#Bet you weren’t expecting THAT were you Susan

[gilliansanderson]

If Ever There Is Tomorrow

previously: [1] [2] [AO3]

3. A Sailor Went To Sea

Summer 1960

Mulligan’s Pub is as greasy and Irish as it’s regulars. It happens to be the only bar open at 10 am on a Sunday and with his sailor’s uniform and bright orange hair, Bill Scully did not look out of place as he drops a quarter into the coin slot and flicks through the jukebox. Margret waits for him dutifully, sipping ginger ale and fanning away the heat with a coaster. Maggie doesn’t dance, she wouldn’t take his hand unless the song is perfect. The grin he shoots over his shoulder is smug, she arches her brow and tilts her head expectantly. A challenge, a dare, a show me what you’ve got. He shows her, and presses play.

Somewhere beyond the sea Somewhere waiting’ for me My lover stands on golden sands  And watches the ships that go sailing…

Something old, his grandmother’s ring. He’d kept it in his pocket for six months while he’d been out at sea. Katherine Scully had died at 83, a few days before he was to leave. She’d always liked that Margret, she had told him the last time they spoke as she pressed the warm golden band into his palm. The diamond was made of glass, but it gleamed like the beacon of a lighthouse on her finger, calling him back to their sticky table in the seedy, smoke-filled pub, calling him home. He crosses the room in far too many steps, tugs her gently out of her chair and into his arms, she tosses her head back as she laughs and he falls in love all over again.

…Somewhere beyond the sea She’s there watchin’ for me If I could fly like birds on high Then straight to her arms, I’d go sailing…

Something blue, her sapphire eyes. He’d fallen in love with them first, when he’d caught them as she sang in the church choir, she couldn’t carry a tune but sang the loudest all the same, she’d winked at him and he was done for. Every time he looked out on the ship’s deck, he was reminded of her. They had been wet and blue as the ocean as she stood waiting on the docks, searching the chaos of loved ones finding loved ones that misty morning. The first thing he did after setting foot on dry land was kiss her, the second was go down on one knee, the third was laugh through his tears as she’d tugged him up by the collar and told him “I’m not waiting a single second longer, sailor,”

“They had our song!” she beams; he pulls her ever closer, singing along softly in her ear, smirking as he feels the shiver run down her spine like a trickle of water.

…It’s far beyond a star It’s near beyond the moon I know beyond a doubt My heart will lead me there soon…

Something borrowed, her mother’s wedding dress, ivory lace. They’d practically ran to the courthouse, stopping only at her insistence, that at least something be done traditionally. They stole some roses from the garden and struggled to squeeze her into the dress, as modest and billowy as it was, it was still a tight fit. “Maggie, are you sure…?” he started to ask for the hundredth time, but she cut him off with a kiss.

“My parents were so incredibly angry; you have no idea.” She told him between painting her lips a heart-breaking shade of red and pinning a single white flower in her dark ebony curls. “I’m doing you a favour, buddy,”

Her parents were at mass, no doubt wondering where in hell their sinful young family shame could be. His arms had circled her waist, his fingers interlaced with hers and settle on her stomach.

Something new, so new it was still in the works. Six months, yet she was barely showing. Pressed against him as they dance; he feels his son kick. Bill, just once, wishes time could stand still, that he could live in this little vignette forever, but he knows that someday soon he’ll have to go back out to sea, and the song is quickly coming to an end.

“So what now?” his wife sighs against his neck,

“What now?” He echoes, brushing an errant curl behind her ear. He lets his fingers trail lazily along her jaw and tilts her chin to meet his gaze. She hasn’t stopped blushing since she’d said I do.

“How about the rest of our lives?” he grins and spins her one more time.

…We’ll meet beyond the shore We’ll kiss just like before Happy we’ll be beyond the sea And never again I’ll go sailing…

Spring 1980

Bill Scully Sr. could mark the day he’d started going grey, it was around the same time his youngest daughter had dyed the ends of her hair pink and gotten taken in for trespassing on prom night.

He rubbed the fatigue from his eyes as he pulled up at the Sherriff station at an ungodly hour. Dana was a smart teenager, smart enough to not run away but teenager enough to sneak into an abandoned property to go ghost hunting in the first place. She was with the Mulder kid. Of course she was.

It turns out the kids didn’t have to look that far, as in the darkened parking lot he finds a relentless spirit had come back to haunt him. Teena Mulder had not aged well, but he could hardly blame her. Her hair was more white than brown, the lines under her eyes were far too defined for someone her age. The woman he once knew had once been plucky and hopeful, but her expression now lacks any softness, he feels the swing coming and braces himself for the blow.

“They got themselves arrested,” she says in a tone as cool and cutting as a shard of ice.

“Oh, really?” he replies wearily, “Shit, it’s a good thing I always happen stop by the police station at four in the morning,”

“This is serious, Bill,” she frowns, and takes him back to 1973.

“They’re getting let off with a warning, Teena. They were stupid, but don’t make this into a bigger deal than it already is,”

“This is dicey and you know it,” she tears into a packet of cigarettes with her teeth, “I’m scared for them. I’m scared they’ll get each other hurt,”

He sighs and rubs a hand over his forehead as if to soothe the pain that was ever growing in his temporal lobe, the putrid smell of smoke reminds him too much of days filled with shadowy parties and shady military men; in that moment he misses the salty sea air so much he feels sick.

“You want what’s best for them Teena? How about letting them be happy,” he says, because dammit they were happy. He’s never seen her daughter happier than after the boy came back into her life, he wasn’t strong enough to deal with the kind of heartbreak splitting them up would cause, the kind even a father’s love couldn’t soothe. “I won’t hurt her like that again,”

“It’s all fun and games now, but Fox is starting to get ideas about his sister, sooner or later Dana will get them too, you really want to take that risk?” Bill’s life was already full to the brim with small, forceful women, but none of them had ever quite infuriated him like this one. “Sometimes hurting someone is the best way to save them,”

“Is that how you justify what happened to Samantha?” The darkness had stained her green eyes black, they glimmer with unshed tears and he curses his big mouth. “No, I’m sorry… Look, I’m truly sorry about what your family went through Teena, but I’m never going to let it happen to mine.”

“This is bigger than you or I, Bill, it won’t end with us,” She shakes her head, her smile is bitter, mournful, grave, “Nobody lives forever, if you’re lucky you’ll die before your children, but after the fact, you can’t protect them,”

“Well then maybe you should quit smoking,” he replies and says a quick prayer for the boy as he storms into the building.

Her simple velvet gown is rumpled and bunched up to her knees as she rests her ratty white sneakers on her best friend’s lap, as what lingered of her inner tomboy had refused to wear heels. Their heads conspiringly close like they were the only two in the room. Mulder must have said something funny, as her laugh rings out like a bell throughout the bullpen. Bill’s anger gives way to pure adoration, and it pains him even more.

“A séance, Dana?” he says gruffly, alerting them to his presence, “I thought you didn’t believe in ghosts,”

The teenagers quickly spring apart and have the good sense to look embarrassed.

“Sir, I’m so sorry this was all my fault, honest…” Mulder starts.

“Shut up Mulder, you didn’t twist my arm,” Dana cuts him off.

He shoots the boy a look so stern it would have had his quivering in their lifejackets, and he wisely shut his mouth. His well-trained daughter marches up to him, front and centre with her head held high, “I’m sorry, Captain,” she says, the apology is guarded, but she clearly means it.

Bill surprises them all by pulling her into a tight embrace.

“Daddy?” her voice small and muffled against his chest, “You’re not mad?”

“I’m furious, Starbuck,” he pulls away, keeping his hands firmly on her little shoulders, God she was still so little, her look so tender. She’d always known exactly how to wind him around her finger. “You are in a world of trouble. But right now all I just want is to get you home,”

Dana falls asleep against the passenger window on the ride home, and he tries not to look at her and think about his old friend’s warning. She was his daughter; she was his miracle. But sooner or later, the God’s he had prayed to would come collect their debts.

Winter 1994

Children rebel, they disappoint. They keep secrets and talk back. They run away from home and never call except for birthdays. Ahab had been like any other parent; always wanting what was best for his kids, but his kids had other plans. Dana had raged against the machine the hardest, and did the most damage to his bank account, throwing away her medical degree to cut up corpses for the FBI. They’d each ranted and bickered and slammed doors until Scully had paid for the training herself and had lived off toast and canned soup for a year, until Maggie had reached the end of her rope, pouring water over the coals and talking the heated redheads to just agree to disagree.

Her work was put permanently on the backburner, the two of them avoided touching the subject like a tender wound. He awkwardly brings it up after the last at the last dinner they would ever share, and she should have taken that opportunity to tell him about Mulder, but the gesture feels hollow. If telling him about the bureau had been hard, telling about Mulder would have near impossible, so she just… never did.

It was just a passing moment, but the lost opportunity was gnawing at her. It was far too late, the black and white images on the TV blurring into grey. She decides she’ll call and tell him first thing in the morning, as she gives into her exhaustion and falls headfirst into a dream.

It’s so familiar it feels almost like a memory. She wanders down the endless white hall, tiled floor cold against her tiny bare feet. She hears someone shout behind her, booming footfalls gaining speed. They never catch her; she always wakes before they do. She tries to run all the same, but her legs are made of lead, this time she makes it to the corner and runs into a girl. A girl with long brown hair and terror in her bright green eyes, Hands grab her from all sides, and she wills her eyes to open.

Without warning, the walls start to twist and convulse before disappearing entirely. Suddenly she’s thirteen and her Sunday school teacher is dead in her yard. She’ kneeling beside him covered head to toe in sticky black blood, screaming.

Scout says the corpse, his blue lips part and flies swarm out, He’s going to be ok

His lifeless eyes bearing into her soul, but she can’t look away as the dead man begins to sing.

…Happy we’ll be beyond the sea

And never again I’ll go sailing…

The scene changes once more in a lightning flash, the earth is covered in white. Her teacher is gone, and Ahab is there instead, standing at the end of the garden, staring at the butter-yellow flowers pushing through the snow. She approaches carefully, but he doesn’t look up. Daffodil’s don’t grow in winter He mutters to the ground, They’re going to die

“Dad?” He turns like a broken animatronic, his eyes empty and glazed, but somewhere deep inside flickered a spark of recognition, and his face crumples.

I’m sorry, Starbuck, he rasps, like the words physically pain him, I’m sorry…  

“Daddy, you’re scaring me…” she places a hand on his arm, but pulls it away quickly with a gasp; he was as cold as ice, tears turning to frost on his cheeks. The sight is so profoundly wrong that it stops her in her tracks. In all her life, she’d never seen her daddy cry. Before she can reach out again the wind begins to swirl as harshly as a hurricane, turning him to snowflakes and blowing him away.

Scully never knew when she was having a nightmare until she was awake. Until it was too late. Until it wasn’t a dream anymore.

She wakes with a song in her head, opens her eyes and sees her father.

She sees him for the last time.

…No more, no more, No more sailing…

[undercoveravenger]

A King’s Crown

Pairing: Peter Pevensie x Male!Reader

Requested: Yes

Original Request: “Hi Could I request a Peter (chronicle of narnia) where the reader doesn’t believe Peter was a king until they both pop up in narnia and he’s like I can’t believe this.”

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Your best friend Peter’s family hadn’t always been strange. Before the war, they’d been just the same as any other family, but for months after they’d returned from being boarded at some old professor’s country home they’d been… off. They would absentmindedly mention some place they called Narnia or reference someone from the huge cast of characters that they had invented.

You’d noticed the forlorn look in Susan’s eyes when she had to go shopping for a new dress, like nothing she found in shops could compare to what she wanted. You had seen the sour look on Edmond’s face whenever someone told him that he’d never make it in the army, like he wanted to snap back at them but knew it would only cause more trouble. You’d witnessed the way Lucy would occasionally whirl around with an excited cry of ‘Aslan!’ only to visibly deflate when she realized that there was no one there.

And Peter? Peter was the worst of them all. While he didn’t seem to see or hear things that weren’t there the way that his youngest sister did, it was clear that there was something different about the responsible young man you’d known before he was sent away. He was jumpier, flinching when a dog barked nearby suddenly and watching with wary eyes when people moved faster than he expected, as though he was expecting to be attacked.

You had caught him changing once- had seen the white scars criss-crossing over his torso in thin lines, like he’d been cut with a blade. A few days later you had sat him down to make sure that nothing had happened at that old manor in the country to change him so drastically.

He’d just laughed at you, lovely azure eyes twinkling in amusement as he reassured you that his scars had come from his time as a King, not a crazy old inventor. Peter had been smiling widely as he recounted the story of how he and his siblings had liberated the land of Narnia from an evil witch, ending with how they’d been crowned royalty.

His joyful expression had faded when you burst into laughter. He’d tried to convince you that he was telling the truth a number of times since then, but you’d always just waved him off with a ‘whatever you say, Your Highness,’ certain that your best friend and his siblings were just trying to pull some convoluted prank on you.

Well, you had been certain, until the five of you were caught in a train station together. You and Edmond had had to drag Peter out of another fight before the security officer arrived, and now you were sitting on a bench watching the trains pass as your best friend tiraded about how he ‘should be treated with more respect, he was a king, after all.’

Then Lucy had jumped to her feet, declaring that something had pinched her. Her siblings quickly followed suit, smiles quickly forming as the youngest declared that the odd feeling felt like magic. The four quickly took hold of each others’ hands, Peter quickly turning to latch onto one of yours and dragging you up to your feet.

You opened your mouth to ask what the hell they were on about before your eyes caught onto what the girls had been looking at.

The train station seemed to be coming apart around you, bricks peeling away from the walls and powerful gusts of wind swaying the signs hanging from the ceiling. As a train tore past you, the station faded away, replaced by the rough stone walls of a cave overlooking a vast beach.

“What the hell?” you breathed, slowly trailing after the suddenly ecstatic siblings as they raced to kick off their shoes and go play in the rushing waves. Your brows furrowed as your feet sunk slightly into the soft sand, “Where the hell did the station go?”

Peter turned back to face you at the sound of your voice, stunning smile growing impossibly wider, “(M/N), welcome to Narnia!”

You raised an eyebrow incredulously as you took in your surroundings, “No fucking way-”

Just then, Lucy came tearing up the beach toward the two of you. “Peter, the castle-” she gasped out, pointing back the way she’d come where you could just make out the sight of some ruins emerging from the jungle.

The blond glanced over at you for a second before nodding at Lucy to lead the way.

---------

The ruins were even larger than they had looked from the beach, sprawling over the land in a way that made you certain that Lucy had been correct in calling this place a castle, for that was what it certainly must have been.

You’d followed the Pevensies into a chamber they’d unearthed by shoving a large stone slab to the side, eyes wide as you entered what must have been a treasury of some sort. There were four statues with ornate chests placed at their feet, each statue bearing a startling resemblance to your best friend and his siblings.

“I wonder who lived here,” you mused, turning in a circle as you tried to imagine what the massive room must have looked like before it crumbled into disrepair.

Peter looked up at you from his place kneeling before the chest he’d pried open, “I-” He hesitated, withdrawing a sword in its scabbard from the chest and running the pad of his finger gingerly over the design carved into its hilt, “I think we did.”

You turned to look at him, eyeing the gleaming blade in his hands. After a long moment, you sighed, “You weren’t lying about this place, were you?” 

Peter smiled at you, slowly rising to his feet and moving to stand beside you, “No, I’m afraid not.”

Edmond bit out a quiet chuckle, dark eyes darting between you and Peter. His lips quirked upward at the adoring look on his brother’s face, and he moved to speak to his sisters before the three of them slipped quietly from the room.

“So you really are a King then?” you asked, unable to stop yourself from smiling at the thought of what this place, what the boy you loved, must have looked like in the times that Peter had told you about.

“High King Peter, actually,” the blond murmured, grinning softly at you. “The Magnificent.”

You snorted, raising an eyebrow as you looked over at him, “Really?”

He shrugged, an embarrassed flush darkening his cheeks, “I didn’t pick the title.”

“It suits you,” you said after a moment, your attention drifting back toward the statue of Peter. “Bet you looked great in that crown.”

Peter snickered, nudging your shoulder with his own, “Depends on who you ask. Most people tend to think I looked the best in armor.”

You turned an appraising eye to him, “I’ll have to be the judge of that one of these days.”

The blond bit his lip to keep himself from smiling, “Sure.”

“Hey, Pete?” you asked after a moment, “If you’re a King, what does that make me?”

He turned to look at you, hesitating for a moment. “My knight in shining armor? And maybe the King’s consort someday? Only if you wanted to, of course but-”

You rolled your eyes, slipping one hand around the back of Peter’s neck to drag him in so you could kiss him. He smiled against your lips and his eyes were a little dazed when you finally pulled away, “C’mon, Your Highness,” you teased playfully, linking your fingers with his, “Let’s go find out what happened to your kingdom.”

And with that, you and your new boyfriend made your way from the ancient chamber after his siblings, ready to go save the land that he loved.

[cafeacademia]

Guardian | Chapter One

Draco Malfoy x Muggleborn!Reader Soulmate AU

Chapter Summary: As you navigate your fifth year at Hogwarts, you reflect on the things that have led you this far and you begin to wonder if your complicated friendship with Draco holds more meaning than you originally anticipated.

Warnings: A little bit of angst, some friendly teasing, mentions of Umbridge’s punishments, description of harm to a student, comfort, fluff.

Word count: Approx 4000 (oopsies)

Masterlist

A/N: Hi loves, here’s the first full part of the series! Please check out the Prologue if you’re new to the series, it gives some general setting up for the story and explains how this soulmate AU works. Enjoy! 💖

Flashbacks are separated using *** and use of the soulmate book is highlighted in italics

Previous Part | Next part

(Gif is my own)

Sitting in the library, Neville was not far from the desk you were sat at as he scoured the shelves for a copy of a book about rare magical properties in plants while you were trying to work on your final Potions essay for the term. “This feels impossible.” You yawned, slouching over your four parchment rolls of completed essay. All you really had to do now was make a conclusion, but your brain was wandering after a few hours of working on your homework and it just wasn’t happening. “That’s incredible.” Neville whispered to himself and you couldn’t help but breathe out a short laugh, looking over your shoulder to see that he was fully engrossed in the book he had pulled off the shelf.

Putting your quill down, you looked down at your hand, eyes trailing over the little bandage wrap you wore over the mark left from the detention you had served the previous evening with Umbridge. It was still sore and it felt very tender, but you tried your best to keep it hidden under the bandage and the sleeve of your school jumper. Slowly, your mind wandered towards what Draco might be up to. You hadn’t spoken to him in months since you had started in your fifth year and you’d had less of desire to do so now that he was in the Inquisitorial Squad. And your thoughts paced back to your fourth year when you had started to share a bit of a friendship with him.

***

“You’re fraternizing with the enemy, you are.” Ron scoffed. “I am not.” You frowned at him. “Oi, shove off would you? I know you don’t like the little git, but he seems to like our girl, isn’t that right George?” Fred asked, looking over your head to his twin who was standing on the other side of you. “That’s right Fred, maybe he’s got a crush on you.” He chuckled, nudging you in the side. “Ah, young love.” Fred sighed, garnering a multitude of reactions between Ron sounding utterly disgusted to Ginny’s amused laughter. “Draco is just being friendly.” You rolled your eyes. “Oh Draco is it now? Not Malfoy anymore eh?” Fred teased.

“He’s such a git, Malfoy’s not worth your time anyway, he’s probably just using you or something.” Ron argued and for once, Hermione gave Ron an agreeing nod. “Besides, since when is Malfoy nice to anyone?” Hermione asked, Fred and George giving each other a look, they were a little more accepting than the others, but with the question raised even the twins wondered if there wasn’t another motivation there.

Sighing, you leaned back against the wall of the quad and glanced over at Neville, who had just been quietly listening to the conversation without saying a word, but the look on his face told you that he felt the same as the rest of your friends. The problem was, while you really, truly valued their opinion and you understood that they were trying to look out for you, albeit with a little tough love on Ron’s end, you knew there was something there between you and Draco but you just couldn’t seem to find the words to describe it.

Was it friendship? Was it some kind of connection deeper than that? Whatever it was, Draco seemed to become a different person around you. He was more genuine, more open, more himself and oddly, you were starting to feel like he really valued your attention and your opinion.

“You shouldn’t be giving him the satisfaction.” Ron went on, Harry now wandering over to join the group and you heaved out a sigh because you knew as soon as he joined in, the two of them would be going on about how much of ‘bloody git’ Draco was. “Give who the satisfaction?” Harry asked. “Malfoy.” Ron replied in a disgruntled tone. “Fine,” You gritted out. “Then I won’t give either of you the satisfaction, Ronald.” You suddenly burst out, everyone looking at you as if you had grown a second head from your sudden outburst. “What’s that ‘sposed to mean?” He asked, a little bewildered.

