossed, face red, and tears shine in her eyes as she holds her ground. Her eyebrows are still knitted together and her lips are in a tight line--he’s positive she’s biting her tongue to keep from crying. He knows he’s hurt her, but he’s still so mad and hurt not only by her words but also the fact that she lied to him!

He stuffs his hands in his pockets and growls at the ground, “I told you we’d get snowed in.”

“What do you want a sticker?” She asks sarcastically with a snarky smile.

His eyes burn at her, “I’m going upstairs.” He huffs and walks passed her to the stairs.

“Fine go ahead.” She hisses and looks down, “It’s was a bad idea to bring you here.” She mumbles more to herself than to him.

He stops on the bottom step and looks back at her over his shoulder. Her back is to him, but she holds her hands to her face and he can see the shaking in her shoulders. Guilt rips through him and he looks down at the floor, he is a jerk. He opens his mouth to speak, but thinks better of it. He knows he’s still steaming and she probably is too...they need some time apart.

=============

He paces around in the upstairs bedroom replaying their fight in his head. They haven’t had a fight like that in years. He sighs and runs his hand through his hair and sits on the windowsill couch. He drops his head between his knees, feeling terrible. He feels used! He feels stupid! He’d been lied to by the one person who he blindly trusts in everything...but then again she had only lied to get him here alone to talk to him. Although what just happened wasn’t talking...that’s his fault though. She had been worried about him, he distanced himself from her, he hardly spoke to her. He hardly paid any attention to anyone, but especially her. And what had he expected her to do? Of course she was worried about him. After what happened with Martha...he hasn’t been himself. But of course that isn’t the only reason he’s been off. But he can’t tell her that part...

He sighs and leans back against the window. The cold from the outside beats against the window and seeps into his sweater. The chill that runs up his spine is semi-comforting as the cold glass breathes its icy breath against the hot skin on his neck. The anger and sorrow and sting of the ugly words that were throw out boil and stir in his chest. He takes a deep breath and rubs the tears out of his eyes. He stares up at the ceiling, the vision of her tear filled eyes flashes in his head. He really cut her deep. He closes his eyes, he didn’t mean a single word he said...he was just trying to hurt her. He’s happy she broke up with that guy Gabe, or Gale, or...something with a G. The guy had a stupid man-bun on the top of his head, a five o’clock shadow he never grew out or at least shaved. And he made stupid references to songs, like quoting the lyric and the artist like they were Aristotle or Plato or something!

Not to mention he was really kind of mean to Joy, like he’d say something with a smile but it’s be a jab at her--like low key bashing her. He’s surprised Joy stayed as long as she did, he believes in second chances but man that guy needed fourth, sixth, and eighth chances. G-guy was a bum too he had only gone on about two or three dates with Joy and every single time she had to pay; he had been the one to ask her out he could at least pay for himself! Castel sighs...only it sounds like a cross between a sigh and a growl. He wouldn’t want Joy to get married to just get married, especially to a sleazeball like G-guy. He knows that was a low blow about the whole fiance thing...to be honest when she said she had cut it off with G-guy Castel was so happy he wanted to throw a party.

He feels like such a heel and a hypocrite. He should go apologize to her, he really should...but...he’s so tired. He runs his hand down his face, the emotions concealed in his chest and the anger induced adrenaline from their fight is slowly draining out of his body along with all of his energy. He yawns feeling the heat in his face fading away as he lies down on the little windowsill couch. He curls up and closes his eyes, feeling release. 

=============

When he wakes up he’s shivering slightly. He opens his eyes to find he’s pressed up against the cold glass. He rolls away and sits up only to have a small throw blanket slip down into his lap. He blinks down at the material running it through his fingers, he didn’t have this when he went to sleep...guilt beats against his heart. He grits his teeth and slaps his forehead, even though she was furious with him she had come up and covered him so he wouldn’t be so cold. Gosh he’s an idiotic son of a mule! He really needs to fix this.

He sighs and stretches, cracking his neck. Once all his bones have stopped popping he runs his hand through his messy curls and looks around the room. It’s really dark in the room, looks like the sun went down while he slept. He sighs and scratches the hairs on his cheeks as music hits his ears. Sunrise by Norah Jones is floats up the stairs along with a sweet scent. His stomach growls loudly at the fragrance and he sighs he might as well go down and at least get something to eat, until he’s pieced together an apology.

