#Eliza kicks trash

[say-hwaet]

If I Had to Do it All Again

Chapter Four: The Reverend and the Refuse Previous Chapter: Three Next Chapter: Five Summary: Eliza goes on her first job with the reverend to try to con their way into thousands of dollars, but at what price? Warnings: Language, Mature themes, Attempted S/A, violence, (This chapter is intense) Word Count: ~10,200 Author's Note: I'm trying to leave as many warnings as possible, but this chapter is pretty intense. If it isn't your cup of tea, you can skip the part when you see the <<< and when it ends with >>>.

Four days have passed and you feel more set in your decision. It is happening. You and Reverend Swanson are ready to head to Half Moon City and schmooze the tycoon. After going over Alice’s schedule with Annabelle, you meet with Susan to get dolled up for the trip.

Dutch has spared no expense, having John and Bill steal a stagecoach and bring it back to the camp, it will be your carriage to the ball. You feel the tension in the air, the anticipation, riches untold if you are successful.

Arthur has been gone a couple of days. You were hoping he’d stay behind to watch Isaac while you are gone, but after what had happened, you can’t bring yourself to ask. Maybe once you come back with the money, he can see how you are right and he was wrong.

You asked Hosea where he had gone, and he said only to trust that he is working on something important. You trust Hosea, but you can’t help but feel that he’s hiding something from you.

“Stay still, girl!” Susan chides as she applies red lipstick to your bottom lip. “This stuff ain’t that easy to come off, and I’d hate to get it on your cheek.”

You are about to say sorry, but any attempt to speak is stopped with a pushed swipe over your top lip. Susan is careful to not go over your cupid’s bow, and removing her hand from your face, she makes a rubbing movement with her mouth. “Go like this.”

You mirror her movements, smearing the red pigment across your lips. Your eyelashes feel heavy from the makeup, and you can’t imagine how women must go about their lives wearing this stuff day in and day out, all for the sake of looking pretty.

“How do I look?” you ask.

Susan steps back, her eyes scanning you from head to toe, a critical gaze pinning you under scrutiny. "Like you own half the world," she finally declares with a nod of approval. The compliment feels strange on your ears, but it settles some of your nerves. “See for yourself.”

You stand and glance at your reflection in the small looking-glass. Your mouth goes agape at what you see.

It is the same dress as before, but the corset you wear underneath has cinched your waist and pushed up your bust. The blue of the gown looks different in the daylight, and you feel afraid to move, lest you fall or damage the gown. Your shoulders are bare, and your collarbone is exposed. You wish that the tan of your face wasn’t so prominent, as it makes you look less like a sheltered heiress and more like a street harlot. Your hair is done up and loose curls frame your face.

“I don’t recognize myself.”

Susan chortles. “That’s a good thing. We don’t want you recognizable should things…” She stops.

You know what she was going to say.

“Should things go wrong.” You feel the air tighten around you. Were all those words of Dutch’s just that? Words? Words to puff you up and make you feel invincible for just long enough to risk your neck? “What am I doing?” you breathe, resting a palm on your breast. “What if I do fail?”

Susan's face softens for a moment, her usual stern demeanor giving way to something gentler. She steps forward, placing her hands on your shoulders, the warmth of her touch oddly comforting despite the chill in the air. "Listen, girl," she begins, her voice low and steady. "Every one of us risks somethin’ in this racket. But never forget why you’re doin’ this — for your family, for us. This night could change everything if you play your cards right. Just remember everything we’ve practiced.”

You swallow hard, feeling the weight of her words settle like stones in your stomach. "I won't let you down.”

She nods, taking your chin and giving it a gentle squeeze. "I know you won't." Susan steps back, her hands falling to her sides. Her gaze lingers on you a moment longer before she turns away. "Time to go."

You turn, and carrying your dress high enough so you don’t trip, you leave the tent and step out into the sun.

***

Arthur is desperate to hurry back. After a couple of days of searching, scoping, and following, he’s found something. He’s found a lead. A lead tempting enough for Dutch to call this plan of his off. He didn’t think he’d make it, but knowing that today was the day, he has hardly stopped to eat or drink as he searched most of northern California.

It is a caravan. A caravan of wealthy travelers who struck gold and are now heading east to cash in on their fortunes. Gold. Enough gold for a gang of outlaws to buy land and settle down somewhere.

Somewhere safe for you and your children.

He urges Boadicea onward, his spurs nicking her sides. She breathes heavily, eager to please her rider.

The sun is lowering in the sky, casting long afternoon shadows across the rugged landscape, turning the earth into a reddish gold. Arthur’s eyes are fixed ahead as he pushes Boadicea to her limits. Each hoofbeat is urgent, a rhythmic thumping that mirrors his racing heart. He needs to make it back before you go, before you do this thing and risk death.

He sees the camp in the distance, and resounds a call to let everyone know he is back. “Hosea…!” He shouts, his voice echoing throughout the tents. “Hosea…!”

He sees Hosea slowly emerge from behind one of the tents and he feels something deep within him. Dread.

Boadicea skids to a stop, a plume of dust growing from her hooves. Arthur dismounts, patting her on the neck before running into camp to meet Hosea.

“Hosea, I found—”

“You’re too late, Arthur.”

Hosea's face is a mask of sorrow, his eyes reflecting the dying light of the day. "They've already left, headed for Half Moon City. Dutch said they couldn’t wait any longer." He lowers his head. “I tried to prolong it as best as I could.”

Arthur feels the punch of those words deep in his gut, a cold spread of fear seeping in his veins. “But what I had was solid, it is more than—”

“This is Dutch we are talkin’ about,” Hosea reminds him. “When he gets something in his mind…”

Arthur backs away. He knows Hosea is right, but he still struggles to believe it. Would Dutch have still gone forward with his plan, even when there is something else far better?”

He thinks about the repercussions, what could happen. You could���he could…

He lifts his head, looking at Hosea. “Where are my children?”

Hosea looks over to your tent. That is all the answer he needs.

Arthur turns, walking to your tent. He sees Annabelle sitting on the cot, rocking Alice in her arms. Isaac naps behind her, in the remaining space between her and the wall of the wagon. 

Arthur looks at his daughter. He really hasn’t taken the time to hold her, he realizes. His own daughter, and he has only held her once.

Arthur moves forward, his steps heavy with the weight of regret and a newfound urgency. As he steps inside the tent, Annabelle looks up, her eyes filled with a mixture of calm and relief. He sits beside her, reaching out a trembling hand to touch Alice's small head, feeling the soft wisps of hair under his fingers.

“I know that look,” Annabelle says with a smile.

Arthur only looks up at her and without saying another word, she brings herself closer to him, her arms bringing the baby to him.

Instinctively, he folds his arms in the way you taught him years ago, when he first held Isaac. And just as gently and quietly as he came into the tent, Annabelle places Alice in his arms.

“There,” she sighs, adjusting the blanket to expose more of the baby’s face. “She knows she’s safe with her daddy.”

Arthur holds Alice close, the tiny heartbeat against his own offering a temporary respite from the chaos far beyond the camp. The child’s warmth penetrates the cold dread that has settled in his bones since Hosea's news.

He looks down into Alice's eyes, so innocent and unaware of the dangers that lurk beyond the canvas walls of their temporary home.

“I failed them, Annabelle,” he says after a while. “Eliza has gone to do what I should have done.”

Annabelle shakes her head. “You both are too hard on yourselves.” She looks out beyond the tent and towards the grass that sways in the ocean breeze. “I’ve been hearing it from both sides, we and it seems to me that you are both terrible at communication.”

Arthur lets out a bitter chuckle, the sound rough in his throat. "Maybe so," he admits, his eyes still locked on Alice's gentle, trusting gaze. "But it's more than just poor words between us. There are lives at stake here, Annabelle."

The wind picks up outside, howling like a warning, reminding Arthur of his faults, his mistakes.

Annabelle smiles. “We are all aware of the odds, Arthur. But we play the cards we're dealt, don't we?” Her gaze is steady, unwavering, as if she could stare down fate itself.

Arthur nods slowly, the weight of their reality settling deeper into his bones. He looks down at Alice, her small fingers curled into a fist, blissfully oblivious to the words they are speaking.

Annabelle leans close to get a good look at her. “She does look like you.”

Arthur turns his head to look at her. “You think so?”

Annabelle nods. “You and Eliza make beautiful children.”

He feels his face grow hot at her words. To be told that by anyone makes him feel uncomfortable, but coming from Annabelle, it carries a weight that is both comforting and heavy. He knows she speaks honestly, her observations always sharp and unclouded.

Arthur shifts Alice in his arms, feeling the slight pressure of her tiny body against his chest. "Thank you," he murmurs, his voice as soft as the breeze drifting through the tent’s opening. The compliment, genuine as it was, still does little to ease the gnawing anxiety in his gut.

He feels a hand on his back and Annabelle speaks something that she hopes will calm his restlessness. “She will be fine, I really believe that.”

“I hope you’re right, Annabelle,” he sighs. “I hope you’re right.”

***

Half Moon City looks more like a maze than anything else. As Pearson drives the coach, you try to get a good look at your surroundings, knowing that you may not get an opportunity like this again. The only other city you’ve ever been to was Jardin City, and that was when you were around twelve weeks pregnant, being escorted by Arthur to your new home in Low Falls. You were still so new to life, being nineteen, and you only had Arthur for guidance and comfort as you traveled.

How little things have changed.

Only now, you are taking the reins. You are heading out on a job that will make you money and provide a way to get you the home that you have wanted. A place for your children to grow up, with a promise for tomorrow.

You look back inside the coach at Reverend Swanson, and he is quietly reading his bible. He has cleaned up some, and while he still can smell like whiskey if the breeze is right, you are finding more confidence that you both can pull this off.

But in case worse comes to worse, you are armored with your revolver on your thigh, and it is nicely concealed beneath the ruffles of your dress. Just a simple lift and draw should do the trick.

You just hope it doesn’t come to that.

“Do you remember what to do, Reverend?” you tentatively ask, hoping that you don’t have to school him on the entire plan.

He merely looks up at you, his head still tilted toward his bible. “Yes, Ms. Bloom.” And he swallows. “Let you do the talking, and I will throw verses around…”

That’s the most coherent thing you’ve heard from him all day. Maybe there is hope.

You nod approvingly. “Yes, that is good.”

As the coach rattles down the cobbled streets of Half Moon City, the buildings lean crookedly as if they're whispering secrets into each other's shadows. Dust clouds billow around the wheels, and somewhere in the distance, a dog barks fiercely, as if warning of impending doom.

You hear many horse-drawn carts drive by you and the bustle of the city draws louder as you get to the more active areas of the city.

You have a feeling that you are close and your suspicions are soon correct when the coach comes to a stop.

“Mr. Pearson?” you ask as you attempt to stick your head out of the coach’s opening. “Have we arrived?”

“Yes, Madame La Papillon,” he answers. “Welcome to Half Moon City.”

So, it begins. You wait attentively while Pearson climbs down from the wagon, approaches your door, and lets you out. You and him had practiced this several times, the goal to make you look as elegant as possible. Everything you do needs to appear like it’s nature. Unadulterated, blue-blooded nature.

Your heart pounds in your chest as your eyes adjust to the light and you gaze upon the Blue Lagoon Hotel and Saloon. It is tall, like the red pines a few miles north of camp. People are coming in and out of the front doors like a swarm of bees disturbed from their hive. Men in tall hats and women in silken dresses, each carrying their own dreams and ambitions on their shoulders.

You straighten your posture and take a deep breath before stepping forward. Reverend Swanson follows closely behind, clutching his worn Bible to his chest like a personal shield. Pearson closes the door behind you, and wastes no time in getting back on the coach and driving off.

He is to come back in two hours, where you will nonchalantly board and ride off with a case full of cash.

“Are you ready, Reverend?” you ask, still in awe of the structure of the building.

“Yes,” he says quietly, and you hope to take that as awe as well, not for a lack of confidence.

You continue on, practicing the elegant walk that you rehearsed in front of Susan. Back straight, head high, soft eyes. Back straight, head high, soft eyes…You repeat these tips over and over, and catching the wonton glances of some men in suits, you are reassured that it seems to be working.

Two doormen open the doors for you. “Good afternoon, miss,” they greet, and you suddenly feel like royalty, or as close as you will get to it anyway.

The lobby of the hotel is vast, the floors polished and shining in such a way that your gown’s reflection can be easily seen in it. Hotel guests walk to and fro, and you feel like you stick out like a sore thumb.

