#2006 second book

[inktober-of-a-fan-girl]

Day 12: Christian Borle

This is from 2009.

More information in Keep Reading.

It started as a book series…

The "Starcatchers" books by Dave Barry and Ridley Pearson...

...are an unauthorized series reboot that was published by Hyperion Books (a subsidiary of Disney) in the US and by Walker Books in the UK.

The first book is Peter and the Starcatchers (2004). Set on a ship called Never Land featuring Peter and an earlier group of Lost Boys. In 2005, the publisher announced plans for Disney to adapt the book as a digitally animated movie. Second and third are Peter and the Shadow Thieves (2006) and Peter and the Secret of Rundoon (2007). The fourth book is Peter and the Sword of Mercy (2009), where twenty-three years since Peter and the Lost Boys returned from Rundoon. The Bridge to Never Land (2011), is an expanded part and fifth book where a pair of siblings, Sarah and Aidan Cooper drawn from the modern world as they follow clues left by an ancient coded document. The "Never Land Books" by Dave Barry, Ridley Pearson, and Greg Call (ill.), is a series of unauthorized spin-off chapter books. Based on the continuity established by the "Starcatchers" novels, for a younger audience. The books are: Escape from the Carnivale (2006), Cave of the Dark Wind (2007) and Blood Tide (2008).

Captain Hook becomes this…

In the novel Peter and the Starcatchers by Dave Barry and Ridley Pearson, Captain Hook is distinguished by halitosis, beady black eyes, a pock-marked face, and perpetual filth of his person and surroundings contrasting strongly with J. M. Barrie's Etonian gentleman. The novel, which takes place before the Captain meets Peter Pan, calls Hook "Black Stache" for his prominent moustache, and his ship is called the Sea Devil; he captures the Jolly Roger, originally a British ship called the Wasp, later. Black Stache is renamed "Captain Hook" in the second instalment, Peter and the Shadow Thieves. In Barry and Pearson's book, his left hand is accidentally cut off by Peter.

But then it got adapted into a musical/play….

The first book, "Peter and the Starcatchers" was adapted into a play similarly titled "Peter and the Starcatcher" winning several Tony awards. It debuted in the winter of 2009 at La Jolla Playhouse as part of an arrangement with Disney Theatrical. It was re-staged Off-Broadway in 2011 and opened on Broadway on April 15, 2012, at the Brooks Atkinson Theatre.

Captain Hook was made into this…

In Rick Ellis' theatrical adaptation of the Barry-Pearson novel, Black Stache (portrayed in the original production by Christian Borle, who won a Tony Award for the role) is a witty, poetical, but psychotic pirate prone to malapropisms and the occasional pratfall. Similar to the Disney film character, Black Stache resembles both a dangerous villain and a comic buffoon. The last of a line of villains, he seeks to become a great villain by fighting a great hero and finds one in Peter. His hand is cut off not by Peter, but accidentally severed when he slams the lid of a trunk in a fit of rage.

I am very disappointed in the creators.

But there is also this one...

Black Stache: A highly intelligent but malapropism-prone pirate chief, so-called due to the black mustache that is a trademark in his family. In search of a great hero who he can oppose to become a great villain, Stache is given to scenery chewing and anachronistic jokes and has a hook in his future. The name ‘Black Stache’ is a reference to the pirate Blackbeard.

Blackbeard will be mentioned in another Inktober.

At least the actor has blue eyes….but there is nothing else in Barrie's character here...just the mustache from which he gets his name.

Anyways, here are the play trailers and at the Tony awards….

"And I bet your milkshake brings all the boys to the yard but I'm not interested!" is the best.

[adaptations-polls]

Which version of this do you prefer?

Putting an extra text note on the poll too just because I'm seeing more of these types of comments on this poll than I have on many previous ones: Please read the pinned post of my blog and look at my original notes on this poll before asking why a certain version was not included. There are going to be more Robin Hood based polls later with another set of adaptations. If there's a particularly notable version- such as Men in Tights- that is not on here it is probably because it is going to be part of the second set. This is true of most polls I do where there are many many adaptations. They will eventually receive another poll and possibly eventually a compilation poll presenting all the most popular options from previous versions together.

[piedude]

"Okay, okay, enough of your bisexual chaos for the moment"

-Nico di Angelo (I'm not kidding, this is an actual quote from The Sun and the Star, someone with a physical copy please take a picture for me)

[it-may-be-dull-but-im-determined]

On the verge of doing a deep dive compare and contrast between both Wicked and Evita being adapted for films because the parallels are RIGHT THERE. In this essay I will

[homiro]

#all weebs should be legally required to read about japanese imperialism both inside and outside the country that is now labeled as “japan”

Couldn't have put it better if I tried, prev.

The Ainu have not intentionally forgotten their culture and their language. It is the modern Japanese state that, from the Meiji era on, usurped our land, destroyed our culture, and deprived us of our language under the euphemism of assimilation. In the space of a mere 100 years, they nearly decimated the Ainu culture and language that had taken tens of thousands of years to come into being on this earth. ~Kayano Shigeru (1926-2006) Our Land Was a Forest: An Ainu Memoir

[july-19th-club]

a while back i read jane eyre for the first time since high school in anticipation of watching the 2006 wilson/stephens miniseries. it's incredible to reread these classic novels as an adult, because while i got all the words and understood the *content* as a teenager, i didn't at all find the book interesting or fun to read. anyway i think one of the reasons that book stood the test of time isn't so much the gothic intrigue and how fucked up rochester and his wife are . he sucks so bad in so many ways . but he keeps needing rescued from stuff and only jane can do it . he fucking breaks an ankle falling off a horse early in her employment with him and she's the one who helps him back to the house . his attic wife sets his bedroom on fire and jane's the one who finds him and puts it out before he dies of smoke inhalation . then attic wife sets the house on fire after jane leaves and the whole place burns to the ground, grievous death and permanent injuries, etc, etc. jane comes back yippee everything's okay again! austen heroes don't get wounded like that because they're far too sedate and busy engaging in social seasons and heathcliff is like not wounded physically so much as destroyed emotionally . but this dude strikes the balance for readers who best enjoy when a man is collapsing of various problems and literally cant survive a day without some governess to pour water on his four-poster so he doesn't fry to a crisp

ALSO . i particularly was interested in the passages just after jane first meets him where she talks a lot about how if he was a normal polite person, or even just like a normal Lord with like, a sense of propriety and good manor house manners, she'd have been shy and awkward and uncomfortable and would have hated him. but i think where some interpretations get it wrong is that she doesn't think his rudeness is HOT. she thinks it's good for her own confidence, in that she knows her own self-esteem and social comfort levels are so low that all the scripts of peerage and society make her crawl into herself and disappear. she doesn't know how to follow the scripts convincingly, she's been emotionally abused her whole life so she has no sense of self-worth, but he doesn't follow the script. which means she doesn't have to worry about following it either. which does wonders for her confidence levels because when she can just act in ways that make sense to her rather than second-guessing whether she will be Approved Of, she can actually be a person. and that's what she first appreciates about him: his ability to (more or less without trying or even noticing) facilitate that for her.

"The incident had occurred and was gone for me: it was an incident of no moment, no romance, no interest in a sense; yet it marked with change one single hour of a monotonous life. My help had been needed and claimed; I had given it: I was pleased to have done something, trivial, transitory though the deed was, it was yet an active thing, and I was weary of an existence all passive."

[pterribledinosaurdrawings]

I went to an estate sale this morning and didn't find any fabric or sewing stuff like I was hoping to, BUT I got one of these things!!

A date stamp like they used to use on library cards! The years on this one go from 1995-2006, which for me was ages 1-12, and I definitely checked a lot of books out of the school library during the second half of that time.

Here's a dinosaur made entirely of New Year's Eve, 1995.

[soft-pine]

spn20rewatch: 1.18 something wicked

say your desk is covered with a pile of paperclips. something wicked is the magnet you drop in the middle and then they all stick to it; they're all connected.

it's all here. the parentification, the neglect, the way john treats dean which sam doesn't witness, the extreme likelihood that john was using his kids as bait, and the intentional, specific, glorious, lovely ways dean has specifically chosen not to be like his dad.

in the flashbacks, we see dean is in charge of feeding and looking after sam for (at least) three days in some random motel room with the shades drawn. he's not even supposed to go outside. he doesn't have a number for john, just the instruction that if john's not back by a certain time, he's supposed to call pastor jim.

we see john giving dean instructions and responsibility (and criticisms) which he's not giving to sam.

dean is at most 11 years old (ep takes place in 2006. dean says the case from when he was a kid was 16-17 years ago (1989/1990). john's journal places it in 1988; dean was 9)

crucially, even as an adult, dean barely talks to sam about what he remembers of the case when he was a kid. he lets go of little bits at a time and absolutely necessary to the case. but he does not want to process what happened. even when he's so torn up that he breaks down and explains what happened, he doesn't want to talk about it. in part, of course, because he's ashamed of failing to kill the shtriga. but also because dean keeps john's secrets (9.07). and even when he doesn't, sam is not who he tends to process with.

but it's deeply impactful to have an episode where we get to see how dean was treated as a child versus how he treats the kids he meets.

dean is so kind to children throughout season 1, from lucas in 1.03 to lily and charlie in 1.05 to michael here. there is something so great about the way he is both clear that the bad things aren't these kid's fault, while also understanding kids have agency and insight.

i know dean is torn up about using michael as bait for the shtriga but feels he doesn't have much of a choice in order to stop the thing. but the conversation he has with michael is so thorough it really gets me.