But as the days passed, your friends started to realise what you had meant by that statement. Your little chats with Draco seemed to have halted entirely, and you didn’t speak a word about your budding friendship with the Slytherin. It was as if you had completely forgotten it had ever happened and your friends were starting to wonder if you were sneaking off to talk to him without any prying eyes, but of course there was no way they could prove it.

You valued their concern, you appreciated it in fact, but stupid or not you couldn’t deny that you felt a pull towards Draco. So you removed all indication that there was any interaction with Draco at all and it became quickly apparent to you, that maybe it was safer to just have a friendship with Draco in secret, especially as you weren’t too fond of the attention that being around the Slytherin Prince brought you.

You couldn’t deny, the secret meetings with Draco felt a little wrong, purely because you knew you’d get an absolute earful from Ron if he ever found out. But you still loved spending time with Draco, because out of everyone you had ever spent time with, Draco seemed to really value your company, be it quiet or more talkative. He seemed to understand when there were days that you just didn’t want to say a lot or you were more shy than usual and he understood that it was okay to enjoy silent company, but he also enjoyed it when you had energetic days and you wanted to chat about whatever came to mind.

***

“Are you listening?” Neville asked, leaning over your chair. “Hm?” You suddenly looked up at him, a little bit startled from being pulled away from your thoughts. “If we don’t hurry up, we’re going to be late for Defence Against the Dark Arts.” Neville warned and you pulled a face of worry before you hurried to pack away your things.

“Thank Merlin.” Neville mumbled as you both practically ran up the stairs to your classroom, seeing that there was a line of students waiting outside of the room, telling you that either you were just on time or Umbridge was late, though you thought the latter to be unlikely when she liked to go on about punctuality so often.

As you joined the line, Draco Malfoy made his way up the stairs, stopping when he reached you and pushed his way into the queue, though he was careful not to push you. And while Neville was busy catching up with Susan Bones who was standing on the other side of him, Draco leaned in and whispered to you.

“Meet me after class?” He asked. “Promise no funny business, just you and me.” He murmured and you tentatively glanced up at him. “This isn’t about you know what, is it?” You asked quietly. Draco knew what you were referring to. He knew you would be worried that he might try and pry some information out of you about the DA. Checking from side to side with a quick look, he held up his hand in front of you and pointed his ring finger at you. “I promise, it’s just like our old chats.” He whispered, glancing down to see you smiling, realising he was attempting a pinky promise. “Alright, but you’re using the wrong finger.” You had to refrain from giggling and instead, you shyly hid your smile as best as you could. Hesitantly you raised your hand, almost too shy to even touch him, but you pulled his little finger free and linked it with your own. “Sorry, I always forget which finger it is, muggle promises are strange.” Draco mumbled.

It wasn’t long before Umbridge finally poked her head out of the classroom and invited everyone in.

Draco sighed as he slouched down in his chair with his arms crossed in the drier than normal Defence Against the Dark Arts class. Umbridge was particularly boring to listen to as she droned on about a test you’d all be taking soon.

Instead, his focus was trained on the notebook that peeked out of the top of his bag that sat under his desk. He wished he could pick the book up and leaf through the pages, idly reading your handwriting, take in your thoughts and feelings and remind himself of days before now. Sometimes Draco wished that he could outright approach you and tell you that it was him, that he was your soulmate, but really that would be quite a bad move.

Draco wasn’t even sure if he’d be able to actually tell you, perhaps there was something that would prevent him from doing so or some sort of consequence and he was especially wary of this since his fourth year at Hogwarts when Pansy Parkinson had involved herself.

***

“What is that tatty old thing anyway? And why do you always brandish it about like a... a trophy or something?” She had asked with a judgemental edge to her tone, stealing it right out of Draco’s lap. The boy had nearly thrown himself across the common room at her as she hurried off with it. “I bet it’s a diary.” She giggled to herself. “Yeah, or he keeps secrets in there.” Crabbe added as he joined her. “That’s what a diary is, you dolt.”

“You wouldn’t understand.” Draco stormed towards the pair of them, his heart racing with fear as he watched Pansy teasingly open the cover of the book. However, much to Pansy’s surprise and even more so to Draco’s, there wasn’t a single word, not a single drop of ink, no markings, nothing. The book was completely empty. “You really carry around an empty book?” Pansy questioned, sceptical with her upper lip curled in disappointment. “What did you expect, my heartfelt feelings?” Draco scoffed, his tone cold and sarcastic as he snatched the book back from her, trying not to appear too hurt that his book had been handled roughly. “I’m to keep it safe. Father sent it to me.” Draco lied through his teeth, but thankfully, his lies were hard to detect, even for someone who knew Draco’s tactics to uphold his image and Pansy just pulled an expression that told him that she thought it was weird.

***

But now, as he sat in class, Draco could still see the small dent in the leather cover that Pansy had caused when she’d roughly stolen it from his grasp. He was still angry about it even a year later, perhaps it was irrational to be so annoyed about damage to a book, but this was special and he remembered how very upset he had felt that someone other than him had held the book. It was precious, vulnerable and he treasured it.

But it wasn’t just the book that he treasured. No, what he considered to be more important, more precious and something truly wonderful in every aspect was you. Which was why he had started to slowly distance himself from you. But as Draco looked up to see you sitting a few rows ahead of him in the middle of the classroom, the thing that reminded him of why he wanted to see you peeked out from under your jumper sleeve. Your hand was bandaged and Draco was quite angry with himself, because the night before when you had unknowingly written to him in your book and told him that a teacher had hurt you during detention, Draco had immediately known what it meant and he was livid.

“Attention, mister Malfoy.” Umbridge practically shrieked across the classroom, slamming her hand down onto the front desk, disturbing the Friday afternoon gloom and making everyone in the room jump at her sudden raised voice before she gave him a forced smile. Draco lazily sat up in his seat, eyes flitting to you every time Umbridge turned away to write or point at something on the blackboard as his mind wandered throughout the rest of the lesson.

When the class finally came to an end and Professor Umbridge excused you all to enjoy the rest of your Friday evening, Draco left the classroom and leaned against the wall outside until the very last person left the room.

Draco gave you a subtle smile before he very quickly peeked around the doorframe to see that Umbridge was climbing the stairs to her office before he turned to look at you and give you a proper smile. “I’m so sorry it’s been months, it’s bloody difficult with her around, it’s like she’s everywhere.” Draco sighed, rolling his eyes as he pushed away from the wall and shoved his hands into his pockets. “I understand, everyone is on high alert at the moment.” You replied in a quiet tone, almost too afraid to speak up as Draco began to walk you down the stairs, having avoided the eyes of all of your classmates and hopefully any spying caretakers too.

You were anxious to be spending time with Draco after all of this time. Especially as now he was part of the Inquisitorial Squad and part of you was afraid that your friends had been right last year. What if he did try to use you? But Draco had not yet betrayed your trust and you firmly believed in giving him the benefit of the doubt, you just hoped you weren’t doing it at your own expense.

“Come, we can talk in here.” Draco stepped into a hidden little alcove that was behind a statue at the side of the staircase. It was unlikely anyone would stop long enough to be able to hear you both talking and no one could see you hidden around the corner either.

“Was she hard on you yesterday?” Draco whispered his eyes softening as he watched you give him a little nod. “Yeah, a little.” You replied. “How did you know?” You queried, shyly looking up at him. “Pansy told me she caught you and Neville yesterday.” He explained and you just gave him a little nod. It wasn’t an outright lie, Pansy had told him she’d caught some students, but she never said who, it was only until you confided in your soulmate that it had happened that he knew you must have been in the group that Parkinson had caught. He watched as you slowly lifted your hand and pulled up your jumper sleeve to show him the bandage.

“Can I see?” Draco asked softly, gently taking your hand into both of his, holding you so softly like he was afraid he could hurt you with just his tender touch. You nodded, Draco leaning down to catch the way your eyes seemed to be filled with shame and you glanced at him, only for a second with a watery gaze.

Slowly and as carefully as he could, Draco unwrapped your bandage, reading the words that had been carved into your hand. “Oh love, I’m sorry, I should have been there to stop it from happening.” Draco sounded like he was scolding himself as he apologised, the emotions reaching his eyes as they swam deep in worry.

“It’s alright, I knew I’d end up in detention with her eventually.” You sighed, watching as Draco gently held your hand in his. He couldn’t lie and say it didn’t make his stomach turn horribly. It sickened him to no end and part of the reason he had joined the Inquisitorial Squad in the first place was with the hopes that he might be able to protect you better from that position. Not that he would let on to that, though.

“Does it hurt still?” He asked. “It still stings a bit and it’s sore.” You told him, your eyes saddened as you looked down at the writing you had tried so hard to conceal all day, not just because you were ashamed of what Umbridge had done, but because you simply could not bear to look at it. Would it always be there? You wondered if it would serve as a constant reminder and you hoped that with time that it would fade, but you couldn’t help the worry that sat deep in your stomach that the mark would remain long after healing and you hoped at the very least, that it would not make your stomach turn every time you looked at it.

“I’m so sorry.” Draco sighed, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to the back of your hand, his eyes looking up to meet yours as you let a shy, watery smile take over. You hoped not to cry, but Umbridge and her punishment was still very fresh in your mind and you felt a horrible chill roll through you whenever you thought of it. Merlin only knew how you had managed to make it through your lesson with her without it affecting you terribly.

“I’m so sorry I haven’t been here, but I’m here now.” Draco whispered it so quietly as he pulled you against his side. He hated that he couldn’t promise it wouldn’t happen again. Draco hated that he couldn’t stop Umbridge from hurting you and part of him hated himself for how weak he was for you. Did you find it strange that he was so apologetic? That he was almost loving towards you? But the worry seemed to slip from his mind when he felt you lean against him. It was moments like this that made Draco question himself. He questioned if he should continue to create distance between you, or if keeping you close was easier to keep you safe. And he questioned things like if he should find a way to help you realise that he was your soulmate like he had worked out two years ago. But he was afraid. Draco was starting to feel like that was beginning to be all too common for him to feel these days as things became more intense. The pressure from his father to do increasingly worse things that simply did not align with Draco’s morals was enough to twist his mind and now with working under Umbridge, he hoped it did not skew his true alignment and morality. It was this that he was fighting so hard to keep, because it was the one thing he could control when everyone else was insistent on pushing him into the directions they wanted him to go in.

What you didn’t know though, was that your friendship, his connection with you was more than just that to Draco. When he was around you, he didn’t feel like he had to cling on to who he was and put a mask on. He could just be himself and it relieved some of the tension and the fear.

But the question begged itself again. Am I too close to her?

“You know, Draco.” You broke the silence, the Slytherin humming in response, prompting you to continue. “Sometimes I feel like I’ve known you for years.” You told him. And while it was somewhat true, you had known him since you both had started Hogwarts, you never really knew him until recently. Without even knowing what lay deeper in your connection to Draco, you could feel something there, you felt drawn to him.

That’s because you have, he thought. “I know what you mean. I’ve felt the same too.” Draco replied with a soft smile, only he really did know what you meant, more than you did and he wished he could tell you.

“We should go.” Draco spoke, almost in a regretful tone as he carefully and gently bandaged your hand back up. He hated that he had so little time with you, but he was thankful at least, that you were not against spending time with him. Stepping forwards, Draco checked the stairwell. “There’s no one around.” He reassured you. “See you soon.” Draco smiled sweetly at you. “I hope so.” You nodded, mirroring his smile before you stepped out of the alcove and made your way down the stairs quickly, Draco waiting several minutes before leaving, just in case.

The end of term was on it’s final stretch with one last exam to sit the following Monday for Defence Against the Dark Arts. But as the weekend came, you decided to spend at least some of it with the person you’d not been able to see nearly all year.

“Can I ask you something?” You broke the silence, Draco glancing over at you from his spot on the grass. You were both sat down by the lake, hidden by a bit of overgrown foliage and rocks. It was a part near the shore of the lake that not many people went to and it was perfect for spending a private moment with someone. “What is it?” He asked as he reached up to push his hair to the side.

“You’ll think it’s ridiculous.” You sighed, fiddling with the book that sat closed in your lap. “Nothing you say is ever ridiculous.” Draco said, looking over at you with a sweet smile and you felt yourself warm at his words. “Well in that case,” You paused, looking out over the horizon of the lake. “Do you believe in soulmates?” You posed the question as if you were terrified he’d tell you it was utter rubbish, but when you heard him give you a little hum as he thought about it, Draco leaned over a little, resting his hand on your arm to get your attention.

Meeting his gaze, his blue eyes softened when he saw how nervous you looked and he wondered if someone had told you that it was all an old wives tale.

You seemed to become more shy under his touch and Draco smiled to himself, feeling that it was sweet that you seemed to get so flustered whenever he touched you, even though it had very rarely happened.

“I do, I believe in soulmates.” He reassured you. Draco wanted, with every fibre of his being to show you his book, to tell you everything. But he didn’t. “Did someone tell you it was...” He trailed off. “Stupid? Yeah.” You huffed out. “Do you think there’s someone out there for us?” You asked, relaxing a little as Draco leaned down to gently grip your hand.

“I know there is.” Draco smiled softly.

Sometimes I wonder if I already know you, you wrote. Perhaps we do know each other, but we won’t know until we reach the end of this book, he wrote only moments later. The trundle of the train rolling over the tracks began to lull you into a sleepy state as you sat in a mostly empty carriage on the Hogwarts Express. It was the end of term and while too much had really happened for you to fully compartmentalize and process it all yet, you took solace in knowing that you could figuratively lean on your soulmate for comfort.

You told him everything you felt, almost like a journal and in turn he did the same. He detailed his thoughts, his feelings and he came to you when his day had been too much, but neither of you were too specific. You wished you knew who he was so that you could give him physical comfort, so you could both lean on each other and you wished for this even more so now that you started to wonder if you already knew him.

I promise I’ll write to you as often as I can. You scribbled it down into the book. But there came no answer. And days after you had arrived in London and returned home for the holidays, there was still no response.

If only Draco could tell you what had happened. If only he could write to you and explain it all from beginning to end. But he had no idea if he could, because his only way of communicating with you was no longer in his possession.

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[fangirl-creates]

2 Weeks - An MvA One Shot

(Wrote this back in October but I figured I’d post it since I don’t have any problems with it—Likes and Reblogs are appreciated!!)

She thought the whole thing had been just a bad dream, but when she woke up back in that cold dark cell, she realized it was still reality. She couldn’t understand how all of this had happened so fast—one minute she was about to get married to the love of her life, the next minute she was growing 50 feet tall, tranquilized, and sent to a Government Facility without her consent. But that wasn’t the worst part...there were monsters here. And she was considered one of them. There was no way she would be put in the same category as those...things. She wouldn’t stand for it.

About 2 more hours past and the front wall of her cell opened up, making her eyes squint to the bright fluorescent lights. A booming voice came from outside—“Rise and Shine, little lady! Time for you to go socialize with your prison mates!”

Susan recognized that voice all too well; The General. She stood up and finally saw him more clearly, a pleading look in her eyes. “Do I have to..?”

Monger let out a sigh. “If you’re gonna stay here, you should at least get to know your fellow monsters. Might be good for you all...”

“But I’m not a M—”

Monger put a hand up. “I don’t want to hear it. Now let’s get a move on..”

****

Susan was brought back into that same room, the one with the ‘open space’ and bright lights on the ceiling. The Monsters weren’t there, thankfully, so she had some time to relax. But when they eventually did show up, she wouldn’t have that feeling anymore. She slowly walked over to her table—the one that had been modified so it was the same size as her. She sat at the chair, closing her eyes as she took a moment to breathe.

The sound of a metal door opening made her flinch, but she kept her eyes closed regardless. She heard footsteps on the ground—their footsteps. She heard their voices, which ironically was the only thing ‘human’ about them.

“Ah there she is,” The Cockroach was heard, his British voice was still polite as ever, but that didn’t mean she didn’t mind his gross cockroach head and bulging bug eyes.

“Is she trying to mediate or something?” The fish man was next. He was the one she didn’t like that much. His tone wasn’t very...nice.

“Maybe she’s sleeping!” Next was the blob. He didn’t seem to know what was going on. Or maybe he did? She didn’t want to ask.

“Well, we should give her some space. This is her second day after all.” The Cockroach told them.

Susan quietly sighed with relief. She wanted them to stay away from her...or her fear would kick in again.

She heard them move to the table that was a few feet away from her rather large one. They were playing cards, their voices slowly faded into muffled whispers as she zoned out.

After a while, Susan fell asleep, one of her arms supporting her head while the other dangled from the table. B.O.B watched with curiosity as he slowly made his way up one of the table legs.

“I wouldn’t do that, buddy.” Link whispered.

“I just wanna say hello!” B.O.B replied as he got up to the top. He and Susan were only a few feet apart now. He slowly made his way to her face and gently tapped her cheek. “Helloooo?”

Susan stirred, fatigue quickly kicking in as she slowly opened her eyes. When she saw who was in front of her, she jolted awake, her entire body flinching as the chair moved a bit. She quickly made sure there wasn’t eye contact between the two. But this made B.O.B a little upset.

“It’s ok!” He smiled. “I don’t bite.”

“You could at least look at him, jeez…” Link scoffed. Susan’s behavior towards them all was expected, but that didn’t make him any less offended by it.

Susan took a deep breath and slowly turned her head to face B.O.B. She realized he was like a pile of silly puddy compared to her. So if she wasn’t this size, it would have been a lot more terrifying. But she realized quickly that she was a bit more intimidating in this state. She looked down at him, not bothering to force a smile just yet. “Hi…”

This made B.O.B smile, his face beaming. “So you said your name was Susan, right? No Monster name yet?”

“That’s right.” Maybe the General hadn’t told them about her ‘Mandatory name change’ yet. Perhaps that was a good thing.

“Huh. What’s your story, Susan?” He asked.

“My...Story?”

“Like how did you become a Monster?”

“O-Oh...right.” What else did she have left to lose? They’d probably be the only ones who would understand anyway. “Well, I was at my wedding. And I went out to get some air, then my fiancé came out to see me~”

“Gross.” Link rolled his eyes, earning an elbow nudge from Dr. Cockroach.

Susan ignored him. “And then I was alone for a bit...then...a meteor came down and...crashed onto me.”

Dr. Cockroach suddenly sat up, looking up at her. “Did you say a meteor? As in...from space?” He sounded surprised.

“Yeah…I guess something inside it did this to me…”

“Fascinating.” He took out a little notepad and wrote that down. “It’s a miracle that you even survived such a thing!”

“Pfff—big deal. I bet if a meteor hit me, I’d survive too.” Link put his feet on the table, leaning back.

Dr. Cockroach raised a brow. “I don’t think you understand the pain a gigantic space rock hurtling towards Earth would cause you, my friend.”

“Well she survived!” He gestured towards Susan. “I bet I would.”

“Mhmm..”

“Hey, Doc don’t underestimate me!”

“I never said I did.”

Susan just stared at them. They clearly had some history together, not that she bothered to ask.

A giant roar suddenly made Susan stand up in fear, her giant seat falling down.

“Not this again…” Link scoffed, yelling up to her. “It’s just Insecto! He’s not gonna hurt you, lady!”

Susan wasn’t convinced. Insectosaurus was the only one that was bigger than her—and she was 50 feet tall now! But when she noticed how annoyed Link was by her action, she managed to relax just a little. They had feelings, they weren’t human, but they had feelings.

Link leaped from his chair and made his way to the giant bug, soothing him with a voice a parent would use for a child. This seemed to calm the bug down, and Susan as well.

****

Normally Susan was asleep in her nice soft bed, but not today—not anymore. The Bed that would flip out of the wall was not very comfortable. Susan hugged her arms, sniffling as her cheeks were stained with tears. She didn’t know how many times she was going to cry herself to sleep, but no one she knew was with her. Her parents and Derek probably thought she was dead...or going to die. And even though that wasn’t the case, she was still miserable without them.

Dr. Cockroach could hear her sobs, his sympathetic side kicked in, and he pressed a little key pad, calling Monger to his cell.

Monger eventually made his way there. “Yes, Dr.?”

“Sir, would it be alright if I checked on Susan? She doesn’t seem so good.”

“That’s what I’m for.”

“Please..? I know what it’s like for her…”

Monger pondered at that for a second. “No tricks? No escape plans you need her for?”

“Honest.”

Monger gave him a stare for a second, then a nod as he led him to Susan’s cell, closing the door behind them.

Susan wiped her eyes, not turning around, her back to whoever was there.

“Are you alright, my dear?” He asked gently.

Susan didn’t respond, hugging her legs close to her.