He walks down the stairs as the smell get stronger and the tunes get louder. He pokes his head into the kitchen to see Joy at the counter, the speaker next to her is blasting the soft melody as she chops some potatoes. He stuffs his hands in his pockets and stands there for a moment watching her. She bounces a little to the music as she slides the potato halves into the pan.

She spins around to the oven and she sees him. Her face is still neutral as her eyes lock with his, he can see the red tint to her eyes a sign that she had been crying. Chagrin shreds his heart knowing he was the cause. He rubs the back of his neck and slowly walks over to the fridge. He ducks his head inside scanning the shelves for a moment, before he peeks up over the door at Joy. She’s bent over in front of the oven checking on something she’s got baking in it.

He gulps and stands up forcing his eyes from her--that is a sight that is not going to help him. She closes the oven and walks back over to the cutting board and she starts chopping some onions. He closes the fridge and stands there for a minute trying to think of something to say, as the lyrics play in the room.

‘And I said hooooo to you’

He huffs a little and decides maybe it’s better to not say anything, instead he walks up next to her. She stops chopping and watches as he takes another knife and some carrots. He starts chopping the carrot up, but she still stares at him. He glances at her and their eyes lock. He pauses a moment before offering her a small smile, she stares at him in silence before she takes his offer and smiles back.

Not a word is said. They just smile at each other, swaying to Sunrise, and cooking together. He smiles as he walks passed her to the stove, accidentally-on-purpose bumming his hip into her knocking her off balance slightly. She glares playful at him as he stirs the veggies and fish. She grins and takes the hose from the sink and sprays his back with water. He jumps at the cold water hitting his back and spins around to her. She smiles innocently and he narrows his eyes at her, grinning. He smiles and takes his sweater off hanging it on the chair at the table and unbuttons the top buttons of his shirt. He glances at the window then back at Joy and smiles. He opens the window just enough and catches the little bit of snow that falls in. He clutches it in his hand and walks back over to Joy. She stands at the stove just finishing pouring the sauce into the pan of food, when he walks up behind her. He grins and quickly wraps his one arm around her middle, while the other stuff the snow down the back of her sweater. She squeaks and tries to pull away, but he is much stronger than she is keeping her in a tight hold.

And that’s how it went until everything was in the oven baking and cleaned up. She’d thrown flour at him, he’d bump into her on purpose, back and forth until they were both laughing. He’d try to steal a carrot slice from the mix and she’d slap his hand away, he’d stick his tongue out at her and she’d return the gesture.

Now as their meal bakes in the oven they sit curled up on the couch together in silence. He smiles as she sits next to him among the New Years Eve decorations. This is nice, this is normal, all the anger and nastiness from earlier is gone...but he still feels like a major heel.

“Joy,” he says.

“Hm?” She asks.

He clears his throat, “Joy about earlier...I’m really s--”

“Stop,” she says and sits up. “Don’t Cassie...just don’t.”

He blinks, “But--”

“Look we were both at fault alright? And I know if you start apologizing you’re gonna try and take all the blame for our fight.” She looks down, “I said some really unkind nasty awful words to you too. I’m also to blame for this whole brawl.”

He runs his hand through his hair, “Alright then...I just want to say I’m sorry for what I said at least...I didn’t mean a word.”

She looks up at him, “I know...and I’m sorry for what I said...I didn’t mean a single thing I said.”

He smiles a little and nods, “I know.” They’re silent again for a moment before he clears his throat, “And I gotta tell ya I’m so happy you broke up with...Greg.”

Joy snorts and laughs, “George.”

He huffs and tosses his head back, “That was my second guess!”

They both laugh again and smile at each other. She leans back and lies down against the armrest, resting her feet in his lap. He smiles a little feeling his heart start to beat at an irregular tempo.

“So now that we’ve fought and made up,” Joy says, “can we talk?”

He looks at her and nods, “Sure Jo-jo.”

She smiles a little and tilts her head, “So how come you’ve been so...secluded?” She asks quietly.

He swallows, “Just needed some time alone is all.”

“Are you alright?” She asks worry lacing her voice.

Nope, not at all, he thinks to himself.

“I’m fine Joy honest,” he smiles. “Don’t worry I’m not thinking of ending it or anything like that. Martha didn’t mess me up that bad.”

She nods and looks down at the floor, “Is it because of something...I did?”

He blinks and shakes his head, “No, no, no Joy it’s not anything you did. It’s me.”

“Then what is it with you Cassie?” She asks and sits up, “You haven’t spoken to anyone hardly.”