DEAN: This camera has night vision on it so we'll be able to see clear as day.... Are we good? SAM: A hair to the right... There, there. MICHAEL: What do I do? DEAN: Just stay under the covers. MICHAEL: And if it shows up? DEAN: We'll be right in the next room. We're gonna come in with guns. So, as soon as we do you roll off this bed and you crawl under it. MICHAEL: What if you shoot me? DEAN: We won't shoot you. We're good shots. We're not going to fire until you're clear ok? Have you heard a gunshot before? MICHAEL: Like in the movies? DEAN: It's gonna be a lot louder than in the movies. So I want you to stay under the bed, cover your ears, do not come out until we say so. You understand? DEAN: Michael, you sure you wanna do this? DEAN: You don't have to, it's ok, I won't be mad. MICHAEL: No I'm ok. Just don't shoot me. DEAN: We're not going to let anything happen to you. I promise.

what a specific contrast that is with

DEAN hesitates, terrified. As he does JOHN bursts through the front door, gun raised. JOHN: (Shouting) Get out of the way! DEAN ducks and JOHN shoots the shtriga multiple times with his hand gun.

something wicked is up there with monster at the end of the book for episode titles that'll make you crazy if you think about it too much.

some other thoughts are just, the first time i watched this scene i thought i was going to explode with love:

DEAN: Yeah well, first of all, I'm not going to open fire in a freakin' pediatrics ward.... Second, wouldn't have done any good, because the bastard's bullet proof unless he's chowing down on something. And third, I wasn't packing, which is probably a really good thing cause I probably would have just burned a clip in him on principle alone.

moral compass boy i would die for you a thousand times and get up and gladly do it again.

and nothing - i mean nothing - hits like dean's voice cracking over the "if it means anything sometimes i do too." like i could actually go insane.

also watching supernatural is how you fill up a computer disc with pictures of dean looking ever so beautiful. like. look at him!! ethereal!!

also also ilu microaggression michael. they should have brought you back in the finale, king.

[neil-gaiman]

You've mentioned that the first season was based on the book you and Terry did write, this second season is the bit in between, and the third season will be based on the book you and Terry didn't get a chance to write - does this mean that what will happen in the third season was already planned back in the 2000s?

My fear, I guess, is that people will watch whatever happens and say "oh this went woke, this isn't what Terry would have wanted, this ending was made up to satisfy fans from the 2020's".

I guess what I'm wondering is if, whatever happens in the third season, was part of the plan since there ever was a plan for a second novel?

Thanks Neil. With much love and admiration!

Some of it was plotted in 1989 and 1990, some of it was plotted in 2006.

[angelbarelywrites]

♡ slashers scenarios | may i have this dance?

♡ fandoms; Halloween, Texas Chainsaw Massacre (original + 2006), House of Wax, The Boy, Dead by Daylight, slashers (general)

♡ characters; Micheal Myers, Thomas Hewitt, Bubba Sawyer, Vincent Sinclair, Brahms Heelshire

♡ reader; gender neutral

♡cw; none really!!

♡notes; this popped into my brain the other day and i thought we were due for some fluff. i’m writing part two congruently so that’ll be posted soon too!!

•┈••✦ ❤ ✦••┈•

Micheal Myers

> Micheal Myers does not dance

> He doesn’t know how, and he doesn’t want to learn

> But like with a lot of things, you get him to bend his rules

> He has a habit of looming in doorways to watch you

> At first it’s disconcerting, but you learn it’s just how he is

> So you pay him no mind as he’s watching you dance around the kitchen to some song that’s too popular for him to know

> Sweet and silly and carefree…

> He clicks the speaker off with a quiet huff

> “Hey, I was listening to that-“ You pout

> He rolls his eyes and puts on something a bit more to his taste

> And before you can playfully complain any more, he wraps his arms around you from behind and sways softly

> It takes a second for you to process it- he’s not normally so…gentle

> But in his own weird little way, he’s dancing with you

> He tenses a bit when you turn around- he’s embarrassed but would never admit it- but when you kiss his cheek he relaxes and gives a quiet hum

>And he keeps swaying as you lay your head on his chest

>Just for you, as long as you don’t tell anyone…Micheal Myers does dance. Just a little.

Thomas Hewitt

> Thomas doesn’t think about dancing

> He’s seen it on TV, read about it in books…but the Hewitts aren’t really the dancing types

> Nearest thing to dancing that he can think of ever doing is being held by his mama, when she’d sing and rock him when he was hurt or upset

> And it’s been a long time since anyone could hold him like that

> But one day you’re upset- he doesn’t know why but you burst into tears the moment he walked in, and it has him in a tizzy

> He quickly scoops you up, checking for any injuries but…nothing. You’re just crying and he hates seeing you like that

> So he does what used to make him feel better

> He can’t sing- or at least won’t, his words are always few and far between- but he hums, low and rumbling in his chest

> As he holds you and slowly sways you start to calm down

> You sniffle and all of the sudden giggle

> “Thomas Hewitt; are you dancin’ with me right now?”

> He looks confused but slowly nods as he thinks about it

> “Well thank you. I needed this.”

> He nuzzles you and continues until you’re calm- and far after that if you’ll let him

Bubba Sawyer

> As we know, Bubba is a very sheltered fellow, but he does like dancing!

> He’s not particularly coordinated but he doesn’t need much coaxing to twirl you around and around

> He’ll dance without music, humming a nonsense tune to you, maybe even whistling

> And if you sing to him he can’t help grinning and giggling

> It’s not uncommon for him to sway and spin with you in the living room if the radio got left on

> And he gets shy when you’re caught by one of his brothers

> “Bubba you stop wasting time, you little—“

> You cock your hip and give Drayton a cold look

> “Oh, I’m a waste of time now, cook?”

> Like always a smart remark goes a long way with Drayton, the twins immediately “oooh”ing and teasing him as he flusters

> Soon enough he’s chasing them out cursing and wielding a pair of tongs

> Leaving you and Bubba forgotten and free to sneak off and continue your fun in peace

Vincent Sinclair

> You’d have to ask

> Probably more than once, honestly

> Vincent is an artistic man, that’s not a doubt in the slightest- but he’s not even a little interested in anything that involves performance

> But you have a way of getting your way with him

> “Vince baby?”

> “…”

> “Pretty please?”

> “…”

> “If we take pictures then you can paint us.”

> He perks up a bit and you know you’ve got him

> “Cmon silly!” You drag him into the house of Wax, camcorder in hand

> Having gotten that far, you finally realize you don’t particularly know how to dance either, not really

> But you don’t tell him that, instead turning on the music and pulling him against you

> You’re clumsy and awkward and adorable as you spin around with him, not even a bit embarrassed

> He isn’t sure the reference stills are usable, but he’s more than happy the sweet moment on camera

Brahms Heelshire

> Brahms treats you like royalty- whatever you want is yours

> So if you say you’d like to go dancing, he is more than happy to arrange something

> Though of course, he doesn’t like leaving home… no matter. There’s plenty of room in the manor

> He makes a date out of it- he’s prone to making dates out of lots of silly things

> Silly or not, it’s sweet, and as always you fawn over him and praise him for the thoughtfulness

> He even bought you a cute outfit for the occasion - he loves dolling you up (pun slightly intended)

> After setting the music he bows and offers his hand- being a rich brat he knows a bit of ballroom dancing

> He’s more than happy to teach you, humming “1-2-3” with your steps

> But he’s laughing and giggling and just can’t stop gushing over how cute you are

> So if you fall into slow dancing like it’s the prom, he doesn’t mind

> Any dance with you is more than he can ask for

[ihavenolife346]

My own peace

Pairing: 2006!James Hetfeild x f!reader

Summary: James really just needed to relax after a bad day, he was tired, and just done with life. He just needed her, even if he didn’t have the energy for anything.

Warnings: some swearing, smut (to a degree), Cockwarming, only slight hint of Somnophilia.

James was just done with life for the day. Everything that could’ve gone wrong, went wrong for him. Lars was arguing with him all day, Bob just seemed to want to pick a fight with him, a few of his guitar strings broke, he was just done with life for the day. He wanted to just go home, lay down, and just hold his girlfriend. Though he knew they had dinner plans for the night, he didn’t want to disappoint her, he knew she was excited, but my lord he didn’t have the energy for anything at all.

From the second he walked in the door, his eyes immediately went to Y/N who was just peacefully sitting on the couch and reading one of her books. “God she’s gorgeous” he thought to himself when he realized how nice her hair looked, he could tell she got herself all dolled up, he knew she was excited to go out for the night, he was just telling himself to push through the night.

When she heard the door close, she finished reading the page she was on before she turned her head and looked over her shoulder once James started walking over to her. She could just tell he was exhausted from the bags under his eyes, the way his shoulders were slight slumped, but a genuine smile crawled onto her face the second she saw him. “Hi baby…” she greeted with a happy tone when he walked up behind the couch and leaned over her a bit.

James gently put his hand on her chin, tilting her head back a bit to properly look at her even if she was looking at him upside down, a tired but happy smile falling on his face as he glanced over the beautiful white dress she had been wearing, “hi sweet girl…you look beautiful…” James spoke in a soft murmur, pressing a gentle kiss to the girl’s forehead.

When she heard just how tired he sounded, she almost immediately realized he probably didn’t wanna go out tonight. “Thank you baby…you tired?” She questioned, her head falling back against the couch to keep looking up at him.

James let out a quiet sigh, nodding ever so slightly, trying to cover up just how tired he actually was. “Just a bit…but I’ll be ready to go here in about 15 minutes or so.” James gently patted her cheek, making the girl nod softly, placing another kiss on her forehead before he stood back upright and heading upstairs without another word.

As excited as she was about going out for the night, she knew he had a bad day, and probably just wanted to stay home. She really just cared more about him feeling ok and for them both to actually having a good time instead of him forcing himself to go out just for her sake. Once she heard their bedroom door shut, she set her book down on the coffee table and grabbed out her phone, finding the restaurant’s number within seconds. She made the choice the second he was upstairs to go ahead and cancel for the night and just let him relax. She simply just explained to the lady who picked up her call that plans changed and they couldn’t make their reservation, and decided to just reschedule for a night she knew for a fact James wasn’t to busy on.

_________________________

James had taken what he thought was just a second to lay down on their bed and close his eyes once he had gotten upstairs, just trying to get his mind to shut off and his body to relax even for just 5 minutes before he started getting ready. He had only opened his eyes once he heard their bedroom door open and shut quietly, almost immediately starting to panic that he may of actually fallen asleep and they would be lays to their reservation. “Shit, I’m sorry baby, I just need like 5 minutes then I’ll be ready.” James rambled when he saw her standing at the doorway with that same smile on her face, almost immediately shooting up from his laying down position.

