#9 years of dead from new york

[renegadesstuff]

“Be honest, when you vowed 'for better or for worse', you really had no idea what you.were agreeing to, did you?” 🤭

S7E22, “Dead From New York” aired 9 years ago (May 4, 2015) ❤️

[persevereforahappyending]

No Man's Land |2|

Pairing: Sam Carpenter x Reader

Summary: Sam can’t help but be drawn to the cute stranger from her gym, even if everything about them makes them the perfect suspect, just when Ghostface has returned.

Warnings: Talks of Murder and Killing

Word Count: 3k+

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11

Sam had her head thrown back, trying to calm her nerves as she and Tara waited for Detective Bailey to arrive. When Quinn called her father, he had said he wanted to speak with Sam. He wouldn’t confirm or deny whether the killings on the news were the work of Ghostface, but he wanted her to come down to the station. Tara had refused to let her go alone and Bailey even agreed that he’d like to see Tara as well. They arrived at the police station first thing in the morning and were immediately escorted to an interrogation room, without anyone telling them anything.

Sam finally looked up when she heard the door open, seeing Bailey enter. “Sorry about the wait,” Bailey said, giving them an awkward chuckle.

“What’s this about?” Tara asked, tapping her fingers on the table.

“The killings,” Sam cut in. “Was it Ghostface?”

“We found this,” Bailey said, tossing an evidence bag containing a bloody card onto the table, ignoring both the girls’ questions. “At the crime scene,” Bailey sat in the chair opposite of them. “In which two of your,” he pointed at Tara. “Classmates were murdered. Care to explain?” he shrugged.

Tara leaned forward, her eyes widening at what was in the baggy before she looked back at Sam. Sam furrowed her brow as she took a look as well, her face instantly going white at seeing her ID, covered in blood, and in the evidence bag. “I lost my ID months ago,” Sam mumbled, shaking her head. “I had to get a new one.”

“Why didn’t you report your ID as stolen?”

“I didn’t know it was stolen,” Sam glared at Bailey.

Sam didn’t know detective Bailey too well. She knew he was a homicide detective and when Quinn decided to go to college at Blackmore, he transferred to New York so he could keep an eye on her. Quinn complained about him occasionally, usually saying how overprotective he was, though he did allow Quinn to live on her own with Sam and Tara, even though it would be much cheaper for her to live with him. Bailey always seemed like the typical dad, but Sam wasn’t sure, she saw danger around every corner but the majority of the time it was just her being paranoid.

“Where were you last night?” Bailey asked, getting back to his questioning.

“You can’t seriously think she’s a suspect,” Tara said. “That’s ridiculous.”

“I’m just trying to figure out what happened,” Bailey held his hands up in defense. “Do you have an alibi?” He looked at Sam.

Sam sighed and ran a hand through her hair. “I was at work,” Sam answered. “Then when I came home Chad and I went to the gym, then back to the apartment.”

“And someone can verify this?”

“Lots of people probably,” Sam shrugged. “Your daughter being one of them, she was at the apartment last night.”

“It’s true,” Tara said, crossing her arms. “We were all with someone the entire day. Anything else?”

“Your classmates,” Bailey said, pointing at Tara. “Had a Ghostface shrine, it seems they killed their professor a Ms. Crane.” Tara sucked in a breath, Sam didn’t know her personally, but she had heard Tara and Mindy mention her a few times. “Earlier this evening. Know anything about that?”

“Why would we? I barely talked to them.”

“Are you familiar with a,” Bailey flipped open a file, squinting his eyes at something in the file, “Richie Kirsch?”

Sam couldn’t help the way she shifted in her seat, trying not to react. “He’s my ex,” she answered with a tight-lipped smile. “And he’s dead.”

“Yeah, he and my best friend tried to kill us last year,” Tara snapped. “What’s this got to do with anything?”

“Well, it seems these boys,” Bailey said, tapping his fingers on the photos of the two guys killed. “Intended to finish his movie.” Sam and Tara’s faces both fell at those words. “It seems they were working on a plan to kill you two.”

“We don’t know anything about that,” Sam said.

“Right, right,” Bailey mumbled to himself. “So, it’s just a coincidence these two boys end up dead?”

“There are no coincidences when Ghostface is involved.”

“Look,” Tara cut in, seeming frustrated and tired. “Are we under arrest or can we go?”

Bailey looked between the two sisters then down at the photos and evidence bag. Sam held her breath as she waited for his response. She wasn’t sure what was going through his mind, he still never confirmed if Ghostface was back, and she didn’t know if Bailey suspected her or thought she and Tara were in danger.

“You’re free to go,” Bailey said. “Just don’t leave town,” he gave Sam a look, like he knew she wanted to run.

Tara didn’t hesitate to get up, nearly knocking over her chair in the process. Sam gave Bailey one last glance before following after Tara. They flagged down a cab and Tara gave the guy directions to Blackmore. When Sam furrowed her brow Tara showed her Mindy’s text saying to meet at the school so they could go over suspects before class.

Before she knew it Sam had her head thrown back again, this time as she sat on a bench outside Blackmore College. Everyone was already there when Sam and Tara arrived and since then Mindy had been standing in front of everyone pacing back and forth. Sam just wanted her to get to the point already, she wanted to try and get some sleep before she had to go to work. She knew she wouldn’t get any sleep though; she wasn’t able to sleep last night and there was no way she’d be able to before her shift, not with Ghostface out there.

“Suspects!” Mindy said, finally seeming to get to the point. “With Ghostface, most likely, back we should go over potential people who might want to kill us! Because Bailey clearly won’t be of any help.”

Sam couldn’t help but glance at Quinn. The girl frowned at Mindy’s words but didn’t move to argue with her. Mindy also didn’t bother sparing Quinn a glance, let alone an apology. Sam couldn’t help but frown at Quinn’s reaction, or her lack of reaction. Detective Bailey was Quinn’s father, and she wasn’t saying anything to stick up for him or defend him. Sam wasn’t sure if that alone was suspicious or if Quinn just knew by now there was no point in arguing with Mindy.

“First!” Mindy continued, holding up a finger. “Ethan! The shy, dorky guy who no one suspects because he’s just so shy and dorky.”

“I’m a suspect because I’m randomly Chad’s roommate?” Ethan questioned, gesturing at Chad awkwardly.

“Roommate lotteries can be fixed,” Mindy rolled her eyes as if it was the easiest thing in the world to do. “And second, Quinn!” Mindy turned, smiling at Quinn. “Tara and Sam’s slutty roommate, a horror movie classic.”

“Sex positive,” Quinn corrected. Though she didn’t seem offended by Mindy’s accusation like Ethan had.

“How did you come to live with Sam and Tara?”

“I answered their ad online.”

“No need to say more, you’ve implicated yourself enough!”

“It was an anonymous ad,” Tara said. “And we vetted her.” Sam nodded, she had done incredibly thorough questioning to both Quinn and Bailey when they were interviewing potential roommates. “Plus, her dads a cop.”

“And that makes it more likely!” Mindy gestured wildly. “Cop dad is a great cover! Besides, what are the odds, your dad, would get this case?” Mindy crossed her arms, raising an eyebrow at Quinn.

“How the hell would I know?” Quinn crossed her arms, finally seeming to get annoyed by Mindy.

“And lastly, Anika,” she smiled at her girlfriend. “You aren’t clear either.”

Anika’s face fell. “Are you kidding me?” she asked.

“Sorry babe,” Mindy shrugged. Anika just scoffed, crossing her arms and turning her head away as she refused to look at Mindy.

“I think that’s all the suspects,” Mindy said, giving herself a little nod of approval.

“And Y/N,” Sam added. Everyone turned to her with raised eyebrows. “What?” Sam shoved her hands in her pockets. “I just think they should be on the list.”

“I thought you said you haven’t ever spoken to them?” Mindy narrowed her eyes.

“I haven’t.”

“Then why would they be a suspect?” Tara questioned, crossing her arms.

“Because we have the same schedule!” Sam tried to reason. “No matter when I go, no matter what day, or what time, they’re there.”

“Suspicious,” Mindy admitted. “Anything else?”

“They have fighting experience. Not sure how much but I’ve seen them train, they definitely know what they’re doing.”

Sam continued to ramble on about you. She told them once again about how similar your schedules seemed, even when it was well after midnight and there was no one else there you’d show up. She talked all about the kind of people you did talk to and how you were otherwise reserved. Then she got into your workout and mentioned how much you lift and how much you focus on either sparring with someone or hitting the punching bag. When Sam was finished revealing all her observations about you, she looked around at the others. Everyone was looking back at her with raised eyebrows, she was going to assume they were just shocked by her keen observation skills.

“They are pretty badass,” Chad added, holding a finger up. “I hate to admit it because they seem so cool,” he let out a little chuckle. “But the way they fought that dude in the ring,” he let out an impressed whistle. “I’d hate to see what they’d do to an enemy.”

Everyone’s face slowly morphed into one of worry. Ethan and Quinn gave each other a look of concern and Tara looked at Sam as if Sam would have a solution to their problem. Sam could only offer her sister a comforting smile, she didn’t know who this new Ghostface was, but she wouldn’t let him hurt Tara.

“Okay, we’ll add them to the list,” Mindy agreed.

Sam nodded. A part of her felt a little guilty for suspecting you of such heinous things when you’ve only ever been nice, but she couldn’t take the risk. She dated Richie for months and he betrayed and used her, she hadn’t even spoken a single word to you. Sam didn’t have a real reason to suspect you, besides the fact that you went to the same gym, which a lot of people went to, but none of them had even close to the same random schedule she did, and she had never seen any of them fight like you could. She hoped you were just the cute stranger from her gym though, and not some psychopath. But she knew her life, there was no way her first crush since Richie was just a normal person that went to her gym, and all the other stuff, the stuff that drew her to you, was just coincidence, she wasn’t that lucky.

After being satisfied with their suspect list everyone went their separate ways with most of them going to class, while Sam went to work. Sam managed to get home and change but didn’t have time for a nap before having to head to her job. She managed to make it to the diner she worked at, just before she had to clock in.

Sam tried to focus on work and not let her mind wander to Ghostface and what was happening. She ignored the way people kept glancing at her, she ignored the articles she saw on their phones when she came to fill their coffee cups, she ignored the way customers bumped into her, spilling their milkshakes, ketchup, and syrup all over her. She ignored it all, she put on her fake smile and apologized to the next person who bumped into her.

Sam glanced at her phone every time she had a spare moment, when she knew, she wouldn’t get caught by her boss. She ordered everyone to text her throughout the day, so she’d know they were okay. She ordered her sister though to text her every fifteen minutes, Tara had rolled her eyes, but she had been doing it, if Sam didn’t hear from Tara within the time frame she would try calling first and then head off to wherever Tara was supposed to be.

When Sam’s shift finally finished, she rushed home, ignoring the way everyone was lounging in the living room once again as she ran to her bedroom. She didn’t have long before she needed to be at her therapy appointment, and she needed to shower and change first. She moved as quick as she could, showering long enough to get rid of the diner smell but not long enough to actually enjoy having the water rain down on her.

“I have therapy tonight,” Sam said as she rushed around the living room, ignoring her still damp hair. “I’ll be back later.” Tara nodded. “Be careful, stay inside, and don’t unlock the door for anyone.” Sam gave all of them a pointed look.

“We know,” Tara sighed. “You be careful too,” she whispered.

Sam smiled at her sister, giving everyone a quick wave goodbye before making her way out the door. She made sure to lock all the locks and double check herself before walking down the stairs. Her neighbor Danny offered her a kind smile, holding the door open for her as he was coming, and she was going. Sam did a quick check of her surroundings before shoving her hands in her pocket and began making her way to her therapy appointment.

Before Sam knew it, she was sitting in her therapist’s office, pulling at her sweater as she refused to look her therapist in the eye. She hadn’t been seeing the woman very long, she was seeing a guy for a while but when he learned her dad was Billy Loomis, he basically stopped being helpful. When Sam found Doctor Williams, Sam had started the first session by telling her all about her father, if this therapist wasn’t going to be helpful either Sam figured she might as well figure it out right away instead of wasting all her time and money.

“We’ve been sitting in silence for twenty minutes,” Doctor Williams said, not looking up from her notepad as she continued to write something down. Sam wasn’t sure what the doctor could be writing considering she had yet to speak. “Your session is only an hour long, if you want to talk,” she glanced at her watch. “You might want to think about starting soon.”

Sam frowned and flicked a glare at Williams. “I met someone,” Sam said, breaking the ice.

“That’s good,” Williams smiled, setting down her notepad and pen. “How has that been?”

“Well, I haven’t exactly talked to them yet.”

“How-How does that work?” Williams furrowed her brow.

“We go to the same gym,” Sam nodded along with her words. She was sure this was probably making her sound even crazier than she already seemed. “We’ve shared looks and a few nods,” Sam smiled to herself

She didn’t miss the small smile still on Williams’s face. “And what’s stopping you from talking to them?”

Sam’s eyes drifted down to the carpet, she pursed her lips, nodding to herself. “I think someone is trying to kill me and my sister again.” She looked up to see William’s staring at her with wide eyes. “And they’re on the suspect list,” Sam gave a little shrug.

Williams opened and closed her mouth a few times, clearly trying to process her words. “You think the person you like is trying to kill you?” Williams said slowly.

“Well, not just them, everyone’s a suspect.” Williams nodded unsurely. “I’m not being paranoid,” Sam tried to assure. “At least I don’t think I am,” she shook her head. “Tara always says I’m too paranoid but this time there’s a legitimate reason.”

Sam’s words slowly died down as Doctor Williams raised her hand. “Let’s start from the beginning,” Williams said softly.

Sam swallowed, ringing her hands as she tried to calm her nerves. “There was a murder last night. Two boys in Tara’s class killed their professor.” Williams furrowed her brow. “Then someone murdered them in their apartment.” Williams opened her mouth, but Sam wasn’t done yet. “There’s no proof, but the killings might have been committed by Ghostface.”

“And what makes you think this is Ghostface? Are you sure he’s not just on your mind, it’s around that time of year, no?”

Sam clenched her hands together. “The two students, they were fanatics,” she rolled her eyes. “Fans of Richie apparently. They were planning on killing me and my sister, but someone killed them first.”

“And you think that someone is Ghostface?”

Sam nodded. “Ghostface would never let two kids,” she scoffed. “Take out me and my sister. Not that they could,” she ran a hand through her hair.

Before Doctor Williams could say anything else the timer went off, signaling the end of their session. “See, you next week, I guess.” Sam gave a shy smile as she got up from the couch.

“Wait, I don’t want you to do anything rash,” Williams rushed, following behind her but Sam was already out the door.

Sam checked her surroundings once again as she exited the building. She began her walk back to the apartment. When she got back to the apartment, she saw everyone still in the living room. “We got pizza,” Tara said, nodding to the box on the table. Sam snapped a glare at her sister as she dropped her keys into the bowl by the door. “Anika went to pick it up,” Tara held up her hands, but Sam didn’t miss the eyeroll.

Sam sighed, shaking her head at her sister as she made her way to her room. She got ready for bed, but her mind wouldn’t stop. She kept thinking about the killings, about Ghostface potentially being back, and who they could trust.

Taglist: @thatshyboy1998

[just-dreaming-marvel]

Love That Burns ~ 9

LOVE THAT BURNS MASTERLIST

< previous chapter

Word Count: 2,215ish

Summary: After being at the mansion for 22 years, your world gets turned upside down.

Warnings: person believed to be dead is not dead, passing out, tears

Notes: Y'all it's gonna be angst with brief spurts of fluff for a hot minute. Good luck. Reminder: I DO NOT do taglists. Please don’t ask. Please follow and interact! I appreciate any reblogs, likes, comments, and asks! 

As the years went on, students came and went. The three that you now considered your family each went off to college when it was time. They all ended up back at the mansion eventually, to teach and be official X-Men members. You watched as Scott and Jean fell in love and began a relationship. You watched as Ororo became an amazing teacher. 

Charles watched you carefully throughout the years. He had seen glimpses of what you had gone through, but you never fully opened up to anyone. He was glad that you stayed though, making a positive impact on the students, especially the three that ended up staying on as teachers. Charles watched as you held your dog tags during the hard moments and let your smile free during the good times. He could see that you were healing from your past. It was slow, but it was there.

Winter had decided upon New York, which meant that those in the mansion annoying decided to need your abilities more. It was easier for you to light on the fires in the mansion than for everyone to try and do it themselves. It became another job of yours. Some days you didn’t mind and other days you found it annoying. Today was one of those days you found it annoying. Mostly because Jean was following you around.

“Come on, Y/N,” she pled. “Just one night. One! Scott, Ororo, and I will even come with you.”

“I am not going to singles night at the local bar,” you told her, lighting another fireplace as you walked by. “Besides, you and Scott going is ridiculous.”

“In all the time I’ve known you, which is twenty two years by the way, you’ve never once gone on a date.”

“Don’t want to.”

“You’re almost 71, Y/N, and you barely look at day over thirty! You need to go out and live a little!”

“I have lived, Jean. I’ve also have loved and I’m good to not do it again.”

“Oh, yes, your mysterious long-lost love. You know that I could slip into your mind and find out all about him.”

“No need. He’s dead.”

“Then it’s time to move on!”

“Jean—“

“Just think about it, please? For me?”

“No.”

“Fine. I guess I’ll figure out another way to get you out of this dusty old mansion.”

“I leave the mansion all the time.”

“Not for fun.”

“Missions are fun.”

“Really? Cause I think I remember you complaining about the last one.”

You remained silent, heading to the main common living room to light the large fireplace. Once it was lit, you stared at the flames, making them dance. 

Jean sighed. “I’m sorry, okay? I just want you to be happy. I’m worried about you.”

“I am happy,” you replied, forcing out a small smile.

She gave you an unconvinced look. “Are you? You’ve basically been doing the same thing for twenty-two years. Don’t you want to… I don’t know, change it up?”

“I’m content, Jean.”

“Do you really not want more to your life? Maybe there another chance at love out there, just waiting for you… I just want you to not be alone.”

“I’m not alone.”

“For now.”

“Thanks for this rousing pep talk, Jean. Very helpful.” You turned and headed out.

“Y/N! I’m sorry!”

You were grateful that Jean didn’t follow you. You knew she meant well, but you didn’t want to find another love. You had a great love with James and believed that nothing could compare.

~~~

A few hours later, Charles called you, Scott, Jean and Ororo into his office.

“There’s two mutants that need our help,” Charles stated. “I need two of you to go and retrieve them.”

“I’ll go,” Scott said.

“Me, too,” you offered.

“Actually, Y/N, I need you here,” Charles said.

Your brows furrowed in confusion. “What for?”

“To prepare the lab.”

“The lab?” You weren’t buying it. “What’s going on?”

“I simply need you here.”

“You’re lying.”

“Y/N—“

“What are you keeping from me, Charles?”

“Please just trust me on this. For now.”

“Fine.” You turned and left.

Charles sighed. “This is to protect her,” he explained to the others. “Someone is coming that will ruin the peace she has found here.”

“What do you mean, Professor?” Ororo asked.

“Someone from her past. Someone she believes is dead. I even believed him to be dead until today.”

“I’ll keep an eye out on Y/N,” Jean said.

Charles nodded. “Ororo?”

“I’ll go with Scott,” she responded.

“Thank you. We must work together to be there for Y/N as her life is about to get turned upside down.”

