#ALSO HERES MAVY i do not talk about her ENOUGH and i need to change that ✨😖 she’s my arion romancing beloved!

[thedeadthree]

ADDA (pathfinder: kingmaker) // HINATA (cp2077)

PRIYA (ofna) // MAVIS (when twilight strikes)

VALENTINA (john wick) // EIRINI (twc/succession)

the loveliest @marivenah tagged me to make a few of the loves in this cutest little picrew! ty so much mari!

TAGGING: @griffin-wood, @risingsh0t, @queennymeria, @chuckhansen, @leviiackrman, @blackreaches, @florbelles, @virassan, @jacobseed, @swordcoasts, @aartyom, @arklay, @hoesephseed, @adelaidedrubman, @belorage, @shellibisshe, @yennas, @confidentandgood, @wayhavens, @wayhavenots, @luckycamden, @dihardys, @jackiesarch, @celticwoman, @multiverse-of-themind, @rosebarsoap, @trvelyans, @themysteriouslou, @amistrio, @halcyonmusings and you!

[darter-blue]

tfw you wake up accidentally married to a superhero

stucky - shrunkyclunks - total fluff...

Read it here on ao3

Or part one, two, three, four and five on tumblr

Part 6:

Steve...

Steve can’t quite believe that this is real. There’s something magical about the way Bucky is looking up at him. There’s something overwhelmingly honest in his affection. Steve wants to kiss him again. But the music has stopped and the confetti is no longer falling and Scott is clearing his throat and, well, this is probably not the time or place for Steve to lose the last shred of his control.

‘Boys, boys, boys!’ Mavis is cooing, clapping her hands, ‘You did it!’

‘We did it,’ Bucky says softly, smiling quietly, eyes shining up at Steve.

‘We did,’ Steve says. Totally unnecessarily. But words have never been his forte. Steve’s life is always about action. He got so used to people not listening to him. Before the serum, after the serum… nobody listens to Steve’s words.

But they pay attention to his actions.

Bucky has done nothing but listen to him tonight. Everything Steve said Bucky has heard. Bucky has answered Steve’s words with actions, had pulled him forwards into activity after activity. Has interpreted all of Steve’s clumsy musings with a perception that almost defies logic.

Steve so rarely gets to let anyone else take the helm. Very rarely would ever trust anyone to do so.

But he trusts Bucky.

His stormy blue eyes and the warmth of his touch and the way his voice wraps around Steve like a blanket to keep him safe. Familiar. Beautiful.

And now...

Now he’s family.

‘Scott, kiddo, we need you to sign this for us,’ Mavis says, pulling Scott away from where he’s awkwardly standing behind Bucky and Steve at the altar. ‘You boys too, we need signatures and then you can run away to your room for the real celebration!’

Mavis’s glee is exuberant and seemingly infinite. But she makes an interesting point.

No they have the rest of the night to themselves. As a newly married couple. Which he guesses makes this the honeymoon…

He’s certainly no expert on marriage or relationships of any kind… but that's typically a pretty exciting period of time…

Steve may or may not be panicking about the ramifications of what that means for both of them.

He doesn’t have that much experience doing this since he’s had the serum… Fumbling around in a tent with a sergeant after a long day tracking through enemy territory… maybe getting hands on each other, mouths at most…

He hasn’t done that for a while. And he’s never had time, or even the inclination, to worship someone, to take his time, to discover enough about someone to give them everything they want.

He’s not even sure he knows how to do that.

‘You’re thinking too hard,’ Bucky says, placing a gentle finger between Steve’s eyebrows, ‘Come sign the papers Stevie, and then we can talk about what’s worrying you.’

Steve is hit again by how much he can’t believe this is real, that Bucky can see his hesitation, knows him already.

Too much of that disbelief must be evident in his expression though, because Bucky takes his finger away and stands up straight, taking his weight off Steve’s arms, ‘Unless you're freaking out? Are you freaking out?’ Bucky’s hand slides down Steve’s arm and slows as it reaches his forearm, grips it with comfort. ‘We haven’t signed anything yet Steve, it’s not too late to change your mind.’

‘I haven’t,’ Steve says, sharp, shaking his head hard and fast, ‘I would never.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘I’ve never been more sure about anything in my life.’

Bucky reaches up to kiss him again, fiercely, pushing up into Steve’s chest and gripping his arms. Steve kisses back like a desperate man, forgetting again that they have people waiting on them, that they need to be getting out of the way.

Forgetting about anything and everything but the taste of Bucky, the sweetness, the hint of sugar on his tongue, the saltiness of the sweat on his lips. He’s lost in the sensation.

‘You two lovebirds better get up here and sign this so it's official!’ Mavis is laughing at them, Steve can hear it.

Bucky pulls back and almost falls, Steve has to grab him to stop him from falling backwards. ‘Oops,’ Bucky says with a grin, ‘We better get up there.’

‘Gotta make it official,’ Steve says. He can feel the answering grin on his own face.

‘Good, good,’ Mavis says as Steve and Bucky make their way up to sign the paperwork, ‘let me get this all officiated for you and you can come and pick them up with your album in the morning,’ Mavis takes the signed papers from them and shuffles them into a folder, ‘Take your rings, take this,’ she gives them each a glass of champagne Steve didn’t even see her pour, ‘go thank your witness and get out of my chapel, I’ll see you tomorrow.’

‘Thank you so much, Mavis,’ Bucky says, pulling away from Steve to wrap Mavis in a hug, very nearly spilling his champagne down her back. ‘You’re wonderful.’

‘Oh, well,’ Mavis says as Bucky lets her go, a pretty pink blush creeping into her peach cheeks, ‘you two have been an absolute delight.’

‘Thanks Mavis,’ Steve says, reaching out to shake her hand, ‘we’ll see you in the morning.’

‘You better!’ Mavis turns away, waving over her head at them and heading out to the office at the back with their paperwork.

Bucky tips his head back and drinks the entire glass of alcohol in one pull, gesturing for Steve to do the same, ‘We’ll leave the glasses here,’ he says, setting his down on a console near the doors, ‘down the hatch, Stevie.’

Steve looks down at his glass and shrugs, tips it back and drinks it down in three mouthfuls. He looks back at Bucky, rosy cheeked and laughing and has the overwhelming desire to kiss him again, slower, and longer and without the audience.

‘I ah,’ Scott says, clearing his throat again as he sidles up to them, ‘I should get your number, you know, so I can send you the video.’

‘Oh, good idea!’ Bucky says, and they set their heads together while Steve stands back and watches.

Once they have their numbers exchanged and Bucky has laughed at the pictures, he pulls Steve in closer, sets Scott in the middle of them, their arms around him.

‘Quick selfie,’ Bucky says, holding his phone out and snapping a photo, the three of them in their matching t-shirts and matching grins.

‘Thank you, Scott.’ Steve says, clapping him on the back.

‘Anytime, Cap, anytime. Literally. Call me and I’ll be there. Whatever you need.’

‘Yep, yes,’ Steve says, shaking Scott’s outstretched hand and then stepping back, ‘I’ll ah, I’ll be in touch.’

‘You were wonderful too, Scott,’ Bucky says, pulling a happy Scott into a hug, ‘thank you so much.’

‘You’re welcome, Bucky. It was my pleasure.’

‘We should get going though,’ Steve says, wrapping a hand around Bucky’s, ‘It was lovely to meet you Scott.’

‘Right, yes, big night for you!’ Scott puts his arms out as he takes a step back, ‘You know, wedding night, ah…’ he trips on a fold in the carpet and does a little backwards hop, ‘epic romance and ah… you know,’ he goes to make a gesture with his hands but stops mid way, ‘yeah I better,’ he sticks his thumb over his shoulder, ‘leave you to it.’

‘Thank you, Scott,’ Steve says again, his voice probably coming off a little more authoritative than he intended.

Bucky is laughing into Steve’s shoulder, and the feel of his warm breath on the thin material of his T-shirt is very distracting. He hardly notices that Scott is gone, or that they’ve reached the open doors and are now back into the hustle and bustle of the Casino.

‘So um,’ Bucky pulls away from him enough to look up into Steve’s face, ‘I may or may not be sharing a room with my best friend, who may or may not have someone up there with her right now…’

‘Oh, I have a room all to myself,’ Steve says quickly grabbing Bucky by the hand, ‘would you… I mean, if that’s okay?’

‘Sounds great,’

‘Okay it’s this way,’ Steve pulls Bucky towards the elevators, ‘Do you need anything?’

‘I have everything I need,’ Bucky says with a smile, looking Steve up and down and biting his lip. ‘Maybe more than I know what to do with, to be honest.’

Steve has to huff a laugh at that. And the idea that Bucky might also be feeling a little overwhelmed by the physical connotations of the decision they’ve just made eases a tightness in Steve’s chest.

‘We can take it as slow as you like, Buck.’

And Bucky is nodding his head. ‘Slow is good, I can do slow.’

There seem to be even more people out on the casino floor than earlier, and Steve is careful to pull Bucky through them gently, not bumping or knocking or accidentally treading on anyone, ever conscious of how much heavier his step is than it used to be, how much damage he could cause with a moment of carelessness.

It’s enough to pull all of his focus, and they’re at the elevators before he has a chance to think to panic about anything else.

Bucky leans forward and pushes the button to go up.

When the doors open, at least five other people shuffle into the elevator with them. Too drunk or too wrapped up in their own conversations to pay much attention to Bucky and Steve as they move all the way to the back and lean against the railing. Hands held gently between them.

‘What floor?’ someone asks over their shoulder as the doors close, and then balks as he catches Steve’s eye. ‘Ah… Sir.’

Steve looks down at Bucky as he answers, ‘Ten.’ and squeezes his hand.

Bucky squeezes back.

‘Ten. Ten. Sure.’ The guy presses ten and then looks back over his shoulder at Steve and nods his head, eyes wide. ‘You’re ah… you seem bigger in real life, you know.’

‘I have heard that,’ Steve says, smiling tightly at the guy and then looking back at Bucky to gauge his reaction.

Bucky is looking between him and the passenger with a raised eyebrow, his brow furrowed, but he doesn't say anything. Just squeezes Steve’s hand again, and Steve lets out his held breath, squeezing Bucky back.

The last of the other passengers shuffle out at the fifth floor, glancing curious looks back at Steve, and the doors close behind them, leaving Bucky and Steve alone. Bucky stretches forward, pulling Steve’s hand with him, and pulls the emergency stop on the elevator.

‘Okay,’ he says, turning back to Steve, ‘what was that?’

Steve shrinks into his shoulders as Bucky stalks towards him, leans back into the railing of the elevator until he hears it crack.

‘Shit.’

‘Steve!’ Bucky says, looking behind him at the cracked railing and then up at Steve’s no doubt very sheepish expression, ‘what’s going on?’

‘Okay, so, I can explain this,’ Steve starts, carefully moving away from the railing and towards Bucky, keeping their hands joined, not wanting to stop touching him, ‘I ah… when I said my name is Steve Rogers…’

‘It’s not?’

‘Oh, no, it definitely is. That’s the problem.’

‘What’s the problem?’ Bucky asks, frown deeply etching into his forehead.

‘That’s me, I’m Steve Rogers.’

‘Yes, you said that…’

‘Steve Rogers, like Captain America.’

‘Captain America's name is Steve Rogers too?’

Steve can’t help but laugh, Bucky looks so quizzical, so adorably confused.

‘Yes Buck, his name, my name… I’m Steve Rogers and Captain America.’

‘Oh,’ Bucky says, narrowing his eyes, ‘ohhh.’ His eyes widen and he looks Steve up and down again. ‘Huh.’ he says, nodding, ‘I mean yeah… that makes total sense. I can see that.’

‘Are you… okay? Are you mad?’ Steve asks, he can feel his shoulders up around his ears.

‘Mad? Why would I be mad?’ Bucky steps closer, peering up into Steve’s face, ‘Steve, why would I be mad?’

‘I lied to you?’

‘You didn’t,’ Bucky says, shaking his head, stepping even closer, lifting a hand up under Steve’s chin and lifting it from where it’s burrowing in between Steve’s collar bones, ‘You told me your name was Steve-Steve Rogers, was that a lie?’

Steve huffs a surprised laugh. ‘No.’

‘Then when did you lie?’

‘I didn’t tell you, I knew you didn’t recognise me, and I didn’t say anything.’

‘Listen, Stevie, if I went around telling everyone that didn’t recognise me, that I was a guest mechanic on that show one time where they custom build motorcycles for people who have too much money, I’d look nuts.’

‘Yeah but-’

‘No buts. It’s your job right?’

‘I mean, in a very simplified sense, yes.’

‘Uh huh, well, let's be real simple, you’re a superhero, I’m a mechanic,’ Bucky moves so close to Steve that his chest is pressed up against Steve’s. Steve can feel his heart beat through the point where their bodies meet, ‘we’re married, and we get to spend the rest of our lives figuring out if it's crazier to be married to a guy who gets emotional over a cracked magneto rotor or a guy who fights crime for a living.’

‘It’s not really crime-’

Bucky puts a palm over Steve’s mouth to muffle him. He’s looking at him with the sort of fondness that Steve has never known. Has only read about. And then his mouth quirks, and his eyebrow lifts and his gaze switches from warm to hot as he crowds into Steve’s space. ‘Steve, shut up and kiss me, okay?’

Steve doesn’t waste any time. He grabs Bucky by the thighs, flips them around and lifts him against the wall.

Bucky’s legs wrap around Steve like its instinct and his arms fly up to grip Steve by the back of the neck. ‘Oh wow,’ he reaches up to meet Steve’s mouth as Steve reaches down to kiss him. ‘You can’t be real.’

‘I’ve been thinking the same thing about you all night,’ Steve whispers, breathing the words into Bucky’s mouth between kisses.

Steve can feel that he’s hard, and that his dick is trapped between them as he presses Bucky further and further into the wall. ‘Oh wow,’ Bucky says with a sharp intake of breath.

‘Sorry,’ Steve says, not pulling back far enough from the kisses to give the word any real feeling.

‘I think you mispronounced, “you’re welcome”,’ Bucky laughs, rocking his hips up against Steve’s erection and ringing a gasp out of both of them.

‘I need to get you up to the room,’ Steve says, trying to grasp at his self control, ‘need to get this elevator going again before they send a search party up here.’

‘I guess we can’t have you turning up on TMZ wrecking your new husband in an elevator, huh?’

Steve has to close his eyes to that image, to the idea of just ripping Bucky open against the wall like this, of tearing into him, biting and licking and fucking and taking and Bucky giving himself over. It’s so much, it's too much, and Steve has to pull back, has to count down from five to get some of his control back.

‘Hey, hey, hey, you’re okay, we’re okay,’ Bucky is saying, not pressing into Steve’s space but keeping him grounded. Finding his feet and reaching out with one hand to Steve’s forearm, the other keeping him steady against the wall, ‘let's start it up again, get to the room.’

Steve keeps Bucky in his periphery as he leans over and depresses the emergency stop, starting the elevator up again with a lurch and a grind of gears.

He slides Bucky's palm down his forearm to lock their fingers together. ‘I’m good, sorry.’

He looks down at Bucky and Bucky is looking back at him. Not judging, not frowning. His face is soft and open, his smile small but real. The acceptance radiating off of him is tangible; Steve could run his fingers through the air and touch it.

He lets himself unclench, lets his body be at ease, leans into Bucky and rests his cheek on the top of Bucky’s head.

‘You know,’ Bucky says quietly, speaking the words into Steve’s shoulder again, ‘I’ve probably had too many cocktails for too much nonsense tonight anyway.’

And Steve hugs him tighter, wraps his arms around him to pull him impossibly closer.

‘Maybe we should do some investigating, once we get to your room, find out who gets which side of the bed, and which one of us is the blanket hog.’

‘It’s going to be you,’ Steve says, just as quietly, his words landing in Bucky’s hair.

‘Probably.’

‘I run pretty hot though, I should warn you.’

Bucky pushes up to tilt his head back, to reach up and press a soft kiss to Steve’s lips, ‘I bet you do.’ when the elevator slows to a stop and dings, the doors opening to the tenth floor.

It’s quiet, and the lights are low, and Steve feels calmer, his panic receding. He leads Bucky to the suite that Tony organised for him, too much for just Steve, but probably just right for the two of them. Just fancy enough for a wedding night.

‘Holy shit,’ Bucky says spinning around as he follows Steve inside, ‘this is some room!’

‘It’s a bit much’

‘It’s amazing!’ Bucky is busy walking around and looking into the corners, poking his head into the bathroom, ‘Fuck a duck,’ he looks back out at Steve, ‘your shower is bigger than my apartment!’

‘Can I get you anything?’ Steve asks, in lieu of finding a non awkward way to discuss the size of his ridiculously ostentatious hotel room. There are a million tiny bottles of alcohol in the minibar, though Bucky’s probably had enough (the implications of that are for Steve to worry about tomorrow). All sorts of food and snacks that he’s been too scared to open, lest they cost Tony a small fortune, but he’d be happy to open them for Bucky.

Bucky comes back over from his tour of the room to stand by the kitchenette with Steve. ‘Um water?’

‘Sure.’ He pulls a bottle from the mini fridge and opens it, hands it to Bucky who drinks it down and sits the empty bottle on the counter. ‘Hungry?’

Bucky peers up at him and shakes his head. He looks over at the giant bed, back to Steve, and then to the remote on the nightstand.

‘Okay. Idea.’ He grabs Steve by the hand and pulls him over to the bed. ‘We pick the cheesiest movie we can find, get under the covers, and order ice cream.’

Steve could cry, it's everything he needs (not what he wants, but he doesn’t trust himself, his body, his control right now). Honestly. ‘Okay.’ He crawls onto the bed next to Bucky and shows him which button elevates the TV up out of the bench at the foot of the bed.

‘Whoa.’

Steve has to admit that it’s pretty cool.

And it's much nicer when he has someone to share it with.

Bucky fluffs a bunch of pillows and places them against the bed head, sits himself up against them and burrows down into them. ‘You coming?’

Steve nods his head. He pulls off his shirt and folds it up, places it on the armchair next to the bed, holds his hand out to take Bucky’s as well. ‘Pants too,’ Steve says with a smile. Only half wanting to get to snuggle up to all that soft smooth olive skin, and half wanting to make sure Bucky is comfortable.

Bucky rolls his eyes with a smile and shuffles around until he has his clothes off, passes them over to Steve who folds them and puts them with his own. Matching t-shirts folded together.

He looks down at his ring and feels that now familiar skip of his heart.

It's real.

He could have this every day.

Someone to snuggle up to. Someone to fall asleep with. Wake-up to.

He takes his own pants off and places them on top of the pile, sliding in under the covers next to Bucky and reaching an arm around to pull him close.

‘What are we watching?’

‘Alright, don’t be mad, but there’s a Murder She Wrote marathon…’

‘And you like this show?’

Bucky nods.

‘Then it’s perfect,‘ Steve says. Leaning back into the pillows. ‘Tell me everything I need to know.’

He doesn’t mean to, but the sound of Bucky’s voice, the lull of the soft light and the background noise, the warmth of Bucky’s body pressed against him… it's like the ultimate comfort. For the first time in as long as Steve can remember, he feels his eyes closing, he feels his mind quietening, he feels his body settle into rest.

If Bucky regrets this, if he wakes up and realises this was a drunken mistake, if he changes his mind for whatever reason, Steve will have still had this night. He will have had this peace.

He’s going to steal it now. Not borrow trouble. He’s going to lie back and let this be his. Even if it’s just for one night.

And Bucky’s voice, his warmth. They have him believing that it might be forever. Something about Bucky just makes Steve believe.

In love at first sight. In soulmates.

In Happiness.

He tightens his hand around his husband. His husband.

And he sleeps.

No dreams. No nightmares.

He sleeps.

[joezworld]

📁

Specifically, any headcanons of the Sodor Engines interacting with the internet, or the internet in general?

For some reason, I’d imagine that podcasts and the like are popular among vehicles in general.

That is a question that I've been working on for some time - because I'm workshopping my own Tornado headcanon (and boy oh boy does she use the internet a lot) - but I have some ideas for the Sodor engines as well: 

Henry is probably the most "plugged in" engine on the island, weirdly enough. One of his drivers gave him an iPod back in the early 2000s, and kindly preloaded it with a bunch of torrented music.

 BTW, that works because all the engines are now equipped with automatic train warning systems, and the little on-board computer has a USB port - as a nice side effect it allows music players to work with the engines in the same way as bone-conducting headphones do. The computer also acts as some kind of computer interface, which I am not going to explain how that works because Jesus Christ I don’t know how it does either.  

 Henry has managed to upgrade his iPod a few times since thanks to hand-me-down units from NWR staff, so he eventually got his buffers on a wifi-enabled iPod Touch and now downloads new music from the station wifi. He does listen to podcasts, but as every other engine will tell you, you could show Henry ten thousand new and exciting songs from the best artists in the world, and his top ten played songs are still going to be Genesis, Phil Collins, and Yes. Bear considers it a win that he managed to convince Henry to regularly listen to Rush after a mere twenty years of convincing. 

 Mavis and Daisy listen to a very interesting program called The News, because as stated elsewhere, they invest a shitload of money and need to be on top of things. Thomas and Percy wish that Daisy would use headphones or something similar to that, instead of listening to Bloomberg TV at loud volumes in the middle of the night. Toby frankly doesn’t mind, as it’s very nice to be kept up-to-date on the outside world.  

In a move that surprises no-one, Bill and Ben have a podcast where they talk about whatever they think about at that moment - usually horse-racing, investing, and clay mining. As such, they have a wide audience, almost none of whom know that they’re that Bill and Ben, as their podcast is audio-only.  

 In an also unsurprising move, Edward and BoCo have been made very much aware that Bill and Ben have a podcast, but are still unsure as to what the hell a podcast is, despite being frequent guests on it.  

Of the main line diesels, only Bear has shown any real interest in the internet, and was immediately put in charge of the Amazon Alexa when a unit was installed in the diesel shed. He also has an iPod that he got for Christmas a few years back. (The NWR has a very good personal  electronics recycling program called give it to Henry, he’ll make use it.)  

Bear does listen to podcasts as well as music, but his choices are so insufferably boring that even Henry refuses to listen to them. (I don’t really listen to podcasts - despite making one - so insert the most boring podcast you can think of here.) 

 As for other internet uses... 

Gordon is very up-to-date on the newest social media trends - somehow - but only really cares when he is involved. He won’t admit it, but he’s been trying to figure out how to work a camera/selfie stick for some time so he can start up his own Instagram account. So far he has been unsuccessful, but one day he will manage it. 