She almost immediately shook her head softly, wandering over to their bed and sitting down on the edge of the bed next to where he was sitting, gently pushing his shoulder back down so he’d lay down. “I canceled the reservation…rescheduled for next Saturday…” she muttered, her hand gently stroking his cheek for a second.

Hearing that she had rescheduled their reservation, he almost immediately felt terrible about it. She looked so beautiful with her hair done the way it was, the makeup she put on, and that beautiful white dress he got her a few weeks prior, “aw beautiful…you didn’t have too…I can be ready in just a few.” James muttered apologetically, one of his hands reaching up to keep the hand she was caressing his cheek with against his skin.

She shook her head softly again, a small smile still on her face, “you’re tired…I know you are…and I know you’re not that busy next Saturday…nothing to feel bad about, just pushing back dinner is all.” She reassured with a gentle tone, leaning down and pressing a quick peck to his nose. “Besides…cuddles all night? It’s a win win for me either way.” She snickered quietly, making it clear that she wasn’t gonna take an argument but still at least wanted cuddles, pulling her hand away from his face for only a moment just so she could get up and get changed into something more comfortable.

James let out a quite chuckle, honestly having to have much different plans for them for the night for after they got home, but god he was just grateful that she canceled and that he could just hold her for the night. Though he still felt bad about not taking her out, or making her feel good like he planned to, or having to have her change plans after knowing she was excited, he didn’t have the energy to really argue it at all. He watched as he went over to the bathroom, assuming she was going to take off her makeup, eventually deciding to just go ahead and get comfortable. James slipped off his t-shirt and jeans, leaving him in just his boxers before he just laid back down on top of their blankets, just waiting for her to come back.

Within two or three minutes, Y/N came wandering back into their bedroom, her makeup off and hair back to just being down, reaching behind her to unzip her dress as she wandered over to their dresser. James’s eyes almost immediately went over to her the second she came back into the bedroom, still feeling bad that he really didn’t have much energy to do anything for her. Staring at her for a second as she rummaged through the dresser, he got an idea that he figured he could at least try. “Hey sweet girl…C’mere.” James mumbled out tiredly, moving a bit so his back was against the pillows and he was somewhat sitting upright, reaching out a hand for her.

Y/N glanced back over her shoulder when she heard him pipe up, unzipping her dress before she turned and walked back over to where he was laying. “Yea baby…?” She questioned softly, placing her hand in his.

James laced his fingers with hers the second she placed her hand in his, his free hand reaching up to gently tug on one of the straps of her dress to try and pull it down. “Get this off…” James murmured softly, looking up at her with an apocalyptic yet happy look.

Y/N looked at him a bit curiously, but did as told and took her hand out of his for a moment to slip her dress off, leaving her in her panties and bra in front of him before she laced her fingers back with his. James let his eyes wander over her body for a moment, a very fond look on his face before he gently tugged on her hand, making her sit back down on the edge of the bed. Even though he really did just wanna sleep, he still wanted to at least do something for her. “Good girl…now c’mere…” James murmured, reaching out and grabbing onto her thighs and moved her so she was straddling his lap.

Y/N let out a soft giggle when he moved her onto his lap, letting herself get comfortable with her legs on either side of his thighs. “Whatcha doing baby…?” She questioned softly, her hands eventually slowly trailing up and down his chest.

“Just let me do something for ya…” James murmured, doing this both for her and himself, gently lifting her up just a bit to slip his cock out of his boxers while his other hand moved her panties to the side. He just wanted to feel close to her, he wanted to hold her and at least love on her for the night. James didn’t even give her a second to say anything before he lined himself up with her entrance and slowly sank her down onto his hardening cock, a quiet groan leaving her lips within seconds.

Y/N knew from the second he lifted her up a bit and she felt her panties get moved aside, she knew what he wanted and honestly she was more than happy to comply. She let out a soft, quiet moan when she felt his cock slide inside her and bottomed out, feeling that warmth she always felt when he touched her pool between her legs just from that one motion, her head almost immediately falling onto his shoulder, “god-baby…” she whined quietly, growing used to the feeling of him inside her after a moment, knowing he just wanted to hold her right now and honestly, feeling him as close as he possibly could be, it made her feel warm and just happy inside.

“I Gottcha baby…” James murmured, feeling his cock harden just from being inside her. As much as he wanted to move and just fuck her and tell her how much he loved her to make up for ending up canceling dinner, he honestly felt like he could fall asleep right then and there. James brought a hand up to the back of her head, gently holding her head against his shoulder while his other arm wrapped around her middle to keep her close to him. Feeling the skin to skin contact, feeling her so close to him, and just being inside her in a completely intimate way, that was exactly what he needed after his day. “Just let me do this for you…I’m sorry I’m so tired…” James murmured softly into her ear.

“Don’t apologize…this-this is perfect…I love you…” Y/N muttered against his shoulder, honestly quite enjoying the warmth of his skin pressed against hers and feeling him inside her. She was perfectly content just sitting here for however long he wanted her too, as long as she was spending time with him she was perfectly happy, and she really couldn’t think of a better was to spend time with him at all.

“I love you too my sweet girl…” James pressed a few kisses to her shoulder before letting his head rest against hers, pretty much basking in the feeling of her in his arms and her just letting him be inside her. This was what he needed right now, he needed to feel the warmth she always provided him, he needed to feel her close to him, even if they weren’t necessarily being sexual, he just needed to feel her. James really did want to do more for her, he felt himself getting harder just from feeling how tight and wet she was around him, normally he would but he was just exhausted right now and planned to spend either the whole not or 99% of the night with his cock buried inside her and holding her close. All he knew for a fact was that he would be making up for it before she even woke up.

[wisteria-lotus]

Hidden Confessions

Written by: wisteria

Edited by: lotus

Content. MDNI :nsfw!, 18+, fluff, slight angst, smut, explicit language, vaginal fingering, breast play, unprotected sex (tell us if we missed anything!)

Sorcerer AU

Pairing:Fushiguro Megumi x fem! Reader

(Childhood friends to lovers)

(all characters aged up!)

August 14th, 2007

You looked at all the other kids your age, playing around and having fun. Laughing and screaming as they played tag endlessly. While you, a six and A HALF year old, were talking to your very first friend you made when you moved to this unfamiliar town. That first friend being, Tsumiki, Tsumiki Fushiguro. “Tsumiki!” you would shout, each time you would see her at the playground nearest to your house. Yet, this time a grumpy boy was next to her, with jet black hair, sharp eyes, and a very intimidating mood to him. Tsumiki soon introduced him, her younger brother, Megumi Fushiguro. Though at first he was scary, it’s right to like people that Tsumiki likes, if she likes something, you would. If she didn’t like something, you wouldn’t like it. She was your role model, someone who first approached you. And so, with the built up courage, you approached. “Hello! My name is Y/N. I’m six and a half!” which was actually the standard first-time greeting for kids your age. Pushing your hand forward like an adult for a hand shake, awkward seconds passed until he finally spoke,“ Fushiguro Megumi. five years old” his voice monotone without a hint of the joys you hear from the other boys. “Sorry, He’s not very…social.” Tsumiki quickly said after the cold greeting his brother had given you, followed by an awkward laugh from her.  Although he was a bit odd, you would have to like him, since Tsumiki did as well.

September 5th, 2006

You found out some details about him, but not from him of course, all from Tsumiki. One thing you learned was that he liked to read, since that was usually all he did when you three were hanging out, even when you attempted  to talk to him. you noticed that he likes to eat food that's well paired with ginger, for some odd reason, especially for someone who’s only six years old. Yet you let it slide, since Tsumiki didn’t mind. The one memory you remember would be the one where you were playing hide and seek with Tsumiki, while megumi was reading a book filled with tiny words, which you knew barely nothing of, you had been caught from hiding and started to run away from Tsumiki, where she was the tagger, yet you tripped on a uneven pavement tile, making you scrape your knee. It stung a lot, especially since it was basically solid concrete, your eyes burning a little, but trying not to cry. Megumi was there, rummaging through his backpack and walking towards you with a blank face, crouching down to see the injury. You were surprised he had even seen you fall at this point. While Tsumiki was worried about you but also adoring the little interaction you two were having. Megumi taking out an alcohol wipe to clean the scrape, those ones you would see at the doctors when they were cleaning your wound that would sting like you had been hit by a car. You were terrified. “Noooo!!!! Not the wipe!!” You whined with slightly watery eyes. Megumi looked up at you and sighed. “It’s not gonna hurt”, was what he said, but that was a big lie, a big fat lie. Because right when it touched your skin, it stung. You bit your lip, maybe enough for it to bleed, not wanting to be known as a crybaby in front of Tsumiki and Megumi. The pain did subside though with the help of the plain band aid that covered your once exposed wound. You were a bit bummed out it wasn’t any of your favorite band aids, like the one with hello kitty on it, but you’ll accept, just because he’s Tsumiki’s beloved younger brother. “Thank you!” you said to him after he had put the band aid on, your nose red from the attempt to not cry. He stood up and turned around after, you swore you saw a glimpse of him smiling when he turned. But you were four, how would you remember?

November 23rd, 2006

The last day you saw the Fushiguro siblings, you were waiting for them at the playground, the same time you guys usually meet. Yet, after 15 minutes passed, they were nowhere to be seen. . So, you decided to walk towards their house to check on them , only to see people moving things. . ‘Huh.’ is what popped up in your head that day. Then, Tsumiki and Megumi began to walk out and get into a car, one you have never seen being used by the two of them.  There was also a peculiar tall white haired man going into the car with Tsumiki and Megumi.  But, the people moving boxes from their house only meant one thing: they were moving. You couldn’t wrap your head around the fact that they hadn’t even told you. A trickle of teardrops fell down your cheeks and your sleeves were stained from rubbing the tears off your face. . Megumi turned back, feeling someone staring and saw you, crying, the same expression that he wore that day when you had scraped your knee. Megumi gave you one last look before turning back to get inside the car, where Tsumiki was already in. That day was the last day you saw those two. The last day they would be there to play with you. The last day you saw the Fushiguros.