He rubs the back of his neck his heart starting to pound vicious. He distanced himself from everyone when he started having these feelings and thoughts. He’s sick to think of her in that way! He’s sick, sick, sick! And he needed time away from her. The more time he spent with her, the more thoughts of her flooded his brain, his dreams, his fantasies, even his daydreams! And she’s his best friend and best friends don’t do...anything like that. And he knows she would never ever in a million years feel that way about him, he’d lose her! She’d think he’s a creep and a sleaze, and she’d never want to be alone with him again! She’d never speak to him, she wouldn’t want to be his friend anymore, it’d be too weird knowing that he thought of her...inappropriately like that. No, no he can’t, just gotta play it cool.

“Look Joy I’ve just had a lot on my mind is all,” he shrugs. “I just needed to be in my own head.”

Joy narrows her eyes and puffs her cheeks a little, not convinced at all. She looks down and starts to play with her hair.

“You know you can tell me anything, right?”

You don’t want me to tell you this, he thinks to himself.

“I want to be here for you and help you,” she says in a determined voice.

You can’t help me with this, you don’t want to know how sick I am. He thinks to himself.

“I know Joy,” he says with a weak smile.

“I won’t be mad or judge you Cassie,” she says and sits up on her knees so she’s eye level with him.

“I know that Joy,” he swallows. “But I really don’t want to talk about it right now,s o could we maybe...drop it?”

She sighs but nods, “Alright Cassie we can drop it.” He smiles and her eyes lite up, “Hey they’re still playing some christmas movies.”

“Well what are we waiting for I’ll make some hot chocolate,” he smiles and she giggles.

He makes up two mugs of hot chocolate while Joy flips through the channels until she finds the christmas movie channel. He hands her one of the mugs and sits next to her. She smiles and drapes a blanket over the two of them before snuggling into his side. His muscle tense up as she presses her warm body into his side. He wasn’t prepared for this, he hadn’t agreed to this. He was not ready for snuggling and cuddling, god! He can’t do this!

Ok, ok just remain calm and cool. Act like it doesn’t bother you, he thinks to himself as he sips his hot chocolate with a shaky hand.

“Cassie,” Joy says into his side.

“Hm?”

“Can I just ask you one more question,” she says and looks up at him with big puppy dog eyes. “Please.”

He bites his tongue unable to say ‘no’ when she looks at him like that.

“Alright sure,” he nods.

“How long?”

He blinks confused, “What?”

She smiles a little, “How long?”

“I don’t understand the question.”

“How long have you felt this way?”

“What way?”

“Enough with the playing dumb Cassierole,” she rolls her eyes. “I want to know how long you’ve felt this way about me.”

His eyes grow wide as his brain lights on fire, “H-huh?”

“Don’t ‘huh’ me,” she smiles. “I’m not stupid Cassie.”

“You’ve known!?” He asks his voice cracking slightly

She nods, “Yeah.”

“Why didn’t you say something!?”

She shrugs, “I wanted to give you time until you were ready to tell me yourself.”

“And what do you call this?”

“I figured you needed a little push,” she smiles.

He sighs and runs his fingers through his hair as his heart thumps in his throat.

“How did you know?”

“Well I didn’t at first but then Tina said something to me about how you were acted around George.”

“I was just upset with how he was treating you,” he huffs and pouts like a child. “You deserve so much better.”

“And why do you feel that way Cassie,” she smiles knowingly.

His cheeks burn and he coughs nervously, “Because....because I ah c-care about you.”

She rolls her eyes, “Anyway I started paying more attention to how you’d act, things you’d say, your body language. And I started to wonder if you were on some level, jealous.”

He forces a hardy laugh, “Me jealous? Of dumb George?”

“Yes,” she nods.

“Why on earth would I be jealous of that idiot?” He chuckles

She smiles sweetly at him, “Because he was with me.”

Every single cell in his brain is engulfed in flames, so she’s really...known? She’s known all this time!? Oh god, oh god, OH GOD!

“I wasn’t positive if that’s really how you felt, but then you cut yourself off from everyone and me,” she smiles. “And then it all clicked. I went through every memory of you and how you acted when I was with someone. Every encounter and it all started to make sense.”

“Listen Joy I just--I really um,” his throat feels as though it’s closing up seeing that it’s become a great feat to swallow. He grips onto the last shred of control his has left and takes a deep breath, “I’m sorry.”

She blinks, “What on earth for?”

“Because I’ve felt this way about you for a long time,” he says hanging his head. “A-a-and it’s wrong!” He snaps, standing to his feet. “It’s wrong I shouldn’t feel that way about you!”

