#i feel like Greg would say ´who goes there!?´ if he heard a strange noise in the dark

[ato-dato]

Cartoon character lookin ass

#i feel like Greg would say ´who goes there!?´ if he heard a strange noise in the dark #anyway #the script books gave us some insight into their sleepover #this scene was actually planned as well Jesse Armstrong told me himself guys #succession #succession hbo #greg hirsch #tom wambsgans #tomgreg #art #artwork #my art #fanart #digital art #comic #fan comic #illustration #if I had the time and energy I’d draw a bonus comic of Greg lying on the floor next to a still very confused tom going mimimimimi #but alas

[feverinfeveroutfic]

chapter twenty four: sextape

Ruben's new house overlooked the Bay waters, about a block away from the harbor and within range of Alex's parents' neighborhood. If nothing, Sam could walk in between both of their houses. Her father kept his promise and made up a bed for her in that spare room; the dream catcher was back at her mother's house but she knew that she could sleep well knowing that Alex and his parents weren't too far from there. She lay down on the bed that first time around with her feet up against the wall opposite her and she envisioned Alex right next to her.

It felt so strange given she had reached the middle of her twenties and yet she found herself back home with her parents once more. New York felt like a whole other strange world once again, even with her couch still back there.

“I want my couch,” she muttered under her breath at one point. “I miss my couch.”

Then again, she felt like a teenager again, as if she was given another chance at it. There was a boy who lived down the street from her whom she had traded saliva with before and she was trading in between living with her mother and her father, and yet she still had a place to go with her old friends back home in New York. The sole difference was she had reached twenty four rather than fourteen.

She stayed with Ruben for about a week and then she made the trip down to Catalina on the bus and stayed with Esmé for about another few days before she made yet another trip up to the Bay Area. She knew that she would have to settle on some place at some point given the sheer extent of traveling and her feeling as though that things could be better once again: the bus rides through the Central Valley were rather tedious as well and she wondered how in the world Alex made that seven hour car ride so entertaining for himself the day he picked her up from the side of the road.

At some point, right before her next stay on Catalina and there was a longer stop than usual before the end of the line in San Pedro, she spotted a little art shop near the Santa Monica pier and she stepped off of there before the usual one. She knew she would miss the ride back and thus she ran along the sidewalk to that shop up the block. She held onto the top of that fedora Alex had given her with one hand and the courier bag he and his parents had made for her with the other hand. She was about to walk right into an art shop with the Skolnick name right at her back.

Her old journal had been falling apart at the seams for a time at that point, more so than when she and Alex were up at Glenbrook together. She only had one sheet of paper left anyway: she also took his advice and broke down on some page protectors.

A brand new journal, a new set of pencils, and a new chapter of life all for a small price.

She had to run back to the bus stop but she missed it regardless of anything, however. She knew in her heart that her leaving the bus was more than worth it. She stood there under the protective awning with her new tools tucked away in her courier bag and the fedora high upon the crown of her head, and her sunglasses rested upon the bridge of her nose.

Within time, the next bus came and she finished the trip down to San Pedro and she caught the next boat over to Catalina Island.

She had reached there about half an hour later than she had intended with her mother, but she explained it with a mere showing of her courier bag to Esmé.

Sam stayed there at the house for a full night and then the next day, for most of the morning, she had the house to herself. There was only thing she could do, since Alex hadn't given her his number. She dialed that old familiar number once more and she brought the cordless up to her ear.

“Hello?”

That familiar upstate accent.

“Joey?”

“Oh, hi,” he greeted her with a crackling on his end. “I was just thinking about you.”

“Were you now?”

“I was thinking about—how beautiful you are.”

“You're funny, Joey,” she told him as she twirled a lock of hair around her finger.

“But it's true, though,” he said with a clearing of his throat. “I was thinking about how beautiful you really are. Where are you right now?”

“Catalina. My mom's over in Avalon right now, so I have the whole house to myself at the moment.”

“God, I miss that island. It was so cool there.”

“It really is! I love it here. But you know—I love New York, too.”

“I wish you were here, too...” His voice trailed off.

“Are you drunk?” she asked him.

“No? Why would I be?”

“Because you were that one night when Chuck, Alex, Marla, and I were at your place.”

“I wasn't, though,” he pointed out. “I was more starving than I was drunk off my ass.”

“You smelled like booze, too.”

“Sure, I may have had a drink or two over the course of that day. But I wasn't drunk, though. I was lucid—I'm sure you remember me.”

“Yes, I do. How could I forget, really.”

“Sam, I wasn't drunk. I promise you that I was not drunk.”

“What was in that needle, by the way?”

“The needle I used to inject myself with?”

“Yeah, what was in there?”

There was a prolonged pause, such that Sam moved her head forward and her eyes darted about the floor in front of her.

“Joey? Are you there?”

“Yeah.”

“What was in the syringe, Joey?”

“Black—tar—heroin.”

She raised her eyebrows at that.

“Heroin,” she echoed in a soft voice.

“Black tar. It's extra raw so you get a heftier high from it—I guess it makes you sick, too. I didn't tell you—when we were in Europe—you know, when you, Marla, Belinda, and Aurora were with us—Frankie and I did a little bump of cocaine. I gave it up because it made my nose itch like crazy—he might still be doing it as far as I know, but I did it because it was there. But I tried out black tar because it's hefty in its numbing abilities.”

“Why would you want to numb yourself, though?” she asked him, concerned.

“Because I was in a lot of pain then, Sam. You weren't around to comfort me. I had to comfort myself somehow.”

“Charlie told me that they just wanted you to have a break, though, Joey,” she pointed out. “They just wanted a break, too.”

“Is that all?”

“Yeah. Which means—someone's not telling me the whole truth. I don't know if there was a lack of communication or you had something in mind.”

“I guess I just misheard him,” Joey confessed with a sigh.

“I think you did. That's—why I asked you if you were drunk.”

“I think I was just—in the moment then when he called me at the time.”

“In the moment of what?”

Another pause, albeit one that was even longer as a result of that.

“Joey?” she called out to him. “Joey, are you there?”

He cleared his throat, but he didn't say anything further. Just a soft buzzing noise on his end.

“Joey?”

“Picture me there next to you,” he started in a husky voice, “I've got my pants unbuttoned. I'm coaxing you to come on closer to me.”

She froze right in place. “I'm picturing,” she told him in a low voice.

“Come on closer to me,” he begged her, “come on closer and put your hands down the front of my jeans and touch me there. Touch me there, and I'll return the favor to you.”

“Where?” she asked him.

“Keep your voice down.”

“Where?” she asked him again, that time in a near whisper; Esmé was still out of the house and she was in her room, but she had to do it for him.

“Right below the equator. Right inside that lovely bit of sugar you got there. Just give ya a li'l fingerin'.”

“And what if I don't touch you?”

“You use your mouth on me. Use your mouth and then get on top of me.”

“I ride on top?”

“Yes. Right—on top.”

She thought about the tape that she and Chuck had recorded to send out to Bill. She wondered if he had it with him at that point and the whole entire thought of it made her heart hammer inside of her chest from that point onward.

“Should I top it off with a kiss to you after that?” she asked him as she ran her tongue along her top row of teeth.

“Please,” he insisted, still in a low husky voice. “And then I want you to climb the other way around with me.”

“So you can—”

“Put my tongue inside of you, yeah.”

“Oh, my, Joey—what if I wanted to squeeze your ass, like a couple of ripe oranges?”

“What if you wanted to squeeze my ass?”

“How would you like that?”

“I'd like that very much. I'd probably squeeze yours, too—”

There was a click on his end; she also heard the front door close right behind her.

“Hang on, I'm getting another call,” he told her.

“My mom's home, too.”

“Oh, shit! Yeah, you don't wanna get caught talking like this in front of her. I'll talk to you later, though.”

“Joey?”

“Yeah?”

“I love you,” she said.

“I love you, too. I'm glad my own sour stomach was weak enough to keep me from injecting that horrible, horrible shit, otherwise I never would've heard your voice again.”

She smiled at that, and then the two of them hung up at the same time.

His words stayed with her the whole week she was on Catalina, and even more so when she took the bus ride back up the Valley to the Bay Area. The first thing she did was visit the studio to see how Testament was doing, especially with her father being a part of their team now.

Sam pushed open the front door, which hung slightly ajar, so she could hear Alex plucking his guitar and Chuck laughing at something. Even from outside, she was growing familiar with his guitar tone and the elaborate, melodic way in which he played. She rounded the corner to find him there at the sound board, with that red guitar rested upon his lap and with his hair brushed to where it was rather frizzy and fuzzy and stood every which way.

“Hey, you,” she greeted him.

“Hey!” he greeted back to her, complete with a lopsided little smile. Her gaze wandered over to the sound board, where she spotted a series of tapes there, all which had the words “signed and sealed” inscribed on one side.

“Are you guys done?” she asked him, stunned.

“Yeah, it's all been recorded,” he told her, “well, Greg and Louie's parts are, anyway. Eric and I have to put down the guitar work, and then Chuck has to lay down vocals and then it all goes into mixing and mastering.”

“Don't you guys also have to play the songs together, too?” she asked him.

“Yeah, we do! We do that—in about a month or so, or whenever our residency is up anyways. It's like the last thing we do is perform the songs live in studio.”

She looked about the room around them: no one else in there with them, even with the door to the pool room wide open.

“I keep thinking about our encounter in the pool room,” she said to him in a low voice.

“You know, I don't really have a memory of it,” he confessed. “I mean, I sorta do? But it's rather vague, though. All I remember is feeling you up against my body and the next thing I knew, I woke up and I had that strange hickey on my neck. I never had one of those before, but when I took a better look at it, I thought 'is that what I think it is?' Sure enough it was. Again, my memory is real hazy but I do have somewhat of it, though.”

“And we made a pinky promise to one another that we wouldn't speak about it to anyone, either,” she added.

“I do remember that,” he told her with a raise of his eyebrows. “I remember that pretty clearly.”

“Because you puked it all up.”

“I puked it all up but I was still kind of fuzzy in the head, though. But I do remember that part, though. I remember feeling your finger on me, too.”

“I should tell you that you are quite the kisser,” she told him.

“I think you are, too,” he said with a little squint to his eyes. “I can still taste you. Even after all the water I drank up after the fact, I can still taste you on my tongue.”

“Do you remember what else I told you?” she asked him in a soft voice.

“Something about—me being perfect or something along those line?”

“How I want to protect you from things, especially other women.”

“Women are not things, though, Samantha,” he said in a singsong voice and with a wag of his finger. “You ought to know that. You're a woman yourself.”

“Of course,” she retoreted as she rolled her eyes. “But what I mean is I want to protect you, Alex. I think it might be from you being younger than me.”

“Could be. Or it could be the fact that you're out here in California again and your boyfriend is back in New York still.”

“You were a bit drunk, though,” she pointed out.

“I was drunk and feeling every inch of you all over me, like it's some kinda hallucinogen.”

“I kind of wanna tape your mouth shut now,” she admitted.

“Why?” he chuckled at that.

“Tape over your mouth and give you what for below the equator.”

He raised his eyebrows at that, but she realized that he was looking past her. Sam turned around and there was no one behind her.

“I thought I saw Eric back there,” he said as she turned back around and faced him straight on. “Anyways, you wanna tape me up and give me a little something down south?”