January 1st,2017

January 1st, 2017, was the day you almost died. Frozen in place from seeing the gruesome monster in front of you. ‘What the hell’, was your only thoughts that momentYou couldn’t move and broke out in cold sweat, because of the ‘thing’ in front of you that was eating a… human limb?! . Blood splattered on the walls, the floors and you could hear the horrible noise and crunch of the monster chewing on the bones. . ‘Run. run. Run. run,’ you screamed internally to yourself,but for some reason, you couldn’t. Then, in the flash of an eye,  someone came in and punched it. You saw a glimpse of bright pink hair and brown eyes. You finally staggered back. It was gone..? How?

The boy looked over at you, kinda like a very curious puppy, “You can see it?”

“What?”

“The curse, like the ugly one”

“Y-yes…”

He smiled, like a big beam of sun, so warming.

“I better tell Gojo about this. You're gonna be my classmate!”

He pulled his hand out forward even though it was still covered in the goo.

“Oh-” 

He wiped it after noticing it though.

“My name is Yuuji Itadori.”

That’s how it started. How you had started your training of becoming a jujutsu sorcerer.

January 3rd,2017

You could hear Yuji talking, his voice a bit muffled, mixed with the voice of a girl. It was nerve wracking how a girl who was attending a regular high school transferred to one in the mountains, also finding out that she had some weird curse technique of some sort that you still can’t figure out yourself. ‘Here it goes’ you thought. Taking a big breath and finally sliding the door open, walking in. “This is our new student! y/n!”  your teacher, Gojo, said with a big smile.

You lifted your head up finally, to see one girl with short brown hair, slicked to the side, Yuji Itadori, and… Fushiguro..Megumi. You found out the girl’s name was Kugisaki Nobora. She was pretty cheerful, like Yuji. Then there wasMegumi, the same Megumi from eleven years ago, the same one who gave you the bandaid on your knee that day. So, you being you, you tried to approach him again.  A small spark of hope grew inside you that Megumi would say something back. Anything.  But, as expected, he just walked away, crushing any lasting hope that you had into ashesUntil you met him in the hallways while going back to your dorm.

“Megumi.”

He looked at you, his hands in his pockets, with that same blank expression.

“How’s tsumiki?” you asked, since that was the first thing that popped into your head. 

That's when it hit him. The sad look on his face when you mentioned her name. He looked away for a moment. The whole mood just got brought down even more. He finally just crumbled, the once stone statue crumbled in an instant. He crouched down on the ground covering his face while his body was shaking. You quickly went down knowing that something had probably happened. 

“Megumi?”

You tried to put your hand on his back but he quickly swatted it away. His face getting revealed, tears rolling down his delicate green eyes. He was crying, in front of you. He felt warmth the next second, your arms wrapped around him, making him finally give in and cry it all out. He was hurt. 

“Oh..it's going to be alright..”

But he shook his head covering his face on your shoulders.

What had really happened?

January 4th-5th, 2017

This was themost awkward situation you’ve ever been in. sparring with THE Fushiguro megumi, and after last night seeing him like that?! You gave Nobora the saddest face, mouthing to her, ”please get me out.” You had gotten beat up quite a bit after the sparring session. You walked towards Yuji and Nobora for comfort.

“Does he usually hit so hard..” you groaned

“What.? He went so easy on you!” Yuji said

“WHAT.”

There was no way he would go easy on you. Why would he? 

You thought about that for some time, no, the whole day, and you made the conclusion, it’s probably because Tsumiki said something..

But what really happened to her that made him break down like that last night..?

So you went up to your sensei, finding out the horrifying news to which would make you break down too if you were in megumi’s shoes. Tsumiki fell into a coma. 

The next day, you didn’t really process things well. Yuji would be talking to you head on, yet you were in another world. The whole day.

October 5th, 2023

It’s been years, and Tsumiki was still in a coma. Well, she was in front of you after all, laying down in the hospital for god knows how long. Megumi besides you, just looking down. You guys have gotten closer throughout the years though. Knowing each other's hobbies and sorts.  One wet droplet fell on the blanket of Tsumiki’s and you looked to your right. He was crying, just like that day, his fluttering eyelashes slightly clumped together from his tears. Even if he was crying, he was still drop dead gorgeous. You really didn’t know what to do in this situation except to hug him, when the feeling of deja vu hit you. “It’s gonna be okay..” you said repeatedly, even though you wouldn’t know half the pain he felt. 

“Y/N.. it hurts.” 

“I know..” 

You regret saying those words right when it came out of your mouth, you knew you were lying, you could never feel how hurt he was.

Him crying like that, was what ended you up in the bar, drinking to your heart's content with him. The beer bottles out on the table from others, the bustling restaurant and the drunk workers talking to each other. Other college students having a party for who knows what. But what really concerned you was Megumi’s drinking skills. You could handle maybe 3 quarters of a bottle at most. But he couldn't even handle half. He was already confessing to you about how even though he looked like he hated Gojo sensei, he was grateful that he had a home thanks to him. Just hearing that made you sober.  Telling you how Yuji and Nobora were actually the first people after you to talk to him without being scared. Soon after his rants, he  fell asleep. This led you to having his arms on your shoulders, carrying him into his apartment (you found his keys in his pocket). Clacking your shoes off the front door, finally, you just have to make it to the couch. One step, two step, three.. You felt a hand creep to your waist, pulling you down with him, you landed with a big oof on the couch. 

“y/n.”

You were only mere inches away, you could feel his minty breath against you. While he nuzzled his head against the crook of your neck. 

“Megumi, you're drunk..”

He shook his head.

“Mm..shut up.”

He raised his head up to see your face. His delicate eyelashes flutter to admire you. Oh. he was close. Too close. You were sure it was the alcohol making your ears heated as well as your face. It had to be. 

“I should go-”

He cut you off with a kiss, one so gentle but so alluring. Geez, it had to be the alcohol. Even from breaking the kiss once his lips kept on coming back to yours, like a magnet. You knew he was smart, which was probably how his tongue slid into your mouth, and how his hand slid up your sweater. His hands were cold, unclasping your bra while you were still distracted with the ongoing kisses. Your nipples perked up, while he squeezed and played with it like the little remotes on the claw machines and then that slick feeling in your panties. His other hand creeped to play with your clothed folds.

“You're making me go insane..”  his voice was raspy yet it made your body shake.

 His lips made its way down to your neck, sucking on it. It didn’t make the mess in your panties get better at all, it made it worse. His fingers rubbing your still-clothed clit gently, as you couldn't keep in your moans ever since the beginning anyways, but now it had only gotten louder. The noises filled the room, casting a heated mood. The wet noises of his fingers going in and out of you while your moans filled his ears. How did it even turn out like this? What was more insane was how Megumi looked under you. You knew he was skillful with his hands, after all, he uses it for summoning his shikigamis, but not in this way. Not the way to make your body shudder and feel all tingly when he kept rubbing and thrusting his fingers inside. The light scent of his perfume matched him perfectly. It was all so intimate to you. How his hands roamed around leaving sparks of excitement. Lifting up your clothes from your body swiftly, taking off your panties, while his lips trailing red marks.

“Do you like it?”

Yet your mouth wouldn’t help you reply at all. Only moans coming out. His fingers thrust into you from each breath you take. You were close. Your insides tighten around his fingers, making his dick harden from thinking about the pure ecstasy of his dick inside you instead of his fingers. 

“I’m gonna-” but the last word wouldn’t come out.

“Say it for me” his voice slightly seductive from his usually cold tone of voice. 

“Im gonna cum-” which was followed by a loud moan and your back arching.

His two fingers getting drenched in your cum was such a sight. His eyes filled with raw desire, erupting butterflies in your stomach. 

“Fuck. y/n..”

Even after you came you wanted more, like a magnet for him. You wanted him, no, you needed him. Even though after this your friendship may become a ruin, you wouldn't care less after seeing his dick bulging out of his gray- black boxers. Leading to you trying to put his length inside of you, tempting to megumi. Moaning continuously from each inch getting swallowed deeper inside you. Your hands on his chest while sucked your hard nipples, saliva dripping down your chest. It was so tempting for him to just bring his hands to your waist and thrust you down onto him, but he had some self control. Slowly thrusting up and down from him, squelching noises filling the room. Shit, he really couldn’t help himself anymore. So his hands were brought up to our waist finally pushing your waist up and down.

“Ahn-!” gasping from the surprise of how deep and quick he went.

He flipped you over and started to thrust deeper while occupying your mouth with sloppy, deep kisses. 

“Your tightening around me so much, y/n..ngh-” his groan was even beautiful to you.

His sweat making his body glisten in the dim lighting.  The creaking of the couch was unnoticeable to what was already happening. 

“Megumi, megumi-!” His name spewing out of your mouth from each thrust was melodic. Everything was so sensitive to you, as if your senses were heightened. You thought, at this point his dick would be shaped inside you. His grip on your waist tightening more as he thrust into you deeper, making you already loud moans even louder. 

“I love you for being so damn stupid” thrust “stubborn” thrust “annoying”

Your walls clenching around him, making you cum for the second time, making a grunt spill out of his mouth. His dick getting pulled out quickly while his cum shot onto you. A gasp leaving your mouth from his withdrawal, while your clit throbs from the previous orgasm. He fell next to you on the couch to regain his composure, panting while sweat dripped down his handsome sculpted face. 

After a few minutes you finally realized what mess you made with him as well as what you did with him, first of all. Yet he was unfazed, I mean after all he confessed to you his long burrowed feeling for you while you guys were…  In the corner of his eyes he saw you slap your face to get yourself out of the trance, making him chuckle a little. Bringing some wipes and cleaning the evidence of what had happened. His touch was soft and gentle, who wouldn’t fall for a man like him. 

“I love you too, megumi.”

He looked up at you in slight surprise, “what did you say?”

“I love you, megumi”

You saw the slight pink rise up on his face as well as his ears, and you couldn’t help but smile.

He just continued to help you, but you already knew he loved you as much as you did him. 

[preseriesdean]

for @spnficrecfest day nine: vintage fics 🧡 (published pre-season six)

by CANDLE_BECK

Last Day on Earth 10.8k words, rated E, published july 2009 A list of things to do if you only have one day to live, presented in inconvenient non-list form.