~~~

You felt like you were being sidelined and you hated it. You could handle whatever was coming that Charles felt like you couldn’t. After you had prepared the lab, you waited in the hangar bay for Scott and Ororo to returned. It wasn’t long before Jean joined you.

“I know that you’re babysitting me,” you grumbled, keeping your eyes on the large doors above. “Why?”

“Someone is coming,” Jean stated, like it was that simple. 

Your head snapped towards Jean. “Who?”

“I don’t know. Charles just said that someone was coming. And that he’s from your past.”

Your heart began hammering in your chest. Who could possibly be coming? You jumped as the large hangar doors began opening above you. The jet descended and the ramp opened up. You watched as Ororo led a young woman off of the jet. Scott wasn’t too far behind, pushing a body laid out on the stretcher. As soon as you caught a glimpse of the body, it felt like your lungs stopped working.

He looked mostly the same as twenty-two years ago, except his hair was styled a bit differently and his facial hair was a bit more scruffy looking. You stumbled closer to try and get a better look. Scott stopped the stretcher as he watched you with growing concern.

“James?” You breathed out.

Before you could get any closer—before you could touch him, your body gave out and you collapsed onto the floor.

“Y/N!” Your friends exclaimed.

Jean rushed towards you, checking you over. “She’s unconscious,” she stated. 

“She knows him?” Scott wondered.

Charles rolled into the room. “This is who I was talking about,” he said. “Scott, take Y/N to her room. Jean can handle Logan.”

Scott came over and lifted you, carefully carrying you out of the hangar.

“Do you know who he is to her, Professor?” Jean asked, studying the stranger.

“I do,” he responded. “But it’s not my place and it is not your place to pry in either of their thoughts. All you will find is pain.”

“Pain? Should we be concerned? Should we even be letting this man into the mansion?”

“Logan belongs here, just as the rest of us do. Y/N and Logan will have to deal with their past, in their own ways and time.”

~~~

You woke up in your room, alone. For a brief moment, you forgot what put you there. Then it hit you like a freight train.

James was alive.

Twenty-two years of believing that he was dead was all a lie.

Guilt wracked you. You should have fought harder to leave the school. You should have searched for him.

Had James been searching for you this entire time?

What had he been through?

Sitting up, you got out of bed and headed down the hall. You needed to talk to Charles. He had known something about James this morning and you needed the truth. As you headed down downstairs, you were too caught up in your own mind to notice anything. Suddenly, you rammed into someone, their hands going to your arms to steady you.

“Watch where you’re going, sweetheart.”

You gasped, eyes snapping up to James’ face. “James,” you breathed out.

His brows furrowed in confusion. “James? I think you got me confused with someone else.” His hands dropped from your arms and he began to frantically looked around. Almost like he was hearing something that you weren’t. “I’ve got to go.” He was gone before you could stop him.

You swear your heart could be heard shattering to the floor from miles away. Tears overwhelmed your eyes as your legs threatened to collapse beneath you. Before you could fall, Ororo’s arm was around your waist, keeping you up.

“I’ve got you,” she whispered.

“Please tell me this is a dream,” you begged. “This is a nightmare, right?”

Ororo shook her head, looking at you with concern. “You’re very much awake.”

You couldn’t prevent the sobs from ripping through you. Ororo was quick to pull you completely into her and hold you close. She rubbed a hand up and down your back, trying to calm you.

“What’s going on?” Scott’s voice sounded from behind you.

You pulled away from Ororo, quickly wiping at your face and taking deep breaths.

“I’m fine,” you said, but it was clearly not believable.

“Y/N—“

“Drop it, Scott.”

Scott clenched his jaw, frustrated with you. “The Professor wants us in his office.”

You nodded silently. Jean walked up and could sense the unease. She shot you a smile before she lead you to the Professor’s office with Ororo and Scott leading the way. You could hear James on the other side of the door before Ororo opened it.

“Ah, Logan, I’d like you to meet Ororo Monroe, also called Storm,” Charles introduced as Ororo walked in with Scott right behind her. “This is Scott Summers, also called Cyclops. They saved your life.” Jean led you in with her. “I believe you’ve already met Dr. Jean Grey.” As if this situation couldn’t get any worse, you immediately noticed the way James was checking out Jean. “And this is Y/N L/N, also called Ember.” 

Jean lead you past James—Logan— guiding you to a chair. Your eyes stayed on Logan. He was wearing sweatpants and a zip-up sweatshirt, revealing part of his chest and the dog tags that rested there. Your heart stopped for a moment when you noticed that your engagement ring was hanging next to the dog tags.

“You’re in my school for the gifted,” Charles continued. “For mutants. You’ll be safe here from Magneto.”

“What’s a magneto?” Logan asked. His eyes darted towards you, an uneasiness settles in his stomach. There was something about you. Something he couldn’t quite place.

“A very powerful mutant, who believes a war is brewing between mutants and the rest of humanity. I’ve been following his activities for some time. The man who attacked you is an associate of his called, Sabretooth.”

“Sabretooth?” Logan scoffed. “Storm…” He pointed at her, clicking his tongue. “What do they call you? Wheels?” He laughed. “This is the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.” He turned towards the doorway, only for Scott to be in his way. “And Cyclops, right?” He grabbed Scott’s jacket. “You wanna get outta my way?”

“Logan, it’s been almost twenty-two years, hasn’t it?” James paused. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed you tense. “Living from day to day, moving from place to place,” James dropped his grip on Scott, “with no memory of who or what you are.”

Logan turned, “shut up.”

“Give me a chance. I may be able to help you find some answers.”

Logan could hear your heartbeat pick up, like you knew something. He turned, narrowing his eyes at you. You immediately looked like you wanted to be anywhere else. “What do you know?”

“I— I—,” you stammered, trying to gain control of your spiraling thoughts. You stood up. “I’ve got to go.” Logan grabbed your wrist as you pushed past him. You were quick to heat up your skin, causing him to let go.

“Ah!” Logan exclaimed, shaking his hand as it healed from the burns.

“You’re not the only one with gifts,” Charles said with a smirk as you disappeared from Logan’s view.

~~~

Charles led Logan on a tour of the mansion, with you trying to go about your regularly scheduled day. But, for some reason, James—Logan, was always nearby. You could feel his eyes on you when you weren’t looking and you were fairly sure that he could feel your eyes just the same. You were in the stables, trying to get away from Logan, when Charles led him in there.

“I’ll make a deal with you,” Charles told Logan. “Give me 48 hours to find out what Magneto wants with you, and I give you my word that I will use all my power to help you piece together what you’ve lost, and what you’re looking for.”

Logan glanced up at you, briefly making eye contact before you scurried away. “That… girl,” Logan said, pointing to where you were standing. “Who is she?”

Charles gave Logan a kind smile. “Y/N is very much a woman, Logan. Don’t let looks deceive you.”

“Yes, but… there’s something about her. Something… familiar…” He stopped himself, shaking his head. “I think I must’ve hit my head too hard.”

“You should rest more. Your abilities may heal you, but that doesn’t mean you don’t need rest.”

“You’ve got 48 hours. Then I want the help you promised.”

next chapter >

[junedenim]

it's three in the morning

for the long haul

warnings: piv, eating, pregnancy piv, mild dad!alex, and probably some other stuff too

word count: 8.8k

There was an attitude when you first met that you each would hold a sense of permanence in each other's lives. It wasn't completely romantic at first. You and Alex met through a series of shared friends.

This was 2013 and you were both otherwise occupied with separate relationships. His was longer and much more stable. Yours was a short passionate fury that ended by early 2014. Coincidentally, as did his.

But still, it wasn't a direct rebound. He was touring and when the band stopped in New York—your home at the time—you stuck around at the after-party with Alex. Nothing much happened there other than a questionable conversation three rounds in.

"It's all speeding up," he said. It was drunk talk and you weren't paying attention to the idea he had spoken before it but you tried your best to follow after. His body came closer and huddled so close to yours, which was excusable in the February chill, but debatable with the indoor heating.

He slung an arm over your shoulder and, with great camaraderie, you slid your arm behind his back; a "friendly" side hug. "Time is weird," you said.

Alex looked at you. His eyes were alcohol-glazy but his soul was bursting to say something. You could both feel the unsaid left lingering and his head moved forward at one point as if he were going to kiss you but it was then decided he would hesitate on that front.

He chuckled through his nose as if some joke had been made before turning his head to look at the buzzing partiers. He nodded at something and you weren't sure if it was related to your statement or not. You took another sip of your vodka Coke and he said, "Timing is everything."

He slipped away from you after that and it's possible he slept with someone else that night but you aren't sure. You don't even know if he would remember. He slept with a lot of people in 2014. It was a messy time.

Later in the year, toward the end of July, he called you from Iowa. Despite the hour, somewhere in the early morning, neither of you was drunk. Alex's sleep schedule had little idea of the concept of time with the mad case of severe jet lag he could be diagnosed with and you, well, you were asleep but you acted like it was normal for him to wake you up at 3 AM.

"Where in Iowa are you from?" He asked. Neither of you had really gotten to know one another. Not those small details. You knew he was from Sheffield but you don't know what college he went to or his parents' names or if he's ever broken a bone. Your relationship had never been built on knowing each other. It was always just about feeling each other. You had always gotten on well, never fought, always laughed, slung arms around one another, and thought about the maybes.

"Why do you ask?" You laughed at the idea of him calling you in the dead of night, sitting outside his tour bus, smoking a cigarette, talking about your tiny hometown.

"We're playing there tomorrow. Council Bluffs or something. You're the only person I know from Iowa." You told him that the first night you met and he latched onto it like it was some lie you told to impress people because people are usually so impressed with the concept of being a Hawkeye. Although, he never got more information about it. He didn't know that you grew up on a corn farm and you learned how to drive your dad's truck at 9 years old.

You scoffed, "Council Bluffs. You might as well just be in Nebraska."

He chuckled. "Sorry. I'll plan it out better for you next time."

"I'm from Beaman. It's close to the center. Very small town," you told him. "But there's a library and a basketball court that becomes an ice skating rink in the winter. It was dull but I liked it."

"Sounds like a nice place to grow up." You shrugged, not that he'd be able to see it. An air of silence hung over the conversation and you're not sure if he was waiting for you to say something in return. And then he suddenly said, "I've been thinking about you. Not just in Iowa."

You weren't sure what that meant. He was still so new to you and a one-on-one phone call had never been done before. You couldn't yet tell what he was trying to convey through the tone of his voice if this was some playful thing, a joke or something serious, a flirtation. "Why?" You questioned.

It was silent and you imagined him shrugging but you'd never know for sure if he did or not. Eventually, he answered, "Guess I just missed you. Is that allowed?" It was rolled in humour and tucked in a laugh so you took it as a joking sweetness. Some sense of sincerity lingered but it wasn't packed with desperation.

So, you told him you missed him too and hopefully you'd hang out again soon. The conversation ended and soon wasn't around the corner. You kept in touch, by text and through friends, but he didn't return from the road until November and you weren't yet one of the people he would hang out with as soon as he was back, especially since you were in New York and he was in LA when he wasn't on the other side of the pond.

But then you moved to LA, right at the beginning of 2015. Truthfully, it was for your boyfriend. It was an awful idea and you knew it. You had only been dating the guy for a few months and retrospectively it was never serious but in the moment fantasy and blurred visions came to mind and they took the wheel from you. Besides, you had a career that you could do anywhere, most of your friends were in LA, and there was, of course, Alex.

At a shared friend's birthday party, you saw Alex again through a barrier of smoke. Your boyfriend was off in the bathroom and Alex was pushing himself off the wall with a drunken stumble and throwing his arms around you.

"Huck told me you'd be here. Told me you're out in LA. How come you didn't tell me?" His words were rolling out of him quickly with little care where they ended up.

You did your best to reciprocate the hug and follow his sloppy manner as he leaned back against the wall. You stirred your gin & tonic with the flick of your wrist, still sober having just arrived. "It's all been hectic. We're just starting to settle out here."

His eyes drifted away, looking behind you, and when the cold hand touched your back you realized what he was looking at. "Yeah, well, once you are, we should get together or something. Alex, by the way." He waved to your boyfriend, staying against the wall this time. He looked like he was having trouble keeping his eyes open but his speech was clear with no slurring sounded.

You put your arm around your boyfriend's back, returning his hold. "I'd like that. We'll probably have some housewarming party at some point so..."

Alex hummed his acknowledgment like words were becoming too much work. He brought the spliff to his lips and the smell of marijuana began to give you a headache and a craving at the same time. Someone tapped him on the shoulder, pulling him away from you. It took a moment of staring before you moved to find residency on the couch, but more lingered in the air than just the smell of weed. Uncertainty persisted.

A month later, the house had been settled and a housewarming party occurred but Alex didn't attend. He had said he was out of town but you're not sure where out of town. It didn't matter much. You didn't live in that house for very long.

It would seem like fate stepped in at some point or a mere happenstance that the night you and your boyfriend broke up everyone in the world seemed to be busy. Friends were away for the weekend or had guests staying with them or simply didn't pick up their phones at 2 AM. But Alex did.

When you arrived at his house, he was peculiarly waiting in his driveway. His hands were on his hips and his head cocked in a way that some might interpret as pissed but you knew it was just his resting position.

Your unaffected nature could also be misinterpreted. You didn't feel the urge to cry, and though you were upset at the demise of a loving relationship, it didn't provoke your tear ducts and you remained indifferent.

After exiting your car, he asked, "Are you okay?"

And it was easy to nod and answer, "Truthfully, yes." It's probably easier to feel this way when you are the one who initiated the break-up.

It's also easy to feel that way when instead of going to bed you're accompanied by Alex and drinks. No rejection was involved when downing a bottle of hard liquor, especially when Alex seemed to have it stockpiled. You both operated better drunk, which could have been alarming to an outsider, but for you and Alex it was understandable. It wasn't used as coping, each other was used for that. The alcohol was just an additional treat.

"It's hard to not feel like I'm wasting away my youth," you told him, leaning your head on the back of the couch.

He was on the opposite end, cigarette stuck in his mouth as he spoke, "You're still young."

"Not forever," you lamented. "I guess that's the thing. I'm not particularly pissed it's over. I think I did us both a favour but I'm pissed about running out of time for these things. I mean, I moved across the country for this guy. I used to have fun with guys! Now I'm just following them places and desperately trying to play the role of wife. Like, who am I?"

Alex openly laughed in response.

You giggled in return, "Don't laugh at me."

He shook his head, removing smoke and cigarette from his lips. "I think you're getting worked up over nothing."

"Maybe." You shrugged. "But I don't think so. I don't know what I'm saying. Wait, yes, I do." Alex laughed again. "I'm saying I want to have fun again."

"Right." He nods.

His eyes locked with yours and once his cigarette was stubbed out and the bottle you had been clutching was placed down on the coffee table, his lips then locked with yours. It was harsh and rough like every drunk kiss that had occurred before in history.

It must have been around 4 AM at this point and everything felt hungry. Like this was—he was—your midnight snack. This is when desperation occurs. The quick need for satisfaction with no care about the journey to get there.

Alex's arms clutched around your lower back up to your shoulder blades, pulling you on top of him. Her hands grasped around the endpoints of his sharp jaw making it impossible to be stuck in a heated makeout. You straddled him but it was hard (in two ways) to not feel frustrated quickly.

You reached down, swiping your hands along his chest, and landing on the button of his jeans. Everything must come undone and he understood that perfectly. You didn't even bother to pull his zipper down, instead reaching your hand into his underwear and letting the force drag the zipper apart.

He pulled your hand out just so you could get your top off of you and while your arms were up in the air, you grind on him and soft moans escaped, swallowing it up when your lips reunited. He was a master at unclasping a bra and had easy access to your pussy through your small skirt made up of flowy material.

Your hand made small movements around his cock and his fingers grazed through your folds and he seemed to want to do a version of shared masturbation but you ached for something stronger. You lifted yourself off of him to remove your skirt and panties. He shuffled just enough to kick his jeans and underwear off the bottom of his feet. You finished reaching nudity at the same time.

Alex didn't allow you to straddle him again, pushing you onto your back as he took off his shirt. His nude body hovered over you and the back of your head hit the arm of the couch. You curled your legs around him, pushing his hips toward yours. Everything is non-verbal, all performed through signs. You've always been on the same wavelength and it feels like words would have ruined this and made this all seem questionable.

He quit the foreplay of kissing your neck and pinching your breasts and became rough like this is what you wanted, now shut up and take it. He was in you and on top of you and it's exactly what you wanted: fun. He could be described as a pleasurable jackhammer as he moved in and out of you. Everything was hard and skin was slapping but you're both moaning and none of it was silent whimpers. It was shouts of "Fuck!" and "Harder!" and "Holy shit!" and "Right there!"

It's all responded to correctly. You nipped at his neck and toward the end, he reached down to rub your clit. It's all masterfully done on both of your parts. Your walls clenched around his dick and he stretched you open to a degree that has you grasping at the couch cushions until you've come. Then, he pulled out of you, letting it all go, straight onto your stomach.

Exhaustion and complete silence fell. Alex laid back on his side of the couch, panting. A few breaths passed before he rose and grabbed a rag from the kitchen, wiping his cum off you.

"Is that your cum towel?" You joked.

His face broke a smirk and he nodded. A question hung in the air of what to do next, stuck in the middle of his hot living room. He towered over you as you sat up, slowly adjusting. He folded the rag up in his hand and then asked, "You wanna use it again?"

Laughter erupted from you but you did end up using it again the next time in his bedroom, which allowed comfort and greater sensuality. It was less rushed but left you both exhausted by the end of it. You slept like rag dolls, limbs hanging over one another, and powerful sleep.

In the morning (or afternoon, you're unsure), with your bodies connected, you both awoke around the same time, blinking away sleep and finding his eyes doing the same. Your unsaid nature returned and you weren't sure if you should even leave the bed or if you should be racing out the front door.

"Thanks for letting me stay," you whispered with tired vocal chords.

He shuffled closer, sheets rustling, and licking away sleep. "Course," he croaked. "You could stay forever."

It might have meant more, especially after fucking each other, but it felt more like a favour than a request. You ate breakfast together before you left, no goodbye kisses, and he said goodbye at the door instead of walking you to your car. Two weeks later, he joined you and a group of friends for drinks where you shared light small talk and he bought a round. You left for New York two days later with no acknowledgment of anything more. It just was what it was and neither of you was hurt by that, but both of you still felt longing for it to be otherwise.

In the heat of summer, you visited LA and met up with Alex for dinner. The LA visit was more for business but you decided to sort out the personal while you're there. His hair was longer, cut around the ears, no longer greased back. It's a reminder of that morning when everything was thrown about without care. He was dressed in a white button-down that was unbuttoned enough to have a clear view of the chain that hung around his neck and his seductiveness was so clear you have a hard time believing he didn't know exactly how this night was going to end.

There was small talk but Alex was quick to cut through the bullshit and get to the heart of things. "We've never had dinner together before," he said. "Not just the two of us." A smirk played on his face and lewd images flashed in your mind.

You sipped your wine as a coping mechanism and leaned back in your chair. You needed to be far from him, at least for now. Playing it cool was the main goal. "Are you telling me you don't want to hang out with me?"

"Oh, I want to hang out with you but I was thinking of something much different."

Intentions were clear and things were laid out on the table so when he invited you back to his house for drinks, you had no issue with him stopping in an abandoned parking lot so you could fuck each other.