 James has had an ongoing feud with his own Wikipedia page for about a decade now. The article sourced most of its information about his construction off of some out-of-print book about the L&Y. The book in question is accurate about James’ class, but not James himself - as he was a prototype engine. There’s no other primary sources available, so the very dedicated Wikipedia mod who created the page won’t change it - no matter how much James complains that he was there! He knows what happened! 

Every now and again a TTTE fan blog/tumblr will make a post about hypothetical “ships” of the Sodor engines. Most of the time it’s shipping the core characters like Gordon and Henry, much to Gordon’s bafflement and Henry’s amusement! 

Only one blog (a ttte fan tumblr by the curious name of @mean-scarlet-deceiver  ) has gotten it right. Henry actually reached out to congratulate this blogger, but was unfortunately mistaken for a very dedicated roleplay account.  

James is very annoyed by these blogs, as they have never once correctly guessed who he is “shipped” with! He has tried several times to be seen in public with Delta, but these events have never gone as planned - the “best” instance is when Edward rolled by at exactly the wrong moment, leading to months of speculation that JamesxEdward was the ship to look out for! 

Thomas, being a generally oblivious sort of engine, was totally unaware of the online fan community around the TV show until he started getting actively harassed by vloggers and Instagrammers in the early 2010s. He’s fine with it now, but it was a deeply unusual experience for most of 2012.  

Toby has developed an unexpectedly popular following on social media following his collab with Stormzy. His official twitter is huge now, with over a million followers, even if he has no idea what to do with it. He posts rarely, but usually manages to make an incredible post when he does.

No-one is sure who told Oliver what a “fan-production” is, but if you manage to get ahold of him for any period of time and ask him nicely, he will lend his voice to your TTTE fan-project, so long as it isn’t about [INSERT TERRIBLE SOCIAL/POLITICAL VIEW(S) HERE]. This means that he has 100% voiced dramatic readings of NSFW Fanfics before, which is always an absolute riot to spring on people unannounced.

There is a series of slice-of-life TTTE fanfics on Ao3 that have been written with such accuracy and innate railway knowledge that people are sure it was written by a Sodor engine, but nobody knows which one.

The Culdee Fell Railway has very active Instagram, Twitter and YouTube accounts, with all of the engines and coaches showing up regularly. It’s about the closest any of the railways on Sodor have come to what those outside the UK would call “normal locomotive social media”.

The Skarloey Railway has social media accounts too, but they don’t really feature the engines in any meaningful way, instead being used as a normal service announcements page.  

 The SR is a real working railway that doesn’t rely on tourism money as much as the others do, so they get a bit of a pass here.  

 The Arlesdale Railway has Twitter and YouTube, which didn’t usually get a lot of hits until 2020, when Ivan and Amanda Farrier started badgering the staff to make some videos just to alleviate some boredom. So far the most popular videos on the channel are a front-mounted camera video of the entire line slow-tv style, Bert explaining how steam engines work, and a video of Mike complaining about Justin Bieber for a solid half-hour.  

 That’s about it as far as Sodor goes, but before we’re done, I want to take a moment to talk about Tornado, because I have some fun ideas for her... 

First of all, we need to establish that Tornado is very young. Her construction only started in late 90′s, and she was steamed to life in 2000, putting her firmly into the “Zoomer” category. Add in the fact that she was built by a bunch of old men who didn’t really know how to treat a new engine, and she was raised much more like a human than a locomotive - I’ll get to this much more in the proper Tornado Headcanon post, but what this means here is that when social media started being a thing in the mid-to-late 2000′s, the people at the A1 Trust decided that they needed a young person to run things like Twitter, Facebook, and Myspace... and, well, Tornado was the youngest person in the trust by a large margin.

I should state here that in the rest of the world, locomotives are on the internet at roughly the same level as humans are, so there’s plenty of equipment to connect a phone/computer/camera to an engine - being English, the A1 Trust didn’t know how common it was, but they managed to get it up and running just the same.

 So Tornado has very quickly become attuned to the internet, just like any other teenager would. (yes, let’s let that settle into our minds for a moment - Tornado is barely old enough to drink in the US!) Quite naturally that means that she knows social media inside and out, and is actually quite a proficient social media manager for the trust, managing all of their social pages. More than one person who has complained about the trust on twitter has unknowingly been complaining to Tornado herself! 

 “On the internet, nobody knows that you’re a dog Engine”. 

 Tornado has her own personal social media accounts too, but most/all of the time she gets mistaken for a very dedicated role-player, as the general perception of British Locomotives is that they don’t tweet. This has resulted in some amazing reactions from podcast hosts (because, as you might expect, Tornado is very knowledgeable about steam traction in the 21st century, and tweets about it often, so train podcasts want to talk to her) when she gets invited onto video calls, turns on her webcam, and is met with screams from people who suddenly realize that her profile picture is accurate.  

 By far the best instance of this is when she was invited onto a video call with a railfan podcast. She was at the NRM at the time and managed to convince them to let her use their Skype setup. A wide-angle lens was needed because she was on the turntable in the Great Hall, so that podcast quickly got sidetracked when her webcam was turned on and revealed Tornado, with Mallard, Evening Star, City of Truro, and Green Arrow visible behind her. Whatever the original topic was quickly got thrown out in favor of a 2-hour Q&A with some of the most famous engines in the UK. 

[sweetmemories2606]

Fraxus Day 2020

Not even sure what this is, but inspiration was running wild today so I decided to give it a try. Given that this is only my second time writing Freed and Laxus as a couple, I ask that you please go easy on me. 

Hope you enjoy the prompt nonetheless!

Title: Cold Day, Warm Heart

Summary: All Laxus had wanted was to be alone on this painful day until he spotted the most important person in his life at the cemetery and was reminded of how lucky he was to have Freed. 

Warning: There is major angst in here as a major character dies.

Word count: 1.5 K

He just wanted to be alone. Not in the mood to talk or even fight. Just space. That's all he needed, but not everyone got the message. The Thunder Legion; well Freed and Ever;  followed him to the guild even though he told them not to. They were worried, he could tell, but still they should respect his wishes. 

"Can't you see I want to be alone now?" He finally snapped after constant concerned comments and attempts to get him to share. 

Silence. They stared at him in shock, but soon that was replaced by understanding. Letting out long sighs, they finally stepped away and let him be; after reminding him that they were only a call away if needed. He was grateful, really, but wouldn't tell them now. 

After a quick meal and drink, he returned home only to grab the bouquet of white orchids which he had purchased the day before. They reminded him of his grandfather, but Laxus tried not to think about Makarov, as he made his way towards the cemetery. So much pain and grief; it was always overwhelming.

Arriving at the huge gates and let out a long sigh, closing his eyes and letting the cool breeze envelop him. It was a cold morning which perfectly symbolised the coldness and harshness of this date. It was strange how every year it was the same and even though the rational side of him knew it was due to the winter season, unconsciously he wondered if the weather was like this because his grandfather was gone. 

Makarov had been such a warm presence in all of the lives of his loved ones. Always bright and cheerful; truly the best grandfather Laxus could have asked for. Someone who had always been there for him and helped him become a better person. 

He was gone now, though, and the warmth left with him. 

Laxus didn't want to think about that anymore. It was depressing enough to be standing in front of the cemetery on this freezing day. Thus he took in a deep breath, trying to recompose himself even as the lump in his throat tightened and his eyes watered. 

Step by step, he started making his way towards the grave. Per Makarov's wish, he had been buried alongside his beloved wife whom Laxus had never met and the mother he barely remembered. Laxus didn't expect that anyone would be there because even though Makarov had certainly been beloved as a guild master and grandfather to many young members, everyone knew that Laxus wished to pay his respects in private and therefore they only visited the grave after the dragon slayer had done so. 

Expecting to be alone, Laxus was deeply surprised when he heard voices upon reaching the grave. Familiar voices too. Normally this would annoy him, but somehow his heart warmed at the thought of who was there. 

He rushed, eager to reach his destination, and continued to listen to the sounds. 

"So, why was his name Makarov?" A child asked. 

"Well, that is because of Master Mavis. Do you remember I told you about her?" A man answered. Even though Laxus couldn't see him yet, he could picture him exactly. That long, wavy green way hair and eyes like emeralds. The adoring look and soft smile which were usually on his face whenever he glanced at his husband. 

Laxus couldn't deny how grateful he was to have someone like Freed in his life. The love and care he had given him over the years that they had been together were incomparable. Irreplaceable too. 

Freed had always been by his side and had waited so long for him. The dragon slayer knew that no matter what he did, he could never repay his husband for all the years of uncertainty and heartache. All he could do was try to make him as happy as he felt. 

He was close enough to see Freed now. His husband stood in front of the grave, holding in his arms a beautiful little girl of 5 years old. She had bright blue eyes like and spiky blonde hair; a perfect mix of her parents. Her name was Nova, after Laxus' long deceased mother. 

It always made him proud and incredulous when he remembered that she was his daughter. Someone he hadn't expected to ever meet nor love so much. He remembered clearly a time when he would have disregarded that this could be his future, but now he couldn't be happier with the direction his life had taken.

This was the path he had chosen and the one that made him happy. Because he was happy; perhaps more than he had ever thought possible. 

"Yes, daddy, I remember." Nova's sweet voice broke him out of his thoughts. Watching as Freed smiled before booping her nose, Laxus thought once again about how lucky he was to have such a wonderful family.  

"Good, so you remember that she was the guild's first master, right?" Freed asked the five year old who nodded. 

"Yep yep." She was adorable. Everyone who met her said so and Laxus agreed with them. Though he had to admit he was not the biggest fan of children, his daughter was simply...amazing. 

Wondering about Nova led him to think about her mother and how grateful he was to her too. Mirajane had always been kinder to him than he ever deserved and when she had volunteered as the surrogate, he had decided it was time to treat her with the same kindness.

She had also been a good influence which helped him change for the better and become the man that Freed deserved. Over the years, Laxus and Mirajane had grown closer and become close friends which was also unexpected but still a pleasant surprise. Nowadays he might even say she had become his romance coach since she was the one he turned to when dealing with romantic issues. 

Laxus also enjoyed co-parenting with her even though sometimes that could be confusing. There were some hard times when Nova wondered why her biological parents weren't together which led to some difficult conversations, but overall parenting was a successful experience for all parties involved. 

More importantly, everyone had found a way to be happy. Mirajane, though not having found the right partner yet, was content being an aunt to her nephew and niece as well as a mother to Nova. Her life felt complete; she always reiterated; and Laxus chose to believe that. 

His life felt complete too, with the most faithful partner and beautiful family. The only way it could be better was if his grandfather was still there, but there was nothing he could do about that. 

"Laxus..." Hearing his name, the dragon slayer realised that he had unconsciously kept walking and was now only a few meters away from the grave. 

"Hey." He sniffled, still trying to contain the tears. "Didn't expect to see you here." 

"I know." Immediately, Freed's expression sombered and he offered an apologising look. "I'm sorry for intruding, but Nova really wanted to pay a visit to her great grandpa." 

Laxus glanced at his daughter, who excitedly called him. "Hi, papa! I missed you." 

"I missed you too, darling." He offered her a soft smile before turning back to his husband. "And I'm glad you're here."

"You are?" Freed seemed genuinely surprised. 

"Yeah." Laxus embraced them both; enjoying the feel of the two most important people of his life in his arms. Pulling away a few minutes later, he genuinely told his husband. "I feel like I should apologise for shutting you out on this date every year."

"It's okay, I understand." Ever forgiving, Freed didn't accept it. 

"No, it's not." Laxus shook his head. "You and Nova are the two most important people in my life. I should be comfortable sharing every moment with you, even the darkest ones."

"Laxus, you don't have to. I know why you don't feel that way." Freed insisted, taking his husband's hand and squeezing it. "You always want to be strong for us, but everyone needs to break down once in a while." 

Looking into his emerald eyes and noticing all the love and empathy there, Laxus couldn't contain his emotions anymore. Taking both by surprise, he broke down in tears, prompting Freed to carefully lower Nova to the floor before hugging him tightly. The little girl was silent, understanding they needed a moment. 

Just like that, this day didn't feel so painful anymore and the coldness around them faded in comparison with the warmth in Laxus' heart. Being with his family, with the partner who loved and supported him through it all, helped ease the darkness and lighten the weight of losing his grandfather. 

For once in a long time, Laxus chose to let himself be vulnerable and appreciated the feeling of being loved and protected. Admit his tears and sobs, he managed to let out two simple words but which carried so much meaning. "Thank you." 

[mytastessuck]

Gorillaz: Humanz

SHere it is, the comeback tour! I was so excited for this album, I sucked all the singles that came out before I could download the album. This album basically reminded me of the reasons I love Gorillaz. All of them. One particular reason a little too well...

Okay, let's get the elephant out of the room. This album is a bit controversial among the community for playing a little too hard to one of Gorillaz' strengths: showcasing cool artists. There are more than a few tracks where Damon doesn't even show up. Hell, my favorite track doesn't even have it on him. Me, I honestly don't care about that as long as I get to hear good music but for the rest of you die hard Gorillaz fans? Just think of this as a compilation album like NOW That's What I Call Alternative/Indie Hip-Hop/R&B/Electronica/Pop.

See? Rolls off the tongue. Now let's get started.

1. Intro: I Switched My Robot Off

Nice. Real ominous. Gorillaz really know how to build up a presentation. Feels like you're walking through the doors of the doors to the Shrine of the Silver Monkey. Anybody remember Legends of the Hidden Temple? Were there doors on that stage? Anyway, awesome.

10/10

2. Ascension

Holy hell, Vince really knocks it out of the park on this one. Different beat, nice flow, social commentary...He was not fucking around on this track. Damon's barely on the track but Vince makes up for it with his existential rhymes and chorus back-up. Man, Gorillaz has gotta take advantage of gospel more often.

9/10

3. Strobelite

That didn't take long, did it? Anyway, this is my favorite song on the album. Peven has an incredible voice, the music psychically compels you to dance and...that's it. Sometimes, well usually with me, you just need to go with Simple Yet Awesome. Have a good voice and a good beat. This song has both and I'm pretty sure that one day, a scientist will hear this song and will be inspired by it to cure diabetes.

100/10

4. Saturn Barz

Ah, the lead single from the album. Remember the 360 house, everyone? Yeah, you remember. Glad to have Gorillaz welcome back Reggae into their line-up with Popcaan manning the helms. He and Damon tag-team the eardrums with the power of dread as the instrumentation makes you feel like you're in a haunted house. Welcome back, guys.

25/10

5. Momentz

WELCOME BACK, GUYS! De La Soul returns to say some real shit about time and how you should, respect and stuff. Seriously, awesome track. Kicks so much ass and you can even dance to it as you wonder if this MOMENT will be one of the last times when you feel really happy. Nice...

9/10

6. Interlude: The Non-Conformist Oath

Hey, Steve Martin! I like to imagine a bunch of assholes listening to this and...just not getting it. Not us though. We get it. We're smart. Smarter than those guys...

10/10

7. Submission

This song had to grow on me but years after I got the album and after I learned to appreciate Danny Brown a little more like all humans should, this song became one of my favorites off the album. Don't worry Kelela, he doesn't carry the whole song. Her voice is so beautiful that it can calm a charging rhino or a coked-up Connor McGregor. These make the song a lot classier than it had any right being.

90/10

8. Charger

She's beauty, she's Grace...she's also Jones. Man, I haven't heard from this woman since Corporate Cannibal and she has clearly been keeping up practice. God, how can a woman's laughter both scare and arouse me? Damon's no slouch on this track either, singing about the monster that keeps us all tethered: the charger. I kid, I kid. Hey, did Damon really get a boner on stage when he sung this or are you guys messing with me? Message me if you know.

9/10

9. Interlude: Elevator Going Up

On a recent trip, I tried to go up the elevator but it was card-activated so a desk lady had to help me. That's it.

8/10

10. Andromeda

Damon has to do the heavy lifting here and his muscles have not completely wasted away from lack of use. He tells us to take in our heart and you know what? I did. I took this song directly in my heart...and my playlist.

50/10

11. Busted And Blue

Yeah, this song is a bummer. A good bummer. It's Broken's younger brother who joined the army to make his parents proud after he couldn't get into university like his older brother who managed to form a separate family with his squad and began to think that maybe he was good enough after all before his squad gets bombed and, as he lies legless dying painfully on the ground, a blue butterfly land directly on his outstretched busted hand...

Directed by Mervyn LeRoy

10/10

12. Interlude: Talk Radio

You ever wonder how we get voices in machines? I know you think it's a complicated process but I know a dude who picked up the radio in his electric fan once. Think about it.

8/10

13. Carnival

Again, this song had to grow on me but one day, while I was thinking about Gamzee for a godforsaken reason, I thought "Geez, he talks about the Dark Carnival and the Dark Carnival isn't even some of ICP's best days. What's a good song about a carnival?" Anyway, Anthony can spin a person's mind and mind around just by singing. He's wild.

80/10

14. Let Me Out

Hey, wouldn't it be funny if Mavis was Vince's mother? She's not but that would be funny as well as cool. Her and Pusha T bang on the walls of this track as they rant about the politics at the time of this song. Yeah, they're talking about Trump. That car horn can't protect you forever, you orange bastard.

9/10

15. Interlude: Penthouse

Dear Penthouse: Hi. Does anyone check in on you, just you? I'm here to say I think you're important and you provide a necessary outlet for men to brag about being perverts. At least before the Youtube comment section existed.

Thanks for everything,

mytastessuck

8/10

16. Sex Murder Party

Ooooo, this track puts me in a funky mood. Like, there's a part but there's sex there...and MURDER. So you know it's an awesome party. Kick-ass, right? I know it's kick-ass. Keep dancing, people.

11/10

17. She's My Collar

Pretty sexy song. Gotta love people vauging about being used in a song. That's why we love Offspring, that's why we love Damon on his knees onstage. Hey, there was a post that said Noodle wrote this song about her girlfriend. That was an excellent post. Well done.

9/10

18. Interlude: The Elephant

I SAID GET OUT OF HERE, YOU BASTARD!

8/10

19. Hallelujah Money

Ah, the technical first single. Remember when they said that they weren't going to put this song on the album? Anyway, this is exactly the song we needed after The Incident occurred. Benjamin manages to calm down an entire populace while Damon just fearfully wonders what our future will be like...and he's in the UK. This song is one long terrifying lullaby to an entire country...until the end, anyway.

75/10

20. We Got The Power

A great way to remind listeners that no matter what's happening, no matter who's in charge, we have the power change everything. An excellent message for people who were still recovering from The Incident.

10/10

21. Interlude: New World

Okay, the bonus tracks. Should be nothing special here, right? Just some B-sides and I've never shown favoritism towards B-sides, right?

8/10

22. The Apprentice

A nice song from the same Rag n' Bone Man who brought us "Human". Zebra manages to lay down some nice rhymes as Ray BLK backs them both up with the force of her voice. These guys should form a team with how well they work together. Oh, they should make a virtual band! All they need to do is find an artist...

9/10

23. Halfway To The Halfway House

A very nice song if a bit overshadowed by the others on the album. Still, Peven can't be beat when it comes to crooning and he raises a song from a solid C to a B.

8/10

24. Out of Body

This song had to grow on me also but when it did...lord, this song is weird. Hypnotic suggestions, telephone tones, the song starts then Zebra jumps in to help then who is this person?! Why are people applauding?! Who are you people?! Why are there so many crows gathering outside my house?!

60/10

25. Ticker Tape

Well well well, look who's back. Damon returns with his old friend Kali to join the accuser of the vain Carly Simon to beg us to stay on the album. Sorry Damon, but I got places to do and people to go. There's nothing you can do to convince me to stick around after how long this album already is.

9/10

26. Circle of Friendz

Huh. Seems like a riot is going on. Weird for Gorillaz to get this real. What, this guy is just going to keep saying Circle of Friendz again and again? Is this supposed to affect me? Get real. It'll take a lot more than a nice voice and implications to...

To...

...

...Maybe I should listen to the album again.

11/10

Album score: 25/10

Damn, that took a while. Shouldn't be the case next week when we cover The Now Now. See you then!

[midnightartemis]

Chapter Five 

Read Me on AO3

Dun Mhuir, The Isle of Skye, Mid-1700s

Two Days Since the Stones...

The castle awoke as we dismounted from our horses. I was so sore and chaffed that I could barely walk without grimacing. And it seemed that Kylo was in no better shape.

“We need to get that wound patched up better.” I rush to steady him, but he shoos me away.

“I’m fine, lass. Away with ye.” His mood had darkened considerably the moment we passed through the gates of the castle. The soft looks of appreciation I sometimes had gotten from him were vanished and replaced with a stony exterior and hard, uncaring eyes. I watched as he limped away with our horse and made plans to check on him later.

“Dinnae fash about him. He’s a strong lad.”

“Even strong lads can die of infection.”

“Aye.” The giant stops to stand beside me, looking me over with suspicion. “I suppose I owe you a debt for saving mo mhac.”

Mo mhac? The word was familiar, but I had to think hard for it. It was difficult enough to understand the modern mix of Scottish Gaelic and English. “Son. He’s your son?”

“Nae, but he’s the closest I’ll ever have. Family, ye ken.”

“Do I get your name for my debt?” I ask.

“No need to throw away a debt for a name, lass. Cù Buchan. Chewie, if ye will.” He offers me his hand and I take it.

“Rey Niima.” Every step I take feels like a test here.

“Where come you from?”

“London.” I was still trying my best to stick as close to the truth as possible.

“And how did you come to the Highlands?”

“With my husband.” I had the whole trip here to come up with a plausible story and yet I had failed to do so. I had been too preoccupied with escaping and making sure my captor didn’t die.

“And where is ye husband now?”

“He’s gone. Dead,” I say quietly. In a way, that was the truth as well.

The men around me are all dealing with horses and speaking in Gaelic as they had been the whole trip. Probably so that I would not understand them.

“My apologies.”

I shrug half-heartedly. He wasn’t even dead, yet... Born, yet. I close my eyes and try to wrap my mind around my adventure.

“Ye werenae fond of him?”

“I barely knew him. But he was my husband. And I loved him.” I tried to formulate my story quickly. Something that would explain what I was doing out in the middle of nowhere. “We were attacked on our way back to Inverness. He died and I ran and I kept running until I ran into Captain Snoke and his men and they mistook me for a whore.”