“Yes!”

“Lemme ask you this, Samantha—where did all this come from?”

“Hanging out with you and Chuck and Eric and Greg and Louie. That's what.”

“Nah, I'm sure you were feeling like this with Joey and all those guys back East.”

She eyed the veins in his lanky arms: they seemed much more slender, sinewy, and toned than before, as if he had worked out this whole entire time. She brought her gaze up to his face and those deep eyes that she had seen from a whole mile away from the coast line.

“I'll tell you this, though, Alex,” she told him, “—you are nice and soft. For a strong little guy, you sure have the softest body. Like cuddling with a little teddy bear. Or a little pillow.”

“Hey, I ain't little,” he scoffed with a toss of his black hair and a wag of his finger. “If you and I ever get together at some point again in the future—and things get extra passionate between us—I'll show you what I mean.”

She froze for a second, and then she realized what he was talking about. And then she showed him her tongue.

“You are a dirty little boy, aren't you,” she teased him.

“Again—I ain't little. And I might have to wash anyways—I'll be right back.”

He stood up and slung his guitar off of his shoulder, and then he walked on out of there, and into the next room. Given he said that within junction of itself, she wondered if he was actually going to do just that. She turned to the tapes on the sound board, those completed tapes, already recorded and ready to be pieced together for the new album.

A familiar woman's voice caught her ear right then, and she turned for a look to the door of the pool room. She recognized that jet black hair, which had been cut extra short and flipped about at the back of her head. She had put on a bit of weight from carrying two babies, but her protruding belly told Sam that there was something else now.

“Hey! Aurora!” She was stern.

“Sam!” Aurora's face lit up but Sam's arms folded across her chest took that look of joy away as quickly as it came. Eric and Alex stopped right in their tracks in the doorways right there on either side of them: the room fell silent as a result.

They hadn't spoken since that fateful New Year's Eve, but the wounds were still raw with Sam. Aurora glanced back at Eric, who stood there in the doorway of the pool room; he looked as though he was about to head back in there but he never did. She returned to Sam with a serious look on her face.

“Listen—I feel terrible,” she confessed. “I feel so terrible for what I did, for leaving you and the girls behind. But—I have a family now. It's hard for me to focus sometimes—and it was especially then, too. My brain just—wasn't firing on all cylinders. Really, I feel terrible, Sam. I can't believe I did that to you.”

“I see you already have another bun in the oven,” Sam grumbled; she swore that Aurora just had twins that past summer.

“I do, yes. I'm sure you know—I love my daughters. I love Emile. But I also love you, though. I love you and I miss you. And like I said, I feel terrible.” She paused for a moment. “If you're going to blame anyone, blame me.”

Sam parted her lips to say something but no sound came out. Instead, Aurora lowered her gaze and she turned away. Sam's mind went blank and then she turned to Eric and Alex there in the doorways, and the both of them looked so small at the sight before them. Eric then stepped out of the way to let Marla through: her hair still in that neon green, but she carried a small bundle in her arms.

“Our daughters,” Aurora explained, “Phoebe and Elizabeth—I just brought Phoebe with me. Emile's caring for Elizabeth back home right now. I don't know what this baby'll be next but I'm eager to meet him or her.”

She turned to Marla.

“What were you gonna do?”

“I was just take her outside to the porch,” Marla replied as she nodded to the doorway around Alex. “It's kind of stuffy in here and smells like beer.” Alex himself grimaced at that; he stepped out of her way and Aurora followed suit.

Sam, Alex, and Eric congregated there in the middle of the floor; she then turned to Eric.

“I feel like I haven't seen you in a million years,” she told him. “How are you?”

“I'm good, thank you!”

“We're on a roll lately,” Alex said with a glimmer in his eye.

“Hell yeah, we are, my brother.” Eric bumped his fist, and then Alex returned to the sound board for his guitar; Sam peered out the doorway at the sight of Marla and Aurora taking their seats on the porch. There was a small shrub right there at the rim, one decorated with big hot pink flowers. Sam had seen those flowers all over California, especially all over the southern region of the state.

“I don't like those flowers,” she told Eric in a low voice.

“What, those pink ones?”

“Yeah.”

“Why's that?”

“Those are oleanders. They're poison, Eric.”

“Oh, shit.”

“Yeah, look how close they are to them, too.”

Eric cleared his throat.

“Marla,” he called out. “Marla—”

“Just a second,” she told him off, and she adjusted the bundle in her arms, and then she returned to Aurora. “Anyways—”

“Marla!” Eric insisted.

“Just a second, Eric!” she insisted, and she turned back to Aurora. “What was I saying?”

“MARLA!”

She rotated in the chair and fully faced him with Aurora's daughter cradled in her arms.

“What do you want, Eric?” she demanded.

“Get away from that bush!” Sam declared.

“What, this bush right here?” Marla gestured to the hot pink flowers right behind her.

“Yes, those are oleanders—they're poison,” she advised her.

“Oh, shit—” Marla yanked Phoebe away from there.

“Yeah, go wash—” Sam proclaimed, and she and Eric looked at one another, horrified. Marla hurried off of the porch and headed back inside of the short corridor before them and into the bathroom. Aurora lifted up her chair and inched away from there.

“That was close,” Eric said as he headed back to the pool room.

“For real!” Sam returned to Alex, who had taken his seat there once again and played around with the volume on his guitar. He raised his head and showed her a soft expression.

“I feel like if you go back to New York now,” Alex told her in a low voice, “you'll be seen as a hick.”

“Why's that?”

“Because you're in touch with nature,” he said with a shrug of his shoulders, “I dunno, just something about being in a place like New York and knowing about things like oleanders.”

“That's probably why I loved upstate so much,” she recalled in a soft tone.

“There's also—this is just from what I've seen traveling through there and from touring—like a bluntness with New York, too. You like things that are nice and soft. It's okay, though—my dad tells me that time makes you stronger as it passes along.”

“I'll buy that,” she said, “I definitely feel stronger now than I was five years ago, before I moved to New York in the first place.”

“Don't blame ya,” he told her with a shake of his head and the little gray tuft over his head waved about like a little flag. “Five years—you've been through a lot, Samantha.”

“I really have,” she said in a low voice. “I really genuinely have, Alex.”

Louie strode past them right then with little black gloves on his hands. He gave his hair a slight toss back and showed her a grin.

“Poison garden,” she declared.

“Poison mother fuckin' garden,” he echoed her as part of his greeting and he gave her a bump of the fist.

“I don't know what that means,” Alex confessed, “but poison garden!”

Sam and Louie burst out laughing at that.

“When we were on a road trip together,” she explained to him, “we talked about starting a garden that's consisted of nothing but poison plants.”

Alex froze for a second, and then he burst out laughing, and then he looked on at her with a mortified look on his face.

“Poison plants? Like—deadly nightshade and—”

“Oleanders, too,” Louie added.

“Yeah, we discussed oleanders,” Sam continued, “mainly because they grow like weeds in the south land in particular. But yeah, deadly nightshade, oleanders, strychnine, among others. You can join us if you so wish, Alex.”

“I'd rather have a stake in it, thank you,” he said with a nervous chuckle.

“A stake in poison!” Louie declared. “Right on.”

“A stake in poison and sex tape,” Sam blurted out, to which Alex shushed her, but Louie had already walked away at that point. Marla returned out of the bathroom, still with the bundle in her arms.

"Marla!" Sam called out to her, and she padded closer to the doorway.

"Did Bill ever get the thing?" Marla hesitated for a second and then her face lit up.

"He did, as a matter of fact! Dave called me right before I flew out here and he said 'the eagle has landed.'"

"Hell yeah," Alex declared with a mischievous grin on his face.

"By the way," Sam added, "you look like a mom holding that baby in your arms." She turned to Alex. "Wouldn't you agree, Alex? She looks like a mom."

"Yeah, even with the green hair," he said.

Marla shrugged her shoulders.

"I dunno 'bout that," she confessed. "I've never felt like mommy type like with Aurora back here. But, I'll take that as a compliment, though. Thanks, guys." She showed them a smile before she ducked back onto the porch.

"Speaking of mommies," Alex said under his breath, and Sam took a glimpse over at him.

"What'd you say?" she asked him.

"Nothing." And he continued plucking and messing with the dials.

#fanfic #fanfiction #testament fanfic #anthrax fanfic #testament band #testament #anthrax #chapter 24 #book four #souls of black #fever in fever out #fever in fever out fanfic #joey belladonna #joey belladonna x oc #alex skolnick #eric peterson #louie clemente #also on wattpad #also on ao3 #text #writing

[weeping-petals]

We Come in Peace

Word Count - 3,292

At the most intolerable time of the night, Vidalia heard noises in her home. She goes to investigate, prepped to take down any intruder.

Some sort of sound awoke her from the first soundless night sleep she’s had in some weeks. Most likely a leaky pipe or the house settling.

 Whump!

 Well, that was one hell of a leak. She’d rather slip back off into sleep, and deal with whatever fall out was present in the morning. Something about the sound, or sounds, unsettled her, and she wasn’t gliding back into a graceful slumber. Curiosity and a slice of anxiety plucked at her mind, and she had to do something if she wanted to feel comfortable enough to salvage whatever remained of the night.

 Vidalia pushed herself upright and eased her legs out from under the blankets. She couldn’t find her slippers right off the get go, and decided to let them go. She wanted to be as noiseless as possible. She tugged on her housecoat, and on her way out of the bedroom, plucked up a baseball bat kept beside her doorframe

 It was easily far beyond the middle of the night, and her eyes were adjusted enough to see the walls and furnishings of her home. She stopped at the stairs edge and listened to the eerie silence that invaded the house. Barely the airflow from the vents, and nothing within the walls stirred. It could’ve easily been dishes shifting in the drain rack.

 “Ow.”

 That was clearly a voice.

 Vidalia gripped the banister tightly with one hand, the other kept the bat braced over her shoulder. The resonance emerged from downstairs. Something shuffled around, then the off stillness rekindled. Her steps came light and feathery, but her iron grip on the banister caused the wood to creak.

 Somewhere in the darkness, a glint. No sound emitted, though she saw movement. Something skittered from one room to the next, and it shimmered.

 “Okay, you!” she boomed, putting all the growl in her announcement. Someone gasped. There was a light switch nearby, on the wall beside the stairs. “Stay right where you are or I’ll crack you in two!”

 Light emitted from some unknown source. It came on like a lamp, beneath a chin, button nose, and eyes. But it was too blinding and intense for Vidalia’s sheltered eyes, and she squinted and braced an arm against the intensity.

 Something grabbed the bat drooping in her hand. Not forceful, but it was a firm grip. “What the—”

 “Douse the light, ya goon.”

 “All right, who’s there?” She tried to wrench the bat away. No go. Everything had taken on a drab and black hue, her eyes screwed by the light and abrupt blackout. “I’ll knock ya’ll to the stars if I don’t get answers.”

 “Is that an invitation?” the earlier voice snickered. It was very childish. “Hold that thought.”

 For a second nothing happened. Then, the light in the kitchen came on. Not so intense, but enough illumination to give order to a previous, impervious curtain. What the heck?

 Two people stood in her living area. They looked like people, at least. One looked no bigger than a child, with a lilac complexion and large round eyes. The other looked like it was straight from an Alice in Wonderland fever dream. The latter was gripping the bat. She tried to tug it loose, but no dice.