Eight Things You Should Know 7.7k words, rated T, published dec. 2008 Being in love with Dean is the most annoying thing.

Speechless 11.2k words, rated T, published oct. 2008 Dean loses his voice and their rapport is only moderately impaired.

Second Map of the World 13.9k words, rated E, published sep. 2010 They're on a lucky streak, and then Sam does something ill-considered, and the plot thickens.

American Myth 11.5k words, rated M, published nov. 2007 As long as you have a car, you are free, and other lies my country taught me.

by WHEREUPON

Breathing Hard 9k words, rated E, published aug. 2009 The day Dean figures it out.

Love Letter 4.8k words, rated E, published sep. 2009 It's almost fall and Sam hasn't said anything about leaving.

Head On 8.3k words, rated M, published june 2009 And then, just like that, Dean falls.

by SEVENFISTS

Wear Him Like a Habit 2.2k words, rated M, published march 2008 Their first kiss isn't an accident. It's anticipated well in advance, discussed for weeks, argued over, second-guessed.

Someone Else's Blood 6.7k words, rated E, published aug. 2006 The first time, of course, was an accident.

Life As We Know It 13.7k words, rated M, published apr. 2007 On the morning that Sam woke up, Dean ran five red lights on the way to the hospital, his half-empty coffee cup sloshing in the holder.

Just Reach Out 1.9k words, rated E, published apr. 2006 Sam wakes up slowly. The dull hum of noise in the distance resolves into Dean's voice, quietly singing along with the radio. Sam's face is stuck to the leather seat. He's been drooling a little; the corner of his mouth is wet. He moves his hand tentatively, feeling it prickle, heavy with blood. The window's rolled down.

The Art of Manly Hugging 1.6k words, rated E, published aug. 2007 Sometimes, you know, Dean just needs a goddamn hug.

by COYOTESUSPECT

Odysseus, American 10.1k words, rated M, published feb. 2010 Dean finds Peter O'Toole's recording of the Odyssey in a bin marked “Audio" in Casa Grande's only used bookstore. The place smells like cigarette smoke and old books, and it reminds him of Sam.

Divine Intervention by coyotesuspect 3.8k words, rated T, published aug. 2008 "Dude," says Sam. "I think Castiel just hit on me."

by ASTOLAT

Leader of the Pack 14.9k words, rated E, published dec. 2007 Teaching old dogs new tricks.

Inseparable 6.7k words, rated M, published jan. 2008 It was just plain sense, so Dean didn't understand why something about the way Dad said quietly, "It's time you had your own bed," made him feel guilty and confused.

Unasked 15.3k words, rated M, published june 2007 Sam doesn't ask.

Worth The Wait 4.4k words, rated E, published jan. 2008 Sam couldn't remember a time when he didn't want Dean.

Generosity 1.7k words, rated E, published may 2007 John had traded the gun; he'd have traded away more, and he was still feeling the cold dread of the moment when the demon had cocked its head like a pistol and said, "You know, I'm feeling generous today," because if it hadn't taken more, that was only because it figured what was in store was going to be worse.

by MOLLYAMORY

North of Wednesday 3.5k words, rated G, published feb. 2008 Coda to Mystery Spot.

Open Road 2k words, rated T, published may 2010 Sam's old enough to know what's good for him.

by FLESHFLUTTER

whose wings, though tattered, shall carry me home (dean/cas, sam/dean) 2.2k words, rated T, published march 2009 There is a breeze moving across the field. It stirs the long grass in lapping waves like the sea. Castiel runs his fingertips through it and remembers flying.

I'll take my chance on a beautiful stranger 3.9k words, rated M, published june 2007 If Chase were a better friend, he might try to end the game now, before Brendan loses even more money. But if Brendan is a dick at Stanford, it’s nothing compared to how he is on break.

by others

The Last Outpost Of All That Is by gekizetsu 59k words, rated E, published feb. 2008 The world ends while they’re asleep.

a journey of a thousand miles by killabeez 2.3k words, rated T, published aug. 2006 Sam spends a lot of time being afraid, but it's not the things that go bump in the night that scare him the most.

Almost At Home by balefully 24.3k words, rated E, published july 2008 Sam graduates from high school in early June in rural Tennessee. He and Dean start the summer with an all-nighter of celebration; the day after, while both fight hangovers, John calls to assign them their first hunt by themselves.

State of Love and Trust/As I Busted Down the Pretext by cormallen 2.9k words, rated M, published jan. 2010 When you know exactly what your brother's thinking, there are some chances you just don't take.

[disneytva]

Dynamite Comics Launches Kickstarter for GARGOYLES Classic Comics As Part Of The Show's 30th Anniversary.

Dynamite Comics and Disney Comics are celebrating the 30th anniversary of Gargoyles with the first-ever Kickstarter campaign featuring brand new graphic novels collecting long out-of-print Gargoyles comic books.

Dynamite Entertainment brought back Gargoyles as a comic series in 2022 to great acclaim. Now the publisher is crowdfunding a reprint of the classic comics based on the beloved animated series. To celebrate the 30th anniversary, Dynamite is excited to offer three beautiful tomes collecting all of these previous tales for fans. The set is initially being offered on Kickstarter to reach and communicate with diverse fans of all ages directly.

“I’m honestly thrilled that these three volumes will finally give Gargoyles fans easy access to these great stories, including the canon SLG tales!” said Weisman. “I think the Dynamite Kickstarter is a great way for Gargoyles fans to get the word out and to reserve their copies. This could be a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, so I hope our fans don’t miss out!”

The first volume is the hotly anticipated compilation of the first-ever Gargoyles comic series from 1995. This 11-issue title was originally released by Marvel Comics and is set loosely between the first two seasons of the original TV show. The memorable first issue featured a jaw-dropping cover by artist Joe Madureira, one of the biggest superstars of the era from his work on Uncanny X-Men. The series was written by Martin Pasko (Superman) and Mort Todd.

The second and third volumes of the Gargoyles Classic Years will be an incredible treat. From 2006 to 2009, a new Gargoyles comic series was launched from SLG Publishing in association with CreatureComics — the first written by Weisman. The main series, often referred to as “Clan Building,” was joined by a companion title, Bad Guys. Issues #9-12 of Gargoyles and #5-6 of Bad Guys did not see release and were only printed in paperback collections with small print runs. They were produced at a smaller digest size and have been incredibly expensive for years on the secondary market. 

The three-volume set is available in multiple variations for different kinds of fans and collectors. Each is available as either hardcover or paperback. Deluxe hardcover editions with signed tip-in pages are being offered. For the Gargoyles diehards, the most premium option will be the Gargoyles 30th Anniversary Premier Editions limited to just 1,000 copies each!

In addition to the books at the center of this celebration, the campaign will offer several add-ons for backers, including lithograph prints of Jae Lee and Amanda Conner’s covers for Dynamite’s Gargoyles #1. The most premium art piece anyone can get will be a deluxe signed and remarqued giclée print of Lee’s Gargoyles art.

In addition to the reprint of the full series, fans can get special facsimile editions of the very first issue with gold or purple foil stamping. Sketch cover options are also available, as well as commissioned original art from Lee. Plus, collector packs of variant cover sets or premium limited editions and metal covers for Dynamite’s series can be added.

[violetasteracademic]

I just finished cc3 and I’m worried the next book will be about nesta. Why do you think the next book is still about elain?

Hello my darling anon! Congrats on finishing CC3, you have sent this to a rare bird in the wild who actually enjoyed the hell out of it despite the flaws. So I hope you had a good time!

I'm a bit nervous to show you guys this side of me. Well, I suppose I've been showing it, but to compile it in such a way is quite another ordeal. That being said, I have toooons of links and resources to share why, for me personally, it is so clear that Nesta's story is *not* over, and Elain's book is undoubtedly next. Both of these things are true, but it has everything to do with the direction of the multiverse, which is very tightly woven, and *not* ACOTAR 5/6, which has been in the works for near a decade. Save this. Come back to it. Take your time working through it. I'm giving you everything, anon!

We have two parts at play: ACOTAR and the new series, which I have no doubt in my mind is Twilight of the Gods (more on that later) so lets start with facts before we move on to theory.

I am positive Elain's book is next because Sarah's messaging has remained 100% consistent since signing on the ACOTOR spinoffs in 2016. Moving forward from ACOWAR, she wrote ACOFAS as a novella to "bridge the gap" between ACOWAR and the spinoffs, and set up the future of ACOTAR. That was completely true for ACOSF, where everything that was set up has come to pass or been expanded on so far. The introduction of the Blood Rite, Nesta's mental health struggles, Morrigan being assigned to Vallahan, and the continued escalation of Elain's relationship with Azriel and Lucien's with the Band of Exiles. We meet Emerie, we learn more about the struggles of the patriarchy in Illyria, so on and so forth.

Then, we have ACOSF. The first dual POV romance of ACOTAR. This was only the beginning of a long term plan of dual POV romances coming to fruition. Here is youtube video from early on in the process describing the spinoffs as standalones that feature a different romantic pairing each book, but form a backbone when united.

By 2020, after ACOSF was announced, Sarah reiterated again that the new spinoff series features a new couple each book, with their own miniature plot and romance resolving within the overarching story of ACOTAR. Here she also shares that she plans to write a *lot* more than what she is contracted for, and has a ton of different ships to choose from. You can watch that here.

And now we move to 2021, after ACOSF was released, and Sarah confirms she always planned to write a book about Elain here.

This is actually a great interview and one of my favorites. You can watch the whole thing here. Eva Chen is a real one.

As far as ACOTAR goes, Sarah has continued to confirm in multiple interviews that her initial plans regarding the spinoffs have not changed, and still largely follow that initial outline she pitched back in 2016. And it was always going to be Nesta and Elain.