“It doesnae take much for a Sassenach to mistake.” The way he calls Captain Snoke a Sassenach is much different than when the men refer to me. There’s a bite to it, more like a curse. “Though yer claes are peculiar.”

I look down at my clothes which are barely dry and covered in mud. I’m thankful for stopping to change, as the thick pants and my trusty bomber jacket have likely saved me from freezing in the Highlands once more. “They’re… French.”

“Aye. French.” He eyes me like he doesn’t believe me, but he understands the strange habits of the French. Some things never change.

The horses have all been lead to stables and the courtyard is beginning to wake. A door opens near us and a small woman with sharp eyes steps out. She instantly spies us. “Mo m' eudail! Good to see ye. Who’s the lass?”

“Rey Niima. Sassenach we picked up near Inverness. Laird will want to speak wi’ her.” Chewie claps a hand on my shoulder. “She’s a guest of Clan Adharled.”

I scoff. A guest. It was a strange way of saying prisoner. But if it kept me from being locked up in a cell, I would begrudgingly accept the position. The woman seemed to come to the same conclusion so she reached out a hand and I took it. “Cannae ‘ave ye goin’ to the Laird lookin’ like that.”

She introduced herself to me as Mavis Kent-Amos, the keeper of the house. “Though if ye call me anything but Maz, I’ll gie ye a skelpit lug!”

I didn’t quite know what that meant, but I was sure it involved a good knock to the head. I let Maz drag me through the kitchens which were already filled with a flurry of activities. She shouted orders at the maids as we passed by and they hurried off. We left the kitchen for stone passageways lined with tapestries and flickering candles. There were doors leading to different rooms and a set of turning stone stairs that took us to the floor above to another passageway. This time, we went through a door and I found myself in a small bed-chamber. There was a tub on the floor, just barely big enough for someone to stand in, and a warm fire already crackling in the fireplace. I quickly knelt beside it and held my hands out to feel the warmth as Maz fussed with the bedsheets.

“There’s a man that was shot on the way here. I stopped the bleeding, but he’ll be needing fresh bandages and something to help with the infection. Kylo, he said his name was?”

“Kylo?” Maz gives me a strange look.

“Er… Large, broad shoulders, very tall. Black hair. Big ears.”

“Och aye, ye mean Benjamin. A send him some things. Can hardly get tha lad to tak broth wi’ a cauld.” She finishes with the bed and moves on to stoke the fire beside me. “Ye ken medicine?”

“Some,” I say, and she waits for me to explain further. “My husband… My late husband was a physician. In London. I used to help him some.”

Lies. More and more lies. It was the only reasonable explanation I could come up with for my medical knowledge. Before Maz can ask any more questions, there’s a soft knock on the door and a group of women comes hurrying in shortly after. Two of them carry what seem to be large pots of water and place them near the fire. The other two are handling a large chest, which they leave at the foot of the bed. Maz inspects their work with her hawk-like eyes and nods tersely. “Verra well. Rose, stay to help.”

One girl stays and the sight of her confuses me. She looked to be of Asian descent, which stood out in the sea of Scottish faces I had seen recently. She quickly fell into helping Maz with the water and I could tell that she was trying to not look at me and gape. We were two strange features of this place, I was far from my time, and she was far from her home. I gave her a little smile as she caught me watching her and she smiled back.

The tub was filled with water, some cold, some boiling so that when it all came together, it was a pleasant steaming temperature. I had expected the women to leave me to bathe, instead, Rose stood in front of me with her arms out to take my jacket. I slowly remove it, along with the rest of my clothes, feeling slightly uncomfortable as I stand naked in front of them. Neither of them seems to care, and I had shared enough powder rooms with women that I shouldn’t be embarrassed, but this was the first time that all the attention in the room was on me.

I climb quickly into the tub and have but a moment to sigh at the relief of the hot water before Rose and Maz were scrubbing my skin clean. The hot water quickly turned a muddy brown. Rose set upon my hair, pulling the pins out and staring at them curiously.

“They’re French.” I almost cringe at my own excuse.

The girl pulls out the rest of my pins that held my hair in place in the two victory rolls that I had perfected during my time in the army. My hair falls against my shoulders. “Are the gals in France wearing their hair short now? With strange waves?”

“Er…” I really needed to stop using that excuse. “No. Just personal preference.”

“Ye have bonnie hair, miss.”

“Rey.” I smile at her just as a bucket of water is dumped over my head.

“A kent the English hated the French, no?”

More tests. It seemed that Maz was in on Chewie’s plan to find my true intentions as a spy as well. “My husband was French.”

“Ah… A French Physician?” Maz chuckled, though I wasn’t sure what the joke was. “Weel, the Scots are friends of the French, lass.”

“Bonnie Prince Charlie.” The thought occurred to me suddenly.

“Wheesht!” Maz hisses. “A wull have none of that Jacobite talk here.”

How close were we to the Battle of Prestonpans? Culloden? Were there people here who were buried beneath my feet only just a few days ago? Did they know that the end to life as they knew it was coming?

Maz stood and grabbed a robe to dry me with. I guess my bath was over. I stood and let her wrap me up in the cloth. Already I felt a hundred times better than before.

In the rush of maids bringing the trunk and water, I hadn’t noticed that there was also a plate of food waiting for me. I dug in eagerly as the two women unpacked the trunk. For the most part, all I could make out was a pile of tartan cloth and cream-yellow undergarments. Maz noticed me watching. “Old dresses of Lady Leia’s. They should suit ye, with a few adjustments.”

I finished my food and stood for them to dress me, suddenly thankful that I was not alone. I was sure to make some sort of dressing blunder that would make them more suspicious of me than they already were. A shift was pulled over my head, then stockings tied below my knees. A surprisingly comfortable front lacing set of stays was tied on to me next, not too tight, but enough to give support. Two layers of woolen petticoats, followed by the tartan skirt that kept out the chill. I slipped my arms through a matching jacket that covered the rest of my stays. The sleeves only came down to my elbows, so Rose added woolen arm warmers. I sat for shoes that were soft and worn from their previous owner. Though I would have preferred my own boots, they were still soaked from the mud and rain.

Rose worked with my hair, pinning and tying it up into what must have been an acceptable hairstyle for me. And when I was done, they stood back to admire their work, nodding their approval. I felt incredibly silly like I was playing a dress-up part.

“Rose, go see if the Laird is ready to see her.”

“Yes, Maz.” The young girl ducked her head and hurried out of the room. I sat down stiffly in the bed, trying to control my breathing. I knew little about the hierarchy of the clansmen, but I knew enough to understand that the Laird was the most important figure in a clan. He made all the decisions, solved all of the problems. I was determined to not be a problem. He needed to decide to send me back to Inverness, and I had to be the one to convince him. I had to play the part of an Englishwoman married to a Doctor who happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Rose returned, and I was carted off through the halls once more. I hoped that this would be my final round of questioning, though I knew that my hopes were far too high.

The room I was led to looked to be an office more than anything, though unlike any I’d seen. Books and papers and trinkets and items from around the words were scattered everywhere. Tapestries and grand paintings hung from the walls. The entire room and its contents dripped with history and I could only imagine what my husband would be saying if he were here right now. My heart breaks at the thought of him.

I had to get back.

Even if I had to fight tooth and nail to get there.

A throat clears and I jump, suddenly noticing the ghost among the ancient items of the room. The man is greying, with a long beard and blue eyes that have seen ages pass before him. He looks as though he has become part of the room itself, a specter against the grey stone.

I bow my head. “My apologies. I did not see you there.”

He grunts a laugh, “Yes, well, I’ve been told I would make a wonderful hermit.”

He’s been carefully tutored, but I can still hear an echo of Scottish brogue in his words. I fold my hands in front of me, trying to look far more relaxed than I felt. I was unsure if I should speak, or if I should let him continue. He gestures to an empty chair in front of a large wooden desk. “Please, Miss Niima.”

So, he’s already spoken to Chewie. I sit, and the moment I do, tea arrives. I graciously take a cup and breathe in the rich scent. I hadn’t known how much I wanted a good cuppa.

“I hope that my men were not too rough with ye. I would like to formally offer the apologies of Clan Adharled and extend our heartiest welcome to our guest.”

Stay awhile, so that we can watch you.  

“Thank you, Laird Adharled. I would like to ask you about finding transportation back to Inverness.”

“Do you have family there?”

“No. I assumed that I would be able to find transportation to London from there.”

“Yes, that is where Chewie said you were from. We can write to any family you may have there to assure them of your safety.” The Laird raises an eyebrow.

“I have no family. I was an orphan. And Henry, my late husband, has no family either. I would be returning to our home in London.”

“Henry?” Adharled drew out the last symbol, looking for a last name. It caught in my throat as the flash of Henry’s eyes that were not his own watched me from the darkness.

“Deschamps. Doctor Henry Deschamps.” Deschamps was the name of my commanding officer, the first French name that came to mind. I refused to give into filling the silence between us.

“I am sorry for your loss, milady.”

“Thank you.” I took a deep breath. “And I would like to thank your men as well, for finding me and saving me from the Englishmen. They were nothing but gentlemen to me. And I would like to thank you for your hospitality. My only wish is to return home to mourn my husband in peace and take care of his affairs.”

My eyes meet his and I find that we’re in a battle of the wills. I’m toeing around politics that I have no knowledge or understanding of. After a minute of considering, he nods. “Who am I to keep a grieving widow from laying her husband to rest? I am afraid that there aren’t many going from here to Inverness at the moment, nor straight to London. I believe that a merchant usually passes through here on his way to London. He should arrive in a month or so.”

All the air rushes from my lungs.

A month.

It’s already been a few days in this lifetime, and I’m longing to grasp a hold of anything to make sense of this all. I force myself to take a deep breath and smile. “Of course. Thank you, Laird Adharled.”

“Please, my guests may call me Luke.”

Read Chapters 1-5 On AO3

[sanders-sides-fics]

In My Dreams: Chapter Five

Warning: reference to dead parents, food, Deceit

Masterlist

Word Count: 1476

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Virgil sighed as he read through the letter Roman sent to him, he could feel the loneliness in his friend’s words. Roman was never very good at hiding how he felt, not from Virgil who had known him for years. Virgil frowned as he realized Roman was truly missing him and promised himself he would write to him and his Dad back as soon as he could. Once he had his father’s journal from the library and got the chance to look at it, he would write to them.

He would write to them now, but he worried that the journal would be gone by the time he went to find it if he waited. The journal was the only thing he had that could tell him about his abilities and maybe even how to use them safely. He could not risk walking around with uncontrolled magic. He didn’t want to hurt anyone.

Virgil set the letter down and looked at the small bundle on his table that came with the letter. He smiled softly, happy that his Dad thought to send him something. The food in Picais was good, but he had missed the taste of his Dad’s cooking. He would have one when he returned from getting the journal. He had been about to go to the library when a servant came by with the letter and package.

“I’ll be back,” he promised himself.

He turned and left his room, tracking his way through the halls to the library. When he found it, he stepped inside and looked around for Mavis. The woman wasn’t in sight, but Virgil stayed vigilant, feeling like he was stealing.

He felt conflicted by taking the journal secretly. It was his family’s library but…. He didn’t remember ever belonging here and it felt wrong to take it. Regardless of how he felt, he had to take the book. Maybe he should share it with Remy, he was the one who knew their fathers…. It could wait. Virgil needed the book more than his brother did right now.

Virgil retraced his way through the library until he came to the shelf he found the journal under. He looked around, and, once satisfied no one was around, he knelt down and reached for the book. He found it under the shelf and stood back up with it in his hands.

He looked around again and startled when Mavis came around the corner.

The old woman chuckled, “Hello, young prince. Find something you like?”

He nodded shyly, holding onto the book tighter, “Can I take it to my room?”

“Yes dear, what is it? So I can note it down,” she asked.

“Just an old journal I found, nothing big.”

Mavis hummed, interested, “I wasn’t aware we had any journals. It must have been hidden, take care of it.”

“I will,” he promised it. “Thank you.”

Virgil quickly fled the library, worried that she would tell Remy he took something from the library. He doubted she would, but the worry plagued his thoughts. He wasn’t even sure why he was worried.

He walked back to his room with a brisk pace. In his room, he settled down at his table and opened the journal once more. He flipped through the pages once more to study the entries. As he began to read, he opened the package from his dad and picked a biscuit to eat. He chewed, mindful of the journal, refusing to get crumbs on the pages.

He smiled at the taste of his dad’s baking, missing the taste in the time they were separated. He was glad his Dad thought to send it to him. Virgil finished the biscuit and grabbed a second one as he read on.

Virgilius is well past his third birthday and yet his magic has only grown. I fear the magic is indeed my son’s own ability and not any residual magic from his birth. At this point, I will continue to monitor my son’s growth and begin to teach him control for his safety and for that of our family.

I do not believe Virgilius would ever harm us intentionally, but I do remember discovering my own abilities when I was young and the destruction that I caused in Sandres when I was taught by someone who did not care for my safety or wellbeing. I refuse to put Virgilius through the same as I was.

However, I will keep his abilities quiet, so word does not reach my old teacher of my son’s powers. I will tell my Emile, but I fear I cannot let Remy know of his brother’s talents, for a young child does not know to keep secrets. It does sadden me to lie to my oldest, but I must in order to protect our family until I am certain the Witch is no threat.

No one else can know until then, I hope that one day, Remy will forgive me for this.

Virgil frowned at the passage, it explained why Remy and Logan were only aware of small parts of his abilities and possible signs. His fathers hid what he could do to protect them but the Witch found out regardless…. But how?

Virgil didn’t like the idea of the Witch finding out despite his fathers’ secrecy. It didn’t sit right with him. He knew he needed to keep this journal to himself, just while he investigated this. After that, then he could share with Remy. Just until Virgil knew the truth.

This was different from Roman and his father. Whatever happened cost his fathers their lives and destroyed their family. Virgil couldn’t let this mystery hurt his family again, not when he and his brother were just brought back together. They weren’t close and Virgil didn’t remember growing up with him, but he wouldn’t let their second chance be torn apart.

He couldn’t tell Remy about this, but maybe he could ask Roman for advice? If nothing else, King Thomas would have an idea of who worked with the Dragon Witch and might be able to tell them both about it. And maybe, this would make Roman talk to his dad.

It helped that King Thomas had faced the Dragon Witch and King Dorian before his father betrayed the Witch. If Virgil could help Roman heal his relationship with his father and begin to piece this mystery together at the same time, he would prefer it. When he wrote to Roman, he would be sure to mention it to him.

Guilt stirred in his stomach at the idea of hiding this from Remy, when it was clear he’d been excluded from a lot of Virgil’s life even before Virgil was lost. Not telling Remy was the best way to keep the situation from getting worse, if it wasn’t already resolved. This way ensured any possible spy did not overhear the conversation until Virgil knew the truth.

If there was a spy, Virgil would confront them. The Witch was gone, but he didn’t want someone who was loyal to her roaming the castle freely after what they cost his family before.

He stood from his chair and left the table to sit at his desk. He pulled out what he needed and began to write to Roman. As he penned the letter, a smile grew on his face. The matter was quite serious but at the same time, he missed trading quips with Roman. His friend was as stubborn as ever, but Gaius was right. He needed the bedrest.

“What’s got you smiling so much?”

Virgil jolted up and dropped his quill out of his hand. He turned his head and saw Remy standing behind him. Virgil relaxed his shoulders and got out of the chair. It was a good thing he hadn’t written in about the spy situation yet, he couldn’t risk Remy finding out about it. Remy could know when it was solved and safe.

“I was just writing Roman, is something wrong?”

Remy shook his head, a small smile growing on his face, “Nothing. So, just writing Roman, huh?”

Virgil blushed and bit his lip, not answering his brother. Remy laughed quietly at the lack of an answer.

“I know you’re not his biggest fan...”

Remy frowned, “We got off on the wrong foot that day. Neither of us was acting right, but he did risk himself to protect us and his kingdom. He can’t be that bad. Especially if you care about him.”

“I- Really?”

Virgil was surprised Remy had completely changed his mind from their first meeting. It wasn’t that long ago, when Virgil thought about it, but Virgil also knew that he had only known Remy for a short while. He didn’t know his brother well enough to make that judgement.

“Really,” Remy confirmed.

Virgil looked his brother in the eyes and smiled. 

[440mxs-wife]

The Play’s the Thing

You drove your royal blue 1968 Chevy Nova home from town to the bunker. You were coming home from rehearsals at the community theater production of Meet Me in St. Louis. You had the lead part of Esther Smith, as was played by Judy Garland in the movie.

You told Dean you were meeting your best friend, Ruthie, for a couple of drinks at the bar on the edge of town. You didn't want to say anything to the boys about being in the play, because you didn't want them to make fun of what you were doing.

Truth is, you liked the theater, because you got to pretend to be a different person. It wasn't the same as what you did impersonating the FBI to question witnesses. That was just a name change. In the theater, you became that person, that character. And you were good at it.

You parked your car in the garage and checked to make sure you had all the make-up off of your face. Good thing you checked, because you still had that brightly-colored lipstick on your lips from rehearsal. You reached into your glove compartment for the make-up removal wipes. Ever since you started rehearsals, you've stored the wipes in there for just this purpose.

Dean looked up and smiled as you came down the spiral staircase. "Hey, baby, how was drinks with Ruthie?" he asked as he wrapped you in his arms.

You leaned in and gave him a glad-to-be-home kiss. "Mmm, it was good. Since I had to drive, I chose to drink soda instead of my usual," you explained. "I missed you," you said softly.

Dean dove in and recaptured your mouth with his, running his tongue along your lower lip to request entry. You parted your lips enough to let him in as he explored your mouth with his tongue. "Missed you too, baby," he murmured. "Come on, dinner is ready. Can you please help me put it on the table?" he asked.

"Absolutely," you replied as Sam, Cas and Jack came in, and upon seeing you, offered you their greetings. You greeted them back as you put dinner on the table. Dean followed behind you with plates and silverware, which Sam set around for him.

"This looks wonderful, Dean. Thank you for making dinner," you said as you nudged his shoulder. He had made a beef roast and vegetables in the slow cooker. Dean nodded and nudged your shoulder in return.

As you took care of the dinner dishes, you practiced one of your songs for the production that had been giving you some trouble. It was The Trolley Song that you were having problems with, remembering the words. When you were in the middle of the song, you turned around to see Dean watching you from the doorway. A smile was on his face as he asked what you were singing.

"It's from my favorite musical, Meet Me in St. Louis. It-It's been kind of on my mind lately, and I guess the song got stuck in my head," you explained.

Dean wandered over to the sink while you continued to wash dishes. He wrapped his arms around you from behind and nuzzled your neck. "I love you," he murmured against your shoulder. You closed your eyes and melted into his touch. "I love you too, Dean," you replied softly.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Weeks went by, and the closer it got to opening night, the later and later at night you had to stay for rehearsals. Dean was becoming a bit concerned at your late hours, and at the fact that you were around less to help with cases. You told him you had decided to volunteer at the local library in town. It was open until 10:00pm, and he seemed to relax a little.

The longer you were coming home late, the more Dean started to wonder if something else was going on with you. He turned to his younger brother for advice.

"Something's not right with her, Sam. She's been coming home late at night, and she's always tired. Her face sometimes has a lot of make-up, and I mean way different than what she usually has on," Dean finished.

"What do you think it is?" Sam asked.

Dean hung his head. "I think she's seeing someone else," he said.

"No way, Dean! Anyone can see how much she loves you. She would never do that to you," Sam replied.

"Then why do I sometimes smell some other guy's aftershave on her shirt? Still think she's not cheating?" Dean retorted.

"Dean, I'm sure there's a logical explanation for what's going on," Sam offered.

"I wish I could believe that, Sam," Dean said sadly.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Sam decided to see what he could find out about what you were doing. One day, he asked to borrow a lore book from you that was on your nightstand in the room you and Dean shared. With your permission, Sam went in to retrieve it and noticed your script from the play sticking out from under the bed. He picked up the script and went to the library to confront you about it.

"What's this?" Sam asked, showing you what else he found in your room.

"Where did you get that?" you whispered.

"It was sticking out from underneath your side of the bed. What are you doing with it?" Sam continued.

"It's nothing, Sam, give it back to me," you demanded.

"Well, if it's 'nothing', then why do you want it back so badly?" Sam countered.

"If I tell you, will you give it back to me?" you asked. Sam nodded.

"I auditioned for the play, Meet Me in St. Louis being put on by the community theater. I got the part of Esther Smith, which is the lead part. All these late nights I've been putting in? Rehearsals. The closer we get to opening night, which is this Friday, the more we have to run lines and make sure everything's in place. So I end up being out later at night," you finished.

"So, you're not volunteering at the library?" Sam asked.

You shook your head. "I told Dean that as a cover for why I was out so late every night. I feel awful for not telling him the truth," you replied, tears threatening.

"Why haven't you told him?" Sam inquired.

"If you remember, I haven't told any of you, either. Only reason you know is because I didn't hide my script well enough," you chuckled. "Truth is, I didn't know how you guys would react. This is something I love and I found out that I'm really good at it. I just didn't want you guys to make fun of me," you said in a small voice.

"We would never do that! We love you and if this is something you really want to do, we totally support you. When and/or how are you going to tell Dean?" Sam wondered.

"For right now, I want to keep things as is. But, I'll get Opening Night tickets for the four of you, best seats in the house. All you have to do is convince him to go, since I know musicals are so his thing," you added with a chuckle.

"I'll see what I can do to get him there. Hey, I know! I'll tell him we're going to see a movie, but I'll bribe George to tell him it's sold out. He'll offer Dean the theater tickets as compensation, then I'll grab them and insist we go to your play. I'll tell him Jack should experience live theater as part of his 'education'," Sam grinned conspiratorially.

You thought for a minute. "That might actually work, Sam. You're kind of an evil genius, you know that?" you remarked.

"Why, thank you. Hey, don't you have rehearsal today?" he asked.

"The director gave us the day off to kind of de-stress before the big push towards Friday. I'm so nervous. I have so many lines, I don't want to forget anything. I'm also hoping my voice holds out for all of the singing I have to do," you replied.

"You'll be fine," Sam assured you. "There's a reason they chose you for the lead, and it's because they are confident that you can pull it off. And don't worry, I'll keep your secret."

"Thank you, Sam. I knew I could count on you," you murmured.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Opening Night came, and you had to try and make it out the door before Dean saw you. With keys in your hand, you made it to the garage, only to see Dean leaning up against your car.

"Going somewhere, sweetheart?" he asked, arms crossed over his chest.