You swallow, and carry on. “Come along, Reverend,” you beckon and thankfully, you hear him stepping close behind you.

You approach the man who stands at the front desk and he eyes you in such a way that makes you feel both flattered and embarrassed. You hold his gaze without faltering, your expression serene and confident, giving nothing away.

“I have some urgent business to discuss with Mr. Steele,” you state plainly, maintaining a soft, nearly seductive voice. You feel Reverend Swanson turn to look at you, clearly surprised by your change in demeanor. “Would you kindly tell me where he is?”

The man studies you for a moment. “Mr. Steele doesn’t speak to anyone without an appointment, or unless you are sitting across from him at a game.”

A game, he must mean poker. You’ve never played it in your life, but if you can’t excuse an appointment, you will have to go that route.

You lift your chin. “Who says that I don’t play?”

The man nearly chuckles. “You, madame?”

“That is Madame La Papillon to you, sir,” you state with an edge of your voice. “And yes, an heiress has to do something to bide her time.”

You are surprised by what is coming out of your mouth. You are grateful for all of those books you have read over the years. If they have done anything for you, it would be to lend you great practice for conversations such as this.

You pause for a moment, waiting for the man to respond.

“Well, far be it from me to tell a distinguished guest such as yourself no.” He snaps his fingers, and a young man hurries over to you and the reverend. “Please escort Madame La Papillon and her guest to Mr. Steele’s table.” He eyes you with a glance that makes you feel uncomfortable. “He will be happy to allow a late starter such as this.”

You simply bow your head, carrying on the airs of propriety as the young man encourages you to follow him. Leaving the hotel lobby, he leads you to the other part of the building.

The saloon.

You remember Dutch saying that Mr. Steele runs an underground casino, and you wonder if you will get to see it. If you play your cards right, literally and figuratively, you just might be walking out of here with more than a couple thousand dollars.

The saloon is dimly lit, with low hanging lamps casting a golden glow over the patrons who mill about, their faces etched with the hard lines of life in the West. The click of poker chips and the soft shuffling of cards create a continuous, soothing undertone that belies the tension hanging thick in the air. You remain composed, despite the lustful eyes that cast glances in your direction. Maybe Susan and Annabelle are right, maybe you are beautiful.

But you’d rather no man look at you the way they do, like wild animals eyeing innocent prey. They won’t go near you, thankfully, because of the clergyman beside you.

The young man stops at a table in the corner. Four men are already seated and the young man goes around the table to the larger man seated the farthest away from you.

He wears a dark suit, with a white silk vest and red necktie. His Blond hair and mustache look neat and trimmed, his dark eyes looking up at you while the young man whispers something in his ear. You swallow and try to remain as composed as you can. Reverend Swanson, thankfully, remains still, but you don’t know how much longer that will last.

“Well,” the man begins as he leans into his seat. “I am told that you play poker as a pastime.”

You keep your eyes soft. “Only when it pleases me.” And you gesture to the reverend. “I am here on more…sacred business.”

The man studies you. “So, you have not come to play poker?”

“I’ve come to speak to you, Mr. Steele.”

The man grins, his dark eyes nearly piercing into your soul. “You have my attention, now, Miss…?”

You step forward, leaning over the poker table to offer your hand. “Madame La Papillon.”

You see his eyes drift down toward your bust and you resist the urge to slap him as he takes your gloved hand and kisses your knuckles. “It is my pleasure.” Letting your hand go he lifts his chin as he studies you. “And what business would this be of?”

“A noble kind. One that would immortalize you as the greatest benefactor of Half Moon City.”

This seems to get his attention, for he grins at the men who sit at his table. Mr. Steele's grin fades slightly as he motions for the others to leave. Reluctance shadows their faces but nobody dares question him. The room quiets as chairs scrape against the rough wooden floor, leaving you, the Reverend, and Mr. Steele in an uneasy trio. He leans back, flicking an imaginary speck of dust from his vest. "Go on, Madame La Papillon. You've piqued my curiosity." And he gestures for you to sit.

You straighten, feeling the weight of the mission on your shoulders. You feel Reverend Swanson stand close to you, pulling a nearby chair. You nod politely at him and go to sit down. Soon, he sits beside you. "Half Moon City suffers, Mr. Steele. The children are hungry, the drought is cruel. We need a man with means, with an alluring presence, to initiate some goodwill upon its people.”

Mr. Steele studies your face, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly as if trying to discern the veracity of your plea. The silence stretches between you like a taut rope. Finally, he leans forward, clasping his hands together on the table's edge. "And why should I be this... benefactor?" His voice hums, hinting at the desire for flattery while also edging on skepticism.

And you lean forward, matching his intensity. "Because, Mr. Steele, you have the power to change the narrative of your life from a ruthless businessman to a beloved savior. Your legacy could be one of redemption and mercy, rather than greed."

The corners of his mouth twitch slightly as if amused by the concept. "Redemption, you say?”

And suddenly, as if in rapture, Reverend Swanson opens his mouth. “And when these things begin to come to pass, then look up, and lift up your heads; for your redemption draweth nigh…!”

Your eyes widen, unprepared for his sudden outburst. You had thought that he would remain under control, as he’s done a good job so far, but this was not what you had prepared for.

Mr. Steele eyes the reverend, his nose wrinkled with agitation. “What?”

You try to say something, to regain his attention and save this from developing into a disaster. “Reverend Greene has a way with scripture, sir. He means only to inspire hope, to boost the morale of the community in these trying times." You glance at the Reverend, urging him with your eyes to hold his peace.

Mr. Steele stares at you both for a moment longer before letting out a slow, measured breath and leaning back into his chair. You think the chips are in your stack, or whatever figurative language you want to use. You don’t know how to play poker. “I see. I can understand his sentiments.”

You can’t help but blink. “You do, Mr. Steele?”

“But I must share my reservations. If you are seeking money, surely a woman such as you can find the funds on her own.”

You counter his argument quickly. “I am an heiress, but this problem needs more than just a woman’s money.”

He clicks his tongue. “The bank, perhaps? A bank would surely loan out the money with a name such as yours.”

You shake your head. “May I be honest with you, Mr. Steele?”

He nods. “Of course, Madame La Papillon.”

“I don’t trust banks. Haven’t you heard of the gang of outlaws that have been seen in town? My servants are too afraid to leave the estate for fear of encountering them. It is only a matter of time before the bank gets robbed.” You feign a look of disgust. “Shameful.”

Mr. Steele nods, and you begin to feel excitement. Is this rouse really working? Are you going to be able to pull this off?

“I, too, have heard of them. But, madame…” He reaches across the table and takes your hand, caressing it with his thumb. “I have already been taking care of it.”

You are clearly uncomfortable at his forwardness, but for the sake of the plan, you go along with it. You imagine that you are talking to someone else. You try to think of someone more desirable, and soon his image begins to appear.

Rugged features, marine eyes, fawn-colored hair.

You blink quickly, and the visage disappears, Mr. Steele taking his place.

You swallow and smile. “I have no doubt that you know what you are doing, Mr. Steele.”

He grins, his pupils dilating and his grip on your hand tighter. “I think that I will assist you on this venture of goodwill and charity.”

You try to contain your excitement. “I am thankful, Mr. Steele.”

He lets your hand go and begins to rise from his seat. “Why don’t you come with me to my office? My safe is there, and I can equip you with funds right now.”

You begin to get out of your chair, and Reverend Swanson isn’t quick enough to help you out of it. “That would be wonderful, sir. We will follow you.”

Mr. Steele leaves the table and you and Swanson follow close behind, weaving around other poker tables and cigar smoke.

You are soon led away from the groups of people and down a hallway. It is dark, with dim lighting the only source of a guide. You begin to feel uneasy about this, but bank on the reassurance that you have Swanson with you, a security blanket that he is a man of the cloth, or at least pretends to be.

“Swanson,” you whisper quietly. “Keep your guard up.”

But he is looking at the lights, like a moth to the flame, and you know that he isn’t listening.

Mr. Steele stops at one of the final doors in the hall, and you can see a door at the very end that leads outside, the light from the day entering in through the stained glass framed in its surface. Mr. Steele unlocks his office door and walks inside.

And you enter.

The room is well lit and you begin to let your eyes roam about the room when you hear a soft click .

“Now, did you really think I was going to fall for that?”

<<<You whip around, and see Mr. Steele braced against the door. The reverend is nowhere in the room. You think to call for Swanson, but figure that would be pointless. The door is solid oak, and the walls are paneled with varnished wood, meaning it’s soundproofed. And even if Swanson could hear you, he’s absolutely useless. 

You merely take a step back, trying to be subtle but maintain a distance. “Fall for what?”

Mr. Steele's smile fades, replaced by a chilling gaze. "Playing the charitable soul in need of funds, when your intentions are as dark as this room was before the lights came on." His voice is steady, but there's a danger in it that makes your skin crawl.

You keep backing away slowly, eyeing his lustful gaze, he is practically frothing at the mouth.

You’ve seen this look before. Willy. When he cornered you in the alley, his intentions far from honorable.

“I—I don’t know what you are talking about, Mr. Steele,” you say, trying to deflect the tension in the room.

Mr. Steele takes a step forward, his heavy shoes thudding ominously on the thick, oriental rug that sprawls beneath your feet. Each step he takes sends a shiver down your spine, and the room suddenly feels smaller, suffocating.

"You know exactly what I'm talking about," he hisses. “Women don’t just come to me unless they want something…” You try to circle the room to reach the door, but he corners you. “But I think it is about time that I wanted something, too.”

Your heart pounds in your chest, every beat echoing in your ears like the sound of a drum in the quiet of the desert night. Panic grips you, but you force yourself to think. The door is blocked, Mr. Steele's frame filling the gateway like a dark shadow cast by the dying light.

"You misunderstand, Mr. Steele,” you tremble. “I am not alone. You best let me out of this room, this minute!”

“Or what? The reverend will speak more verses to me?” And he hurries to you and before you can react, he takes you by the arms. You try to break free of his grip, but his hands are too strong. “I will make you speak in tongues…” he says, and kisses you on the lips in sloppy, hungry movements, his tongue forcing its way into your mouth.

Your mind races, desperate for an escape as you push against his chest, your palms slick with panic. With a twist and a sharp elbow to his ribs, you manage to wriggle free from his grasp. Mr. Steele staggers back, momentarily winded by your unexpected defiance.

Breathless and heart still hammering, you try to make your way to the door. Gripping the handle tightly, you try to turn it, but it won’t budge. It is locked. “Swanson…!” you scream, hoping that he can hear you.

Rough hands grab you and pull you backward, you try to break free but he’s prepared this time for your self-defense maneuvers. He forces you to the floor, and as you try to kick up at him, he uses his weight to pin you down, and holds your arms above your head.

You begin to cry. “Please, no…!” you sob. “Please…!”

But he doesn’t listen, his hands already at work at lifting up your dress. You feel the sudden coolness as the layers of fabric are bunched up near your abdomen, his grip on your wrists like a vice. You’re only wearing a camisole, corset, and stockings, what was a mere effort to bear the summer heat, is now making his task much easier. 

He brings his mouth close to yours again, kissing you as you turn to avert him. With his free hand that was working on your camisole, he slaps you hard across the face. “Stop moving! Or you will never leave this room alive…!”

You whimper pleas, begging him to not do this.

Then you remember. You remember what you brought with you.

He begins to rip at your dress at the bust, reaching for your breasts with grabbing fingers, which is distraction enough for you to wriggle a hand free from his grip, draw your weapon from your thigh, and shoot him in the groin.

Mr. Steele howls in agony, clutching at the wound oozing darkly beneath his fingers. The sound is guttural, filled with shock and pain. You quickly rise to your feet, hair in disarray and you see him on his back, clutching at his crotch.

“You whore…!” he calls you. And in a flicker of light, you see Willy’s face.

And you feel something snap within you. >>>

Gripping the revolver tightly, you approach him, and use the grip to beat him upside the head. He cries in agony, his head falling back on the floor.

“The safe…!” you shout. “Where is it?”

He lifts his head, and spits blood at your feet.

You strike him again. “Now!”

Mr. Steele's eyes narrow, venomous fear mixing with his pain. "Behind the... painting," he gasps, every word a struggle against the tide of his agony.

You don't hesitate, turning to scan the dimly lit room. Your gaze locks on a large, ornate painting of a somber landscape hanging above the heavy oak desk. With no time to waste, you cross the room, your footsteps echoing on the wooden floorboards. Your hands tremble slightly as you reach for the painting, and with a quick tug, it moves aside to reveal a sturdy steel safe embedded in the wall.