Doc scurried up the wall and onto the bed, settling on the pillow. Her face—or rather, the top of her head was right across from him. He sat criss-crossed on the pillow, his hands together in his lap. He took a deep breath before speaking, his antennas going down. “Listen, I understand how hard all of this is for you. You’re completely cut off from the outside world, you have to stay in this prison and you’re unable to go out and see the ones you love.”

Muffled sobs were heard in response to that.

“B-But!! If you learn to appreciate what you do have—A Bed, Food, Shelter, Frie—” He cut himself off. “You’ll come to understand that...this place isn’t so terrible.”

Susan sniffled, turning to face him as she laid on her stomach. Her big watery eyes were fixated on the Doctor. It was at this moment she didn’t feel disgusted by his presence.

“Oh, my dear...look at you.” He frowned. “Here here, dry those tears.” He took off his lab coat, handing it to her. “It’s clean, I promise.” He reassured her.

She sniffed, taking the coat which was very tiny between her fingers. “T-Thanks…” She smiled, wiping her eyes with it. “Oh...I got it all wet..” She frowned, putting it down next to him. “Sorry…”

“Not to worry! I might as well go casual today.” He gestured to his dark grey turtleneck, making Susan chuckle lightly.

“Hey…” She frowned a bit. “I’m sorry if I’ve been...a little rude to you all. Behind all the looks, you’re all just people to and not just—”

“Monsters?”

Susan bit her lip. “I know I know...I feel like a horrible person…”

“It’s alright, my dear.” He placed a hand on her finger. “It makes complete sense knowing where you came from. Just make sure you tell Link how you feel. He might have been a tad offended by your words.” He cringed.

“Yeahhhh...I’ll do what I can.”

He smiled. “Well, I should let you get your rest now.” He began to leave.

“Wait! You’re a...scientist, right??”

“Yes…?”

“Do you think...you could help me? Maybe you could find a way to shrink me back to normal!”

“Oh dear...that is a tall order…”

“Oh…” Susan frowned.

“But that doesn't mean I won’t TRY!!” A maniacal laugh followed that statement. “I’d love to help you out! If Monger doesn’t try to put an end to our plan.”

“I’m sure it’ll be fine. And, Doc..?”

“Yes?”

“Thanks...for the talk…” She smiled at him.

“Anytime, Susan.” He nodded, leaving.

Susan laid back on the bed, now on her back. Sure, she wanted her old life more than anything. But if it didn’t work out, maybe she could learn to like this place.

[metalheadcowboy]

Okay but what about ftm billy experiencing cramps and he starts crying because their so bad only to get yelled at by Neil and Susan to stop crying and max is there to support him

Stop it 😭

Billy’s cramp weren’t usually as bad as they were right now. Sure, he had some bad ones, ones that made him want to curl up in bed and never get back out, ones that made him want to rip out his uterus. But these, these, were debilitating.

He had basically made a home for himself on the floor of his and Max’s shared bathroom, clad in a pair of sweatpants and his softest hoodie, blanket wrapped around his shoulders as he leaned against the side of the bathtub. He was almost two months on testosterone and he was still waiting and longing for the day that the red sea that was his period would dry up and never return. Alas, no dice.

His mouth tasted like stale vomit and stomach acid, he hated it. He felt like he had tried everything to get rid of his cramps. He took a steaming hot bath, popped more Advil pills that he could count, tried walking around but it only made him feel more nauseous. Not to mention that he had school tomorrow and there was no way Neil would let him skip for what he liked to call ‘lady problems’.

He felt trapped and miserable, like there was nothing left to do but cry and wallow in his pain, so he did. He brought his knees up to his chest and just let it out. It wasn’t often that he just let himself cry like that. Usually he was good at masking pain, but this was like above and beyond even what he could handle.

It wasn’t like before he heard a bellowing ‘Shut the fuck up!’ from the direction of Neil and Susan’s room which only made him cry harder. He felt like falling apart into a million pieces until he felt a soft tap on his shoulder.

“Max?” he asked, looking up at his younger sister standing over him. She kind of looked off to the side awkwardly and held her hand out.

“Here, thought you might need this,” she offered up, Billy quickly taking notice of the heating pad in her hand.

“Really kiddo? You sure you don’t need it?” he asked cautiously, remembering what Susan said about it being Max’s and only Max’s, making sure he knew it was not for his use.

“Yeah, we’re not in sync anymore, so... you’re good,” he replied, finally looking down at him. He guessed that with his periods becoming more and more irregular it made sense.

“You’re a life saver, Maxie,” he gushed, taking the pad part and holding the chord up to her, “Mind plugging this in over there?”

“Yeah, sure,” she agreed, walking over to a plug-in by the sink, thankfully the distance wasn’t that long between where Billy was and the outlet.

“Bet you think I’m a freak too, huh?” he questioned holding the slowly heating, heating pad up to his abdomen, “Come sit.” He decided he could use some company after a while of being alone in the bathroom.

He half expected her not to take him up on the offer and instead leave, but to his surprise he slowly slid down the wall adjacent to the bathtub he was using as a back rest.

“In what way?” she questioned, fiddling with her fingers in her lap. Billy just cracked a half smile.

“For wanting to be a boy,” he answered, wiping a bit of sweat off his forehead. Max looked like she was thinking, chewing on the inside of her cheek for a moment before turning to him with her answer.

“Not really,” she said finally, “I did always want a big brother, better hand-me-downs.” They were both smiling now.

“Just for that I think I have a leather jacket with your name on it.” Billy loved the way Max’s eyes lit up at the comment. He still wasn’t sure if she was tolerating him being trans for the clothes or because she actually accepted him, but either way worked for him.

“Plus I always thought Bianca was a bitchy name,” she inquired, “didn’t fit you.”

“I didn’t think so either,” Billy agreed, “Kind of made me sound like a rich snob.” He grinned as Max laughed at his joke.

“Daddy, where’s my Gucci?!” he impersonated, trying his best to pitch up his voice  and do an English accent without letting it crack, he ultimately failed. He could barely even get the words out of his mouth before he was folding in on himself, grimacing in pain but laughing at the same time. He could hear through his own chuckling that Max was losing her mind over his joke.

Suddenly there was another, ‘Shut up!’ from the other side of the wall, but neither of them seemed to care because it’s the closest they’d been to each other in years.

Send me trans Steve/Billy asks 💛💛

[notepadsandtealeaves]

Susan Grimshaw x GN!Reader in: Always Yours

From the van der Linde Ladies, With Love 💌 || VDE 2021

MINORS/AGELESS BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT || 18+ ONLY ||

|| ao3 version | event m.list | rdr tag | main blog ||

|| rdr vde (gents) | batboys vde | bnha vde ||

I never expected you to take on such a fundamental roll in my life, and I certainly wasn’t ready for all that you entail. You’ve awakened parts of me that I’d thought long since atrophied, and the feeling is… indescribable, you are indescribable.

Your love is one she never expected to have…

↠ Requested By: My burning desire to receive a love letter lol ↠ Reader Gender: Neutral ↠ Content Type: SFW fluff ((but my blog’s 18+ if minors want to consume my sfw stuff while still respecting my wishes of them staying out of this space, they can head over to my AO3)) ↠ CWs: None ↠ Betas? Nah, we don’t do that here. ((tho we should, honestly)) ↠ Total WC: ~600

|| Always Yours

To my dear one,

Though I know it may not seem like it, I’m actually a woman of few words. Unfortunately the questionable company we keep so enjoys pretending to be hard of hearing, so I find myself in the frustrating position of having to repeat things more often than not; if not for that I would say what needs saying and be done with it. It’s not like there’s much in this life of mine that’s worth waxing poetic over anyway—well aside from you, that is.

I won’t lie to you, honey, love is one of those things I’d given up on. My reasons for this weren’t cynical, however, but rather sentimental. I’d experienced it in several forms throughout the years, with the culmination of it all being with the one I lost before his time. By then I had loved and been loved in fullness and in truth, and though I could have stood to have held on to it for many years yet I learned to be content with what I had. It’s not as if I were alone, after all. I had—have—well over a dozen children, grown though they appear to be, to look after and they keep both my heart and hands full. I found my fulfillment in helping them along and watching them work at building lives and relationships of their own. It was a fine trade-off, all things considered, as they got up to more than enough to make living vicariously through them an interesting experience.

I had my love, my family and my friends, but the universe had one last surprise in store for me it seems.

I never expected you to take on such a fundamental roll in my life, and I certainly wasn’t ready for all that you entail. You’re so much in some ways (but never too much, don’t you worry yourself about that), and in others you can be a shrinking violet. It’s an odd, but beautiful dichotomy that you hold within yourself, my dear, and I can’t help but to love you all the more for it. You’ve awakened parts of me that I’d thought long since atrophied, and the feeling is… indescribable, you are indescribable.

____, you are one of the loveliest, most kind-hearted people I have ever had the pleasure of knowing, and I’m so glad that you’ve allowed me to share this love with you.

Now that you’ve taken your place in my life I’m not entirely sure that I could ever go back to the way things were before. I suppose it’s a good thing then that I’ll never have to.

Always yours, Susan

P.S.: I got so caught up in things that I nearly forgot what this letter what supposed to be about. Happy Valentine’s Day, my dear! I know you said you wanted to spoil me for a change—and the sentiment is very much appreciated, truly—but that didn’t stop me from getting you a gift. I can’t wait to see the look on your face when you open it, it’s sure to be amusing if nothing else. Bet that’s left you curious, but you’ll just have to wait until we get to the gift-giving portion of whatever it is you have planned.

(Though if you’re sweet enough I could possibly be convinced to give it to you sooner…) 

© notepadsandtealeaves, 2021 || Please do not repost, translate, or otherwise alter or distribute my works without my express permission. And for the love of god keep it away from Youtube and TikTok lol…

[ladylynse]

Whirlwind (SQ fic): Jake should be used to ominous predictions by now. Randy should know better than to blindly follow McFist. Adrien should think twice before sneaking away. And Danny should’ve expected something like this when he got that phone call.

Chapter 10 [FF | AO3]

Previous | Timeline post

-|-

7:36 PM

“Um, guys?” Danny said as he looked up. He might not be a dragon expert by any stretch of the imagination, but he’d spent enough time with Dora—and Jake, really—to be able to pick out the sound of giant wingbeats above the general noise of the city.

“Not now,” Jake hissed at him, pointing with his free hand to his cell phone. “I’m still on with Trixie.”

“No, Danny’s right,” Nino said, and he must have followed Danny’s gaze. “We need to move. Now.”

There was a squeak from beside him that was probably Haley. Randy had already seen the dragon, after all. Both of them were looking up, too, and must have seen Susan fly past quickly enough that she was hardly more than a flash of deeper darkness against the cloudy sky. Nightfall worked in Jake’s favour, at least. It was hard to see much of anything up there from street level.

“Here’s the plan,” Nino said, and Danny turned to him. “Get in the air. Follow her. Stay invisible, and keep us posted via these things.” He tapped his Fenton Phone. “Randy and I will transform. We’ll be distractions, since I’m assuming we’ll still be easy targets in the dark.” Haley nodded, and he continued, “Once you’re invisible, you can get close to her and grab her necklace. Just take it and get out of there, as far as you can. Don’t break it until Jake hears back from his contact about something to contain the akuma.”

Danny hadn’t exactly tested how well being invisible at night helped combat a dragon’s magical sight, but he didn’t have to heart to say that right now. He still had a better chance than the other two. In theory, at least.

“What about me?” Haley asked.

“Dragon,” Danny reminded Nino. It was easy to forget. Jake might argue it, but Danny didn’t think Haley pulled off fierce very well.

“You’d be too much of a target.”

“Just because I’m younger than you, it doesn’t mean I’m useless! You said you wanted distractions.”

“Distractions, not bait.” Nino pulled a face. “Look, I’m sorry, but I don’t want you to get hurt, and—”

“You don’t even know what I can do!”

“Let her do what she does best,” Danny suggested. “The cute little girl schtick. Sic her on McFist and Rotwood. If Trixie and Spud don’t end up fetching something from the shop, they can help her when they get here.”

Nino frowned down at Haley. “Does Rotwood know who you are?”

She shrugged. “He’s met me. He mostly focuses on Jake so he might not remember me. I might just be like any other cute little girl he’s seen.” She flashed a smile.

“I’ll give her some weapons,” Randy said. “Just a sec.” No doubt still wary of cameras, he ducked behind the dumpster and reappeared a few seconds later as the Ninja, holding out some throwing stars and different coloured balls. “These should help you keep them distracted without giving that Rotwood guy evidence of dragons.” He glanced in the direction Susan had flown and then amended, “More evidence of dragons, anyway.”

“I don’t have my backpack,” Haley said, eyeing the weapons that were overflowing from Randy’s hands.

“Here, you can take my sweater,” Nino said. He shot a worried glance at the mouth of the alley and then pulled off his hoodie, making sure to keep his back to the street. “I won’t need it as Chat Noir, anyway.”

The hooded sweatshirt swam on Haley, but it did the trick, and Randy made sure her pockets were full. “Aren’t you worried about McFist realizing that’s all Ninja stuff?” Danny asked as Nino crouched behind the dumpster to change.

“He’s bound to already know the Ninja’s in town. Or at least that a Ninja’s in town. If I’m lucky, he doesn’t realize it’s me and not, like, the Ninja of New York City.”

Danny wasn’t entirely convinced, but it was Randy’s neck, not his. Besides, his enemies all knew his real identity, and they hadn’t all used it against him. Just…most of them. He would almost swear that Technus had hacked into the school’s mainframe last time he’d attacked and figured out when Danny had major exams scheduled, as he or Skulker would invariably show up, and—

“Here, take one of these, too,” Randy said, handing one last ball to Haley. “Just be extra careful with that one. It’s a Ninja Bee Ball.”

She looked at it warily. “McFist’s not allergic, is he?”

“I have no idea. But he’d have health insurance. He’ll be fine.”

She didn’t look convinced, so Danny added, “The paramedics working the venue tonight would still be on site. Too many people are hanging around for them to have packed up and gone home. I don’t think they’d be able to just leave mid shift anyway.”

“Why is she even worried about that?” Randy asked in a loud whisper as Haley tucked away the Ninja Bee Ball and trotted to the edge of the alley, looking both ways before darting off to join the thinning crowd and find Rotwood and his new Ninja-destroying friend. “I never worry about that, and it’s always worked out for me!”

Danny shrugged. “I personally have more of a thing against ghost mosquitoes and giant hornets. If she doesn’t use it, she doesn’t use it. The important thing is that she buys us time to deal with the dragon.”

“Do you think Jake’s mom’ll even pay attention to me? She didn’t before.”

“You weren’t with me before,” Nino said, and Danny jumped. Geez, that guy could sneak up on people. Danny was far more used to sneaking up on people and scaring them than having it happen to him—mostly because of his ghost sense, but also because Tucker—

Someone shouted something made incomprehensible by distance. They all glanced in the direction it had come from, despite not being able to see anything, and waited for the screaming to start.

It didn’t.

Had no one spotted the dragon coming back? Someone must have been looking. Had she flown high enough? Or simply cleverly enough, avoiding the majority of the sightlines? Did she have some power that most dragons didn’t, something they hadn’t seen her use yet? Danny wouldn’t put anything past someone who could use magic like that, not after his experiences with Desiree.

Nino was the first to look away and call their attention back to him. “She’s clever, even more so since she has all this existing knowledge of dragons. We need to be careful, and need to take her out fast.”

“So we just, what, come out swinging?” Randy asked. “Or, ooh, how about I use my scarf to get on her back and ride her? That would be so bruce, being a dragon rider.”

Nino stared at Randy for a few seconds. His ears twitched. (Danny was pretty sure he hadn’t just imagined that. Magic would surely make it possible for the cat ears to move on their own.) After a beat, Nino said, “Well, it would be a distraction, I guess. But she’ll try to protect her necklace at any cost. She might’ve been ignoring you earlier, but she won’t if you’re that close it. And you can’t fly.”

Randy laughed; Danny wasn’t even sure if he’d been paying attention to Chat Noir’s warnings. “This will be the cheese! The Nomicon’s bound to teach me how to do the Ninja Dragon Fist after that.”

“Wait,” Danny said, remembering the term from earlier. “The Nomicon. That’s that thing that gave you that advice, right?”

Danny didn’t need to see Randy’s face to know that he was frowning. “The super unhelpful advice? Yeah. I mean, c’mon. To cleanse the soul, one must first clear the mind. I’ve figured it out now. It’s telling me to focus. As if I’m not focusing already. I mean, dragon. Super bruce. Definitely focusing on that. And trying to stop the whole panic and chaos thing from happening.”

“It’s not telling you that you need to focus,” Nino said slowly. “It’s telling you that we can get through to her.”

“What?”

Danny wasn’t entirely sure what Nino meant, either.

“Hawk Moth’s magic is a corruption of what it should be,” Nino said, as if that explained anything. “To free her of it, we need to help her clear her head. Snap her out of it.”

“By breaking the necklace and releasing the butterfly?” Randy prompted. “Isn’t that how it works?”

“But we might not need to,” insisted Nino. “You already said she’s different.” He hesitated, then amended, “At least, even if we do have to break it and free the akuma, if we can get through to her, she might be strong enough not to fight us. That would make your job a lot easier, Phantom.”

Danny wasn’t going to bet that anything would be easy, but he’d take easier if it wouldn’t blow up in their faces. Which it almost certainly would. His luck was terrible, Jake’s was obviously no better, Randy’s couldn’t be great if this McFist guy had shown up, and Nino, well…. Bad luck was following him around right now, even if it didn’t usually back in Paris—although the fact that he was a masked hero no doubt meant it did, even though this Hawk Moth guy not having what he wanted yet was definitely a point in cat boy’s favour.

Maybe a whole bunch of awful luck mixed with effort, skill, and desperation would let them come out on top.

“Might as well try it. Worst that happens is that it doesn’t work,” Danny said. “You guys head out; I’ll fill in Jake and catch up.”

They both nodded before jumping into action, Nino extending his staff and immediately disappearing to the rooftops and Randy darting across the street before swinging up to climb a fire escape on the other side. Danny drifted over to Jake, who didn’t look particularly happy. He held up one finger and kept talking to Trixie.

He finished, flipped the phone closed with a groaned, “Aw, maaaan,” and Danny didn’t need to ask.

Instead, Danny said, “Nino thinks Randy’s Nomicon thing might be saying we can get through this without freeing the akuma. He’s not sure and was hoping you’d have something to deal with it, but I’m guessing not.”

“Yeah, not. It’s not like I have Pandora’s Box just lying around.”

“It’s in the Ghost Zone,” Danny reminded him.

“So you say.” Jake sighed. “G can’t think of anything we have that won’t eventually be affected by the corrupted magic.”

“How soon of an eventually? Could Nino get back to Paris with it?”

“It would be more likely to get out while he was still on the plane, and that wouldn’t be good for anyone. Fu’s got Marty on guard duty at the shop, at least, but he can only pull so many strings, and I don’t know if he can get something to us in time.” He hesitated. “Do you think we could use your Infi-Map? That’s how you got here, isn’t it?”

“It’s not exactly my map,” Danny said slowly. “I can’t really control it. It takes you where you need to be more often than where you want to go.”

“But wouldn’t you and Nino need to be in Paris to get Ladybug’s help?”

“Probably,” Danny allowed, “but we’re just as likely to wind up somewhere else. If it were that reliable, we could use it to find this Hawk Moth guy and fight him instead of your mom. Besides, Nino and I wouldn’t both need to be back in the NYC, and how’s Nino going to explain how he got home if he disappears here? Or if the map takes us somewhere else entirely? I can fly, but he would not be comfortable piggybacking that way for a long trip, even if I went intangible.”

Jake frowned. “Fine. What about one of your parent’s ghost-catching thermoses?”

“It contains ghostly magic. It might work. I dunno. It’s not like I’ve ever tried it. Does Spud still have the one he made?”

Jake nodded and flipped his phone back open, already typing as he said, “He should. I’ll text him. He can grab it, just in case.” He met Danny’s gaze for a second, adding, “I’m assuming we need to be fighting now, since the others are gone.”

“Nino might be right, you know. If Rotwood’s here and you show up, he’ll have a field day.”

“As if he’s not going to already?”

“Haley’s going to try to distract him and this McFist guy. Did you put Trixie and Spud on that, too?”

“She’s going to do a quick scout of the shop in case Fu or Gramps forgot anything, but Spud’s going to come and do that, yeah. Well, I guess he’ll head home for the thermos and then come do that. They’ll both come, anyway. Just not right away. And Haley said Sun’s going to start doing damage control for us instead of being another set of eyes. She figures that’ll be of more use. Which I guess it is, since Mom—” Jake’s voice broke “—I mean, the dragon came back. I know G was talking about spreading rumours of this being something it’s not, but honestly Sun will be better at that kind of thing than he is.”