Because fucking was easy and you always felt things together instead of knowing things together. So, when he takes you in the backseat, confined, and hot & heavy, it feels romantic for something usually so drenched in the word "dirty."

The leather seats stick against your sweaty back while he undoes his belt and then his trousers before sliding your underwear aside and going into you. The AC is blasting but you don't feel it and there's a lightheaded feeling likely from wine and dehydration but you blame the way his cock hits that spot in you.

The rest of the drive isn't awkward and that's when things started to feel different. It became clear that the sense of permanence with one another wasn't a platonic coincidence of sharing friends but something much more loving. You laughed that his car radio was stuck on the sports channel and made fun of the baseball announcers shouting over the Dodgers losing to the Phillies.

Before this shift, you expected to continue your intense rush to instant passion; fucking in the hallway, fucking in the living room, fucking in the kitchen, fucking on the bathroom floor, fucking in the shower, fucking in his bed, fucking against a wall, fucking on the washing machine, fucking on the ceiling if you could. Instead, you watched the rest of the Dodgers v. Phillies game, despite knowing little about baseball and Alex's knowledge reliant on Bad News Bears and high school phys ed.

Besides, little attention was paid to the game itself. He drank a beer and made you a vodka Coke and baseball is boring and Alex had suddenly become everything.

"There's a reason baseball is America's pastime," you commented. "Who the fuck wants to sit and watch this all day?"

Alex shrugged, a smile playing on his cheeks. "It's fun when they get a home run."

"It's fun when I get a strike in bowling, doesn't mean everyone wants to sit and watch me," I struck back.

He chuckled, wiping his beer lip. "You like bowling?"

"Yeah. My dad used to set up empty cans and have us play. The nearest bowling alley was 45 minutes away so we went there on special occasions."

Alex smiled, completely charmed, and that's when you started knowing each other. Later, you walked to his bedroom and had sex and while it was passionate, it had lost its spontaneity quality, which didn't lessen it, instead changing it into something new.

The following morning, you took his old words of "stay forever" to heart and never left LA. Your return move to LA was mocked by your friends for your coming-and-going nature and moving everything all over again was a pain in the ass but Alex flew to New York and helped pack your things. When you moved into your new place, Alex helped you unpack and helped "Christen the place," as he put it by going down on you on those marble kitchen counters.

Separate places felt ideal not to rush things, but soon it seemed wasteful as most nights were spent at Alex's. You weren't a big fan of your new place in comparison to Alex'ss, which wasn't shocking. Alex had a pool for Christ's sake.

Although, it still felt like the best fit. You didn't like how much Alex smoked and Alex didn't like how messy you were. While technically not living together, you fought over these things like you did.

Smoking usually went:

"It's my house. I can do it however much I want to!"

"You're going to ruin the house by smoking inside it!"

"I paid for it!"

"You're killing yourself!"

"It's my lungs!"

"I'm gonna die from secondhand smoking!"

Messiness usually went:

"You can't come over and trash my house!"

"It's barely anything! If you let me have a drawer this wouldn't be a problem!"

"It's not just your clothes! You leave dirty dishes everywhere!"

"I get to it eventually!"

"So do the rats!"

But all and all, it always ended relatively positively. Alex took to smoking on his balcony more and you would join him from time to time. You didn't really clean up more, but Alex did give you a top drawer in his dresser.

At the beginning of December, you both attended a Christmas party, where you and Alex wore a Santa hat you bought at Party City because neither of you owned anything festive. However, everyone at the party considered it to make you the cutest couple there. You both thought it was rather cheesy but you leaned into the cliche of it and got drunk off eggnog and roleplayed Mr. & Mrs. Claus at the party until it verged on too creepy.

Over a shared cup of eggnog, Alex asked you, "You want to come to Sheffield?"

Meeting the parents had never been discussed. It was easy when his parents lived in another country and your parents were scared of planes. Though excitement and nerves bubbled, you answered, "Sure" before taking a sip.

He chuckled, now accustomed to what your reactions meant. "We could do Christmas there."

You said, "Sure" and sipped the eggnog again because it helped fight against those nerves in your stomach.

Alex chucked again because he was charmed, now completely lost in you.

Christmas in Sheffield was cold. It rained heavily the whole time you were there. You and Alex only braved walking around town once on the 23rd when the rain had stopped momentarily. The city centre was time for sightseeing all his old haunts. You walked arm-in-arm with Alex in an effort to combat the cold but still keep your hands in your coat pockets.

You got a half hour in before it started pouring rain and you were left feeling like idiots for not bringing an umbrella with you. The car was far away and you both debated ducking into a bookstore but you were both already too soaked and cold and decided just to head back to the car. He grabbed your hand, leading the way, as you raced through the unbearably cold beating rain.

On the way back to his childhood home, the rain had increased even more making it nearly impossible for Alex to see properly while driving. "This is how you end up killing someone," you said.

Alex put his hand on your shoulder but kept his eyes steady on the road. "Relax. I know how to drive."

You removed his hand from your shoulder and placed it back on the wheel. "Then, keep both hands at 10 and 2," you ordered.

He laughed and reached over to kiss your cheek and while the affection made you gain a cavity, your nerves bubbled up as you pushed him away. "Eyes on the road, mister!"

You both made it back unscathed, minus your socks, which had been soaked through. The house was warm and the smell of dinner wafted through the air. The house was quiet other than the pattering of rain and some jazz record his dad had put on. It felt like coming home.

Christmas dinner, however, was hectic. You drove out to his grandparents' place and the quiet 4-person car ride led to a fistful of screaming grandchildren and uncles whose laughs broke the sound barrier.

It had you turning to him. "This is your family?"

"Yeah. Hard to believe, right?" The calmness of Alex must come from his mum's side of the family.

Once dinner was served, the noise level calmed down as people stuffed their faces and they wished to show a great impression to their American guest of honour. The questions were light and it was clear that you weren't the first American girl Alex had brought home but everyone was welcoming and Alex placed a reassuring arm on the back of your chair. He would occasionally lift his hand and play with the longest strands of your hair, bouncing the curls you had made that morning.

Later, while the young kids played with the toys they had just received as gifts, Alex and you drank tea together. It was a warm distance for the fast nights of Los Angeles. You leaned close to Alex on the settee so he could hear your words. "I like Sheffield a lot."

He turned his head away from watching the kids, meeting your eyes. A smile crept to his lips. "Good." His hand smoothed down your sweater-covered arm. "I'm happy you're happy."

That in turn made you smile. "I like this quietness. You know, of the city, not this house."

Alex chuckled and pushed the front hanging pieces of hair behind your shoulder, eyes sculpting over your body. "It's nice to come back. Feels like a reset."

You took your fancy tea cup off your fancy tea plate and took a sip, feeling like a proper English lady. "You should come to Beaman. You'll probably hate it but it's like no one else in the world exists out there."

He hummed, staring softly at you. His eyes made the ice in you melt. "If you love it, I'll love it," he promised.

"It'll just be you, me, and the chickens," you giggled.

Alex grinned, skimming his thumb over your cheekbone. "Hm. I love you."

It caught all the air in the room and it suddenly didn't feel as cold as it did a minute before. You inched closer to him and smiled because he was smiling. "You've never told me that before, you know."

He furrows his brows, playing up his acting. "I haven't?"

"Actually, you told me when you were drunk once. Back in October, at that Halloween party."

He squints seriously this time. "I don't remember this."

You coyly smile. "I know. It was when Miles and me were carrying you inside and I couldn't figure out if you were saying it to me or him."

He leaned forward, his arm pulling you toward him as he laughed in your ear before kissing your cheek. "You. Always you."

"Good." You clapped your hands. "I'll hang this over Miles's head for decades."

That night, Alex fell asleep quickly, allowing you to realize something. You nudged him awake, making him groan. "What?"

You curled your arm around him. "Nothing. I'm sorry I woke you."

His arms moved around your waist, laying you on top of him. His eyes stayed shut, not wanting to lose his sleepiness. "It's alright," he mumbled. "Everything okay?"

"Yeah." You leaned into his ear, whispering, "Love you."

A grin spread across his lips, enticing you to lean over and kiss the corner of it. He hummed. "Love you too. Night."

The following year, Alex went away on tour. You stayed, he went, but it never felt like it placed a strain on the relationship. There was longing and missing but never any resentment and as Alex would put it, "It always makes for great reunion sex."

You briefly joined them in August when they played California: Santa Ana, San Diego, and Outside Lands in San Francisco. They were all one after the next and left you exhausted and though Alex was much more well-adjusted to the pace of touring, it was reaching the tail end and he struggled with the comedown on it all.

Those were the only times you grew frustrated with one another. You never really yelled or fought—maybe because you didn't want to or maybe because you were in close quarters with other people—although, you had tiffs.

Much like your annoyances at home, traveling or touring only amplified what truly annoyed you about each other but in a way—a super corny, cheesy way—you loved Alex even more for that.

"I like that you're not perfect," you said late to him one night. He was smoking a cigarette and though the weather was hot, there was a nighttime breeze that settled over the two of you.

"Gee, thanks," he quipped, puffing away.

You knocked a shoulder into him. "I'm being sweet. If you were perfect then I'd feel inadequate all the time in comparison but since you've got these flaws and vices that make you more real, in a roundabout way, you are perfect. For me, at least."

Alex grew amused with every passing word, tucking an arm behind you. "Well, you're perfect. I hope you feel that."

You shifted your body to get a full look at him. "Maybe not perfect but I feel worthy or something. You always make me feel adequate. I appreciate that."

He shrugged, unsure of how to respond. "You're easy to love. I've never struggled with that."

That's always been the word: easy. From the moment you met, it was a clear link holding you two together, and with time doing its thing, it only grew slowly into what it should be. There was never a force of change, you held onto each other until you clicked at the right time. After that, there was no way to disrupt it.

You moved into Alex's in September. After the tour (and even before), you spent all your time there anyway. He decided over breakfast one day to make it official.

He pulled out a pan to make eggs but before he could place it on the stove, he stared at it. "This is your pan," he said."

You looked up from your cereal. "Oh, yeah, you don't have small pans so I brought mine over. It's better for your eggs, you know. Heats up quicker."

Alex began to laugh, placing the pan down on the stove, and his hands on his hips. You chuckled along with him, even though you were confused. "What's so funny?"

He shook his head, trying to shake off the laughter. "Do you even have anything at your place anymore?"

"Um, I don't know." you thought aloud. You shoveled a pile of cereal in your mouth.

"Why don't you just sell the place?" He suggested. "Move in here."

You shrugged. "Maybe."

"Maybe?" He questioned.

"Yeah, I mean, I like my place."

Alex snorted. "You're never at your place."

"I still like it," you insisted.

He moved over, coming behind you like a snake, and hugging your waist tightly. "Come on, move in," he whispered in your ear.

"I'll think about it," you said as he kissed your neck.

Alex decided on other plans for breakfast. You stood up to clean your bowl but his arms stopped you from making it to the kitchen sink. "I have a convincing argument," he said, taking the bowl out of your hands and setting it down.

You laughed at his bravado but you were soon overpowered by it. He bent you over the counter harshly with a kiss to your left shoulder blade as a form of salvation. He kneeled down on both his knees and grazed his hands on your butt, playing with the fabric of your shorts. He squeezed and pulled and yanked, eventually dragging the material off of you and having it lay at your feet.

Alex's slow nature in the morning took hold as he danced his fingers around your cunt. The tips of his fingers edged on the lips of your pussy. The thumb on his other hand, touched over your asshole, making it pucker up with tension.

"Your teasing is only making me want to say no," you said, desiring relief as soon as possible.

Alex only hummed and muttered, "Interesting." He placed a light kiss on your inner thigh but it only felt like he was moving further away from the point of release. He moved up and kissed your left butt cheek, his hand squeezing the right.

His touch became light and he moved his hand back down to your lips. "I know how to get you there," he insisted. He tapped both your knees. "Spread. They're so close together. It's like you don't want me to touch you."

"It's called being bored," you retorted.

Then, Alex slapped your ass. He'd never done anything more than a pat and it was usually more in a casual setting, not when you were butt naked and not that hard.

You turned your head around, looking down at him with a squint. "Did you just slap my ass?"

"Yeah," he quickly admitted. "Why? Did you like it?" A smirk presented as if he already knew the answer.

You didn't want to give in to him. This was frustration, it wasn't supposed to be satisfaction. You wanted him begging for you, not the other way around. But you couldn't help it. You bit your lip and turned away, not wanting him to see the pleasurable smile on your face. "Maybe."

But then he overwhelmed you, diving straight in and placing his mouth directly on your cunt, dragging a long moan out of you. You could feel the coldness of the counter through your shirt, erecting your nipples. Your hands made a fist, unable to grab onto anything, thwarting you.

His tongue plunged into you and then moved up to your clit before pulling away again, making everything unbearable. His mouth moved to kiss your inner thigh before he left completely to slap your ass again. "You alright?" He asked to make sure, even if you gasped in delight at every feeling.

"Go back down," you demanded.

Alex listened and returned to your core, licking his way through your fold, and reaching his tongue up to your clit. He continued the game of agony, moving back and forth from the pleasurable, but slowly the edging made for a great build-up and he began to lay it on thick, never abandoning your clit until your legs were shaking and you were practically pushing him away from you.

He stood up and slapped your ass. You moved in on Tuesday.

Not much changed. You already had drawers in his dresser and space in his closet and pans in his kitchen. You had already infected his house with your essence and the only difference was you weren't paying rent on a place you were barely ever sleeping.

As the new year began, things slowed. Alex started growing his hair out, stopped shaving, and became far more reclusive. He had grown tired from the road, was now in his 30s, and, most importantly, settled. At times, that thought was terrifying for you, staring down the barrel of this being the rest of your life. Other times, it was comforting, usually waking up in the morning next to Alex.

But there was a lifestyle shift in Alex that you weren't yet aligned with. He rebuffed the idea of going out, talked about leaving LA, and locked himself away in his music room. You weren't particularly annoyed at the latter other than it sometimes felt like he was locking you out of part of him. The idea of leaving LA wasn't unappealing, but he longed for England more and you were American through and through. Going out, well, maybe that's where you got into trouble.

Alex's newfound life as a hermit wasn't horrible now that you were living together but you started to go out more and more without him. Usually with various groups of friends, sometimes for work, two times with Miles, and one time by yourself. Alex said no to going so often that you stopped asking. Soon, you weren't spending many nights together. He'd stay up late working on music or you'd stay out late drinking. Like everything else, it eventually came to a head.

"I think I'm going to Beaman next week," you told him while getting ready to go out one night.

He was in the shower. He was staying in. "Why?"

You furrowed your brows toward the shower curtain. "I haven't been back in a while. My mom's birthday is at the end of the month."

"Alright," he said over the sound of rushing water.

"Do you want to come with me?"

For a moment, only the shower made a noise. It didn't even sound like Alex moved an inch. You stared at the shower curtain and thought he might pop his head out. But he didn't and you didn't move to open the curtain either. Finally, he answered, "No, no. I think I'll stay here. Jamie's coming into town soon."

You thought about fighting it or asking him if he was going to do anything with Jamie, instead, you said, "Okay. I'm leaving now."

"Alright," he said, "Have fun. I love you." He never came out from behind the curtain. When you came home he was asleep.

Upon your return from Iowa, Alex picked you up at the airport. The car ride home was pleasant and he made dinner. You were scraping your fork along the plate when he asked, "Would you ever want to live in Iowa again?"

You snorted at the ridiculousness. "I left home when I was 18 and have only lived in New York and LA. Does that strike you as someone who wants to move back to the Midwest?"

 Alex shrugged and thoughtfully looked down at his nearly empty plate. "I just never knew if you thought about it."

"Are you thinking about it? About England?" You leaned on your fist, eager for the answer.

He shook his head. "I'm just homesick, I guess." He then stood up and took his plate to the dishwasher.

"Do you want to talk about it?" You shouted into the kitchen.

You awaited an answer from the other side of the wall. You heard the dishwasher shut and his feet pad across the wooden floor, he stopped in the archway, facing you. With certainty, he said, "I'm happy here."

You stayed seated. "Would you want to move back?"

He looked unsure but answered, "I don't think so."

"You can be honest," you assured him. "If you think I'm worried or going to shoot it down. I mean, I'm not saying yes, but if you're thinking about it I think we should talk about it."

He shook his head. "I'm not saying I want to be here forever and maybe that's something we should talk about since..."

"Since?" You questioned, clueless of where his words were leading.

Alex laughed at you, turning away, not bearing to make eye contact. "Since we're us. You and me."

"I'm confused," you said, crossing your brows. "What's this have to do with England?"

He laughed again, nerves tackling him. "We're not just fooling around here anymore. This direction..." He motioned a straight line and though you were catching on you still wished to hear him talk in full.

"This direction?"

He rolled his eyes with a smile, exasperated by your questioning. "Look, we've talked about it."

You playfully raised an eyebrow. "It?"

He wagged his finger at you. "Quit playing games with me here."

"Oh," you nodded enthusiastically, "the marrying me thing. You talk around it like it's a curse word."

"'Cause it makes me nervous." He played with the ends of his hair as a soothing mechanism. 

You shifted forward, leaning your head onto your hand, resting it on your knee. You genuinely asked, "Why does it make you nervous?"

A nervous smile played at his lips as he calmly said, "Why the fuck do you think?" He laughed, feeling overwhelmed, both of you.

"You tell me," you egged him on.

Alex threw his head back, exhausted from you toying him. "You do the laundry. I know you've been in my underwear drawer."

You giggled, remembering the sight. "Well, you put it in your underwear drawer, how cliche are you?"

"At least I didn't do my sock drawer!" He shouted, trying to insist he wasn't such an idiot. "I didn't think you'd go digging around in there."

"Hey!" You assert. "I didn't find it. It found me."

You both laughed and soon the room fell quiet. "Hey," you said. "You got me a princess cut." It was dainty like you wanted, no giant diamonds, and no uncomfortability. A simple, classic look. He did good.

He kept a small smile, despite both of your racing hearts. "Well, that's what you wanted."

You grinned back, sitting up straight, and leaning your side into the back of the dining room chair. "You got my ring size right too."

He raised his eyebrows. "You put it on?"

"On my right hand that way I didn't break any rules."

Smiles were plastered on each of your faces. "Should I just go get it?" You'll probably cry if he does go get it.

"Yes. And yes to your next question too."

"I haven't even gotten down on one knee."

You shook your head. "You don't have to get down on one knee."

"I want to." He does. And the ring fits just as well on the left as it did on the right.

Just like moving in, being engaged isn't that much different either with the exception of getting your mother off your back and a nice new piece of jewelry. Alex enjoyed calling you "fiancée" when introducing you.

You started to go out less but when he did he came more often. It was a non-verbal comparison and with a new album on the horizon, you started to stockpile time together. Any wedding talk was limited but agreed upon to take place after the tour so you could enjoy married life together. Alex also heavily enjoyed the in-between state of being engaged and what you thought would be the dull before the actual excitement of marriage, turned into its own new game.

You accompanied him more on tour, mostly because it was much longer this time. You joined him for branches, attended the US shows, made him shave his head in Texas, and made your way over to London. There were bigger breaks this time with things not packed so closely together. You spent Christmas in Iowa with Alex for the first time. You went to Hawaii for his birthday. You went bowling for Valentine's Day.