"Headed to town for a couple of things, then I have my volunteer shift at the library. Was there something special you wanted while I was in town?" you added.

"No. But, when you get home, I think you and I need to have a talk," Dean remarked.

"O-Okay, Dean. I'll be home as soon as I can after everything," you replied. "I love you."

"I love you too," he added hoarsely.

On the drive into town, you thought about your garage conversation with Dean. You wondered what he wanted to talk to you about, and why it looked like tears were about to fall. For the time being, though, you had to concentrate on your lines and song lyrics for tonight's performance.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"I told you, Sam, she's seeing someone else!" Dean thundered.

"Dean, she wouldn't do that! She loves you too much to ever break your trust like that," Sam tried to assure him.

"She just left here, saying she'd be home late because of her volunteer shift at the library. You know how I know she's seeing someone else? I went in to the library the other day to surprise her. I didn't see her, so I thought she might be on her break or something. But the head librarian, Mavis, said she hasn't seen her in months. I told her I wanted to talk to her when she got home tonight," Dean remarked.

"Maybe it's not what you think though. You'll find out when you talk to her. So while you're waiting to talk to her, let's go out and do something. We could go to a movie. I think they're showing those David Yeager movies you like so much. I saw that they're having a festival of his films. Come on, Dean, it'll get your mind off of what's going on with you and her," Sam suggested.

"Fine. Let's get Cas and Jack in on this too. The Four Musketeers," Dean replied.

When they got to the ticket counter, George informed them that the David Yeager film festival was indeed sold out. According to plan, he pulled out an envelope and held up the theater tickets you had given Sam.

"Great, we'll take them!" Sam said as he whisked them out of George's hands. He opened the envelope and whistled. "Wow, front and center. Can't ask for better than that."

Dean was walking back to the Impala as if he had no intention of going to the theater. "You guys go. I'm going home to wait to talk to my girlfriend," he said sadly.

"Dean, these are great seats, and there's just enough for all of us. It's good to try something new. You never know, you may find something there you've never seen before," Sam added.

"All right. But if I do this, you have to agree to watch two David Yeager movies with me," Dean replied.

"Done. Let's go," Sam said. The four of them walked to the theater and handed over the tickets. Once they were seated, Sam said he needed to use the restroom and excused himself. He made his way backstage, where he knew you'd be. After some convincing, he was allowed to come back and talk to you. Sam told you that Dean, Cas and Jack were all out front, and that the rest was up to you. You thanked him and sent him back to his seat.

The curtain came up, and you listened intently, waiting for your cue to enter. Once on stage, your eyes wandered over to where Dean was sitting. His eyes locked on yours and his mouth dropped open. You winked at him and went on with your performance.

As the play went on, you glanced over at Sam, Dean, Cas and Jack. Each man had a look of admiration on his face, but you also saw the love in Dean's eyes as he watched you.

At the end of the play, the cast all came out to take their bows. Someone gave you a gentle shove forward, separating you from the rest of the cast. As you took your bows, you blushed, and looked over at your boys. They were all standing up, clapping and cheering their loudest for you.

After you had changed out of your costume and wiped off the make-up, you were invited to go out with some of the cast. You politely declined, telling them that you would be meeting up with your friends and boyfriend.

When you met the boys by the backstage door, you were immediately met with words of high praise. Sam, Cas and Jack all gave you a hug. They told you how impressed they were with your performance and remarked that they didn't know you could do that. Sam glanced at his brother and offered to take Cas and Jack back to the bunker in your car. You handed over the keys and you and Dean parted ways with them.

You suggested going to the diner for a late-night slice of pie. Dean took your hand in his and smiled at you as you walked. You and Dean sat down in your favorite booth and each ordered a slice of pie. While you waited, you asked Dean what he wanted to talk to you about.

"It's nothing, not important anymore," he answered.

"Dean, you seemed upset when I told you I would be home late. Then when you mentioned wanting to talk, I could swear you were almost in tears. Something's wrong, and whatever it is, I promise you can tell me," you assured him, taking his hand in yours.

Dean took a deep breath before answering. "Okay. With all of the late nights, the make-up all over you, Mavis saying you hadn't been at the library in months? I thought you might have been seeing someone else. It sounds ridiculous now, and in my heart I know you would never do that or anything to jeopardize what we have. I'm so sorry sweetheart, and I hope you can forgive me for even thinking something like that."

"There's nothing to forgive, Dean. I guess I can see how you might think that something was going on. It's my fault, and I'm sorry for keeping that from you. I wasn't sure how you'd react, and the theater is something that I'm good at and that I've grown to love.

"But you're right--I would never do anything that would ruin what we have. I love you too much to ever hurt you, especially like that. You are my world, Dean Winchester, and without you, my life just doesn't make sense," you finished.

Dean moved over to sit next to you in the booth. His index finger gently traced along your jawline. "You were amazing tonight," he marveled. "I couldn't keep my eyes off of you. Watching you up there, I've never seen that side of you. Kinda hot and sexy, baby," Dean remarked as he pulled you closer to him.

Your lips met and you felt the depth of his love for you all in that one kiss. He moved from your mouth to kiss that sensitive spot behind your ear. "I have an idea, sweetheart. We should get that pie 'to-go', then adjourn to more private settings, hmm?" he whispered, his breath hot against your skin. All you could do is nod, you were so caught up in his kisses.

Dean signaled for your server and explained that you would like to take the pie with you instead of eating it there. He paid the check, got the pie and you climbed into the Impala, snuggling up close to Dean for the ride home.

You took the pie slices to the kitchen and put them in the fridge for later. You went down the hall to the room you shared with Dean. You sat on the edge of the bed and slipped off your shoes, wiggling your toes.

A few minutes later, Dean walked through the door and over to stand in front of you. Dean hooked his finger under your chin and tilted your face up to look in his eyes. His hand moved to cup your face while his thumb stroked your cheek. "So beautiful," he murmured.

You scooted a little farther up on the bed until you were more in the middle. Dean followed close behind, crawling up to your position so that he was hovering over you. He leaned down to capture your lips with his in a fiery, passionate kiss. Your mouths moved in sync with a hunger neither of you had felt in quite some time. At a certain point, you broke apart long enough for both of you to shed your clothes and meet under the blankets.

"I missed you, Dean. I love you so much," you said between kisses.

"I've missed you too, sweetheart. I love you," he returned.

[greatbigfour]

08. We Hat a Problem

“Onceler! Onceler!” Hiccup burst into the store, shouting at the top of his lungs. “Onceler!” 

“What? What?” The Onceler came out from the back, a confused look on his face. He blinked at seeing Hiccup with the hat in his hands. “Uh, why are you holding the hat? What happened?” 

“Mordu attacked Town Hall and MK used the hat to open a portal to send him back.” Hiccup took a few deep breaths, fighting to hold in his tears. “He, he dragged in MK and Merida with him.” 

Onceler’s eyes widened. “No.” 

“Yes . . . please tell me there’s some way we can get them back! Or, or that there’s another way of contacting the Lorax!” 

Onceler leaned against the wall, looking frail and worn. “I’m, I’m afraid not, Hiccup. That, that was the only way I knew.” 

Hiccup sank down to the floor. “Oh no.” 

Jamie sniffled. “Mom.” JJ placed a hand on his son’s shoulder, but he was so stunned he couldn’t think of anything to say. 

“Listen, those two are a couple of strong willed ladies,” spoke up Jack. “If there’s any way of getting back, they’ll find it. Besides, they’re together, Mordu doesn’t stand a chance.” 

Hiccup smirked softly. “Yeah, yeah, they are.” 

“Besides, Merida knows the lay of the land, it’s not like MK is all by herself.” 

Hiccup nodded as he stood. “This is true too. It’s just that, that . . .”

“You wanted everyone to go back together,” said Rapunzel with a soft smile. 

Hiccup nodded. “Yeah, I did, I do, but also, we don’t know what it’s like back home. How has it changed? Has anything changed? Who’s in charge now? All of that.” He pursed his lips. “They could be walking into a pit of villains for all we know.” 

“Well that’s not true,” came the Lorax’s voice. Everyone yelped. 

“How, how are you doing that?” exclaimed Jack. “MK’s not holding it!” 

“Oh, she just needed to activate our communication, she’s still the only one who can open the portal using the hat.” 

Jack rolled his eyes. “Go figure.”

Rapunzel placed her hands on her hips. “And why didn’t you tell us this earlier?” 

“Because I didn’t think that MK would come through the portal so soon after talking to me!” 

“Well it wasn’t her fault, Mordu dragged her and Merida in!” 

“Is there any way we can get them back?” asked JJ softly, slowly coming out of his trance. 

“To Earth? Yeah, the same portal they sent MK through all those years ago,” said the Lorax. “But I don’t know how that would work for Merida. And that’s if they can even find it on this side. Apparently it vanished when the curse was placed.” 

Hiccup sighed. “And since the curse technically hasn’t been completely broken, you don’t know if it’s back yet.” 

“But how can you not see a door?” asked Rapunzel. 

Jack ran his fingers through his hair. “Oh, right, because this door is hidden in a grove of trees, magic trees. And the Lorax and Manny can’t see everything, right?” 

“Manny sees more than I do, but, yeah, basically.” 

Jack sighed. “You see?” 

“Is there really no other way?” asked JJ. 

“The only other way I can see it, kid, they’d have to wait for the return of Joey Harker and Moana. Otherwise, I’ve got nothing.” 

“You mean you can’t ask Manny to bring them back?” asked Jack. 

“Listen, kid, we all were affected by the curse, Ok? If Manny can’t take you all back now, there’s no way he could bring them to you. We’re powerful beings, kid, but not that powerful.” 

Jack sighed. “Well, it was worth a shot.” 

“It was a good try, but no cigar. No, no, their best bet would be Joey Harker and Moana, it’s just, unfortunately, a matter of waiting.” 

“Do you know how long they had planned to be gone?” asked Hiccup. 

The Lorax sighed. “No, sorry, kid. As soon as they found out about the curse, they took their kid and Shrek and Fiona’s kid and took off to place both of them in safe places.” 

Jamie began jumping up and down. “That’s two more! We just need to know who the seventh kid is!” 

“Huh?” said everyone. 

“Clara’s Aunt Elizabeth took her daughter, mom, and the daughter of Odette and Daniel through the magic door, so there’s three. Pitch brought dad here, there’s four, and Joey Harker and Moana took their kid and Shrek and Fiona’s to a safe place, that’s six! We just need one more!” He glanced around at everyone. “Did anyone else have any kids? Anyone that got sent over?” 

“See, that’s the thing, I don’t know,” said the Lorax. “Those six are the only ones I know of.” 

“Then the seventh is still a mystery,” said Jack. 

“Is there no one you know of who had a kid around the same time as Mom or Dad?” asked Jamie at the same time. 

“Nope,” said Lorax.

“”That does seem odd though,” said Jack, rubbing his chin. “The prophecy said seven . . .” 

“The prophecy will take care of itself, Jack, you just worry about the issues at hand,” mumbled the Lorax. “Prophecies are always known to do that.” 

Jack chuckled nervously. “Fair enough.” 

“But the issue at hand is getting Merida and MK back,” said Hiccup. 

“We do still have Dagur, Drago, and Hans at large,” said Jack. “Why don’t we focus on them and we’ll let Joey take care of Merida and MK.” 

“Can you let Mom and Grandma know that?” asked Jamie. 

“You know what? Why don’t I go down there and give them my hat and let you guys communicate with each other.” 

“Really?” exclaimed HIccup, JJ, and Jamie at once. 

“That would be great!” shouted Jamie. 

“That would be great! Thanks Lorax!” said JJ. 

“How can I ever repay you?” said Hiccup. 

“I’ll think about it. But maybe while your wife and daughter are here, they can look into the spell left by Mavis at the Wizard’s Tower.” 

“And if we can communicate with them, I can tell them where to find it!” exclaimed Mavis. 

“Oh, right, I forgot you were there,” said the Lorax. “But yes, you can talk to each other rather than having me keep relaying messages. I’ve got other things to take care of.” 

“No, you’re just lazy,” quipped Jack. There was a moment of silence. 

“Consider yourself lucky that you’re there and I’m here or else I would give you quite the whooping.” 

“Guess so, because now I can say whatever I want,” said Jack, a cheeky grin spreading on his face. “So, you know, like . . .” 

“Not another word,” warned the Lorax, “or I will find a way over there and give that whooping.” 

“Oh, but Lorax, you do tend to forget quite a few things,” said Rapunzel. “For instance, I’m married to him and can give him the whooping for you.” 

“What?” exclaimed Jack. Hiccup and Onceler burst out laughing. 

Lorax chuckled. “Oh I didn’t forget that, I just can’t let you do all the whooping for me.” 

“Fair enough,” said Rapunzel, shooting her husband a cheeky grin. 

“ALright, I’d better get this hat down there to Merida and MK. Keep your hat close, you might be hearing from them soon.” 

“Thanks Lorax!” they chorused. 

Jack tapped his staff. “Well, let’s go catch some villains.” 

Hiccup nodded. “And I think we should tell Elsa and Anna. They need to know.” The others nodded. They told Onceler goodbye and walked back out of the store. 

“I do hope Mom and Grandma will get back soon, though,” said Jamie. “I wonder what they’re doing now?”

[twoidiotwriters1]

Starcrossed Losers XIX (Josh Wheeler xReader)

A/N: I don’t like angst, yet it’s the only thing I’m able to add at my stories. Also, the vamps are teen-band certified. They had to be in the soundtrack of Josh’ life cause they’re as dramatic and passionate as him. I don’t exactly mean that as a compliment. We’re getting close to the end!

Words: 2,677

Warnings: None!

Previous chapter // Last chapter

I had no way to introduce the song smoothly into the plot so I’ll just attach it here.

It’s four in the morning and the three of us are in my old room. You could say I’m miserable.

This place is even more depressing than I remembered, seriously, why there are so many pictures in my room? What was I trying to prove, that I know how to use a camera? 

Every single picture with Maya in it I took it down, even if this isn’t my room anymore, I don’t want this to remain untouched like it’s worth preserving.

I’m still awake cause I hadn’t finished Wesley’s podcast, and god I wish I hadn’t heard the end.

It got me thinking, everything is out of control right now. One moment we could be sleeping and a second bomb could drop, then none of us would know what happened.

I have been living on wasted opportunities, on ‘what ifs’ and shitty friendships cause I don’t think I’m worth it. Maybe I’m not, but the kids back at the mall are, they are this city’s future, even if that sounds crazy right now. 

I decided I’ll help them, which means I’ll have to help Eli.

I have no choice.

_______________________________

Josh knew he’d fucked up big time.

When he came back after talking to Mavis, he knew that things needed to change, he was pushing people away, it was calculated at first, but now it was out of control and he had lost the only person he wanted to keep around.

It was his fault. There was no way to excuse his behavior, Y/N only wanted to keep him safe, she cared about everyone, something Josh was too self-centered to accomplish.

He regretted every word he’d ever said, to Sam and Y/N. They were good to him, trusted him. Fuck, Sam trusted him enough to sleep with him even if she knew it was his first time. 

Y/N had followed him to a mall where a psychotic killer was threatening to kill them just cause he asked for help... one thing seemed bigger than the other, but priorities shifted dramatically once the world ended, to be fair.

So when he entered the pharmacy only to find the lonely notebook laying on top of the counter, he panicked. Y/N was gone, and now he didn’t have a way to know where she was.

Unless...

Right, it was around 7pm and he had a target painted on his back, but she was worth it, more importantly, she was right.

He was going to fix his own fuck-ups, but first, he had to find Y/N.

So at 9pm, he left the mall.

He went on his skateboard, though it was loud during the night, it was also quieter than cars. He stopped at a store and took several spray cans of bright green paint, ready to start looking.

The question was, where?

Maybe Alex’s house? But he didn’t know where he lived. A house didn’t sound right, she would’ve been more careful than that, Y/N was super smart, so she’d have to be on a safe place that’s also out of any tribe’s territory.

The problem was that most of those areas were difficult to live in, they’re infested with Ghoullies or mutant things. Josh thought carefully, for Y/N, the worst choice wasn’t a Ghoullie-infested area, at least they wouldn’t be smart enough to catch her. She had to make a choice.

Josh started looking in the infested areas.

He wasn’t expecting to just find her and watch as she ran into his arms. Y/N was sick of him, she would be pissed for sure, so he was ready to get extra-roasted. 

He didn’t worry about that, what worried him, was Y/N not wanting to have anything to do with him anymore.

He’d thought things through and he knew (even before Y/N had said it) that Sam would reject him after all those months apart, he was okay with that. Sam had every right to say no.

Did it upset him a bit considering he had lost a finger for her? Yeah, but that was just life being shitty. Like Y/N said, you can always learn from your mistakes.

It’d clearly gone over Josh’s head the first time, but now it was stuck on his mind.

“I'm sorry for the way I behaved And I'm sorry that I let you down again I probably threw it at you I know Yeah I worry you didn't like me anymore”

Actually, it was Y/N L/N who was stuck in his mind in general.

The crazy things she could do, the silly short-overalls that she insisted on wearing were a nightmare, but Josh was now in love with them for the simple reason that they were hers.

He knew he overreacted when Y/N told him Sam was a jock, but it was just that the idea seemed impossible, Sam was too chill for that, she had to be against her will.

So he figured since he couldn’t fix what he had done to her months ago, the least he could do was to save her from Turbo. Afterwards they would be even, and Y/N and Josh would be finally free from any unfinished business.

He would be free to be with her without feeling guilty.

It was around 1am and his hand was starting to hurt from painting the walls on every block. He was also wasting time, what if Y/N had left the city already?

No, he needed to calm down. Y/N didn’t want to leave the city, that’s what she told him before. She was definitely here.

Where the hell was she?

“Alright, ponder,” Josh rested a hand on his knee, closing his eyes for a moment, “fuck, I need sleep...”

She wasn’t around the Ghoulie area, so the next stop was the X-Pug district. There was something about that place that could help him: Y/N’s house was in it and he still remembered how to get there. He hoped he was right.

By 4am his legs were sort of giving up, Josh forced himself to continue, he had about two more streets before he would reach her house and then maybe, if she wasn’t there, he could rest a couple hours and keep searching the next day.

There was obviously no lights on, so he whisper-yelled.

“Y/N?” He looked around to make sure he was threat-free, “Y/N?”

Josh wasn’t religious, but he felt the touch of god on his chest when a pair of shiny eyes peered over the second-floor window.

_____________________________________

Well, look what the bitch-wind brought to my humble home.

“Josh?” I frown, getting up from my desk chair, “What the fuck are you doing outside my house?”

“I had an epiphany”

“You had an- have you slept at all?”

“No, but I’m not crazy!” He tilts his head, “Well I did see my dad for a moment, but I think I imagined that...”

“Leave,” I say simply, “I don’t want to talk to you, I’m done.”

“I know you are”

“I won’t help you save Sam”

“I wasn’t going to ask you that.”

“What do you want?” I hiss.

“Can you... come down for a moment?”

I’m tired, but my heart is also hammering against my chest. 

He came for me, he’s here for me.

I hope I’m not wrong.

“Hold on,” I reply with a neutral expression.

_____________________________

At last, he had found his savior. 

Y/N appeared at her doorstep with her arms crossed, glaring at Josh.

“So?”

“Uh, yes?” His hands were sweating profusely.

“What do you have to say to defend yourself?”

“I'm sorry that I pushed you away And I'm sorry, I couldn't give you everything And I need you just to try to understand I let you take from me it all, it's just I feel like half a man”

“I...” Josh gulped, giving one step forward, “my brain is the size of a bean”

Y/N’s frown deepened.

“Okay?”

“I have tons of issues. We said it was nice to be around each other cause we understood, we knew,” He explained slowly so the words wouldn’t get all mixed in his head, “But after a few days I watched as you evolved into this super cool version of yourself: you had this new outfit and a new identity on which you were comfortable. You got over your problems and everything just seemed to be... going so well for you.”

“So it’s my fault?” Y/N scoffed.

“No!” Josh was quick to respond, “What I’m saying is that we promised to fix our stuff, and we were supposed to find out together. I fucked up. I let you do the whole work while you fixed your own issues and I stood there on big denial, focusing on other things.”

Josh stepped closer to her, Y/N remained still.

“I know I put everything on your shoulders and let you do the work, that was such a huge dick move I can’t even pretend to have a reason for that, I just need you to know that I’m sorry. I regret all the things I said. It’s all a lie, you do know me. You know me and it scared the crap out of me. When you said Sam could be a jock my mind knew you had a good point, but I got scared”

“I’ve been scared too,” She replied harshly, “I was terrified to stay around, I was shitting my pants just thinking of what could go wrong if I decided to give in to what I really wanted.”

She looked up to the sky, maybe trying to find an answer.

“This won’t work, Josh. Not if we keep pushing each other away in our own little ways, you with your words and me... doing it literally.”

“Then... now what?”

“And now I found That I've tried, tried my best just to keep you around But the weight of the world keep on dragging me down”

“Now nothing,” Y/N’s eyes avoided his, “do your thing and I’ll do mine. Fix your issues, then maybe we’ll have a chance. You have to make up your mind, Josh. Where is your heart?”

He knew the answer to that, but it wasn’t much of a difference if Y/N didn’t know. He could live all his life like this and still not be with her because she doesn’t have a way of knowing.

How could he tell her without actually tell her, now that his words lacked truth in her eyes?

He was still thinking about it when Y/N spoke up again.

“Did you know that Triumph dethroned Turbo?”

It took him a moment to understand what she’d said.

“What?”

“We saw it this afternoon,” Y/N shook her head, “we don’t know how did he escape, but now he’s the tribe’s leader. Your wishes became reality, Sam is truly in danger”

He didn’t like the way her voice sounded in the last part, but that wasn’t important at the moment.

“You know what he’s planning to do?”

“We don’t,” Y/N shrugged, “nothing good for sure... Eli found us there, he wanted to convince me to go back and kick you out of the mall, he’ll be pleased to see you’re already out.”

Josh looked over to the window on the second floor.

“Is he in there with you?”

“Yes, so is Alex,” She stayed silent for a second, Josh saw a question forming on face, “How did you find me?”

He smiled for the first time in the day.

“The day we made our group project I took you home in my mom’s car, remember?”

“I didn’t think you’d remember,” Y/N replied honestly, “it’s been a while”

“My bean-brain can hold any information as long as it has to do with you.”

He thought he saw a glimpse of her smile for a second, it didn’t last enough.