I will reiterate, ACOTAR is its own series with its own structure. Every ACOTAR book will feature a new couple with their own romance story. ACOTAR will continue to be exclusively a romance series from here on out. A lot of people speculate a lot of things on the future of ACOTAR. That we'll get a big finale with a multi-pov, that the story will end after Koschei, that we'll have a Kingdom of Ash style book. None of this is true. Sarah is going to keep contracting ACOTAR books until she runs out of couples. If you think this sounds odd, keep in mind that SJM herself is a fan of and grew up on Nalini Singh, who has series that started in 2006/2009 and are still going, featuring a new couple each book:

So, this is not strange behavior for the genre, and I think SJM is excited to have an ongoing fantasy romance series like this. And I'm excited for us to read it!

So, no KoA multi-pov finale. No second Nesta book. ACOTAR is an ongoing romance series with an "unspecified number of books remaining."

Okay! Now let's talk about Nesta! Bone Carver voice: Nestaaaaaaa

I'm going to do something just for you, Anon. And whoever catches this in the next week or so. I left titkok as far as booktok/content making and whatnot and privatized all my videos with my face on them (for a variety of reasons. Some fandom/bullying related, some not) but I did a massive breakdown of SJM's publishing contracts and all of the lore for Twilight of the Gods build up. I did get some of my screenshots from other Tumblr accounts, and linked my sources in the caption! Give this a watch (it's long) and pop back over.

Obviously if you spend some time in the comments section, mostly the questions at large are regarding timeline. I'm happy to chat theory, but focusing on Nesta, it is incredibly important and specific that she had her role in CC3 and that she connected The Valkyrie to Midgard, aka Middle Earth in Norse mythology which is where Twilight of the Gods, aka Ragnarok takes place. We have seen Midgard, Hel, and I have no doubt we will see Asgard.

But take a look at the difference between Nesta and Azriel's journey in CC3. Nesta had a deep emotional arc with Bryce. She developed trust and a relationship with her that Azriel didn't. In the HoFaS bonus chapter, Nesta forged a bond and a relationship with Bryce's mom, Ember. Nesta and Bryce's development is what is important here: Nesta has now created the bridge between the Valkyrie and Midgard. Valkyrie are the chosen fighters of Odin in Twilight of the Gods- the war at Ragnarok.

Twilight of the Gods is coming, fam. Crescent City three also revealed that The Mother, Urd, and Wyrd are all the same entity. The Goddess of all creation and fate. She oversees all worlds, and another important but oft overlooked element in the CC3 crossover is the frequency of the conversations about the Gods:

So yes, Nesta still has a huge arc coming up baby! She is not done. No one is done. But the Valkyrie are gearing up to play a major role in TotG, not the next ACOTAR. I believe this also grounds the continuation of the tension between Nesta and Rhys, and these two powers at odds when it comes to making decisions. Rhys will protect Prythian first. Nesta is building the bridges to other worlds, and is willing to fight alongside them. Rhys has no relationship with Bryce and Midgard. Nesta does. And lets not forget the Pegasi!

CC3 was not about Nesta. It was about Bryce and Nesta. Giving the Starsword back to Nesta is simply because that is who Bryce had a relationship with, and will continue to have a relationship with in the multiverse, not because Nesta is getting another book. Honestly- who else was she supposed to give the sword, Mask, and Truth-Teller back to? Twilight of the Gods will feature characters from all worlds. Sarah confirmed it will be emotional to write because of the old faces we'll see pop up in her Today Show interview here. This interview was thoroughly structured and planned, and released on the same day as HoFaS.

Speaking of the Starsword, let's talk Azriel and his role in CC3. Azriel is now the only person we have seen carry both the Starsword (likely Gwydion from here on out) and Truth-Teller. Light and dark. The power that combined to unleash the magic on Avallen, otherwise known as the Prison/Dusk Court in Prythian. Nesta has her own sword, Ataraxia. We have not seen Nesta touch, wield, or use Gwydion. Only Azriel has.

There is only one other character at home in Prythian who has also wielded and used the full power of one half of that pair of weapons: Elain.

Nesta used Truth-Teller to cut off the kings head, yes, but Elain used Truth-Teller to travel through the shadows across a battlefield with no experience and no training. She held that blade, and it worked to her will, tapping into its magic.

Azriel also learned about the corruption of the Cauldron. This was his primary experience in the crossover- discovering that the Asteri, who force mates and curate bloodlines to create powerful offspring which they then churn through a soul meat grinder for food warped the Cauldron to enact their will. Azriel did not form a relationship with Bryce, or Ember, or form any sort of additional connections to Midgard the way Nesta did. His part of the story revealed the problems at home. His (likely) love interest is the only person who has used his blade there, while Azriel is the only person who has used Gwydion. Bryce notes that Azriel must have some Starborn blood in him. Silene confirms that the Dusk Court can only be nurtured and looked after by Starborn heirs.

So while Nesta's compass in the crossover pointed to Midgard and her developing relationship with Bryce, as well as her clear willingness to work with her, Azriel's compass pointed home. It pointed to his lineage, to the corrupted Cauldron, to being one half of Gwydion and Truth-Teller combining, the Dusk Court. All of which points us to...

Yup. Elain.

If this STILL isn't enough for you, I have made a few additional posts regarding The Glass Coffin (aka Sleeping Beauty, which Bryce plays for Azriel in the HoFaS bonus chapter) and some, but not all of the little Elain coded details in HoFaS. You can find those posts here and here.

I could keep going forever. I can reiterate that there was not one but two ACOSF bonus chapters, and both were about Elain. I can talk about about the fact that SJM always planned to write a book about each sister, and ACOFAS was about- duh- each sister. But this is already so long and full of so many links and resources. The wrap up is this- ACOTAR is now an ongoing dual POV romance series. Until she tells us that is no longer true, it is true. A new couple each book. Nesta and the Valkyrie are key players in Twilight of the Gods. Sarah confirmed she was writing Crescent City and Twilight of the Gods at the same time. The multiverse is happening, and it just takes a little bit of exploration to understand where the characters are likely headed.

I'll end on this note. Azriel and Elain are light and dark. This belongs to them. The bridge of connection between them- Truth-Teller:

Now look at how the combination of the Starsword and Truth-Teller is described in HoFaS, and tell me if it looks familiar to you:

And now alllll together again, fam! Who are the only two characters who have properly wielded and/or tapped into the power of the Starsword and Truth-Teller in Prythian?

Azriel and Elain.

I think that's everything. I hope this comforts you. I genuinely don't ever feel worried or confused. It is all so clear to me how Sarah wove this together, and I think it's absolutely brilliant. Eep! I just get so excited! So take a little bit of my excitement and release the fear. Half of the people making content on this blatantly hate one half of the next book and they willfully ignore that she has had one of the most beautiful, breathtaking, well foreshadowed and woven storylines in the history of SJM's writing. Of course that is only my opinion, but honestly, how could you NOT be impressed and excited?!

I can't wait. I just can't heckin' wait.

If you got through all of this, wow. You're the real MVP.

[cellophaine]

Chapter V: BACKCOURT

Masterlist

Pairing: Art Donaldson x F!Reader

Warnings: Toxic family dynamic, toxic parents, mild abuse.

Author's Note: Woo this is a longer one (a little over 5k 😬). In this chapter, we dive deep into Reader's background to see how she became the way she is now. Art is not in this chapter much, but I promise he'll be back and his appearance will be delicious.

GIF Source: @/roranicuspond

2021. San Francisco.

4 AM. Two hours felt endless in your sleepless state. You sat up and, after a moment of contemplation, left the bed.

You settled on the couch with a glass of water and turned the TV on. Flipping through the channels, your eyes unfocused over the flashing images. A familiar face appeared for a brief second before vanishing. Your body went still, and your finger rested atop the forward button before reluctantly pressing backward. The image changed again, and Art's face filled your screen once more. His lips moved, but you didn't hear a thing. From the close-up, you could see the small changes in the face you had missed so much. His hair looked longer, and as he dipped his head slightly to hear the interviewer's question better, the movement pulled a strand of dirty blond out of the neat slicked back and drew it over his forehead. He looked much happier than you saw him last. You increased the volume to hear him better.

"I've been busy with the foundation. It's a lot of work, but I find it very fulfilling. I might be retired, but tennis is still an important part of my life, you know? And, of course, spending time with my family–"

The screen turned to black, leaving you to confront yourself. You stared at the empty screen, where Art was seconds ago, at your guilty conscience. After all that time, you were still stupefied at the mere sight of him. Your heart ached in your chest, and you felt a new kind of exhaustion taking over your body. Your loneliness crept along the edge of that guilt as you looked away from your own reflection. This empty apartment used to harbour the presence of another, but that was long gone. It took a while for this place to feel like it belonged to only you again.

A muffled sound of an incoming text came from the bedroom. You rose from the couch and went to retrieve it. The text was from your sister.

Call me when you can.

You opened her contact info and called. Two rings later, she picked up.

"Hey Soph. Is everything okay?"

"Everything is fine. Isn't it early for you?"

"It is, but I wasn't sleeping anyway. What's up?"

There was a brief silence on her end. You had a feeling what her call was about before she said it.

"Dad called me. He asked about you, and if you were planning on coming home this Thanksgiving this year."

"And?"

You could hear your sister's soft sigh on the other end.

"He wants to follow up with you on his cut from your second book."

The Dollhouse was partly autobiographical. It took inspiration from your childhood, grew a solid root and allowed the fictional elements to take shape and become the story it was. It spent ten consecutive weeks as number one on the New York Times best sellers list, but the aftermath dulled the achievement. Your parents picked it up, and so did some people they knew, and for a while after that, they sent you texts doused in anger and emails with thinly veiled threats. Most of them came from your dad, all of them explicitly expressed indignation and wrath, and none of them received a response from you.

"He's not getting a penny. The Dollhouse was fictional."

"I told him that, but he wouldn't listen."

"He can take it up to my lawyer."

After a moment, you asked.

"Did mom say anything?"

Your sister fell silent again. Before the release of The Dollhouse, things were already strained between you and your mom, and after, the contact slowed until it ceased to exist. You hadn't talked in a few years, and to you, it was for the best.