When the tour ended and there was an actual wedding to plan, everything felt stuck. It was either too cliche or too underwhelming. It became easier to just get married and worry more about planning a party. So, you got married at a cute small inn with sycamore trees with a small number of guests. Those who would be willing to sit through a wedding without getting antsy.

The reception party grew in numbers and the loveliest part is you didn't have to worry about cleaning any of the mess up. Alex got cake on his suit and you went to the bathroom more times than you can count. But overall, it was a simple, sweet night. 

Honeymooning (fucking) in Fiji and then resuming life two weeks later. "Wife" became Alex's new favourite word but everything else stayed the same. Well, for about a month.

You just had a feeling. You woke up one day and felt it. You nudged him awake, it was early before the sun was up. "Alex."

He hummed in acknowledgment, shut-eyed.

You burrowed into him and nonchalantly said, "I'm pregnant."

"What?!" His eyes were wide and his face wrinkled in confusion. "Seriously? When did you find out?"

You flopped onto your back, turning your head to the side to look at him. "Just now. I can feel it."

"So, you feel like you're pregnant?" He questioned.

"Yeah."

"But you don't know it. You didn't take a test?"

"No, but I know. I'll take one in the morning, I just wanted to let you know. Night." You turned over into your pillow and closed your eyes.

Alex sat with his mouth agape. "Yeah. Night." He didn't fall back asleep.

And you were right. You shrugged and said, "Told ya." Alex laughed. Then, he cried. Then, he hugged you. Then, he kissed your stomach, but you thought that was too weird so you told him to stop.

Being pregnant definitely changed things but things felt the same just with one more thing. You fucked. A lot. Your sexual appetite increased but you had always been horny for Alex. It's just a given. But there was a point where things did change.

It was the first ultrasound. You felt it when you entered the room. The air was cold and there was a shift, everything suddenly becoming real. You enjoyed watching Alex twiddle his thumbs while you waited for the technician. 

When they started to move the wand around your stomach, he became fascinated with the machine, continuously asking questions. More of them were about the machine rather than the baby. 

And, well, then the whole twin thing happened.

"Like two of them?" Alex held two fingers up like he couldn't quite comprehend it. 

The technician nodded and you still couldn't think of a verbal response to the news.

Then, Alex said, "We've been having a lot of sex, did we like make another baby when we—"

You interrupted, "Are you the dumbest person alive?"

Alex pinned the ultrasound to your fridge and kept a copy in his wallet. He held an affection for it that you didn't. Maybe because you were the pregnant one. The proof came attached to you. Nonetheless, you were charmed by Alex in his fatherly role, even if he stressed you out with the need to be super-ultra-prepared. His nervousness about what you could and couldn't do got annoying by the second month. He calmed down after you yelled at him.

Although, it was nice for him to take on the extra work. You picked out the design for the nursery and he did all the work, citing that you couldn't paint because of the toxic fumes and everything was a heavy load.

He knew you were full of bullshit but he didn't care. "I like helping out. Being the man in charge."

You told him not to get too full of himself. His insistence on doing everything led him to break his index finger.

But after everything had healed and two babies became two girls, you both relaxed into your final months of solitude, which really just meant lots of sex. You fucked and he went down on you but sometimes you felt too sore down there from all the pelvic pressure and though Alex insisted that no sex was fine, you insisted that release was release, even if it wasn't your release. Alex still fondled your breasts too, saying that's where all his horniness came from.

"How can I not be turned on when they're just staring at me?" They were bigger and Alex was always insatiable.

"I feel like a cow," you whined. You were bigger with two babies and the only way you did have sex was doggy style with everything hanging.

"You're not a cow," Alex said, climbing into bed. You were under the sheets, exhausted at 9 PM. He curled up behind you, whispering in your ear, "You want me to fuck you on your side?"

You thought about it, felt the ache, and said, "Okay."

You were already underwear-free because they hurt your vagina too much when you slept. You had returned to your old days of quickness. Alex pulled himself out of his boxers, gave himself a few pumps, and slid into you. You softly moaned as Alex pushed into you slowly at first before his thrusts grew quicker. He knew you were tired and needed a quick release. 

"Fuck," he harshly whispered as his speed picked up, skins slapped, and sweat beads formed. He clutched your hipbone tightly and you fisted your pillowcase. Every action rushed and a final slam resulted in you falling apart and him emptying into you. His hand caressed up your bump and you knew he was very turned on but the whole pregnancy sex things and not just because of the boobs. However, he did love those too, and gave them a quick squeeze before cleaning up.

The final change came in an expected way. Labour was shorter if only for the epidural and the C-section. You wanted to resist the idea until the thought of pushing two babies out set in and the pain became too unbearable and Twin A was breached and then a C-section seemed like the best thing, even if it was surgery.

Alex liked wearing the medical gear and kept adjusting his mask. Oh, Alex, sweet naive Alex. Luckily, everything was smooth, except for the fact you couldn't hold the babies until they had sewn everything up. But Alex cut the umbilical cord and got to hold them, which was a sweet enough sight.

When you were placed in recovery and finally got to hold them, then came the hard part. "What do we name them?" You asked.

Alex shook his head. "I got no fucking idea." Names had been discussed but you never really landed on one let alone two. "You should name them. You carried them and they're getting my last name."

"It's too much pressure," you whined.

Alex sighed and concluded, "Thing 1 and Thing 2 it is then."

Eventually, you decided on Wren and Willow. You initially hated the shared first initial but Alex liked it and it became too frustrating to think of any other names.

The first month was harsh. Your body was slowly healing and you ached all the time. You had backup with both sets of parents but then everyone went back home and everything shut down and it was just you, Alex, and Wren & Willow. It didn't actually feel like much had changed. It's not like you would have left the house anyway.

Alex takes to having the girls nap on him. Sometimes one at a time, sometimes both. Sometimes he will let you nap in his arms too. The days are long but the weeks move fast.

One day, Willow laughs. It's the first time either of them has laughed. It took you both by surprise. You were feeding Wren while Willow laid on her back with Alex loomed over her. Usually, when he would blow raspberries on her stomach she would just gurgle and flap her arms and legs around, but this time she laughed, and it’s the loudest sound you've ever heard.

Alex looked down at her, completely engaged, not bearing to take his eyes off, scared to miss the sight. It gets him laughing too with tears in his throat. He leaned down again and blew more air against her tummy. She shrieks this time, giggling, and you want to capture the sound forever. Run and have Alex record it.

But you looked down at Wren and rubbed your finger against her tiny baby cheek, deciding that there was no need to move from this comfort.

They aren't easy babies. There are two of them too. They both wake each other up, which means both you and Alex have to get up because it's 2 v. 2 and they're small but mighty. They eventually get on a sleep schedule and a routine and trade-off between you and Alex is set into place.

By the end of the year, it's the new normal and you don't remember a time when they weren't around. You want to be with them all the time just like you want to be with Alex all the time.

They're great. But then they wake you up at 3 AM.

*

a/n: so...this slowly became a prequel to my dad!al fic and i decided to just finish it that way. i also have not read through it because i'm tired so any mistakes you did not see.

[brucewaynehater101]

Have you ever read a fic called A Medication On Railroading? Because I think you'll like it. Basic summery with no spoilers: Jack takes Tim on a trip to Atlanta and then leaves him in Atlanta so he goes train hopping to get home. Very hurt/comfort.

But it also gives me an idea that I'm not sure where to share. What if that wasn't Tim's first time getting home like that? Maybe the first time was just New York when he was say... 9 years old? His parents took him with them to a Gala and Jack thought Janet called him a car home and Janet thought Jack took care of it. Neither one did and Tiny Tim figured out how to get home on his own. It happens again when he's 11 so he already knows what to do, he studied up in case it happened again.

After the second time, anytime Tim is with his parents he keeps his camera bag on him at all times which has 300 dollars in it that he can use on getting home. Tim also discovers during the second one that trains are *way* better than busses and cabs. He's all alone, just him and the scenery and whatever cargo his car holds. He can Fully Relax. He doesn't have to be the perfect heir, he doesn't have to smile for the cameras, he doesn't have to be quiet or good or perfectly polite. He can scream and laugh and cry if he wants to and no one will ever know! He can sing and curse and throw rocks at things! He can be a *kid*.

After Tim becomes Robin, he never calls Batman for a pick up if he's abandoned somewhere and instead will make his own way home. Heck, after some missions with Young Justice he will turn off his trackers and ride trains home so that he can loudly vent about them without having to worry about anyone ever knowing what he said!

This does become a slight problem when he's 17 and Bruce needs him for something and finds out from Bart that their mission ended a day and a half ago. But Tim never called for pick up. And his trackers are all offline. And he never hit his emergency beacon and *no one can find him*. Bruce totally isn't freaking out. The other Bats totally aren't freaking out. Young Justice totally isn't freaking out. There totally isn't a panic spreading through the super hero community about Red Robin maybe being dead I a ditch somewhere and how both Batman and his team will react.

Tim meanwhile is straight vibing as he reclines on a stack of bags of rice like they're pillows, singing along to some sound track he downloaded onto his MP3 player, having turned the volume to max and nearly screaming the lyrics because it's the one time he feels like he can.

Yes! I love that fic you mentioned. It's really really good. Perhaps I should re read it since it's been a minute.

Also, I absolutely adore the little tidbit you've added. A few things to note that I love about it:

No one else knows/finds out until he's Red Robin

It's a semi-decent coping mechanism. He gets to chill out, vibe, and process. He's also in touch with nature and music during this.

Tim drops his various masks to simply exist for a bit

Tim chilling on some rice bags in a train cart with an MP3 player (not even his phone. This indicates he's fully offline during these trips)

A few additional notes to add. One, this could buff up the canon notion that pre-Robin Tim traveled far to go see Dick at the circus and convince him to become Robin again. If Tim had already done that twice unexpectedly, he'd do swell when he actually plans to do it.

Two, Tim probably created a white noise generator or something to give him totally privacy on his "me trips." This is why Kon and Superman freak out. They can't hear him.

Three, he probably gets covered in grime, dust, and dirt. He's no longer in the pristine environment he grew up in.

Gods. That sounds so nice and relaxing. I'm actually kind of jealous. Just the wind, music, and the slowly changing scenery? Fuuuck.

[kjupchurch-xx]

12 Years In The Making - Tumblr Request

"Love, remember, we're having dinner tonight, don't make plans." Hugh yelled from the bathroom as he was shaving his face. 

I smiled, "I know, babe. I haven't forgotten. I'll make sure I'm free and finished up with my interview before 7." I said as I re-checked my dress. 

Tonight, was Hugh and I's tenth wedding anniversary. Normally, we'd be on a trip like we did every year for our anniversary, but I had just celebrated the premiere of a movie I'd been filming for the last year, so that halted our anniversary vacation plans. Our kids were visiting with Hugh's mother, Grace while she was in town, so we had the house to ourselves for the night. Hugh's older kids, Oscar and Ava were going to be joining us for dinner tonight. 

In 2012, Hugh and I met whilst working on a movie set together and immediately began dating. I was 22 and he was going on 44 years old. He'd been divorced from his ex-wife for about 9 months at that time. His kids were around 7 and 12 at the time. We married in 2014 with a quiet beachfront ceremony in Australia, surrounded by our immediate families, his children and a few of our closest friends. Our ceremony was more intimate than anything, with Hugh tearing up seeing me accompanied down the beach by my father. 

In 2015, we found out we were expecting our first child, Hugh's first biological child. Our daughter was born in early 2016. Our second daughter was born in 2019, with our son being born in 2022, just two years ago. Our kids were now 8, 5 and 2. Despite being a huge blended family, he knows I would never be caught dead driving a mini van or a "mom car". While he drives the luxury SUVs, mom still drives the Audi RX8 and occasionally a Dodge Charger if I have the babies in the backseat. 

I was shaken from my thoughts by a kiss on the cheek, "You look beautiful, baby." He said softly in my ear as he smiled at me. 

I blushed, "Thank you. Where are we going tonight?" I asked, knowing he would never tell me, but always hopeful that he'd slip up one day and spoil a surprise. 

He smirked at me as he shook his head, "Now Darling, you know if I told you where we were going, it would spoil the surprise." 

I playfully rolled my eyes, "How am I supposed to know where to meet you after my interview if I don't know where you're taking me to dinner?" I asked, trying to catch him up once more. 

He chuckled as he pressed a kiss on the top of my head, "You're meeting me at the first place I took you when you moved to New York. That is the only hint I'm giving you." 

Stefanos. Stefanos was the first place Hugh took me for dinner once I'd officially moved in with him, in 2013. It was a beautiful, high-end Italian restaurant. He'd picked it because he knew Italian was my favorite type of cuisine. 

I smiled as I pulled him in for a kiss, "I've gotta go or else I'm gonna be late." I mumbled against his lips.

He smirked against my lips, mumbling back, "You can be fashionably late, love. I would love to ravage you right here." 

I giggled, "As much as I want to, and you know I have a hard time turning you down, I have to go... but, later tonight, I promise I'll make it up to you." I said seductively while slowly grazing my hand over the crotch of his pants. 

He laughed, almost shivering at my touch, "This is why we have three kids." He said nonchalantly. 

I laughed as I grabbed my keys to head towards the door of our home, "Alright, I'll see you at 7." I said, smiling as I walked out of the house. 

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I quickly finished up my interview, noticing it was now 6:30, which meant I had to haul literal ass to Stefano's to get there by 7 to meet Hugh for our anniversary dinner. I grabbed my keys and wallet and began sprinting towards the elevator, then towards the parking garage where my car was parked. 

I managed to make it to Stefano's right at 6:59 on the dot to see Hugh standing outside of his SUV, looking at me. I quickly shut the engine off and jumped out, "I am so sorry I'm almost late. The interview finished at 6:30, traffic downtown was a nightmare." I said almost anxiety ridden from the traffic. 

He giggled, "It's okay, love... But I lied to you. We're not eating at Stefano's." He smirked, trying to keep a straight face. 

I looked at him almost wide eyed, "Why did you make me rush to Stefano's then?" I asked, getting a bit annoyed. 

Traffic and anxiety were not my friend, clearly. Luckily, my husband knew this and never took it personally. 

He chuckled at me as he walked up to me and kissed me, "Because you kept insisting that I tell you where I was taking you." He said cockily. 

I sighed, chuckling as I rolled my eyes, wrapping my arms around his neck, "Okay, I learned my lesson. Now seriously, what are we doing?" 

He pulled away from me and walked towards his SUV, "Get in and I'll take you to the actual place we're going." 

I shrugged my shoulders, "Okay." I said as I grabbed my wallet out of my Audi, locking the car and getting into his SUV. 

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

Hugh drove for another 10 minutes, while his free hand interlocked its fingers with mine. The ride was filled with him happily singing along to songs on the radio. I noticed we were pulling up at an event venue and looked over at him. 

He knew I was going to, considering he was smiling at me as he parked the car. "What are we doing, Jackman?" I asked, almost suspiciously, raising one brow at him. 

He chuckled cheekily, "We're doing another press interview." He said casually. 

I squinted my eyes, "This is not a very good surprise." I said sarcastically. 

He rolled his eyes, shutting the car off and getting out, "Just come on." He said, mocking annoyance. 

I got out of the SUV as he came over and linked his arm with mine as we began walking towards the entrance of the venue. 

"Is this seriously a press interview?" I asked, noticing all of the cars in the parking lot. 

He nodded, "Okay, it's not a press interview. We're going to Ryan and Blake's wrap party, but I promise, I am taking you to dinner afterwards." He said as we continued walking. 

I sighed. It was our tenth wedding anniversary. As much as I loved and adored Ryan and Blake, I wanted to celebrate my anniversary. I didn't care to be celebrating everyone else tonight. This was out of the ordinary for Hugh, but with how busy he'd been with the press for Deadpool & Wolverine, I'm not too surprised our anniversary had slipped to the back burner. 

As we approached the entrance, his grip on my arm tightened as he pulled me closer, wrapping one arm around my waist. As we entered the venue, I immediately spotted Blake and Ryan, and a group of people I hadn't yet recognized or paid much attention to. There were pictures of Blake's new film, It Ends With Us plastered near the stage area. 

Blake and Ryan approached us, "About time you two made it. We were getting ready to post your numbers on a billboard." Ryan joked. 

Hugh and I laughed, "Thanks for coming, you too. I know it's your anniversary, you can blame him for the poor planning." Blake said sympathetically as she shot Ryan a glare. 

I smiled as I hugged her, "It's okay. Thank you for having us." I said, hiding my disappointment. 

"Mommy!" I heard yell as I felt two small arms wrap around my waist. 

I chuckled as I looked down to see our middle daughter hugging my waist, "Hey boo, where's grandma Grace?" I asked her as I rubbed her hair. 

She shrugged, "She's talking to uncle Shawn." Our daughter said as she pointed over to Shawn Levy, who was in fact chatting it up with my mother-in-law, as she held our two year old son on her hip. 

I giggled, as Hugh asked her, "What about daddy? You didn't miss me?" He playfully pouted. 

She giggled as she playfully shook her head no, still holding onto my waist. 

Our 5-year-old was a bit...scared of daddy after seeing him on the set for Deadpool and Wolverine. She truly believed daddy had claws that come out of his hands when he's upset, which has been hilarious and a bit aggravating convincing her that Daddy indeed does not have claws that come out of his knuckles. 

I stooped down to look at her, "You better give daddy a hug." I said playfully, trying to sound firm. 

She shook her head no, "Mommy, daddy has claws that come out of him hands." She said as matter of factly. 

Hugh tried hard to not show his laughter as he watched our interaction. 

I shrugged, "I know he does." I nodded, "If you don't hug him, I think they might come out. Quick, hurry!" I said dramatically to her, lightly pushing her towards Hugh. 

Ryan was having a hard time holding his laughter back as he watched me interact with my daughter, while Hugh shot me a glare, trying also to not laugh as our daughter nervously walked over and hugged her dad. 

Hugh shook his head at me as he picked her up, "Baby, daddy does not have claws. Your mommy just says that because she's got them and doesn't want you to know the truth." He said sarcastically as he stuck his tongue out at me. 

As we walked further into the venue, I began noticing the people in the crowd. I saw my family, Hugh's siblings, his mother of course, a bunch of our friends, my step children, etc. 

I looked towards Hugh, "Did you fly my family here for Ryan and Blake's wrap party?" I asked almost in disbelief. 

He smirked, "I flew your family here for your gift, baby." 

I looked at him, puzzled. "I'm so confused right now." 

He chuckled as he sat our daughter down, "I've got to go give a speech for Blake. I'll be back." He said quickly as he walked over towards the stage, grabbing a microphone, tapping it to make sure it's on.

Our daughter ran to play with the other kids as my family approached me, showering me in hugs. My family did not live in New York, they lived further down south. Hugh always made sure to fly them up for any special occasion. He knew it meant the world to me whenever he'd include them in anything we did. 

Hugh began speaking into the microphone, "Hello everyone. " He said with a smile, "Tonight, we're here to celebrate the premiere of Blake's new film." He continued as he smiled towards Blake and Ryan. "I just want to say, I appreciate each and every one of you for coming tonight. Planning this event has been stressful because I did not want to risk my wife finding out." He smirked towards me, laughing nervously. 

I looked up at him, shooting him a glare. So he couldn't plan something for our anniversary, but he could take the time to plan something for our friend's movie release. I noticed Ryan and Blake looking over at me, snickering. Hugh noticed my glare as he continued giggling nervously. 