Your heart pounds in your chest as you see the dial. You need the combination. You whip around and glare at him, pointing your revolver at his head. “What is the combination?” He doesn’t answer, and you feel a wrath inside you as you step toward him, you aim unwavering. “Tell me what it is…!”

Mr. Steele's face is contorted in pain, his breath coming in short, gasping bursts. He hesitates, eyes flickering with a desperate kind of calculation. "I'll never tell you," he rasps, his voice barely audible.

You cock the hammer back on the revolver, the sound sharp and final and that is when you see it in his eyes. He didn’t believe you would dare, but now…he doesn’t have a choice.

“I have looked into the eyes of the last man I killed…” you say, your voice raspy from screaming. “I won’t hesitate to do it again.”

The silence that follows is suffocating. You watch as the realization dawns over Steele's pained expression, the fear now unmistakably etching deep lines across his grimy face. Finally, with a cough that splatters more blood on his already stained shirt, he whispers, “Left 22...right 18...left 9...right 45.”

You keep your gun trained on him as you back towards the safe. Your fingers are clumsy with adrenaline as you enter the combination. The clicks of the dial sound monstrously loud in the tense silence of the room. Left, right, left, right—each number resounds like a drumbeat in your ears, echoing the racing of your heart. At last, you hear the satisfying click of the mechanism unlocking, and you pull open the heavy metal door. Inside, the safe is crammed with stacks of neatly bound dollar bills and several small bags that clink with the promise of gold coin to buy silver-toed boots and kerosine to last several lifetimes. You take a nearby case and shove it full of the spoils, hurriedly eager to get the hell out of here.

“You got what you wanted…” you hear him breathe. “Now, go…”

You look at the gun in your hand. You can make one of two choices.

“You’re wrong…” And you turn to face him. He sees it in your eyes. The choice you made. “I don't want you to do this ever again.”

The words hang in the air, heavy as the smoke from your last shot. Steele’s eyes widen, a flicker of a plea passing through them before it's snuffed out by resignation. He knows the rules of this game as well as you do; mercy has no place in it.

You point the gun at him, aim…

And fire.

***

You make it out of the Hotel through the back way, after seeing the exit from earlier. It is dark, but you are able to navigate your way under the street lights. You don’t see Swanson anywhere, and you try to go meet Pearson at the location where he was supposed to meet you. He isn’t there, either.

You’re frantic. You’re carrying a case full of cash. Someone is bound to have heard that final gunshot, they will discover the body, and eventually look behind the painting to find the safe empty.

You need an escape.

That’s when you see a parked buckboard. A lone horse, waiting for its driver somewhere nearby.

You’ve never stolen a horse, let alone a wagon before.

But desperation has a way of shaving the edges off your morality.

You cast a glance around the dimly lit alleyway—no one in sight yet, but your heart thumps like the hooves of a stampede against your ribs. With quivering hands, you clamber onto the buckboard, urging the horse forward with a flick of the reins. You try to be as nonchalant as possible, wiping the tears that are streaming down your face out of nowhere. You begin to hyperventilate, the trauma of the last thirty minutes finally catching up with you.

“Get ahold of yourself, Eliza!” you tell yourself. “This isn’t over yet…!”

You reach the outskirts of the city and eye the end of the cobbled streets and the beginning of dirt road and tall trees.

The darkness of the forest ahead promises sanctuary but also hides unknown threats. The horse, sensing your urgency, picks up speed, its hooves kicking up dust and small stones. The rhythm of the ride does little to calm your nerves; instead, it serves as a harsh reminder of the pursuit that might soon follow.

You have to tell everyone. You have to tell them all to start packing. Soon you won’t be welcome here.

***

Arthur closes the small book with finality. “Alright, now that is three times that I’ve read you Mother Goose.” He looks at his son, all tucked in the blankets on the cot. “Ain’t you sleepy yet?”

Isaac, only his eyes peeking out from the covers, shakes his head.

Arthur slumps his shoulders. “Why not?”

“I’m worried about Mommy.”

Arthur's face softens as he sits on the edge of the cot, brushing a stray lock of hair from Isaac's forehead. "Your mama is going to be just fine, son. She’s strong, and she’s got Pearson and Reverend Swanson with her. They’re just making sure we can get the money we need to find someplace special to live.” Though his words are spoken with calm and positivity, he finds them hard to believe. You have been gone a long while, and he’s fighting every part of him that is screaming that something is wrong.

But he has to be strong. For Isaac. For Alice. No one can see his fear. 

Isaac blinks softly, studying his father for a moment. “It is strange having you here and her gone.”

Arthur nods, smiling. “It is a little funny, ain’t it?”

Isaac finally emits a yawn, and Arthur sighs, relieved that the boy is finally getting tired. “I like it when you both are here.”

Arthur reaches a hand to rub the top of his son’s head. “Me too, kid.”

Just then, the sound of wagon wheels speeding into the camp cuts through the quiet of the night, startling both Arthur and Isaac. Arthur’s heart pounds as he stands up swiftly, his hand instinctively reaching for the gun he keeps on him at all times.

“Stay here,” he whispers to Isaac, who nods, pulling the blankets closer around his face. He’s begun to learn to not question his parents when told to stay still, for danger usually isn’t too far behind. 

Turning, Arthur glances at the sleeping form of his daughter, quiet as can be, and slips out from the cover of the tent.

He sees John making his way to the oncoming coach, which now comes to a halt. He recognizes the coach and feels an overwhelming swell of relief.

You’re here. Finally.

He tries not to appear too eager as he quickens his steps. Without even saying hello to Pearson as he descends from the coach, Arthur reaches for the door handle and pulls it back.

To find that there is only one passenger.

The reverend.

Arthur feels his heart drop to his stomach, his face cold, only to be instantly morphed into a cold fear. “Where is she?” He asks the reverend. “Where is Eliza…?”

By the way that Swanson moves, it is clear that he is inebriated. He stumbles slightly as he steps out, his eyes unfocused and a bottle clutched loosely in one hand. 

Arthur's patience snaps like dry twigs under a boot heel. "Reverend!" His voice is sharp, almost a crack of thunder in the still night. "Where is my woman? What has happened to her?!”

Swanson sways, blinking slowly as if trying to gather his scattered thoughts. "Arthur... it's all…fffiiiine," he slurs, his voice heavy with drink and despair. "There was lots of drinkssss... at the Grayson farm. Men... generous man, Mr. Steele..."

Arthur's grip tightens around the door of the coach, confusion rattling his brain. “There was no farm…! It was a saloon!”

He turns his head and sees Pearson, a surprised look on his face. “Swanson said she was already on her way here. She’s not with you?”

Arthur can’t contain his anger anymore and in a fraction of a second, he whips around, grips the clergyman’s jacket, and pins him against the coach.

“Arthur…!” John shouts.

Arthur ignores him, his eyes narrowing on the reverend. “You drunken bastard…!” Swanson cries in fear, his feet dangling in the air as he is suspended in Arthur’s grip. “You tell me where Eliza is, or so help me—” Arthur grits his teeth, his face inches from Swanson’s.

“I…I don’t know, Missster Morgan…!” Swanson sputters, the stench of alcohol wafting from his mouth. “There was a poker table…and…and…!”

Arthur isn’t going to get anything from this useless man.

With a furious grunt, Arthur tosses Swanson to the ground. The reverend crashes into the dirt with a pathetic whimper, his bottle shattering nearby, spilling its contents into the thirsty earth. Arthur spins on his heel to face Pearson, his eyes burning with an almost palpable fire.

“And you believed him, Pearson?” He points to the trembling form on the ground. “This fool?”

“What happened?” Turning toward the voice, Arthur sees Dutch, walking for the first time since his attack. He looks calm, far from the worry that Arthur would expect him to have.

Bill, Susan, and Annabelle also appear, gathering around the coach.

Arthur points to Pearson. “This idiot let the drunken preacher tell him that Eliza was already here!” He gestures to the space around them. “Well, where is she then?!”

Dutch raises his palms. “Now, look, there’s got to be an explanation for this.”

Arthur can’t believe this.

He steps forward, the dust swirling around his boots like angry hornets stirred from their nest. “An explanation? Dutch, they took her! While this,” he kicks at a small stone, sending it skittering across the dirt towards Swanson, who cringes, “was too busy drowning himself in whisky to know any better…!”

Hosea, now hearing the conversation, steps into the gathering. “Who took her?”

“That Steele and his goons, I know they did!” Arthur’s jaw tightens, every muscle in his body taut with fury. He turns to Dutch, his brows furrowed and eyes expressing a deep ache. “I had a good score ready for you, but you had to go and use her and risk her life! I told you to stay out of it, Dutch! But you didn’t, and look what has happened…!”

The intensity is building and Dutch knows it. This is the time to say the right thing to keep everyone in line. To rally them up on his side and remove all doubt of his leadership. “I hear your concern, son. But you have got to keep your head.”

“I ain’t gonna lose her, Dutch.”

“And you won’t! We will go after her, and bring her back…!”

This surprises Arthur. It shouldn’t, but it does. “I thought you were tryin’ to heal.”

“I’ve healed enough.”

But Annabelle reaches for him. “Dutch, you’re still hurt. You can’t risk going out there right now. Send the others after her. You can stay here.”

Arthur’s heart softens towards Annabelle. While it is clear she has personal reasons, she is right about his healing not being finished. But surely, Dutch will still insist that he goes along.

Dutch goes quiet for a moment, swallowing thickly. “Alright, I will stay.” Then he turns to look at Arthur. “You, John, and Bill will ride at dawn.”

“Dawn?! She could be dead by then!”

“And risk the whole lot of us riding in the dark? Getting ambushed, perhaps?" Dutch's voice is firm, carrying the hint of an old general. "No, you will ride at first light. Fast and smart. We'll get her back, Arthur."

The nearby campfire crackles, throwing ominous shadows across their faces as each man and woman digest the plan. The somber glow of the firelight deepens the furrows on Dutch's brow, highlighting the strain of leadership etched into his features.

Arthur's eyes blaze with a mixture of anger and resolve. He knows waiting till dawn can be a gamble they can't afford to lose, but he knows that his words hardly carry their weight in this gang anymore. He clenches his fists, feeling the skin tighten around his knuckles. "Fine," he grunts, trying to mask the fear gnawing at his gut. The fire's flickering light reflects off his eyes, mirroring the flames that burn within him.

Dutch nods. “Trust me, son.” He rests a hand on his shoulder before lifting it to carefully back away. “Let’s all get some sleep. We will need to be ready for what comes.”

The gang disperses. As John turns to leave, he looks at Arthur. He sees the look on his face. He’s never seen this side of Arthur before. Sure, he’s seen him get angry and beat peoples’ faces in, but not over some woman. They lock eyes for a moment, but John says nothing, turning away and heading to his tent.

Hosea walks up to Arthur. “I’m sorry, son.”

“Sorry won’t bring Eliza back.”

“You’re right, it won’t. But it's all we've got right now. You need to hold on until morning." Hosea's voice is as calm as the night is still, but his eyes betray a deep concern for both Eliza and Arthur.

Arthur turns away, unable to face Hosea or anyone else. He walks to the edge of the campsite, to the edge, where the darkness swallows the ocean’s horizon whole. He stares out, his eyes searching through the shadowy darkness as if he could will your return with his gaze alone. The night air is crisp, chilling his lungs as he breathes deeply, trying to stifle the rage and fear battling within him.

As the night deepens, the camp settles into an uneasy stillness. Everyone has finally retired for the evening, and Alice and Isaac are in a deep slumber, but sleep eludes Arthur. He lies awake on the floor of your tent, staring up through the opening at a sky cluttered with stars, his mind racing with what the morning will bring. Beside him, he hears Isaac’s soft little breaths as he dreams, and Arthur wishes he could find such peace. But peace is a stranger these days, especially tonight.

The hours crawl by like dying snakes in the dust. Arthur's thoughts keep returning to you, your face, your laughter, the way you throw her head back when you really get to laughing. It’s been a long time since he’s seen you like that, radiant and carefree. He clenches his fists, feeling the raw edges of his emotions fray.

The sky shifts from dark and starry-eyed to light and pastel from the sunrise. He’s hardly slept at all, only catching fragments of dreams and what he assumes is rest.