“And just why not?” She asks trying to not sound offended.

“Because you’re my best friend, you’re practically my sister!” He yells and covers his face with his hands. His face is on fire!

She sighs and stands up next to him. He gets himself so flustered and workup over stuff that really doesn’t matter. She smiles sweetly at him and gently pushes his hands down from his eyes.

“But I’m not your sister,” she smirks. “You know that right?”

He rolls his eyes, “Yes I know that Joy, you know what I mean.”

“Yes I do,” she giggles. “And love you like a brother, you’re my best friend.”

She hates how his eyes crumble and shatter as his face falls, “See I knew you wouldn’t--” his words are cut off by her hand which promptly covers his mouth.

“But that doesn’t mean I can’t love you even more than that,” she smiles.

He blinks and she takes her hand away from his mouth replacing it with her lips. His body stiffens as the shock takes over his body. He blinks again before closing his eyes and wrapping his arms around her melting more into the kiss. His heart is pounding so hard his chest is starting to hurt. 

When they break apart he stares down at her trying to catch his breath.

“A-are you sure this is what you want?” He asks

She smiles and kisses him again, “Yes Casper, I’m sure.”

He smiles and kisses her again as colors explode in his mind. He takes a step back and trips falling onto the couch, pulling her with him. He yelps and she giggles before kissing him as he chuckles. And as the snow continues to fall outside he finds he’d wish nothing more than to stay in this moment, snowed in a cabin with the love of his life.

#cabin #love #confessions #secrets #snowed in #cold #winter #cute #fluff

[melchixr]

Curator’s Assistant (part four) ((finally))

Anon said:  I just read your Currators Assistant fic and its? So good?? Do you think there will be a part 4 up anytime soon?

BIH my life has been wild lately. I’m writing and directing a play???? I’m morticia in addams family?????? I’ve written two short film scripts and I’m currently in the process of directing and acting in one of them???????????? life is wild. so sorry i haven’t been writing for this blog lately. i still love it so much i just never have time????

words: 1400

Part One, Part Two, Part Three

“That is the single most illegal thing I can think of.”

“Wendla, I’m begging you,” I pleaded and leaned against the desk. “I’ll do literally anything for you to tell  me his address.”

The very pretty museum docent laughed. “You really think I am going to just tell you where this kid lives? You could go and murder him with that information! We all know that you hate him. It was a fact Hanschen used at Staff Trivia Night.”

Instead of asking why I wasn’t invited to Staff Trivia Night (which might be because I once told Hanschen to suck his own dick in front of a crowd on ten year olds when he got the year on a painting wrong), I just looked into her big blue eyes and pouted some more.  “Melchi, I love you but you’re an idiot.” She said jarringly. “What makes you think I even know how to get that information. I just greet people who come in and tell them where the bathrooms are.”

“Well… Your best friend is the registrar….”

After a long pause, Wendla let out a long sigh. “Do you want me...To break into Martha’s office? Like a common criminal?”

“Well if she were still here three hours after closing, I would just ask her. But since we’re the only two here with no lives on a Saturday night, I gotta ask you. So pretty please?”

The woman stepped out from behind the tall desk. She was definitely beautiful. She had this charming, youthful glow about her that made her feel like a little girl. But she was in no way childish. Wendla had put me in my place more times than I’d like to admit. And with her wife, Ilse, being head of security, I pity any man who dare mistake that childish glow for ignorance. I once watched her scissor kick a grown man in a bar for asking her what color her panties were.

“Fine,” She muttered and glared at me with the rage of a billion sons. “But only if you tell me why.”

My defenses suddenly went up. All senses were standing on high alert as I responded instinctively. “What? I don’t need to explain myself to anyone!”

“If you’re having them do illegal activities for you, then yes, you do!”

Damn, she’s right.

After a pause to think, I took a deep breath. I was definitely not ready. But I didn’t think I’d ever be.  As I spoke, I untucked the bottom of my dress shirt. “Ok so...Do you know how you felt they day you found out Ilse was your soulmate?”

Wendla looked at the red lettering on her forearm. Her eyes were filled with nostalgic joy. “Oh yeah... first day of senior year and she had just transferred to my school. And we were in English together. I thought she was funny and smart so I invited her to have lunch with my group. Then when she sat at the table and asked me what I was having….I felt like a thousand needles were pressing my arm.” She looke dup for only a moment, breaking out of her memories. “It was amazing…”

“Were you scared?”