"My wife thinks she's here to celebrate Blake's movie." He said as he smiled cheekily at me, "But actually baby, we're here to celebrate our anniversary." He said sweetly as my glare faded into an over-emotional expression. "Ten years ago, I married this beautiful, sexy, gorgeous woman. I met her twelve years ago to this very day, and I fell madly in love with her." He paused as I began to tear up. Our oldest daughter, who was 8 walked over and held my hand. 

I shook my head in disbelief that I'd actually thought he'd forgotten to plan something special. "Baby, this party is for you. You are an incredible mother to our children. You are an incredible wife. I am so blessed to be married to you and to share this life with you, even if you are difficult to deal with sometimes." He joked, causing me to chuckle while everyone began laughing. 

He smiled at me, "Come here, baby." He said as he motioned his hand for me to come up on the stage. 

I blushed shyly as I walked up towards the stage, taking his hand. "I love you. Happy 10 years, baby." he said sweetly as he pulled me into his arms, smiling at me. 

I smiled, wrapping my arms around his neck. "I love you too. Happy 10 years...and to many, many more..." I said as I pulled him in for a kiss.

[uniquesoulwinner]

My Queen

Leah Williamson x reader 

Idea that came to me after seeing Leah get her OBE today of a little surprise celebration with her girl who she didn’t think was even in the country! 

Hope you enjoy its not very good and the format isn’t working right so it might read funny but well it’s something 

Let me know what you think 

***********************

Y/n pov

Getting off the plane in London brings nothing but butterflies to your stomach at the thought of the day ahead. You see given that I’ve been in New York for work for the past 9 long weeks I was not meant to be here today well at least that’s what Leah thinks, I however always knew I would be here! 

As soon as we got the date for Leah to get her long awaited OBE medal I was on the phone to Amanda to plan exactly what was going to happen today, this has lead to a lot of sneaky phone calls between me and my girlfriends mother, who I’m nearly sure is more excited about me being there to surprise Leah than I am.

Finding out that I was going to have to be in New York for 16 weeks for work was never part of the plan, being away from Leah for that long was a thought that made my whole body hurt before I even went, which is why I I have worked my ass off over the last 9 weeks so complete everything I needed to do to get home to my girlfriend of 4 years early which brings me back to walking though Heathrow Airport at 7:45am on a Wednesday morning counting down the minutes until I have her in my arms again. 

Just as I was getting into the taxi to take me to the hotel I had booked for myself and Leah for that night my phone rang and my smile got even bigger seeing it was Amanda!

Y/n: Hey perfect timing I’m just in the taxi

Amanda: ahh perfect I’m so excited, she’s getting ready already! I swear she takes forever.

Y/n: Worth every minute though; you find yourself say thing that out loud without ever realising until you hear Amanda aww on the other end of the phone which made you blush no end! Anyway how are we looking for timeline I’m just heading to the hotel now to get showered and ready! 

Amanda: so we should be wrapped up in Windsor by around 13:30pm at the latest and then she thinks we are just going for dinner and meeting holly and all that couldn’t come to the ceremony there. You can hear the excited little giggle coming from Amanda like she is on a secret spy mission which makes you laugh  

Y/n: ok good and she definitely doesn’t suspect a thing right you ask already knowing that she doesn’t considering you spent 2 hours in the phone to her last night with her upset and missing you as well as telling you how much she wished you where going to be there today which yes broke your heart in two , the only thing that you hoped was seeing her face today would make up for everything!

Amanda: nope not a thing, she is completely oblivious you hear that cheeky giggle again she is going to be so happy y/n, she has missed you so much you you 

Y/n: yeh I know I’ve missed her too more than words but not long now, god I’m nervous you laugh at the Ridiculousness of getting nervous over seeing the woman that has been the centre of your world for 4 years now 

Amanda: oh sweetie you no need to be nervous, the second that girl sees you everything will be worth it, you know … Amanda suddenly stops talking only thing you can hear is some rustling and foot steps which your hoping isn’t Leah catching you both out 

Ok I gotta go she is wandering around now looking for her socks so I better help I’ll see you later ok text me when your there , ok bye bye bye and the phones goes dead leaving you laughing at the thought of your girl running around looking for socks which you know she will be treating like a Military mission in that room ! 

************************

Later on that day after checking in to the hotel and getting yourself ready , wearing a tight green dress that you knew drive Leah crazy with your hair down and curled and black heals, you where standing that the bar of the restaurant that had been booked out for today with holly catching up on every bit of gossip you had missed being away which was lot it seemed! 

Although after the 7th time checking the door you did catch holly giving you a very knowing smirk which made you laugh purely because you didn’t care how obvious you where being, ever since Amanda text to say they where 20 minutes away you could help but look out for them ! You wanted your girl and weren’t even sorry about it ! 

The restaurant was full of Leah’s close family and friends most of which were now laughing at the twitter comments over Leah being the queen of England now ! Lol 

You only snapped out of staring at the door when you heard Jen Leah’s teammate call you 

Jen: y/n how does it feel to have bagged England’s new queen  all you heard was laughter which then turned to cooing and awe’s when you replied saying y/n: she has always been my queen 

And right as you said that you seen her your queen walk past the window towards the door looking out of this world and every bit worthily of the title queen in your opinion but it was to time and time for you to hide in the crowd who had all turned to face the door waiting for her to come in, to which when she did come in she was meant by just noise of chatting and clapping but all you could hear was her laugh that beautiful laugh while she made her way around people still not spotting you ! 

Amanda however snuck around to hug you whispering how she couldn’t wait to see Leah’s face ! 

After around 5 minutes of her still not spotting you , you had enough of waiting so grabbed a glass of champagne and made your way up behind her as she spoke to Alex Scott and Kim little both of who started smiling the second they seen you approach! 

Y/n: would the new queen like a drink you said standing behind her and while you couldn’t see her face you could see her body freeze as she heard your voice which made your heart burst. Y/n you heard her whisper still not turning around which made you giggle given that all you wanted right now was to kiss her still though you stepped forward so you where right behind her meaning you could whisper in her ear hello baby, any chance I could get a hug now?  You didn’t even have a split second to react when her arms where around your neck with such force that if ever the sensible kimmy hadn’t if grabbed the champagne out if your hands it would have been all down the back of Leah’s very expensive looking suit ! 

Suddenly all the people in the room weren’t there anymore the only thing that you noticed was your girl finally in your arms after way to long and while pulling her impossibly closer to you , you just breathed her in every part of you and missed every part of her and now here you could never imagine being away from her again which made what you were about to do even more clear in your head, so while holding her as close as possible with one arm your eyes met Leah’s grandmas giving her a nod and hold out your hand , you watched as the whole room tried to contain themselves as she placed the black velvet box in your hand giving your hand a small squeeze as she did !

Focusing back on Leah who’s head was still buried in your neck, pulling back slightly so you could see her with a massive smile on your face that was thankfully matched by her, finally gave you the chance to look into those eyes that have had you weak for years. It’s only when you see her eyes flick down to your lips that you pull her in making sure she can’t feel the box behind her back, although all sense leaves your body the second her lips meet yours for the first time in over 2 months. Finally it feels like I’m home you think, kissing her is home , she is home and with that thought you remember what you have hidden behind her back so with one final kiss you pull back to be met with a pout from her. 

Leah: your here, your actually here 

Y/n: I’m here baby I would never miss this looking at the smile on her face makes all the sneaking around worth it 

Leah: please tell me I have you for more than one night baby before you go back the pout comes back to her face again as she speaks Giggling at her you step back completely! Here goes nothing you think as you look into her eyes again how about forever you whisper never breaking eye contact, seeing the confusion on her have made you smile as you looked down at the box in your hands which was now between you and Leah, flicking your eyes back up seeing that hers where now fixed on the box in your hands as well it was go time so slowly you lower down onto one knee and open the box , hearing the gasp come from her  gave you the confirmation that the band you had chosen was the right choice! 

Y/n : le there is nothing I could say right now that would be any different to anything I have told you every day for the past 4 years but what I will say is how proud I am to be yours baby, every day with you is the best day of my life letting out a shaky breath as you see the tears in her eyes before you carry on and I want that for the rest of our lives, so Leah Williamson OBE you give her a cheeky smirk as the room fills with laughter , will you do me the honour of marrying me? Holding your breath for the whole 0.2 of a second it takes before you hear her say yes yes a million times yes , smiling with the tears running down both your faces you pull the ring from the box and finally put it on her finger as she pulls you up into a bruising kiss. 

You hear the cheers in the room, the clapping and banging on tables but all you feel is her , your finance , your Leah , your home! It’s just you two in the bubble of whispered words between the two of you consisting of i love yous, don’t ever leave again and I can’t wait to make you my wife , everything in that moment is just perfect! 

**************************

Hours later after food , champagne, a lot of laughter and more love than you could imagine, you are standing back beside your finance at the side of the room arms wrapped around each other just watching your friends and family around you. Turning to Leah you decide to take the teasing that’s been going on between the two of you for over an hour now to the next level,

Y/n: I booked us into a hotel for the next 2 nights so I hope you have no plans for tomorrow you say while looking her up and down because I have no plans on leaving that hotel room tomorrow. Watching as her eyes darken on front of you you step a little closer to her so you can whisper in her ear and just so you know earlier wasn’t the only time I plan on dropping to my knees for you my queen 

And with that Leah walked away and started saying goodbye to everyone you giggling behind her especially with the knowing looks you got from some people in the room but to hell with it you hadn’t had your girl in 9 weeks so you where going to make the most of every minute if that night and every night for the rest of your life with your queen ! 

[laurenfoxmakesthings]

ID: A thread of tweets by PinkRangerLB, a trans lawyer, that say the following.

"We in the LGBTQ+ community must understand that our dead were real people. Vital, awake, worlds unto themselves, like us. They didn’t live and die for the sake of our learning, but they have a lot to teach.

I want to tell you about Hart Island and hope in the darkness. /1

When I say they were real people I mean I do not believe they are necessary sacrifices, or that our dead paid a cost for us. They loved, they feared, they had favorite TV shows and candy bars. They were here and it will never ever ever be okay that they’re gone. /2

They’re not symbols or metaphors. They had books to write, vacations to take, meals to cook, and the world would be better with them still in it. We aren’t enriched by death, but we can stand in their shoes and see the future. /3

Hart Island, if you don’t know, is where New York City buries bodies that aren’t claimed by a licensed funeral director. At the height of the AIDS epidemic funeral homes were urged not to embalm AIDS fatalities. /4

In New York, as elsewhere, stigma toward the queer community was at a level that even now it can be difficult to remember. Many queer people who died of AIDS had been disowned by their birth family because of their identity, their HIV status, or both. /5

To make matters worse, their partners and found families had no rights to their medical care or their bodies after they passed. The hateful families that could claim them often didn’t, and the families that loved them were powerless to see to their wishes. /6

You can read more about all this at the memorial’s website, here:

hartisland.net/aids_initiative

/7

You can feel their weight, can’t you? The absence is heavy. And it’s important we understand that weight, because it’s a flat fact that current attacks on LGBTQ+ rights, trans rights especially, will kill people. There will be more absence, and it is not okay. /8

And when we say we have hope we are not saying it’s okay that they will be gone.

None of this ignores intersectionalism, higher rates of infection in targeted communities, death rates higher still. When I say things *can* get better I am not ignoring that improvement favors /9

the privileged.

Things got better. ACT UP and other activist groups organized and gained ground through community building, mutual aid, and grassroots action. Culturally, the tide began to turn. Federal action by Reagan and then Clinton contributed very little /10

(and in fact often caused harm). Direct action by activists galvanized AIDS research and the tide turned with very little government help.

In New York City, the death rate for HIV/AIDS patients fell by 62% from 2001 to 2012. So here’s what I’m saying. We’ve been seeing /11

an escalating backlash against LGBTQ people for years now. It gets very easy for us to come to expect the worst case scenario. Trump won, states are attacking trans kids, Roe was overturned. So now we say WHEN the Supreme Court overturns gay marriage, WHEN a national /12"

abortion ban passes, WHEN trans healthcare for adults gets criminalized.

And don’t get me wrong, those are all very real threats. We have to fight like hell. I am not pretending that times aren’t dark, that people won’t die, or that it will ever be okay that our people will /13

suffer and die. But things can, and do, get better when we fight, when we look after each other. The tide will not inevitably turn, but *we* can turn it. We can say that when the wall finally fell, our hands were there, pulling it down brick by brick. /14

And those we lost, if we remember them, honor them, we are their hands too. /15"

[thebrightestwitchofherage]

Responding to yet more unhinged Anti zionists arguments

Because I am not going to waste my precious time and energy on replying to each ignorant person who believes Hamas are a "brave resistance group"

For the millionth time: I do not support the genocide of Palestinians when I say Israelis shouldn't die. I am not deflecting or denying anything, I am making posts about how I and other Israelis have been impacted by October 7th and the war ever since. I am allowed to mourn my people.

Released female Israeli hostages aren't "weaponizing Feminism". Just because some were "only" sexually assaulted and threatened with rape, doesn't mean others aren't raped. Israeli women were targeted on October 7th. Their assault, mutilation, and violent rape were all planned. Hamas terrorists who were caught and interrogated have said so themselves in published recorded interrogations. *** Regarding Mia Shem- I've said before: mocking her appearance isn't making you the great humane person you think you are. I've had some nutjob tell me "Oh well in an interview she said she was only groped and others were raped. She's using feminism and things people care about in order to gain sympathy." She was: -Kidnapped from a party and shot. -Operated on by a veterinarian while in captivity for over 50 days. -Starved ,beaten, mocked , groped and sexually assulted while constantly threatened with being raped. And you're mocking her. Wow that is a new low. Believe Jewish women.

You are constantly backing up your "facts" and statistics with un-credible sources. Let me make this clear one final time: Al Jazeera = racist and antisemitic supports terrorism There isn't a Gaza Ministry of Health- it's Hamas.

Palestinians and Hamas specifically are very racist towards Afro-Palestinian / black people. A quick Google search will lead you to this:

Anti-Black racism in Palestine

The State of Palestine has a community of Afro-Palestinians, many of whom are descendants of the victims of the historical Slavery in Palestine, which ended in the 20th-century.[43]

Racism against African Americans in Palestinian media (Wikipedia)

Former U.S. Secretary of State Condoleezza Rice, has been the subject of some viciously racial personal attacks, alongside vociferous criticism of her policies.[44] These included an anti-black racist cartoon in Palestinian Authority's controlled Press Al Quds. The New York Times reported in 2006:

Her comment that the Israel-Lebanon war represented the "birth pangs of a new Middle East"— coming at a time when television stations were showing images of dead Lebanese children — sparked ridicule and even racist cartoons. A Palestinian newspaper, Al Quds," which "depicted Ms. Rice as pregnant with an armed monkey, and a caption that read, "Rice speaks about the birth of a new Middle East.[45]

The Palestinian media has used racist terms including "black spinster" and "colored dark skin lady."[46][47]

.... The African Palestinians who now live in the two compounds near al-Aqsa mosque have called the area home since 1930.[12] They have experienced prejudice, with some Palestinian Arabs[21] referring to them as "slaves" (abeed) and to their neighbourhood as the "slaves' prison" (habs al-abeed), and their colour has led to objections against them marrying Palestinians with lighter skin.[9][3] According to Mousa Qous, director of the African Community Society and a former member of the PFLP, "Sometimes when a black Palestinian wants to marry a white Palestinian woman, some members of her family might object." Interracial marriage with Afro-Palestinians has become more common in recent years.[8] In colloquial Palestinian Arabic, standard usage prefers the word sumr (dark colour) over sawd, which has an uncouth connotation.[22]

-For further reading I found this research paper to be very detailed: https://d-nb.info/1204258597/34

*** I have to mention this as well since some anti-Zionist brought up MLK as an example for their argument against Israel: you clearly have no idea what you're talking about... he was a Zionist!

Jews and African Americans have historically been allies in their struggles for equality. He literally wrote an open letter titled "Letter to an Anti-Zionist friend", explaining why he supports Zionism. Do your research.

5. Gaza hasn't been under Israel's control since 2006, it is controlled by Hamas! Before that, it was governed by Fatah, Another terrorist organization (Hamas killed all of the Fatah members when they came to power). Hamas = terror organization leaching off the Palestinian people. They want to kill all Jews and are against everything that represents the West. UWNRA - Is filled with Hamas terrorists. UN & ICRC - Both have a long history of being biased against Jews and have failed the Jewish people once again.

6. Israelis don't deserve to die just because they are Israeli. They are not privileged to have a government that (relative to Hamas) cares about their civilians.

7. "From the river to the sea" Is a genocidal chant calling for the death of all Jews / Israelis. The final solution / one solution = killing all Jews, holocaust. Intifadas aren't peaceful or inspiring resistance. It's Terror attacks targeting civilians: Shootings, stabbings, lynchings, school buses exploding, etc.

I have an entire post explaining this, you're welcome to read it but the main takeaway should be: You don't get to decide what's anti-Semitic, Jews do. If Jews tell you this chant threatens them and is antisemitic- it is.

[gigglemugger]

The Naked and the Blind (or The Ballad of Meg Halsey).

Fandom: Re-Animator (Movies - Combs), Herbert West - Reanimator - H.P. Lovecraft.

Pairing: Herbert West/Meg Halsey

Rating: Explicit, or at the very least Mature.

Archive Warnings: Graphic depictions of violence.

Synopsis:

"Meg Halsey had a problem. In fact, she had several problems, the first of which, she acknowledges while looking at her semi empty living room, is that she can't afford to live alone anymore. The second one is that she doesn't wanna go back to her daddy's house again. This would be an inconceivable notion to her thirteen year old self, even her sixteen year old self, but at twenty five, she'd really choose living under the bridge first. Ok. Maybe not that." Meg Halsey is perfect: Beautiful, accomplished, a bright future doctor. She escaped her hometown and moved to New York, where she likely would have stayed forever. After her mother dies, though, she is forced to move back to Arkham and face everything she wanted to leave behind. --- A.K.A I made a tumblr post about how Crampton/Combs are romantically involved in all of their collabs, got replies and decided to write down a suggestion of "what if Meg was the protagonist, not Dan?" Also I did the cop-out summary thing and pasted the first paragraph of the fic. It's highway robbery. Criminal (I'm sorry).

Thanks to @resonanteye and @sugarsweetnightmareee for helping me shape this up in the replies!

Word Count: Multi Chapter, so far 2,561 published, 19,701 written at the time of publication.

Chapter Count: 1/? (likely 9).

AO3 Tags: I uhhh......... I have no idea what I made it started with one tumblr post then one reply and here we are, I included other works by Lovecraft here and rounded Arkham up and then ran, Character Study, In a way, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - No Dan Cain, he doesn't exist, Danbert shippers cry I get it, Canon-Typical Violence, Animal Death, Eventual Romance, Slow Romance, Slow Burn, Slow Build, Eventual Smut?, maybe? - Freeform, this fic is an affront to god just like herbert's reagent, Not Beta Read.

Language: English.

CW: Meg went through some trauma. Dead parents, dead cat. She also helps kill her dad later on, considering, so. It's a heavy fic, but if you liked the movie you'll be fine.

AO3 link.