He doesn’t want to move, to get up and leave his children, so he lays there, listening to the quiet softness of their synchronized breathing.

Suddenly, an odd sound from outside the tent cuts through the stillness. Arthur's head snaps towards the noise, his hand instinctively reaching for the revolver beside him. He rises from the ground, careful not to make a sound that might wake the children. Putting on his gun belt and slipping out of the tent, he steps into the cool dawn, his eyes scanning the campsite. The fire they had stoked the night before is now nothing more than smoldering embers, casting a weak, flickering light over the area.

The sound comes again — and it comes from just outside of camp. He walks around the scattered tents and around the large coach as it was left where it was parked last night.

That’s when he sees a horse, a buckboard, and a flash of blue.

You have just stepped down from the wagon.

He takes but a second to look at you, instantly running over to you, the happiest and most relieved he’s felt in months. He comes at you from behind and just as he reaches out to touch you, you whip around and scream at the top of your lungs.

“Do not touch me…!!!”

Arthur freezes, hand suspended in the air, his heart slamming against his ribs. Confusion wrinkles his brow as he stares at you, taken aback by your fierce reaction. There’s a wildness in your eyes he hasn't seen before, a raw edginess that makes you seem almost like a stranger.

He sees your gown, torn at the bust, covered in sawdust and dirt. Your hair is unkempt, streaks mark through your makeup on your face. Your eyes bloodshot and red.

“Eliza…?” he asks, concern in his voice.

Your breathing is ragged, almost as if you had been running for miles, yet your voice pierces the morning air like a sharp knife. "We…we got to go," you gasp out, your eyes darting nervously around the clearing as if expecting a ghost to emerge from the shadows. Arthur's protective instincts kick in immediately. He reaches for you again, but you quickly slap his arm. “I said don’t touch me…!”

He doesn’t know what is going on, only that something is terribly wrong. He raises his palms and takes a step back. “Alright, darlin’, I won’t.”

Your screams have alerted some members of the camp, one being Susan.

She comes running, clutching at her skirts so she doesn’t trip. “Is that Eliza? I swear—” And as soon as she sees you, she halts in her tracks. “Oh Lord…!” And she lowers her voice, speaking softly to you. “Eliza, what happened?”

You shake your head, your face pinched as you refuse to say. “We have to go,” you repeat. “We need to leave. Now…!”

“Why?” Arthur dares to ask.

You look at him, your eyes still reflecting the wild gaze but with a hint of fear. “You don't understand,” you whisper hoarsely, voice trembling. “They're going to be coming for me. They won't stop.”

Arthur’s jaw tenses, his eyes moving quickly over the clearing, scanning for any signs of danger. “Who’s comin’ for you, Eliza?” His voice is low, filled with concern.

“What is going on?”

It’s Dutch. He comes back out of his tent, clearly being awakened to your screams.

Your eyes narrow on him. “I got your money, Dutch! Are you happy?” You almost cackle, pointing to the case that sits in the buckboard. “It’s about time too, because it won’t be long before we aren’t welcome here…!”

And Dutch, stepping forward, glares at you with darkened eyes. “What did you do…?”

Your eyes widen, and you rest a hand on your breast. “What did I do? I nearly get killed, and Dutch Van der Linde asks, what did I do…?”

And the word that gets Arthur’s attention has his heart nearly stop. You almost got killed?

Arthur's gaze sharpens, his expression hardening as he steps closer, the ground beneath his boots crunching softly. "Eliza, who tried to kill you?" he demands, voice steady but with an edge that slices through the tense air.

You swallow hard, your eyes darting around once more before fixing on Arthur's steadfast expression. The fear in your eyes is palpable as you choke back the terror to speak. “It doesn’t matter…!” You return to the buckboard and grab the case. “Let’s just take the money and go…!” You walk over to Dutch and shove it at him, forcing him to take the case. “We don’t have much time.”

Dutch studies you for a moment, ignoring the heated gaze from Arthur. It is everything in the gunslinger’s power to not say anything, to throw fists, lest he make things worse for you and everyone else who counts on him. He wants Dutch to look at him, but the leader continues to stare at you instead.

Annabelle looks at Dutch with worry, waiting to see what he will do.

But he says nothing about the state of you. How you have returned with blood splattered on your skin. He looks at the case, his hands clutching tightly onto the handle. “Let’s go. We can head North, get out of sight…” He pauses. “Then make it to freedom.”

You almost relax finally, and Arthur catches it. Hoping that you will let him, he comes near you. “Eliza…” You take a step back, inhaling sharply as you watch his hands closely. He keeps his hands raised. “I just want you to sit down.”

“I want to see my babies,” you insist. “I want to see my children.”

“You will…just…I need you to rest for a minute.” He uses his arm to gesture to a large rock nearby, encouraging you to go over and sit. Without saying anything in reply, you begin to walk that way and he follows you.

Once out of earshot, Dutch holds up the case. “I wonder how much…” But he sees intense, green eyes staring at him, and he turns to see Annabelle. She looks almost disturbed, sad, and she softly shakes her head. “What?” he asks, and she doesn’t answer. “What…?!”

“Sometimes,” she sighs. “Sometimes, I feel like I don’t know you.” And she turns to leave him with his money.

After watching you sit down, Arthur sits right beside you, careful not to touch you in any way. He sees you visibly shaking and he so desperately wants to hold you, but can’t.

“I…I want to see my children.”

“They’re asleep, Eliza,” Arthur answers you. “Wouldn’t want to wake them, right?”

You are trembling fiercely, but manage to nod your head softly. Arthur knows now that you aren’t too far from reason, but whatever happened has shaken you something awful. He doesn’t know what to do and he’s fighting everything within him to do something. 

“I’ve never seen you like this before,” he says softly. “Except when…” Then it hits him. And as you lift your head to meet his eyes, he sees the admission in them. “Eliza…What did he do to you…?”

Your lip trembles. “Nothing that can’t be…” You look away, your tears glistening from the light of the rising sun.

Arthur's jaw clenches as he fights the anger boiling inside him. "I'll kill him," he mutters under his breath, his hands forming fists.

“Too late…” His eyes widen and you turn back to look at him. “I shot him, Arthur.” Your hands tremble even more, your breath sharp and heaving as you sob. “I had him tell me where the money was…and shot him.”

Arthur is glad of it. “That bastard got what was comin’ to him.”

You hug yourself tightly. “And that’s the trouble.”

“What?”

“I-I looked into his eyes, and felt no remorse, Arthur…” Your voice shakes terribly, as the tears stream down your face. “I saw Willy’s face and I—” You lift your hands to cover your face. “I just snapped…!” You sob for a long while, your body heaving as you try to catch your breath. “I’m becoming something I’m not, Arthur…! That’s what being here has done to me…!”

Arthur's heart breaks as he listens to your cries, feeling the weight of the harsh life you've both been living. The sun slowly starts to brighten the coach nearby, casting long shadows that seem to creep toward you both like silent specters from your past.

You shake your head fervently. “If I hadn’t come here, none of this would have happened…!”

Arthur’s brow furrows. “You’d be dead!”

“Maybe it’s better to die…!”

Your cry echoes into the air, chilling Arthur to the bone. “You don’t mean that.”

Your eyes convey anything but insincerity. “I don’t want to remember this, Arthur. He touched me, and I…!” You hold your face in your hands. Sobbing loudly.

Arthur feels helpless and he can think of the only thing he knows how. He reaches out slowly, and this time, he doesn't hold back. His arms wrap around you gently, the warmth of his embrace a stark contrast to the cold air around you. You lean into him, your body wracked with sobs that shake you both to the core. “There are evil people in this world, Eliza,” he says. He wishes that he had the power to resurrect Mr. Steele so he would have the pleasure of killing him himself. “There ain’t no nice way around it.”

“Are…Are we evil Arthur?”

He is quiet for a moment, unsure how to answer that. “I don’t think so,” Arthur whispers into your hair, his voice steady but filled with pain.

“I’m…I’m sorry…” you whisper.

“Sorry? Why are you sorry…?”

“I’m…sorry I ever met you.”

Arthur stiffens, the words cutting through him sharper than any lawman’s bullet. For a long moment, there is only the sound of the wind whistling through the valley, carrying with it dust and the distant echo of your sobs. He doesn't let go, though every instinct tells him to recoil from the pain.

“I should have left you alone. I should have just ignored you as soon as you came back to the restaurant…but I loved you so bad…” Your voice shows the ache, the pain and regret that you’ve been deeply harboring. “It’s my fault that this has happened…I should have let you go long ago. I should have…”

Arthur’s grip tightens around you, as if he could hold the shattered pieces of your life together with his own two hands. His silence is heavy, filled with unspoken forgiveness and a deep-seated fear of losing you even now, when everything has already been so irrevocably altered. He doesn’t regret you, no, not one bit, but he can’t let you know that, not now. Not when you are expressing the exact opposite. 

"We ain't got time for what should've and what could've," Arthur finally speaks, his voice rough like the gravel underfoot. "What's done is done. We have to keep moving forward, Eliza. For both our sakes."

“I…I want to go…” you breathe, your voice a whine after your cry. “I don’t want to be here anymore.”

“Alright…” Arthur resigns. “We’ll go.”

You back away from him, and he lets you go from his embrace. “What?”

“You heard me.”

“You—you said ‘we.’” Your eyes widen. “Arthur…?”

“Do you really regret meetin’ me?” He asks, feeling himself become more vulnerable than he has in a long while.

The question hangs in the air, heavier than the gun Arthur holsters at his side. You pause, feeling the weight of your earlier words, and the turmoil they've stirred up inside both of you. For a moment, all you can hear is your own heartbeat, rapid and desperate in its rhythm.

“Eliza?” He asks again. “If you do, I won’t hold it against you, ‘cause I am more at fault than anyone for bringin’ you into this.”

He sees you look at him, your eyes, brown like rich soil, searching his face for your own answer.

Your lips tremble, frozen between the need to confess and the instinct to preserve something fragile. "No, Arthur,” you sigh. “I don’t.”

Arthur feels a weight being lifted. You are finally breaking the walls down, and even within this tragedy, you find yourself to be the safest in his arms. “I’m sorry that I weren’t there.”

“It wouldn’t be the first time.”

Normally, that would hurt, but he knows you are right. As he holds you in his arms, he feels your body shudder with sobs. His own heart aches with each tear that falls from your eyes, but he holds you tighter, a sentinel against the chaos swirling around. “But it is the last time.”

Your brow pinches at his words. “Arthur?”

He wants to tell you the truth. The reason why he had returned to Aspen’s Way. To show you the ring and tell you.

But you are so fragile, just coming from a horrific experience.

And you need to move.

So he offers you another promise, something that will convey the loyalty that he has for you. “We’re in this together, Eliza. Always have been, always will be.”

You swallow. “Arthur, I need more than that…” you admit, your voice stern despite your trembling.

Arthur feels the sting of your words, sharp and unrelenting, but necessary. He nods slowly, understanding the gravity of what you're asking from him.

"I know," he says, his voice gruff with emotion. "And you'll have it." The wind picks up, sending a chill through the thin fabric of your dress and you shudder. Quickly, Arthur removes his jacket and places it around you. “I just need time to prove it to you.”

You nod slowly, the fabric of his jacket heavy on your shoulders but comforting in its warmth. "Time is something we might not have, Arthur."

He doesn't miss the urgency in your voice, the way your eyes dart towards the shadowy trees surrounding you. "Then we'll make it count," he says decisively, his eyes scanning the horizon as if expecting trouble at any moment. The rising sun casts short shadows across the ground, turning ground a golden hue, almost mocking the way he feels inside. Arthur's hand instinctively rests on the butt of his revolver, the metal cool under his touch. "We should move," he says and offers to help you stand up. You accept it, and taking you gently, he escorts you back to camp where the flames of a small fire crackle. 

The gang is oddly quiet, their faces marked by lines of worry and exhaustion as they begin to pack. They know it, something has changed, and not just from the past few hours of events that have followed.

Arthur sees it in their faces. The calm before the storm, just before you all have to pack up and move again.