Danny bit his lip. “You’re not going to sit this out, are you?”

“I’m the American Dragon. You know I can’t.” He waved a hand in the general direction of the ruined gala and added, “The fire was my fault, Mom getting akumatized was my fault, and the fact that this Hawk Moth guy has been active in Paris is basically our fault, too. Dragons are supposed to protect the magical world, and the French Dragon hasn’t been replaced since the Strigoi got him.”

“Too few in number, huh?”

Jake just grunted. He probably didn’t care about the politics of it all. He would just care that people were getting hurt. And that Hawk Moth was giving magic and magical creatures a bad name at the same time as convincing a lot of people they existed.

“You dragon up. I’ll stick with you and keep you invisible for as long as I can. When I get an opening, I’ll grab the necklace—and hopefully your appearance will be enough of a distraction if Randy and Nino aren’t.”

“Remember that dragons can touch ghosts,” Jake said, as if Danny didn’t remember all the inconvenient things about dealing with living dragons. Still, truth was, they needed to surprise Hawk Moth more than Susan. She might know a lot about dragons, but it was highly unlikely he did. “And even when you’re invisible, if I’m really looking, I can see you. Sorta. In the right light.”

“Yeah,” Danny said. “I remember.”

This wasn’t the first time he’d worked with Jake. If they pulled this off, it likely wouldn’t be the last. It was nice, knowing he’d have a magical ally he could call upon if things ever got a particular type of tricky, and…. And it would be nice if the others decided they felt that way, too, when this was all over, however it ended up.

7:41 PM

Haley wasn’t sure she looked as cute as she possibly could while wearing Nino’s oversized hoodie with its pockets stuffed to bursting, but she still had a smile that would melt anyone’s heart. The plaza was easily well lit enough for people to see it, too, which helped. Showing her smile instead of her fear meant most people didn’t give her a second glance.

The first task was getting through the crowd without being stopped, so she employed the usual tactic of attaching herself to the nearest adult whenever someone noticed her. It was easy enough to pretend to be part of someone else’s group for a few seconds, either as a daughter or a family friend. People didn’t question it; they didn’t expect someone her age to be alone, so they saw what they wanted to see, especially when she kept the worry off her face.

When she needed to keep moving, she’d look for someone going in the direction she wanted to go and follow them, just closely enough that it looked natural but not so closely that they’d get that sense of being followed unless they were really good. In her experience, most people weren’t, especially old white men like Rotwood and McFist—and there were enough of those around a place like this, often accompanied with women wearing dresses that could amount to her mom’s yearly salary.

Haley never specifically called out for any parents, of course—it wouldn’t do for heads to turn and no one’s face to light up with recognition or relief—but she did occasionally raise her hand to wave to someone who wasn’t there, banking on the fact that anyone who noticed would think she was waving at someone else. She never answered anyone else’s call for someone with coming, but she would make a show of perking up and moving in that direction if it were where she wanted to go.

It was the little things. Young children on their own in a place like this? Suspicious. Curious youngsters exploring rumours of a dragon sighting who accidentally got separated from their parents, but not straying far enough that they couldn’t be found again? Much more likely.

Nino’s hoodie might actually help her in that respect. It just screamed having a big brother, even though it still smelled new and the forgotten tail of a plastic tag sometimes poked the back of her neck.

Haley stopped where she thought Rotwood wouldn’t notice her. He and McFist had stopped themselves and were talking; she couldn’t make out their words without resorting to ear of the dragon, but that was risky if Rotwood recognized her despite having her hood up.

Her job was to distract them while the others found and fought—saved—her mom.

She could do that.

If her usual cuteness failed her—that is, if Rotwood recognized her—then she’d simply lead them away and keep them busy with everything Randy had given her.

Haley glanced skyward one last time, took a deep breath, and then walked over and tugged on McFist’s arm. “Excuse me, mister?”

He glanced down at her, annoyance melting into confusion. “I’m, ah, not whoever you’re looking for. I’m in the middle of a business meeting. Maybe you could talk to someone else.”

It was a politer version of ‘get lost, kid’ than she’d expected, but she stuck out her bottom lip and let it quiver. “I’m scared.”

He frowned at her. “Of the dragon? I don’t know if it’s coming back.”

They hadn’t noticed Susan’s return. Haley tried not to let her relief show on her face. “I hope it doesn’t,” she whimpered, edging closer to McFist as Rotwood dropped into a crouch.

“You saw this dragon?” he asked, and she saw him blink in startled recognition even as she turned her face away. “Wait. I have seen you before. You are Jake Long’s sister!”

She cowered behind McFist’s leg, burying her face in his jacket, but Rotwood didn’t buy it. He grabbed her arm and pulled, ignoring McFist’s surprised shout. “You see this girl?” Rotwood said to McFist, brandishing the arm he still held and shaking her enough that her hood slipped down. She guarded the full pockets with her free hand, trying not to lose any of the ammunition she’d need to use sooner rather than later at this rate. “She is a dragon!”

“Right,” McFist said, and Haley knew from Rotwood’s souring expression that she wasn’t the only one who’d caught McFist’s quick glances to the side.

“I am telling you the truth!” insisted Rotwood. “She is a dragon, just like her brother!”

Rotwood had nothing on him to force a change on her—he would have pulled it out already if he had—so Haley let out another whimper of fear. Whatever she might tell the others later, it wasn’t faked. She had to put on a brave face, especially around Jake or he’d have sent her home with loud complaints about regretting asking for her help, but she knew exactly how scary this was and exactly how much was at risk if the situation got much worse.

She didn’t know for sure that McFist had been in the crowd earlier, but she didn’t think Rotwood would still be talking to him if he hadn’t been, which meant McFist had seen her mother. He’d seen the dragon. If Rotwood couldn’t convince him that dragons were real after that—

“They hide,” Rotwood hissed, shaking her again. Haley looked around, but no one else was looking their way. If anyone saw anything, they were ignoring it. She swallowed back the bitterness in her throat. She hadn’t wanted to be seen, but it still hurt. How could people just ignore this?

“Hide.” McFist’s voice was flat. Good. Maybe he didn’t believe Rotwood after all. That would work in her favour. That would—

“They wear human skin. This is just how she looks as a human!”

Rotwood gave her another violent shake, and Haley felt one of the throwing balls Randy had given her slip out of the hoodie’s pocket and past her fingers.

It hit the ground, bounced once, and rolled to a stop between them.

Rotwood stopped shaking her, staring with McFist at the little blue ball that now rested on the cobbles at their feet.

For a moment, nothing happened.

Then McFist said, “Wait, is that—?”

Ice erupted, frosting the street within a five foot radius, and Haley jerked free of Rotwood’s arm. She clamped one arm around her waist to contain the rest of her weapons as she bent down and shot a small flicker of fire towards her shoes, thawing it enough to wrench her feet free.

She only took two steps before another hand caught her arm, strong metal fingers digging into her through the thick fabric of the hoodie.

“Where, exactly,” McFist said, in a low growl that told her he’d be shouting if it wouldn’t have drawn more attention to them, as if the ice at their feet weren’t suspicious enough, “did you get a Ninja Cold Ball?”

7:41 PM

“That’s Chat Noir.” Hawk Moth’s voice rang in her head. “I need his ring.”

Susan could see the ring in question as easily as she could see Chat Noir himself. He was surefooted, running with ease where others would hesitate and wobble and balance precariously, and he used his staff as an extension of himself, vaulting through the air without needing to think about where he positioned it before he leapt. That spoke of talent, skill, and oh so much practice.

This was far from Chat Noir’s first fight, which meant Hawk Moth hadn’t yet managed to best him.

Hawk Moth’s search for power had brought him here, to find a way to conquer his enemies. It was laughable that his enemy—one of his enemies?—had found him. Even if it were mere coincidence, it hardly boded well for his venture.

“Focus,” Hawk Moth hissed. “If you cannot focus, perhaps I’ll need to find a way to draw out your son.”

“A trade, then.” It was not something she should be contemplating. “My son for this Chat Noir.”

“We have already struck our bargain, Dracona.” The name sent a shudder through her, and she lost a bit of height as she spasmed. “You’ve already agreed to fetch me Chat Noir’s ring, just as you agreed to tell me about this city’s heroes.”

Tell, but not sacrifice. Tell, but not necessarily turn against.

She could fulfill their bargain to the letter, but she didn’t need to fulfill the spirit of it if she could find a way around it. She could still save her son. She could still keep Haley from being involved. She could still—

She couldn’t save Chat Noir without endangering Jake and the others.

Not if Chat Noir crossed her path.

She’d only agreed to fetch his ring if he crossed her path.

She banked abruptly to her right, hearing a surprised, “What the juice?” from the Ninja as he pulled up short.

There was more shouting behind her, no doubt as Chat Noir joined the Ninja, but she didn’t look back.

“Dracona.”

She could feel his threat reverberating in her bones.

“You cannot break our agreement. Now turn around and fight them!”

The heat was rising in her belly. Each wingbeat was becoming more strained, weighted by her foolish promise. How could she have sacrificed anyone’s freedom for her own? And yet— How could she give this up, now that she’d tasted it? If Chat Noir had fought people like her before, he’d know exactly how to take all of this away from her.

She didn’t want to let him do that.

She didn’t want to give Hawk Moth any reason to try to use Jake against her. She was sure he still didn’t quite know, didn’t quite understand, but he knew and understood enough. He knew she considered Jake a hero, knew he’d fought against people much like Hawk Moth before, and he— He might even know that Jake was special—magical—even if he didn’t know why.

But Jake would be here soon enough whether or not Hawk Moth tried to deliberately draw him out.

She was circling back before she realized what she was doing. She dodged a fireball shot at her by the Ninja and sent one at him in return. She could deal with him easily enough if he became a problem, but ultimately, he wasn’t her concern. He wasn’t one of this town’s heroes. He wasn’t Chat Noir. She didn’t have to…. She could spare him.

Chat Noir darted in front of her, joining the Ninja. She could hear his frantic whispers, about Hawk Moth, about what he thought he knew about her. He was a fool, just as she’d been a fool.

She couldn’t protect Chat Noir. Certainly, she couldn’t protect him if she wanted to protect Jake. She’d have to get this ring. She could feel how much Hawk Moth wanted it. It was real, tangible, so much more useful than information he couldn’t easily apply. If she succeeded in this, he might be satisfied.

Chat Noir and the Ninja split up. She focused on her target, whose acrobatics were better than some of the Huntsclan initiates she’d met—about as good as Huntsgirl’s had been before she’d only become Rose and never one of the Huntsclan.

Behind her, the Ninja’s latest fireball rolled harmlessly off her scales. She adjusted her wings and weight and whipped her tail in his general direction, spinning into a roll with the additional momentum. Even though she didn’t hit anything, she heard a yelp behind her. She shot forward at an angle to Chat Noir, keeping him in her sights. He danced away from her, staying just past what he must think was the reach of her flame.

Pity he’d misjudged the distance.

The plume of fire she sent at him was still short of how far she could send it, if necessary, but it was long enough for what she wanted. Her goal was to cut him off and force him to his left; nothing more. He flipped away from the fire, and she started to follow his movements, but a hand-shaped wave closed around her flame and turned to steam, neatly providing a screen for Chat Noir’s escape.

Seems she hadn’t done enough to knock the Ninja off his game after all.

She hadn’t wanted to involve him, but she wouldn’t have a choice if he insisted on involving himself. She needed to finish this quickly, before Jake tried to get involved. She wasn’t sure she could protect him if he came.

Besides, it wasn’t as if she intended to hurt Chat Noir or the Ninja. She didn’t. She simply wanted Chat Noir’s ring. Now, if they got hurt trying to stop her, well, she could hardly pull all her punches and expect to finish this soon enough to avoid Jake’s interference.

A few heavy wingbeats brought her higher and forced the Ninja and Chat Noir to brace themselves. Chat Noir had planted his staff against the rooftop, and both he and the Ninja were hanging onto it, heads together. Indistinct murmuring reached her ears, but rather than focus to figure out what they were saying, she sent a blast of fire at them and drove them apart.

They spiralled in opposite directions. The Ninja reached into his pocket to pull out another one of those ice bombs of his. He lobbed it in her direction, and it caught the tip of her foot as she moved away. She shrieked as not ice but electricity erupted from it, racing through her body and causing her to drop. She hit the roof, something snapping beneath her weight, and the Ninja conjured another fist of water and threw it at her. Before she had time to blink all the water from her eyes, he’d tossed more of those Ninja Electro-Balls at her.

Chat Noir vaulted back into view before she’d found her feet, no doubt hoping the Ninja’s attack had incapacitated her. She waited and caught her breath, more than happy to pretend that all those Ninja Rings and Ninja Throwing Stars the Ninja was hurling her way hurt more than they did. He clearly had no idea how much her scales protected her, and she felt no need to correct his assumption right now.

Now that the electricity had dispersed, Chat Noir was coming at her in a zigzagging run. He split his staff into two as he went and then threw one half. She twisted her head out of the way—it had been aimed for her eye—and sent a stream of flame at his other hand, intending to heat the metal before he could throw it.

She saw the Ninja’s scarf wrap around his torso and jerk him backwards before her fire could reach him. The Ninja gave Chat Noir a handful of coloured balls and then sprinted behind her and out of sight, considering she wasn’t about to take her eyes off Chat Noir. She thrashed her tail, hoping to knock the Ninja off his feet even as Chat Noir took aim and began to throw.

To say that the first explosion stung was an understatement, and she gave up her pretence of helplessness as two more followed in quick succession. She was recovered enough now, and she didn’t like being made the fool.

Her first step forward proved to be a mistake, as her foot slipped out from under her in a pile of marbles. She sent her full force of flame at Chat Noir then, but the Ninja was back with his staff, and he’d rejoined the halves and was spinning it to dissipate her fire.

They were talking again.

She was getting so tired of them talking. Planning. Plotting. She just needed Chat Noir’s ring. She simply—

The Ninja’s suit burned red with magic, her split-second warning that another fireball was coming her way. She met it with her own, raising herself up with a roar and using the wind from her wingbeats to try to knock them off their feet again. This time, the Ninja toppled, unprepared, though Chat Noir crouched and managed to keep his feet.

“You must get his ring,” whispered Hawk Moth in her head, “but do not let him touch your necklace.”

They were fighting her from a distance.

For them, that made it a fairer fight.

But she didn’t have to fight fair.

She could get close to them without letting them get too close to her.

She sent another blast of fire towards them as cover before flying over the flames and diving toward them, talons outstretched.

(see more fics | next)

[ibelieveinharrystyles]

Chapter One: Something New

this is the first part of my new series i hope you enjoy it :)

Forever? Masterlist

31st October 2015

Somehow Ashley was late, well she wasn’t late late, just later than she had said she’d be, who knew getting two trains from Holmes Chapel to Sheffield could be so time consuming. She panted heavily as she approached the security at the back entrance to the arena, showing them her driver’s license, and they checked her name off of the guest list, Paul led her down the corridors and through the arena to catering where Harry was sat eating food from the buffet, they hadn’t seen each other in almost a month, but they still managed to speak pretty much everyday. She quietly approached her best friend who was sitting across the table from Niall, clearly involved in a heated debate. “Guess who?” she chimed, covering his eyes with her hands.

“Susan Boyle?” he joked, before Ashley lightly slapped him round the back of the head.

“You’re a little shit, you know that don’t you?” she told him as she placed her bag and jacket on the chair beside Harry.

“But you wouldn’t have me any other way would you?” he replied, standing up and hugging her from behind, his arms wrapped tightly around her shoulders, his exquisitely decorated arms holding her tightly. “I’ve missed being your little shit.” Harry told her, “Food! Do you want some food? I told Sarah to make your favourite because I knew you were coming.”

“You’re a soft bugger aren’t you?”

“I think I prefered little shit.” Harry chuckled, his cheeky grin stretching from ear to ear.

“So how’ve you been?” Harry asked eagerly as the two of them found a space at a spare table, Ashley tucking into her plate of cheesy pasta and salad.

“Not bad, It’s weird not being in education, when I decided to take a gap year I thought I’d be buzzing, but I’m so bored.” She explained, twirling the pasta on her fork.

“Well I’m just happy to have you here love, I missed you.” he smiled, picking at Ashley’s pasta.

“I missed you too H, do you reckon you’ll come back home when the break begins?”

“For a little bit, I’m back at Christmas, but it looks like I’ll be in LA for New Years this year.”

“Oh I bet you will,” Ashley teased.

“What do you mean by that?” Harry smirked.

“You know exactly what I mean Styles! I do use social media you know, I’ve seen the pictures of you and Kendall, as long as you’re happy I’m happy, you are happy aren’t you?” she replied.

“I am Ash, I think I am.” Harry replied, sitting back in his plastic chair.

“What do you mean you think?”

“Alright Ashley? How’s tricks?” Louis asked as he took a seat beside her.

“Not bad, not bad, I hear congratulations are in order though, dad! that’s pretty crazy.”

“Yeah it’s mad innit, I’m excited though, lookin’ forward to it.”

“I’ve seen you with your Doris and Ernie, you’ll be a great dad.” she assured him.

“Cheers darling that means a lot,” Louis replied.

“I’ll see you two later.” Harry stood you, prepared to slip away before the topic of conversation turned back to him.

“Hey Styles! You didn’t answer my question.” Ashley called after him.

“Forget what I said, I’m happy. Promise.”

The final show was less than an hour away, the boys and their respective family and friends were all sat in catering together, the mood was different, everyone would always be so hyped up for a show, but today they were mellow, there was the same laughter there had always been, that was unmistakable, but it was different, everyone was reminiscent, talking about their favourite memories of the band that had been such a massive part of their lives. Ashley could sense Harry was quieter, he sat next to her twiddling with his thumbs and fiddling with his hair that Lou had only just fixed. “You wanna go for a walk?” She whispered, nudging his arm, he nodded.

The pair found themselves sitting on some steps behind the stage, the shrieks and chatter of the fans surrounded them as they did, “What’s eating you up H? I don’t think I’ve seen you like this before.” She rubbed her hand up and down his back, letting him know she was there if he needed her.

“Do you think we’re making a mistake?” Harry asked, looking at the floor.

“I think you’re making the right decision for you, look at it this way, you wouldn’t drive a car from London to Scotland without stopping off in Liverpool for petrol on the way, and you ,might decide not to stay in Liverpool too long, but on the other hand you might like Liverpool a lot, and you might decide to stay in Liverpool longer then you’d planned. What I’m trying to say is H, the last five years have burnt you all out, you wouldn’t be human if they hadn’t, no one would blame you Harry, how could they?” Before the band Ashley had always looked to Harry for advice, like she would an older brother, but ever since the X Factor final the tables turned, Y/N would always assure Harry that somehow everything was going to be alright.

“I’ve been offered a solo record deal.” Harry told her quickly, like it was a plaster he’d been meaning to rip off of his skin.

“That’s good isn’t it?”

“It’s three albums, no time scale, no pressure.”

“Looks like you’ll be stopping off in Liverpool a little longer than originally planned.” She told him, causing Harry to let out a loud chuckle, he rested his head on her shoulder and let out a relieved sigh, “Do you remember what I told you that night at the X Factor Final? when you were a skinny sixteen year old in baggy jeans, and I was a little fourteen year old with a terrible fringe.”

“No I don’t, that whole night is a massive blur.” he replied.

“You were anxious about the future, I told you that moment was just the beginning but you weren’t sure, and I said to you, tell me that in five years when you’ve got number one albums, won awards and sold out arenas, and frankly Harry my sentiments remain the same, you are going to do amazing things in the next few years, and the world will get to see the real Harry Edward Styles.”

The final show had drawn to an end, there were tears, before, during and after the show, mostly from the mums, tears of joy that their sons had accomplished so much, but also tears of sorrow, the feeling of uncertainty, not knowing what the next few years would hold. “You alright?” Ashley asked Harry whilst they were standing at the bar in the midst of the after party.

“Yeah, just about, come here,” he wrapped his arms around her, swaying from side to side as the music changed, “I’m so lucky I get to call you my best friend.”

“It's that song H, the one that Gemma had on that day we first met.” Ashley told him, gazing up at her best friend.

“We best go dance to our song then.” He replied, taking her by the hand and leading her to the dancefloor, the two of them dancing how you would expect two slightly drunk people to dance “But you don’t pull my strings cause I’m a better man moving on to better things!” Harry shouted, as they continued to dance together, laughing hysterically as Ashley held onto Harry’s hands.

“Strong dance moves Ash.” Niall chuckled as she returned to the bar, “Oh this is Matt, he’s been part of our tour crew for the UK leg, Matt this is Ashley.”