AO3 Notes (yes, they're huge, bear with me): This is an AU about Meg Halsey. I always wanted to write this because in every single Combs/Crampton collaboration, they play lovers (Castle Freak, From Beyond, the Evil Clergyman) EXCEPT FOR in Reanimator, so I made a tumblr post saying I'd like to explore a Meg/Herbert thing solely because of that (and I've only seen it being done one other time, which made me wanna take a personal shot at it). This post was WAY more popular than I expected (it didn't hit the hundreds, but it hit like 20+ notes when I expected like 1 and it being a comment of "are you insane?" with nothing else), so I decided to take it seriously. Then someone suggested I make a version where Meg is the main character, no Dan, no nothing and I thought that was a really interesting idea and ran with it.  I made several notes (like four pages) about Meg's character and realized that she’s an amazing, incredibly accomplished ball of air. They made her have good instincts, a good brain, be helpful, be sweet, and then gave her zero personality. This isn’t her movie, so the first thing I did in this AU was scramble around with her brains and give her a will to live for something. The second thing I did was to scramble around with her brains enough so she’d have ambition.  The third one was to scramble around with her brains enough she’d have a crush on West—who is her equal here. I'm not saying this relationship won't go into some toxic patterns, but so does Danbert, though I understand the implications. It's more like a double edged sword, though.  When I say this is an AU, I mean it’s an AU for sure. I changed a lot of plot points, and switched things around, because it turns out that having Meg as a protag changes a lot on its own. I personally think that Herbert liked Dan for three reasons: He was beautiful, smart and incredibly gullible. Here he likes Meg because she's smart, ambitious and much more like him than others would think. She doesn't take bullshit, though. Scenes are maintained but go different directions, etc. Meg also went through trauma and transformation, which will be unpacked, and though she externally acts like the Meg we know, most of the time, she's not. She had like a Veronica Mars esque transformation, minus the REAL TRAGEDIES of Veronica Mars.  I decided to name this a ballad cause I always name things ballads and start with the definition of the word cause I’m pretentious and like to make it seem as if it’s not ‘cause of the ballad of John and Yoko. In this case, though, I decided to just call it the ballad of Meg Halsey, instead of the ballad of Herbert and Meg, or Halsey and West, because this fanfic is very much about Meg—she deserves it.  The Naked and the Blind comes from that line from Every Me Every You by Placebo (like the naked leads the blind, I know I’m selfish, I’m unkind). It felt fitting. I also included two characters of Lovecraft lore which will be useful throughout the fic (and possible sequel in which I take the bones of bride of reanimator and completely reshape it), Asenath Waite and Edward Derby, from The Thing on the Doorstep. I also mention the Pickmans, Necronomicons, all of that. I think I'm going to use Welsey as a ship name for now, though I'm sure someone else somewhere in the world has already come up with a ship name for them. I also named the Playlist I made for them this. Very normal behavior.  I have seven chapters written, almost at the end of the fic as a whole, and I’ll try to upload one every Monday. We’ll see.

1. Sucker love is heaven sent.

Meg Halsey had a problem. In fact, she had several problems, the first of which, she acknowledges while looking at her semi empty living room, is that she can't afford to live alone anymore. The second one is that she doesn't wanna go back to her daddy's house again. This would be an inconceivable notion to her thirteen year old self, even her sixteen year old self, but at twenty five, she'd really choose living under the bridge first. Ok. Maybe not that.

Here's a picture of Meg Halsey's life one year ago: A happy medical student in New York, with her own room and roommate at one of the dorm houses. Not a sorority girl like her mother gushed about her being when she was twelve, but still friendly towards everyone. Her hair was a little shorter, less gruffy, definitely bobbed, and she probably looked serene. Medical students aren't by definition serene, but she hadn't majorly fucked up. She got high grades, was the second best in her class which was full of men, and she was proud of herself.

Then her mother died. The rest was probably history, or easily deductible.

Savings had existed, but living in Arkham was more expensive than she remembered. Her dad wanted to pay for the house, but she refused because she knew what that entailed. He also wanted her to move back with him, but that would also mean other things: You don't need to pay rent, but you'll have to cook, clean, take care of affairs and be your mother. She was shocked he hadn't sent for her when she was dying, but then it had been so fast that maybe he didn't have the time.

“Don't worry daddy, it's OK,” she had said with a smile, eyeing the wine. She couldn't drink in front of him unless it was a special occasion, like a thirteen year old. “I'm just gonna have to find a roommate.”

It had been a week ago, at that house that smelled of death. Wood, carpets of history, several footprints of doctors, her mother and all the versions of herself.

I wish I could have that drink…

“Hmm…” Yes. The characteristic Dean Halsey “Hm.” The same he had for his employees when he needed to convince them of something. Here we go… “I'm not sure it's safe for you to invite a stranger into your house, Meggie.”

“I had a stranger in my house, remember? My roommate in college.” A nice girl, who never got into trouble, she had told her mother in her semi-weekly calls, which was a lie. Becca was a protester who was always in and out of jail because of fights with the cops. Still, that meant Meg had quiet nights to study, or contemplate the lights on in places that hadn't been Arkham.

“I still don't know about that, sweetheart. Maybe you should move back in for a while…”

“Are you alright, honey?” Her mother's voice resonated in her head. Last phone call before disaster. She remembered the clothes she had been wearing: Light sweater, jeans, boots. A Meg Halsey classic. She remembered it was raining and that two people went behind her, two guys, talking. There was a light breeze from the door and they were gone.

“I'm alright, mom. You?”

“Meg,” Dr. Harrod said. Hospital. Residence. Meg was holding onto her scalpel too tightly. “Maybe you need a break.”

“I'm fine.”

Another picture of Meg Halsey’s life: Prodigy. Brilliant. Bright smile, beautiful blue eyes. She was a perfect specimen of what you would call a girl: Polite, traditional, good. She never stayed out past eight, she never went with boys that much, she never strayed from her studies. She wanted to be whatever her dad thought was best, whatever her mother thought would make her proud.

Meg had goals and ambitions, sure, but she also wanted other things. She watched her parents at the table, while cutting her meat. They were always smiling, laughing easily. All of it. She wanted it all. She even thought she had met a boy, her last high school boyfriend, traditional all the way, very nice and Christian upper middle class. Then…

The television was on, showing the news and Meg bit her lip. She looked at her nails, looked at the carpet and then at her cat, roaming around. “I'm not even going to have money to feed you at this rate,” she said when her beloved Rufus came to her lap. She put her face on his back gently. “God…”

Not turning back to the house, she'd have to find a roommate, one that she wouldn't be afraid would murder her in her sleep. Maybe she needed some coffee. Maybe she needed a million dollars.

She looked at the clock on the wall, the one that looked like Felix the cat, which she had in her bedroom at ten. The eyes went back and forth, freaking her mother out. It still had the stain of when she tried to paint it pink with glitter nail polish. Most importantly, it told her it was almost time to leave. Harrod would be going up and down looking for her and she had morgue duty, which was surely a lot for her muscles and she didn't look forward to it—morgue duty being that now it was the norm that someone else other than the attending intern doctor take the body downstairs, after an incident occurred (no more was mentioned about such an incident).

She wouldn't let her colleagues say she was using her status as the Dean's daughter to get out of good honest work.

However, she would have to look at Hill… He was always there testing his weird pen…

“Ouch!” She shrieked, looking at her hand and seeing the blood. “Oh, Rufus, get off!” Rufus did so, apparently understanding he shouldn't bite her and that she'd be rightfully pissed. She had to admit it was effective in bringing her back to the scene, though. It was a documentary which aired now, about a fishing town with a strange, rare disease. She had heard about it, and should be more interested considering, but frankly all she wanted was that coffee and a shower.

It was a pleasant afternoon in Arkham, her birth city. A strange city to be brought up in, with a deep history of the occult, but with a pristine, ivy league college in the form of the Miskatonic University. Meg stepped out of her car, chilly. She was wearing boots, a sweater and her hair was up. It was getting longer. Her dad almost went insane when she wanted to leave Arkham for New York, especially for medicine if she so insisted on studying that.

“A more womanly course would be interesting…”

“What's more womanly than curing people? Than being a healer?” Her mother waved her hand.

“I'm just not sure, Meg. Your dad thinks the same… Maybe it'd be best…”

“Would you have gone if you could? If you could do anything, would you? I can. I wanna go to New York.”

Every time in the past few months that she felt the air of the hospital wafting on her, sterilized and reminiscent of all the times she went to visit her dad, it was sort of like defeat. Not that she'd let that bring her down. She did go to New York after all. It was temporary, just until her dad got back on her feet.

Until he met someone, Becca said. A hot, pretty new thing to screw.

“Halsey,” Harrod said, standing by reception. Was she waiting? “Right on time. You need to go to 106, now. A patient just died, you need to take her down.”

At least she wasn't the one who killed her. Hooray for small miracles.

Scrubs became her, she thought—not that having vain thoughts was her hallmark—but they were not better than suits by a mile. She felt extremely underdressed in a second, walking into the morgue, at least compared to the austere, small man checking the beakers.

“Meg?” The man raised his head. The second man, being the corpse, stayed thankfully very still. “What are you doing here?”

“Pushing a body?” She laughed a little, to make things light, but she knew she had been busted. A few years ago it'd be unprecedented to go behind his back on anything, but now... Besides, it wasn't drugs, it was just a dead guy for Christ's sake.

He looked concerned right away.

“You're too small to be doing this kind of work. You'll kill yourself.”

“Honestly daddy—” she could feel the ears of the stranger perking up at that. Great going, Meg. Tell every single stranger about it. “It's fine. I can do it.” He paused and pursed his lips.

“Certainly one of your classmates…”

“I said I'm alright,” she smiled a little towards him, to mitigate any disrespect, before turning her attention completely to the left. “Who are you?” The small man looked up from a tag in one of the corpses.

“Oh, don't mind me. I'm sure I don't wanna interrupt family.” Her dad wouldn't pick up on the sarcasm, Meg knew, but she did. Her shoulders tensed, her eyes narrowed.

“Nonsense,” Dean Halsey began, well humored. “Mr. West, I'd like to introduce you to the most brilliant medical student in this room…” She looked away.

“Stop it, dad,” Meg smiled her brightest smile to hide her discomfort, as usual. West smiled back, in contempt.

“Oh, does she have a name?”

“I'm Megan. Halsey.” She didn't bother stretching her hand, she didn't wanna touch him.

“Pleased to meet you, Ms. Halsey.” I don't think so.

“West just came from Switzerland. He was doing independent research for Dr. Gruber, before he died.” Meg knew the story, heard it through the grapevine, but no one knew any details.

Gruber was a brilliant doctor, though. She had read his most recent paper on brain death, and all the other ones he wrote a lot in New York. A page turner, Gruber—by medical paper standards, at least.

“So, you studied death?” She asked. His ears perked up again.

“Yes, I have.” Well dressed, prim and curt. Fun. I'll love having him in class.

“Alan,” a third voice filled the place, coming from the adjacent room, the one where he no doubt had been procuring a corpse from. Meg involuntarily twisted her nose and pretended she had an itch. She stopped on his feet. “Nice to see you down here, Ms. Halsey.”

“Well I'm glad, cause here I am, every Tuesday.” Next time tell him when you go out to do your laundry.

“Definitely more than your father comes down here. We haven't been seeing him in a while.”

“I was just showing our newest student, Herbert West here, the not-so-grand-tour.” He always made that joke when he brought people down. Meg saw him do it at least twice and heard about it four other ones. “This should interest you, Carl. He worked with Hans Gruber.” While her dad introduced Hill, and all of his prowess to get research grants somehow, probably with that freaky pen he carried, Meg was thinking briefly about how was Herbert West working for Gruber, fully, even as a student.

“I know your work Dr. Hill. Quite well.” Meg raised her head. “Your theory on the location of the will in the brain is… Interesting, though derivative of Dr. Gruber's research in the early 70s.”

She knew that. She needed a dictionary to read his most obscure work, but German and English were similar enough, she got by.

“So derivative, in fact, that in Europe it's considered plagiarized. And your support of the 12 minute limit on the life of the brain stem after death…”

“...Six to twelve minutes, Mr…?”

Meg wanted to leave.

“West. Herbert West. Frankly, Dr… Hill? Your work on brain death is outdated.”

“Carl,” her dad interrupted and Meg looked away from the scene. Frankly, Hill gave her the creeps, sort of, and seeing him that angry was unpleasant. Suck it up, ok? You know him since you were at least twelve, it's fine.

You were always soft.

“...Megan and I would love it if you came to dinner.” Wait what?

“What?” She repeated out loud. Herbert turned his bright hazel, poisonous eyes towards her. She straightened her back. “I'm sorry, dinner? When?

“Thursday,” West answered for the others. He put his hands on his hips. “Maybe pushing bodies around really isn't for someone as small as you, Ms. Halsey.”

“I'm fine.”

“You might kill yourself.”

“Dad, dinner, Thursday? I'm not sure I can make it.”

What else are you gonna do? Your friends don't talk to you anymore since you left for New York to hang out with feminists, artists, and bohemians, leaving them here with babies and husbands.

“Well, I'm sure you'll make an exception,” Hill said, looking straight at her. “A lovely, amazing student such as yourself should take some time off every now and then. Celebrate.” She hated when he looked straight at her. She could feel her dad and West observing in the sidelines.

“Sure,” Meg found herself saying, hands tight against the steel of the gurney, knuckles turning white. “I'll cook.”

You'll what?!

“Fantastic,” Hill finished, looking at Herbert next. “I'll see you in class, mr. West. Ms. Halsey.” He nodded his head and she smiled, closing her eyes.

Both Hill and her father left in what seemed to be a dream sequence, no doubt discussing the grant, and the autopsy room was silent once again.

Her head was throbbing. The walls and floors were gray, there was a corpse rotting in their midst, Meg took a deep breath—chemical and invigorating somehow.

“I take it you don't like Dr. Hill either.” She looked at West, whose eyes still shone. He approached her, footsteps echoing out. “How did you know I was studying death?”

“I'm a doctor, Mr. West. I read,” she released the gurney, feeling tired for the meal she'd have to cook, on top of studying. There was a beat before she could stop herself from asking “What happened between you and dr. Gruber?”

“What do you mean?” A slight twitch, a small movement of the lips. “Dr. Gruber had a lab accident that I was unfortunately too late to prevent.”

“I heard he was in his office when he died.” Another twitch.

“I'm sure you heard it wrong, with all due respect ms. Halsey.”

Chemical smells, corpses rotting, the smell of something burning—Hill's pen no doubt left crisp black flesh behind, and he did it on enough people in the morgue proper that it got to where she was. She looked at West for almost long enough she'd probably have his exact face and pose at that moment committed to memory, forever.

He looked at her, waiting for something to happen.

Her hands hurt from grasping the gurney for so long.

“I'm not doing so great, sweetie…” She had said. Two men talking behind her. Her dad and Hill were gone. West was there.

“I'm sorry I asked,” Meg finally gathered, headache suddenly subsiding, like it never was. “Sorry for your loss, he must have been a wonderful mentor.” West bowed slightly and Meg did the same before turning around and going through the doors.

[abaddonhotelguest]

THE COMPLETE TIMELINE OF HELL HOUSE LLC. (SO FAR)

Many, many, many days of effort into figuring this all out, and now its here! I did this for fun, but figured it might be something others are interested in for either fanfiction purposes or just to get the full story in order! Giving a fair warning that while I did rewatch and take notes on each individual movie and take a few days to get everything figured out, there could be some small mistakes, so I apologize in advance!!

Most dates were given for big events, but other things mentioned briefly I had to put in the relative spot, with some rough estimation. With large chunks of time, I wrote what happened throughout it in order to make it easier!

WARNING: SPOILERS FOR THE HELL HOUSE LLC FRANCHISE!

BETWEEN 1960 AND 1965  (exact dates unknown)

Andrew Tully, a deeply religious man, is living in Arkansas with his family. His young daughter Annabelle dies and Tully begins to wish for a way to bring her back. He leaves Arkansas to avoid a warrant for his arrest, leaving his remaining family behind. 

BETWEEN 1965 AND 1980 (exact dates unknown)

Tully moves to Clarksburg, West Virginia and meets two men, Thomas Rollins and Freddy Perkins, at a booth they run at the local fair. After joining Down-A-Clown, the three become fast friends and they create a cult whose goal is to go to the other side and come back/ enter the lake of fire. 

BETWEEN 1980 AND EARLY 1989 (exact dates unknown)

Tully, Freddy, and Thomas leave Clarksburg, West Virginia and move to Abaddon, Rockland County, New York. They build the hotel and hire locals, like Patrick Carmichael, to work there, recruiting people for their cult. The portal to hell, or Lake of Fire, is in the basement. 

JUNE 18, 1989

Patrick drives his sister Margaret to the city to drop her off for rehearsals for the play Faust. A drunk driver hits them and Margaret is pronounced dead upon arrival. Patrick survives but loses the ability to use his left arm, and he falls into a deep depression.

SEPTEMBER 4, 1989

Patrick is holding items from the Abaddon Hotel in his house, including the music sheet to Cold the Nightfall and the items from Down-A-Clown. He has Margaret’s bloody clothing and the featureless mask she had for her play on his dresser, and asks Catherine “what if someone told you they could bring her back?”  

BETWEEN SEPTEMBER AND OCTOBER 9, 1989 (exact dates unknown)

Guests from the Abaddon Hotel begin to disappear. Tully is questioned numerous times in regards to the disappearance of an 11 year old girl and her mother. Tully provides records stating they checked out, but his business does not recover from the rumors of foul play. He sends a note home to his employees demanding they all show up despite the hotel being closed.

OCTOBER 10, 1989

Tully and the employees of Abaddon Hotel commit suicide in the hotel. Tilly hangs himself in the dining room. Patrick Carmichael is arrested for fighting and brought to jail, missing the mass suicide, which he refers to as ‘crossing over.’ He provides a flipped confession where he states Tully kept photos and videos of what went on in the hotel, and that he kept them in the fridge. When he returns home, he has full use of his arm again. Eleanor and Catherine Carmichael are killed in their beds, and Patrick and Arthur Carmichael go missing. Patrick wears Tully’s clown suit and goes down to the basement of the Abaddon Hotel. 

DECEMBER 25, 1997

Mallet family home video reveals Jackson Mallet playing Cold the Nightfall. He tells his mother “The hotel opens in 2009. Tell everyone.” A deeper, demonic voice is heard in the background saying ‘The Abaddon Hotel.’

SEPTEMBER 28, 2003

The fair in Abaddon, Rockland County happens despite the disappearance of three girls in the last year. Multiple disappearances and injuries from something that came out of the corn field. Margot Bently is almost lured from the fairgrounds by Tully’s clown. 

2002 (exact date unknown)

Hell House LLC is founded by Alex Taylor, Andrew Macnamara, and Sara Havel. Paul O’Keefe and Tony Prescott are hired. 

2008 (exact date unknown)

Russell Wynn, billionaire by 25, is involved in a car crash. He is legally dead for two minutes and then brought back. According to those close to him, Russell was changed by this experience. 

BETWEEN MARCH 1 AND APRIL 2, 2009 (exact date not known)

Alex Taylor and Tully get into contact and Tully convinces Alex to invest in something. The investment, done with the company's money and not his own, goes bad, and he loses everything. 

BETWEEN APRIL 4 - 18, 2009

Tully ignores Alex’s phone calls for two weeks.

APRIL 18, 2009

Alex Taylor visits the Abaddon Hotel and has an angry conversation with Tully, revealing what he did. Tully convinces Alex to hold this year's haunted house in the Abaddon Hotel so he can avoid telling the group about the investment with the promise of going back to the city next year.