“Not really,” Wendla replied. “I was so happy to have met my soulmate. And to have a soulmate so pretty and smart and charming. And also get to start having guilt free sex with her and know it was for the rest of my life.” She looked down to see me unbuttoning my shirt from the bottom. “What the hell are you doing?”

Instead of responding, I lifted up my shirt to reveal my right ribcage. What used to be covered in black writing was not dotted in a very light red. But what it was is still very obvious. “Because I was really afraid.”

“Holy shit, Melchior,” She gasped. “Why didn’t you tell anyone. Who is it?” Normally, soulmates are a big deal. You find out who yours is and you tell everyone you know. Your coworkers, your family, your dog, the strangers you see on the street. People tend to throw parties even, introducing themselves to the world as a sign that true love is everywhere.

But I let my silence speak for me instead. Just like how I was deadly silent the day it happened. Wendla knew almost immediately, telling by my expression. “Oh no… It’s Moritz isn’t it.”

I let my shirt fall back down and buttoned it again. “And the day after it turned, he resigned. Didn’t even tell it to my face. Just dropped it in my office on top of his completely cleared of desk. Didn’t even sign it.”

Wendla didn’t say anything. She seemed to just know immediately what she had to do and took off towards the stairs.

As I waited for courage in the dimly lit parking lot, I rolled over my options. A large part of my brain told me to toss the paper right out the window. I could just do what I’m good at and ignore it.

Ignore it by having sex with strangers who also hadn’t met their soulmate’s yet and playing pretend that the words on their body were my own.

Telling people who asked that I was one of the rare ones who just doesn’t have a soulmate and play pretend to be the one in a million.

Making plans to live out the rest of my life alone with a cat and a library and play pretend that I don’t want to wake up next to someone every day.

Just go home and take a cold shower and play pretend that the words are still black and I still don’t know who it could possibly do.

But my eyes trailed back to the piece of paper in the passenger seat. On it was a hastily scribbled address in pen along with a doodled heart and a small ‘go get him!’.

I couldn’t help but put Moritz’s face on all the fantasizes I’d been having since I was a little kid. Of taking my soulmate to a park and holding their hand. Going ice skating with my soulmate in the winter and cuddling in the taxi on the way home. Baking bread with my soulmate and messing up the recipe but not caring because they’re so cute. Having my soulmate steal my blankets from me in the middle of the night and getting revenge by tickling them until they beg for mercy.

All my life, that soulmate had been a blur. A shapeless, faceless form that carried all my hopes and dreams for a perfect life.  Now it’s Moritz Stiefel with his dumb messy pouf of hair and his dark circles under his hazel eyes. And his long, pale face framed perfectly by that pair of crooked glasses that sat so precariously on his nose. And the splash of dark freckles that marked randomly along his cheeks and neck.

44 Oxford Street

Suite 2

And my car was pulling out of the parking lot.

Oxford Street wasn’t too far from Bellevue Road, where I knew Otto lived. And if I go from there onto Stoneybrook Street and took one more left onto  Bradford Lane, it’s right there.

The apartments were smaller than I imagined. Just a little two story brick duplex. It was perfect split into two narrow halves with two doors, each other having a small front porch. That of Suite 1 had a plethora of potted plants all with little garden ornaments and trinkets in them, as well as an American flag and a “This House and My Heart Belongs To My Yorkie” sign.

Suite 2 had a dead plant and one overflowing ashtray.

My mind sure new how to pick them.

For a long while, I just sat in my car in front of the house. The neighborhood seemed nice, sorta busy, but still cozy. It seemed like a nice place to live. So why should I come barging in and ruining it all for him. He left for a reason. So who the hell am I to track him down after he very specifically did all he could to get away from me?

His fucking soul mate that’s who.

I made sure to not look back as I charged toward the front door on a mission to fall head over heels for this human trainwreck.

#spring awakening fic #spring awakening #spring awakening fan fic #spring awakening fan fiction #dwsa #sa #Deaf West #deaf west spring awakening #fic #fan fic #fan fiction #melchior gabor #moritz stiefel #melchior/moritz #melchritz #melchior #Moritz #wendla #ilse neumann #wendla bergmann #modern au #soulmate fic #soulmate au

[trickstarbrave]

wedding day

hey-- im back!! sorry i missed so many days so far. life just started getting in the way. however im back and i might try to still catch up on a few days since i have ideas for them still. 

for now though its july 28th: family day! this is a companion piece to my previous fanart because i really wants to do this day but i had a hard time thinking of something good to write

its also on ao3 if thats easier to read!