“Nice to meet you.” His Geordie accent thicker than any she’d heard before, his hair was combed back on top, and short at the sides, leading her to infer he was a peaky blinders fan. “Those were some impressive dance moves.”

“I’ll leave you two to it.” Niall announced taking his beer from the bar, “don’t do anything I wouldn’t,” He whispered to Ashley, sparking a small grin on her face.

“What are you drinking?” Matt asked as she took a seat on the barstool beside him.

“Heineken.” She told him, he raised his eyebrows, clearly surprised, “Were you expecting me to say white wine or something?”

“Usually I can tell what sort of drink someone would go for, how about you grab us a table and I’ll bring your drinks over.”

Ashley had no clue what possessed her to invite Matt back to her hotel room, he said he fancied a chilled one where it was quieter, and she quite agreed, the music was intense and the chance of having a proper conversation was slim to none. “So how long have you known Harry?” he asked, taking a swig from his beer bottle.

“Ten years, we were neighbours when we were kids, and I guess we’ve just been best friends since then.” She explained.

“So you’re not together?” He asked.

“God no, Harry’s like my brother, he’s always looked out for me, I’ve always looked out for him.” She explained.

“And what does your boyfriend think of how close you two are?”

“I haven’t got one.”

“There’s no way someone as fit as you doesn’t have a boyfriend,” he told her, edging closer to where she was sitting on the bed, placing his hand on the bare skin of her thigh, gradually sliding it up, under her skirt.

“You’ve got protection haven’t you?” she asked, reciprocating his kisses.

“Of course I do.” He told her, unbuckling his belt, his kisses became more intense as he hovered over her, there was no connection, not on Ashley’s part anyway.

“Rise and shine sleepyhead.” Ashley stirred from her sleep to see Harry knelt beside her bed, “I bought you some food petal,” He told her, stroking the hair from her face, before passing her a face wipe to remove last night’s makeup from her face.

“What did I do to deserve a friend as good as you?” She asked, sitting up in bed as she took a croissant from the plate Harry had placed beside her bed to nibble on.

“You’re clearly just born lucky.” He told her, “So tell me, where did you and Matt get to last night?”

“Oh shit.” she fell back against the pillow, hiding her embarrassed face from Harry, “We slept together,” she whispered.

“And he’s not here now? He’s literally just left you here? If I weren’t the calm person I am I’d be out of here looking for him.” Harry exclaimed, the anger in his voice apparent.

“If I’m honest H, I’m not bothered whether I see him again or not, he wasn’t the best I’ve had.”

“Who was?” Harry asked, clearly intrigued who his best friend had been with.

“Luke.” She shot him a knowing look, waiting for him to figure it out.

“As in Australian Luke? When did that happen?” He asked.

“The Take Me Home Tour Show in London, it was only one night Haz.”

“How come you never told me?”

“Do you tell me about every aspect of your sex life?” She replied quickly.

“I best leave you to get ready,” he stood up, making his way towards the door, “Quick one love, if you are going to have sex next door to me in the middle of the night could you keep it down a bit, these walls are paper thin.” He turned on his heel, smirking cheekily as he strolled out of her room.

“You’re a little shit Harry!” Ashley shouted after him.

“Love you too!” Harry shouted back, sighing to himself as he left the room.

[cristinablackthornkingson]

Arc of a Scythe Short Story #1.

It is a warm spring day in the year of the Lynx, a few months since Scythe Michael Faraday and Scythe Marie Curie ‘retired’ to a beach house in Amazonia They have recently rekindled their relationship, and are often visited by Citra and Rowan, who are two of the only people who know that Marie and Michael are still alive, and did not self-glean, as the rest of the world believes. 

When Xenocrates stepped down as High Blade years ago, Marie was voted in as the new High Blade. She, Rowan and Citra barely made it off Endura before it sunk thanks to Goddard. The sinking of Endura caused war to break out among The Scythedom, and everything was a mess for almost a year, until out of nowhere, Scythe Rand turned on Goddard and quiet literally stabbed him in the back, ending him and thus ending the war. Rand mostly keeps to herself now, and though nobody on either side has forgiven her, she doesn’t bother anybody so they don’t bother her.

Marie did not accept the position of High Blade of MidMerica, she did not feel it necessary once Scythe Goddard was no longer a threat. 

She and Anastasia returned to their normal lives for about 2 years, before Marie decided that it was time to put Scythe Marie Curie to rest, and simply be Susan Goldie, once again. 

She told only Anastasia and Rowan of her plans. (Rowan was punished for the crimes he committed as Scythe Lucifer by being rendered deadish 13 times, once for each Scythe he ended. He was then made unsavory by The Thunderhead for 13 years, but 13 years is nothing to an immortal, and he is just glad he can still see Citra, they may not be able to be together, but they can be friends.)  Anastasia was more than understanding and promised to visit as often as she could, she would miss Marie as she missed Faraday, but ultimately she wanted them both to be happy, and would support however they went about getting that happiness. 

Citra and Rowan aren’t the only ones Michael and Marie keep in touch with, form their old life. Michael still keeps in touch with Munira, who is still working in the library of Alexandria. They mostly keep in touch online, though they have visited in person once or twice.

Marie and Michael are not known or recognized at all here in Amazonia, and have chosen not to revert to their birth names, it would feel unnatural after all these years, and after all they did not fall in love as Susan and Gerald (though Marie did fall in love with him as Susan) they fell in love as Marie and Michael, and feel it is only fitting that they should be together now, as Marie and Michael. They have both adopted the surname Wilson. Here in Amazonia, everyone knows them as a married couple, even though they are not legally married. 

They have settled in well here over the past few months. They haven’t done anything grand or interesting, they are simply finally enjoying domestic life. 

They have just finished dinner and are clearing up, when Marie brings up the first serious topic they’ve discussed. 

“You know.” Marie says to Michael, as they clear the dishes from the table. “I’ve been thinking a lot, about all the things we said we would do together if we weren’t Scythes and didn’t have the 9th Commandment to think about.” 

“Oh?” Michael asks, wondering where Marie is going with this.

“One thing we always talked about was... well we always talked about having a baby.” Marie shyly says in a quiet tone, trying not to get her hopes up. Michael almost drops the plate he is holding. He had not been expecting that.

“I... did we?” he asks in a breathless tone of shock. 

“Yes, quiet a lot, but you might have changed your mind.” Marie quietly says, not meeting Michael’s gaze. 

“I... I haven’t, have you?” He softly asks, setting the plate down and taking her hand in his. Hope swells in Marie’s chest and her breath catches in her throat as she shakes her head.

“No, I haven’t. We could do it now, we could have a baby.” 

“I... could we?” Marie shrugs and rests her head on Michael’s shoulder. 

“I don’t see why not, no one knows who we are expect for Citra, Munira and Rowan, all it would take is for me to turn a corner and I’d be able to get pregnant, or we could adopt.” Marie softly says, looking up at Michael to try and gauge his reaction by the look on his face.

“Why not both? We could have a biological baby now and then adopt in a few years.” Michael suggests, slipping an arm around Marie’s waist. He has always liked the idea of being a father, especially since taking Citra and Rowan in and having them become like children to him, it would be an amazing experience to be able to love and raise a child from birth, to teach them how to be a good, loving and open person, and to be able to see part of him and part of Marie in another person, a person they made together, well that would be the most amazing thing in the world.

“So you want to do it? You want to have a baby?” Marie hopefully asks, looking up at Michael. He grins and leans down to kiss her. 

“Yes, yes I do.” 

“Okay then, I’ll go to the turning center tomorrow. You know I don’t think I’ll keep my silver hair this time, silver was Scythe Curie’s style, not so much Marie Wilson’s.”  Marie says in a light tone, when she pulls back from her embrace with Michael, glancing at her long silver hair lying free around her shoulders. 

“I like the silver.” Michael says, running his hand through her hair. 

“You liked the brown too, you fell in love with me when I had brown hair.” Marie points out with a grin. 

“That I did, your brown hair always makes me think of you as Susan, my apprentice, who tried to climb into bed with me in the middle of the night.” Michael teases in an amused tone, as Marie flushes red. 

“I did not try and climb into bed with you, you stopped me before I could.” She admits with a shy smile. Michael laughs lightly and leans in to kiss her forehead. 

“I love you.” he softly says, holding Marie close to him, cupping her  cheek in one hand. Marie squeezes his hand and leans into him. 

“I love you too.” She tells him.

Two months later, when Michael returns home from on early morning walk along the beach, he is surprised when he finds that Marie isn’t still in bed, like she was when he left. Ever since retiring, Marie has enjoyed sleeping in and not having to be up and out at the crack of dawn everyday, she likes to stay in bed for an hour or two after waking up. 

“Marie?” Michael calls, looking around the room for any sign of her. 

“In here, come in!” Her familiar voice calls from the en suite bathroom. Michael furrows his brow in confusion, not understanding why she is calling him into the bathroom, they’re a close couple but not that close.

“Is everything alright?” He asks, standing by the cracked door of the en suite. 

“Yes yes everything’s fine, I want to show you something.” Marie appears in the doorway, her lavender bath robe wrapped around her. She reaches out and grabs Michael’s wrist before pulling him into the bathroom and over to the sink. “Look!” She exclaims, pointing into the sink. It takes Michael a moment to realize that the object Marie is pointing to, is a pregnancy test, one with the word ‘Pregnant’ clearly displayed in the window in the middle of the test. 

“Oh my god.” Michael quietly says, shock washing over him. “Marie... you’re pregnant?” He adds in a soft tone, tearing up as he turns to look at Marie, who is glowing with joy as she grins and nods. 

“Yes! Yes I am, I told you it wouldn’t take long.” She says in an excited tone, linking her arms around the back of his neck and leaning to kiss his cheek. Michael tentatively reaches out and carefully lays his hand across Marie’s flat stomach, trying to wrap his mind around the fact that his child is growing right beneath his hand, and in a few months he’ll be able to feel them move and kick, and a few months after that, he will actually be holding his baby, his and Marie’s baby. 

“Is... is it a boy or a girl?” Michael quietly asks, too shocked and overwhelmed to come up with anything else to ask.

“I don’t know, I haven’t had a scan yet, and even if I had, it’s too early to tell just yet, but my bets are on a boy.” Marie confidently says, certain that she and Michael are going to have a son.

“A boy? No, it’s a girl, I always pictured us having a girl first.” Michael says, coming down from the shock and  disbelief. 

“Well I guess we will just have to wait until they can tell on the scan, then you’ll see you’re wrong.” Marie says in a teasing tone. Really thought, she could not care less about her baby’s sex, she is just so excited to finally have the life she has always wanted since she fell in love with Michael, as his apprentice. 

When Marie is 3 months along, Citra and Rowan arrive for a visit. They don’t know about the baby yet, so Marie and Michael plan to tell them today, it took everything Marie had, not to tell them the second they were through the door. 

“How is everything back home? Is there anything we should know about?” Michael asks, hoping nothing will happen that will call for he and Marie to come out of retirement, not now they finally have the life they’ve always wanted together. 

“No nothing really, everything is quiet and normal thankfully. Is there anything special going on here?” Citra asks, not realizing she just created the perfect segway into a pregnancy announcement. 

 “Actually there is something we want to tell you.” Marie says, sharing a grin with Michael as she slips her hand into his. 

“What is it?” Rowan curiously asks. 

“I’m pregnant.” Marie softly says, resting a hand across her stomach. Citra’s hand flies up to cover her mouth and Rowan’s jaw drops in disbelief, clearly they were not expecting this. 

“Oh my god.” Citra quietly says. “I-I didn’t even know you wanted kids.” 

“Michael and I both let go of the idea of having children when we became Scythes, it was something we often talked about when we were together and would imagine what life would be like if we weren’t Scythes, but like I said we never thought it would be possible, until we retired to here. Once we had settled into life here, I realized we could have baby like we always talked about. That’s why I turned a corner, so we would be able to have a biological child.” Marie calmly explains. 

“I am going to be the coolest uncle ever.” Rowan says in a proud tone, thinking of all the fun things he’ll be able to do with the baby, he intends to be the kind of Uncle who lets the kid stay up way past their bedtime and eat all the sugar they want, then send them back to their parents cranky and coming down from a sugar rush. Citra will probably be the responsible Aunt who makes the kid eat their vegetables and do their homework, so Rowan will probably be the favorite. 

“When is the baby due? Do you know if it’s a boy or a girl?” Citra eagerly asks, leaning forward in her seat. 

“The baby’s due in October, the middle of October, and we don’t know the sex, we’re going to wait until the baby is born to find out.” Marie says. They had decided not to find out the sex of the baby, despite having opposing opinions on what the sex is. It was Marie who suggested they leave it as a surprise, so few things in life are a surprise these days, much less good ones, she feels it will be exciting and nice to have this small surprise. It will also make choosing a name more exciting and fun, since they have agreed they’d like to have a name picked out by the time the baby arrives. 

“Oh this is so exciting!” Citra exclaims. She is thrilled for Marie and Michael, they will be amazing parents and deserve to have a family of their own, after all they’ve been through since they fell in love. 

After they told Citra and Rowan about the baby, Michael told Munira over online chat. At first she was quiet weirded out by the idea of it, since to her Michael and Marie were still Honorable Scythe Curie and Honorable Scythe Faraday, and she definitely never pictured them as parents, especially not Faraday. She was and is happy for them, however, and promises to send lots of gifts for the baby and come visit when they are born.

Over the next few months, Marie and Michael start to prepare for the baby, stocking up on diapers and formula, buying clothes and toys and furniture for the nursery. 

At approximately 5 months, things to start to feel a lot more real for Michael, when he feels the baby kick for the first time.

It is a warm evening in June when the baby kicks for the first time. Both Michael and Marie are sitting on the sofa, Michael reading through his old Scythe journals on the Ipad, and Marie making out a list of names with pen and paper. Michael is engrossed in his reading when he hears Marie give a faint gasp and looks up to see her sitting completely still, her hand on her stomach and a look of both shock and delight on her face. 

“Marie? Is everything alright?” He hesitantly asks, afraid that perhaps something is wrong with Marie or the baby.

“Give me your hand.” Marie says, reaching out with the hand that isn’t on her stomach. 

“What? Why?” Michael asks in a confused tone. 

“You’ll see, just give me your hand!” Still confused, Michael places his hand in Marie’s, becoming even more confused when she lays his hand on top of her stomach, holding it there with her own. 

“Marie I don’t_” Michael begins, but is cut off by the feeling of a small and gentle nudge against his palm.

“There!” Marie exclaims in delight. “Did you feel it?”

“I-I did, what was it?” Michael softly asks. 

“I think it was a kick, it’s the first one I’ve felt.” Marie says. Michael places his other hand on her stomach, trying to feel another kick. It was the most amazing thing he had ever felt and witnessed, and it made it all so much more real for him. Over the last few months he had almost felt as if he were not part of this pregnancy, since Marie is carrying the baby and feels all the symptoms of pregnancy almost everyday, he had not been able to feel the baby kick until now, or do anything much besides care for Marie and help prepare for the baby.

“That... that is amazing.” Michael says in a tone of awe, for once in his life lost for words. “It all feels so real now, I cannot believe in less than 5 months, we’re going to be parents. I have to admit, I am quiet nervous.” He adds with a nervous laugh. Michael has very little experience with children, he had nieces and nephews he would occasionally watch, before he became a Scythe, but that was when they were older, he had been around and helped out a bit when they were babies and toddlers, but nothing significant. He has never changed a diaper or fed a baby, he hardly knows a thing about children and has no idea how to be a good father. 

“Michael.” Marie softly says, running a hand through his hair. “You are going to be a wonderful father, I know you’re afraid because you don’t know much about children, but neither do I. 

The only experience I have with them is from when my brother was born, and I was only a child myself then, so I don’t remember much about it. I’ve always loved children, yes, but I don’t know how to be a mother or anything about children, but we will learn, we have all we need to start out with, we have money, we have a home, each other for support, and endless amounts of love to give to this little one, I promise everything will be alright.” 

“Yes... Yes I suppose you’re right, as usual. Show me your list of names, we should narrow it down soon.” Michael says, reaching for the notepad by Marie’s side, hoping choosing a name for the baby will also help solidify them and make them more real to him. 

“I haven’t come up with many, naming a baby is harder than I thought it would be.” Marie says, as Michael reads through the short list of names. They’re all old-fashioned classical names, ones that have no big significance, given their pasts as Scythes and how they took on meaningful names from history, Michael and Marie decided not to give their child a historically meaningful name, simply a name they both like.

“I like Mia for a girl.” Michael says. “I can picture us with a daughter named Mia, and no one will be able to give her a ridiculous nick name, you can’t shorten Mia, though I’m sure Rowan will try.” Michael says with a grin and a sigh. 

“I like Mia too, but I also like Willow, though Willow Wilson sounds a bit much.” Marie lightly says, her hand resting on her stomach.

“How about Mia Willow then? Mia Willow Wilson?” Michael suggests. 

“Mia, Mia Willow.” Marie says in a thoughtful tone, looking at her stomach as she runs a hand across it. “I like it, although we’re not going to need to use it since we’re definitely having a boy.” 

“You don’t seem to have many boy’s names here, for someone who is so adamant we’re having a son.” Michael teases, turning his attention back to the list. 

“I know, all the names I liked before I became a Scythe and thought about having a family, have been ruined by New Order Scythes, I use to love the name Robert, but there’s no way I’m naming my son that, now.” Marie says, shifting to a more comfortable position on the sofa.

“Out of the few that you have here, I like Alexander the most.” Michael says. If they name the baby Alexander, he’ll probably be called Alex a lot, but it’s not the worst nickname, as long as nobody makes up something ridiculous for him, Alexander will work well.

“I prefer Andrew, though people will probably call him Andy or Drew.” Marie says in an amused tone, knowing how much Michael hates nicknames. Some Scythes would try to call him Mike or Mikey, years ago, but he always insisted they call him by his full name. Apparently he also use to get ‘Gerry’ a lot, when he was Gerald, which he hated even more than Mike and Mikey. 

“I will glean them if they do.” Michael flatly says, irritation building up in him at the memory of people trying to call him Mike and Mikey, and his family trying to call him Gerry, before he was ordained. Marie doesn’t mind nicknames as much, she had plenty as a child, usually Susie or Sue, but Michael simply can’t stand them, though he had called her Susie once or twice, when she was his apprentice, it was a term of endearment for him and always made Marie (Susan, back then) blush like hell, it was adorable. 

“Oh, what about Henry? You can’t really shorten Henry or make a nickname for Henry.” Marie asks in a eager tone. “We could name him Henry Alexander.” Michael takes a moment to ponder this, before nodding apporvingly. 

“Henry Alexander Wilson, I think it works, though we won’t need it, I know we’re having a girl.” Marie grins and rolls her eyes.

“I know you’re wrong, but we’ll just have to wait until they’re born to find out.” 

4 months later, on a stormy October night, Marie is pulled from her sleep by an unfamiliar tightening pain in her lower abdomen. She waits for a few seconds, to see if her naniets will dull the pain, but after a minute or two, the pain doesn’t fade. Slowly, Marie pushes herself up in the bed, unable to hold back a gasp as another intense pain washes over her. She has been through a lot in her life, she died seven deaths for Michael, some of which were extremely painful and brutal, but nothing compares to the pain she is experiencing right now.

As she contemplates whether or not to wake Michael, one of the bedside lamps flicks on and Michael sits up next to her.

“Marie, are you alright?” He softly asks, placing a hand on her back.

“I think... I think I’m having contractions.” Marie says in a breathy tone, her hands clutching her stomach. She can’t imagine what else these pains could be, it’s a week past her due date, so she has been prepared to go into labor at any minute over the last week or so. 

“Are you sure, how many pains have you had?” Michael asks. 

“Only 1 or 2, but I can’t imagine it’s anything else.”

Over the next 20 minutes, Marie has a few more pains, all feeling pretty much the same, confirming to her that this is labor. Both she and Michael know there is no point in calling their midwife yet, these early stages of labor can be very, very long,and the pain is not so intense yet that Marie feels she needs her nanites adjusted, so for the next two hours or so, she deals with the pains by pacing around the room, talking to Michael about what the baby will look like, who they’ll look like, what their personality will be like, etc. 

About two hours later, though the pains are still bearable, they are getting more strong and intense, which is a sign that things are moving along, so Marie and Michael decide to call the midwife. Shortly after they found out about the baby, they agreed that hiring a private midwife to deliver the baby here at home, would be the best choice for them, they didn’t want to risk anybody in the hospital recognizing them, even though they have both turned a corner and look much younger than they have in years, it is possible that someone who knew them in their youth, will be at the hospital and recognize them.

Nothing much changes when the midwife arrives, she asks a few questions about the labor so far, and then stays back and out of the way, while Michael continues to support Marie.