“It’s late, you should come in and rest”

“I’m fine”

“You haven’t slept, I know,” Y/N stepped aside so he could get in, “I can see the dark circles under your stupid puppy-eyes.”

“Was that a compliment?” He teased lightly.

“Get your ass in before I feed you to the mutant pug,” She waited until he was fully seated in the living room, “for the record, I’m still upset. This does not mean you’re forgiven, and it definitely doesn’t mean I want to keep our... thing, going on, you got it?”

“I got it”

“Goodnight,” She replied, going upstairs.

“Y/N?” She looked down to where Josh was, he hadn’t moved to lay on the couch, “I promise I’ll make things right”

She raised her eyebrows.

“Let’s see how it turns out.”

_______________________________

It’s morning time!

Well, it’s ‘acceptable-hour-of-the-morning-to-be-up’ time.

I wake up in my own bed, I see Alex sleeping beside me and it’s almost like we went back in time to those good days when we had sleepovers. However, we know that’s not true.

I sit on my bed and realized there’s something missing: Eli.

Thinking that maybe he woke up before us and found Josh sleeping in my living room, I get up quickly, afraid that he might have cut his throat while he was still sleeping.

I accidentally kick Alex on my way out, he wakes up in confusion, asking me if my mom’s making breakfast.

“I sure hope not,” I reply with irony, “cause she’s been dead for half a year”

“What?” He opens his eyes and looks around, suddenly coming back to the present, “Sorry, I was dreaming with-”

“The past?” I ask while I put on my converse, “I figured you were.”

“Where are you going?” He sits.

I explain to him briefly what happened last night while they were sleeping and how I’m about to check if Eli hasn’t killed Josh. Alex decides to join me and while we walk downstairs I see his little smirk.

“Don’t you dare,” I warn him, “I know what you’re thinking”

“And what am I thinking?”

“I told you so,” I huff, “like you’re some kind of wise Dr. Love”

“You know I’m right”

“He came for me, big fucking deal. He also spent six months looking for Sam, he does these things all the time, it doesn’t mean he cares”

“They not here,” Alex stops in the living room, “and there’s no blood, so we can assume they didn’t kill each other.”

I walk into the kitchen and my eyes land on the fridge, they left a note stick to it with a magnet.

“Alex?” I say, “There’s a note...”

I grab it and read it, not waiting for my friend’s reply.

‘Y/N,

Eli found me downstairs and tried to kill me. It’s alright, I told him you let me in. He was upset, he has reasons, I kicked him out of his home.

I told you I’m going to fix things, so I convinced Eli to help me get to the school safely so we can put Triumph back in a cage and the jocks (yes, Sam too) can have a better life, not one as slaves of a cannibal adult. He is also willing to let the kids stay and share the mall with him, along with Wesley, Angelica, and Ms Crumble if they decide to return. In exchange, I promised that I won’t.

Last night you asked me about where my heart is, I hope that once you leave the house, you get the answer. 

I don’t have the best taste in music according to the witch, so I can’t leave you secret messages hidden inside lyrics like you did for me on our Homecoming do-over. Still, I hope the message is readable, cause otherwise, I forced Eli to help me on a useless mission.

DON’T try to find us, we have it under control.

-Josh.’

“Y/N?” Alex calls me from the front door, “come see this...”

I put the note in my pocket and follow his voice.

“What’s...” I walk out of the house and gasp, “fucking bastard.”

In front of us, bright-green letters spell the phrase:

“IT’S WITH YOU”

It’s painted on every entrance, on the asphalt is he wrote the biggest one, his handwriting unmistakable. 

That sure answers my question.

“You know what that means?” Alex stands next to me.

"Yes," I say breathlessly, "it means we have to help Eli and Josh stop Triumph."

“Are we saving the world?” He smirks.

“We’re saving the world.”

Taglist.

@letsbloodmagic @slythermyg @loving-u-3000​

[lailannajacobs]

Empire of Angels | Part Four

Pairing: Bucky x ofc!Amelie Novak 

Summary: Amelie Novak moved from New York to Boston to escape a shitty ex and to get a killer story. She just didn’t realize she’d meant that literally. 

Warnings: Mainly fluff! 

Word Count: 5.5k 

A/N: Bit of a long one today, but I think you’re going to like it! At least I hope you do! Always love to hear what you think!! <3 

Empire of Angels | Part Four 

Amelie had learned a few pickpocket skills from a criminal she’d interviewed a couple years back and had kept up with them knowing they’d be useful one day. Her skills weren’t exceptional, not even close to have worked on someone like the Winter Soldier, but there was nothing a little close flirting couldn’t do to distract most men. She’d been hoping when she’d seen the outline in his pants pocket that she’d find a credit card, but the hotel key she’d picked up was second best. Actually, she quickly realized he probably only used cash and fake names, which meant that she’d hit the jackpot. Now she could actually find him. Not that Amelie had any idea how long he’d be staying in Boston. Hopefully Barnes’ target would give him a run for his money, and he’d be stuck here longer than his usual missions.

Weaving her way through the crowd, she made it to the bathroom without attracting Barnes’ attention and locked herself into an empty stall. The card wasn’t from a well-known chain, but she hadn’t expected any different. At least this way, when she asked about Barnes, the receptionist might have an idea who she was asking about.

She took out her cellphone and snapped a picture of the card, front and back, knowing she couldn’t keep it. If Barnes realized his card was missing, he wouldn’t hesitate to change hotels. She was going to have to find a way to get it back to him without raising suspicion. How the hell was she going to do that?”

Staring at the smudged, crass writing on the stall for inspiration, Amelie sat on the toilet, unsure of what to do. If she was dealing with anyone other than the Winter Solider, she would have felt confident in her abilities, but not when going up against him. She let out humourless chuckle. He wasn’t like any other man she’d met. At least he’d warned her.

If only someone else could get the card to him…someone he wouldn’t suspect. Sniffling in the stall beside her gave her an idea. It would probably take a lot of convincing and a shit-ton of luck, but maybe it was just crazy enough to work. She just had to hope the woman beside her was as crazy as she was.

Amelie stood, smoothed out her shirt and opened the stall to knock on the one beside her, “Are you all right in there?”

There was a long pause that almost made Amelie decide she’d have to find some other plan, but the voice on the other side let out a pitiful, “Me?”

“Is there someone else in there?” Amelie winced, knowing she’d have to be a little more sympathetic than that, “I don’t mean to intrude…I heard you and thought I’d ask.”

“Yes. No. I don’t know,” The woman said through sniffles.

Amelie needed to get her out of the stall soon. She was running out of time - she might even be out of it if Barnes had already left the bar.

“Want to talk about it?” Amelie offered, “I’m a good listener. Why don’t you come out?”

There was no answer, but the door opened to reveal red rimmed eyes and smudged blue mascara. Her tight black dress was barely long enough to be considered a dress and her hair was crêped high enough to make half of jersey’s women jealous. But even the smudged make-up and tears couldn’t hide the tenacity and anger in this woman’s eyes. She would be perfect.

“What happened?” Amelie asked, stepping aside to let her use the mirror.

She sucked in a deep breath and rolled her shoulders back, “He was a fucking bastard that’s what. The asshole cheated on me, and with Rhonda of all fucking people! Can you fucking believe it?”

Amelie shook her head as if she knew who Rhonda was.

“And he had the fucking audacity to tell me on our anniversary,” She wiped the mascara from under her eyes, “And I was so fucking surprised, that I just sat there and nodded along like it was actually my fucking fault until he left.”

“That bastard,” Amelie echoed.

“And here I am, fucking pissed, and he’s god knows where. Fuck! I’m such a mess,” She clenched the mascara wand in her hand, staring at her reflection as if could tell her who she was.

Amelie put a hand on her bare shoulder and smiled sympathetically at her in the mirror, “I understand that…I had a pretty shitty last relationship myself. But I think I have something that might help.”

“You do?”

“Trust me. It won’t be as good as the real thing, but it’ll be the next best thing. And I’ll be honest with you, it’ll help me get back at my asshole ex too,” Amelie lied, knowing it was the exact thing the woman needed to hear to seal the deal.

She nodded with a smile, “I’m in. Let’s send these fucking assholes back to hell.”

Amelie leaned against the wall in the back corner of the bar, the shadows covering her presence. Mavis - the woman from the bathroom who’s name she’d quickly learned - strode across the bar with purpose, her make-up near perfect and her hair about an inch taller. To anyone else, Mavis looked like she’d been partying most of the night and nothing more. Amelie grinned. Barnes had no idea who he was up against.

Mavis beelined for a jacked twenty something man in the far corner of the room. Amelie had pegged him earlier after watching him grab the waitress’s ass. The slurs he continued to shout at her for the rest of the night meant that Amelie couldn’t find it in her to feel bad for what was about to happen.

The slap of Mavis’ long manicured fingers across the asshole’s cheek resonated through the bar, and if that hadn’t caught everyone’s attention, her high-pitched screeching did; even the Winter Soldier stopped to look at what was going on.

“You fucking jerk!” She shouted, watching the man sputter as he tried to recover from the slap, “I can’t fucking believe you! On our anniversary! And with my best fucking friend of all people! You’re a fucking piece of trash and I hope you rot in hell!”

They guy recovered, glaring at her, “What the hell is going on? I don’t even know you! Crazy bitch!”

“So mature, Carl. Pretending like you don’t even fucking know me. I don’t need this and I sure as hell don’t need you. Next time do a better job at hiding your fucking evidence,” Mavis flicked the hotel card at his chest and spun on her heel.

Amelie could tell Mavis was trying hard to keep a straight face as she walked by and out of the bar. That random guy hadn’t actually been her Carl, but at least she’d gotten to yell at someone.

Barnes, patting his pockets, blanched when he realized who’s card she’d just found. Amelie sunk further into the shadows when he looked around, probably trying to find her. His brows furrowed when he turned up short and she sighed with relief. Amelie had been lucky that Barnes kept his money in the same pocket as the card and that he’d likely assume that the card had fallen out when he’d gone to pay for a drink. As long as he didn’t see her leave the bar, she wouldn’t be a suspect.

The sputtering asshole turned to his friends, cursing loudly between gulps of beer, the key card long forgotten on the ground behind him. Barnes wouldn’t get it right away, the odds of starting a bar fight too likely, probably jeopardizing whatever he’d come here to do.

Amelie would have liked to stay for the rest of the night, but it was too risky. If she wanted to use the information she’d gotten tonight, she couldn’t draw any more attention to herself. Amelie considered the night a success, grinning. She would have to buy Mavis a bottle of wine for that performance.

“So, what did you find?” Amelie yawned when she walked into the office the next morning.

“I don’t think this is something we could be talking about in the office,” Karla glanced up from her laptop, her eyes lighting up when she noticed the second cup of coffee in Amelie’s hands.

“Maybe,” She handed over the coffee and rubbed her eyes with her free hand, “But I’m just too tired to care right now.”

Karla kept typing on her laptop, “What did you do after I left you apartment last night?”

“Went to a bar,” Amelie almost told her she’d seen Barnes but kept her mouth shut. The less Karla knew the less danger she’d be in. And maybe it was also a little bit because Amelie didn’t want to share her encounters with anyone else. She doubted Karla would understand either way, “Stayed way too late.”

“Did you find anything interesting?” Karla stopped, looking up.

“Nothing yet,” Omissions didn’t count as lies, “What about you? Any patterns?”

Karla looked around nervously, “Carey is going to kill us if we don’t have our stories in by noon.”

Amelie shrugged off her coat. “Mine’s handed in.”

“What?” Karla glanced at her laptop as if she’d magically finish her own article, “When did you have time to do it?”

“Yesterday. At the bar,” Amelie shrugged.

Karla shook her head incredulously, “I don’t get you.”

Amelie grinned, “Thank you.”

“I’m still not telling you what I found until work’s done,” She said, getting back to her laptop after a sip of coffee.

“So you did find something!” Amelie leaned over the cubicle, waking up for the first time all day.

“What did she find?” Arnie asked, sauntering over with a false grin on his face.

Karla stared at Amelie with wide, panicked eyes but Amelie wasn’t fazed.

“Karla found a way to get the milk to stop sticking to the bottom of the pot when making custard. Turns out you just have to boil some of the sugar with the milk instead of beating it all with the egg yolks. Who knew, right Arnie?”

He nodded, his disappointment clear, “Yeah…who knew?”

“I swear I’ve been making it wrong my whole life. I’ve been making my life so much harder than it had to be. Did you know” Amelie continued blabbering, hoping to bore Arnie out of his mind.

It didn’t take long for him to grab the moment she took a breath to tell her he needed to get to this really, really important story he was working on. Amelie nodded enthusiastically and looked over at Karla, who shook her head with a small smirk on her lips.

One day Karla would get used to Amelie’s not-so-conventional tactics. Even though she was desperate to know what Karla had found out, she knew Karla was right and that work wasn’t the place to get into it. And she really didn’t want to get Karla fired because she was doing work for her instead of for Cary.

Amelie considered going up to Cary to ask him for another assignment but decided against it. Until he assigned some other unimportant fluff peace for her to work on, she could focus on Barnes.

“Sergeant Barnes didn’t defect.”

Amelie almost dropped the kettle filled with boiling water, “What?”

Karla nodded as if this was no big deal, sifting through Amelie’s selection of teas.

“And you waited this long to tell me?” Amelie practically yelled.

She shrugged and chose a tea, “I wasn’t going to tell you at work, and it seemed like the kind of thing to say when we were settled in.”

“How did you manage to find out?” Amelie snatched the bag or earl grey from her hand and dumped it into the teapot unceremoniously, “I thought everything on Barnes was more than classified.”

“Yeah…”

Amelie stopped her pouring at looked at Karla, who was most definitely avoiding eye contact. Their laptops were set on her kitchen table amongst a spread of papers, pens and a bowl of popcorn, none of which Karla seemed to be focused on despite actually looking directly at them. Amelie didn’t need her gut instinct to know Karla wasn’t in a sharing mood.

“And how exactly did you get his classified information?” She asked, watching Karla intently.

She shrugged, “A friend of mine has pretty high clearance…”

“High?” Amelie raised a brow, “It has to be more than high to get this kind of information.”

Karla fiddled with a napkin, “She may have taken the liberty to get the information another way.”

“But it’s legit?”

Amelie knew there was definitely more to this ‘friend’ of hers, but she didn’t push the matter. Not now, when there were other more important things to figure out. After that.

“Yes, it’s legit.”

“Good,” Amelie nodded and began pulling up documents on her own laptop, “Do you have the file?”

The silence stretched out for so long that Amelie almost repeated her question, thinking Karla hadn’t heard, but she was staring at her, wide-eyed.

“What?” Amelie asked.

“Aren’t you going to tell me that what I did was wrong?”

“No,” Amelie shut her computer and gave Karla her full attention, “If you could have gotten this legally, you would have?”

Karla didn’t hesitate, “Yes.”

“And did anyone get hurt in the process?” Amelie continued.

“Not yet,” Karla pursed her lips, “Or that I know of.”

That last comment made Amelie wonder what kind of friends Karla had but it didn’t matter, “Exactly. You did what you needed to get to the truth. Sometimes it’s not always conventional. Show me the file?”

Karla pulled it up on her laptop and slid it across the table so that she could get a good look. Amelie read it, paused, then read it again just to be sure.

“Can I print this?”

Karla shrugged and poured herself another cup of tea. Even staring at the printed version, Amelie still couldn’t quite believe what she was seeing. She’d known something was weird, but she hadn’t expected this.

“Weird, isn’t it?” Karla asked, breaking the silence.

Amelie nodded, thinking, “You’re sure this file is legit?”

“One hundred percent,” She affirmed, “My friend wouldn’t have gotten me anything less.”

“This says Barnes died in combat eight years ago: body never retrieved.”

“Train accident in the alps,” Karla continued, reciting the rest of the file as if she’d memorized it, “No known missions at the time.”

Amelie flipped through more files, “Do you know what unit he was a part of? I found something about the 107th infantry unit but apparently that was deactivated years ago.”

“I was wondering the same thing, so I asked my friend to dig a little deeper. We found a note that said something about CS. I didn’t ask how, but my friend figured this out: they’re an off the books squad of about a dozen seriously tough guys, half of them heads of their own units before this one. The two leading men were Captain Steve Rogers and Marine Frank Castle, with Barnes and Russo - another marine - as seconds. My friend couldn’t get me those files, but I got a look and all four men were marked down as dead in combat. Apparently, they had defied orders and went off without the rest of their squad or backup, and none came back,” Karla raised as brow, the look on her face saying she didn’t believe there wasn’t more to that story.

Amelie ran her hand through her hair, trying not to pull at it, “So the U.S government assumes they died because they defied orders? Or because they followed orders and they couldn’t find the bodies - the proof. Then Barnes turns up on some security camera years after the assassination of the Belgian Prime Minister - which they later linked to him. When he does, the big news outlets are pressuring the military for some explanation and they come up with a fake one that takes all the fault from them. Right?”

“Right. And they wouldn’t even have to come up with a fake file,” Karla began, “Any high enough ranking officer gives a speech or talks to the press ‘under wraps’ and then it’s considered legitimate.”

Amelie felt herself getting swept up in the idea, “And when they figure out that Barnes is alive, they don’t change the file because they might even be as confused as we are.”

Karla pulled up a different file and turned the screen to face her, “Here’s what I don’t get; seven years ago, they thought he was dead, but soon realized he wasn’t. What did Barnes do in those three years between his ‘death’ and his first kill?”

“Maybe there were kills before that, but they weren’t linked to him?” Karla continued when Amelie said nothing.

“Maybe.”

They sat in silence, both mulling over the new evidence.

“Something about that three year-gap doesn’t add up,” Amelie mused, “We’re missing something important.”

“What are you thinking?” Karla asked.

“Put yourself in his shoes. You’re a sergeant, twenty-six years old, no family, no responsibilities, just your work and your friends - who are presumable overseas with you. Why leave a good paying job? Sure, it’s no mercenary’s salary, but it’s not like he has a sick relative or some other reason that would be ‘worth’ the price of murder. Could Barnes really just boil down to greed and nothing more?”

Amelie refused to believe that. The man she’d crossed paths with couldn’t be boiled down to something as simple and boring as money. But really, he could. Just because she didn’t have the common sense to be afraid of him, didn’t mean she actually knew him. Amelie knew nothing about him other than he was rude, grumpy and far more soft-spoken than she’d expected for a soldier. Even though she didn’t believe it for a second, he could be putting on an act the same way she was.

“And then we have that weird switch in victims…” Amelie sighed and flopped back onto her sofa.

There were so many questions and not enough answers. Amelie had known this story wouldn’t be easy, but she’d at least expected to get somewhere.

Karla’s brows furrowed.

“What is it? Amelie demanded, trying not to get to get her hopes up by that look.  

Karla placed the list of Barnes’ kills in front of Amelie, drawing a line after the first third, “What if this change is a change in profession; a change from mercenary to vigilante. We said last time that looking at him like a serial killer is out best bet, well, what if he’s not working for anyone. He starts off working for someone else, gets tired of it, and decides to ‘redeem’ himself?”

Amelie had a feeling that there was something off with Karla’s theory, but she didn’t say anything. They needed all the theories they could get and when she thought about it, Barnes hadn’t told her who he was working for. Wanting to avoid the queasy feeling she was getting, she turned their attention to a different question.

“What about the three years between his ‘death’ and his first kill? Why wait so long?”

“What if he was in the hospital?” Karla nodded, warming up to the idea, “What if - whatever happened in Europe - almost left him dead, but somehow he ends up in the hospital and when he figures out the military has abandoned him, he decides to go rogue.”

“Maybe…that would make sense. Probably our best bet right now,” Amelie scribbled the theory into her journal, “So the guy almost dies, wakes up to find that the army has abandoned him, decides to work as a mercenary as payback then kind of grows a conscious and becomes a serial killer vigilante?”

Karla grimaced, “When you say it like that, it sounds crazy.”

“It’s our best theory at the moment. Did you find anything on Goulson?” Amelie decided to change the subject completely, not liking the theory she had scribbled into her notebook.

She couldn’t pinpoint why, but her gut was telling her she was missing something. Something big. And she also wanted there to be more to Barnes than the few words on her paper. He had been far too interesting for her to believe he could be summed up by revenge, greed and a violent change of heart. But her brain was also starting to hurt, and she knew she wasn’t going to get anything more on the subject tonight.

“Honestly your article probably had the most information on Goulson I could find,” Karla said, “I could try and find more if you’d like.”

Amelie closed her eyes, “Sure, yeah, talk to your friend. Maybe he can find something I missed.”

“You okay? You look a little distracted.”

“Yeah I’m fine.” Amelie forced a smile, “I just feel like I’m missing something important you know?”

Karla nodded sympathetically, “Yeah I know.”

“If only I could just ask him” Amelie mumbled, not realizing she spoke the words aloud until Karla choked out a laugh.

“Yeah, somehow I doubt you’d live to tell the tale.”

Amelie lifted her eyes, but Karla was already focused on her computer again, having dismissed Amelie’s words without a second thought. The Winter Solider was reputed to be dangerous and violent. There was no way Karla would take her statement seriously.

But Amelie had been serious, even if she knew there was no way she could ever ask Barnes for answers. He’d never give them up willingly. She knew she needed to see him again though. He held missing pieces that she wasn’t going to get anywhere else.

“I heard Cary changed your section in the paper?” Karla said, interrupting her thoughts.

“Yeah,” Amelie smiled, thinking Barnes would be pretty amused if he heard, “Jacobs is out for the next two weeks on sick leave so I’m taking over the sports column.”

“How did that happen?”

Amelie shrugged as if it was no big deal, “No clue.”

Karla didn’t seem to think anything of it and got back to her research.

Jacobs going on sick leave was - even if it was unfortunate for him - the best thing that could’ve happened at the moment. Amelie had had to beg and pester Cary the whole day, but eventually he’d agreed to give her the column until Jacobs came back. If her job involved watching the games, then who said she couldn’t do if from a certain pub. Sure being at the game itself would make a better column, but she was only filling in for two weeks. No one was going to mind if it wasn’t stellar. Amelie was banking on the fact that Barnes had to be at that pub and if she had her name on an article as her alibi for being there too, well, it wouldn’t draw the suspicion from her completely, but at least it would help.

**

Even though she’d be going to the game tonight, Amelie had decided to stake out Barnes’ motel. She’d parked her car in the lot of another sketchy motel across the street for most of the day now, and Barnes was nowhere to be seen. If she hadn’t gone in earlier to confirm with the clerk that a man matching his description was staying in room six, then she would’ve decided he’d skipped town. The fact that he hadn’t only confirmed her theory that he still had bigger fish to fry.