And, in many ways, the sight is more familiar to him than the safety of a warm bed or the comfort of a quiet town. It's the outlaw life; his bones know it better than anything else, always on the move, always one step ahead of danger—

Always running for his life. 

tag requests:

@photo1030 @eternalsams

[likemosaic]

life is much calmer than it used to be - where there was once political debriefs, set rules for both eliza & all extended family to adhere to, there’s now just … freedom, and nothing but. (while it’s arguable that freedom & boundaries can both be equally constricting, danny is just happy that they all have peace of mind, now more than ever.) the family is visiting eliza (and kaj) at their new home, secluded away from prying eyes. compared to eliza’s first & more predominantly known presidential partner in life? kaj is everything that daniel should have been; even danny can see that already. he greets & treats her with nothing but a genuine smile & warmth in the way he claps his hands together; “hey, killer -“ a moniker for kaj, not eliza, “- come kick th’ball around with me. loser’s gotta streak down the street, buck ass naked.” (to kaj, from danny, political au, with love ❤️)

miscellaneous. / @strnza

kaj...isn't used to having family. or a house. or a warm, sweet-hearted girlfriend who smiles at you every time you look at her and hums oldie tunes while she cooks. for years, it's been kaj, rex, the truck, and the open road, for better or for worse. the old habits die harder than hell: she still can't help but try to conserve water, or worries about changing out her grey water tank. things like flushing toilets and hot baths, her and eliza sharing a warm tub after a long day, all feel as luxurious as a five star hotel. more than once eliza has had to give kaj's ass a playful warning slap, a reminder that while vanlifer girls might skip the shower every now and then, girls who live in houses need to clean up more than twice a week.

it's not bad different. but it is different. and she knows it's different for eliza, too, going from the first lady of the nation to quiet solitude. kaj sometimes finds herself wondering if eliza misses it. if not her ex-husband, than the luxury he provided to his beautiful trophy wife. kaj can't understand the guy--or anyone who'd choose a political post over the girl whose turned kaj's life around so effortlessly.

must be why her and danny get along: a mutual hatred for the man who treated eliza like trash. kaj rolls her eyes good-naturedly at him, tucking her phone in her jeans pocket and mirroring his posture, as if she's gonna tackle him here and block him in the kitchen. it's a facade, danny could out-do kaj in an arm wrestle any day. but the two look like playful siblings, and kaj admits that she loves danny like her own family, single child that she is. if her and eliza ever split, she'd certainly miss him and his goofball attitude. and the audacity.

"pfft. you just wanna see me naked, you freak. i'm tellin' 'liza." said jokingly, though she is tempted to get eliza in on the game. kaj pretends to think, elbowing him gently in the side as she passes to grab the ball out of their hall closet (a luxury that still wigs kaj out sometimes). "hey, maybe it's better if you win. anyone driving by who saw you without clothes would end up blind from the horror, right?"

[mangacupcake]

Drusilla & the Ghost Bride

Drusilla grew up not thinking about her biological family (Much)

And when she was old enough to learn a little more around her being surrendered at a safe haven it still didn’t tell her much if anything.

Now that she’s in an entirely different world she doesn’t really have that high of hopes of finding anything else out.

Or so she thought- cause one day she’s just chilling then some strange ghost guards come in and kick her out of the house?! The audacity…

Drew is about to start fighting back when one of the older looking ghosts stops them “wait a moment- my dear could you please take those off?”

Drew blinks, “you mean my glasses? Uh sure I guess?” And so she humors the spirt and all the guards gasp.

“Those eyes!” “That black hair!” “Even the freckles just like hers!”

Drew learned to stop applying logic to Twisted Wonderland. So she just put her glasses back on and the next she knows she’s being carried away to meet a princess?!

Drew already had questions but seeing Idia Basically frozen in place was just… a lot Drew: Idia, what are you doing here? Idia; on the brink of tears: I don’t know…

That’s when the guards claim they found the princess only living relative, everyone looks at Drew “uh… who is it?” The older ghost from before chuckles “why it’s you my dear. What’s your name?’’

It’s one of those fantasy she had back when had to put all her belongs in trash bags and move across state cause her foster family got tired of her. That she has a family out there and they were looking for her.

But she grew up, and yet here she is being told she’s potentially related to princess??

It’s a very tender moment for Eliza- she’s happy one of her siblings made it out, and Drusilla really does look just like she did!

Eliza is so excited to have a living relative! She starts to ask Drusilla a million questions about her mother grandmother-

Drusilla just quietly says she’s never meet them before. Cue some very confused ghosts, so Drew has to tell them that back in her world she was surrendered to a safe haven- a place where you leave an infant anonymously and they’ll be put into a foster care system.

Or well she tries to explain it the best she can to ghost from another world.

By the end Idia is not crying cause he’s getting married against his will but because damn…

Eliza will have none of it. She’s coming home with her after her wedding.

And even though she knows it’s wrong, Idia doesn’t want to be here, and she was almost kicked out of her house, the idea that someone wants her… that she has a home…

Drusilla never thought about her family or if they came from another world and maybe she didn’t believe that but for a moment that she has someone, and place where there are others waiting for her…

Drusilla holds Eliza’s hand tighter… and just for a moment Drusilla felt like she was home.

@adrianasunderworld @marrondrawsalot @writing-heiress @the-weirdos-mind @nproduction626 @rose-tea-and-strawberries

[smileygoth]

24. Blood-Stained Love (WODtober 2023)

Part 24 of my WODtober story. Taking the daily prompts and trying to weave a vampire story from them! In this chapter, Imogen has some unwelcome visitors bearing bad news.

Word Count: 1496 words.

CW:  Blood, torture, violence, mutilation.

Image found on Google.

Find the previous chapters here!

The knock at the door was repeated, only this time it was more of a crash. Imogen came out of the bedroom in time to see the door fly open, rebound off the wall and hang crooked on its hinges. In the doorway stood two men. One she recognised immediately - the Prince’s Sheriff. The man beside him - a large, glowering man wearing a t shirt that barely contained his muscular torso - she didn’t recognise, but she could guess who he was.

‘Imogen Maddock’, the Sheriff said, striding into the apartment. ‘Fancy seeing you here.’

‘I live here,’ Imogen said blankly.

‘Precisely,’ the Sheriff replied. ‘Considering your wanted status, this is the last place you should be.’

Imogen shrugged moving behind the sofa as if it would shield her from him somehow. ‘It’s been a weird week,’ she replied. ‘I wish I could say it’s good to see you, Rogan, but…’ She shrugged. ‘Who’s your friend?’

‘James here?’ Rogan waved a hand dismissively. ‘No one you need to worry about. Unless I have to worry about you. Sorry about the door, by the way. Didn’t realise it wasn’t latched when I kicked it in.’

Imogen watched him as he strolled around the room, surveying it. He was dressed in black combats and a black tactical jacket. The pockets of the jacket bulged strangely, and Imogen felt quite sure that there were weapons in them. Though it was raining outside, he was hardly wet at all, so he must have a car close by outside. His long black hair was tied at the nape of his neck - ready for action. His dark eyes glittered as they scanned the room. His movements were casual, but she could see the energy in them. He wasn’t here for a chat; he was ready for action. 

His eyes fell on the packages neatly lined up by the door. ‘Going out of town?’ he asked.

Imogen shrugged again. ‘Having a clear out,’ she replied, and he nodded as if it didn’t matter. ‘What can I do for you tonight, Sheriff?’

‘Down to business, eh? Fair enough.’ Rogan stopped pacing and stood facing her. ‘I’m here to take you in, Imogen. The Prince doesn’t like it when his prisoners escape. He especially doesn’t like it when they trash the jail on their way out.’

Imogen frowned, confused. That was me, Eliza whispered, and she nodded. To Rogan she said ‘Sorry about that.’

‘I’m not the one you need to apologise to,’ Rogan replied. ‘And for your sake, I hope you do a better job of it than that.’ He smirked. ‘If that were all he was mad at you about, it might even save you.’

Rolling her eyes, Imogen took the bait. ‘What else is he mad at me for?’

‘I’m so glad you asked.’ Rogan stepped forward, leaning over the back of the armchair. ‘There’s also the guards you killed on the way out, the massacre in Harrogate’s building, and the destruction of Harrogate’s development at Shorne. You might remember that Harrogate and the Prince are quite close, so … well, basically, you’re screwed, love.’

‘Do you have any evidence that either of the attacks on Harrogate were me?’ Imogen asked.

Rogan snorted. ‘Please. You mean other than the CCTV from the building showing you tearing up Harrogate’s security team? I have to say, I am curious to know why you took your box from the catacombs with you.’

I wanted it to look like someone stole you from the crypt, Eliza said. To keep Harrogate off my scent for as long as possible.

Imogen didn’t bother to share this with Rogan. ‘And the construction site?’ she asked.

‘That one we don’t have evidence of,’ Rogan admitted. ‘However, we do have some pretty damning testimony from a friend of yours. I’m surprised you haven’t been wondering where he is, to be honest. I guess your little Nosferatu pet isn’t that important to you after all?’

‘Miro?’ Imogen felt a twist of guilt in her gut. ‘Where is he?’

Rogan smirked and pulled something out of one of his pockets, tossing it across the room at her. Three Polaroid photographs fluttered to the floor between them. Slowly, Imogen walked around the sofa to retrieve them. They were all of Miro. One showed his head and shoulders. He was taped to a chair. Blood dripped out of his mouth and stained the front of his shirt. Where his eyes had been were now empty, charred holes.

‘It took quite a while to get him to talk,’ Rogan commented as she stared at the photo in shock. ‘He was reluctant to implicate you. Tried to talk his way around it. But eventually he admitted it was you he was spying for. Said someone stole you out of the catacombs and he was trying to find out who. Thing is, we know that’s not what happened. Couldn’t get him to change his story on that one, though. Poor little puppy was trying so hard to be loyal to you.’

Imogen gritted her teeth as she looked at the second photo. This one showed Miro’s head from the side. His ear had been torn away and the ear hole was gaping and charred. The third photo was of his open mouth, and the ripped and bloodied root where his tongue had been torn out.

She looked up at Rogan, grief and anger searing her insides. ‘Why?’ she managed to choke out.

‘He’d been poking his nose where it didn’t belong,’ Rogan replied. ‘Frankly he’s lucky they didn’t take that too. The hot poker was the Prince’s idea - he’s old school - but Harrogate was the one who came up with taking out his eyes, ears and tongue. What good is a Nosferatu if he can’t see, hear or speak?’ He chuckled. ‘No more snooping for him.’ 

‘Where is he?’

‘He’s still enjoying the Prince’s hospitality at the moment,’ Rogan replied. ‘Harrogate wanted to release him like that and let him struggle to survive, but the Prince is concerned he’ll cause a Masquerade breach. So for now he’s staying where he is.’ He smiled sweetly. ‘You can see him if you like. You’re going to the same place.’

Imogen tensed, ready to run. Eliza spoke up in her mind. No. you won’t get away. Go with him peacefully. When we get there, let me handle things. And don’t let them know I’m here.

Reluctantly, Imogen forced herself to relax. ‘I’ll get my coat,’ she said.

Rogan looked surprised. ‘What? No begging? No pleading? No fight or flight?’

‘Would it do me any good?’ Imogen asked him.

He pouted. ‘No,’ he replied, ‘But it’d at least be more fun. Oh, very well, come along then.’ He gestured to James, who was still standing motionless in the doorway. ‘But James here will take your arm on the way to the car. You understand why.’

Grabbing her coat from where it lay on the back of the sofa, Imogen regarded James carefully. He looked back at her vacantly, not a hint of emotion crossing his face. She walked up to him and offered her arm. ‘Lead the way, James,’ she said sourly.

His strong fingers closed around her bicep. It was like being grabbed by a mountain. As he pulled her into the corridor, she turned her head back to address Rogan, who was following with a satisfied smile. ‘Close the door after you, if you don’t mind,’ she said. ‘I have couriers coming tomorrow.’

Rogan’s smile faded and he shot her a dirty glance. He pulled the door closed behind him.

The Prince had a large mock-Tudor mansion on the outskirts of town, a sprawling mess of a building that had had so many additions that some people jokingly referred to it as ‘Rose Red’. No one knew for sure if he used it as his haven, but even if a would-be assassin could confirm that he did, it would take them all night just to find the right room. The enormous ballroom was used for the quarterly Courts where all the Kindred of the city would gather to exchange pleasantries, scheme and listen to His Highness’s addresses. Often these addresses involved the punishment of someone for their crimes, real or fabricated (or according to some rumours, imagined by a mentally unstable Prince). Imogen remembered the ballroom from her several visits there, including the last one which had ended with her public staking. 

As the Sheriff’s car pulled up in the mansion’s wide gravel driveway, she repressed a shudder at the sight of its gothic spiked towers and huge, eyelike windows. Rogan’s lackey pulled her out of the car after him, his steely grip on her arm insistent but not rough. She didn’t resist. 