 “We come in peace.”

 “What are you doing in my home?” she growled.

 “We’re kind of looking for someone.” The taller one released the bat and took a step back, hands held aloft. “But not seeking them out. Well, we know where he is.”

 “George,” pipped the little one.

 “Jim,” grinned the other.

 Vidalia blinked. “Greg?”

 “I told you this was the right house,” cheered the small one.

 “Super. A good job all around.” She patted the smaller one on the head.

 Vidalia snapped her fingers, catching their attention. “It’s the middle of the night. I want you both out of my house. Or I’ll toss you out in pieces.” For emphasis, she raised the bat once more.

 “Rude.” The taller one sighed, and spun away. “Come on, then. Back to the ol’drawing board.”

 “I hate the drawin’ board.” The other moaned. “I never see it, but we’re always hitting it. We should just get rid of it.” She followed the tall, right to the front door.

 Vidalia followed, bat slung over her shoulder. It occurred to her, who these ‘people’ might be associated with. “You two know Greg?”

 “Jess? Yus. We know him.” She grinned. “I know his name. The expressions he makes when you get it wrong. The best!”

 The small one morphed into the size and build, an exact copy of Greg Universe. Aside from the color. Vidalia took a step back, priming to use the bat. Just WHAT the explicit?

 “That’s the face. That one! You’re good, Amethyst. But there’s something behind the scowl. A raw, unrefined emotion.” She clasped her hands to the heart shaped rock fitted into her chest.

 “What are you!”

 “We’re magical girls,” the Greg mimic rasped, in an exaggerated masculine voice. Masculine for Greg, at least.

 “From out of town?” The other shrugged. “You might’ve overdone it.”

 “Wait. Hold up the phone.” Vidalia looked them over. The purple Greg reverted back into the wee shape, same as before. The other had her hand on the doorknob, and wore a sheepish grin. “You two are with that magical girl, he’s all about worshipping? ‘Oh, she’s amazing! I never met anyone like her.’” She debated briefly, deepening her voice. “‘She’s out of this world!’”

 The tall, lanky one snapped her fingers and did little guns. “Nailed it.” The smaller one, she guessed her name was Amethyst, clapped.

 “Well. It’s super late, and I am very-very cross right now. I tell you what, come back when the sun is up and maybe I’ll… what was it you wanted from Jack? You’re looking for him?”

 “Not really. He’s no good at hide and seek.”

 “He parked an earth vehicle by the temple. It’s small on the inside, really-really small. Smaller than you’d expect.” Amethyst put her hands together, forming a shrinking box.

 “Earth tech. What ya gonna do?”

 “Okay, I get it.” Vidalia raised the bat towards the door. “Out of my house, now. Until the sun comes up. Then we can talk, but no earlier.” The tall opened the door and stepped aside, to let Amethyst spring out, like a cat shot loose. “And I don’t mean the crack of dawn, either.” Vidalia took the door handle and leaned out. “Wait until the sun is high up. In the center of the sky.”

 “We get it,” the tall called back. “Noonish.”

 The remainder of the night was odd for Vidalia. She was able to get back into the sleep, but she had weird dreams. The most memorable was going into her garage and finding hordes of purple Greg Universe’s. Another that weirded her out was a child picking flowers, but then not knowing who to give them to.

 Throughout her short morning, she pandered around the house. More or less refining job applications that needed to get dropped off, and doing work in the spare room. She began to wonder if the strange people (she’ll use the term loosely) would come back, or if they lost interest. She could really do without the company, but if they were hellbent on storming her home, she wanted the fiasco out of the way.

 Finally, somewhere around noonish, voices lifted from downstairs.

 Vidalia growled to herself and put away the paintbrush. She took off her smock and left the room.

 Yep, there they were. Amethyst was bouncing on the couch, while the lanky thing examined a vase of flowers. Though she recalled they were self-declared aliens, it did not excuse their flippant disregard for a proper summons. “Do either of you know how to knock?”

 “Your door was unlocked,” offered the tall. She wasn’t so much as tall, as taller than the small purple thing. “Also, you were expecting us.”

 Note to self. Lock. The. Door. “Is that how you got in the other night?”

 “Er, uh… well….”

 “Spinel slipped under the—” Amethyst fell off the couch.

 “So Spinel and Amethyst.” Vidalia crossed her arms. Spinel turned her way and looked fairly annoyed, at least. “Come on then, you vandals. Let me freshen up my hospitality skills. I’ll even show you how to knock and wait for a door to open.”

 “I’m exploding with excitement,” muttered Spinel.

 Vidalia led them into her kitchen and put some water on the stove. “What’s your poison?”

 “Poison?” Spinel choked.

 “It’s an expression.” When Vidalia spun around, Amethyst was sitting at the table. Spinel was still standing at the doorway, looking at pictures on the wall. “I only got drinks for now. What’ll you have?”

 “Can I have some popcorn?”

 “Popcorn isn’t a drink,” Spinel grumbled. “Unless you toss it in a blender.”

 “We’re not making gross smoothies in this house. Normal drinks. I have tea, cocoa, juice….”

 Spinel grinned. “Where’s the gin?”

 “No gin.”

 “Beer?”

 Vidalia thumped down a box of assorted teas. “No alcohol. Zip!”

 “Can I get juice on the rocks?”

 Spinel looked about to say something, but redacted. “Cocoa?”

 When Vidalia served the drinks, Amethyst whined. “These aren’t rocks!”

 Vidalia speculated; she should’ve known. “I didn’t feel like going out and collecting the rocks,” she explained. “You’ll have to make do with cold, hard, water.”

 “If you don’t want your juice.” Spinel sat at the table and began inching the cup from Amethyst’s hands. Amethyst’s response was to snatch the cup back and hiss.

 “Possessive.”

 Spinel twirled her finger around. “Only if it falls within her small radius. Then, consider it a loss.” She starred at the mug set before her, while Amethyst messily slurped at her juice.

 “Careful. It’s a tad hot.” Vidalia sat across from the two, with her own mug and tea steeping. She stirred the liquid, causing the amber colors to swirl. “We haven’t done proper introductions. You two are.”

 “Hmm.” Spinel rolled her eyes. “You already know our names.”

 “Imma smol Amethyst.” The bubbly gem stood on her chair and waved.

 “Spinel,” the other hissed through her teeth. She sniffed at the contents of her mug.

 “Nice. I’m Vidalia.” She blew at the hot vapor wafting. “You’re aware His Universe only shows up ‘round these parts when he’s bumming a meal.”

 “Can we have meal?”

 “Sorry.” Vidalia propped her chin on her hand. “I need to do some shopping.”

 “Can I have those, then?” Amethyst pointed to the tea bags, which Vidalia swirled in her brew. She blinked, at a loss. She glanced Spinel’s way. The Spinel flicked her hand.

 “What have we told you about asking for things?”

 “Please!”

 Spinel groaned and facepalmed.

 “It’s fine. If it doesn’t hurt her.” Magical girls, right? Or aliens. Whatever they were. Spinel didn’t appear super concerned, when she handed over the sopping teabags. What was their relationship, anyway? She got the impression that Amethyst was a younger sibling. She tried to recall anything else Greg might’ve mentioned, but honest, she tended to tune out a lot of whatever he rambled about when he got into a swoon for Rose.

 “So, any particular reason why you broke into my home at an intolerable hour?”

 Spinel hummed. “That Jessica comes by this place pretty regularly.”

 “I fed him one time.” Vidalia sipped her tea. That was good. “And you said he stays wherever your group dwells.”

 “Yee.” Spinel squinted her eyes. “You’re the only human ‘round these parts familiar with him. We sorta are curious how well you know him. Nothing too deep, your impression will do.”

 Vidalia stifled a titter. “Probably about as well as you know him. By now, you might know him better. He and I share a common… acquittance. That’s about it.”

 “You gonna drink that?” When Amethyst reached for the mug, Spinel slapped her hand. “Ow….”

 “Do you want some cocoa, too?”

 Amethyst sucked on her entire hand, while she glared at Spinel’s mug. “Na-o.”

 “You’re human,” Spinel resumed. She sipped the cocoa. “There are cues and things you should be better at catching, than us. Do you trust him?”

 This was absolutely adorable. How many of these characters were there? And who else had to bother with their shenanigans. The only thing that could make this even better, was if Greg smelled food from the other end of town and came by. Vidalia kept her poker face, feigning irritation.

 “I trust him to wipe his feet before coming into my home. Even that’s iffy.” Spinel looked over the rim of her mug as she began chugging the whole lot of cocoa. These two were interesting, at least.

 “My turn. It’s my turn! Can I ask a question now?” Amethyst piped.

 Vidalia nodded. “Can’t stop you.”

 “Why are you so fat?”

 And now there was cocoa on the table. Spinel choked and collapsed from the chair. Amethyst leaned over the table side. “You still want that drink?”

 “Amethyst! Rude!” Spinel gurgled. “You can’t ask those kinda questions.”

 “What? I’m curious! You don’t mind, do you V? You’re like… a pear!”

 “Oh! My! Stars!”

 Vidalia was far detached from amused. Was it wise to explain this to aliens? She really didn’t want to explore that rabbit hole. “If you must know, I’m pregnant.”

 And silence.

 “Prag-nant?” Amethyst uttered. Spinel’s head popped up.

 “You’re what?”

 “Pregnant.” Vidalia stood from her chair and went to the sink. “Do either of you know what that is?”

 Amethyst grabbed one of Spinel’s pigtails. “What’s—”   

 “You know what pregnant is.” Spinel swatted her hand aside. She joined Vidalia at the sink. “I’ll do that. Sorry about the mess.”

 “Knock yourself out. I kind of didn’t expect any of this today.”

 “Okay-okay. So, there’s this small human inside you,” Amethyst was saying. “But, that makes no sense? Isn’t it weird to have another human inside you?” Spinel pressed the wash cloth to her face and stifled a scream. “What! You and Pearl suck at explaining this stuff.” Loud screaming behind that cloth.

 “Yeah. Did not see my afternoon taking this sharp left.” Usually, Vidalia didn’t like talking about this topic, but most people were interested in where the father was. Amethyst resembled a little kid, glowing with fascination and no filter AT ALL. And Spinel being completely mortified was too good to pass up.

 “All right, lemme give these ‘maternal discussions’ a whirl. I’ll do my best, or my worst.” Vidalia sat across from Amethyst and clapped a hand over the gems. “What can I tell you?”

 Five cups of juice later, Amethyst stopped asking questions and had the expression of learning all the deepest secrets of the universe. “Humans are crazy,” she murmured, at last.

 Spinel was… uncoiled. That’s the best that Vidalia could describe it. Across the table. Like a slinky. No bones at all. Boneless alien. “Organics are crazy,” she corrected.

 “What? I’m curious now,” Vidalia scoffed. “How is it you… er, your kind, populate?”

 “I popped out of the ground.”

 “Well,” Spinel snickered, “we’re not actually sure that’s where you came from. A bird might’ve brought you by. You were so late.”

 Amethyst crossed her arms and leaned back in the chair. “You weren’t there. I remember it like it was yesterday.”

 “Well, that explains zero of what I asked,” Vidalia muttered. “Popped out. Like a worm? Of course. Makes perfect sense, when you don’t think about it.”