The game was an hour away and Amelie still needed to go to her apartment and get ready before heading to the bar. She sighed, annoyed he hadn’t made an appearance, but convincing herself that he’d show tomorrow. Pulling the car out onto the boulevard, Amelie could shake the feeling of disappointment. Where had he been all day? Had she simply missed him? She’d been there all day and hadn’t seen or heard anything.

The light ahead turned red and she slammed on the breaks, realizing she’d been lost in thought. She glanced left to make sure she had the right of way to turn before she could turn and froze, her pounding heart the only thing that worked. Sitting in the black SUV beside her was the exact man she’d been looking for all day.

His eyes widened when he recognized her and he looked like he was opening his mouth to say something, so she sped off, terrified he’d realize she was staking out his motel. They were a five-minute drive away from the motel, but she wasn’t willing to risk it. When she was almost back at her apartment and certain he hadn’t followed her, she eased off the gas, realizing how stupid she’d been. If she’d held back, she could have gotten his licence plate number. At least she knew what kind of car to look for - that was if he didn’t swap out his car now that she’d seen him. Amelie still felt that uneasy feeling coursing through her veins, but she tried to ignore it. She had a game to watch tonight and a mercenary to observe.

*

“Another one, Amelie?”

She smirked, “Knox, you treat me so well.”

“I try darlin’” The bartender shot her a knowing grin, pulling the bourbon from the shelf, “Can’t have a pretty lady like you going thirsty.”

She slid her empty glass across the bar, earning a wink in return. Despite the Friday night game and packed bar, Amelie had found a cozy spot at the corner of the bar, her phone out to take notes on the game. Barnes hadn’t shown up, but the night was still early. There was still time.

Typing up a few quick notes after Boston’s third missed free throw of the first quarter, she took a sip of the drink Knox had poured for her. Amelie had learned a long time ago - when she’d been a bartender herself - that no one knew as much information as the bartender. Befriending them was never a bad decision, even if Knox’s loyalties did lie with the Irish Mob. He wouldn’t give her anything on Goulson, but she doubted he’d feel any remorse on turning over the Winter Soldier. As long as it didn’t hurt the mob, he could turn out to be an extremely useful source of information.

She almost called him over to ask how often he’d seen Barnes this week when she felt someone ease into the barstool beside her. Her heartbeat picked up. She didn’t need to turn to see who was there. It was almost as if he radiated the kind of danger and excitement that had her blood pounding in anticipation.

Amelie tilted her head, letting it loll to the side to get a good look at Barnes. He wasn’t looking at her, but at Knox, signalling for a whisky on the rocks. His hair was an unkempt mess, falling partly in his eyes, down to his strong jaw, which was covered in a light stubble as if he hadn’t shaved in a few days. He was a far cry from the clean-shaven soldier she’d seen on his military ID, but she couldn’t say it was a bad look.

When he got his drink, his gaze slid over toward her, cool blue eyes curious. Amelie kept staring unabashedly, thinking two things. One; she didn’t mind the view and two; if he’d come over to say something, she’d wait until he did first. The bar burst into cheers, probably from a successful three-pointer, but he didn’t flinch at the sound, never breaking eye contact. She narrowed her eyes at him. The corner of his mouth quirked up.

“Would you care to explain what you were doing this afternoon?” He asked, raising a brow.

She shrugged, “Research. What about you, Sergeant?”

“Research,” He echoed. She couldn’t decide if it was in disbelief or if he was also telling the truth, no matter how vaguely, “And what about that research of yours, Novak?”

“Oh, you know,” She waved a hand, “Just sports.”

He chuckled, and this time she was sure he didn’t believe her.

She grinned, “I thought I told you I was still stuck doing the sports column. Turns out that little article about you didn’t get me that promotion I wanted.”

He licked his lips as if he was trying to keep a smile off his face, “That’s too bad. Though it’s kind of hard to believe after that little article.”

“Oh, I only put that out because I happened to fall upon something vaguely interesting and I was really bored,” She unlocked her phone and showed him her notes on tonight’s game, “If you read the paper tomorrow, you’ll find my name right there in the sports column. Why else do you think I’m here tonight?”

“And here I thought you were here to see me,” He took a long sip of his drink.

“You told me to stay away,” She leaned further into the innocent act, “Why on earth would I come here to see you?”

He moved so close that his hair brushed against her cheek and levelled his gaze to hers so that when he looked up at the TV screen he could barely see, “Because you’d actually be at the game tonight if you really wanted to see anything.”

“True, but the Garden doesn’t have a bartender half as good as Knox,” She said, nodding toward Knox, who caught her look and winked back.

“You come here for the bartender?”

She laughed at his tone, “You don’t seem to believe me.”

“I underestimated you once,” He titled his head to look her in the eyes, their faces so close she noticed flecks of green in his eyes, “I don’t plan on doing it again.”

“That’s a smart move, Sergeant,” She murmured.

He leaned back, “To your disappointment.”

She chuckled, surprised by the fact that it was real, “Yes, to my disappointment. Why are you here, Barnes?”

“For the bartender of course,” The corner of his mouth twitched upward.

She leaned in a little closer, “Aren’t you in a good mood tonight.”

His smile dropped and he backed off even further. Amelie immediately wanted to take her words back, but because she couldn’t she rephrased her question, “Why are you here, sitting beside me? I’m sure a man like yourself would have other, more important things to be doing with his time.”

Her question seemed to put him more at ease, though his stiff posture told her that however much he’d let his guard down before wasn’t going to happen again, “I’m here because this is the second time we’ve seen each other today.”

She fluttered her lashes, “I’m not sure what you mean.”

“Are you sure?” He drew out the words, leaning in as he spoke.

Amelie pretended to think about it for a moment, “Yes. I’m sure.”

He narrowed his eyes, “Why are you here, Novak?”  

“A great story,” She replied honestly. When his eyes widened in surprise, she continued, “Though the game is only beginning, so I can’t be sure that I’ll be able to get something worth writing about tonight.”

His gaze flickered to the screen and back, “And what happens if nothing good happens by the time the buzzer goes?”

“Then I do my best to write something with what I’ve got.”

“Will it even be worth it?” He asked, playing along with the analogy, “To submit something that has nothing good in it?”

She traced the rim of her glass with her finger, “I have a feeling that won’t be a problem. The game has been pretty interesting so far.”

“Interesting,” He echoed with one of his little huffs that she now knew was something akin to a laugh, “But didn’t you say you wanted to stop doing sports stories? I think you should get out of the game and let the professionals do their job.”

“I’m more qualified that you think, Sergeant,” Amelie jut her chin up.

He leaned in closer, cornering her between the wall, the bar and his body. What little humour was there, vanished, “I don’t doubt that in the slightest, but I don’t think you understand how qualified you need to be to get the job done.”

She stared into those piercing eyes, refusing to back down, “I’m not afraid of getting hurt.”

“Obviously,” He snapped, “But you should be.”

She rolled her eyes, “Your threats are getting old.”

“They’re not sinking in,” He growled.

“Why does it matter?” She stared at him for a long moment, for a second there, sure he was going to look away, “Do you care if I get hurt, Barnes?”

A sigh escaped his lips and she could practically see him deflate as he sat back down in his stool and signalled for another drink, “How can you be so sure I’m not the one who will be the reason you get hurt.”

His brows furrowed and she watched the way his hand tightened around the glass.

“A gut feeling,” She said softly, her words barely heard over the crowd.

“How reassuring,” He answered dryly.

She shrugged, and took a sip of her bourbon, “Reassures me.”

“Why’s that?” He asked, head tilted in interest.

“Because,” She dipped her glass toward him, “It’s led me to you every time.”

[fancycakedragon]

I’m not sure if this is the correct way to send in requests or not but if it is, can you do headcanons of married life with Tommy Kinkle (possibly with kids)? Still bitter about my baby. #TommyKinkleDeservedBetter2019

Married Life With Tommy Kinkle (Featuring Kids)

Tommy Kinkle x Reader

Warning(s): none

A/N: here it is! I hope you like it and let me know if you want me to add on anything. Also this photo got me so soft!

Masterlist

You have a backyard wedding with close friends and family.

The Kinkle men build an actual gazebo just for the ceremony.

Flowers were in perfect bloom, lace & ribbons accented the seats, and at night the fairy lights put up create an ethereal ambience.

You describe the day as magical.  *Side glance at the Spellmans*

Domestic life is something to get used to for the both of you.

Tommy has a habit of waking up five minutes before the alarm.

Which is a plus because he’ll turn it off and wake you himself.

Usually he starts of with gentle kisses and whispers in your ear. If you don’t wake up he’ll shake you a bit to get you up.

If neither of those work he’ll pull all of the blankets away so you’re hit with the room’s cold air.

Tommy is usually gone most of the day at the mines.

Sometimes you surprise him with a picnic for lunch.

Other times he’ll wake up early and pack you a lunch for work. Those always come with little notes.

“In case I haven’t told you yet, you’re beautiful.” “I hope you think of me today, cause I’ll think about you all day.” “Don’t forget to come home with milk.”

Weekends are the best because you both sleep in.

Even after waking up at whatever hour you choose to, the two of you stay tangled up in the sheets and enjoying eachother’s company.

Speaking of sleeping Tommy is a major cuddler.

You scoot away from him he keeps scooting closer until you’re on the edge of the bed, but he always has his arms around you so you’d never fall.

You go to the opposite side of the bed and he seeks you out until he’s practically on top of you.

You’ve accepted it and even enjoy it.

On weekends the two of you are busy with cleaning and tending to the vegetable garden.

Tommy started it out of nowhere and now there’s all sorts of simple veggies in the back yard.

Summer meals will always be accompanied with a salad.

Despite living a large part of his life off of T.V. dinners Tommy’s a good cook.

The two of you even figured out a system. Who ever doesn’t make dinner washes the dishes.

Even then Tommy always helps you with dishes when it’s your turn. The faster they’re done, the more time you spend together.

The holidays become more enjoyable with you around. The house is decorated head to toe and Harvey comes over to help with the tree. That year the rest of the Kinkle men come to your and Tommy's house for Christmas.

They still go hunting and when you see the dread in Harvey's face you ask to go too.

"Shouldn't you be baking a pie or something?" Grandpa Kinkle asks.

You ignore the irritation building up inside you and smile sweetly, "I'm just about done with everything. I'll have time when we get back. Plus I've been dying to practice archery on moving targets." 

The Kinkles know well enough to have manners during the holidays so they let you tag along. 

When it's Harvey's turn to take a shot at a deer you hear Mr. Kinkle mutter, "Don't dissapoint me again boy."

You busy yourself with your bow and arrow as Harvey tries to build up enough courage.

Mr. Kinkle gets frustrated, "Dammit is this gonna happen every year?!" he moves Harvey out of the way to take a shot and thats when your arrow releases.

And it hits Mr. Kinkle right in the calf causing him to howl in pain. 

You apologize repeatedly before he's taken to the hospital. 

Later on after quiet dinner with a very bitter Mr. Kinkle you find Harvey sitting on your porch outside. 

"You didn't have to do that for me. I have enough people that try to protect me."

You chuckle, "Sweetie, that was for both of us. I wasn't letting that deer get murdered" you look over and see the conflict in Harvey's eyes. "Harvey it's ok for people to want you happy and safe. Even if it means we make sacrifices." 

"That's the problem though! I'm tired of being chicken shit and letting you guys take the heat for me!" He buries his hands in his hair, "And the worst part is I don't know how to start being better."

Without missing a beat you answer, "Go to college."

"What?"

"Go to college, get out of this town and grow as a person. That's how to start."

Little do you know Tommy heard the whole thing and it's in that moment that he know he wants to have kids with you.

Tommy is the one that begins hinting towards having kids. He isn’t very subtle about though and one night you bring up the conversation.

His entire face lights up when you agree to start trying to have kids.

When you succesfully concieve Tommy is already talking to your belly before it’s even showing.

Your first child is a boy named Andrew Christopher Kinkle, he holds a resemblence to Tommy and when you point it out he tisks saying, "I'm sorry buddy." 

You lightly hit his chest, "He's a very handsome boy!"

Andy changes practically everything. Now there was a small human that needs 24/7 attention and care. 

You get a sixth sense when it comes to your son. 

"Tommy, get Andy," you say half asleep and two in the morning.

Tommy sighs, "Baby he's not even-" your point is made when Andy suddenly begins crying.

A couple months after his second birthday the three of you take your first family vacation to the lake house. 

Andy wants to go everywhere. He also loves being outside so you do almost everything there. 

Meals are eaten outside and almost every outdoor activity is done. 

One morning you wake up after your boys and you find Tommy drinking coffee while Andy is busy playing with his toys on the back deck.

"You gotta finish your breakfast before mommy wakes up, bud. Then we can go to the market." Tommy says trying to convince your son to focus on eating.

You watch with adoration as you lean against the door frame. 

Tommy notices your presence and beckons you over. With a tired smile you move towards him and snuggle into his side. Maybe it was the way the morning sun shone on Andy when he smiled up at you, or maybe you were still too drowsy to remember the tantrums he's had but in that moment you just blurt it out.

"We should have another one," you say taking Tommy's coffee (or tea) from his hand and taking a sip. 

Tommy wraps both his hands around your waist and pulls you closer burying his face into your neck. "No need to convince me," he says before placing soft kisses on your neck and collar.

Two years later you give birth to your daughter, Mavis Janine Kinkle.

Little Andy is all over baby Jane from the moment he sees her. 

"Mommy, she looks so angry!" Andy says as he stares at his sister. Her brows are furrowed with her eyes trying to adjust to the flouresent lighting.

"The lights are just really bright to her. It's gonna be some time before she gets used to it." 

Jane does get used to the lighting but she can't help her expressive brows so most of the time she just looks angry. Especially to new people.

But when with family and friends she's a ray for sunshine. 

Jane loves doing what her big brother's doing. Which can be fun for Andy sometimes but other times very frustrating. 

The two love seeing Uncle Harvey. With him being off in college whenever he visits, the kids won't leave his side.

Which gives you and Tommy a chance spend more time together.

And maybe start on that third kid am I right?

------

Requests are open.

[tokusashi]

For real

invincibleHello guys, please her me out.

(My english is kinda bad but I’m trying my best. Also I DON’T WANT TO OFFEND ANYONE, if some words were poorly used then I’m sorry. But please, let me know)

Lately, reading posts about bnha spoilers, I’ve noticed that people are making a little mistake. I’m talking about blaming OP as the main source of the anime/manga falldown. At least- shounen m/a.

Well, let me say this- not really.

As examples, I’ll use three titles, “Fairy Tail”, “Bleach” and “Naruto”.

So, let’s start with the first one, shall we?

(about the Boku no hero Academia I’ll write at the end)

1. FAIRY TAIL - Hiro Mashima, creator of the FT had once said, that he’s not good with creating a big plots. And we could see that. When stories were short, it was funny, clever even and nice to read and watch. But when the whole Zeref problem was on the picture and whole DRAMA? Wellll... 

Biggest problems of FT were:

a) many, many characters that meant nothing

- Fairy Tail is an title with so many characters, that people can’t remember half of their names, but not only because of their number, but because of their lack of existence. Yeah, sure, they are there, but they don’t do ANYTHING important, mainly just waiting for the main hero (or his crew) to rescue them.

They’re just there for to be there and this is really not good. You know that Lisanna won’t do a thing, she’s just there for being pretty. You know that Evergreen won’t be a hero of the day, because there will be bigger shark, like Laxus or Natsu, to bite the enemy.

Even Levy was supposed to be the intelligent one, but in the end she was just a plot device as a damsel in distress and Gajeel’s lover.

b) main character without character development

- Natsu. Just... Natsu. He haven’t changed ALMOST at all. (I’m not saying completly).  Through the whole series, he always was just a loud idiot who liked to fight with strong oponnents and with those who have hurted his friends. I mean, it had it’s charm, but it was leading to nowhere. A breakthrough moment for him was the one, when Gildarts taught him, that he won’t always win. But we never ever see it again. Yeah, was this one time when he decided to leave Sebertooth members alone to be sure that Happy’s ok, but it wasn’t situation about win or lose. Natsu, all alone, was interesting with his problem about dragon and demon seed in him buuut... It get only worse.

c) almost lack of any training of the characters, they were always stronger because plot demanded it

- Like when they were with Spirits in Spirit world, and then learned that “Oh sh*t, we lost our all time for training”, and there was DEUS EX MACHINA, Ultear with “Sure, I can make it up guys”. And BAM! Done! Now we have super powered fairy tail members!

And it was just ugh. Like, no training arc or anything. Yeah, sure, when they were fightiung they were learning and “gaining lvl”, but not drastically.

And then we had power up “because”.

And then time-skip to explain why everyone are super powerfull right now.

And that’s kinda meh.

d) every villain who had tits was on list “to forgive everything what she had done” 

- Do I have to even explain it? Like Minerva. the biggest sadistic jerk of the females in Fairy Tail, who tortured Lucy, had FUN with it and so on. Buuuut why won’t we turn her into and lovely sheep and adopt her, because of her bewbs.

And sad story written on an knee.

e) lack of consequences around choices that main heores have made

- Again, Natsu. People were kinda worried, what’s gonna happen to him! Will he turn into a dragon?! Or a demon?! Or a mix of both?! And what have killed it all?

Igneel: Are you dragon or demon

Natsu: I’m human

WELL DONE, END OF THE PLOT.

Also Zeref had literally fu*ked a kid. Like, the body of Mavis was the one of a little girl. BUT WHO CARES.

Also, many many times characters did something, but it had no meaning whatsoever. Even the big plots, and that’s really nono.

d) Erza as a very bad written OP character

- Erza is an perfect exaple of op character, that is terribly bad written. Like, she’ll always win. She’ll be always the strongest, she’ll have armor for EVERYTHING, she’ll do the thing. I’m surprised that she had no fight with zeref 1v1, she could end the whole series a lot sooner.

Like, seriously, there’s no other character like Erza. She’s just there to win, that her whole plot. And it wasn’t suddenly. She was OP since the beginning till the last fight, and it wasn’t interesting at all. Hiro Mashima had no knowledge about “how to handle an op character”.

SUMMARY:

It wasn’t OP that destroyed Fairy Tail. Those were character, that Mashima-sensei didn’t know how to use, plot devices he had used poorly and lack of consequences and feeling of the real danger. Sure, Erza as OP was also a problem, but not the main source.

SO, NEXT’S BLEACH:

a)  Tite Kubo had continued the series after Karakura Arc.

- It was really good! The end with Ichigo who had lost his powers? Great!  Final Getsuga Tenshou! Zangetsu and Hollow Ichigo merged! Very nice!

And then... yeah. Continuation. We’ve seen that Kubo-sensei had no heart to this anymore. Next Arc after another was worse and worse. 

b) potential of whole Gotei destroyed

- To be honest, whole Gotei was not even as half interesting as Hollows.

Even worse, we had seen whole Gotei from the very bad view for more than a half of the series. Also captains (after KArakura arc) had almost no real meaning. They were just meh.

c) getting tangled up in his[Kubo-sensei] own mistakes

- Like making a hybrid of shinigami-hollow-quincy-human main character, just because shinigami with hollow powers was not enough for the audience.

Or creating a third crowd with bows in white out of nowhere, just for the plot.

Or making Ishida the Sasuke of this series with even more drama than before.

Or creating fullbring just to throw the arc away.

Or just Yhwach. Kubo made him so powerfull, that he had the same problem as Masashi Kishimoto. Had no idea how to kill it. Also, the whole Zangetsu-Yhwach thing was kinda out of... yeah. Just, there were a lot of things that had no sense or were just simply stupid, and that hurts. 

d) problems of Tite Kubo

- As I’ve said before. Tite Kubo had his own problems with Shounen Jump. It became the source of the flaws that Kubo-sensei had made, and we all know it.

SUMMARY:

Actually all of the main flaws are coming from continuation, because really- If Tite Kubo could end the series after Ichigo had lost his powers, then it would be a really great shounen! Buuuut we can see how it went. The biggest problem here was not an OP, the biggest problem was the fact, that Kubo-sensei had the toys, but had no fun with plaing with them, and it’s clearly visible. He drew because he drew, because people had pulled him by the ears

AND THE THIRD ONE, NARUTO:

a) no meaning of side characters

- DON’T BITE ME, I’m not sayin “completly”! there are those like Might Guy, but when we’ll look at Kiba, Temari, Kankuro, Ino and many, many others. They were not as bad written as the ones from Fairy Tail, but also not perfect. They had almost no effect on the “final bosses”, and were out of league, when we look at the golden trio- Sakura, Sasuke and Naruto, who were almost like a gods at the end in comparison to the others.

b) ninjutsu was forgotten

- At first it was amazing. Techniques! Elements! Limited chakra! Kunais were deadly, and bombs and everything that ninja used.

And then they just forgot about all of it, and Made Dragon Naruto Ball Z. There were big effective blasts, and power flowing out of characters, giant beasts who made every shinobi not important [at all] and so on. I’m really glad that Naruto had won with the final boss because of the sexy no jutsu, becase, AT LEAST, it was a jutsu.

c) Madara Uchiha and what to do with it

- As I’ve had written above abour Bleach, I have to repeat myself. Uchiha Madara was the problem, that Kishimoto-sensei had no idea how to solve.

When he was stronger, Naruto had been stronger, and Sasuke to, but there he was even mooooore powerfull, so they also had to and, yeah.

He was just a poorly used plot device.

d) Love out of nowhere

- Let’s talk about Sakura. she did loved Sasuke only because he was cool, and then he tried to kill her, he betrayed the whole village, her and naruto over and over, had treated her as she was a nuisance etc. so what she did at the end? She walked after him so long till he made her pregnant and they’ve got married. Best romance ever. Except it’s not.

Also, Naruto and Hinata. Hinata is a great character, don’t get me wrong, but while she ALWAYS loved Naruto, Naruto never really payed attention to her, and it all was created very rougly and quickly at the end. He was always more focused on Sasuke, and there was also problem with that, because Kishimoto-sensei didn’t knoiw how to show devotion to someone, that’s not as romantic as Naruto’s toward Sasuke. And it’s obvious that it WASN’T INTENTIONALL, it just looks like it looks.

Also, the only one relationship that was builded was the one between Temari and Shikamaru (we can also say about Asuma and Kurenai but it was a really short one). 