Eliza, she thought, trying not to think of the ballroom where the Prince had forced a stake through her heart, I hope you know what we’re doing.

But it was not the ballroom that she was taken to. 

[g0dcountry]

death was a courtesy to some, but it had found no contentment in isla. it was just a different type of goneness. you're only ever dead until people forget you are, then you're something else. you're nothing. or maybe everything all over again. what a fucking hastle. she cuts a look to a quarter yard away and a body is sauring back first into the pool from a diving board. a wash of chlorine water gurgles over the edge of concrete that they teeter along as they cross the backyard. " barefoot, is more like it, " a beat, bent in half to kick off her stillettos. sooner braving the cold sole-first than ruining deadstock heels. leg: long and lithe, extends over a flurry of stray fists and swears tangling in the grass. boys will be boys, however terrifying. " it's a fratboy minefield out here. " she holds her heels tighter, diverges slightly in the wild cacophany of strangers tackling each other drunkenly but not entirely removing her gaze. it was as if she had been front-rowed into a national geographic tableu: the prowling lioness watching the skimpy little hyenas snag their teeth on anything warm. very suddenly, she was having a fantastic fucking time. or at least, had convinced herself to as the influx of pink whitney had introduced itself to her bloodstream. it's a subtle thing really, the creeping warmth despite her half nakedness — heart pounding hard enough in her chest for two people. everything a little flush around the edges & slightly ajar. isla had become a ( slightly ) drunken scholar. either she caught on fast or she had been caught up to, she cannot differ the answer. would rather not find out until the morning after. sights return to eliza, practically reverberating of all the suns light if you'd jarred it. her overwhelm of joy almost blinded her. " that's one way t'put it, " concise, neither agreeing nor pressing it further. isla was smart, yes, but she wondered what else they said about her. if they thought those things were true to. " so sinclaire plays caesar and we're the circus peanuts .. " pretty & soft enough to throw without causing a dent in the infrastructure of the madness. luke were too tall for napoleonic falicy after all, why not the roman. " real cute. " she wishes briefly that she'd left something in her now empty cup, instead carrying it like dead weight until she could find a trash can. a beat, deer in headlights meets collision. something equally fabulous & ruinous dazzles across features. " when's the wet t-shirt contest? "

— " AT LEAST YOU'LL DIE HAPPY ! ! which is e x a c t l y how i plan to go . " the stars found a home in eliza's eyes , a celestial brilliance sparkling within two black holes . her growing pupils had all but eaten up any green that remained in now-obscured irises . still , despite the elation that rippled within their deep , inky pools , the party animal took a brief moment of pause from the wild antics she had subsequently dragged the lesser versed , wide - eyed doe into . however , much to eliza's delight , that ' deer in the headlights ' daze had begun to dissipate from the other's gaze , and , what remained was a hungry glimmer to match her own .

nodding like a bobblehead — a few dips too many on a neck made of rubber — she chirped , " you catch on fast . . . i guess isla wardwell IS as smart as people say . " not that eliza wasn't already sure of this . aside from their few ( sometimes off - putting ) interactions , mixed with luke & reeve's passing comments , she had painted a picture of isla long before the woman had been given a chance to let any other colors show . fortunately , it seemed , there was more than what meets the eye .

" uuum , D U H !? " an amused giggle danced over the party & disappeared into the night amidst the symphony of other noises clambering on around them . tasting of budding fondness . " wet t-shirt contest , chicken fights , spin the bottle , truth or dare . " she listed them all out , counting down on jittery fingers . " luke likes to turn these things — his parties , i mean — into a sorta . . . i don't know . colosseum ? w e know how boy's can be : uber competitive 'n ish . always B E G G I N G for a show . "

[javiervidal]

where: one man’s trash when: nap time with: @b4d14nd3r​

Working out of One Man’s Trash is hardly a convenient arrangement. Maybe it was a good fit for Eliza, maybe she liked being surrounded with piles of stolen bric-a-brac because it reminded her of her long-past glory days, but as far as Javier’s concerned? It’s mostly junk, and it’s in his way.

Still, he pushes into the building, ready for another few hours of meetings and strategizing, only to realise that not only is Sonny notably absent, but that there is somebody else in here somewhere. Following the sounds of laboured breathing, Javier moves quietly between the shelves, his hand on the grip of the pistol concealed beneath his suit jacket. He isn’t sure who he’s expecting to find concealed behind the counter, but it certainly isn’t a pink-haired youth who is apparently asleep. Raising an eyebrow in disbelief, he delivers a swift kick to the stranger’s sneaker to wake them up. “Long day?” He asks, tone friendly enough, though his smile carries a distinctive edge.

[rye-views]

The Bachelor. Season 26. 7.3/10

I would not recommend this season to my friends. I would not rewatch this season.

Jesse and Clayton seem so similar. Jesse's hands are so distracting to me. He also doesn't have very good leading questions when talking during the live.

Sally leaving was a smart choice.

First ep lovelies: Tessa, Teddi, Serene, Genevieve, and Sarah. By the end lovelies: Teddi, Gabby, a bit Rachel, Serene, a bit Susie.

I think Susie is very down to Earth and can def do better than Clayton. Rachel is really perfect for Clayton imo. They seem head over heels for each other and she def wants to make out too. Gabby grows on me every time she talks.

lmaoo Hilary Duff cameo.

Clayton is just trying to make out with anyone and everyone.

Cassidy was really bad for being so selfish, but Shanae is just dumb. She's horrible for her language and thoughts on ADHD. Her reactions to everything are so awful. She's also so desperate.

Susie looks like Hannah Brown and Debby Ryan. Eliza is Keke Palmer vibes.

I love when people are just supportive of one another. Rachel and Jill saying goodbye was so sweet. I like that Gabby is funny and serious. Gabby has such standards and smarts, it's amazing. I love her so much.

Serene leaving makes me so sad. It's crazy because the women put in so much for Clayton. Seeing any of the hometowns leave is sad.

Susie's shopping experience in Vienna is goals. Her whole date is a dream that I want as well. Serene's hometown date is goals.

I feel like Clayton saying that Susie was listening to him as he was kicking her out wasn't his own observation and producers introduced that thought into his head. He's not aware enough.

Rachel taking care of Gabby as she comes back is more love than she's getting from Clayton.

Clayton's parents are so smart, especially dad.

Susie took her last convo before she left so well. She's processing kinda quickly, being so smart and mature, and communicating well. She was level-headed despite how horrible she might be feeling. He was blaming her and she was blaming herself but it's no one's fault to have not communicated better. She could've said something sure but he didn't have to be so mean and gaslighty. Men being so reactive and explosive to rejection is horrible and so common. I'm glad Susie was self-aware and aware enough to walk away. Rachel and Gabby reacted so well to Clayton treating them like trash. They're so smart and it empowers me.

[rainbowwing251]

Do you have some headcanons for Ryu and Ken from Street Fighter?

This was, without question, the most difficult headcanon list for me to make for any of the Smash characters. Ryu’s headcanons in particular were the hardest part of this entire list.

I haven’t played any of the Street Fighter games, and from my research, I learned that the plot of the franchise is... insane. It’s a little hard for me to follow.

I probably didn’t need to know the plot of the Street Fighter franchise, but I wanted to make sure that my headcanons were as accurate to the plot and the characters as they could be.

Be warned, there may be spoilers for some of the games in the Street Fighters franchise. Be sure to exercise caution as you read these headcanons.

Ryu tends to be neutral about tickling (he doesn’t really like to be tickled, for the most part), but if he gets dragged into a tickle session, he would definitely be a ler.

If you want to tickle him, then I wish you good luck. His just as ticklish as Simon is. If case you don’t remember what I said about Simon, he isn’t that ticklish. Ryu’s ticklishness is identical.

He only has one weak spot on his entire body: his sides. Good luck trying to tickle him there, though. He is a master at protecting himself from tickle attacks.

You won’t get that much of a reaction from him if you tickle him on any spot that isn’t his sides, but he might let out a chuckle sometimes. If you tickle his sides, then he will laugh a bit. Either way, he probably isn’t going to like it, and he’ll try to get you to stop. There are a few people that can get away with tickling him, but I’ll get to that later.

Pinning him down is next to impossible. Most people can’t even get him down on the ground due to how strong he is, but Ken is the exception. He’s one of the few people in the Street Fighter universe who can truly match Ryu’s strength. In Smash, he’s the only one who can pin him down.

Ryu doesn’t squirm while he’s being tickled. If anything, he’ll trash about rather violently. He does this to all of his lers, but there are a few exceptions. If Ken is his ler, then he will try to reduce the trashing so that he doesn’t get hurt. He won’t trash around if he’s being tickled by the younger fighters of Smash, either. He can’t bear the thought of hurting them on accident, since he cares deeply for children.

He doesn’t want to admit to this, but the reason as to why he dislikes tickling is due to the time that he was brainwashed in the Street Fighter Alpha series, and all of the times that he lost control over the Satsui no Hado within him. Of course, tickling is nowhere near as bad as being brainwashed or losing control over the darkness within you, but it can make you laugh uncontrollably. This doesn’t sit well with Ryu at all, because it reminds him of all of the times that he lost control over himself.

The only ler that he has in his home world is Ken. This doesn’t really change when the two of them are in Smash, but on some occasions, the younger fighters of Smash will target him too, especially Young Link.

Ryu doesn’t really care about being a ler, so he doesn’t tickle people that often. However, when he does tickle someone... well, they’ll be in for a surprise. He has a hidden talent for tickling other people, a talent that even he was unaware of until he tickled Ken for the first time.

As Ken will tell you, Ryu has the ability to dig into your worst spots and make it feel as though the tickling is going deep into your skin. Don’t worry, he’s not trying to hurt you. He’s just really good at drilling his fingers into someone’s tickle spots.

If he’s tickling someone like Ness or the Ice Climbers, then he will lighten up his touch. Like I mentioned earlier, he can’t stand the idea of hurting a child, so he will be even more careful with his tickling if he’s tickling someone who’s in that age range.

He doesn’t even need to pin someone down. All he needs to do is hold them close, wrap his arms around them, and let his hands roam free. When he does this, he’ll regularly check in with his lee to make sure that he isn’t hurting them. He knows that he could easily crush someone with his arms, so he will make sure to stop and ask his lee if he is hurting them in any way before he goes back to tickling them.

Ken is the only lee that Ryu has in his home world. He doesn’t willingly go after any of the other fighters in Smash (other than Ken), but if the younger fighters decide to target him, he might turn the tables on them and tickle them.

I don’t know why, but it was really hard for me to come up with headcanons for Ryu.

Ken was a bit easier, but I’m not sure if the upcoming headcanons are good or not. I’ll let you be the judge on that.

Since Ryu is essentially the same as Simon in terms of ticklishness, then Ken is essentially the same as Richter in terms of ticklishness. Basically what I’m saying is that Ken is more ticklish than Ryu is, and he doesn’t dislike tickling as much as he does.

Ken is primarily a ler, but unlike his rival, he does have a lee side, though it doesn’t show itself all that often. His lee moods will only occur in the presence of a trustworthy ally, and even then, it is still entirely dependent on chance.

Ken has more worst spots than Ryu does, and those spots are his underarms, the palms of his hands, and his neck. He prefers to tickled on the last two spots, but you are allowed to tickle his underarms if he knows who you are.

When he gets tickled, his behavior is the opposite of Ryu’s in that he doesn’t thrash. He squirms about instead, though he tries to restrain himself. He knows that he could easily throw his ler off of him, both on purpose and on accident, and he doesn’t want to hurt his ler by doing this. He accidentally did this to Ryu once, and he wasn’t happy with himself for a few days afterward.

Similar to Terry, Ken likes to fight back against his lers by reaching up his hands to tickle them. If he tries to do this to you, target his underarms straight away (if you weren’t doing so already). He’ll quickly clamp his arms down and trap your hands under his arms. Perhaps he could use this as an advantage, but at the same time, it is an effective method of countering Ken’s attempts to turn the tables.

If you don’t pin his legs down, then he will kick them a bit. Be on the look out, because he can kick you on accident, and it will hurt. A lot. It might even send you flying a short distance if he kicks you the right way. None of this will be done on purpose, even if you were a stranger to him (he’ll fight you off if you are a stranger to him, but he won’t punch you or kick you, unless he deems it necessary for his safety).

In his world, Ken’s lers are Ryu and Eliza Masters, his wife. Ryu is still one of Ken’s main lers in Smash, but he will also get targeted by Little Mac from time to time.