After 8 total hours of labor, at 9:23 a.m. on the 20th of October, the year of The Lynx, the baby is born. Their cries pierce the silence of the room, and Marie and Michael both find themselves tearing up with joy.

“It’s a girl!” The midwife announces, placing a blanket on Marie’s chest before placing the baby on the blanket. Marie’s arms instantly come up to encircle her daughter and bring her closer to her. 

“Hi baby.” Marie quietly says, kissing Mia’s forehead as she squirms and wriggles around. 

Michael puts his arms around Marie and Mia, at loss for words. Mia is so perfect, and even at moments old, is a perfect mixture of them both, with a thatch of brown hair that could come from either of them, and big grey eyes like Marie. 

“She... she’s perfect.” Michael quietly says, gazing down at his daughter in awe, as little Mia wraps her tiny hand around his finger. He still can’t believe he is a father and that he has a daughter, just like he and Marie always talked about.

Marie nods her agreement, as little Mia settles and her cries ebb off. 

“She looks like you, Michael.” Marie quietly says, her voice hoarse from exhaustion, stroking Mia’s soft little cheek. 

“No, she looks like you, my hair is darker than that, and she has your eyes and nose.” Michael insists. Marie laughs softly and says 

“We’re both biased, I want her to look like you, you want her to look like me, she probably doesn’t like us at all.” 

“Don’t worry, Rowan or Munira won’t hesitate to be honest about who she looks like, when they see her.” Michael says in an amused tone. If there’s anyone you can trust to be honest, it’s Munira and Rowan.

That night, at around 4:00 A.M., Michael and Marie are awoken to Mia’s sharp, loud wails. 

“I’ll get her, you rest.” Michael quietly says, laying a hand on Marie’s arm as she begins to sit up in bed. 

“Are you sure?” She asks, her voice thick with sleep. 

“Absolutely, you’ve done all the hard work the past 9 months, now it’s my turn.” Michael softly kisses her forehead before crossing the room to Mia’s bassinet, where she lies, her face red and scrunched up, her mouth open in a wail. He scoops her up into his arms and pads out into the living room, so her crying won’t keep Marie awake.

Half an hour later, once Mia has had her bottle, her cries have stopped and she has calmed down, but she is still awake. Even at only a few hours old, she is clearly a curious little thing, her wide grey eyes open and taking in everything around her. 

Michael is standing by the window with Mia in his arms, looking out onto the beach, where he will take Mia on walks, where she’ll learn to swim, and play with her Aunts Citra and Munira and her Uncle Rowan. 

After a few minutes, he looks down at Mia in his arms, his heart swelling with love for this tiny, sweet little girl, someone he and Marie made together, out of their love for each other. He never realized how amazing having a child can be, getting to see glimpses of himself and Marie in his daughter is like nothing he’s never experienced in his 200 odd years of life. 

“You’re a night owl like your mom, aren’t you little one?” Michael quietly says, stroking Mia’s cheek. He has always been someone to go to bed early, but Marie has always been a night owl, staying up until 1 or 2 every night, and it seems Mia will be the same. 

Finding himself growing weary and tired, Michael settles onto the sofa and carefully lays Mia on his chest, her cheek resting against the soft fabric of his shirt. He places a hand on her back, holding her closely and tight, and soon they both drop off into a peaceful sleep.

When Marie wakes up a few hours later and finds the bed empty next to her, as well as Mia’s bassinet empty, she assumes Michael is already up with her. She could easily go back to sleep, Michael wouldn’t mind and he’s more than capable of handling Mia by himself for a few more hours, but she would much rather spend time with her husband and daughter, she can always sleep when Mia is asleep.

When Marie walks out into the living room, she stops in her tracks when she sees Michael, her usually neat, composed and put-together Michael, sitting on the sofa, his hair in disarray, his trousers stained with formula, his top creased and stained with baby spit-up, with Mia curled up on his chest, her little hand clutching his shirt and his hand resting on her back. It is possibly the sweetest thing she has ever seen. 

Marie quickly snaps a picture, and just as she puts her phone away, Mia starts to stir and fuss. Carefully Marie moves Michael’s hand from Mia’s back and lifts her into her arms, gently bouncing her. 

“It’s alright Mia, my love, I’ve got you. Let’s go get you some breakfast and let your daddy get some more sleep.” Marie quietly says. 

A few minutes later, while Marie bounces Mia in her arms, waiting for her bottle to heat up, she feels a pair of hands land on her shoulders. 

“Good morning.” Michael softly says, pressing a kiss to her cheek and stroking Mia’s hair. “Should you be up, Marie? Are you feeling well enough?” He adds in a worried tone. Marie laughs softly and lays a hand on his cheek. 

“I’m more than fine, between a good nights sleep and my nanites I feel wonderful, did you sleep on the sofa with Mia, all night?” She asks, just realizing that Michael must not have come back to bed at all last night, after he got up with Mia at 4. 

“I did, but I didn’t mind, she settled when I put her on my chest and I didn’t want to wake you by going back into the room, your rest is more important than mine, and Mia can sleep anywhere it seems.” Michael softly says, as Marie takes the bottle from the microwave and makes her way back to the sofa.

“You didn’t have to, I wouldn’t have been bothered if I woke up again, since we agreed to have a baby I’ve known that once the baby is here, we’ll be up multiple times through the night, it’s part of parenthood.” Marie explains, as Mia happily guzzles her milk. 

“I know but it was important for you rest as much as possible last night, so you can heal as fast as possible, you went through a lot to bring Mia into the world, not just yesterday but over the last nine months, I just want you to be as healthy and happy as possible.” Michael quietly says.He doesn’t mind being the one to get up at night with Mia, as he said last night, Marie did all the hard work over the last nine months, now it’s his turn.

“I did, but it was more than worth it to get our Mia, and like I said I feel more than fine, you know people heal from childbirth much faster now, than they did in the mortal days. It’s not like it was back then when people were recovering for months and months.” Marie says, holding Mia against her shoulder and patting her little back.

“That’s true, I’ll try to stop fretting and worrying so much. We should let Citra, Rowan and Munira know that Mia is here, Citra and Rowan will probably want to come visit, and Munira is ready to book her flights.” Michael says with a grin. Over the last few months, Munira has grown use to the idea of he and Marie having a child, and has come to really like the idea of being an aunt to the baby, apparently she’s already bought her countless books, even though Mia can’t even see in color yet. 

“We should, Citra tells me she’s already bought countless gifts for Mia, I don’t know where we’ll fit it all.” Marie laughs lightly, looking around her at the small house, which only has two bedrooms, 2 bathrooms and an open plan living room and kitchen. It’s nothing compared to Falling Water, but it’s absolutely perfect for her life now, her family.

Several hours later, while Marie rests in the bedroom, Michael receives a message from Munira, asking how he and Marie are, and if the baby has arrived yet. He texts back, asking her to video call him, wanting to surprise her with Mia, since no one but he and Marie know she’s here.

A few minutes after asking her to video call him, Michael answers Munira’s call. She is clearly sitting at a table or desk, her dark hair is swept up into a messy ponytail with strands hanging down around her face, and her glasses making her inquisitive brown eyes appear even bigger and more inquisitive. 

“What’s going on Michael? You never want to video chat.” Munira asks by way of greeting, already suspicious of her friend’s behavior. Not only did he request a video chat when normally he detests them, he is also totally unkempt, she hasn’t seem in almost a year, but she knows Michael and knows that he is always a very neat, and well put together man, but now his hair is disheveled, he has let his goatee grow out a bit, and his top is creased and stained. 

“Hello Munira, good to see you Munira, I’m fine thank you for asking.” Michael teases. Munira rolls her eyes, but can’t help grinning. 

“Yes yes, now tell me why you are acting so suspicious.” She says. 

“Well I’ve been keeping a little secret, a very little secret in fact.” Michael grins and lifts Mia up, resting his cheek against hers, holding her so that Munira can clearly see her. “Munira, I’d like to introduce you to my daughter, Mia Willow Wilson.” 

[robertdowneyjjr]

RDJ on Off Camera #200: Highlights

excerpts from the interview under the read more

(you can buy the digital magazine with the full transcript here)

On his start as an actor, and getting to a point where he has more confidence in what he does:

[...] what’s important right now is that you know I am mirroring your physicality [points to Sam’s posture in chair], which by the way, I don’t know if I did it consciously or not. Son of a bitch...now I lost my rhythm. A lot of life for me is monkey see monkey do. Whether it’s development, or if you’re in a situation that’s very stressful. Like right now, I think if you took either of our biometrics, we would be in a really sweet zone because we have a love for each other. We’ve also created an ease by doing creative stuff together. We always like the result, but more so, we like the process. Whenever you engage with a new group of people in a process, it’s like you’re going to a new school.

And whatever part of my personality was set, it was fractured enough to be useful in a creative medium, but there’s also a work ethic born out of desperation that I would not wish on an enemy. It was just something that I was outfitted with. No matter how you slice it, as I was learning, going along, making mistakes, and noticing how Michael Apted or John Hughes operate, I would go, “Oh, I like that. That looks like it would feel good to be able to do it like that.”

On making the first Iron Man:

[...] I remember for the screen test, I was playing it a little straighter. There weren’t a bunch of funny lines. I was probably like half out- of-my-body hoping I got the part. And then, in executing the film, we found this tone that was really somewhere between mine, Jon’s, and Kevin [Feige]’s sensibilities. Gwyneth Paltrow would come in and go, “Oh, testosterone fest! Can we talk about what’s true north? What the reality of these relationships are?” And Jon would be like, “That’s right. Everybody stop and listen to her.” There was this great sense of each of us being corralled by passing the talking stick and deferring to each other like any good community. The amalgamation of all those little moments of thoughtfulness and open-mindedness are suddenly what this character is remembered for. I look back on it, and I go, “I don’t know how I did that. I don’t think I was in a good mood that day. I think I was really tired. I think my hair looked ridiculous.” And yet, the great thing about cinema, is you forget all of that as the viewer.

On rebuilding, Chaplin, and mentors:

[...] Which makes me think about the coolest letter I ever got. I won’t say where I was...prison. But I got it from Jodie Foster. This was years after Chaplin had come out, and she wrote me a letter about how relevant Chaplin’s life was. The precision, the dedication, what he had to do to be who he was in the epoch that he was. He was such an innovator, a genius. You can’t not believe that Charlie Chaplin was a genius. Some people would even say that he created pathos in cinema. That’s kind of a big deal. But Jodie wrote me this letter basically reminding me that, like Chaplin, I had already gone through the motions of understanding what kind of personality would preserve in a hostile environment. It was a new version of red scares, the public turning against you, and personal proclivities becoming public and almost damning you.

[...] And by the way, I was looking at an old mugshot of mine recently, and there was a bit of sadness in my eyes. There’s nothing like getting sent up the river, but I was okay. You know, like Figueroa Slim would say, “They got me. They got me, because I was there to be got, and I wasn’t doing the right thing.” And this is life. This can happen in relationships. This can happen at a stop sign with a stranger in a car across from you. You never know.

[...] Some people do things that you think are abhorrent and very difficult to explain. Those outliers are the first people who won’t make it very far if they wind up in a correctional facility, and people find out what they did to get there. But in the larger sense of things, it’s just...that was my life. There was a genetic predisposition. A signal wire got tripped, and once you’ve burned neuropathways repeatedly, it’s no longer a behavior. But I also know this, which gives me great comfort—if you’re fucked up or come from a fucked up family, if you get through it, you’re going to have a better chance of pushing our society forward in some way. It’s just the way it is.

On Saturday Night Live and Anthony Michael Hall:

[...] I came through the Weird Science country academy because a bunch of us met up on that John Hughes film. I was like, “Oh wow, I had a part in that.” I was starting to get a little notice. And then, Michael Hall was doing bigger stuff and making creative decisions about what he wanted the next chapter of his career to be, and we became friends. In a way, he was my first Jon Favreau. He was someone who said to me, “I’m going to go do SNL. I’m going to get you an audition, and I bet you’re going to get yourself on the show too. They’ll be lucky to have us.”

[...] I learned so much in that year about what I wasn’t. I was not somebody who was going to come up with a catchphrase. I was not somebody who’s going to do impressions. I was somebody who was very ill-suited for rapid fire sketch comedy. I was not of that ilk of The Groundlings. I had never been part of an improv group. I was kind of like, “Wow, this seems really hard. A lot of work.” But to this day, I would still say that there’s not a more exciting 90 minutes you could have...whether you are any good or not. It’s just amazing.

[...] In the 90-minute moment, you get such validation not because you’re the standup guy, not because they’re not going to say later on that you were the worst cast member they ever had, which is another lie, but because it’s such a difficult thing to try to pull off. You get a lot of cred just for being able to participate in that real-time stress and excitement.

On life after Marvel:

[...] I had an incredible ten year run that was creatively satisfying. It was very hard work, and I dug very deep. At the same time, you always have to recognize that everything has a price and a downside. For me, it’s that I’ve had to up my game and my focus. Also, first and foremost, having a family. But I have not been forced to explore the new frontier of, “What is my creative and personal life after this?” For me, it’s always good to get ahead of where you’re about to be, because nothing really happens when it happens.

[...] it’s always in the transitions between one phase and the next where people fall apart. So, just as a matter of me wanting to be a fit father, husband, and citizen...you know, roughly in that order, you’ve got to put eyes down the road and say, “I’m being irresponsible if I don’t start figuring out what is after that.” So, part of it is that there’s a dependency.

[...] The first thing you learn in theater arts is aesthetic distance. I am not this play I’m doing. I’m not Will from Oklahoma. I’m not that cop in a detective story.  [...] So for me, it just translates to this: I’m not my work. I’m not what I did with that studio. I’m not that period of time that I spent playing this character.

[...] the good boy note is not that I want to do what’s expected of me, it’s that I listen to feedback, and while that’s not what guides my decision making process, I sometimes get a little daunted. People are like, “Well, now that he’s done with this Iron Man thing, we look forward to what he’s going to do next and see him get back to...” And I go, “Alright, wait a minute. Does the good boy revert back to something he was doing before that, because that’s what people...?” No, what do they really mean?

On Susan:

[...] You want to talk about validation, mentors, and people who have been with me at critical times. I mentioned some male directors. All of them together could not hold a candle to the power of partnership, when you find somebody and without meaning to you just get each other. And then, you cash in all your chips and say, “We’re going to do this difficult thing, which is called relationship building and being in the same industry.” All that stuff. But it’s the greatest mystery in life, you know. All creativity is about the right relationship.

[...] Between the two of us, there’s been this creative engine of dialogue and discussion. For me, just self-betterment, because she’s the only person in my entire life and career who I can nail it on a take, and I look over at the monitor, and she’s just like, “You had gum. Take your gum out,” or whatever. It’s not that she doesn’t give me validation. She doesn’t do what everyone else has done; she doesn’t think I need to be taken care of, validated, compensated for. I need to this and that.

[...] Here’s what I’ll say. This is it, dude. This is definitive. If anything, movies saved my life, because she saw me in Weird Science. And at the time, I had a space between my teeth, and she had a space between her teeth. We wound up both getting them filled in, because that’s what you did in the late ‘80s. Everybody had to get their gaps filled or nobody was going to like you. But she looked at me in Weird Science, and her first thought of me was, “Oh my god, he’s like me! He has a space between his teeth. It’s okay that I have a space between my teeth.”

[theliberaltony]

via Politics – FiveThirtyEight

Even if you knew in advance about the “blue shift” that would occur in states like Pennsylvania — and we did know in advance about it! — it’s been hard to make enough of a mental adjustment for it this week. Numbers flashing across a TV ticker have a certain magnetic power and certitude to them. It was easy to forget that Joe Biden would gain ground once mail votes were added to the tallies because such votes were overwhelmingly Democratic this year in Pennsylvania and most other states.

But just because of that blue shift — and the red shift that occurred in states where mail votes were counted first — that doesn’t mean the presidential race was all that close in the end. Joe Biden’s win was on the tighter side of the likely range of outcomes suggested by polls, but it was a thoroughly convincing one judged on its own merits.

So put aside your anxieties of the past few days and the premature media narratives that have been circulating since Tuesday night. Suppose, instead, that you’d been on one of those weekslong rafting trips in the Grand Canyon (sounds pleasant, doesn’t it?) and woke up to this map:

It’s not a landslide, by any means, but this is a map that almost any Democrat would have been thrilled about if you’d shown it to them a year ago. Biden looks to have reclaimed the three “blue wall” states — Pennsylvania, Michigan and Wisconsin (ABC News has announced that Biden is the “apparent winner” in Pennsylvania and Wisconsin1) — that were central to Hillary Clinton’s loss. He may also win Arizona (he would become the first Democrat to do so since 1996) and, in the opposite corner of the country, Georgia (the first Democratic winner there since 1992). Additionally, Biden easily won Nebraska’s 2nd Congressional District, which could be a thorn in the side of Republicans going forward. He also ran far ahead of Clinton in rural northern states such as Maine, Minnesota and New Hampshire.

Extrapolating out from current vote totals, I project Biden winning the popular vote by 4.3 percentage points and getting 81.8 million votes to President Trump’s 74.9 million, with a turnout of around 160 million. This is significant because no candidate has ever received 70 million votes in an election — former President Barack Obama came the closest in 2008, with 69.5 million votes — let alone 80 million. That may also be a slightly conservative projection, given the blue shift we’ve seen so far and the fact that late-counted votes such as provisional ballots often lean Democratic. I’d probably bet on Biden’s popular vote margin winding up at closer to 5 points than to 4, and 6 points isn’t entirely out of the question either.

The margin is also a bit more impressive in the context of our highly polarized political era, which has tended to produce close elections. If I’m right about the popular vote margin, Biden’s win would come via the second-largest popular vote margin since 2000, exceeding Obama’s 3.9-point margin against Mitt Romney in 2012 but lagging behind Obama’s 7.3-point win over John McCain in 2008.

Biden also defeated an elected incumbent, which is relatively rare. Since World War II, five elected incumbents who sought reelection have won it — Dwight Eisenhower, Richard Nixon, George W. Bush, Bill Clinton and Obama. Trump is now the third sitting president to lose his reelection bid in that time, along with Jimmy Carter and George H.W. Bush.

What about the polls? Didn’t they show a wider margin for Biden? Yes, they did — Biden led in the final national polls by around 8 points. So we’re probably going to wind up with a polling error of around 3 to 4 points, both nationally and at the state level. (Although that will reflect a combination of states like Georgia, where the polls were spot-on, and others like Wisconsin, where there were big misses.) This is, of course, a subject on which we’ll have more to say in the coming days. For now, it’s safe to say that pollsters will have some questions to answer, especially about how they missed in the same direction (underestimating Trump) in some of the same states two elections in a row.

At the same time, this election’s polling error may wind up being fairly normal by historical standards. Indeed, the final polls miss by around 3 points, on average, in presidential elections. The error this year may be somewhat wider than that, but we should wait for all the votes to be counted because margins may shift substantially in some states before results are certified.

In any case, Biden’s ability to survive a polling error of the size that sank Clinton was precisely the reason he was a fairly heavy favorite in our forecast. Biden won (or is likely to win) several states — Georgia, Wisconsin, Pennsylvania, Arizona2 — by margins that will probably be between 0 and 2 percentage points, in contrast to Clinton, who lost Wisconsin, Michigan, Pennsylvania and Florida by margins of 1 percentage point or less. Biden’s 89 percent chance of winning the Electoral College included the possibility of nail-biter wins in critical states — although, again, it’s hard to know if this race would be regarded as that much of a nail-biter if not for the timing of ballot counting and the blue shift.

The bigger problems — both for Democrats and for the polls — were in races for Congress.

There weren’t necessarily any huge upsets in the Senate; it’s just that Democrats lost most of the tossup races. Among races where winners have been projected so far, Democrat Sara Gideon is the only Senate candidate favored in our forecast to have lost, and she had only a 59 percent chance of beating Sen. Susan Collins, according to our final forecast. Gideon, however, is likely to eventually be joined by Cal Cunningham in North Carolina once that race is projected, who had a 68 percent chance, although the polling in that Senate race had tightened in the closing days of the campaign following a Cunningham sexting scandal. Republican Joni Ernst held off challenger Theresa Greenfield in Iowa, although Ernst was a narrow favorite in our forecast.

Democrats do retain a chance at a Senate majority, or more likely a 50-50 split in which Vice President-elect Kamala Harris would be the deciding vote. Democrats currently hold 48 seats,3 but there are two runoffs in Georgia on Jan. 5 that are sure to attract hundreds of millions of dollars worth of advertising. I’m a little too exhausted to prognosticate about the Georgia runoffs all that much, but Democrats are at least mathematically alive here in a state that Biden appears likely to win. They also retain some outside chances at winning a Senate seat in Alaska, where mail votes have not yet been counted.