And then the final chapter, everyone are married and with kids out of nowhere. Good for them, just, it was really weird.

f) who needs Akatsuki

- Akatsuki was an organization that was purely great as long as it was in the shadow. People were scared of it. It was a really BIG DEAL, and members of it were dangerous. And then in manga, and in shippuuden anime, when they started to show themselves, they... well, died pretty quickly. Also the whole thing about the chief of Acatsuki, Pain, who was in fact only a puppet of Madara... I mean, suddenly Akatsuki became nothing, and it was kinda unnerving.

g) Friendly Tailed Beasts

- Demons. Pet demons. Plushies who need to be understood.

Like, Tailed Beasts were a really interesting creatures, but obiously Friendship no Jutsu of Naruto worked also on them so here it is. Naruto’s Zoo.

Killed potential. There was a chance to show something with power and brutality, but nah, why we should have that? Demons can’t be evil obviously.

SUMMARY:

- “Naruto” is not a bad series. Just have it bigs flaws. But also here, like in Bleach or Fairy Tail, the OP’ness wasn’t the main source of the failure. It was lack of the proportion between main characters and side characters, and Kishimoto-sensei clearly had no idea what to do with his own villains and had really strong problems with creating a relationships. But in the end it wan’t about ninjas anymore, it was Dragon Ball with guy in a tracksuit, and that was the worst one.

SO, DID THE OP-THING DESTROYED THOSE THREE TITLES?

My answer is: nope.

OP characters are totally ok, as long as creator KNOW HOW TO HANDLE THEM. Kuchiki Byakuya from Bleach was an OP character, but still great, Hatake Kakashi from Naruto was an OP character, but also- still great.

Also I want to say, that I don’t hate Fairy Tail, Naruto or Bleach.

I don’t like FT, but with Naruto and Bleach I’m pretty ok. I’m just a person who understand flaws of the title she reads.

SO, ABOUT IZUKU MIDORIYA’S “OP’ness”:

Many have doubts how it’ll turn out, but what I want to say is that Izuku is supposed to defeat All for One, and to become the greatest hero. He have to become powerfull and have more than one trick, so for me 6-7 quirks works.

Also just look at chapter 215. Everyone cried that he can use “black whip” so suddenly, but the price for using it is STRONG PAIN and reduction of One For All limit, that is possible to use (20%). So now, add 5 more an every each with it’s own restriction. Yeah.

Izuku have a lot of strenght, but Todoroki or Bakugou are controlling their powers FAR BETTER than him. Tokoyami too! He still have to catch up, ant to learn a lot of things.

Also, how many quirks does All for One have? Is he invincible? Ofc not.

Also summing my babling:

Izuku’s “op’ness” won’t destroy a thing. Horikoshi-sensei (for now) know how to handle and OP characters.

If there will be a downfall of the series, then there will be a lot of another flaws, not just one to kill it all, so don’t be afraid. Have a faith.

[izzy-b-hands]

A Secret

A sequel to the vampire fic from last night, which can be found here: https://aboutthatmelancholystorm.tumblr.com/post/187390692861/the-taste-of-blood

TW for things like blood, death, violence, a brief mention of sexual assault-it doesn’t happen, just an asshole OC who briefly talks abt it but don’t worry I take care of him :)

Might be another one of these asap, might not. The writing brain is kind of wandering through various ideas, so idk where it’s gonna end up. Definitely having fun with this AU though, so more than likely at some point I’ll get another one out lol. Especially since I intro a OFC in this who I love. I want to have her spend more time with the boys, so I think I’ll have to get to another one of these at some point soon! 

Fic title is also the title of a King Diamond song, who has joined the go to writing playlist for this AU!

My love to all who read/like/reblog!

It wasn’t so strange, some of it. It still took getting used to, but he was coming around to working only night shifts at one of the bars with Snafu. He felt it was only desperation and pity that had led to them getting hired as security; soldiers and vampires they were but he was well aware they didn’t necessarily look much intimidating. 

The bar itself was run by a vampire named Theodore, a man who looked about thirty, but had been that age since he’d finished his own military service in the Great War in 1918 and had been bitten by what he said was a Nazi vampire. By his own admission he wasn’t in love with having a bar, but it was one of the easiest ways to make money in the city while also ensuring one would never have to go in the daytime. He knew Hugo, but had his own set of bad experiences with him, so Hugo was indefinitely banned from the bar. 

If Eugene had to sum it all up, it couldn’t get much better considering the circumstances. But he couldn’t get used to-

“What about him?” Snafu asked, interrupting his thoughts. “Looks healthy enough.” 

The man in question was chatting loudly to a woman who looked bored out of her mind, staring at her drink with a thousand yard stare. He had been talking without pause for nearly a half hour, and they’d already gotten complaints from a few of the couples sitting at the small tables near them. 

“Maybe. Let me talk to her first. She looks like she might need some rescuing,” Eugene replied, and started over towards the tiny circular metal table. 

Before he could even say a word, her eyes brightened at the sight of him. “Oh my word, Roscoe! How are you darling? I have missed you so much; when did you move back here?” 

“...uh, last month,” Eugene stumbled, trying to quickly think up a history for the character she’d assigned him. 

“And I don’t see you till now? That just isn’t right! You work here now, huh? How neat, to know that you’ll be here all night and-” 

“I’m sorry, is this a date or a reunion?” her date interrupted, glaring at Eugene as if he hoped to set him on fire with his eyes. “Mavis-” 

“Is one of my oldest friends, and I would love to catch up with her. Surely, you can understand that. I won’t interrupt you for long, but we just need a moment,” Eugene interrupted right back, narrowing his eyes at the man until he could see the man shrivel back in his seat. 

Mavis held onto his arm, giggling, as they made it away from the table and back over to Snafu. As soon as they were far enough away, her act dropped. 

“Thank you so much,” she sighed. “My friend, or should I say ex-friend, set me up with him tonight and he’s just....eugh.” 

“That’s the impression we were getting as well. Figured it wasn’t right to leave you stuck with him. Plus, he’s been loud enough that other people have complained,” Eugene said. 

She sighed and shook her head. “I gotta make up somethin’ so I can go home. I can’t deal with him anymore, if I hear one more story about how he knows more than me about nursing...I am a nurse! I served patching up soldiers in Europe, I know my job! He works as a clerk at a grocery store, didn’t even get drafted...” 

“We can help with that,” Snafu said. “But, what if we could just get rid of him, and you could enjoy the rest of your night here, with us keepin’ an eye out for any other Romeos like him?” 

She smiled. “I suppose I wouldn’t be opposed to that. You gonna throw him out?” 

“Somethin’ like that,” Snafu replied. 

“You stay put right here, George behind the counter’ll take care of ya,” Eugene told her as he watched Snafu walk over to the man, lean down and whisper something that he was sure was at least mildly terrifying. 

He followed, and found the man in a state of anger and fear. 

“You can’t talk to me like that. You can’t say shit like that.” 

“Oh no? Cause way I see it is I just said it. And I meant it. Time for you to go for the night,” Snafu said, and grabbed one of the man’s arms, pulling him from his seat. 

Eugene took the other, and yanked him outside. The plan, as it usually was, was to drain him just enough to leave him feeling hungover the next day. It wouldn’t turn him, wouldn’t kill him, and he’d have no memory of what they did, but he’d definitely remember feeling so shitty. 

“This is bullshit,” the man spat as they dragged him to the empty and dark alley behind the bar. “But y’know what? Fine. I’ll go. She wasn’t gonna put out anyway, I’d have had to make her and a bitch like that would fight and-” 

Snafu’s fist to the man’s face interrupted him, and Eugene didn’t even have to glance at Snafu to know that the plan had changed. There were plenty of places to hide a body, or so he’d begun to learn thanks to the few times they fed to kill. 

In the shadows, he figured it looked like they were leaned over to pickpocket the man, rather than ripping his throat to shreds as they fed, one on each side of the man’s neck. He didn’t like killing, unless it was absolutely necessary. Mavis would never know that they’d done this in her name, but it was probably better that way. While he was sure she could have handled herself just fine, he also liked that she would now be able to enjoy her night, safe from the asshole gurgling between them, his blood on their fangs and lips. 

To anyone on the street, in the dim light of the street, it looked like they were hauling a drunk and passed out man home. Instead, they tossed him in the river, that the bar wasn’t too far from it was a boon to them. 

Mavis was grinning, talking with George when they walked back in, their mouths cleaned from their meal. 

“There you are! Thank you...” 

“Eugene. This is Merriell-” 

“Just call me Snafu,” Snafu interrupted. “He’s the only one that gets away with usin’ my real name.” 

Mavis nodded. “In any case, thank you. Did he take being thrown out well? I hope he wasn’t too much trouble.” 

They shared a look, and Eugene had to bite back a bit of a giggle. It wasn’t really funny, gallows humor if anything, but he couldn’t help it, somehow. 

“Nah. He left without another word,” Snafu replied. “We gotta get back to work, but anyone bothers you, you come find us if we aren’t already on the way over. We’ll keep an eye out for ya tonight.” 

Mavis thanked them, and for the rest of the night they watched her have her fun. It was such a simple thing, but it made him so happy. Something good out of the violence of their feeding. 

It made such a difference, a good meal. They were home before the sun was even beginning to come up, and he was grateful for it. He wasn’t tired, not by a long shot. 

“You gonna be able to calm down enough to sleep?” Snafu smirked from where he’d flopped onto the couch, and Eugene could feel his eyes on him as he paced about the living room. 

“Probably not. I’ve got energy now, I wanna go do somethin’, anythin’, and I fuckin’ can’t,” he hissed, motioning to the covered windows. They’d doubled the newspaper taped over the few windows they had, and had added two more layers to the curtains over each window. But he could still remember what it had looked like, to let natural light stream in and warm the house. He missed it, almost as much as he missed going out during the day. 

“Pent up,” Snafu sighed. “That’s what we are. Got a night off comin’ up, maybe we can-” 

“I can’t wait for a night off,” Eugene interrupted. “I wanna do somethin’ right now.” 

“Well, the sun’s comin’ up, so you don’t have a lot of options,” Snafu sighed. “Could read. Write. Uh...take up scrap-booking?” 

Eugene smiled. “That really what you wanna suggest?” 

“There is one other option,” Snafu replied with a bright grin. “Could come over here and do me.” 

“You look like a hell of a lot more fun than scrap-booking,” Eugene laughed as he joined him on the couch. 

“Lucky I already love you,” Snafu snorted. “Hell of a pick-up line, that.” 

He interrupted Snafu with a kiss to his neck, that turned into just the hint of a fang slipping into the skin. They’d discovered very quickly that while actually feeding off of each other was something to be reserved for an emergency, just a small bite here and there during...certain moments...produced an electric feeling. 

Snafu was putty under his hands, and he couldn’t wait to make him melt even more. 

A scream echoed down the street, and they paused. 

“That sounds an awful lot like...” Snafu frowned. “Nah.” 

A run to the front door, carefully opened since the sun would be coming up sooner rather than later, revealed it to be true. Mavis, running down the street, a man chasing her. 

Before they could step out, she pulled a gun from her handbag. 

“You won’t,” her pursuer, featureless in the dark, scoffed. 

The shot rang out, and as it faded left only the sound of Mavis’ heavy breathing and the gurgling of the wounded pursuer. 

“Shit, shit, shit,” she huffed, and shoved the gun in her bag. “Okay, I just have to...” 

“Can we be of service?” Snafu shouted from the door. “Hi!” 

Mavis turned to them, shocked. “Hi. He-” 

“Got what was coming to him, from the looks of it. You okay?” Eugene asked as they crept back outside. 

“Yeah. Jerk seemed sweet, offered to walk me home. He lives a few doors down from me, so I figured...well. I shouldn’t have figured, I guess,” she replied. 

“You shouldn’t have to worry about every single man being a threat,” Snafu said. “You didn’t figure nothin’ wrong. He should have been a gentleman, and just walked you home. He didn’t...” 

“I’m fine, truly. He didn’t get a chance to touch me, but he was trying to,” she said. “Jesus, what the hell do I do now?” 

“If you can keep a secret, we can help,” Snafu said, and Eugene turned sharply to face him. 

“Snaf-” 

“Eugene. She needs help, and we can. Who else is gonna? And while I’m sure she could take care of this on her own-” Snafu started. 

“Actually,” Mavis interrupted. “I do want your help. I can’t carry him on my own, and he needs a hospital. I gotta go turn myself in.” 

“What? No,” Snafu scoffed. “Look, I got an idea to help, but you gotta keep it quiet, and uh...look, you’ll understand.” 

“Merriell,” Eugene scolded. “We’ve already eaten.” 

“Yeah, but I know you could go for a nightcap,” Snafu grinned, his fangs slipping out over his lip, shining in the glow from the street lamps, the old ones still lit by hand by those who owned the buildings they were attached to.

 The flames flickered, and if it still beat, Eugene knew his heart would be beating out of time with them. But Snafu was right. He had wanted something to do, and this was certainly that. 

They picked the man up and pulled him into the house, Mavis following, locking the door behind them as she peered to see if anyone was watching them. 

He appreciated her care, but their street was almost always perfectly quiet. How and why, he didn’t know and he didn’t ask. It worked well for them, no sense in potentially ruining a good thing by questioning it. 

Snafu took a wrist, and Eugene the other. It was a slower feed, but it seemed to horrify Mavis less, who watched with a glint of terror and curiosity in her eyes. 

“Y’all didn’t throw out my date, did you?” she asked quietly when her neighbor was silent and pale on the floor, and they were finished wiping the flecks of dried blood from their lips. 

“Well. He was thrown,” Snafu replied. “Just into the river, after we uh...” 

Mavis nodded. “Okay. Okay. I-” 

She took a deep breath, and stared at the corpse on their floor. 

“There’s no coming back from this, is there?” 

Eugene shook his head. “No. But we don’t normally, do this, I mean...eat to kill. Usually just take enough to make ‘em feel some sort of hung over the next day.” 

She nodded. “This is a hell of a secret to keep.” 

They exchanged nervous glances as she sighed. In theory, maybe nothing would come of her running amok telling people that vampires roamed the streets. But if something did...they couldn’t risk that. 

“But I think I can manage. After all, the city is strange already, this doesn’t make it that much stranger. Least I know I can feed you my dates if they keep turning out to be sour apples,” she smiled. “Is that bad? I should probably feel bad for saying that.”

Snafu grinned. “Give us a minute to uh...dispose of the trash. The maybe we can talk some more about that.” 

“I’d like that,” she replied as she sat delicately on their couch. 

Snafu started to drag the neighbor towards the front door, and Eugene turned to her. It seemed too easy. 

“You really aren’t gonna say a word, to anyone, about us?” 

“Why would I?” she asked. “Who would believe me, if I did? And in any case, you helped me twice with your uh...manner of being. Think I owe you both for that.” 

He sighed. It still left him unsettled, nice and sweet as Mavis seemed. 

“Look, honestly...I saw some shit during the war. I’ve seen some shit here. This? A little weird at first, but interesting all the same. I mean...I’d kill for a chance to examine you both. No beating heart, but a living body...” her eyes trailed up and down him, and he blushed. 

“That, and you both seem to need more than you’re eating now. I think I can help with that, too. My girlfriends tend to have bad taste in men, and if it can make the city safer...well, I refuse to feel bad about finding a way to bring them to your table,” she continued. “If you’d be amenable to that.” 

It was tempting. An easy and probably somewhat reliable food source...

“Maybe. I’m still...I mean...this is a recent change, for us. I’m still coming to terms with a lot of this,” he said.

“Eugene! I can’t carry this fat ass alone, and the sun’s gonna be up very soon! You wanna get over here and help before people start waking up for the morning?” Snafu had the body halfway out the front door, but was visibly straining to hold the door open while pulling the corpse out at the same time. 

“Go on,” Mavis nodded, and he dashed over to Snafu. 

The run to the nearest bank of the river would have made him sweat, if he had still been able to. They made it back to the house just as the first rays of the sun started to peek out. 

Mavis relayed her plan to Snafu then, all of them sat on the couch together. 

“I mean...we kill when we have to. When it seems necessary. Your date, and your neighbor we knew were going to hurt someone, you, in this case. Can you promise me that’s what we’re dealing with if you start bringing others to us?” Snafu asked. “I know I don’t always act like I got a moral code, but...” 

“I can promise you that,” Mavis replied. “Consider it our code of honor in this little agreement.” 

She jotted her phone number down on the pad of paper on their coffee table, and held out a new page torn from it for Snafu to write out their number. “I’ll call when I have someone ready. If you’ve already eaten enough for a bit, then you call me and let me know, alright?” 

They both nodded. 

“And...maybe I can get one medical exam in of one of you? Just once!” she laughed. “Just to sate my curiosity.” 

“I think we can do that,” Eugene replied. “Not a bad exchange, for what’s essentially free food.” 

“You two be safe in the meantime. Might see you sooner rather than later; I like having a bar I can go to and know I’ve got some guardian angels watching over me,” she smiled as she left, sneaking out of the door, opening it as little as possible while they huddled away from the door in the kitchen. 

“Angels,” Eugene muttered as the door shut. “I don’t know about that.” 

“Sure you do. Just a bunch of angels that aren’t afraid to get their hands dirty,” Snafu said. pulling him towards the couch and down onto it, so he was nearly on Snafu’s lap. 

Snafu fell asleep against him in a few moments as they sat, but he couldn’t. He kept staring at Mavis’ number on the paper, half-excited, half-nervous for her first call to ring. Some twisted sort of angels they might be, but what sort of angels bore blood they could never wash off on their hands? 

He supposed they would find out. 

[ship-ambrosia]

A Fool Like Him

My good friend @sweetmemories2606 told me that yesterday was an unofficial Stingyu Day, so naturally as Stingyu is one of my favorite ships behind only Nalu and Gruvia, I had to jump on that train! Sting x Yukino needs more fanworks, so I am here to deliver!!