 “But why?” Amethyst demanded. At first, the question confused Vidalia. Amethyst gestured with her hands. “Is there a point in making another human. Especially, if you can’t do anything with her at first? Babies sound kind of lame.”

 “Amethyst….”

 “What? I’m right!”

 “Eh,” Vidalia shrugged. “Reasons. Lots of reasons. For me… I really didn’t take stock of… some things that came up. Life’s like that sometimes. You get caught up in a moment, and wham. Life happens.”

 “Oh, that’s poetic.”

 “But…” Amethyst struggled with her thoughts. She looked to Spinel, maybe for inspiration, but got none, so looked back to Vidalia. “A baby becomes an eventual human person.”

 “Not all at once. I have some time to figure this out. I’ve been getting some practice on that Jayden fellow.”

 “Greg,” Spinel mumbled. She craned her head against the table and laughed.

 “I make a lot of jabs at him.” Vidalia collected the cups set around Amethyst’s area. She began, but Spinel recoiled her limbs and stood. Curious, she sat back and let the lanky gem do her thing. “He’s been there for me a few times. Y’know, not just for freebees. I think he feels a bit guilty.”

 Spinel loitered at the sink. “Guilty? Why?”

 “For knowing a goon like his old manager. Our common acquittance.” Vidalia explained babies, but didn’t elaborate on her expected child. She hoped the hula-hoop didn’t think she… and Greg. Eh, it could’ve been worse. “That’s the sort of person he is. Soft. Easy to wrangle into doing odds and ends. A lot of heart, a lot of passion for the things that are special to him. Truth be said, I’m more worried about him, than whatever you think he might do to upset your friend.”

 Amethyst blinked owlishly, while Spinel cackled, shoulders shaking. “What makes you think we’re worried about him hurting anyone? Least of all, our Rose?” She wiped a tear from her eye. “If you knew what she was capable of….”

 Vidalia crossed her arms. “Yet here you two are. I appreciated the company, but this isn’t a pleasantry visit.”

 “I’m havin’ a pleasant all time,” Amethyst proclaimed, turning her nose up. “Pip-pip, cheerio.”

 “Y’know what, Amy. You’re really cute.”

 “Wanna keep her?”

 “I’ll do good getting through the infant years of human baby. But, if you gals need to, you can pop over to check in if it makes you feel better.” She fixed Spinel with a glower. “At a reasonable hour of the day. When the sun is up.”

 “Noted.” Spinel stretched her limbs. Stretched, like a sentient rubber band. “I’ll be headed out, then. You coming, Amy?”

 “Nope. I got more questions.” The smaller gem popped off her chair, and took Vidalia’s mug to the sink.

 “Only if V doesn’t mind.” She looked to Vidalia. “You need me to drag her off? Stick her in a sack? Mug her?” She inspected the mug handed to her. “Lemme know.”

 Vidalia waved her hand. “Thanks for the offer. I think I can handle her for a bit. It wasn’t entirely terrible meeting you, Spin.” She got out of her chair and offered a hand. The gem looked at it, smile fading from her cheeks. “You have shaken hands before, haven’t you? Or… do you prefer hugs?” It was worth a shot.

 Spinel recoiled, and something flashed in her eyes. “Amethyst. Don’t be too much of a pest.” She left like that; skulked off. Vidalia wanted to walk her out, but Spinel was already gone through the front door. “Bye, then.”

 “Wow,” Amethyst hummed. “She’s usually a big grouch.”

 “Really. Missed that out of all her glowing personality.” Vidalia looked at Amethyst, and regarded the strange little alien. Rock. “Have you done any sort of painting?”

 “I did mud painting with my fingers.” She wriggled the digits up at Vidalia.

 “Good enough.” She gestured, as she departed the kitchen area. “I have a project you and I can work on. Then maybe I’ll show you my studio.”

 “What’s a studio?”

 “It’s where you go to explore your talent, entice a potential client with said talent, and then he up and leaves you when he realizes you won’t exploit your talent for ‘exposure’.”

 Amethyst followed her up the stairs. “Marty sounds like a fat jerk.”

  “He will always be a fat jerk in my heart.”

#steven universe #su fanfic #spinel #steven universe fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfic #vidalia fanfic #spinel fanfic #vidalia #spinel fanfiction #amethyst fanfic #amethyst #steven universe the movie #su the movie #crystal gem spinel #marty

[janeofcakes]

FJW: Chapter 14

** I was going to taunt you all with a super short chapter and I just couldn’t do it. You’ve all been so great to me. So please, sit back and enjoy this one. I, for one, will be eating pita chips and hummus. OMG, hummus.... **

John closes the street door to 221 softly and takes the steps two at a time. He hopes his flatmate took the advice he gave before he left that morning and is asleep in bed. Or the sofa or with his head on his desk, John really doesn’t care. Sherlock has taken case after case, working non-stop and getting no sleep since John woke from the Eurus nightmare. John and Rosie have seen precious little of the detective in the two weeks since that night. The few times he has been home and not busy with Rosie, John has tried to talk to him - find out why Sherlock is so certain John will push him out of his life. John cannot think if a single situation that would make him do that. Leaving never crossed his mind when he remembered Eurus. Why would it? Sherlock wasn’t to blame, no matter how much he seems to want to blame himself.

Sherlock has dodged and deflected John’s every attempt to talk. He is clearly avoiding John and it isn’t fair to Rosie. John and their daughter love spending time together, getting to know one another, but both have missed Sherlock and it has started showing more in Rosie in the last few days. The light in her eyes is dimmer without him. Sherlock may not want to answer John’s questions about their past, but he will bloody talk to John about Rosie. John will see to that.

He unlocks the flat door and closes it quietly. He takes a step and stops cold. He can hear voices in the kitchen. He approaches silently, wanting all the information he can get. It is definitely his flatmate and Mrs. Hudson. John knows he shouldn’t eavesdrop, but he can’t tear himself away after what his flatmate says.

“You’re avoiding him, Sherlock!” Mrs. Hudson says loudly. “It’s plain as the nose on your face.”

“I don’t know what else to do!” Sherlock sounds frantic. “He wants me to tell him about the past.”

“Well, why don’t you? He’s a grown man, Sherlock. He can decide for himself how he wants to handle things.”

“But Dr. Hoover…”

“Oh, hang the doctor! She makes recommendations not laws. If John wants to know…”

“I don’t want him to know!” the detective shouts. The entire flat goes silent. John is afraid they will hear his breaths coming faster now or the heartbeat that echoes loudly in his own ears. “When he finds out everything, when he finds out the truth, he will leave me. He will hate me again and he will take Rosie and he will leave.”

John blinks in shock. Sherlock never calls Rosie by name. Mrs. Hudson once told John the only time she ever heard the man use the girl’s given name was when daycare had called to say she had fallen. They thought her elbow was broken and in need of A & E. It was the same conversation in which John asked why he calls her Watson. Mrs. Hudson didn’t know.

“Sherlock,” the woman says gently now, “you underestimate him and his feelings for you.”

“His feelings?” Sherlock snipes with a mirthless laugh. “I know exactly what he thinks he feels. He thinks we’re a couple!”

And there it is. John’s heart goes cold and he can feel it crack right down its middle. His eyes sting with tears and he just manages to silence the gasp on his lips with the back of his hand. He was right. He was right when he and Greg were at the pub that night. Sherlock met someone else. He loves someone else and doesn’t have the heart to tell John. He let him move back in because he had nowhere else to go and let him sleep in his bed because John wouldn’t have understood why he had been shunned. So many things make sense now. Why Greg was so surprised when John told him he and Sherlock sleep in the same bed. Sherlock trying so hard to sleep on the sofa and the total lack of physical contact. There’s so much you don’t know. Things have changed. You won’t feel that way when you know it all.

John stumbles backwards and he does gasp then - like someone hit him in the chest.

“What was that?” Mrs. Hudson asks.

John runs. He runs to the door and throws it open. He hurries down the stairs, nearly falling halfway and slams out of the building. He sprints to the left to avoid the sitting room window in case Mrs. Hudson looks out while the detective pursues him. He bolts along the pavement, working himself in and around groups of people so Sherlock will lose sight if he is following. John finally slips into a narrow alley blocks away from his home. He leans his back against the wall, breathing hard and letting his head fall back until it meets the cold brick. Tears are streaming down his face. He squeezes his eyes shut tight and clenches his teeth in pain. His chest hurts. Like his heart was ripped from it, except John knows it is still there because it is broken and John doesn’t think it will ever be whole again.

An hour later, John is sitting on a bench in Regent’s Park staring blankly ahead. He can’t go back home. He doesn’t know how to go back. It isn’t his home anymore. Isn’t his life, his love. He feels lost and so alone, and he can’t help thinking he has felt this way before. His heart broken, his mind and body adrift, no one to turn to. And he feels that Sherlock was at the center of that too. Must have been when Sherlock...when he died. John lets his eyes close slowly, no idea what to do and suddenly so tired.

“John? John Watson?”

The doctor opens his eyes to see a short, stout man with dark hair and glasses approaching. He wears a smile on his face. John straightens his posture and squares his shoulders, determined go look as normal as possible.

“John, it is you!” the man is right in front of him now, shaking John’s hand with both of his. “May I?”

“Of course.”

The man sits on the bench, his body turned so he is facing John.

“God, it’s been years,” he exclaims with a brilliant smile. “Not since the wedding. How have you been?”

“Wedding?” John replies in a quiet voice. The strange response doesn’t seem to bother the man.

“This is amazing, isn’t it? Meeting like this again after what, seven years, almost eight. Or is it longer?” he laughs. “And what did I say to break the ice back then? ‘I heard you joined the army so you could get shot’?”

The man laughs jovially while John bites his lip. He swallows and fixes the man with serious eyes.

“Well, actually,” he begins as the man goes quiet, the smile melting off his face.

“Oh, god,” he puts a hand on John’s shoulder. “Oh god, no. It didn’t happen again. I’m so sorry. I knew you kept on working at the surgery and with Sherlock, you said as much at the wedding, but I never imagined… How’s Mary? Are you both okay? Do you need anything?”

“Mary?”

“Yes,” the man finally seems to catch on that something is off. “Your wife, Mary Morstan. John, are you all right?”

John’s eyes are wide with shock. His mouth hang opens, but his voice fails him. His wife. His wife? He was married. He was married. And where was Sherlock? How could he have done that to him? What the fuck? John clenches his eyes shut for a second, just a second and then opens them wide again, because memories claw and rasp at him when they are closed. The darkness of a pane trying to cut him with its slowly falling shards.

“I’m sorry. I have to go,” John stands all in a rush and starts away from the bench. The man doesn’t stand or follow, but clearly considers it. His face is a mixture of confusion and alarm. John turns to half face him again without stopping. “I’m fine. I just, I have to go. Sorry.”

His fast pace turns into a run and he doesn’t stop until he reaches 221. John unlocks the door and bursts inside, closing the door to shut out the world behind. He claps his back against it and closes his eyes - sharp points of black glass tracing his skin - they fly open and he stares straight ahead at the staircase leading up to his flat. He breathes heavily, his heart hammering in his ears for the second time that day. This time the sound of violin music cuts through the noise of it. John shifts his gaze to the top of the stairs. Is this realization what his flatmate is afraid of? Sherlock must give him answers.