But Democrats underperformed in the U.S. House, where they’ve lost almost every toss-up race that has been projected so far and Republicans have made a net gain of 5 seats and counting. It also appears as though Democrats will underperform in the House popular vote relative to the presidential vote and the generic ballot, where Democrats led by about 7 percentage points. That looks like a significant polling miss (although the House popular vote can take a long time to finalize). In that sense, the election could be described as more of a repudiation of Trump specifically than of Republicans writ large.

Biden did have some shortcomings, however. One major one was his apparent underperformance among key groups of Hispanic voters, especially Cuban Americans in South Florida and Mexican Americans in South Texas. As you can see in this chart from The New York Times, there were huge shifts toward Trump in these areas:

Indeed, even with the addition of Georgia and Arizona in their column, Democrats’ Electoral College coalition is somewhat fragile if it doesn’t contain Florida and/or Texas. It’s not clear yet what the tipping-point state will be in this election — but mostly likely it will be Arizona or Wisconsin, where it appears as though Biden will win by around 1 percentage point. That could mean there’s around a 4-point gap between the roughly 5-point popular vote victory that we eventually expect from Biden and his margin in the tipping-point state, a bigger Electoral College disadvantage than Clinton had in 2016 (3 points).

Still, this brings up one last point: This is the seventh election out of the past eight in which Democrats have won the popular vote for president. If American elections were contested on the basis of the popular vote, this race could probably have been called fairly early on Tuesday night, and we could all have gotten a lot more sleep the past few days. But don’t let bleary eyes obscure Biden’s accomplishment.

[cecilspeaks]

152 - The Great Golden Hand

Here it comes. Here it comes! The Great Golden Hand! Hurrah, rejoice! It nears, it nears!

Welcome to Night Vale.

Wonderful news, residents. City officials report that within the next few hours, we should expect the arrival of the Great Golden Hand. This will mark the first visit from the Great Golden Hand in nearly 80 years. Older residents and those who up until recently did not age will remember the last visit fondly. Those were the days, when the air felt crisper somehow, as though growing older does not cause a degradation of self, but rather a degradation of everything outside of self. We project our own decline upon the world and complain that everything was righter and better at the time that we coincidentally were at our physical and mental peak.

But I digress. Because everything was better during the Great Golden Hand, that’s just objective. We will update you on the Hand as it approaches. But in the meantime, make sure that you are stocked up on a supply of clean water, adequate canned goods for five to eight years, and copious amounts of human hair for the offering. If you do not have hair, please make sure to stop by the hair bank this morning to pick up hair generously donated by your neighbors, for those who crave human hair by the fistful.

But first, today’s forecast. Rain later, or no rain. Or sun, or snow, or none of those things. There will be some light clouds along the horizon, or it will be clear and you will stand out on a lawn gone prickly with the conservation of water. And you will see that you can see all the way across the world, even though you know that you can only see about three miles to to curvature of the Earth, but it’s metaphorical, this distance, and with the clarity of the sky, it will seem much further than that. Or there will be clouds, so none of that will happen and you will l only sit in your kitchen, eating leftovers and not thinking even a little about everything you’ve never done and you will never get to do. Or you won’t wake up today. There will come a day where you don’t, you know, and then none of this will matter. And the sky will be a perfect blue and you won’t see it. Or it will rain. Or no rain. Or sun. Or snow. Or none of those things. All of that later today, or tomorrow, or never. This has been today’s forecast.

We continue to track the Great Golden Hand, as it takes over much of the western horizon. Larry Leroy out on the edge town reported that flowers have begun growing and dying in bursts all morning. Cycles of life that passes quickly as air through his lungs. “These plants are speeding up,” he said, or else we are slowing down. Maybe thousands of years have passed and the only ones that know are the flowers.” [laughs] Larry, what a joker!

City government tells us we have nothing to fear from the Great Golden Hand, although city government is in a bit of disarray, as of course we do not have a mayor, and city council has announced that they forgot it was their sister’s wedding this weekend in Tulsa, and they need to leave town immediately. So city government currently consists of Claire Scott at the hall of public records. Claire is a woman-shaped apparition that haunts the dark hallways of the building and is responsible for at least ten deaths. It’s not an ideal situation leaving her in charge, but at least someone is there, as the Great Golden Hand draws ever closer.

Let’s take a quick look at the headlines. Controversy has erupted over a new McDonald’s commercial, as many say that the victims offered on the altar weren’t properly consecrated. Lenny Butler, who has no official (–) [0:05:47] on religion or ceremony, but who considers himself something of a sacrifice aficionado and self-taught expert, dismissed the commercial as, quote, “more hack co-opting by corporate culture.” He shook his head in disbelief as he showed reporters a copy of the commercial. “Look at this, he said. “Does that axe look like it has been buried for 100 days in a graveyard? I bet some underpaid PA bought that axe at an Ace Hardware the day of the shoot. And look at how the subsequent bone and blood slurry is just kind of spilling everywhere! There’s no thought at all to proper aesthetic flow to the sacrifice!” Lenny concluded. Executives at national McDonald’s headquarters expressed horror and disbelief when asked about the commercial, saying they had nothing to do with this and why are we making them watch this traumatizing footage. “Why?” the executives repeated over and over, in smaller and smaller voices. “Why?” Well, that’s it for the headlines.

And now traffic. There is a crack in the wall. There is a twinge in your heart. There is someone coming, but don’t worry, there is also someone going. There is a lamp in an alcove in a house on a mountain. There is a hand that reaches out and turns on the lamp. There is an eye that squints thru the dim light, trying to see what isn’t there. There is a name. Yes, there is a name, but we will never know what it is. There is a dusty foot scooting along rough wood. There is a tree outside, and it moans through the fierce wind off the peaks. There is a small flower in a pot and it is three days from dying. There is a lamp in an alcove in a house on a mountain and a hand that reaches out and turns it off. There is a car on a road to the mountain. There is a mind dreaming that this time, the reunion will go differently. There is a hand on a steering wheel and it trembles. There is a foot upon a gas pedal, and it wants to ease up, to turn around, to accelerate toward anything but a house on a mountain. There is an eyelash upon an eyelid, upon an eye, upon a skull, upon a lifetime of doubt. There is a tree across part of the road, and maybe that could be an excuse, but no. The hand upon the wheel turns, and finds the narrow way thru, and continues on, toward the house on a mountain. There is a crack in the wall. There is a twinge in your heart. There is someone coming. But don’t worry, there is also someone going. This has been traffic.

I’m being told by a multitude of disembodied mouths, that appeared in my office and began worbling in a singsongy chant, that the Great Golden Hand is only minutes away from covering the entire area. If you have not already sought shelter, now would be the time to regret screwing up so badly on such an important day. Remember to not look directly at the Great Golden Hand. The Great Golden Hand should not be mixed with alcohol or other medications without advice from your doctor. Unfortunately, the Great Golden Hand has taken all the doctors. Also all life insurance adjusters and all dog walkers. If you notice sparks, that is part of the process. If you feel a fission, that is also part of the process. If you see the color green, that is not part of the process and you should panic. The process will protect us. The Great Golden Hand will protect us. Long live the Hand.

Meanwhile, just a brief notice before we are overtaken by the Hand. It seesm that, oh this is interesting, that the family of Frank Chen has filed a missing persons report with the sheriff’s secret police. Now, you might remember that Frank Chen’s dead body was found several years ago, covered in claw marks and burns, and we all assumed he was dead. But then he was seen around town driving his pickup truck, and now he looked like a five-headed dragon. Sure, he looks completely different, but the dragon had a New Jersey driver’s license that indicated that he indeed was Frank Chen. And so that was the day it was proven to us that the dead can come back to life looking completely different. Anyway, the Chen family says that Frank was driving out from the east coast to see his brother, and disappeared somewhere between Oklahoma and Los Angeles. It took him several years to find Night Vale, although our recent change back to a normal timeline has at least put us a little more in sync with the rest of the country. The Chen family is unsure what a sheriff’s secret police is, nor what is so secret about them if they drive around in clearly labeled cars, but they would appreciate any help at all in finding their long lost Frank. Come to think of it, I haven’t seen rank since the day that Hiram McDaniels, the five- oh sorry, four-headed dragon, left Night Vale. Where did Frank go? If you have any information, tell a bird. Birds are real loudmouths and the info will be all over town in no time.

And now for the community calendar. This Friday, Martin McCaffrey is presenting an art show in the grain silo out back from the old Cooper farm. The silo will be kept in absolute darkness, and each (-) [0:12:40] will be shoved into the abandoned tower all along. They will not be able to see anything except the dancing light that lives in their eyelids. But they will know that they are with art, that art is indeed there, just beyond their fingertips in the darkness watching them. Suggested donation is five dollars, as in Martin suggests you donate that or you won’t be able to get in. Saturday morning, we’re getting towards the end of the summer softball league, and once again we have the annual grudge match between Steve Carlsberg’s Happy Hyenas, and Susan Willman’s Bad at Softball Losers. Not their real team name, but the name was kind of forgettable, and I think this one is more catchy. Ugh, Susan Willman! [mumbles] Tooling around in that Prius she bought after her Mini Cooper was filled with jellyfish and then towed. [cheerfully] See you on Saturday morning! Where we will, I assume, be cheering on my wonderful brother-in-law Steve. 

Sunday, Leopold Tuesdale has called for a community meeting. Leopold is the former CEO of the former cereal company Flaky-O’s, until both were acquired in a hostile takeover by Kellogg’s. Leopold was last seen being pulled into a van by Kellogg’s executives, but he has returned. His face is gaunt and it appears he has aged several decades, or perhaps a few very stressful years. He wears a cape and one big leather glove. The topic of the community meeting is the labyrinth that lays just beyond human sight, and the harbingers of that labyrinth, who drive vans full of wooden grates. He also want to discuss parking for the antiques fair, which he feels has gotten out of hand on Grub Street. Monday is a fun dinosaur presentation from local dinosaur expert Joel Eisenberg. This is part of the Applebee’s visiting experts program that invites local scholars to share their knowledge, and also prices jalapeno poppers at in irresistible 3,99 for 12. Wow! With a deal like that, I can’t wait to learn more about those big spitty lizards, or whatever they were.

Tuesday – is the day you’ve been waiting for. Yes, you could have achieved your dreams earlier, but it always seemed easier to plan to do them some day. Well, Tuesday is that day, and now it’s time to finally buckle down and get those dreams going. I wouldn’t delay, because it seems that Wednesday is the day – you die. So stay positive, and get it done quickly. And finally, next Thursday the Night Vale municipal fire authority is holding a mandatory fire drill. When you hear the siren, burn as many things as you can.

This has been the community calend- oh! Oh, I see it! I see it, it is here! Aaaaaaah, it is above me! The [booming sound] the [booming sound]

[“Drones” by Epicenter https://epicentermetal.bandcamp.com]

Part 1. In which the rabbits get their way. Before there were buildings, there were hills. In the hills, there were rabbits. All they wanted from life was food, a bit of sunshine, and to multiply across the land. And so they did. Most stories are happy if you end them at the right time.

Part 2. In which we approach. Aah, to see us then, when we were moving – toward the west, or else toward the east, or else south or north, but it wasn’t the direction. It was the momentum of it. We put ourselves out there, made ourselves available for new opportunities. Never mind the drawbacks, and never mind who gets hurt. That’s a problem for who comes next. We are here, so we can get there. And there’s just nothing else to worry about, but the getting.

Part 3. In which comes the kingdom. Great towers and great halls. A crowd looking upwards and a king looking downwards. What a time to be alive! What a terrible time to be dead! How much the dead are missing out on. Death is stupid, and we must only celebrate life. Those who are gone are gone, and it’s probably their fault anyway. We are alive because of our wits, and because we are naturally inclined to be alive. “How good we are,” we murmur, “and how beautiful our king is.”

Part 4. In which all is thought lost. But then – time came for us too. We weren’t who we used to be, but we also weren’t who we would be next either. There was this awful in-between, and we had to stay in it for so long. A king grew tired on his throne. We all grew so tired.

Part the last. In which we are each born anew. After – there were the buildings. There were the hills. In the hills lived rabbits. And we lived there too. All we wanted was food, a bit of sunshine, and to multiply across the land, and so we did. Most stories are happy if you wait long enough. The [booming sound effect] gives, the [booming sound effect] takes.

Stay tuned next for a slow drifting toward what we’ve always wanted, interrupted by the constant distraction of what seems easiest, and from one discipline of the [booming sound] to another: Good night, Night Vale, Good night.

Today’s proverb: The universe contains, among other things, black holes, vast clouds of gas and light, endless void, a diamond planet, and your tiny body.

[bobbyonboard]

3,8,38 with Brian May? anything angsty to fluff pleaseeeeee ✨🥰 loving your work, sweetheart!

hi this is literally ten thousand years late so thank you for your patience nonny and thank you for the compliment!!! warnings for blood mentions and cursing?

why can’t I write something short

3. I can take care of myself just fine.

8. What did you do?

38. How do you even have that much blood?

It was getting late, later than what Brian had promised when he left early that morning for the studio. The first half hour you’d expected. The first hour, you were annoyed, but understood. The second hour had you pissed, and the third hour had you furious.

You were starving, having waited to start on dinner until your husband joined you, but it was nearing ten and you weren’t about to wait any longer. Hangry was the understatement of the century.

Storming over to the phone, you punched in the number to the studio phone, pacing in front of it’s place on the wall as he rang and rang, only to be picked up on the sixth ring by a high-pitched giggle.

“Hello?,” a woman slurred, giggling and shushing the voices in the background that were laughing and shouting.

“Hi, this is Y/N May, who’s this?,” you asked, a hint of annoyance in your tone. You knew all the assistants at the studio, and you’d never heard this one before. It wasn’t Dominique, it wasn’t Veronica.

“Ummmmmmm,” she trailed off, as if remembering her own name was a great feat at the moment. “Susan. Who are you calling for?”.

The question had your blood boiling, and you angrily tapped your nails on the wall from where you had finally stopped pacing.

“Well, I said my last name was May, so a safe bet would be Brian,” you sneered, and if this had been any other day, you would have been horrified at your tone. But you were pissed off, hungry, and hearing a giggling woman answer the phone did not help matters in the slightest.

“Briaaaaaaaaannnnnn!!!!!,” she squealed, right into your ear, no less. “Telephone!”

“Thank you, Susan,” you heard your husband’s voice, and you could tell while he wasn’t drunk, he’d had a few drinks. “Hello?”.

“Right, seven, was it? Working hard?,” you huffed into the phone, closing your eyes and taking a deep breath, trying to calm yourself down.

“Ah–fuck, Y/N,” he sighed, and you could almost see him, probably pinching his nose, eyes closed. “Sorry, finished a little early, so we decided to have a few drinks and–,” he cut himself off, knowing better than to try and explain his way out of this one.

You just let out a bitter laugh, shaking your head.

“Right, you have fun with Susan,” you practically hissed. “Maybe you two can get dinner.”

Click.

You slammed the receiver down on the hook, wondering how on earth it was still attached to the wall. Stupid Susan and her stupid voice with her stupid laugh.

A shitty evening wasn’t going to affect the nice dinner you had planned, however. You’d been looking forward to it all day, and you pulled out the ingredients, starting on chopping up the vegetables.

Not even fifteen minutes later, you heard the front door opening, and you rolled your eyes.

A mess of curls peeked from around the corner, and you made no move to greet Brian as he eventually entered the kitchen.

“Right, I’m in for it, yeah?,” he sighed, leaning against the counter beside you and trying his best to give a sincere, apologetic look.

“Brian,” you huffed, rearing up to start in on the long speech you’d been writing in your head ever since Susan picked up the phone. “I don’t care how long you stay out. I don’t care if you spend all night drinking with the boys and Susan, but if you could just have enough common decency to ring me and say, ‘Oi, I’m going to be home late, make your own bloody dinner’. That’s all I’m asking.”

The carrots you’d been chopping up were getting finer and finer, your knife moving faster and faster.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Y/N, Susan is some friend of Freddie’s, there was a bunch of them that stopped by, and we all just had a few beers over finishing up another song. It just slipped my mind, that’s all!,” Brian practically groaned, and that caused your temper to flare once more.

“Slipped your mind!,” you exclaimed, starting on a new carrot, fingers flying. “You know what, Brian Harold May? I have had enough of–SHIT!”

Brian’s eyes flew open, looking over at you. “What is it, Y/N? What did you do?”

You looked down in horror at the blood starting to pool on the cutting board, and you immediately put you hand up, running over to the sink.

“Shit shit shit, fuck, shit, fucking shit,” you gasped, sticking your hand under the water and crying out at the pain.

Brian was beside you in a second with clean hand towels, immediately wrapping up your finger. You watched as the white towel turned crimson quickly, and your knees were beginning to feel a little weak.

“Christ, Y/N, how do you even have that much blood?,” Brian asked nervously, wrapping a new towel around the bleeding appendage, holding your arm up above your head. “Let’s get you in a chair.”

“I can take care of myself just fine,” you mumbled, trying to keep up your attitude from earlier, but you knew Brian was right the second you tried to take a step and your legs started to wobble under you.

“Of course you can, love, let’s just–,” he stopped, helping her over to a chair, holding her hand up higher. “I think we should head over to the A&E,” he said softly, and you groaned at the thought.

“I hate it when you’re right.”

Two hours, four stitches, and one trip to the A&E later, you and Brian were sitting on your couch, eating hamburgers from where you’d stopped on the way home and gotten something, your nice dinner on hold for now.

“I’m sorry I didn’t call,” Brian murmured, his head resting on your shoulder, his fingers lightly brushing over the thick bandage on your hand. “I should have. I should have come home and we could have had a nice dinner,” he sighed, looking up at you through his lashes.

“It’s alright, love. I’m sorry I shouted,” you hummed in return, leaning down against him and pressing a kiss to his curls. “I’m sure Susan’s lovely,” you smirked, and he rolled his eyes playfully.

“Not as lovely as you,” he purred up at you, you mimicked his eye roll from earlier.

“Nice try, Mr. May,” you teased, puckering your lips for a kiss.

“I mean it, Mrs. May. I’ll always mean it,” he sighed, a lovesick grin on his face as he happily complied with your request.

*send me requests!*

[deedeemuses]

Bio: Clarissa Rivers

Name: Clarissa Jane Rivers

Family: Beau Rivers (father), Theresa Skevington (mother), Veronica, William and .Esther (siblings).

Other Household Members (servants): Louisa Townsend (governess), Eleanor Browne (nanny), Albert Elford (butler), Herbert Wynn (housekeeper), Martha Carteret (cook), Neville Leeworth (footman), Mary Brydges, Anette Steere, Susan “Suzy” Fenton, Frederica “Freddy” Wilbram (maids).

Location: Brunswick, Hove, East Sussex. Later, Nottinghamshire.

The Rivers Household Background

Beau Rivers, the sole heir of Rivers family, had inherited quite the sum on money and estates. Being a landlord was in fact a good way to earn much but Beau was an ambitious man who just couldn’t live counting money. He needed to work more, make network and show everyone he could further establish the Rivers name. With that goal and mindset, Beau jumped head first into merchants’ life. And he was good at it too, soon getting the attention from even better off people. One of them was James Skevington, a notable merchant working in Middle East. He had five sons but of course, he gave a good dowry when Beau married his only daughter Theresa.

On March 7th, 1775, the Rivers family had twin daughters Veronica and Clarissa. For 18th century, having two kids at once could be a hassle. They needed to be taken care of, their clothes and food and many more! However, if you were coming from a family like Beau Rivers, a well off Merchant from East Sussex, you were more than fine.

Beau Rivers had married Theresa Skevington just over 4 years ago when they finally got the news that Mrs. Rivers were expecting. It was a long journey there with doctors (and behind Beau’s back some mediums) being visited and having tried many home remedies. Beau weren’t upset to have daughters – not even one but two of them – but it was clear from the beginning of their marriage that he wanted a male heir to inherit everything he owned, and possibly more as he added to his wealth. With that, the lady of the River household wanted nothing more but more kids. After all, it wasn’t going to be a problem to raise them. They had a nanny, a governess ever since the girls turned five, and eight other servants to help them around. And she got her wish too, twice in fact. A beautiful boy named William was born in 1886 and another girl, Esther, in 1797.

Though things didn’t go as much as planned entirely. In early 1795, Beau Rivers’ route was filled with thieves, ready to steal the goods that any Merchant who passed that road was importing. And that one day, Beau Rivers had been the victim, losing so much that it would take him a few years to fix that gap. The unlucky businessman somewhat learned his lesson of not taking precautions and security, however, his luck hasn’t turned just yet. Trusting somebody he shouldn’t, he bet almost all his remaining money on a business in order to save his losings quickly. But that business failed in a short time, leaving the Rivers household suddenly the poorest one in Brunswick Terrace.