I promise Heavens Bringer will be updating soon! I just keep getting distracted (by things like this lol)

~~~

Sabertooth, one week after the Grand Magic Games

Word had spread quickly after the final day of the games, after the dragon invasion had been stopped, of the changes that came to the former Number 1 magic guild in Fiore. The original master, Jiemma, and his daughter Minerva had disappeared in the chaos brewing just before the fight broke out. Even before that, Jiemma had been removed from his position as master. But with his removal, the members of Sabertooth collectively realized that the guild they were fighting for and the guild that they were a part of were two different guilds entirely. And they had to choose which one they really wanted to take back home with them.

Sting Eucliffe, out of necessity, had to be the first one to make such a decision. Surely, that was why Minerva had elected to make him the new Sabertooth guild master rather than herself; so that she could slip away from their guild just as easily if it all came crashing down. In that moment at the end of the games, as he stared down the five members of Fairy Tail across the courtyard that he was to face - he remembered being so pissed that Natsu wasn't there, that he nearly hadn't listened to a word they said - Sting made that decision. They wouldn't give up, even though he had the clear advantage. They were all exhausted. Beaten up. He'd only shown his face once during the entire match, to knock Quatro Cerberus's ace out of the competition. Fairy Tail believed in the strength of the bonds between their members. Natsu had told him earlier in the games that such bonds were the source of his power, the fuel for the Fire Dragon Slayer's flames. His love for Lector, for Rogue and Frosch, reminded him of just how much he loved Sabertooth, and that he needed to fight for a Sabertooth that loved it's members. That was why he surrendered to Fairy Tail that day. That was why the Sabertooth he brought home with him became more relaxed, breathed more life. That was why, he told himself, he was so obsessed with Yukino's return.

Sting let out a sigh as he sat at his desk, filing out more paperwork. He allowed himself to lay his chin in his hands, his eyelids drooping as he allowed himself a moment to rest. Maybe Rogue was right, maybe he had been overworking himself... but it was all to show the other guilds and the Magic Council that even if he was the youngest master of a magic guild since Fairy Tail's founder, Mavis Vermillion, he took his job seriously. He also was definitely trying to avoid thinking about someone.

He doubted he could ever get through a day successfully completing that goal though, as the image of Yukino standing before the entire guild, exposed in just her tank top and skirt as Jiemma excommunicated her and forced her to remove her own guild mark, was burned into the back of his eyelids. He had been so furious with her for losing that he couldn't even stand to look at her. Sabertooth mages didn't lose. That just wasn't possible. But as the week of the games wore on, Sting's anger directed more toward himself. He hadn't know Yukino well - no one in the guild was particularly close, save for him and Rogue - but she had been a calm presence, a friendly face in an otherwise chilly crowd. He hated that he had missed her, that he disagreed with Jiemma's decision. He hated how cruel he felt in the way she had been forced out of Sabertooth. He hated how Natsu broke into Sabertooth and nearly defeated their guild master over a girl he had known for two days, while Sting had known her for a year and still couldn't bring himself to stand up for her.

And when he saw her for the first time again standing in front of the Eclipse Gate with Lucy as seven dragons stepped out of it, Sting knew he couldn't ever let Yukino leave. He couldn't ever bring the original Sabertooth back, because he cared too much. He wanted to grab Yukino, Rogue, Lector, and Frosch and hold them close and protect them from the hell descending upon Crocus. He wanted to know his friends were safe.

A knock on his door shook Sting out of his thoughts, and he quickly sat up in his chair. "Come in," he called to them, and then sucked in a breath when an angel glided across the floor toward him.

He'd had a similar reaction back at the Grand Ball. After the dragons had been "defeated" - technically all the credit goes to Natsu for that, since he destroyed the Eclipse Gate - the king of Fiore invited them all to a party. He'd dressed up, and made everyone who was choosing to stay in his new Sabertooth come as a means of announcing his formal takeover as guild master. Initially, he'd seen Lisanna Strauss walking by him while he spoke to Gajeel and done a double-take, but his heart sunk. Until he noticed her walking toward Lucy and two more girls with white hair. Lisanna had an elder sister, but only one. When the girl with the white hair in a ponytail turned, he saw that it was her, Mirajane. The other girl had white hair, only a few inches longer than Lisanna's. The rose decoration in her hair gave her away, and his heart started to pound wildly. As the group walked toward where the boys stood, Yukino saw him. The look on her face was horror and guilt. She muttered out an apology and turned around.

Sting was star struck. He knew Yukino was pretty, but he'd be lying if he said she wasn't the most beautiful girl in the room now. Seeing her all dressed up forced him to face the facts. It was like an arrow straight through his heart. His own idiocy almost let her slip away from him.

Did she hate him? Probably yes. Still, he gathered himself enough to quickly excuse himself from Gajeel and Rogue and walk forward after her. Lucy and Mirajane noticed him immediately, and he couldn't blame them for the way their expressions grew concerned.

"Yukino, wait!" Her entire body stiffened when he spoke her name.

"I didn't actually think you would be here," he explained quickly. Sting felt like his voice quivered quite obviously. He took another deep breath.

"Master and Minerva have disappeared," he began. "So we all want to start over. We're going to remake a new Sabertooth, rebuild it from the ground up."

He saw her turn around and face him. It gave him the confidence he needed to keep talking.

"We um... we were unbelievably cruel to you," he looked up, meeting her eyes for the first time in what felt like forever. She shrunk back against his blazing gaze. "But it's my goal to lead a guild that treasures its members."

"Why are you telling me this?"

"Because I want you to come back to us."

The words echoed in his ears as he felt a very similar sensation to the moment she turned around at the ball pulse through his veins. Yukino wore her normal attire, a short strapless dress covered in an ornate cape, but it wasn't the clothes that made him focus in on her beauty this time. It was the realization he'd had, the reason he tried to keep her off his mind as much as he could. Sting clenched his fists a bit to force himself back to reality.

"Good morning Yukino," he said finally.

"Master Sting, I-" she immediately grew quiet as his expression darkened and he held up a hand.

"Just Sting," he insisted for the hundredth time since they'd gotten back from the games. Yukino's habit of adding "Master" to his name now had a way of reminding him of Jiemma - something that left a bad taste in his mouth as it also made Yukino feel more distant from him than ever before. "What can I do for you?"

"I'm truly grateful to be back in Sabertooth, I love this guild so much," she immediately began tearing up. "But I still... I don't think I belong... I shouldn't have come back-"

Sting got to his feet immediately as the walls crumbled around him. "Who's made you feel that way? Yukino?!" He exclaimed when she didn't answer his first question. "Yukino, I'm serious who is it that makes you think you don't belong, because I-"

He had made his way around his desk and toward her, and was suddenly cut off by the weight that pushed against him, bumping him back against the desk. Yukino wrapped her arms around his torso and pressed her face against his chest.

"No one," she spoke finally. "No one has made me feel that way. Everyone is trying to finally get to know each other and it's wonderful it's just I... I keep going back to that night. When no one did anything. When i couldn't have even been given the decency of having my guild mark removed in an official way. When Master Jiemma made me remove it myself. I was all alone. I don't want to be alone again."

His tongue had gone numb, Sting moving his jaw a moment but no sound came out. He had to say something. He was extremely afraid of the possibility that Yukino Aguria could walk away from Sabertooth right now if he didn't consider the right things to say. Rogue had told him he needed to be comforting. He needed to have confidence that he could put any of his members' fears to rest. On the inside, he trembled just as much as Yukino was in his arms.

"You won't be," he replied finally, and she looked up to face him. Damn him if the sight of her in tears didn't make him want to move heaven and hell just to see her smile. "Nothing like that will ever happen again because this is my Sabertooth, not Jiemma's. I won't lie. It's going to be a difficult transition, Yukino. It's going to be painful and it's going to be long. But I've changed. I was just like the wizards Jiemma wanted; cold, arrogant, pure power. I want to be warm. I want to be friends with my guildmates, and I want friendship to mean more to me than raw strength. So I need to make Sabertooth be a guild filled with all those things."

They stood there in silence for a long time, the only sound Sting could hear was the pounding of the blood in his ears.

It felt like an eternity before Yukino finally replied. A simple "Thank you, Sting." But it was more than enough for him. She paused before speaking again.

"I promise I'll help you make Sabertooth just as you envision it," she breathed out, as though she were thinking over every word. "Even if we're the last members left here, i will help you and Rogue complete your new Sabertooth."

His cheeks felt warm, and Sting couldn't believe he was blushing. He was blushing, damn it. What kind of control did this girl have over him? And more importantly, why had it taken him so long to realize just what she meant to him?

"Although... we still haven't placed your guild mark back on, have we?" Sting asked her. "I'll... I'll do it, if it's okay? Reverse the treatment that Jiemma gave you, and have the guild master place it back on."

He watched as Yukino's face turned the same shade of red as Titania Erza's hair. Sting mulled over his words in a panic, trying to discover what mistake he had clearly made.

"Th-that's very kind of you, Sting..." she stuttered. "But I... I'm wearing a dress. Perhaps I could go home and change? And come back? And then you could place my guild mark?" Her voice got higher and high in pitch with every question.

As her words revealed what he had implied, Sting blushed a brighter shade of red too. "Of course! Of course you can go home and change! I wasn't... I mean it wasn't my intention, I-"

As he tripped over his words, she smiled. And he watched, as if in slow motion, her face relaxed. Yukino leaned forward. Something pressed to his cheek, and then she stepped back into his line of vision, a softer pink on her face now. Sting's insides turned to goo.

"Thank you," her eyes were finally glittering with joy again, the way they used to when she would speak to him. "Thank you so much, Sting."

As she left his office, he couldn't help but think back to his standoff with Kagura just moments after he'd asked Yukino to come back to Sabertooth. Even though Kagura was drunk, she had incited very real fear in him. Lucy and Erza, too, when they insisted it was only natural for Yukino to join Fairy Tail. The other guilds wanted to fight for her, but Sting had sensed real competition with Fairy Tail and Mermaid Heel. He was so afraid of losing Yukino in that moment. For losing any chance he could have had to act on the feelings he had only recently discovered in himself.

It had taken him too long, the naive fool that he was. Only now he realized he was selfish in his hope of having a chance with Yukino. How could she ever feel the same after everything he had let happen to her?

The last thing she needed was a fool like him to love her.

[dustedmagazine]

Dust Vol. 4, Number 11

Blink and 2018 is just about over, at least in terms of music releases, at least if you don’t follow best ofs, mainstream hip hop or holiday music. As we close in on another year of amazing music—but what year isn’t, really?— Dusted takes a moment to dig through the piles and write some short, mostly positive reviews of albums that might have gotten slept on. As usual, writers follow their interests through expansive drone, transcendental folk, incendiary free-jazz, metal, punk and gospel-tinged Americana. Contributors this time included Ethan Covey, Justin Cober-Lake, Jennifer Kelly, Bill Meyer and Jonathan Shaw.

Bitchin Bajas — Rebajas (Drag City)

Bitchin Bajas are a band made for deep exploration. Their hallucinatory, drone-based excursions are like an old couch — sink in, stretch out and stay a while. Rebajas, released this fall by Drag City, makes that task simple. The seven CD set features most everything the band has released since their debut in 2010: eight full albums and their contribution to various split albums. If you’re dipped into Bitchin Bajas previously, you’ll know what you’re getting. (And if you haven’t there’s little chance this package, or this review of it, is where you’d start.) That said, for those with a long drive, or a monk-like attention span, settling in and tracking the territory of the band’s evolution is rewarding. While the themes — of drone, calm, repeating bass and synth figures — remain constant, the band isn’t a one trick (or one note?) pony. Deep listening uncovers the variety between shorter, bloop-and-hum pieces from Tones/Zones (Disc 1) and the meditative, cycling layers of “2303” from last year’s Bajas Fresh (Disc 7). And there are moments that peek up from the soup: “Bajas Ragas” adds hand percussion and a loping bass line for one of their most engaging concoctions—fit for a slow-motion dance floor in a submerged city of the future. Missing, unfortunately, is their 2016 collaborative album with Bonnie “Prince” Billy, the excellently-titled Epic Jammers And Fortunate Little Ditties. As is this intriguing gem of Rolling Stones covers. Yet, with just shy of seven hours of music, I doubt many will sweat their absence. There’s more than enough to disappear into. And, if this review hasn’t spelled it simply enough, this is quite possibly the trippiest music out there. So, set your intentions and bon voyage.  

Ethan Covey

 Nathan Bowles—Plainly Mistaken (Paradise of Bachelors)

Plainly Mistaken by Nathan Bowles

Nathan Bowles, banjoist, percussionist and citizen of New Weird America, departs from his plain-spoken directness in this fourth album and makes a welcome detour into open-ended psychedelia. Right from the dreamy, drifty “Now If You Remember,” you sense a soft-focus open-ness to otherworldly experience. The cut, written by the seven-year-old Jessica Constable and included on Julie Tippett’s 1976 Sunset Glow, shifts and shimmers in ways that Bowles percussive banjo ditties have rarely done. Yet the album’s transcendental heart comes in “The Road Reversed,” where a pounding, dancing rhythm kicks among long, velvety bowed tones, and banjo notes bend into raga-like half-tones. Folk Americana frolics amid deep-toned Eastern meditation, and where one begins and the other ends is hard to say and, also, beside the point. There are, for sure, some traditional touchpoints—“Elk River Blues” (a tune by Ernie Carpenter that Bowles revisits here), “Fresh and Fairly So” and “Stump Sprout” will all satisfy fans of the twang and the twitch. Yet what lingers, for me, are the ones that stray from past experience, the slow, solo ambiguities of “Umbra,” the shadowy flurries and shifting dissonances of “Girih Tiles.” What Bowles’ well-turned work has lacked till now is mystery, and here it is at last.

Jennifer Kelly

 Mike Farris — Silver & Stone (Compass)

Mike Farris's long, strange career flamed briefly with the alt-rockers Screamin' Cheetah Wheelies in the 1990s. After that, Farris rejected his rock 'n' roll lifestyle and grungy sound in a move toward gospel and soul. The surprise of the transition wasn't the partier-to-Christian story but the discovery of how strong Farris's vocals are. On Silver & Stone, he has less of a gospel focus, but down in some swampy soul music (with bits of brighter pop), he shows off that voice. He's willing to take on Bill Withers (“Hope She'll Be Happier”) and Sam Cooke (“I'll Coming Running Back to You”) — not tasks usually recommended — and he comes out of it just fine.

The album fits a sort of arc for his solo career. It lacks the new-convert punch and joy of Salvation in Lights, but it shifts into more thoughtful reflection. Where he had been celebrating, now he's considering how to live. The explicit religion has mostly disappeared, but Farris's songs still run on hope and a big heart. The sorts of ideas at work on Silver & Stone synthesize on “When Mavis Sings,” a tribute to Mavis Staples and serves as a sort of musical and personal model. Farris, whether in rock or soul, the church or the club, presents a focused vision with enough groove to carry it through.

Justin Cober-Lake

 Tim Feeney — Burrow (Marginal Frequency)

MFCS K | Tim Feeney - Burrow by Marginal Frequency

Burrow can be read as both an explanation and an instruction. Percussionist Tim Feeney begins each of this tape’s four pieces (two per side, and if you purchase a download you’ll get a file of each side, not each piece) in similar fashion, beating out a pattern with minimal variation. As the performance progresses monotony gives way to fascination as Feeney slowly reveals a beat’s potential variations. At a certain point things change. Are you hearing more because he threw something on the drum skin, or because your concentration is unlocking that drum-strike’s secrets, or maybe both? Treat this tape like a meditation guide, one that helps you to dig into the sound and see what treasures you find.

Bill Meyer 

 Forever House — Eaves (Infrequent Seams)

Eaves by Forever House

Forever House makes wildly complicated songs whose improvisatory flights and furies are held together, barely, by Meaghan Burke’s keening, swooping melodies. A lurid aura hangs over these difficult, jarring compositions, witchy incantations invoking freaks, body doubles and spiders. Burke’s voice is velvety dark, draping over odd-shaped rhythms, jutting stabs of violent sound. The drumming is particularly good in an off-putting, against-expectations manner; along with throbs of cello and throes of feedbacked dissonance, it constructs a weird fun house architecture where everything tips and distorts and unsettles.

Forever House’s oddities work because they’re powered by formidable skills – this is a band with a serious NY downtown pedigree. Burke, a cellist and composer, commutes between classical orchestra work and solo material that skitters along the boundary between archaic pop and free-wheeling art song. Both guitarist James Moore and bassist James Illgenfritz have played with John Zorn, as well as other downtown luminaries (in Illgenfritz’s case Anthony Braxton, John Zorn, Elliott Sharp and Pauline Oliveros and others, in Moore’s with the electric guitar quartet Dither). Drummer Pete Wise has left less of an internet trail but seems to have Bang on a Can connections. You get the sense that Forever House is their spooky busman’s holiday, a chance to play against type and raise some unruly ghosts. Boo!

Jennifer Kelly  

 German Army — Kowloon Walled City = (Null Zone)

Kowloon Walled City by German Army

German Army is neither an established military entity nor some reenactment clique, but a low-flying, California-based combo that (according to their Facebook page) “uses art to document disappearing cultures and wildlife while critiquing imperialism in all forms.” Kowloon Walled City certainly qualifies as a disappearing culture, since most of the semi-autonomous, mob-run neighborhood that sat at the edge of Hong Kong’s airport has been cleaned up or knocked down. Since there’s nothing particularly Chinese-sounding about this tape’s perky synth/drum jams and the rare spoken vocals are in distinctly American-accented English, the proclaimed mission may be a failure or just a red herring. But if you need some catchy tunes limned with coded mystery to jam in your old jalopy (if you have tried to get a car stereo with a tape deck in the last ten years, you know what I’m talking about), German Army is at your service.

Bill Meyer

  Gong Gong Gong—Siren (Wharf Cat)

Siren 追逐劇 by Gong Gong Gong 工工工

Two songs from the duo of Joshua Frank and Tom Ng make a case for an intriguing Beijing punk-noise underground. The a-side, “Siren” abstracts the electric blues into a single clattering guitar riff, a zooming, looming roar of bass and a searing call (no response) vocal from Ng, in sing-song-y Chinese. “Something’s Happening” is meatier and more conventionally rock, still built on sharp, stinging guitar clamor, but buzzing with Hendrix-y solo-ry (if Hendrix played the bass). Both tracks employ the minimum number of parts to maximal impact, the construction loose enough for friction, sparks and gnashing aggression.

Jennifer Kelly

 Gerrit Hatcher / Peter Maunu / Julian Kirschner — The Raven and the Dove (JAKI)

The Raven and the Dove by Hatcher/Maunu/Kirshner

Chicago’s built on drained swampland, so when the next wave of free jazz rolls up, it can travel. Certainly this trio, which comprises two younger musicians and one more who seems to be doing exactly what he wants with his retirement, covers a lot of ground. Gerrit Hatcher is an extroverted tenor saxophonist with a raw tone and a willingness to depart from his default setting of muscular tune-grinding into passages of tentative flutter and delicate counterpoint. Good drummers never lack for work, so it’s saying something that you can find Julian Kirschner on a Chicago stage pretty much every week of the year. He comes from a post-free jazz conception of his instrument that favors color, space and movement over pulse or swing. Joining these youngsters is Peter Maunu, whose past life playing fusion and new age music seems quite irrelevant to the unpredictable stream of savage scraping, subliminal humming, and acidic rocking that issues from his guitar, violin and mandolin. This group is brand new, but it won’t be for long; they’ve been touring around the Midwest this fall, so you can expect them to add seasoned rapport to band new promises before long. Catch them if you can, and catch this promising debut if you can’t.

Bill Meyer

 Kidd Jordan / Alvin Fielder / Joel Futterman / Steve Swell — Masters of Improvisation (Valid Records)

Masters of Improvisation by Kidd Jordan, Alvin Fielder, Joel Futterman & Steve Swell

It takes a particular orneriness to be a musician in a musical city and stake your claim to a style that the city has never embraced. You can say a lot of things about New Orleans, but it’s never really been a free jazz town. But that hasn’t stopped tenor saxophonist Kidd Jordan, who has made his crust playing and teaching every style that a jobbing musician must play, from playing a particularly uncompromising variety of free jazz. Two of his accompanists here are long-time partners. Drummer Alvin Fielder, who like Jordan is in his 80s, has likewise carried the free jazz torch in southern environs where the muggy air of indifference would douse a fainter spirit. Pianist Joel Futterman is a decade younger and his darting technique and forays inside the piano imply that his roots are sunk in different turf than his mates, but he’s been playing with them long enough to be able to bring empathy as well as energy to the table. New York-based trombonist Steve Swell is the newcomer, and his ability to shift effortlessly between sere exhalations and brash attacks allows him to complicate the combo’s late-Coltrane vibe without betraying it, and then be equally persuasive when they turn around and wring the last blue drops out of Doc Pomus’ “Lonely Avenue.” This concert recording lingers long on the stormy side; go on, stick your face into the wind, you won’t be sorry.

Bill Meyer

 No Love — Choke on It (Sorry State)

Choke On It by No Love

No Love, from Raleigh, NC, play punk rock that conjures the ragged toughness of the mid-1970s NYC downtown scene and the pace of early-1980s Southern Cali hardcore. It’s a potent mix, and when guitarists Seth Beard and Daniel Lupton make a bit of space for vocalist Elizabeth Lynch, the record really kills it. The record’s title track and “Dogs//Wolves” — released back in 2015 as the A-side of a terrific single — are frantic punk burners that scrap and sizzle, teetering on the brink of perilous chaos. The band manages to channel the energy without disciplining it, like the Heartbreakers in those magical months in 1975. “Back Taxes & Anaphylaxis” is even better, mostly because Lynch takes an aggressive lead on the song, showing what she can do. On “Drama Fever,” she manages to keep pace with the guitars’ slashing intensity, but on some of the other tracks, she’s drowned out by all the frenzied riffage. The raw sound of the record gives it a low-grade charm, but the noise sometimes obscures the tunes, which are pretty great. Still, the band’s vigor and verve are undeniable. More, please.  

Jonathan Shaw

 One Tail, One Head — Worlds Open, Worlds Collide (Terratur Possessions) 

Worlds Open, Worlds Collide by One Tail, One Head

Norway’s One Tail, One Head have been playing black metal since 2006, but this year’s Worlds Open, Worlds Collide is the first full-length record the band has ever released. They’ve made a career on their reputation as a live act, pairing their orthodox blackened sound and songs with a stage show only slightly less theatrical than Watain’s (that’s all stage blood, right guys?). It seems that this first LP will be their last, as One Tail, One Head have announced their intent to call it quits after a tour supporting the record. That sense of finality may have prompted the band to round the stylistic bases, pairing truculent, muscular songs reminiscent of the early demos (“Firebirds” is a good example) with more chaotic, swirling work typical of the recent EPs. Songs in the former mode are more successful here, especially the record’s title track, which thunders and crackles with convincing menace. But One Tail, One Head could have given themselves a better sendoff. Few of these tunes feel fully realized, and none is near the equal of the band’s intense performing presence. It’s too bad — but a wise (or wise-ass) kid from Chicago once observed that “breaking up is an idea that has occurred to far too few groups, sometimes the wrong ones.” Via con Satàn, fellas.  

Jonathan Shaw

 Vanessa Peters — Foxhole Prayers (Idol)

Foxhole Prayers by Vanessa Peters

Singer-songwriter Vanessa Peters could have settled for the smart folk-rock she’s been doing for almost two decades, but on Foxhole Prayers she stretches herself, looking at the cultural landscape without relinquishing her personal lyrics. “Carnival Barker” offers her most direct political track, but “Trolls” is more effective, capturing the patience and perseverance needed to defeat the title characters. The song has personal and political resonances, and it's that dual thinking that drives much of the album. “Fight” takes on extra meaning in the context of the album. Peters unveils her own fears and her own need to press on, but with enough space in the lyrics that she could be speaking to herself, a young artist, or someone afraid of venturing into the public eye in any sense; calls to bravery aren't limited to those on stage and Peters situates her song as someone who knows that.  

As her view expands, so does her music, particularly as she incorporates electronic elements into her sound. The dance-pop influences of “Before it Falls Apart” surprise, but Peters' tasteful use of the new sounds allows everything to fit in naturally with what she does. The album, inspired in part by comparing the world of The Greaty Gatsby with today's political climate, has its roots in crisis, hence the title track, and Peters uses her art to search for something better. 

Justin Cober-Lake

 Shells—Shells 2 (Gingko)

Shells 2 by Shells

The evidence suggests that Shelley Salant is not a loner. She’s been booking shows in Southeast Michigan for a decade. She’s the sort of record store clerk who greets you with a recommendation that you’d best consider. She’s played guitar in Tyvek and Swimsuit. She’s the sort of person who makes communities happen by doing what she does.

But she also has pretty strong instincts about what makes a guitar worth hearing — liquid tone, phrases that are concise unless they need to wander, pithy hooks, gritty noise and reverb for days. She’s got some things to say on her own, and that’s where Shells comes in. Shells 2 contains 14 tracks, each a brief and lucid lesson about one or more of the aforementioned virtues. Some of them comprise layers of loops, some follow a single snaking line, and a couple have been overdubbed into an approximation of a band. Similarity spotters may point out the bits that sound like Link Wray or Roy Montgomery or the Feelies, but that would require looking past all the bits that sound like Shelley Salant rocking essentially.

Bill Meyer

 Various Artists — Chebran Volume 2: French Boogie 1979-1982 (Born Bad)

This superlative collection of funk, disco and proto-rap documents the cross-hybridization of bootleg tapes of Grandmaster Flash, Eurovision-style dance music and sounds from the African and Arabic colonies that bubbled up in working class neighborhoods at the dawn of the 1980s all over France. Here on cuts like Ethnie’s “De Chagrin En Chagrin” synths take up the serpentine non-western melodies, while Bootsy-style funksters slap and pop out the boogie. Likewise, the ponderous stomp of bass and percussion anchors Ganawa’s “Yamna” in present day disco, but its wheeling woodwinds and haunting call and response transport you to sand swept deserts in North Africa. Ettika, both the track name and the artist name for a one-hitter from the early 1980s, nudges a disco synth into twisty arabesques and flits from French to Arabic in its emphatic, female-powered raps. Forget the melting pot, these cuts bubble like sour dough starter, when errant spores of yeast find a home in a dull white flour soup and create something marvelous.

Jennifer Kelly

 Otomo Yoshihide / Paal Nilssen-Love — 19th of May 2016 (PNL)

19th of May 2016 by Otomo Yoshihide & Paal Nilssen-Love

Conventional wisdom holds that when Paal Nilssen-Love gets on stage with an electric guitarist, fillings will loosen. That certainly holds true when he pairs up with Terrie Ex, his preferred six-string slinger of recent years, and there are parts of this encounter with Japanese guitarist Otomo Yoshihide that could be cited as supporting evidence. Otomo brings plenty of volume, distortion and ferocity; there are passages where it sounds like he’s demolishing some metallic structure while Nilssen-Love erects an impregnable surrounding whirlwind. But neither man stays in one gear, and some of the most involving moments come when they drop to a scrape and a shimmer.

Bill Meyer