   Crow already couldn’t believe the day had rolled around already. It seemed so distant, even just yesterday. It did make sense, given a lot would be happened today but…

   It wasn’t like Crow didn’t want to go through with it. Nothing like that-- he wanted to get married. It just didn’t seem… Real was all.

   He washed his face in the sink, drying it off on a hand towel, and then got started brushing his teeth. The markers on his face were a daily reminder of all that he had done. They couldn’t ever really be removed, unlike normal tattoos, but that was the plan with security. He heard they were researching a way to remove them but that would be just as painful as getting them on, if not more so.

   Crow sighed. With a face like his, he didn’t think he’d really make it far outside of Satellite. Becoming a security officer? Becoming a pro duelist? Getting married? None of that was a life he could have predicted after he got the first marker on his forehead at the age of 14.

   As he started getting dressed in a t-shirt and jeans (he planned to change at Martha’s house) he set off. It felt nice to be in Neo Domino again-- even if he was a pro duelist now, he would always miss home. A lot had changed since the bridge was built, a lot of older buildings torn down because they were unsafe to live in, a lot of filling in huge gaps of the island, not to mention reworking security on the old momentum plant. Kids apparently kept trying to jump the fence and sneak in and the thought of a reckless kid getting hurt in there nearly made Crow’s heart stop.

   Martha opened the door for him, and all the kids rushed out. They decided to spend the nights with her leading up to the wedding, as she had a lot more room. Besides, they always missed Martha, and Crow wasn’t about to keep them from her.

   “Right on time Mr. Groom!” Martha teased, while the kids jumped around Crow.

   “You’re really still gonna marry Brave?” Ginga asked, tugging on his shirt.

“Why are you wearing a t-shirt!” Hikari laughed. “Do you really plan to get married in that while we have to be dressed up?” She teased.

“Calm down!” Crow laughed heartily. He was glad the kids were taking this well. “I’m going to get changed obviously! I’m just going to get ready here before we head to the bridge!”

“Can we climb up on the bridge?” Daichi asked, and Crow tugged on his cheek.

“Absolutely not! You know it’s dangerous up there and I’ve never let you play on it.” Daichi still grinned wide. Honestly, the older they got the more of a handful they were. But Crow wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Come on now kids, don’t get your clothes all dirty! And hurry up and start getting ready Crow!” Martha called from the doorway. The kids all ran inside.

   “Are you sure you don’t need help with things Martha?” Crow asked as he also walked in. The kitchen smelled like home cooked food and Crow’s stomach growled a bit. As much as he enjoyed Brave’s cooking, there was a special place in his heart for his foster mother’s meals.

“Help? Crow it’s your wedding!” Martha laughed happily. “I can expect the first son of mine to actually get married to help me cook for his own wedding!”

“Come on, I’d feel awful--”

   “Nonsense, now go get changed! Jack and Yusei can help when they come.

Crow did head upstairs and in the bathroom was his suit, hanging up behind the door. He ran his fingers down the fabric gently. It wasn’t an expensive suit by any means, he didn’t want anything too special. But now that he thought about it, it was going to be special, wasn’t it?

He put it on carefully, making sure nothing was wrong with it. If a button was missing he’d rather realize it now and have time to fix it rather than realize it in pictures days after the wedding. He also looked at his ring finger. His wedding ring would be on there soon wouldn’t it? He heard Brave and the kids picked out the wedding bands and left it as a ‘surprise’, but he had faith they would pick something decent. At least, the kids would.

After that, he worked on his hair. Martha told him to put it back, either tie it or wear it down. However, after working his messy hair down he didn’t feel quite like himself. He groaned looking in the mirror, brushing a few stray hairs out of his face. He would ask for Martha’s help, but she was still busy cooking.

“How are you holding up in there?” Yusei asked after a quick knock. “Not getting cold feet are you?” He teased affectionately. Crow sighed again and opened the door.

“No that’s not it, I just--” He pointed at his hair. “I don’t know what to do about this.”

“Wear it how you usually do. Why should you have to change it?”

“Martha said it’s best to have it down since it’s a formal event--”

“Yeah, and it's your wedding.” Yusei interrupted. Crow had to admit Yusei had a point. “Besides--” Yusei held up a headband in his hand. “I brought you a new one to wear for the wedding. This one should match your suit a lot better.”

“Wow, you sure thought ahead didn’t you.”

“I figured you would just try and walk out there in your usual one, so I wanted to make sure you matched at least.” Crow rolled his eyes.

