When he would bunk beds with Grayson and sleep on the top one, he would wait till Grayson was under covers to throw the plushie at him

"that hurt, Jamie."

"I know. I had to make sure it still worked"

After that Jamie realized protection wasn't needed only in danger so he would throw the spiderman at Grayson any time he saw him.

Eating cereal ? THWACK

Piano practice ? THWACK

Reading ? THWACK

Sleeping ? THWACK

"STOP HITTING ME."

"IM NOT. ITS HIS SPIDEY SENSES"

"HE DOESN'T HAVE SENSES"

THWACK

It lasted a good while until Xander turned 5 and Gray got him an octopus plushie. Jamie realized soon the consequences of his actions & Gray made sure to take tons of photos as proof

it must have been equally terrifying for her as it was for the real nikki to have someone else fight for control over what she perceived as her body. the scene where she's sobbing in the corner, terrified of her dreams is now more sad than terrifying to me. real nikki, who has just been raped by her once best friend hurting so badly that it seeps into entity!nikki's nightmares. entity!nikki who doesn't understand why the thing she wanted so badly is causing her so much pain. why she can't bring herself to lie in bed next to the man who is the center of her world.

and the worst part is bear doesn't even seem to like her. she's trying so so hard; she made a lovely memorial for his dead cat, she waited for him to come home all day without moving an inch, she made sure to be the most doting girlfriend at the party, and he's not pleased by any of it. he seems disturbed and angry and scared and she has no idea what to do to make it better. to make it worse, he keeps asking her to behave like the original nikki but he was the one who wished for her!! she can't be like nikki because nikki was simply not capable of loving bear even a fraction of how much she does!

she can't seem to reconcile it; he wanted her so badly he conjured her into reality and now he doesn't want her anymore. she doesn't know what to do. she tries everything. she obsesses over him, she threatens to hurt herself, she gets rid of that bitch sarah who keeps distracting him and trying to steal him away, and then dresses in her clothes for good measure and he still doesn't want her.

and then finally in a fit of desperation, she makes the wish and for one beautiful moment its all perfect. he's finally looking at her the way she looks at him. and then he's dead and she's lost everything.

cont.

"Choose your name."

A form stepped out of the shadows, and I suddenly realized that, unlike every other room I'd been in, this one had a visible exit: a narrow path out. Blocking that path was a woman dressed entirely in black. With only the words on the wall for lighting, I couldn't make out much more than the silhouette of her cloak.

"My name?" I repeated.

"Your options are all around you. From this point to the end, you will not be Avery Kylie Grambs. You are a Candidate of the Gilded Blade. You must choose your name."

Everything in me wanted to attack and fight my way past her and out, but the logical part of me said that, in all likelihood, I'd only find myself in another locked room. So I bought myself some time to think about my next move by looking at the names on the walls of the cave.

Once I saw Cassiopeia and Centaurus, I caught on to the theme.

"Constellations."

"And stars. Choose your name."

Something in me rebelled at that, but I kept my fury in check. There is a path forward, I could hear Alice telling me, if you can find it.

Until I could figure out how to change the game, my only choice was to play it. As I scanned the glowing names, my gaze caught on a Latin word. If you hung out with Hawthornes long enough, you picked up a bit of Latin, sooner or later. Veritate, translated, meant "where there is truth." I almost chose that as my name—until I saw the one next to it.

Ara. A palindrome.

My mother's name had been Hannah.

"You've chosen." The woman's voice, low in pitch and rich in tone, reminded me of someone, but I couldn't place who. "Go ahead. Introduce yourself to me."

"Ara." That was all I said.

The woman waited for a moment for me to say something else, then she turned.

"Follow me, Ara."

I followed.

Down the path, the cave narrowed to become more of a tunnel. At the end of it, there was a door. The woman opened it. At first, I saw only light, but as my eyes adjusted and I crossed the threshold, I realized I'd just stepped into what appeared to be some kind of formal dining room.

The door closed behind us, disappearing into the wall.

Locked in.

Again.

In the light, I could make out more than the woman's cloak. The second I saw her face, I knew who her voice had reminded me of.

Lyra.

The woman had the same thick, dark hair, the same luminescent, light brown skin. But it was the eyes—golden amber more than brown—that made the resemblance impossible to miss.

"Sit," the woman ordered.

"Who are you?" I asked, my voice coming out low and intense.

"I am the Omega. I am the Hand. When I walked in your place, during my own Crucible, I was Carina. That is all you need to know."

She nodded to one of the dining chairs, which, like the table, looked like they belonged in the Palace of Versailles.

I sat, and so did she.

The table between us was bare—no tablecloth, no plates, no silverware—until she reached for the chair beside her and produced a large, leather-bound book. She set it on the table between us and pushed it toward me. Next came a small pearlescent bowl filled with dark purple ink.

The quill came last. It was metal, shaped like a feather, and for a fraction of a second, I considered whether or not I could use it as a blade. I pushed down the idea for the same reason I hadn't physically engaged this woman earlier. I didn't need to escape the Crucible. I needed to come through it.

Compete in the Crucible, Alice Hawthorne had told me, and change the game.

"Sign the ledger," the woman told me. "With your Gilded name."

I opened the book.

The first page, yellowed with age, already had three names on it, spread apart enough that the last had been signed near the bottom. I turned the page. Same thing. I kept turning pages—more and more of them, dozens and dozens—until I came to a page with only one name on it.

"There are always three Candidates," the woman across from me said. "In a more typical year, you might have already met the others. The three of you very likely would have chosen your names before the Culling. Some years, you might have trained together for months before being thrown into the first room. The longer the Crucible, the stronger the bonds, but within certain perimeters, it is the Judge who decides the terms of the trials. This is her show, so to speak. You are the second Candidate to make it this far. It remains to be seen whether the third will—or whether certain remediation will be required."

The word remediation, and the emphasis she put on it, sent a chill down my spine.

Refusing to let that show on my face, I dipped the quill into the ink and added my Gilded name to the one already on the page.

Ara.

"What now?" I demanded.

"Now that you've chosen your gown and your name, it's time to choose your weapon."

pt1 pt2

THE LAST PART !! hope you guys liked having it formatted bc this took forever

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