As a ler, Ken is very competitive. Much like Little Mac, he will give his lee a chance to fight back against him.

I should warn you that the above statement is true, but it’s only 99% true. The other 1%? This is when Ken gets really competitive, and he will try to keep you pinned down so you can’t do anything but laugh. He won’t let you move, and he won’t let you get him back. If Ken is ever in this mood, you might want to run.

His competitive side won’t come out if his lee is a child like Mel (his son) or Lucas. He usually lets them win if they start a tickle fight with him, worried that he’ll hurt them on accident if he tried to tickle him back. He would also be a little worried about discouraging them from tickling him if he fights back against them. He’s not about to shatter anyone’s confidence, even if it’s unintentional.

Ken doesn’t dig into a person’s worst spots like Ryu does. Instead, he’ll scribble his fingers all over the lee’s body, searching for a spot that will give him the best reactions.

Turning the tables on him can be quite hard, but he will give you the chance to do this by leaving himself open while he tickles you.

His main lee is Ryu, but he will go after Eliza and Mel as well. In Smash, he will continue to target Ryu, but he will also go after the younger fighters too. Out of all of the younger fighters, Lucas is the one that Ken will target the most. He doesn’t have a reason for targeting the young boy (other than cheering him up whenever he feels sad), he just likes to see him happy and laughing his head off.

At long last, I have finally finished my headcanons for Ryu and Ken! I am very sorry for making you wait all this time. There were several reasons as to why this took so long. First, as I mentioned at the beginning of this post, I have never played any of the Street Fighter games. Second, trying to stay true to the characters and their stories/personalities was rather difficult for me to do.

The final reason? Well, to answer that, I’m going to have to make a confession to something, and that confession will be written as a separate post. Don’t worry, the confession has nothing to do with you at all!

[duckymcdoorknob]

Hi amazing person!!!! You haven’t written in, like, ever! Can I please have some ticklish Schuyler sisters?🥺💗

Daddy Doesn’t Need to Know

Warning! This is a tickle fic!

Warnings: tickling

Ships: None! they are siblings >:(

Prompt: as the sisters sneak downtown, Peggy is worried about her father’s reaction. She feels obligated to tattle, until her older sisters find a way to keep her quiet...

Margarita Schuyler let her brown eyes drink in the world around her. She was standing in the center of the greatest city in the world. As she continued to take in her surroundings, she grew apprehensive. Should she really be doing this?

Her sisters, Angelica and Eliza, took her hands and dragged her along.

“Come on, Pegs. Daddy doesn’t need to know!” Angelica groaned.

“Guys come on! I don’t think we should be here!” Peggy whined.

The trio made their way through downtown, greeting friendly commoners, purchasing from street vendors and just basking in the great outdoors.

“Excuse me miss, I know it’s not funny, but your perfume smells like your daddy’s got money.” A voice sounded from behind them.

Angelica rolled her eyes and let the voice ramble on.

“Why’re you slummin in the city with your fancy heels?”

Peggy was about to interject, who is this guy and what does he know about their lives?

“Burr you disgust me.” Angelica replied simply.

Peggy shook her head. Wait a minute, she knows him?

“I’m a trust fund baby, you can trust me.” The man dubbed, ‘Burr’ responded.

Oh this’ll be good.

Angelica respectfully ripped Burr a new one, talking about her beliefs and knowledge.

“Hey, Ignore him. Look around at how lucky we are to be alive right now!” Eliza interrupted.

“But look around at what we’re not supposed to see! What if daddy finds out?!” Peggy cried.

“Daddy won’t find out... will he?” Angelica responded with a cocked eyebrow.

“I don’t know, I don’t know! I feel like I should tell him because I’ll feel so guilty and-“ Peggy began to ramble

“No way sis, you aren’t ratting us out, are you?” Eliza pondered with disbelief.

“N-no! I’d never! But I don’t want to hurt daddy like this...” Peggy trailed off with her speech, not daring say another word.

“Well Eliza, I think we have quite the ethical dilemma in our hands.” Angelica finally piped up.

“Oh yes. Quite the predicament.” Eliza responds with a grin, picking up what Angelica was putting down.

“Why are you talking like that? ...What’s wrong?” Peggy began to back away. She was soon grabbed by her arm and dragged to a nearby, quiet park. “H-hey! What gives?”

“Peggy we can’t have you telling daddy on us. We need to make sure we can trust in your silence.” Angelica said quietly.

“You can!! Just tell me what’s going on?” Peggy whined from the absence of information.

Within a second, Angelica had already grabbed Peggy and armlocked her arms above her head.

“Angelica? What’re you doing?!” Peggy said as she struggled to move. To her imminent demise, she could not.

“She told you earlier, Pegs. You need to stay quiet. And we’re going to make sure of it.” Eliza cooed as she made her way towards Peggy.

Peggy kicked her legs in the grass as Angelica sat them down on the ground. She prepared for the hit from her sister, but it never came. Instead, she found herself fighting off the giggles bubbling up in her. “E-Eliza! Don’t d-do that!”

Eliza lightly chuckled as she traced light circles on Peggy’s arms. The soft fabric of Peggy’s dress could only shield her for so long. Eliza dragged her finger down Peggy’s arm.

“Dohohohont youhohoho dahahahare.” Peggy muttered as giggles poured out of her.

Eliza spidered her fingers in Peggy’s exposed underarm.

“ELIHIHIHIZAHAHAHA!” Peggy trashed around to avoid the unbearable feeling.

“Swear that you’ll keep quiet and it’ll stop!” Eliza exclaimed quietly.

“Nehehehehever!” Peggy spoke as she writhed around.

“Well, don’t say we didn’t warn you.” Angelica interjected as she tightened her grip.

Eliza skittered her fingers in Peggy’s underarm, then moved to rake her nails on the poor girl’s side.

“WAIHAIHIT! ELIHAHAHAZAHAHA!” Peggy cried.

Eliza ignored her and continued in her work.

Angelica held her grip super tight and blew on the back of the girl’s neck.

Poor Peggy could only sit in agony within her sisters’ evil grasp. “I WOHOHOHOHOHONT TEHEHEHELL! I WOHOHOHONT!”

“Hmmm. Do you trust her, Liza?” Angelica inquired.

“Nope!” Eliza chimed as she brought both of her hands down to squeeze at Peggy’s sides.

“ELIHIHIHIZAHAHAHAHA!” Peggy screeched.

Angelica chuckled and carefully laid Peggy on the ground, then put her knees gently on her forearms.

“AHAHAHANGEHEHELIHIHICAHAHA DOHOHOHOHOHONT YOHOHOHOU DAHAHAHAHARE!” Peggy screeched as Eliza squeezed at her sides.

Angelica ignored her sister’s plea and spidered her fingers in both of Peggy’s underarms.

Peggy’s hands squeezed into fists and she laid immobile on the soft grass.

“IHIHIHIHI PROHOHOHOHOHOMIHIHIHISE! IHIHIHIHI WOHOHOHOHONT TEHEHEHEELL!”

“I don’t believe you~!” Angelica chimed. “Come on Pegs, you’ve had this coming fo-“

Peggy cut off Angelica by using her free hands to squeeze her sides.

“P-Peggy. Think of the position you’re in.” Angelica bit her lip to stifle her giggles.

Eliza lifted her attack and waited to see what would go down.

“You won’t be able to do anything once I get you.” Peggy panted through her words.

“Oh yeah? Let’s see.” Angelica eyeballed Eliza, then Peggy’s stomach. Eliza nodded and assumed her position.

Angelica continued her attack with twice as much vigilance. Eliza switched between squeezing Peggy’s stomach and squeezing her sides.

Peggy screamed instantly and attempted to get Angelica back. Her hands reached Angelica’s aides and squeezed on their own

“Youhohoho wohohohohont gehehehet mehehehe Pehehehegs.” Angelica giggled as she continued to skitter her fingers under Peggy’s arms.

Soon all three sisters were laughing, for Eliza chuckled along at the sight before her.

“OKAHAHAHAHAHAHY! IHIHIHI GIHIHIHIHIVE! NOHOHOHOHO MOHOHOHOHOHREHEHEHE!” Peggy screeched.

Eliza and Angelica both stopped abruptly and helped Peggy to her feet.

“You two...” Peggy began but stopped to catch her breath, “are assholes.”

Eliza gasped.

“Margarita Schuyler! We don’t use that kind of language!” Angelica rose her voice in a joking manner.

“Oh shi-“

Soon Angelica and Eliza were wrecking their sister once more.

[ravenforce]

Ithaca Pt. 3

Word Count: 4126

Warning/s: None

A/N: Hey loves, sorry it took a while. Writing Natasha comes easy to me. The truth is I finished the first draft of this, weeks ago but something about it just doesn’t sit right with me. I searched for it for weeks but ultimately decided to trash the whole thing and start again. I didn’t mean it to come to 4k words but apparently, it’s fun writing Carol too.

This is the last POV I’m writing for Ithaca. Next chapter we go back to you, dear Reader. I hope you like this, please let me know what you think of it. xx

PS. If there are any grammatical mistakes I’ve still overlooked, I apologize.

Parts: 1 | 2 | 4 | 5

***

5:00 AM

Carol woke up to the continuous vibration of her phone under her pillow. She let out a quiet groan before reaching under and hitting the snooze button. She knew, even with her sleep-addled brain, that going back to sleep is futile. So, slowly, Carol rolled on her back and opened her eyes to see the glow in the dark stars she and Natasha put up in her ceiling when they were ten. Carol has always been an early riser too, even before she moved to Ithaca.

Carol’s parents are both pilots for the air force. They used to live in the base, and sleeping to the sounds of fighter jets warming up or speeding on a nearby runway made Carol a light sleeper. She tried a handful of times to sleep through all the ruckus but failed. So instead of wasting her time trying to get some more sleep, Carol learned how to used the early start to her advantage. Either she would be found training basic self-defense with her mom at the gym, or she’s out flying with her dad in morning flying drills.

When both her parents died on a mission, Carol was to be put into a foster home before the Danvers’ came and adopted her. Eliza and Jeremiah Danvers both used to work at the base and are close friends with her parents. When they found out Carol’s an orphan, they both decided to come back and talk to Carol if she would like to live with them instead. Carol agreed reluctantly but she found the prospect of being with Eliza and Jeremiah better than being with complete strangers. She was hesitant though because the Danvers already have two children, Alex and Kara.

Carol dreaded moving to Ithaca because she never knew how to interact with other children and suddenly she would be living with not just one but two adolescents. Fortunately for her, Alex and Kara are amazing sisters. Kara’s clumsy, funny, and sweet while Alex is a bit reserved but fiercely loyal and protective of her and Kara. And even though, Kara and Alex both work and live in National City now, she’s still very close to both of them. Carol didn’t think she’d ever recover with the death of her parents but Ithaca gave her not just the Danvers’ but also the Avengers.

Carol smiled at the fake stars on her ceiling as she remembers the first time she met them.

In a small town like Ithaca, everyone seems to know everyone. As the only new face in school, Carol was an easy target for bullies. On her first day in school, an older boy named Yonn shoved Carol off causing her to fall to the side. Thankfully, someone caught her. Carol looked up and saw a petite girl with red hair and the greenest eyes she’s ever laid eyes on, frowning at the boy who shoved her. 

“Apologize to her Yonn,” the redhead said calmly as Carol tries to straighten her school uniform. 

“And why would I do that? She’s in my way, Natasha,” Yonn answered smugly. 

Carol watched silently as the two stared down one another. She focuses more on the girl named Natasha because even though she’s clearly smaller than the boy, she doesn’t seem afraid. 

“Apologize. Now,” Natasha repeated seriously. Her melodic voice clearly held a degree of authority that Yonn and everyone in the vicinity can recognize. 

Yonn sneered before apologizing through his teeth. 

“What was that? Say it again,” Natasha said smiling. Carol, in an instant, was captivated. 

Yonn sneered again before taking a menacing step forward and towards Natasha but a group of young boys stepped between the two. 

“Is there a problem here?” A boy with clean-cut hair and boy-next-door face asked, seizing up Yonn. 

“Natasha?” A handsome boy with long blonde hair asked. 

“Yonn’s just apologizing for shoving my friend, Thor,” Natasha answered without hesitation.

Carol’s heart fluttered wildly in her chest. The boys looked at Carol for a second before turning towards Yonn again.