“Do you seriously think I would go out there in a teal headband and a black suit?” Crow questioned, as he got to work brushing his hair back up. As it dried a bit, it started to fluff up on it’s own. Crow then slipped the headband on, and he already felt more like himself.

“Knowing your fiance’s taste in fashion?” Crow snorted at his comment. Honestly with how mismatched Brave’s outfits were… He might like that. Already Crow was dreading what kind of outfit Brave would show up to the ceremony in. He loved the guy, but he was worried about just how bad it could get. Oh well, it was his wedding too right? If Brave wanted to look like a hot mess in front of their family, he had every right to.

… ‘Their’ family huh? That had a nice ring to it.

“All better huh?”

“Yup. Glad you showed up or I’m not entirely sure what I would have done with it.”

“The best man has to keep everything in order, doesn’t he?” Crow smiled as they bounded down the stairs.

“Yeah, knew I could count on you Yusei.”

“Hmph. You’re finally done.” Jack was down at the bottom of the stairs. Apparently, he wanted to wear a white suit to the wedding, as he usually did. However, Martha scolded him over it and made him buy something else. ‘Only the bride can wear white’ she explained, but Jack rolled his eyes. Instead, he settled on a grey suit with violet and silver accents. It looked nice enough, if not extremely tacky. Brave was gonna love it.

“Yeah yeah, sorry I have to actually look nice for my own wedding.” he bumped into Jack playfully, and Jack shoved him lightly back.

“Don’t try too hard and get your hopes up, after all, you’ll never be more handsome than me.”

“Oh shut it Jack.” Yusei laughed, pulling the two away from their mock fight.

“Don’t ruin your suits before the wedding guys.” Jack huffed and walked away to check on Martha, but the two knew it was just an act. Jack was the one who teared up on the phone when Crow told him he was actually getting married, even if he’d never admit it.

“Alright boys, food’s done so let’s go see how the decorations are coming.” Martha finished fixing her hair in the mirror before heading out the door. The bus took them and all the kids across satellite to the Daedalus Bridge.

Crow was surprised they were actually able to get in. After the whole Bifrost thing and the Arc Cradle, security put fencing around the whole thing. The bridge was dangerous, kids could climb up there and fall off if people weren’t careful, and the waves weren’t very forgiving… But since Crow helped save the city and knew several people in security, he got permission to get married there.

It was weird to see how much the area changed. It was cleared out for the most part. Not many people lived in the B.A.D area to begin with, but with construction and traffic, they were all gone. All that was left were some new smaller shops and storage buildings. His old house the kids used to stay in was long gone, now torn down and covered over with a layer of concrete.

“Reminiscing?” Yusei questioned, seeing where Crow was looking. Crow nodded. “It’s hard to believe so many years ago you lived here, huh?” Yusei didn’t know the place as well as Crow, but it was still somewhere he stayed during the signer war. It was messy and crudely build together, as most places in Satellite were, but it was certainly a home. Probably the kids’ first home they ever knew.

“Yeah… It looks completely different now.” It was better though, safer. Before he was anxious to leave the kids alone, despite having to provide for them. Now there wasn’t violent crime running rampant and his kids were far away from that kind of danger.

“Crow!!” The kids called, and Crow turned to look at them. The kids were around the big container of flowers Aki had brought. Crow rushed over to look all the flowers over along with the kids.

“Woah-!!” When Aki said she would bring flowers, he didn’t think she meant this many.

“What are you so surprised about?” Aki crossed her arms, smiling. “It takes a lot of flowers for a wedding to look nice.” The flowers were in an array of warm colors, mostly red and orange, but there were some yellow, white, pink, and black flowers too.

“Where exactly are you going to put all these?” Crow dared to ask.

“Well, on the fencing, the wedding arch, the chairs, and the rest will be at Martha’s house for the reception.” Crow’s eyes widened.

“What about Brave’s bouquet?” Kokoro asked. Was Brave going to have a bouquet?

“I already made that. He has it right now in some water.” Aki reassured her, before unpacking the flower girl basket. “And here are your flowers.” Kokoro looked overjoyed. He underestimated how much she was looking forward to being the flower girl. “Please help us out with putting up the decorations first though, okay?” Kokoro nodded and put her basket on a table, before helping Aki with flowers and wire. It honestly would have been less of a hassle and a neater job if they hired someone to put the flowers up for them, but where was the personal touch in that? They could just hire someone to clean it up instead.

“So…” Crow started, while also helping Aki and the kids decorate. “...How did Brave’s outfit look?”