BETWEEN APRIL 19 AND AUGUST 22, 2009 (exact date not known)

Alex tells Mac what happened and swears him to secrecy before the group arrives at the diner where he tells them they won’t be hosting Hell House in the city this year. As they leave, Russell Wynn is seen in a booth near them. 

AUGUST 23, 2009 TO OCTOBER 7, 2009

The Hell House group goes through Abaddon for the first time and a week later begin sleeping there. Hell House LLC sets up in the Abaddon Hotel and experience hauntings. Paul is taken and comes back ‘possessed’ after one night. Everyone but Alex experiences a haunting though his notebook reveals his declining mental health due to being in the hotel.

OCTOBER 8, 2009

Opening night of Hell House. 15 people die, numerous injured. 7 bodies never recovered, including some of the Hell House crew. Town officials and police say it was a ‘technical malfunction.’ Alex, Tony, and Paul’s bodies were the only ones found out of the crew. 

OCTOBER 16, 2009

Joey Shefler hangs himself after refusing to talk to police about October 8th. 

BETWEEN NOVEMBER 2009 - DECEMBER 2010 (exact date unknown)

Martin Cliver, a journalist, breaks into the Abaddon Hotel and takes photos and posts them on the internet. Photos of dried blood pools and bloody hand prints throughout the house, including basement steps, prove that it was not a gas leak like the town had been saying. 

2014 (exact date unknown)

Jessica Fox, Molly Reynolds, and David Morris are the people behind THE INSIDE, a blog dedicated to uncovering corruption. In 2014, Jessica breaks a story about kick-backs and pay-to-play deals in the New York State assembly, resulting in many senators going to prison. 

BETWEEN SEPTEMBER - NOVEMBER 2014 (exact date unknown)

Sara Havel, previously missing, reaches out to Diane Graves for an interview. Diane is the director and producer of the documentary ‘Inside Hell House,’ in which she is currently filming. Sara produces the tapes they filmed at the Abaddon, and after answering some questions, tells Diane to meet her at her room, 2C, and convinces her to go to the Abaddon. Diane and her cameraman Jonathan Miller go missing. Mitchell Cavanaugh goes through the Hell House footage and discovers what really happened. 

OCTOBER 6, 2015 

Mitchell releases Hell House LLC to the world. 

BETWEEN OCTOBER 7, 2015 AND OCTOBER 7, 2017 (exact dates unknown)

A teenage boy named Cameron livestreams himself breaking into the Abaddon on Facebook. He sees the legs of a figure (presumably Tully) on the steps. He says “Sorry, I’ll go now,” and then proceeds to livestream until his phone dies, never moving from that position. Police go to find him and find no trace, including his phone. 

MAY 7, 2015

A teenage boy records himself entering the Abaddon Hotel. He captures the voice of Sara Havel.

AUGUST 5, 2016

Jackson Mallet goes missing after breaking into the abandoned Abaddon Hotel. 

SEPTEMBER 20, 2016

A couple, Nate and Adam, pick up a hitch-hiker and bring her to the Abaddon Hotel. They follow her inside and she attacks them in the basement, revealing a demonic face. The girl is believed to be 18-year-old Savannah Collins whose body was never recovered after she was rumored to have hitch-hiked to the opening night of Hell House. 

OCTOBER 8, 2016

Jackson’s mother receives a text from Jacksons phone reading “Come to the Abaddon Hotel. They’re all in the dining room. They have no eyes,” The last sentence is repeated numerous times. Following the text is a video of Jackson Mallet's apparent last moments. He is running through the Abaddon Hotel asking for help as the demon cult members are seen around. He says “They’re all still here. They want me to go with them. They’re all in hell. They’re all with him.” Tully is sending these.

OCTOBER 22, 2016

Jackson Mallet’s mother receives an email of a video. The video is of 2C in the Abaddon Hotel. The room is empty and in the background you can hear muffled screams, presumably Jackson, as well as Cold The Nightfall on piano.

BETWEEN OCTOBER 1-5, 2017

Morning Mysteries, led by Suzy McCombs, is filming a part of the documentary they are making after 8 years. They capture a demon cult member on the balcony. 

OCTOBER 6, 2017

Morning Mysteries interviews Mitchell Cavanaugh, Arnold Tassleman, and Brock Davis and they discuss Hell House. Arnold Tassleman is currently in a legal battle with Mitchell due to his belief Mitchell has caused damage to the town of Abaddon. At the end of the segment, Jessica calls and tells them she has physical proof of Tully’s involvement with the missing guests, Hell House, and the town's involvement. As she hangs up, she says “Mitchell, if you want to know what happened to Diane, come find me.” As the interview ends, an assistant to Morning Mysteries tells Suzy that Arnold Tassleman never actually showed up due to a car accident. 

OCTOBER 7, 2017

Mitchell and THE INSIDE meet and discuss how to get into the Abaddon Hotel, then record at Mitchell’s apartment. Jessica reveals her ‘physical proof’ is a police transcript she was sent in the mail anonymously. It holds Patrick Carmichaels flipped confession, revealing tapes and evidence in the fridge. The group goes to the bar after. Russell Wynn enters the bar as they leave.

OCTOBER 8 - 11, 2017

Mitchell, Jessica, Molly, David, Brock Davies, and his cameraman Malcolm arrive at the Abaddon Hotel. In the basement fridge, they find tapes related to the hotel (‘The Abaddon Hotel: From Construction to Completion,’ ‘Unaired Commercial’) as well as blueprints to the hotel and other tapes. One of said tapes is the meeting between Alex and Tully in April. Tully reveals he has been sending videos (the ones featured in HH2,) to ‘a poor stranger,’ that being Russel Wynn. All 6 remain missing.

OCTOBER 12, 2017

Jessica Fox is found walking down the side of the road in confusion with injuries. Once in the police station, it's revealed she is dead and being used by Tully as a means to lure people to the hotel like Sara Havel. 

BETWEEN 2017 AND 2018 (exact date unknown)

Billy Braddock posts on Facebook about going to the Abaddon Hotel to burn it down and is never heard from again.

BETWEEN AUGUST 1 TO SEPTEMBER 13, 2018 (exact date unknown)

Russel Wynn buys the Abaddon Hotel and saves it from being torn down. He moves his New York City based live-theater trope ‘Insomnia’ to the hotel to perform a version of Faust. Vanessa Shepard, the new host of Morning Mysteries, is invited and given full access to the set of Insomnia for behind the scenes filming and interviews with the cast and crew. Russell wants her to record the process up to opening night. 

SEPTEMBER 13 TO OCTOBER 2, 2018 

Insomnia prepares for opening night October 1st. After a confrontation with Father Paulis, Vanessa learns that at midnight Russell Wynn will be liquidating his assets and having him disperse it into various charities. The gateway is opened and then destroyed by Russell and the Abaddon Hotel burns to the ground, leaving a few smoldering remains. Russell was able to close the portal due to his brief death in 2008. All tour goers and members of Insomnia were found in the corn field behind the hotel safe and confused. Those who died in the hotel before that night are stuck there but in purgatory. Russel’s hotel room is revealed to have dozens of hours of footage regarding the hotel, including what happened to the previous Morning Mysteries group. 

BETWEEN OCTOBER 3, 2018 TO NOVEMBER 2021 (exact dates unknown)

A local antique shop takes in some items that survived the fire (including the grandfather clock) and puts them up for sale. The Documentary of HH2 is released. Margot Bentley and Bradley Moynahan create the website NetSleuths.com, a place for amateur detectives to work and solve cases with a focus on unsolved/cold cases. Margot and her girlfriend Rebecca often go and stay at the places she is investigating, and she records everything. She gets into contact with Donald and secures 5 nights at the Carmichael Manor. Margot’s mother calls her and tells her that her brother, Chase, has been missing for two days. Despite taking his medication, Chase see’s a disappearing and reappearing 11-year-old girl asking him to help her find her mom and that they’re staying at a hotel. The girl tells Chase to ‘Go with Margot.’ The next day, Margot invites Chase to Carmichael Manor. 

NOVEMBER 6 - 11, 2021

Margot, Rebecca, and Chase stay at the Carmichael Manor. They find a connection between the house and the Abaddon Hotel via the antique shop. Chase goes missing, and on November 11, 2021 at 2 am, Rebecca and Margot are killed in the manor. 

BETWEEN DECEMBER 2021 TO MARCH 2022 (exact date unknown)

The Rockland County officials reveal they are planning on reopening the fair now that the Abaddon Hotel is destroyed.

[xstrawberryshiftsx]

MY APOCLYPSE DR

My apocalypse dr is set 9 years after the first zombie outbreak happened, it’s a bit like the LAST OF US in the sense of how a few cities (In my dr its only one though) are fenced off and liveable! The virus spread through all of North America but stopped spreading from there.

I live where New York City used to be though its only Brooklyn now, its split into 7 parts (one-der, second, third way, central, fourth, fiver, six) and central is where the richest people live. After the apocalypse Brooklyn became a lot like the 1920’s (gangs, speakeasy, richer got richer, poorer got poorer).

My 1st job position: seller/collector/spy/outsider: when I was 8 the boss found me and took me under his wing

specifics: I help find information for him/get supplies from the outside world and sell them/go undercover and spy

extra: No one other than the boss and a few others know my real identity everyone just calls me ‘Ghost’. I’m very famous and people all over the city know me as that because of my mask and uniform

Uniform:

visuals:

My 2nd job position: I work as a dancer/singer for speakeasy’s. When I was 14 my boss offered me the position, so I had enough money to live

outfits:

Visuals:

ZOMBIES:

the zombies have three phases:

PHASE ONE: norms- they look and act normal other then paranoid and slightly violent, they can still infect you if they attack but mostly harmless if you do not engage

PHASE TWO: wanders-The virus has taken over and they are no longer conscious they are extremely aggressive and will go out of there way to find humans (they are the most dangerous) have the same physical traits as human except they cannot feel pain (can be killed any way a human could)

PHASE THREE: enders- Now fully zombie, completely dead, pretty chill wont go out of their way to kill or hunt humans unless they see them/notice them, can only be killed with destruction of brain, are slow but should still be treated with caution

some of you may have seen my earlier post here

if your a mutual send me a dm if you want to add yourself! and here is a link if you guys want to add your oc's to this dr (please I need a love interest I AM BEGGING YOU)

@zipperrants @thespookyshifter

[persevereforahappyending]

Maybe in Another Life |16|

Pairing: Clarisse La Rue x Hunter of Artemis!Reader

Summary: You are a Hunter of Artemis, but you start to question what you truly want when you meet Clarisse and get to know her.

Warnings: Slight The Last Olympian Spoilers, Stab Wound, Dying, Talks of Dying

Word Count: 3k+

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist

ch. 1 | ch. 2 | ch. 3 | ch. 4 | ch. 5 | ch. 6 | ch. 7 | ch. 8 | ch. 9 | ch. 10 | ch. 11 | ch. 12 | ch. 13 | ch. 14 | ch. 15 | ch. 16 | ch. 17

You tried to open your eyes, but your eyelids were just so heavy. You couldn’t remember a time you felt so exhausted, your body felt like it was filled with lead. It felt like all your energy was focused on breathing. You slowly tried to open your eyes again, as they finally cracked open you were met with a bright white light.

Everything was blurry, you could only make out shadows as they passed across the light. You closed your eyes, intending to try and clear the blurriness. You weren’t sure how long it took but every time you closed your eyes even though you were just trying to blink it took forever to open them again. When your vision was finally clear you saw you were in some building, a few other demigods shuffling about, it sounded like there was screaming coming from outside, though it sounded far away.

“Wh-” you tried speaking, your voice sounding drier and raspier than it ever had before.

“Easy,” a soft voice came.

You looked around trying to find the voice which turned out to be a mistake because instantly your world started spinning. You needed to close your eyes again, you didn’t open them until it felt like everything had stopped moving. You slowly opened them again, expecting to be thrown back into a spinning world but instead you were met with the sight of Clarisse.

“Easy,” she said again. Her voice sounded so soft; you didn’t like when her voice was that soft, it usually meant something bad had happened.

Your mind was still fuzzy, but everything was slowly coming back to you. You had been fighting, there was a demigod on Luke’s side, he was about to stab Thalia in the back. You winced at the reminder of a dagger going through you, you glanced down, seeing your shirt ripped and bloodied.

“Thalia?” You rasped out.

“She’s okay,” Clarisse whispered, lightly running her fingers through your hair. “She had to go back out there, the fights still going.”

“Why are you here?” It was truly exhausting trying to keep your eyes open, you never knew how heavy your eyelids were until now. You closed your eyes, taking short breaths as you tried not to wince in pain every time. “What?” You asked, slowly opening your eyes when you realized Clarisse hadn’t answered you.

“You were stabbed,” she said, shaking her head like she couldn’t even believe you asked her that.

“But you’re needed out there.” You weren’t sure how long you were out but if the fight was still going on then Clarisse needed to be out there, any other time she would be out there.

“I’m not leaving your side.”

“I’m not really sure I’m getting better.”

You didn’t miss the way Clarisse’s eyes shined with tears once again, maybe you were becoming delirious from the blood loss. “Don’t say that,” she shook her head.

“I’m on borrowed time,” you gave her a sad smile. There were only so many healers, there was only so much they could do, if one hadn’t already seen you then there was no way one would. You were okay with that, there were other demigods that needed attention, ones who hadn’t lived a thousand years already. “I’ve lived enough lifetimes.”

“I don’t care,” Clarisse’s voice cracked. “You’re not dying today. I refuse.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle, not even caring about the pain. “Sadly, power over the dead isn’t something Ares can control.”

You’re entire body shook, shivering more than you ever had in the middle of winter. You knew you weren’t actually cold though, there wasn’t a reason to be. You were in New York in the middle of summer, you were also dripping with sweat. Despite the fact that your entire body was shivering you occasionally felt Clarisse dabbing a cloth on your forehead.

“You’re not allowed to die on me,” Clarisse whispered. “First Silena,” she choked back a sob. You could see her trying to keep it together, Clarisse was doing everything in her power to not completely breakdown right now. “Now, you,” she shook her head, “I don’t think I could take it.”

You looked up at her through tired eyes. “I’m sorry,” you rasped out.

You didn’t know what else to say, you couldn’t change what happened to Silena, you couldn’t bring her back. There was also no way you’d take back what you did. You knew the risks when you put yourself between Thalia and that demigod. You would make the same decision again and again; Thalia was alive and that’s what mattered. You hated that Clarisse had to go through this though, you hated seeing someone you cared for be in so much pain.

“I thought you always won,” Clarisse said. “Daughter of Nike, you’re meant to win, that’s your thing.”

You let out a silent chuckle, which required much more energy than it ever should have. “I did win,” you let out in a tired breath. “I protected my lieutenant, that’s my job.”

Clarisse frowned. Artemis chose a lieutenant, someone who was her second and then you were their second, you were always meant to protect them. Even if it wasn’t your job to protect your lieutenant, you would still do it, you would always protect your lieutenant, or your goddess, or any of your sisters. Clarisse knew this, she knew it when she met you, you had talked about it, you guessed that didn’t make it any easier when something actually happened.

“Well, this is a fight you need to win. You need to fight for your life, I need you to fight for it.” she said. “That’s an order.”

“Sorry, boss,” you joked. “I don’t think I get a say in this one.”

Clarisse clenched her jaw. Ares was the god of war; his kids loved a fight. Ares nor his kids ever cared about winning or losing at the end of the day as long as the fight was good. However, this was a fight Clarisse couldn’t do, it was one you had to do all on your own and you knew the outcome was already decided for you, this was always going to be your fate one day.

Clarisse’s eyes snapped up, looking at something across the room. You started to turn your head to see what she was looking at but stopped when the simple movement exhausted you. You opened your mouth to just ask Clarisse what it was when she shot out of her seat and disappeared from your view. You cleared your throat, letting out a pained cough, your throat was so dry.

“Fix it!” came an angry voice. A second later Clarisse came back into view, though this time she was dragging some kid with her. She pointed down at you and shoved him forward.

“Clarisse-” the boy tried, somehow remaining calm despite Clarisse literally dragging him away from whatever he had been doing.

“Now, Solace!” she stepped forward, towering over him, intimidating him as best as she could.

The kid raised his hands and kneeled down next to you. “Hi,” he whispered. “My names Will.” Clarisse tapped her foot impatiently, arms crossed, and jaw clenched, as she glared at Will but remained otherwise silent. “Mind if I?” he pointed to your wound.

You nodded, that seemed to be all that you could actually manage at the moment. You felt Will lift up your shirt then peel back the bandage. He sucked in a breath; you hadn’t seen your injury yet but clearly it wasn’t good. You kept your eyes on him, watching as he flicked a glance up to Clarisse, clearly wanting to say something but opting not to. If he wanted to tell her your injury was too severe then you would say he made the right decision, Clarisse didn’t want to hear there was nothing he could do.

Will flicked his eyes from your wound to your face, meeting your gaze. His eyes widened for a split second, probably realizing you had been watching him, before he recovered, offering you a kind smile. He placed his hands just above your wound and quietly began singing a song in ancient Greek. You held your breath, watching as Will’s eyes never left your wound, his brow furrowed despite the soft song he was singing.

When the song ended, and Will took his hands away, you saw his face fall. You didn’t need him to look at you, you didn’t need him to say anything, you already knew, you could feel it, it hadn’t worked. Will finally looked up at you, his eyes soft. “I’m sorry,” he whispered with all the sympathy.

You nodded, returning the kind smile. “It’s okay,” you whispered. “Thank you.” You didn’t want him to feel guilty, he had tried his best. Even a child of Apollo couldn’t heal all injuries.

“Sorry?” Clarisse asked. “What do you mean sorry? Heal her!” she grabbed Will by his shirt, aggressively pulling him closer to her. “You have to heal her.” Though you knew she was still intimidating and would strike fear in most demigod’s eyes you didn’t see fear in Will’s, you only saw sadness.

“I can’t,” he said. He reached up, gently placing a hand on Clarisse’s and slowly eased her hands off of him. “I’m sorry,” he looked back down at you then back at Clarisse. “It’s not just a normal stab wound.” You furrowed your brow; the dagger had looked like a normal celestial bronze dagger, and you knew that was definitely what you were stabbed with. “I think there was some sort of poison on it.” You sucked in a breath, that would explain why your entire body ached, you weren’t just suffering from blood loss, but some sort of poison was slowly killing you as well. “A poison I can’t heal.”

Clarisse released her hold on Will, giving him a little shove. Will stumbled but he still didn’t seem angry. “I’m sorry,” he whispered again. Your eyes didn’t leave Clarisse, you saw her arms fall to her side, when she turned to face you again, you saw it, the realization that this was the end, she was going to lose you.

Clarisse got down so she could kneel next to you again. She rested a hand on your head and gently began running her hands through your hair, lightly scratching your scalp in the process. Your head snapped to the side when you felt someone grab your hand, your brow furrowing when you saw Will back at your side.

Will closed his eyes and a second later you let out a gasp, instant relief flooding through you. Clarisse looked from you then at Will questioningly. “I can’t heal you,” Will whispered. “But I can take some of your pain.”

“Thank you,” you whispered. You watched Will, seeing how he closed his eyes, his face contorted in pain. You knew a child of Apollo could take the pain from someone, but in doing so they took the pain for themselves. You wanted to send Will away, you were sure there were other people he could actually help but Will seemed committed on staying, you weren’t sure why, you didn’t even know the kid, maybe he was just friends with Clarisse or maybe he was just empathetic like most kids of Apollo.