2006. Your hometown.

Despite school ending on the 16th, you booked the train ticket home for the 22nd. The early train was quiet as most people in this cabin retreated to their own bubbles. Some read, some slept, and some listened to music with their earbuds. The nerves in your lower abdomen seized, and all of a sudden, the cookie Grace made two days ago became so sickeningly sweet that you had to put it back in the wrapper. You sighed as you looked out into the passing scenery. Home had always been a tough subject for you, and it involved complicated feelings that you couldn't put into words. How could you confide in someone that the idea of going home filled you with a sense of dread?

Standing in front of the door to your childhood home, you took a deep breath and straightened your posture. You rang the doorbell and listened for its muffled echo from the inside. You could see that the TV was on from the bay window with the curtain swept to the side. Your dad was in his usual seat, watching a game. After a moment, you rang again. You watched as your father took a sip of his beer and placed the bottle back on the small table before reclining further into the chair. You heard hurried footsteps making their way to you, and the door opened to reveal Sophie. She excitedly called out your name and pulled you into a tight hug.

"I'm so happy you're here! How was your trip?"

"It was fine. How are you doing?"

"Hanging in there."

Your sister looked relieved now that you were here.

"How are … Mom and Dad?"

You asked, and Sophie caught onto the underlying message.

"Mom is grumpy because Dad's not helping. She's stressed out about the Christmas dinner. She hasn't decided on what to make for dessert."

"Oh, no."

Usually, by this time of Christmas, she already had a detailed plan for the big family dinner on the 25th, from appetizers to desserts to finger food before the dinner started. She prided herself on the Christmas feast, which was hosted by your family every year.

"Yep. Also, the tree hasn't been decorated."

"It's… the 22nd."

"I know. That's why Mom has been in rare form the whole week."

You grimaced. Your sister ran her hands up and down your arms reassuringly.

"You've got this. I'll be here with you."

You nodded, and the two of you headed inside. You dragged your suitcase with you as Sophie announced your arrival, but you were only met with silence. You stopped at the door to the kitchen and took in the chaos. Not a lot of free counter space was spared from the various pots and pans and unfinished dishes. Your mom was standing with her back to you, chopping vegetables and dropping them into the big pot.

"Hi, Mom."

She didn't turn around to acknowledge you, but she addressed you as she took a break from the vegetables to stir a smaller pot.

"I thought your exams were done on the 13th?"

"They were, Mom."

"Then why didn't you come home earlier?"

"I had work."

"I highly doubt that they were so busy that they needed you there."

"But … they were. It's Christmas."

"Almost Christmas. I don't see why you couldn't come home earlier and help me with the housework."

The enunciation in her words was hard to miss. She went back to the cutting board, her movement more precise now, and riddled with more force.

"I booked the train as soon as I was able to."

"My life would have been so much easier if you were a little more thoughtful than that."

"I'm sorry, Mom. I–"

She finally turned to look at you.

"Why are you still standing there? Put your suitcase away before someone trips on it and help me."

Sophie gave you a look of sympathy. You obeyed your mother's dismissal and took your suitcase upstairs to your old bedroom. Your parents made you repaint and fill in the screw marks before you left, and now it had turned into a workspace of some sort. On one side, there was a computer setup with a wooden cabinet filled with files, paper and books. The other side was your bed, with a blue sheet covering the whole bed. You pulled it off and found your old bed sheet, just like how you left it a few months ago. You wheeled the suitcase over to the old dresser, your eyes roaming over the fine layer of dust on its surface. You lowered yourself to the bed, allowing yourself a moment of seclusion away from your parents. You wanted to lay down, to close your eyes, and to escape for a while. Being here for less than ten minutes had left you with a taste of dejection. It'd started to gather in your throat, but you didn't want it to win. You were stronger than this. So you swallowed it down and buried it deep, putting on a smile before heading downstairs to join Sophie and your mother.

Your effort and helping hand in the kitchen didn't improve your mom's mood. She complained about your hair, telling you how much it irritated her eyes and making you put it up with a hair tie. She was there to criticize the ratio of the marinade and the meat, the way you prepared the rolls of grilled beef, and the piping on the cupcakes. It was exhausting, but you kept the smile on your face and did as she said. About two hours later, the fridge was filled with food and prepared ingredients for Christmas day. You went to the washroom to catch a quick break from your mother's nagging and checked your phone. There was a missed call, along with a text from Art.

I hope your trip home was good :). I wanted to call to see how you were doing.

– I'm home now. Sorry I couldn't talk. Maybe later?

He responded within the minute.

Promise?

– Promise.

A short while after that, dinner was served. The preparation was paused for the day. During dinner, you told your parents about Stanford. Your dad was silent for the most part, only responding with a grumble here and there. Your mom, on the other hand, was very inquisitive in a way that made dread grow in the pit of your stomach.

"Did you know you could also take English here? At Lawrence?"

"Yes, I know, but the program is so much better in Stanford."

"So you're telling me Lawrence is not good enough for you? I went to Lawrence."

"I'm not saying that, Mom. At Stanford, the program is really detailed, and they have so much more to offer."

Your dad decided to chime in.

"It's a useless degree anyway. You were born and raised here with English as your first language."

"There's so much more than that, Dad."

He snorted.

"So much more of my money. It's a waste."

"I promised you I'll pay you back. Besides, your money is for the rent for my first year, not tuition."

If it wasn't for the scholarship, you would have never left this place.

"If it wasn't for me, you wouldn't have a place to live."

Your father's friend from college owned the building, so you got the shared apartment at a much cheaper price. Your rent was covered by your dad since you didn't have a lot of money when you started college.

"No, I wouldn't have. I'm really grateful for your help."

"Thank you. Wasn't that so hard?"

Your sister tried to dissolve the tension in the air, and your parents went with it. The attention was taken off of your shoulders, and you were grateful for it.

/

You went to your sister's bedroom that night to catch up. You sat next to her on the bed while she lay down with her feet propped up against the wall. Grade 11 was proven to be dull and unexciting in the small town. The conversation eventually reared its head back to your parents.

"How do they treat you here?"

You asked, and Sophie sighed.

"They're not too awful most days."

She looked at you, and you could see the empathy in her eyes.

"I don't understand why they're so hard on you."

You shrugged, looking down at your socks.

"I do. Mom has said it so many times. I'm stubborn; I don't listen to them; I wasn't a good kid growing up …"

"So what? It doesn't mean they get to treat you like this."

"Maybe they do. They just want what's best for me."

"The way they show it is not okay. It shouldn't be like that."

A part of you wanted to agree. You wanted, so badly, to believe that you were a good person. Because a good person deserved good things. And if you were the person your parents had made you think you were, then you deserved nothing at all. You gave your sister a reassuring smile despite the doubt in your head.

"I know."

"I'm sorry. It's unfair."

You brushed it off.

"Don't apologize. It's not your fault that they prefer you to me. One of us has to be the favourite."

Sophie gave you an incredulous look, and you shared a laugh. You missed this, talking to your sister about anything. She turned to the side, facing you, and braced herself on her elbow.

"So, tell me about Stanford."

By the arch of her eyebrow, you could tell the conversation was going in the direction you weren't exactly thrilled about.

"It's … good. The campus looks nice, but the course work is a lot."

She rolled her eyes.

"That's not what I'm talking about. Has anyone caught your eye yet?"

Your mind went to Art, and you felt a gentle warmth that felt like a ray of sunshine enveloped your heart. You looked away from your sister briefly before uttering one single word.

"No."

Sophie sat up, pushing into your space.

"I can see right through you. You're such a terrible liar."

You kept your lips sealed.

"Come on, tell me."

There truly was no way of denying Sophie's pleading eyes, so you ended up telling her about Art after a few moments of resistance. You watched her expression change as you wrapped up the story.

"Is he your boyfriend now?"

You realized you had never had that talk.

"We … haven't talked about that yet."

"You obviously like him. Why haven't you asked?"

You shrugged noncomittally.

"I don't know. I think a label is unnecessary."

"What if someone swoops in and takes him from you?"

Sophie snapped her fingers, demonstrating the snatching of Art. You held out a hand.

"Okay, first of all, he's not an object that anyone can take. He doesn't belong to me and vice versa. Second of all, if he is so easily … taken away like that, then he never really likes me to begin with, and I'll be better off without him."

It was an upsetting thought, allowing a tendril of doubt to slither in. Sophie shook her head.

"I don't understand you."

"I just feel like we're not there yet, you know? Whenever I'm with him, I feel … seen. There's no expectation that I have to meet. That's enough for me."

"He'd better appreciate you. You're amazing."

You hugged your sister. She had always seen the best in you despite the doubts you had. You weren't entirely sure you were this amazing person your sister seemed to think you were. Breaking away from the hug, you said.

"Speaking of Art, I promised that I would call him earlier."

"Call him here."

"No."

You shook your head vehemently.

"I want to hear his voice at the very least. You don't even have a picture of him."

"No."

You jumped down from her bed, your finger pressed call on his number. Sophie blocked the door while the phone rang. To your luck, Art picked up after the third ring.

"Hey. I thought you wouldn't call."

Your sister squealed, and you had to put a hand over her mouth to keep her quiet.

"Who was that?"

You harshly whispered, asking Sophie to shut up. She enjoyed teasing you so much that she left an opening to the door. You slipped past her, but not before she sneaked the last words in.

"He sounds hot."

"Shush."

You held your phone against your chest as you went back to your room.

"Hey, sorry. That was my sister."

"Ahh. How many siblings do you have?"

"Just the one."

Art sounded sleepy on the other end.

"You sound tired."

"It's– uh … 2 AM here."

You remembered the time difference.

"Oh shit, I'm so sorry. It's only 11 PM where I am right now."

"That's okay. I like hearing your voice."

The honest confession sounded like a dream in the slow drawl of his words. Warmth dusted your cheeks, and at that moment, you wanted to ask Art to be exclusive with you. But it was a question better asked in person, you thought. So you held your tongue.

"I like hearing yours too."

His soft, drowsy sighs caressed your ear, and you couldn't contain your smile.

"But seriously, though, you should go to bed."

Art exhaled again, slow and languid, as if he didn't want the call to end. At last, he said with resignation.

"Alright, I'll talk to you later."

"Later. Good night, Art."