“I’m not telling~” Aki laughed, and Crow sighed.

“Can you just tell me if he looked presentable or not?”

“He looks fine Crow! Have a little more faith in him.” Crow was a bit relieved at that. “I know he’s a fashion train wreck most of the time but he knows how to pull things together when they count.”

“Yeah but it’s also his wedding too.” Crow tied an orange and red daisy to a large bow, before adding it to the fence. “If he wanted to wear a tie dye sundress he could.” Aki and the kids seemed to find that thought funny.

“I don’t think he would though.” Aki smiled gently now. “He seems pretty excited for the wedding actually.”

“I’m certainly excited since all of you are keeping so many secrets from me about it.” They all laughed again, and Crow noticed Brave’s kids coming in with Dragan to help set things up. The older kids helped set up chairs and the wedding arc with Dragan, Jack, and Yusei. The younger ones came running over to help tie up flowers and chat with his kids. He was glad they all seemed to get along for the most part.

“Well, we have to keep secrets. That way the day will be very special.” Crow rolled his eyes but smiled regardless. “Besides, it’s bad luck for the groom to see the bride before the wedding.”

“Oh, ‘bride’ now huh?” Hikari elbowed him in the stomach for his comment.

“He can be a bride if he wants!” She seemed pretty annoyed with his behavior.

“Easy now, I’m just joking! You know I don’t care so long as I’m marrying him.” Her cheeks puffed out and she fixed her ponytail before going back to decorating. Crow gave her a pat on the head and she didn’t seem to mind anymore.

Decorating ended up taking more time than he thought. Even with all the hands they had working, it took a while. Martha and Jack also took trips back at the house to put the delivered wedding cake in the freezer. Several people also dropped off gifts there to be unwrapped once the ceremony was over. Carly came as well with her camera in tow. He would make sure to pay her for the photos she took, even if she said she’d do it for free.

Finally, afternoon rolled around, and a car rolled up. Harald went to go pick Brave up in a car, as to not ruin his wedding outfit. However, they were just about to start the ceremony so he couldn’t leave the car yet. Kokoro and Ginga ran back to the car though to greet Brave, as well as get the rings for the ceremony from him.

Crow tapped his foot. He was ready to see Brave. While he did enjoy talking with everyone, catching up with Aki, and having some fun with his kids, he wanted to also start enjoying the day with Brave there too.

Finally, it was time for the ceremony to start. Kuzuyama had even made it in time, Zora and her son Leo followed behind, and an old coworker with a license was going to marry them. Crow stood under the arc and bit his lip a bit. Music started up and he heard the car door open and shut. He wasn’t really able to keep staring straight ahead the whole time, and he turned around to get a good look at his ‘bride’ to be.

Brave looked fine. More than fine actually--he looked great. He was in a white suit, tailored nicely with a black vest under it and an orange tie to compliment Crow’s red one. His now long hair was falling over his shoulders and back, and he was wearing one of his gaudy tiara’s complete with a veil.

His smile was gentle and happy the whole while and throughout the whole ceremony. Crow himself had a giant grin the whole ceremony himself, unable to pull his eyes off Brave. Honestly, the reveal was worth it, Brave looked stunning. He looked gorgeous but most importantly was able to do so while looking like himself. Crow was glad he decided to wear the headband, so he could do the same.

When the rings were brought up, Crow marveled at them a bit. They were gold in the shape of feathers, with various set stones. They matched fairly well and weren’t too big that they would get in the way of everyday life. Brave’s seem to be set with orange and red stones, while Crow’s only had one small black stone. It was still perfect, just what he would have wanted.

During the vows, Brave was tearing up a bit and laughing in joy. It almost moved Crow to tears himself but for the sake of the ceremony he held back. How was he going to say ‘I do’ fast enough if they had to take a break for both of them crying? In the seats, he already heard several people crying.

As it finally came time for the kiss, Crow couldn’t help but be a little be over the top. Besides, Brave kept a lot of surprises for him, why can’t he surprise Brave? He stepped forward, bracing his leg before he swiftly dipped Brave down. Brave gasped a bit in surprise and made sure the tiara wasn’t falling off, before throwing his arm over Crow’s shoulders and smiling fondly up at him. Crow’s characteristic grin was so wide it felt like his face might break. Finally, with an equally swift kiss, he sealed their vows.

As everyone cheered in joy, Crow was just happy Brave was officially a part of the family.

#ygo5dsmonth2017 #crow hogan #brave (5ds) #team ragnarok #aki izayoi #trickstarshipping