You closed your eyes, enjoying the relaxing feeling of Clarisse running her fingers through your hair. As far as deaths went this definitely wasn’t the worst way to go. You would have preferred a more instant death, it would have been less painful, but at least you were being given the opportunity to say goodbye. Far too many demigods didn’t get that chance, most went off on a quest and just never returned, no one knowing what happened to them or how they died. A lot of demigods didn’t even make it to Camp Half-Blood, the majority of them were snatched up by monsters on their way there.

You weren’t sure how long it had been since you got stabbed but the war had been won. You didn’t know exactly what happened, but you could hear the cheers from the other demigods, the fighting and the sound of monsters had slowly died down, only to be filled with screams of joy. Wherever you were, remained quiet though, the Apollo kids quietly moving around to finish healing the injured, and demigods comforting each other on all the friends and siblings lost. You heard quick whispers about Percy and Annabeth beating Luke. Throughout it all though Clarisse remained by your side, she didn’t fight at the end of the war because she chose to stay by your side.

“It was supposed to be me,” Clarisse whispered. You furrowed your brow, looking up at her, it had been a while since she had last spoken. “I was supposed to die first.” You felt Wills fingers twitch in your hand but when you spared him a glance you saw his eyes were still closed, focusing solely on taking your pain. You knew he could hear both of you, but it was clear he was trying not to eavesdrop.

“Guess fate had other plans,” you rasped out. “Don’t worry,” you gave her the best smile you could manage. “I’ll be waiting for you in Elysium.”

Clarisse gave you a sad smile. “I’ll be there.” She hesitantly intertwined her hand in yours before slowly bringing your clasped hands to her mouth, giving your fingers a soft kiss.

“Better not show up too soon.” You narrowed your eyes at her. “Otherwise, I’ll be pissed.”

Clarisse let out a chuckle, but it quickly turned into a sob. She leaned down, resting her forehead against yours. You closed your eyes, just enjoying her presence. The two of you were broken out of your little bubble when you heard someone approaching.

When Clarisse pulled away you saw Thalia in front of you, limping slightly. Behind Thalia though was Artemis. You couldn’t help but let out a relieved sigh. You knew it had been a long shot, you weren’t sure how long the war would last, you weren’t sure how long it would take for the poison to kill you, but you were hoping you would have long enough to say goodbye to both of them but especially your goddess.

“Do you want me to give you a minute?” Will asked, breaking the silence.

You hesitated but eventually nodded. “Thank you,” you told Will again. You closed your eyes preparing yourself as Will released your hand. Despite knowing it was coming you couldn’t help but hiss, gasping as a wave of pain overtook you again.

Clarisse gave your hand a final squeeze before leaving your side for the first time. Clarisse was giving you your privacy with Artemis and Thalia, but she had just moved right outside the doorway, so you could still see her. As soon as Clarisse vacated your side Artemis filled the space, kneeling right next to you.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered.

Artemis rested a hand on your shoulder, giving it a comforting rub, as she shook her head. “You did good,” she said, nodding. “You fought bravely, you protected your sister,” she glanced over at Thalia. You nodded; tears began to fill your eyes, but you refused to let them fall. “Just as you always have.” She glanced down at your wound, her face falling. “Your death will be handled with honor; I will make sure of it, or Hades will feel my wrath.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle. Hades was powerful, he didn’t take many of the gods seriously, even his brothers at times. You knew your goddess though and she would raise hell to get what she wanted, especially when she set her mind to something, she was truly a force to be reckoned with.

“Now, none of that will be necessary,” a cocky voice came.

“What are you doing here?” Artemis said, clearly annoyed. You followed her gaze to see Apollo leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed and his usual smirk on his face.

“I heard my favorite Hunter was trying to die on me.” He pushed off the doorframe and made his way to your side. “And I just won’t allow that.”

You furrowed your brow as Apollo got down on his knees. “Love, if you wanted to hear my gorgeous voice all you had to do was ask,” he said, giving you his classic smirk.

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes, but you didn’t have time to question him before he raised his hands over your wound and began to sing. You hated to admit it, you truly did, but Apollo had a decent voice. Seconds after Apollo’s song ended you let out a gasp, your eyes wide as you looked around, the pain was gone.

You looked down at your wound seeing your bloody shirt but no wound. “Thank you,” you said, looking up at Apollo.

“No need to thank me gorgeous,” Apollo said with a smirk. “Though you can repay me, with a date?”

“No.” Apollo’s mouth dropped open in offense.

“As much as I appreciate this brother,” Artemis spoke, glaring at her brother. “Leave my Hunters alone.”

Apollo stood up, raising his hands in surrender. “I have business to attend to anyway,” he said before disappearing in a glow of light.

You groaned as you propped yourself up, groaning as you did so. Though you were fully healed now it seemed you were still physically exhausted. You glanced over at the doorway where you saw Clarisse, her foot shifted forward but she didn’t enter the room.

You caught Artemis glancing at Clarisse out of the side of her eye, but she didn’t say anything. “I have business to attend to on Olympus,” Artemis said. “Help with the injured, with cleanup, anything you can, then make your way to camp.” You and Thalia both nodded at her orders. “I will meet you when it’s time.” You and Thalia gave a confirmed nod and then Artemis also disappeared from in front of you.

As soon as Artemis was gone, someone crashed into you. You were glad to still be sitting down because the impact from Clarisse would have surely sent you to the floor. You groaned as you felt her arms wrap tightly around you and bury her face in your neck. You were pretty sure she mumbled an apology, but you didn’t care, you were happy to return the hug just as tightly.

Taglist: @cxcilla @danonered @touchmyfracturedomens @luclue @manu-007s-world @death-in-love @nenas19 @mynameiskaci @fictionalwhor3

[liver-f4ilure]

Criminals Still alive PT 1

Including only murderers

(OLD POST REDONE!)

Adnan Colak

(AKA. The Beast of Artvin)

Age: 71 (September 5th, 1952, Türkiye)

Crime: killing 11 people via axe ages 68-95, 6 of which were women whom he raped before killing. The span of his crimes were 1992-1995 in the Turkish district of Artvin.

Convictions/Sentence: 6 death sentences + 40yrs imprisonment however it was commuted to life imprisonment when Türkiye abolished the death penalty in 2004.

Where are they now?: released in 2005 under a conditional release arrangement.

Fact: I really can’t find a single thing on how he killed them but he was named the ‘axe murderer’

Artyom Anoufriev

(AKA. Academy Maniacs)

Age: 29 (October 4th 1992, Irkutsk, Russia)

Crime: Artyom and the other member of the academy maniacs, Nikita Lytkin, killed 6 people via hammer, mallet, baseball bat or knife. Artyom said he administered the first blows while Nikita mocked the victims. The two would hit the victim 15-20 times before they passed. In total they had 15 victims with 9 of them surviving.

Conviction/sentence: 6 counts murder, robbery, abuse of victims bodies and organizing extremist activities. Artyom was sentenced to life imprisonment while Nikita was sentenced to 24 years which was then reduced to 20years. However on December 1st 2021 he was found dead via su!cide. He had 9 more years left in his sentence.

Where are they now?: still incarcerated

Fact: the case was the first one involving violent extremism in the Irkutsk Oblast that was solved using forensic science.

Beverly Allitt

(AKA. Angel of Death)

Age: 55 (October 4th 1968, Grantham, England)

Crime: killing 4 children via injecting large doses of insulin and attempted to kill 9 other children during her time as a nurse (aka angel of death)

Conviction/Sentance: 4 counts murder, 5 counts attempted murder. Sentenced to 13 consecutive life sentences.

Where are they now?: still incarcerated

Fact:During early childhood and adolescence she would do ‘attention-seeking’ behaviours including going to multiple doctors and getting her prefectly healthy appendix removed. her motive for her crimes was FDIA ( factitious disorder imposed by another) aka Münchhausen by proxy.

Catherine Brinie

(AKA.The Moorhouse Murders)

Age: 73 (May 23rd 1951, Australia?)

Crime: murdering and abducting 4 women (attempting to kill 1) all ranging in ages from 15-31 with her husband, David Birnie (1951-2005) almost all their victims were rapd. The couple gained the name ‘the moorhouse murders’ since they committed the crimes in their house at 3 Moorhouse Street.

Conviction/Sentence: She was sentenced to 4 terms life imprisonment with possibility of parole after 20 years. Her husband pleaded guilty to 4 counts murder, 5 counts abduction and 4 counts rape.

Where are they now?: still incarcerated

Fact: the couple only had 1 survivor, Kate Moir who was 17 at the time of her escape and wasn’t believed by police when she made the report.

Charles Cullen

(AKA. The Angel of death)

Age: 64 (February 22nd 1960, West Orange, New Jersey USA)

Crime: Cullen, a nurse, killed 29 with a suspected 400 more people by injecting lethal doses of insulin and Digoxin. His crimes lasted from 1988-2003 and through several medical centres in both New Jersey and Pennsylvania.

Conviction/sentence: convicted of 29 counts murder and sentenced to 18 consecutive life sentences and will be eligible for parole June 10th 2403.

Where are they now?: still incarcerated

Fact: in 2006 during a sentencing hearing in a Pennsylvanian courtroom Cullen, for 30 minutes kept repeating”Your Honour, you need to step down” until Judge William H. platt had him gagged with cloth and duct tape. Yet through the cloth he still kept repeating his words.

David Berkowitz

(AKA. Son of Sam)

Age: 71 (June 1st 1953, Brooklyn New York USA)

Crime: killing 6 people (mainly couples) via .44 calibre gun, leaving 11 wounded and 2 via stabbing in ‘75. He also reported being apart of multiple unsolved arsons

Convictions/Sentance: 6 counts murder in the second degree, 7 counts attempted second degree murder. Sentenced to life imprisonment with possibility of parole after 25yrs

Where are they now?: Still incarcerated

Fact: Stacy Moskowitz was the only blonde victim of Berkowitz and didn’t survive. At the police station Stacy’s mother reported a detective called her ‘ms. Berkowitz’ instead of Moskowitz. He gained his name because of his motive saying his neighbours dog ‘Sam’ was the devil and told him to do it which he later claimed was fake. He also was apart of a satanic cult named ‘The sons of Sam’ but not any members have been found. He is the reason for a set of laws called ‘The son of Sam laws’ which prohibit criminals from profiting off media.

(I COULD DO A WHOLE INFO POST ON THIS CASE ITS SO INTERESTING!)

Dennis Rader

(AKA. BTK Killer)

Age: 79 (March 9th 1945, Pittsburg, Kansas USA)

Crime: killed 10-12+ victims all ranging in age (9-62) by suffocation or strangulation. First he would break into his victims houses (usually families) tie them up, torture them then kill them. He sometimes masturbated over his female victims.

Convictions/Sentance: 10 counts murder in the first degree (suspected more victims). Sentance to life imprisonment with possibility of parole after 175yrs.

Where are they now?: still incarcerated

Fact: Rader got so caught up in sending letters to taunt police that he sent a floppy disc which was traced back to him, leading to his arrest

Gary Ridgway

(AKA.the green river killer)

Age: 75 (Febuary 18th 1949 Salt Lake City Utah USA)

Crime: Ridgeway killed 49 woman minority of them prostitutes or underage runaways and would pick them up off the highway and strangle them to death via his own hands then would dump their bodies in the green river(coining the name ‘Green river killer’ or other forested areas and often returned to the scene to commit acts of necrophilia. His victims were found in both Washington and Oregon. His crimes spanned from 1982 to 1988 but it’s possible he was still attacking people up to 2001 when he was finally apprehended the same year.

Convictions/sentence: 49 counts aggravated first degree murder, 48 counts tampering with evidence and solicitation. Ridgeway was sentenced to 49 life sentences without possibility of parole.

Where are they now?: still incarcerated

Fact: Ridgeway would wet the bed up until he was 13. At 16 he led a 6yr old boy into the woods and stabbed him through the ribs into the liver, he thankfully survived.

Part 2 coming soon…

—

I DO NOT CONDONE!

-Vivi

[phoenixyfriend]

[Personal rambling about my relationship with an event of recent history. This is not meant to reflect anyone else's feelings on the subject, just my own. If you reblog, please engage in good faith.]

[TW: discussions of 9/11 and its effects]

One of the side-effects of watching a lot of videos on the topic of architecture, especially in NYC, is getting really strong, complicated feelings rising back up about 9/11.

I was living in Queens when it happened, and not yet six years old. I was young, but a few moments of the day it happened is pretty clear in my memory. I was too young and not connected directly enough to the event to really understand what was going on at the time, but it was very nearby and had very strong impacts on my life both immediately, and going forward.

(After all, I had to fly inter-continentally just to see my grandparents, and I had younger siblings. Any family from Serbia needed to apply for a visa to come over to visit us, and most of them didn't speak English. Imagine how difficult airports are, right after that, if you hadn't experienced it yourself. This doesn't apply to just New York, but it does apply to me.)

Anyway, the memories are pretty shaky but definitely there for me. I was lucky enough to not have anyone who died in the event or the aftermath, but my surroundings were pretty heavily impacted due to proximity, and I imagine there's a lot that happened that I don't remember because my parents shielded me from it.

The thing is... I was still there. I still remember it, and I feel a sense of connection to the way NYC chose to rebuild after, the ways it worked to commemorate the dead, etc. I was too young to be involved and, for a time, too distant--I lived in Colorado for six years, starting '07.

It's still the city that's defined much of my life, either while living in it or living on LI, which isn't NYC but is in its shadow in all ways. I've lived in or near NYC for over half my life.

So when I look at New Yorkers reacting to the event or commemorations of it, I get it. New Yorkers erecting monuments and having strong feelings about 9/11 makes sense. Of course the people who live here and were directly hit by it have strong opinions! It was a major event! Of course city residents went feral with anger when a random luxury housing unity tried to build higher than One World Trade Center. You don't just... choose to be larger than a building that was designed to commemorate one of the greatest tragedies in the city's recent history, especially not when that building's height is already symbolic, being exactly 1776ft tall at the spire.

It might seem stupid, but I get it. I understand why NYC residents were furious at the idea, given how contentious the supertalls already are.

I understand why, over twenty years on, the rebuilding is still ongoing. I understand why 2, 5, and the Perelman Performing Arts Center have taken so long, and are still years away from completion. Nobody wants to get this wrong.

And the reason it gets so complicated is because there's this stark difference to my feelings on how the average American, and also some New Yorkers, it's true, might use 9/11 as a tragedy to fuel their racism and xenophobia and jingoistic warmongering.

This isn't my tragedy, for all that I was in its shadow, saw the smoke rising and felt the echoes of it across my childhood. I didn't lose anyone in the attack or the aftermath, and I wasn't part of a minority group targeted in its wake. I was only ever on the fringes... but it was still my city, you know?

When I was in high school, I lived in Colorado. We were discussing the difference between primary, secondary, and tertiary sources in class. The teacher used 9/11 as an example, saying that everyone in the room was a secondary source, because we were alive and saw the events unfolding on television, but we weren't there, just getting the information secondhand from the news.

I raised my hand, and said I lived in New York at the time, just across the river, and the teacher acknowledged that I was significantly closer as a source than most of the class.

I don't call myself a primary source on this. I wasn't even six, yet. My memories have faded with time, and I wasn't as close as many were.

But there's still a pride in NYC and in the rebuilding, in the way that the city bounced back. It's not so much about the architecture and rebuilding, for all that its symbolism is important and meaningful in its own right. It's more about the smaller businesses that were impacted by the destruction of a large section of the financial district, the local delis and bodegas, the hot dog carts at Bowling Green, and the wider economy hit by the ripples of the event, which definitely did affect everything in the metro area, not just the immediate surroundings.

So it's not my tragedy, really, but it is New York's.

And there's a specific kind of distaste and rage in me when I see it co-opted. When I see the average American call it 'our' tragedy. 'The nation's' tragedy.

It's not. It's not yours to use for your violence and hate for what you call Other.

I don't feel suspicion when New Yorkers hold on to the symbolism of the event, and snap back at corporate interests that try to disrespect the memory of it. This is New York's tragedy, and it makes sense for New Yorkers to feel strongly about it.

I sure as hell suspect everyone else that tries to claim it, though.

[thgfanfictionlibrary]

Friends to Lovers Fics Masterlist (13)

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6 / Part 7 / Part 8 / Part 9 / Part 10 / Part 11 / Part 12 / 

Created: June 6th, 2024

Checked:---

That Time We Took Over the World-Gamemakers (ao3) Summary: Being a session guitarist pays well, but Katniss Everdeen’s always wanted a taste of the spotlight. Enter Peeta Mellark, whose boyband fame faded twenty years ago, and a not-quite-dying wish from an old friend, and she’s in for way more than she bargained for. The Dance of the Color Guard, Op. 64-populardarling (ao3) Summary: Katniss and Peeta used to be best friends when they were kids, but now in high school, they're barely on speaking terms. It isn't until they are forced together as the titular star-crossed lovers for their marching band's field show that they will have to face their past mistakes and try to get along if they ever hope of defeating the notorious Capitol Height's Imperial Marching Crusaders in competition. It's all about winning and if that means pretending to be in love with Peeta Mellark, so be it. But a lot can happen in six months. The Ghost of You-JLaLa (ao3) Summary: Katniss Everdeen thought they were just her imaginary friends. Turns out, they were very real—and dead. An Everlark take on the movie “Heart and Souls.” The Great Panem Christmas Bake-Off-JLaLa (ao3) Summary: Aspiring baker Katniss Everdeen finally gets her chance when she's chosen for The Great Panem Christmas Bake Off. Too bad, she's already managed to piss off famous baker and Bake-Off judge, Peeta Mellark. The Holiday Stand In-LemonLuvGirl (ao3) Summary: Katniss Everdeen needs a guy to pretend to be her boyfriend for the holidays, and when she meets Peeta Mellark she thinks he's the answer to her Christmas prayers. Peeta also happens to need a significant other to take home to show off to his folks. So Katniss proposes that they pose as each other's dates for the holiday season. Just to get their families off their backs. But pretending to be in love is a dangerous game, one that Katniss might not end up winning unless she plays her cards right. The Hoodie-LemonLuvGirl (ao3) Summary: Based off the prompt: I’ve been wearing my boyfriend’s hoodie around the house for the last week. I tried to give it back last night. “That’s not my hoodie.” He said. I then realized with horror I’ve been wearing our builder’s hoodie. In front of our builder. The Long Weekend-JLaLa (ao3) Summary: Two assistants who barely tolerate each other. One snowy cabin. One very long weekend. Oh, and one bed. The Marrow of the Story-hutchabelle (ao3) Summary: Written for the Everlark Fic Exchange Springtime 2020 Edition Prompt 17: Everlark enemies to lovers, a long-standing grudge (could be anything, even simple) but somehow it is discovered that Katniss is a bone marrow match for Peeta. If she doesn’t donate he will die. The One She Left Behind-Xerxia (ao3) Summary: Everlark modern AU Weeks after moving to New York, Peeta Mellark encounters a woman he thought he'd never see again. The Pact-endlessnightlock (ao3) Summary: prompt: best friends everlark!pact on marrying each other when they turn 30 and are still single. now both are 30 and very much married. what comes after? (surprisingly good sex, awkward kids talk, explaining to families and friends) its up to you☺