/

The next two days went by so quickly, with even more preparations and decorations for the 25th. Christmas Day finally came, burdened with anticipation. Uncle Eddie arrived with his wife, and Aunt Donna came by herself. The day was long, but it went by smoothly, and you hoped that it would stay like this for the rest of your time here.

Dinner came, everyone settled down, and the twenty questions game began with your uncle leading it.

"How's Stanford?"

"It's good. I'm really enjoying it."

"What is it that you're studying again?"

"English."

Aunt Donna chimed in.

"Oh. Aren't we all speaking English? Why are you taking it?"

"It's so much more than that. I'm learning the history of American literature, how it'll be shaped, and the cultural intersectionality in liberal arts. Uhm, to name a few."

Your dad decided to weigh in with his opinion.

"In other words, fancy school for useless things."

Uncle Eddie picked up from where he left off.

"What do you want to do after school?"

"I want to be a published author."

Your dad sneered.

"Great, another jobless career."

You were taken aback by your dad's downright brash statement, but you maintained the pleasant attitude you'd practiced.

"It'll be hard, but I want to do it. Or give it a try, at least."

"Writing books is not going to pay your bills. When you fail, you're going to run back here and ask me for more money."

"I'm not there yet, so we shall see, huh?"

Your father fixed his angry gaze on you. His nostrils flared, and you knew you had really pissed him off.

"You went to Stanford for one semester, and you already think you can talk back to your own father? You've forgotten your place. You can be ignorant now, but you'll see that I'm right. You'll regret not studying something that's actually useful."

"I'm not talking back to you. I just want to say that it's my life, and I should be able to live it the way I want to. And I'm very grateful that you even gave me the money for rent."

Your mom cut in.

"Grateful? You sure don't show it. And who do you think gave you that life? I did. I gave birth to you. You wouldn't be here arguing with the very people who care about you if it wasn't for me."

You had heard this argument before. Your mother continued.

"The least you can do is listen to me and take my goddamn advice so you won't end up a useless brat."

Sophie's timid voice pulled at the tension.

"Can we just get back–"

But your mother didn't allow her to finish.

"Do you know how much you cost? How much did we spend on your tutors? Private dance and piano lessons so you would have at least some skills for your future self, just for you to skip classes?"

You tried to defend yourself.

"I was 11. I didn't ask for any of it."

Your mom pressed on.

"Everything we've done is for you. But you never showed us gratitude, not even a thank you. And now, you're off to California on the way to a useless job. You will fail, and when you do, don't come to me or your father, for support."

"I will not ask you."

Your quick remark came with the bitterness that could burst at any moment, and you weren't sure if you could contain it.

"I will not take responsibilities for your failure."

At that, you lost it. Your composure, your calmness, your pleasant attitude. All were sucked out of your body, and the only thing left inside was the aggravated animosity. Its rot was spreading through you like wildfire, and you unleashed your anger. Your voice was booming, reverberating through the dining room.

"I'm not asking you to. I've never asked for any of this!"

"Shut up!"

Your dad roared. You barely dodged the gravy boat he threw at you. The ceramic bowl hit your shoulder, splashing what was left of the gravy onto your arm. The sauce wasn't as hot as it was ten minutes ago, only left a dull burn on your skin, soaking through the holes in your sweater. You sat still, not daring to move, as your body became paralyzed by what had just happened. Your sister immediately got up, only to be shut down by your dad.

"Sit down, Sophie! It's what she gets for being disrespectful."

Your mom added.

"Eat your food, Sophie. Let her think about what she's done. She's ruined dinner. She just had to make everything about her."

Aunt Donna patted your hand where the gravy didn't reach, a patronizing tone dripped in her voice.

"We're just very concerned about your future, dear. No need to yell."

Your mom and dad's voices started to blend together as they continued.

"When you crawl back from California because your dream doesn't work out, don't expect a penny from us."

"How is it that you find our life so beneath you?"

You stared at your plate, willing your tears not to fall. The conversation around you continued in apprehension, with everyone ignoring you. Your sister grabbed your hand under the table, giving it a reassuring squeeze. But you didn't have the strength to squeeze back.

You half listened to your surroundings as everything your parents said kept regurgitating like a fire alarm that wouldn't stop screeching long after the fire was gone. Your body went numb, and exhaustion draped over you like a weighted blanket. You only stood up after the adults had left the dining room with their dishes on the table, understandably for you to clean up. Sophie helped you with the task.

"Are you okay? Does it burn?"

You shook your head.

"I'll be fine. It's not that bad."

"It doesn't look fine."

You stopped dead in your movement, and without looking at your sister, you said.

"Sophie. I just want to do the dishes, and then head upstairs. Okay?"

"Okay. I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize. It's not your fault."

"You don't deserve it."

But what if you did? You received exactly what you needed, a punishment that reminded you of the facts: you were worthless, and your future was bleak and aimless. You avoided answering Sophie, instead directing all of your attention to the dirty dishes.

/

Later on that evening, after your aunt and uncle had left, you headed to the living room, where your parents were, with an envelope in hand. You held it out to them.

"Here's my actual gift for you."

Your dad reached for it without a word. He opened and counted the bills. Your mom got up and retrieved a familiar notebook before settling down next to your dad.

"$1,227."

Your mom wrote the number into the accounting book. After setting it aside, she stared at you for a long time before finally breaking the silence.

"You embarrassed us today."

"I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"For … talking back, and disrespecting you in front of aunt Donna and uncle Eddie."

Your mom thought about it for a moment. You hated this feeling. You knew she knew that she had the advantage, and she was making this as painful as possible.

"Hm. Have you learned nothing?"

"No, I have–"

"Do you know remember what I told you in high school? About our method of discipline?"

"Yes, I do."

"Remind me again?"

You swallowed thickly.

"You said– you said you stopped hitting me because … I was old enough to know better."

"Right. But it seems like you haven't learned anything. You still don't know better. You've always done whatever you want, you don't care about anyone, not even your own parents. Who took care of you whenever you were sick, huh? Who worked tirelessly so that you could have a roof over your head, clothes on your body, food in your stomach? And this is how you repay us?"

Your head dipped in shame.

"I'm sorry. I will do better. What can I do to show you that?"

Your dad hadn't said a word, but the disapproving glare he gave you said everything you already knew.

"You always say that you're sorry but nothing has ever changed. Get out of my sight. You're making my eyes itch."

You retreated to your room, and a moment later, Sophie knocked on your door. Her comforting presence was much needed as you drew into yourself on the bed and tried your hardest not to cry.

"I can't stay here."

"I can ask Shelly–"

You shook your head.

"No, they'll know. I can't stay here. I don't want to. I want to leave."

Sophie slid in next to you and pulled you into her arms.

"Okay, okay. I'll take you to the train station tomorrow."

After putting your clothes back into the suitcase, you sat there in your childhood bedroom, not knowing what else to do. You felt hollow, as if your insides were carved and gutted empty, and you were left with only this shell of a body. The skin where the gravy touched didn't throb as much anymore, leaving only a dull pain. Your heart was aching as if someone had taken hold and crushed it in between their palm. You wanted this feeling to go away, to disappear, so you could forget about it, so it would stop hurting. Overcame with the thought of needing some comfort, you didn't stop to think twice as you reached for your phone and dialled Art's number. You needed to hear his voice, to be reminded of what would be waiting for you when the next semester started. The ring went on and on, and when you thought he wouldn't pick up, he did. You sat up straighter.

"Art. Hi. Merry … Christmas."

The background on his end was noisy. You could hear his name being called.

"Merry Christmas."

It seemed like you had called him at the wrong time.

"Are you … are you at a party?"

"It's not really a party, just a get-together at my house. Patrick is here, and we're drinking this thing that we stole from my dad's liquor cabinet …"

He trailed off as a hiccup filled in the gap.

"It's making my head spin a little, I'm not gonna lie."

"Oh. I'm glad you're having fun."

Your voice dropped, and Art caught onto it even in his inebriated state.

"Are you okay? You sound … sad."

You didn't even realize how obvious it was, so you cleared your throat and responded in a more cheerful tone.

"I'm okay."

Art called your name softly.

"You don't sound okay. What's going on?"

"Nothing. I'm sorry for bothering you. Bye."

You hung up the phone. Seconds later, Art's call came by, and you watched as it rang and ended. Then, a text message came through.

I'm sorry, I'm a little tipsy to talk right now. I'll call you tomorrow.

You tucked your phone under the pillow, not wanting to look at it anymore. You tried to clear your head and think about something else. Still, your mind insisted on reliving the mistakes after mistakes you had made today. Exhaustion eventually took over, easing you into a fitful sleep.

/

You left without saying goodbye to your parents the next day. Sophie gave you a ride to the station, and by 5 PM, you were on the train back to Palo Alto. You received a call from Art. Just the sight of his name raised a storm of conflicting emotions in you, but the side that craved his affection overturned the other. You picked up after several rings.

"Hey. Sorry about last night. I didn't know my limit."

"That's okay. I shouldn't have called anyway."

"No, no, I'm glad you called. How was your Christmas?"

"It was fine. Are you preparing to go to the ski resort?"

You kept your voice level, hoping that you didn't give away anything like you did last night.

"Yep. We're heading there tomorrow."

The crackle of the announcement system broke out over your head, notifying you of your final stop. You were about to wish him a good trip, but Art spoke before you could get it out.

"Wait, where are you right now?"

You couldn't bring yourself to answer, but Art was determined to get it from you.

"Are you going back to Stanford?"

"Sorry, I have to go."

You ended the call. Almost immediately, Art's name appeared on the screen. You declined. Seconds later, he sent you a text.

Pick up. Please.

After shutting down his third call, you turned off your device. You went back to your apartment. It was empty. Your roommates wouldn't be here until school started, so you'd have the whole place to yourself. You felt an immense relief as you finally got to be alone, and you would be for at least another week. You didn't bother unpacking; instead, you headed for your room. After changing into something more comfortable, you crawled under the cover and pulled it to cover your head. Only then you allowed yourself to cry until you couldn't anymore, until the sobs that came out of you were reduced to soundless whimpers. Sleep came easier this time.

Likes, reblogs, and comments are greatly appreciated! I'd love to read your thoughts on the story!

For updates, please follow @cellophaine-archives