Following that unspeakably miserable year, Theresa gave birth to their last child Esther, making things even worse. Trying not to give away just how much they lost, Beau refused to let go of their servants at first. But one by one, they all had to leave. For Clarissa, the day her governess Louisa Townsend and their trusty butler Albert Elford left was one of the worst days of her life.

But life went on. The family had to survive. But East Sussex was no longer a place they could reside in. Once a wealthy household name, the Rivers, who were one of the first residents of Brunswick Terrace, could not even afford to live Waterloo Street where second class families lived. So they packed whatever they have left and moved.

There wasn’t much to pack anyway. Having sold all their jewelry and pretty clothes for half the amount they once payed for, they had almost nothing but the clothes on their backs. With the last of their money, Beau Rivers bought two cows from a farm, living off of the milk they gave. Though there is a reason why he chose Nottinghamshire. It is known for it’s coal mining, and that one of other people who bet their money on that failed business is here. And he’s determined to find him.

Clarissa’s Life in Brunswick and Nottinghamshire

Clarissa was born into a rich life as a first class citizen. She knew nothing of poverty or not being able to afford goods she lied eyes upon. She was dressed in the best clothes and the best quality pettycoats, wore the shiniest jewelry when she went out to the Brunswick Square.

One could argue that Clarissa didn’t have her nose in the air as much as others who had a similar upbringing as she did but it was undeniable that she was brought up in a sense of wealth and being better than those who were, say, living in Waterloo Street right behind Brunswick Terrace. But if you at least compared her to her twin sister Veronica, she came of way kinder.

Clarissa liked being in that environment however. She liked the afternoon tea and she liked the balls and dances she was invited to. She enjoyed being asked to dance by handsome and successful men. She even loved the debutante ball when she was 19. Being presented in court - to the King and the Queen, no less – was incredible. Well, of course all the calls she received from those who wanted her hand in marriage too. And they were right to want her. She came from a good upper-class family who had connections, she was well groomed and had many talents. The rumor had it that she played the piano incredible and only those who actually got to listen to her could tell that the rumors held nothing against the reality of it. She was simply  out of this world when her fingers touched the keys.

But not much of it mattered to Clarissa. She would sometimes even get antsy and unladylike. Her mother, bless her heart, would scold her for not behaving. But how could she when her suitors didn’t realize while she enjoyed the attention, her heart belong to somebody else. Well, at least that’s what she believed at that time.

Oswald Hollingsworth was one of those handsome successful men that had shown interest in Clarissa. The way he looked at her flattered her heart, making butterflies go wild in her stomach. He courted her out a few times too but things were going slower than the young Clarissa would want. She was already 20 but Oswald showed no sign of marriage in the horizon. Though she never knew she’d see even worse days. After her father’s unthinkable fall – not just from wealth but all the socialite status they had – Oswald left Clarissa high and dry. Crying for days and nights, she finally realized that the romance written in the books were a lie. Everything was about money – her life, her status, the respect people showed and lastly her love. It was the second time she felt just as lonely since Ms. Townsend was let go of from the mansion, shortly before they moved out.

It wasn’t easy getting used to Nottinghamshire. It was different in every sense. The weather, the land, the people... It was a reminder of everything she took for granted. Even the ocean, right beneath her feet was long göne. Now away from the luxurious life they had, she was the one left to wash the clothes. Her delicate fingers that once played the piano was now dancing on the linen fabric as she rubbed away the dirt. Her shiny jewels gone and sold, the closest replacement was the coal that the new city had to offer. And love? She had given up on it a while ago. Her dreams of becoming a lady of her own household, having kids were washed out and the only kid she was responsible of looking after was her baby sister Esther.

She spoke less and thought more. Laughed less and frowned more. Read less and worked more. Clarissa was swept away from her old life so quickly, so suddenly that almost two years later now, she could barely remember the balls and dances she was once invited to.

The change wasn’t just her status and environment though. Clarissa grew much more impatient and intolerant. She is easy to rile up and gets frustrated by the smallest things. Her days are spent looking after Esther and William, doing house chores and milking the cows. Oh and of course, taking care of her ill mother, who couldn’t handle their downfall and listening to Veronica whine on a daily basis.

[love-always-jordan]

A Ben hardy imagine (not as roger please) when him and the girl meet for the first time/are set up etc basically anything that is pre relationship!

Oh I love this! I’m obsessed with pre relationship things bc those little details seem insignificant at the time but they’re so fun to look back on.

It feels long to me idk hope you enjoy!!

You walked onto set, a little nervous because it was the first day on the job. You were interning for the costume designer on Bohemian Rhapsody, which from what she told you before hand would mostly be grabbing coffees and handing her supplies. Maybe a stitch or two here and there but mostly observing. You felt really lucky to have this internship. You’d only met Susan because she came to speak in one of your classes. 

When you got to the guard, you saw Susan was waiting for you with your pass. You shared good mornings with each other and you handed her a coffee that you’d picked up on your way to set.

“Nervous to start?” She could probably see it in your face.

“I mean, I don’t know. Once I get the hang of things I’ll be fine, I’m sure.” You shrugged as the two of you walked over to the costume department.

Susan had you running around all morning. She had you go to the craft store because she needed more pins and she ran out of red thread. You hadn’t had a second to breathe until lunch when you picked up some Chinese take out for the two of you. When you walked in Joe Mazzello was getting his pants fixed.

“Oh, hi. I’m Joe. I ripped the seam in my pants.” You waved and he smiled at you.

“Y/n’s pretty quiet,” Susan nodded towards you. “She’s been with me for a couple months and I’m still trying to get her out of that shell.”

“Oh I bet the boys and I can break her.” Joe laughed and there was a knock on the door.

“Smells good in here,” said the guy, who you recognized to be Ben Hardy, walking in.

“Chinese,” was all I said from the bench with a mouth full of noodles.

“She speaks!” Joe laughed. “Ben, that’s Jordan. We’re supposed to get her to open up.”

“The only thing I’m opening today are these take out boxed.” You reached for another box and held it out to Ben and Joe. “Egg roll?”

They both took one and thanked you.

“This whole time did I just need to feed you to get you to talk?” Susan shook her head and cut the remainder of the thread of Joe’s pants.

“We’ll yeah. I’m shy but I’m also very food motivated so if you wanna be my friend just feed me and I’ll stick around for a while.” You bit into an egg roll.

“Well I like to eat to so I think we’ll get along just fine.” Ben sat down next to you on the bench and welcomed himself to another egg roll.

Days turned into weeks and before you knew it you’d been working on set for just over a month. You became good friends with the guys and could usually be found eating lunch with at least one of them. Mostly it felt like having extra older brothers around to make fun of you all the time, but there was something different with the way you were around Ben. 

The other boys could see it clear as day. Joe would always joke that you had “Heart eyes for Hardy” whenever Ben wasn’t around. Ben, however, was clueless to your feelings for him. And you were clueless to his.

One night after they wrapped for the day the boys invited you to go out with them. You weren’t really sure about it because that wasn’t really your scene. You were always one who would rather have a wild night in with your friends than go out and about.

“Come on, y/n! It’ll be fun. We’ll all have a drink or two and just relax. Come on please?” Joe kept begging you.

“I dunno.”

“I’ll buy your drinks if you come with,” Rami offered.

“Okay deal. Should I change?” You looked down at your work clothes. 

They really weren’t horrible if you were being honest. You were wearing skinny jeans and a cropped sweater. Your tennis shoes weren’t the cutest but you had converse in your car.

“No, you look great.” Gwilym reassured you. “Doesn’t she look great, Ben.”

Ben had been staring at you. “What- oh yeah. You look great.” He looked down at his hands.

You blushed and jumped up saying you had to run to your car before you went anywhere.

The boys ordered an Uber and you all piled in. It was a tight squeeze with five of you but you made it work, Joe and Gwilym making sure that you and Ben were squished next to each other. 

When you got to the bar, Rami ordered everybody a round and you found a table in the corner. The bar was rather busy which made it kind of hard to hear anyone talk. You found yourself leaning into Ben as he asked you a question.

“Do you think that girl over there is going to talk to Gwilym or just keep staring at him?” He nodded slightly to the woman sitting behind you with her friends.

You laughed and leaned back into him. “Bet she finishes her drink and then comes over.”

Ben smiled the kind of smile that made his eyes crinkle. It made your heart flutter. 

“Anyone up for a round of darts?” Gwilym questioned the table once Rami returned with the drinks.

“Sorry, but I’ve only played once and I didn’t care enough and everyone got mad at me. I think I’ll pass on that one.” You took a drink and Ben got up, brushing a hand against your back as he moved.

“I’ll play.” They wandered off. 

You held your cup and swayed in your seat to the song playing while you watched the two of them play darts.

You felt a hand on your shoulder and turned around. A guy who had been across the bar earlier was leaning in close.

“You are stunning,” he said, putting his arm around you. You squirmed a bit, clearly uncomfortable. “Let me buy you another drink.”

“Oh, um actually I’m okay.” You didn’t know what to do.

“Hey, y/n. Come here I wanna show you something.” Ben called to you from his game.

You excused yourself politely and jumped out of your seat. You walked over to Ben and leaned your forehead on his shoulder and sighed. 

“Thank you.” You looked up at him.

“Any time.” He kissed your forehead lightly. 

You leaned against a table and watched them finish their game. Ben began losing fairly quickly, which, according to Gwilym, was because he was too distracted by you.

In the end, Gwilym won the game, prompting Ben to buy the next round of drinks. You stayed at the bar until around midnight when you decided to call it a night. The guys all wanted you to stay but you were feeling exhausted.

“I’m just going to order an Uber and head back home. I need to go to bed at a decent time for once.” You pulled out your phone.

“Y/n, you’re not going alone. We will not allow it.” Joe’s voice was clearly laced with a bit of alcohol.

“You guys stay,” Ben spoke up next to you. “I’ll go with her and meet up with you guys tomorrow.”

You felt your face go red as the other guys exchanged looks. They agreed to it and you and Ben went out to wait for the Uber.

“You know, you’re a lot of fun to be around.” Ben finally said after a few beats of comfortable silence outside.

“Thanks, you are too, Benny.” You added emphasis on the last word to tease him.

“You’re also a bit of a dork.” He laughed quietly. 

“Oh, you think so? Well you’re a huge dork, Ben. And people don’t expect it from you because you’re this gorgeous guy, but you, Ben Hardy, are the biggest dork of them all.”

Ben turned to you and closed some of the space, the alcohol making him cocky.

“Gorgeous, huh?” He questioned.

“Well, I mean, shut up.” You looked to your feet.

“Hey, look at me.” You looked up again. Ben exhaled slowly. “You have the most beautiful eyes.”

Before you could say a word he leaned in and kissed you softly on the lips.  

“What are you doing tomorrow night?” He asked when you broke the kiss.

“I don’t know. You tell me?”

“Can I take you to dinner? Like on a date maybe?”

“I’d love that.” You took his hand as the Uber pulled up.

When the vehicle pulled up to your apartment, you and Ben both got out so he could walk you to your door. 

“I’ll call you tomorrow. Goodnight, y/n.” He kissed your cheek.

“Goodnight, Ben.”

[dr-gloom]

idk(how :)) if you're still taking the heart-breaking prompts list thing, but if you still are, maybe 23 and logicality?

23. “I was doing fine. Really, and then you waltz back in like you didn’t break my heart.”

woot okay 

should I start naming these?

Death of a Bachelor

Fandom: Sanders’ Sides

Pairing: Logicality

Warnings/Tags: lots of angst, past relationship, TV shows, it’s a little ridiculous, happy ending, some swearing

Logan had just come here for a nice cup of coffee, a peaceful atmosphere, and free WiFi. He hadn’t expected to see anyone he knew. 

Especially not him.

Logan had just sat down when the bell above the door chimed. He wasn’t really curious, but it seemed almost like human reflex to look over when a door opens. And that’s when he saw him.

His smile was just as bright as the day they’d met, and just as carefree. Logan hated how that smile made him feel. He hated that lighter-than-air feeling in his chest, and how his heart beat just a little faster. He hated that he still felt like this, after all this time. 

He couldn’t tear his eyes away as he watched Patton practically skip up to the counter and tell the barista a joke as he orders his drink. Logan quickly turns back to his laptop, ducking his head. He prays Patton doesn’t notice him, or if he does he doesn’t approach. 

“Logan!”

Shit. 

Patton is suddenly at Logan’s side, bouncing on the balls of his feet excitedly. Logan wished he’d forgotten that the other did that. “Hi, Patton.”

“It’s been so long! Oh my gosh! How are you doing?”

Logan sighs. “I’ve been fine, Patton.”

“Can I sit with you? It seems like there aren’t any free tables!” 

Logan looks around. Sure enough, every table is taken. Logan restrains another sigh. “Of course, Patton.”

Patton smiles and sits across from Logan, almost instantly beginning a conversation. Logan doesn’t really pay attention to what he’s saying, trying his best to tune the other out and get some work done. Occasionally he can’t help but tune in to a sentence or two, though it doesn’t seem like Patton is really saying anything of substance. He always was one for idle chatter.

“And I told her that I was really sorry, but….”

“So I had to leave! I don’t think they were very happy with me…”

“Anyways, that’s what happened, and I’ve just been waiting for…”

“But I guess people get busy! It’s okay.”

Logan sighs and sets his coffee aside. “Patton, would you care to join me somewhere more…private?”

Patton’s face brightened, though there was an undercurrent of nervousness that Logan couldn’t make sense of. He stood and packed his laptop into his satchel, then led Patton out of the coffee shop. For once, Patton didn’t try to make small talk while they walked, and Logan was left to his thoughts. 

He’d met Patton nearly a year ago. His friend Roman had convinced him to try out for The Bachelorette (despite being gay; Roman thought it’d be funny to see his gay friend on TV trying to woo a woman), and he’d actually made it onto the show. Patton had also made it onto the show, and when they weren’t with the woman (Logan’s forgotten her name) they were with each other. 

Logan hadn’t liked him at first. In fact, he didn’t like anyone on the show, but Patton had refused to leave him alone. He’d somehow wormed his way into conversation, and Logan had found that his initial opinion of Patton had been wrong. He was intelligent, kind, and completely capable of making sensible jokes.

Before he knew it, he was spending almost every free moment with Patton, even if they were on camera. He began to notice that the two of them were being recorded more often, though he attributed it to the fact that the other bachelors were dwindling. Logan had been watching Patton joke with one of the few remaining bachelors when he realized he was feeling strange. His heart felt like it was fluttering in his chest, and he got a light feeling in his lungs and stomach. 

It took him a couple weeks to realize what that feeling was, and when he did he was - dare he say it - scared. 

Little did he know Patton was going through a similar crisis in the middle of his date with the bachelorette. He was the guy everyone was betting on since he seemed to click with her so well, and he did like her, but he was just realizing that he liked Logan more. And well, Patton being Patton, that didn’t stay secret for very long. 

It had been one of the rare instances where the camera had left them alone, and the two were taking full advantage of the situation to talk about deeper things. They’d been talking on the couch with a movie on in the background, not paying attention to it. Logan can’t remember what they’d been talking about, but he remembers the way his brain had record-scratched when Patton blurted, “I really really like you and I don’t really know what to do about it but I don’t wanna win the show anymore because I like you more than Samantha!” 

Ah, so that was her name.

Patton’s rushed confession had led to a long discussion and Logan’s own admittance of feelings. They agreed to play their parts on camera, but every private moment was for the two of them. And it worked too, until there were only three men left. 

Logan didn’t get the rose. 

He’d hoped that wouldn’t be the end, that Patton would throw in the towel and quit the show with him, but Patton just gave him a sad smile and waved goodbye. Logan went home, broken-hearted. He’d convinced himself that Patton had lied about his feelings and had gotten together with Samantha. He had no definitive proof of that, however; he refused to watch the show. 

He didn’t want to see the man he loved get together with someone else.  

Logan was brought back to the present when the two men finally reached the park. He guided Patton to a bench far from the park’s paths to give them a little privacy, ignoring the slight feelings of nostalgia. Patton sits beside him, kicking his legs and smiling. “Soooooo, how’ve ya been, Lo?”

“It’s Logan.”

Patton’s smile fades. “Oh. Right, sorry.”

Logan adjusts his glasses. “And I’ve been perfectly fine, thank you for asking.”

Patton glances at Logan. “So, uhm… I guess you wanna talk about us?”

Logan takes a deep breath. If Patton needs it outlined for him in bold then so be it. “There is no us, Patton. You’ve made that quite clear.”

Patton blinks, confused and hurt. “I- what?”

“Don’t play innocent with me, Hart. You know, if you truly didn’t hold feelings for me, there was no reason you needed to string me along. I would have understood; we were, after all, on a television show where we were attempting to woo a woman.” His tone comes off a little more scathing than he really meant, but a hurt little part of him convinced him he deserved to finally let it all out, to let Patton know how he hurt him. 

“Wh- but I do-”

“Don’t. We agreed that if one of us got voted off, the other would leave as well. After all it would be incredibly distasteful to pretend to date someone else while the other was watching from home, wouldn’t you say?” 

Patton winces. “I-I’m sorry, Lo, I was trying to-”

“It’s Logan. My name is Logan. Only my friends get to call me Lo, or L, or any other asinine nickname they please, and you are no friend of mine. I was doing fine, really, and then you waltz back into my life without regard like you didn’t break my heart. I want you to leave. Leave me alone, and leave my life, like you intended to a year ago. Go back to Susan.”

“…Samantha.”

“Whatever.”

Patton sniffles and wipes his eyes, nodding and standing up. “Okay, Lo… I’m sorry.” He walks away, leaving Logan alone on the bench. 

Over the next few days, something about the encounter keeps scratching at Logan’s brain. For reasons he can’t fathom he finds himself searching for their season and bringing up the last couple of episodes. He watched the episode where Samantha chose Patton and the other male, and Logan was left rose-less. He watched as Patton gave a pained smile and waved goodbye, as the emotions he’d thought he’d hidden well were written across his face, and then that was it. 

He watched the next episode, watched as Patton explained that he’d met someone on the show that he liked, but it wasn’t Samantha. He watched Patton talk about this amazing guy who was funny and smart and kind in his own special way, how he made Patton feel like he was floating on air. He watched as he told the audience that he’d planned to leave the show with this guy but the night before he got kicked off he got the news that his grandma was in the hospital. He explained that he needed the money from being on the show to help pay the bill, and that if this guy still wanted to be with him, to please call him tomorrow night. The producer even let the TV guys put Patton’s number on the screen. And then….

“I love you so much, Lo. Please call me. I’m sorry.”

Shit. 

“Hello?”

Logan’s heart squeezed at the utterly dejected tone on the other end of the line. “Ah, Patton, I-”

“Wait, Logan? How’d you get my number?”

“I…. Finally watched the last episode. It was on the screen.”

“Oh…”

“Yes. I… I need to apologize. I was being incredibly selfish when I said all those things at the park, and I hadn’t given you a chance to explain your end. I was hurt, but that is no excuse for my behavior. I had no idea about any of that, and if I had, I would not have kept you waiting for a year. I am terribly sorry.”

There’s a brief pause where Logan can hear the faint static over the line and his heart lodges itself into his throat. A brief moment where his brain seems to work at maximum speed to make him paranoid and anxious. 

And then Patton laughs. 

It’s the same, full, joyful sound Logan remembers, and his anxious and fearful mood is fighting with the utterly in love one blooming in his chest at the sound. They then lose out to his confusion and he gathers the courage to speak up. “…Patton? Is everything alright?”

He giggles. “I just- you- I tried to- when we were having coffee-” More giggling. “I guess you still kinda zone out when I talk too long, huh?”

Logan’s face flushed as he recalled what he could remember of the conversation and connected the dots. “Wh- I didn’t-”

“It’s okay, Lo.” Logan can hear the smile in his voice, “You can make it up to me. Let’s say… 6:30, that little diner on Watt?”

Logan smiles, sitting in his armchair. “That sounds lovely.”

“Great, I’ll see you then!”

Patton hung up, and Logan spent the rest of the afternoon fretting over what to wear and what to say. 

He even showed up half an hour early, but Patton showed how well he knew Logan because he was there waiting.

And this time, Logan got the rose. 

A/N: oh my god I’m so sorry this turned out waaaaayyyyy longer than i intended. disclaimer; ive never seen the bachelor or the bachelorette, so im basing this off of like, the few gifs/clips ive seen through tumblr and shit. hope you like!

uhhhhhhhh i guess i should start tagging these???

@hungry-red-panda @neonb-fly @chemically-imbalanced-romance @punsterterry @dead4sevenyears @metaphoricalpluto2