As John starts up the stairs, he pulls his mobile from his pocket to check the time. They won’t have to go for Rosie for another three hours, plenty of time to extract secrets from his flatmate. He drops the phone back into his pocket and his pace slows until he is standing still on two different steps near the top of the case. The song Sherlock plays is so familiar, so sad, written for him. John narrows his eyes in concentration and glass shatters in his mind. He played it at the reception while John danced. He danced with Mary. She was blonde, his height, beautiful smile. He met her while Sherlock was dead.  And something else. She is Rosie’s mother. She and John had a child while they were married. John is Rosie’s father. Her ‘real’ father. John closes his eyes and inhales deeply, almost painfully, as Sherlock’s words come back to him.

John flies up the remaining steps and into the flat. Without stopping until he is in the sitting room, he stands stalk still staring at his flatmate’s back as he plays to the window. Sherlock does not stop or turn around, but he knows John is there.

“I’ve had a call from Mike Stamford,” he says.

“Mike? Of course. The man in the park.”

“Yes.”

“Who is Mary Morstan?” John asks breathlessly. He knows, but there’s so much he doesn’t. He needs to know.

Sherlock’s hand stills and John hears him sigh. He turns to his desk, placing the violin and bow carefully on its surface. With his arms straight, he rests his hands on the desk and stares down at it.

“She was your wife. You met her while I was,” he pauses and takes a deep breath. “When I was dead. She gave you comfort when no one else could. You’d moved out of the flat and you met her. She had moved in with you and you intended to propose marriage the night I returned.”

“She’s Rosie’s mother.”

“Yes,” Sherlock nods once, still not looking at John. The doctor comes closer.

“That song. You played it at the wedding,” he says gently. “You left early.”

Sherlock raises his head and meets John’s eyes.

“I didn’t think you noticed.”

“I noticed.”

“You never said.”

“There are a lot of things we never said,” John breathes, “aren’t there?”

Sherlock stares, grappling with emotion. He watches as John comes nearer and touches his arm with just fingertips.

“I can see the wedding. Nothing else,” John shakes his head. “Who is Mary Morstan? Please tell me, Sherlock. Please.”

A moment later, they sit in their respective chairs facing one another. John is still utterly torn apart by his flatmate’s words to Mrs. Hudson, but the feeling is eclipsed by what he feels now looking at Sherlock’s face. He is sad, forlorn, resigned, like mere threads hold him together. He has told John how he and Mary met, who she was, and how Sherlock met her. He fills in the blanks of the wedding and tells John about his deduction at the reception, the pregnancy and birth. John can’t help but feel it all leads up to something terrible and begins to wonder what exactly happened to Mary Morstan. Are they still married and if so, where is she? Why is she never with Rosie? Why doesn’t Rosie ever talk about her? It had never occurred to John to ask. He had always assumed he and Sherlock had found a surrogate.

“It wasn’t until after the wedding,” Sherlock’s words interrupt John’s thoughts, “that we discovered she was an assassin.”

“What?” John can barely get the word out in his shock.

“She was being blackmailed by a man called Magnussen She intended to kill him to hide her secret life. She wanted to be a mother. To be with you,” his gaze drops as he remembers.  “But I caught her at it. Later, when it became clear there was no other way to protect you, I killed him myself.”

“Sherlock,” the word is breathless. John’s every feature reflects his shock as he shakes his head slowly in disbelief. “Christ, Sherlock, why would you do that?”

“You said the same thing then, all those years ago,” Sherlock whispers and then speaks firmly. “I made a vow. I said I would protect both of you, and your unborn child. It was the only way to do that. To protect you from Mary’s past.”

“Jesus. And you’re not in prison because of Mycroft?”

“No, even he could not help me. Eurus began trying to lure you to the well. She saved me by making us all believe a dangerous enemy had come back from the dead. When I solved the case, my freedom was the British government’s showing of gratitude.”

John watches him carefully, reading every sign and nuance of Sherlock’s expression and movement. He tilts his head in thought and wets his lips.

“There’s more,” he says experimentally, knowing Sherlock will return his gaze. “Something with you and Mary. She hurt you.”

The detective’s eyes are wide with surprise and his jaw drops, but he closes it quickly. He forces his grey eyes to go steely. John gives him a stern, but imploring look, hoping he won’t shut down and refuse to tell him more.

“What is it, Sherlock? Tell me, please.”

“She shot me,” his voice is barely audible. John gasps in horror. “You found me and took me to emergency. I died on the table and came back for you. To protect you.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I did. I told you everything.”

“Oh my god,” John cannot believe what Sherlock has told him, but he knows his friend would never lie. John is dismayed and utterly disgusted with himself. “Why the hell didn’t I leave her? How could I have stayed with a killer? She tried to kill you and you’re...you’re everything!”

“It was complicated,” Sherlock shrugs. “You’d just married her, she was carrying your child. You didn’t want to lose that, so I convinced you to stay.”

“What?!” John barks. “She nearly killed you, Sherlock! Why the fuck would you do that?”

“To make you happy. You loved her.”

“I love you!”

“No.”

“Yes, Sherlock.”

“I killed her!”

@echosilverwolf @technicallywiseoncns @vvaticancameoss @cow-mow@philliphooper@whodwantmeasaflatmate@swissmissing@gloriascott93@kingdomofbrokenhearts@srebrnafh@thetranslucentwallaby@britishaccentfan@plasticstrawsmuggler@spazzz32@absentmindedsstuff@shuukichan @annecumberbatch@maeliandmyself @welcometomyharddrive 

#Sherlock Holmes #Sherlock #sherlockholmes #sherlock fanfic #john watson #johnwatson #johnlock #Johnlock fanfic #hurt john #memory loss #season 4 #S4 fix

[sabergowitz]

GHD

Groundhog Day Broadway reaction post!!!! I’ve been waiting to see it for like a year and a half, and boy howdy do I like this show. I saw one preview, opening night, and once front row! General thoughts, plus a section at the bottom for opening night specifically (aka me stressing unnecessarily about his injury)

Disclaimer one: I wrote about spoilers, stuff I like, stuff I don’t like, staging, the whole nine. largely show-chronological. may not make sense to you unless you’ve seen the show

Disclaimer two: I wrote this on a bus in the middle of the night so it is not the most coherent. 

tl;dr all the people who say “i’m too busy literally spinning on bill murray’s dick to even consider seeing this show” can suck my fucking toe

ACT I

one of the screens in the beginning shows phil talking about the weather on mars? wot is tha abah

that beginning-of-frozen/come from away swag in ‘there will be sun’, that mountain sound. one of the reviewers pointed this out too

I saw one of the reviewers say that not one song was memorable to them after the show??? I don’t know what they were smoking, because I’ve had ‘day one’/””””small town usa”””” stuck in my head since I first saw it

the punxsutawney jingle is so disneyland-ready it’s scary

barrett never enunciates "flood" story. the first time I heard it I was like "blood story? wat"

Also re: barrett -- she fits the character so well and I LOVE her singing voice!!! I think her acting is mostly In Service Of andy, which, duh -- but I’d like her to (and I have confidence she will) make it her own/a little more individual/idiosyncratic. Just the three performances I’ve seen I think she’s growing into it/getting more comfy :3

the "with a kiss- twist!" gets a little laugh, but following it up with "/fuck/" just tickles me every time hehe

love how the point they freeze at in ‘there will be sun’ is right before the sunrise/"oh if i could i'd will these clouds away" stuff - which all happens once phil is freed, and he watches the sunrise with rita :')

I LOVE ned’s chopped and screwed jingle on the third go around. it's like five seconds but it's so good at setting the mood. I am Frankly Appalled that the jingle isn’t on the cast recording, you don’t get the full impact of ‘night will come’ then

did not see ned’s pedo stache on my first two viewings, it grrrrosses me out and is not even ghd-movie-canonical, why this

the drunk driving joke always gets a big laugh which makes me a bit uncomfy

‘nobody cares’ is so FUCKING good. I esp like "shoot some cans, crack some cans, shoot the breeze". I wish they’d perform it at the tonys but alas….

… okay an Aside for tonys performance thoughts: I’d love them to perform ‘nobody cares’ but it would kind of waste andy and I feel like they’d want him prominent. Plus the big car is run on the turntables, which they wouldn’t have on that stage, but maybe they could just block it differently. ‘hope’ would obviously be fucking incredible but I think it’s too Dark and staging-complicated for the tonys. I have a feeling we’re gonna get ‘if I had my time again’ which is fffffine but a little generic for my taste. Obviously the solution is ‘seeing you’, pls. okay moving on (ETA: they are apparently doing a medley that includes one of the Days. I am Nervous about this choice)

still don’t know how they do the bag blowing across the stage so well in ‘philanderer’! I don’t see a string or anything and it blows so realistically

also, important note: when he goes behind the door with nancy and is making ~sex noises~, he is actually in real time also thrusting/writhing up on her, I saw it with my eyes lordy lou

"me, in all my finery! and you, in your - practical attire!" makes me laugh EVERY time I just love how andy delivers it

the shining armor masturbation joke never lands and I think barrett have given up on trying to telegraph it super clearly haha

"same! that is my favorite drink!" handonchest.jpeg

rita's constant response to phil’s sleaziness is "grow up" -- which, I understand that is what they're trying to push thematically for phil? but like grown ass men aren't doing gross ass shit every day???

“for me modesty is second only to humility" is the laugh line for me but "my humility is legend" always gets it

in ‘one day’ when rita sings “metrosexual”, phil points to himself like “me? why you gotta call me out wtf”

in the snowball fight scene, once when rita’s turned away, phil turns to the kids and mouths “FUCK OFF” with hand gestures, I screamed

love how phil’s “fictional man” hits at the same time as rita’s “actual man”, and they’re both right, and they’re both wrong

ACT II

okay ‘playing nancy’. I see what they were going for with this song, but I think we can all agree that “it’s better to be leered at than not desired at all” is A Bad Take, Greg. whatever, none of the reviewers like this song either, it gives people time to get back to their seats ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ not only is the content strange, but it’s kind of boring musically/melodically too. also I think it’s fucky that they have nancy be a sympathetic character for “taking what men give her”, but shit on rita’s ‘one day’ farm girl for doing the same thing? idk, I haven’t really unpacked all my thoughts about it but it’s not keeping me up at night. they tried, they largely got there, whatevs

the shooting scene before ‘hope’ was so shocking to me when I first saw it, but ‘hope’ itself was just thrilling and exciting. music fixes everything I guess

I love ‘everything about you’, it really struck me in the sternum the first time I saw the show. I’m a BIG sucker for very simplistic imagery communicating larger ideas of love or death or whatever (see also: underwater from caroline or change, origin of love from hedwig and the angry inch)

also “you thought jesus was going to appear from the dark” in your bedroom is totally ripped from the headlines of tim minchin’s life (right? I remember a very similar anecdote from an interview of his) ETA: YES

‘if i had my time again’ is fun and fine!! for me there’s not enough blocking/telegraphing of phil ~truly falling for~ rita. you get some of it in the tilt-a-whirls but it’s pretty hard to follow visually. this song is like a slightly less effective ‘when you’re home’? “feels like you’re showing me around your hometown”, yanno.

“and I would be a lot more zen” immediately followed by “and I would punch a lot of men” same girl

also phil holds the hot dog for SO LONG in this song, I didn’t realize. like for more than half of the song he’s holding this hot dog rita handed to him near the beginning ahahaha

andy karl gets the tony award for best coat-ography, whipping that shit around his shoulders twenty times a show

ned ryerson’s ballad about death is one of my favorite songs, which is a sentence tim minchin made me type with my own two goddamn hands. and john sanders sings it sooooo well I love it. (I like him singing it live better than some of the vocal choices he made on the cast recording)

if I think too hard about what phil is actually doing?? or trying to accomplish?? during that moment it fucks me up so hard. sisyphian 4 real

also the staging at the end of the number, phil (who is dark) following in step behind ned (who is lit) fuck meeee

‘philanthropy’ is the most joyous I have ever been in a theater fight me

also vishal did the whole number and then came back on and was supes sweaty in a tuxedo plus coat, poor thing

and then when all the sound is sucked out of the room and seeing you kicks in I’m d o n e :’’’’’’’’))))))))))

when the final scene comes around and it was clear he had been freed, a lady behind me scoffed and said too loud, “he’s broken out of it now. watch.” and I was like DEBORAH WE’RE ALL AWARE OF THE MOVIE your insight is not necessary pipe down pls

matthew warchus has a talent for ending shows with lovely simple artistic vignettes (ms honey and matilda cartwheeling towards a tiny house, phil and rita with their arms around each other bathed in sunrise) :’)

OPENING NIGHT

maybe it was just me because i had too much coffee beforehand? but I think during the first half I/the audience, plus andy himself, were a little tense/stiff/high strung? not quite ~in the groove~. it is a very anxiety-inducing first half to be fair. (plus it was literally opening night, so.) some of the audience was v aware he was injured: at one point putting on his shoes he almost slipped off the bed platform and a bunch of people gasped/winced. I swear I saw him at one point (when he was stage left, not in the spotlight yet) wave off “no im fine” to someone in the wings. I took deep breaths during intermission to zen out tho, and once he nailed ‘hope’ I was like pshaw we good

he was not quiiiite limping but almost. was stiff. at "with what a dixie cup" I saw him like ~hobbling off the stage :( and he was pulling his punches somewhat with the physical comedy, but I only knew that because I saw him do it at full strength at the preview. I don't think it was obvious to first timers. he didn't go Full Loony Slapstick Panic Attack, it was more like real ass nervous and Stressed, which just made ME stressed because I didn't know if he was struggling injury wise or not

he really gave his all in the slick dancing of ‘philandering’ tho. and everyone was cheering him on, it was great

“one lonely people? c’mon...” *extends his leg with knee brace up onto a diner stool, gestures to it, massages his thigh, literally two distinct applause breaks* “aren't you even curious?”

he kept bending down as the snowball fight scene warrants and I was like BUDDY PLS

in ‘hope’ “there will be mornings you’ll be utterly defeated by your laces” got LAUGHS, I was upset. but people gave crazy cheers each time he woke up again. he just crushed it like fuckin YEAH

when the bell chimes started in for philanthropy my heart rate skyrocketed. instead of doing a silly gangly full on sprint like he did uninjured, he did like, tiny running? in the style of a powerwalker? it was still very comedic and good

‘seeing you’: he broke down/cracked a bit on “I know nothing” and paused, looked upstage, looked at barrett, looked out at the audience, and continued. READER I CRIED

#groundhog day #groundhog day musical #They Did That #ghd in punx pa #come chat at me about stuff!! #ask me questions! #(((do not yell at me about stuff you disagree with I Do Not Care)))

[coralmccallum]

Sometimes the planets align and you are lucky enough to experience something magical – a once in a lifetime opportunity.

I experienced one such moment earlier this week thanks entirely to a special friend. (You know who you are)

Christmas came early and I was fortunate enough to find myself seated next to my friend in the SSE Hydro preparing to watch the Tim Burton’s The Nightmare Before Christmas 25th Anniversary concert. Not only that but Danny Elfman, the composer, was about to reprise his role as the singing voice of Jack Skellington alongside other original cast members.

Now, I appreciate that not all of you may be Tim Burton or Danny Elfman fans….oh…you don’t know what you’re missing!

Ok, I’ll calm the enthusiasm for a second.

For those of you who haven’t seen it, The Nightmare Before Christmas is an animated dark musical fantasy film conceived and produced by Tim Burton. The film is based on a poem written by Tim Burton when he worked as an animator for Disney

  It was late one fall in Halloweenland, And the air had quite a chill. Against the moon a skeleton sat, Alone upon a hill.

He was tall and thin with a bat bow tie; Jack Skellington was his name. He was tired and bored in Halloweenland – Everything was always the same.

“I’m sick of the scaring, the terror, the fright. I’m tired of being something that goes bump in the night. I’m bored with leering my horrible glances, And my feet hurt from dancing those skeleton dances. I don’t like graveyards, and I need something new. There must be more to life than just yelling, ‘Boo!'”

Then out from a grave, with a curl and a twist, Came a whimpering, whining, spectral mist.

It was a little ghost dog, with a faint little bark, And a jack-o’-lantern nose that glowed in the dark.

It was Jack’s dog, Zero, the best friend he had, But Jack hardly noticed, which made Zero sad.

All that night and through the next day, Jack wandered and walked. He was filled with dismay.

Then deep in the forest, just before night, Jack came upon an amazing sight.

Not twenty feet from the spot where he stood Were three massive doorways carved in wood.

He stood before them, completely in awe, His gaze transfixed by one special door.

Entranced and excited, with a slight sense of worry,

Jack opened the door to a white, windy flurry.

Jack didn’t know it, but he’d fallen down In the middle of a place called Christmas Town!

Immersed in the light, Jack was no longer haunted. He had finally found the feeling he wanted. And so that his friends wouldn’t think him a liar, He took the present filled stockings that hung by the fire. He took candy and toys that were stacked on the shelves, And a picture of Santa with all of his elves. He took lights and ornaments and the star from the tree, And from the Christmas Town sign, he took the big letter C.

He picked up everything that sparkled or glowed. He even picked up a handful of snow. He grabbed it all and without being seen, He took it all back to Halloween.

Back in Halloween, a group of Jack’s peers Stared in amazement at his Christmas souvenirs. For this wondrous vision none were prepared. Most were excited, though a few were quite scared!

For the next few days, while it lightninged and thundered, Jack sat alone and obsessively wondered. “Why is it they get to spread laughter and cheer While we stalk the graveyards, spreading panic and fear? Well, I could be Santa, and I could spread cheer! Why does he get to do it year after year?” Outraged by injustice, Jack thought and he thought. Then he got an idea. “Yes…yes…why not!”

In Christmas Town, Santa was making some toys When through the din he heard a soft noise. He answered the door, and to his surprise, He saw weird little creatures in strange disguise. They were altogether ugly and rather petite. As they opened their sacks, they yelled, “Trick or treat!” Then a confused Santa was shoved into a sack And taken to Halloween to see mastermind Jack.

In Halloween everyone gathered once more, For they’d never seen a Santa before And as they cautiously gazed at this strange old man, Jack related to Santa his masterful plan:

“My dear Mr. Claus, I think it’s a crime That you’ve got to be Santa all of the time! But now I will give presents, and I will spread cheer. We’re changing places I’m Santa this year. It is I who will say Merry Christmas to you! So you may lie in my coffin, creak doors, and yell, ‘Boo!’ And please, Mr. Claus, don’t think ill of my plan. For I’ll do the best Santa job that I can.”

And though Jack and his friends thought they’d do a good job, Their idea of Christmas was still quite macabre.

They were packed up and ready on Christmas Eve day When Jack hitched his reindeer to his sleek coffin sleigh. But on Christmas Eve, as they were about to begin, A Halloween fog slowly rolled in.

Jack said, “We can’t leave; this fog’s just too thick. There will be no Christmas, and I can’t be St. Nick.” Then a small glowing light pierced through the fog, What could it be?…It was Zero, Jack’s dog!

Jack said, “Zero, with your nose so bright, Won’t you guide my sleigh tonight?”

And to be so needed was Zero’s great dream, So he joyously flew to the head of the team.

And as the skeletal sleigh started its ghostly flight, Jack cackled, “Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night!”

‘Twas the nightmare before Christmas, and all though the house, Not a creature was peaceful, not even a mouse. The stockings all hung by the chimney with care, When opened that morning would cause quite a scare! The children, all nestled so snug in their beds, Would have nightmares of monsters and skeleton heads. The moon that hung over the new-fallen snow Cast an eerie pall over the city below, And Santa Claus’s laughter now sounded like groans, And the jingling bells like chattering bones. And what to their wondering eyes should appear, But a coffin sleigh with skeleton deer. And a skeletal driver so ugly and sick, They knew in a moment, this can’t be St. Nick!

From house to house, with a true sense of joy, Jack happily issued each present and toy. From rooftop to rooftop he jumped and he skipped, Leaving presents that seemed to be straight from a crypt! Unaware that the world was in panic and fear, Jack merrily spread his own brand of cheer.

He visited the house of Susie and Dave; They got a Gumby and Pokey From the grave. Then on to the home of Little Jane Neeman; She got a baby doll Possessed by a demon.

A monstrous train with tentacle tracks, A ghoulish puppet wielding an ax, A man-eating plant Disguised as a wreath, And a vampire teddy bear With very sharp teeth.

There were screams of terror, but Jack didn’t hear it, He was much too involved with his own Christmas spirit! Jack finally looked down from his dark, starry frights And saw the commotion, the noise, and the light. “Why, they’re celebrating, it looks like such fun! They’re thanking me for the good job that I’ve done.” But what he thought were fireworks meant as goodwill, Were bullets and missiles intended to kill. Then amidst the barrage of artillery fire, Jack urged Zero to go higher and higher. And away they all flew like the storm of a thistle, Until they were hit by a well guided missile. And as they fell on the cemetery, way out of sight, Was heard, “Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night.”

Jack pulled himself up on a large stone cross, And from there he reviewed his incredible loss. “I thought I could be Santa, I had such belief…” Jack was confused and filled with great grief. Not knowing where to turn, he looked toward the sky, Then he slumped on the grave and he started to cry. And as Zero and Jack lay crumpled on the ground, They suddenly heard a familiar sound….

“My dear Jack,” said Santa, “I applaud your intent. I know wreaking such havoc was not what you meant. And so you are sad, and feeling quite blue, But taking over Christmas was the wrong thing to do. I hope you realize Halloween’s the right place for you. There’s a lot more, Jack, that I’d like to say, But now I must hurry, for it’s almost Christmas Day.” Then he jumped in his sleigh, and with a wink of an eye, He said, “Merry Christmas!”, and he bid them good-bye.

Back home, Jack was sad, but then, like a dream, Santa brought Christmas to the land of Halloween.

The END

  (credits to the owner Tim Burton – copy sourced via Google)

  I love Tim Burton films!

I love Danny Elfman music!

  This was sure to be a night to remember – and it was!

  Both my friend and I were a little unsure of what to expect…..

Below us the stage was prepared for the arrival of the Royal Scottish National Orchestra. There were three video screens above the vast stage.

It struck me that I was more accustomed to standing on the rail in front of the stage….not tonight though. This was an entirely seated event. Very civilised.

The show opened with the RSNO playing The Nightmare Before Christmas overture while the screen showed a selection of Tim Burton’s original drawings.

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To cut a long story short, we then watched the film but, when it reached a musical number, this was performed live on stage. Aside from the incredibly talented and animated Danny Elfman, we were entertained by Catherine O’Hara as Sally and Ken Page as Oogie Boogie plus five other vocalists who included comedian Greg Proops (remember him from Whose Line Is it Anyway?)

Like all theatrical performances, there was a short interval at an appropriate moment in the film.

Following the intermission, acclaimed violinist Sandy Cameron was invited on stage to perform the Elfman Violin Concerto. WOW! That’s all I can say…WOW!

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=35jRufnM-Kg

(credits to the owner via YouTube)

When the film ended to rapturous applause, the various performers took their bows then Danny Elfman returned to the stage to treat us to one final number. He performed Oogie Boogie’s song as he’d originally envisaged it in a Cab Calloway style. This performance above all others showcases just what an outstandingly talented entertainer he truly is. Loved it!

  Sadly, all good things have to come to an end….

  How many sleeps till Sandy Claws comes?

  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ry7PcYtKPhA

(credits to the owner via You Tube)

  (images sourced via Google – credits to the owners)

  When The Planets Align…..The Nightmare Before Christmas Sometimes the planets align and you are lucky enough to experience something magical – a once in a lifetime opportunity.

#blogging #dannyelfman #film #RSNO #sseHydro #thenightmarebeforechristmas #timburton #concert

[nightblogofficialbook]

Chapter Fourteen

Also available to read at Tapas.io!

I sat where I was on the couch, still mulling over things. It felt like a week had passed me by in just 24 hours. Despite having a full night's rest I felt exhausted. And furious. Why did he do that? Why did he decide today, of all days, would be a time to test that? I was still unnerved at the fact that he actually made me feel comfortable, relaxed. I didn’t like it. It was terrifying.

A few more minutes passed before Dmitri arrived with a soft knock. He gave me time to get changed and fixed up, and then he led me down a spiral staircase and out of the tower. He assured me that everyone on the riding trail made it back safe and sound, and have been given enough information to placate them. This made it easier for me to come up with what to actually say, in case I say too much.

After what felt like a long walk we finally reached the open glass hallway to the Day Wing, and I relaxed just a little more, thankful for the familiarity. Dmitri said he’d let me go from there but assured me that he’d still be close by.

Everyone was practically in hysterics when I showed up, Claire even in tears since she saw me last. I felt horrible. Not only was I not able to tell anyone when I left, but now I had to leave them in the dark again, after they all had woken up and found me missing. They thought I had been kidnapped, which...they weren’t exactly wrong about.

To my surprise though, they took my excuses readily, understanding immediately, soon as I mentioned Zain. I’m starting to realize what kind of power he actually has...and just how much power his name alone carries. I wonder what else I’d could get away with.

After packing my things and handing them to Dmitri I decided to walk around with the girls, seeing as I don’t know how much more time I’d be able to spend with them now. Everything seemed...normal, despite the buzz of rumors about what happened yesterday. News of Zain’s injuries had spread with worry and yet hardly anyone seemed actually concerned. Less concerned than the day I had shown up even. It made me recall the story he had told me last night, and his disdain. Everyone knew...but nobody seemed to care. Like it was just an every other day occurrence.

The only thing that seemed to really change was me.

Despite staying in his room from then on, I didn’t see Zain for nearly the entire week. Dmitri and Mason would trade off escorting me to and from his room since Dmitri would still have classes. I began to wonder when Zain sleeps, and if he ever normally sleeps. Maybe he sleeps during the day; most of his duties seemed to be at night. I asked Mason one time where he was.

“The idiot is still running around on fumes,” he said, shaking his head. “Still trying to gather evidence of a conspiracy to give to the council; dumbass hasn’t even slept yet.”

Well that answered one question. Regardless, I slept on the couch instead of the bed, which was significantly less comfy but felt way less weird.

Aside from the rumors of his attack, the Winter Solstice was still the main topic on everyone’s mind. It was the one night that every human was invited over to the Night Wing to comingle and celebrate with the entire vampire population. There was talk of extravagances and earning favors, the pinings among my peers for the chance to meet young suitors at the dance. Even if I weren’t already required to go, I’d have no interest in any of this whole affair. I’d be doing my best to ensure I COULDN’T go. But the ball was only two weeks away now, and a horrible thought just occurred to me.

I’m going to have to dance with Zain.

And I still can’t dance worth crap.

“Hey, Dmitri?” I asked once everyone had left the classroom. “Can I...ask you something?”

A slight look of worry tinged his eyes but he obliged. “Of course. What can I do for you?”

“You remember when you offered to...when you said if I ever changed my mind about dancing, you’d be up for the challenge?”

His eyes immediately lit up. “Yes, of course. My offers still stands, naturally.

I nodded, feeling determined now. “Do you...do you think you can help me in time for the Solstice Ball?”

It was very dark by the time I got back to the Night Wing. Dmitri was ecstatic, and wanted to start working with me immediately. I’ve all but filled up my free time now with extra lesson with him, trying to learn the specific dance style that was traditionally performed. Unsurprisingly my klutziness resulted in some really horrendous accidents that, had it been another human being, would have definitely caused injury. But Dmitri was unfazed by it all, and remained determined  to make a dancer out of me.

I groaned as I opened the door, feeling rather sore yet somewhat exhilarated, and felt the pulling sensation increase. With a start I looked up; Zain was back.

He was sitting on his bed, leaning forward and resting his chin on his hands, his face furrowed. He made no noise or motion that indicated he was aware of my presence. I shuffled in awkwardly.

“Hey,” I called with uncertainty. “Um, hi, I’m here.”

“I know.” He still didn’t move, his eyes staring out into nothing, like he was looking outward for something.

“Um…” I tentatively pulled up a chair and sat down. “Has...has something happened?”

The concern in my voice seemed to snap him out of it. He looked up, his eyes focused on me, and then back forward. He looked so tired. But he was present now.

“No, nothing yet. Nothing definitive. I managed to find traces of the group that attacked me, they were definitely organized. But there’s nothing that draws them back to the castle. Whoever it is, they’re keeping very good tabs on their tracks and alibis.”

“What about Greg?”

“I’ve looked into him too. And into every piece of paper that entered existence in this castle and where it goes. He’s never exhibited any behavior out of the ordinary, except when he intercepted us last week. And no one knows how that letter ended up in your possession.”

I shivered. “Do ghosts exist too, by chance?”

He gave me an impatient stare. “Really, Helen?”

“Come on, I’m half-kidding. I don’t know what’s real or fantasy anymore. I still wonder if I’m not just having the world’s longest nightmare.”

“Tell me about it…” Zain grumbled.

Silence fell between us as soft moonlight began to fill the windows.

“What about anyone on the council?” I asked after a moment. “At this point we should be treating everyone as a suspect, right?”

He gave me another look of frustrated impatience that quickly turned thoughtful. “That’s true. It could even be the entire council, and that’s why they’re so against it.” He groaned and fell back into the bed. “But they of all people would understand what would happen if I died. Their interests is in the peace of our preservation, not destructive chaos. Someone could be pretending, but…”

He suddenly sat up, his eyes wide. “That’s right. Someone could be pretending--lying. But they wouldn’t know…” He stood up, coming over to me. “Helen, have you noticed anything strange about your friends?”

I bristled. “I’m sorry what?” I felt extremely confident that none of them are trying to kill us.

He shook his head and gripped my shoulders, looking hopeful. “I don’t mean like that, I just mean have any of them been acting weird, or stranger than usual?”

I thought about it, about the week so far. Nothing had been strange, Rose seemed a little more worried but remained a powerhouse to the dorm, Alice and Suzanne hadn’t changed routines at all, Claire got her form from Greg for the spring trip and some new snacks, Wendy-

My insides grew cold with guilt as I realized. “Wendy wasn’t at the dorms at all.”

He stiffened. “That’s not good.”

I stared into his eyes with worry. “You don’t think…?”

He didn’t answer. He seemed to be thinking things over, then…

“I need to check something. This might be...this might be the lead I needed.” He looked into my eyes again, patiently pleading. “And, Helen...I really need you to cooperate with me today.”

I stiffened, immediately remembering what he did last time.

“I promised I wouldn’t do that to you again. I keep my promises.”

I swallowed tentatively and took a breath. “Okay, fine,” I said, awkwardly moving my hair out of the way of my neck. “It’s better not to take chances I guess.”

He seemed to chuckle and smirk a little, and took my arm instead. “Just a snack this time, Helen. No need to be so dramatic.”

I flushed and glared at him. “Excuse you, who was it that’s always objected to anything but my neck?!” But he had already bit into my arm.

The brief pain caused me to wince but it soon faded quickly as the vague yet familiar numbness took it place as he drew my blood. A slightly morbid curiosity filled me as instead of shutting my eyes I glanced sideways at him.

Zain was holding my arm gently to his mouth, his lips soft against my skin as if he were simply kissing it. His eyes were closed and relaxed, though his features seemed ragged with exhaustion. The skin around where he bit was unmarked except for a little drainage of color. As he drank slowly and carefully, I realized just how used to this I had gotten. The sight, the idea of it, no longer sickened me.

He lifted his mouth with a light gasp, and then let me go after a quick swipe of his tongue over the wound before the blood could bead. I snatched my arm back soon as he did, startled and a little weirded out. And then saw the two red punctures reduce it’s swelling and heal over, leaving behind the smallest hint of a bruise. My eyes widened.

“Vampire venom,” Zain explained to my alarmed gaze as he wiped his mouth. “You’ve heard about it, we make a diluted paste out of it for humans. In pure concentration it can be toxic. You’re immune to mine though.”

“How do people not die when they’re not a Bride?” I asked in disbelief, still staring at my arm and trying not to think about the fact that he just licked me.

“It depends on how much blood is taken, and how healthy the victim is.” I smirked a little when he said ‘victim,’ and he rolled his eyes at me. “I’m not the only one who has a hard time following the rules; some humans and vampires do contact feeding; it’s part of the reason why we make sure everyone stays healthy.”

“So no one accidently dies,” I nodded. “So...if another vampire bit me, then…?”

“As long as I keep feeding from you regularly, nothing should happen. My venom in your system acts like an antibody as well as a healing mechanism; it uses your energy to accelerate any injury recovery, and it attacks any foreign intrusion if anyone else tries to bite or turn you, kind of like guarding a territory. If you were to be attacked, and someone else bit you or tried to turn you, you'd be in mortal danger unless I get to you in time. My regular feedings from you isn’t just for my benefit alone; it's keeping you protected as well.”

“Thats...disturbing. Yet somewhat reassuring.” It was weird to know that essentially Zain’s spit coursed through my veins, but at least that meant I'd be relatively safe from other vampires’ bites. Zain was staring at me now, though.

“What?” I asked, then realized. “Did...did I just say that outloud?”

“You did,” he answered, still staring at me curiously. “Not that it would have matter whether you vocalized it or not.”

I looked away and crossed my arms, my face tinged pink I’m sure. It was really unfair how often he heard my thoughts. “Stay out of my head.”

“As I’ve said before, I would if I could, love.”

Now it was my turn to stare at him.

“Oops, did I say that outloud?” he said with an air of false pretense, the corners of his mouth curling ever so slightly, and teasing mischief in his eyes. I glared at him, glad the anger hid the embarrassing thoughts my mind had jumped to. That’s not funny. He seemed to think it was.

He cleared his throat and began heading towards the door, the humor falling back to a mode of seriousness. “I’m going to go check some things now, and see if I can find your friend.” My anger subsided immediately and gave way to worry. “I don’t know how long it will take, but please, PLEASE, don’t leave the room unless Dmitri, Mason, or myself comes for you. They’ll be close by just in case, but if we’re being watched they’re going to know I’ll be on the other side of the castle, and away from you.”

I nodded, feeling my insides curl with a growing sense of unease. I really want to go to the pool; I’m probably not going to be able to sleep tonight.

He cast me a sympathetic stare before opened the door. “Stay safe, Helen,” he said, and then he was gone.

I sat in the quiet, trying not to think once more. I really didn’t like this room. It was too big. Too empty. There was too much space for my thoughts to escape into. Wendy...how could I have not noticed her? That she was missing? Why hadn’t anyone mentioned it? Or noticed it? I know it was common for her to miss classes but…

Wait. What if she was just in her room the whole time? Maybe she was sick…

But her urgent warning that day was too coincidental. Something strange, stranger than normal, was happening.

I shook my head and propped it against my hands on the table. I was so tired. I wanted to lie down. But there was too much happening in my brain. He licked my arm. I shuddered, feeling weird, casting my eyes to the almost-gone bruise. That healed way faster than the ointment Alice had used on me my first night here. And the bruise on my neck after his first actual feeding...that had still been really dark, though it hadn’t left any swelling. And the fast healing bruise from when I force fed him, it had gone from purple to yellow very quickly; it was gone within that evening. My body, I realized, has steadily grown more efficient at healing those things. My hand traced the welted scar around my collarbone idly, recalling what he just told me earlier. About his venom in my veins, its healing properties. The changes my body was going through, would continue to go through. That venom...must be responsible for preserving the life of Brides, I concluded. If Zain stopped feeding from me, I wonder, would I start to age, same as he would?

But then, Brides were supposed to be changed from the moment of the first bite, regardless of the lifespan of the vampire. Or...was that also a lie too?

My head slowly fogged over, my eyelids drooping. I really wanted to lie down, but I was too worried. Loneliness was all that filled the space here. I found myself wishing he would come back soon, as my head slowly lowered to the table.

Everything felt bright and airy, and I knew immediately I was in a dream. I was floating through the snow, but it wasn’t cold. The trees were quiet, and soothing. It was a blissful moment, but I should probably be getting home.

Very slowly eyes began to form on the tree trunks, following me, growing more frequent. It unnerved me, and I started running. Now I was in the castle walls, passing portraits and shadows. The eyes continued to follow me.

I was in a courtyard, but not one I’d seen before. There were large stone arches and a fountain. Someone was standing on the other side, a dark figure. They felt dangerous. The eyes were starting to close in, like they were excited, like something they had been wanting was about to happen.

“Helen?”

I looked up, startled. Zain was standing next to me, looking bemused.

“What are you still doing there?” he asked, and the eyes disappeared. Elation filled me; I was so relieved. Zain’s here now, everything will be okay.

The world around us blurred and we were back in his room again. I mumbled something about “You scared the eyes away.” He looked at me quizzically for a moment, and then seemed to understand.

“Let’s get you to bed,” he said gently, and lifted me from my chair. His arms were so warm and his scent so pleasant...I buried my head in his chest, sighing and wishing this wasn’t a dream. A soft chuckle resonated within it.

He set me down on the bed and began to walk away, but I reached out and grabbed the sleeve of his sweater desperately, causing his red worried eyes to turn back in surprise. Don’t go...please don’t go, they’ll come back, I don’t want them to come back…”

“Who will come back?” he questioned, his voice sounding worried.

“The lonely,” I murmured, my droopy eyes starting to well with tears. “Don’t leave me, please…”

Something seemed to click in his expression, and he sat down on the bed next to me. His eyes switched from red to green like a stoplight. “What do you need me to do?”

“Just stay…” I still had a hold of his sleeve. “Don’t leave...just stay with me…”

“I won’t leave,” his gentle voice murmured, and I felt my heart lift. I closed my eyes, the tears that had built up pushed themselves out and down my cheeks. He was staying, it was okay. Everything was going to be okay.

There was a soft humming and I felt my hair being stroked gently. It was comforting, and his voice soothing. I could feel myself falling deeper into sleep, wishing once again this wasn’t just a dream.

When I woke up my face flushed immediately. The dream played and replayed in my head a few more times, each time more embarrassing than the last. I sat up, my feelings squirming in a weird manner inside me. That was definitely a dream...right? He didn’t...he wouldn’t have acted like...and didn’t really...I didn’t...right?

The door clicked opened and I threw the metal barriers up immediately, squeaking in fright. The smell of fresh warm eggs and bacon wafted in, and Zain walked in carrying a plate of breakfast. He spotted me.

“Oh good, you’re already awake. I brought up some breakfast.”

I stared at him incredulously, wondering if I wasn’t still asleep.

“There’s some things I need to talk to you about,” he said, making his way to the couches and table. “Something that...isn’t going to be easy for you to hear.”

I swallowed, and my stomach growled. Unable to resist the smell of offered food I obliged and got out of bed. I watched his face with growing anxiety. Did he...hear my dream at all? Would dreams carry through thoughts? I didn’t want to be teased for this. It was bad enough that...but his face remained stoic, his eyes not meeting mine. He waiting for me to start eating first, staring down at his hands in contemplation.

“I couldn’t find Wendy,” he said, and I dropped my fork.

“You couldn’t…?” I picked up the fork again, the dream falling completely from my  mind. “Then...is she…?”

“She’s vanished, I couldn’t find a trace of her anywhere. Her scent led up to her room and never left. I don’t think she’s dead.”

The food grew bland in my mouth. I didn’t want to eat anymore. “Then...then she’s been taken.”

“That is my best guess, though by who I can’t be sure. Your friends’ memories, however...have been altered.”

I froze. “What? What do you--?”

“They’re okay! They haven’t been hurt, but...someone’s tampered with their memories of Wendy. They seemed to be under the impression that she’s simply an acquaintance; they have no recollection of Wendy ever having stayed in the dorms.”

“But--her room--?”

“The plaque had been removed.”

My head spun as I tried to keep my breathing steady. Wendy’s been taken...someone must have found out she tried to tell me and took her. They’re trying to erase her existence to cover it up. “Who has the ability to do that?”

“Too many people unfortunately,” Zain grimaced. “But now we have something that I can force a proper investigation on. Even if it’s unrelated, she might have been kidnapped to make a Bride, which is against the rules without the proper procedures. They can’t ignore this.” He looked triumphant, and hopeful, but still with a twinge of worry in his eyes. And then his expression fell just a little. “But this would rule out Greg; his ability has to do with intelligence gathering. He can observe high amounts of information through strands of thought,” he added to my puzzled look. “He’s kind of like an antenna…” Zain trailed off as a thought dawned on me.

“That’s how he could be keeping track of us,” I said out loud. “He wouldn’t need to follow us around.”

“He can just tune in to the right frequencies,” Zain said, his hand going to his mouth in realization.  “But then...that would definitely mean there are more accomplices, if that’s the case. Someone who can tamper with memories, and someone who can collect information.”

We sat there for a moment, and I dropped my head into my hands in exasperation. Zain cast me a look of sympathy.

“Why does everything keep getting complicated…” I grumbled. “Is there a way to get their memories back?”

“It depends,” he answered hesitantly, “on how they were taken in the first place. Vampires powers are fairly unique, but they’re usually a variation of four category types: Mental, Physical, Elemental, and Ethereal. Mine would be considered elemental, Dmitri’s telekinesis is physical, Greg’s would be mental. Memory tampering would also be mental, but there’s different variations of how that works. It could be that they’re memories were reordered, locked, or, as an ethereal version, actually stolen away. It doesn’t seem like it’s a case of that, ethereal abilities are actually pretty rare. If they’re scrambled, we can find a person who can put them back but…”

“...but there’s a chance that person would be the one who scrambled them in the first place,” I finished for him. He nodded.

“Things might get...more dangerous today,” he began to say. “I don’t think whoever it was expected me to let you back to the Day Wing so quickly; they might not have snuck your friend away so soon if they knew. But they’re going to know by now that I’ve searched for her, and once it gets to the council today they might think they’ve been compromised. I want you to stay here, okay? Just for today at least. They might get desperate, they might act while I’m away from you this time.”

I didn’t like the idea of being stuck in the room all day, but I also didn’t like the idea of feeling paranoid walking through the halls. “What about you? Wouldn’t it be better if I stayed with you?”

He blinked at me for a second, and then the slyest smirk I’ve seen from him yet pulled up the corners of his mouth. “What’s this, Helen?” he accused teasingly. “Worried for me?”

For second it felt like he knew. He knew about the dream, he heard it. But I wasn’t going to admit it. I flushed and looked away angrily. “Of course I’m worried, jerkface. It’s not like I want you to die.”

A small triumphant glee rose in me as I saw his expression fall just a little, once he realized his teasing didn’t work the way he intended. He sighed sheepishly.

“I’ll be in the council room the whole time, so unless it’s the council themselves, whoever it is will have a hard time fighting against fourteen powerful vampires. I appreciate the concern though,” he added with another smirk.

He waited until I finished the rest of my breakfast (what I could stomach at this point at least) before leaving, promising to be back by lunch. I sat where he left me, staying in my pajamas, uncertain. The pulling sensation grew taut but not unbearably so, almost seeming to react to my anxiety this time. I was afraid, afraid for my friends, afraid for Zain, afraid for myself. There was nothing I could do about it right now, nothing I could do at all. I could only hope that things work out, that the COV listens to him, that they find Wendy safe and sound.

Wendy...I looked over at his bookshelf. Peter and Wendy, the story of Peter Pan. A boy who never wanted to grow up, whisks away a young girl and her siblings, and proceeds to have many adventures. Our Wendy’s been whisked away too, only she was all alone, kidnapped by an unidentified Captain Hook.

I shook my head and tried to busy myself. I tried to practice the dance steps Dmitri had been teaching me, pretending to be waltzing with an invisible partner. When I felt too silly I decided to poke around, investigating Zain’s office-sized walk-in closet. Despite the size it looked like many articles of clothing remained untouched, some even looking to be too big for him. When that didn’t work I sat back down next to his bookshelves and tried reading some of the books he had.

Time continued to drag on, I was pretty sure it was noon now. I was starting to get hungry again. I briefly considered sneaking down to get food. It was a stupid idea, of course. But I decided to get up anyway and press my ear to the door. No sound was coming from the halls, not that I was surprised, this was probably the only room up here.

I walked over to the balcony window and hesitated. Surely it would be okay, it would be safe, right? It was part of his room after all.

The blast of cold air was a breath of relief. I hadn’t realized how stuffy it felt in the room. The sky was white and cloudy, and there was a fresh layer of snow. I stepped out and leaned against the stone railing, my breath coming out in puffs of steam. I started to relax.

It’ll be okay. Thousands of strange things have happened now, but you haven’t died from them.

Not yet anyway.

Shut up, that doesn’t mean things won’t work out. I mean, it’s been four months now, right? That’s plenty of time for things to turn catastrophic.

But something was coming. Something in me felt it, like the foreshadowing of a story. It was like a big storm was coming, and I was staring into the thunderclouds rolling towards me.

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