“Shove her again, and you’ll find yourself kissing the ground she’s standing on,” Thor said seriously.

Carol watched in awe at how these kids can be so intimidating at eight years old.

“I think you broke him, guys. Yonn, nod if you agree,” a boy holding some sort of tech on his hand says before Yonn deftly nodded his head. 

“Now, scram,” a boy with long black hair said, which prompted Yonn out of his trance and power walked to the opposite side of the building. 

When Yonn was out of sight, the hallway seems to have released a collective breath that they’re holding. The girl named Natasha adjusted her school bag before turning towards Carol. Toe-to-toe with Natasha, Carol realized how tiny she is. Carol couldn’t help the small smile on her face. Carol tried not to squirm at how Natasha was looking at her. 

“You appear to be physically fine,” Natasha assessed. “But are you alright?”

“You broke my fall. Thank you, by the way,” Carol said sincerely. Sure, she could take Yonn by herself but Natasha coming to her rescue is still very much appreciated.

“You’re welcome. I’m Natasha,” Natasha introduced herself before extending her hand. Carol didn’t hesitate when she reached out and shook it. Natasha smiled at her again.

“I’m Carol, Carol Danvers.” Then someone coughed behind them, Natasha rolled her eyes. 

“And these are my friends. This is Steve, Thor, Thor’s brother Loki, Clint, and Tony,” Natasha introduced everyone. Carol thanked all of them for stepping up for her. 

“It’s nothing, Yonn is annoying,” Tony said after closing the tech on his hand. 

“And I believe it’s high time, Natasha gets a girl friend,” Loki said, voice teasing. 

Carol understood that Loki meant a female friend but Loki’s teasing got the better of her and she started blushing. Natasha saw this and smirked at her before linking their arms together and tugging Carol to the direction of the cafeteria. 

“Welcome to the Avengers,” Natasha whispered.

Carol blinked back to the present when she saw the light on Natasha’s bedroom flickered from across the street. Today’s the day, Natasha will giving the transfer student the grounds tour. In true Natasha fashion, she’s up even before the sun could come up to make sure she never misses ballet practice. Even though, they’re not extremely close anymore due to conflict of school schedules, and people constantly being adopted to their group, Carol would be caught dead before she let Natasha roam the streets at such an early hour alone. Ironic though because Natasha’s a founding family child, which means she knows the town like the back of her own hand and no one in their right mind would so much as think of touching a hair on her head.

6:00 AM

Carol watched as Mrs. Miller made polite small talk with Natasha before waving her inside the studio. Mrs. Miller then turned to look directly at the huge plant box she knew Carol was hiding behind. Carol stepped out of the shadow before walking towards the guard post. 

“Good morning, Carol,” Mrs. Miller greeted quietly as not to alert Natasha of the blonde’s presence outside. 

“Good morning, ma’am,” Carol whispered back before pulling out a thermos of hot coffee she brewed at home. 

Mrs. Miller has been stationed guard at the studio for almost two decades, and she’s been holding on to Carol’s secret for just as long now. Carol’s popularity is hugely based on her very charming personality but a part of it was from her reputation as a philanderer. As a serial heart breaker, Carol’s not known to be soft, romantic, and never one to get attached to anyone. She’s the hot soccer team captain who gets any girl she likes, and bolt comes the early morning light. No one has ever known Carol to stay the night but Mrs. Miller - basically a stranger - knows something no one does.

“If you’ve only been as tenacious as you have as protecting her,” Mrs. Miller started but Carol cut her off with a soft sigh. 

“There’s no point,” Carol said dejectedly before the clock tower interrupted her.

“Thank you for the coffee, Carol,” Mrs. Miller said sincerely. She knew it’s time for Carol to go. 

“Thank you for looking after us,” Carol answered as solemnly before shouldering her backpack and walking towards the soccer field.

***

Popularity can be blinding, Carol and Natasha thought so a long time ago. So to both stay grounded they both train at their respective choice of activity every other morning, with one as a lookout for the other. Clearly, they both carried on with the tradition but separately. They did it for ten years, and then they don’t. Somewhere between then and now, Carol and Natasha fell off the cracks.

Sure, they still belong to the same group, eats at the same table, hang out at the same places but they both know they lost each other in a more meaningful way. Carol arrived at the field but suddenly she wasn’t in the mood to kick some balls. So, instead, she dropped her bag on the grass and used it as a pillow. The sky is still dark, the sounds of crickets and cicadas are still there if she focuses long enough. Something about Mrs. Miller’s words put Carol in a somber mood.

In the silence of the early morning, Carol closed her eyes and released everything she’s been holding to in a sigh. “I miss you,” she whispered like a prayer to the universe. Without hope or anything that it would be heard by the person, she wanted to say it to. When she opened her eyes, the sky has turned a beautiful shade of light blue.

“Burning the morning oil, Captain,” Valkyrie’s confident voice floated from above her head. Just like that Carol's time is over, just like that Carol’s mask is up again. She sat up, composed herself before turning towards her friend and smiled.

“Good morning to you too, Val,” Carol teased before hauling herself to her feet.

“Crew’s at the Applebee’s for breakfast. Walk with me? Since you’re clearly not practicing anyway.”

Carol let out an adulterated laugh, and Valkyrie, try as she might, she couldn’t help the blush that dusted her perfectly brown skin after hearing that melodic laugh and knowing that she caused it. Of course, Carol noticed but even though she knows that the other woman is attracted to her, Carol had resolved never to engage except for very light flirting. She couldn’t really handle one more complicated friendship, after all.

7:00 AM

Applebee’s was buzzing with the morning rush but when Val and Carol stepped inside the establishment, they can immediately pinpoint the location of their friends by the sheer commanding voice of Thor booming around the restaurant.

“Must you boys be so loud?” Carol teased before flopping down between Maria and Loki.

“Oh, Carol. We’re just relishing a morning without Natasha’s grumpy ass,” Steve answered teasing. Carol frowned, clearly not appreciating the joke.

Maria, ever the intuitive one, looked up from her textbook to look at Carol and offer her an assuring smile, which helped diffuse Carol’s rising foul mood.

“I’ll make sure Nat knows you called her a grumpy ass, Steve,” Wanda mock threatened the jock before joining the table.

Steve gasped before the table erupted in laughter. Every Avenger is popular and badass by their own merit but no one, absolutely no one would ever dare go against or speak ill of Natasha. She’s a force of nature on her own, everyone else is just glitter; at least that’s how Carol thinks so.

Carol tore a piece of bread and threw it on Steve’s face, which earned more giggles. “Oh! You’ll be in trouble, Steven,” Carol teased and grinned before taking a bite off her bagel sandwich.

Steve stuck his tongue out like a child. “Speaking of which, where’s Natasha, anyway?” he asked trying to diffuse the situation off.

“I believe she’s off giving Maria and Tony’s friend, the transfer student, the ground tours,” Thor answered before leaning back on his chair and sipping his tall glass of orange juice.

“Oh!” Steve exclaimed. “That’s today? I can’t wait to meet the girl who bested the Tony Stark on his own company.”

“Haha. Very funny, Steven,” Tony quipped sarcastically without looking up from the tech he’s been fixing all morning.

“I heard she’s pretty,” Loki said, clearly intrigued by the newcomer who he knows will be added in the mix if her reputation as beautiful and genius precedes her.

Wanda hurriedly chewed down her pancakes before clapping her hands in excitement. “She is! I was able to persuade Maria to show me a picture, and man, she’s stunning.”

Carol watched her friends interact quietly and wonder how this new girl would par in terms of getting along and fitting in their own crazy little group. Will she fall with the silent types along with Natasha, Clint, Loki, and Maria? Or would she fit better with the extroverts like Steve, Thor, and Valkyrie?

“I’m excited to meet her. Mar, please tell me you invited her to lunch?” Thor asked excitedly.

Maria only smiled and shrugged before going back to her assigned reading.

“What’s the fuss? No one can be that perfect,” Valkyrie said matter-of-factly, which halted the conversation in the table almost immediately.

Carol quickly glanced at Maria. If Valkyrie was baiting for a fight early in the morning, she’s surely not getting it because getting a rise out of Maria is like getting Natasha to be responsive.

“The first mistake you can make before meeting Y/N is to think that she’s perfect. She’s not; she’s scarred and flawed but she’s special,” Tony said seriously before Maria can say anything else.

Carol cleared her throat to diffuse the tension in the air. “You’re right, T. We shouldn’t put the girl on a box.” Carol started seriously before breaking into a grin. “Besides, we all know, only Tasha’s that perfect.”

Carol looked smug. Steve nodded, Tony just shrugged, Wanda giggled, Valkyrie rolled her eyes while the Odinson brothers just smiled. And just like that, the bad air is gone.

8:30 AM

In the end, Natasha didn’t show up for breakfast, which was odd because everyone knows that she hates doing Clint’s job and giving grounds tour. Only Carol and Maria has a 9 AM class, so Carol drove them back to school in her motorcycle. Carol intentionally slowed her movement the moment Maria hopped off her bike and handed her the extra helmet Carol lent her.

“You know you’re gonna be late for class again, right?” Maria said after fixing her braided hair.

Carol smiled before locking her bike up. “I know but can you blame me? Bruce’s class is capital b-o-r-i-n-g,” Carol defended.

Maria shook her head and smiled. “Sure but I know what you’re doing,” Maria said before walking towards the school.

Carol squinted before jogging up to catch up to Maria.

“You should stop trying to get a rise out of Nat. It’s not helping your cause,” Maria said smiling.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Carol denied but Maria knows from the smile on her face that Carol knows exactly what she’s talking about.

Maria was thirteen when she moved to Ithaca and joined the Avengers. She wasn’t privy to their childhood and Maria wasn’t one to gossip but she knows that Carol was Natasha’s best friend since they were eight. Along the way, the two went on a rough patch that they seem to be still recovering from. It doesn’t help that Carol likes teasing and deliberately doing the things she knows Natasha would hate.

The two engaged in small talk until they arrived at Maria’s classroom. “See you later, Danvers,” Maria said before putting her hand for a high-five. Carol immediately indulged her.

***

Carol grimaced at the watch as she reads the time. She still hasn’t seen Natasha since she left her at the studio but she didn’t want to give the other the satisfaction by texting to know where the hell she is.

‘Tasha’s a grown woman,’ Carol thought to herself before looking up and seeing Minerva a few feet away. 

Carol looked at her reflection on the glass adjacent to her before flashing an all too big, all too fake smile. She walked the small distance between her and Minerva, who is talking to a boy Carol doesn’t know. 

“Hey,” Carol greeted from behind Minerva.

“Danvers,” Minerva answered without facing her. The boy looked between the two before quickly excusing himself.

Minerva turned on the spot to look at Carol. “Aren’t you late for class?”

“Yes. So, why bother? Besides, don’t you miss me?” Carol asked batting her long eyelashes and pouting. 

Minerva looked at her from head to toe before smirking. “It’s too early for a booty call, Danvers.”

Carol let out an unadulterated laugh. “Fair enough but how about later after school?” Carol asked, stepping inside Minerva’s personal space. In one stride, Carol has closed the gap between them and has the other woman pressed against her toned body and the locker behind her. 

“Danvers!” A voice Carol would know anywhere growled a few feet away. 

Carol groaned in fake exasperation but internally she’s smiling from ear to ear. “Tasha,” she said sweetly without stepping away from Minerva. Natasha, as expected, didn’t smile back. She only grimaced and glared until Minerva pushed Carol away.

“This again?” Minerva murmured as she rounded Carol to get to her classroom but the blonde girl couldn’t hear or see anything else. She’s laser-focused on Natasha and Natasha alone. 

“You’re ten minutes late already,” Nat started when she’s alone in the hallway with Carol. “And your class is on the other side of the campus.”

Carol ignored the fact that Natasha still knows her schedule. She walked towards the redhead until she’s toe to toe with Natasha. Natasha didn’t step back, she’s used to Carol always invading her personal space. 

“I got that class in the bag, Tasha. Relax,” Carol whispered before leaning in, kissing Natasha close to her mouth, and running away. 

***

Carol’s grinning from ear to ear as she floats all the way to the other side of the campus. She’s still thinking of how Natasha’s face has turned a good shade of tomato just before Carol sprinted away. Carol’s pretty sure it’s a combination of a blush and Natasha’s rising anger. She couldn’t help but chuckle to herself, just as she enters Bruce’s classroom. Bruce stops mid-discussion after Carol not so silently barged into class.

“Ah! Miss Danvers, glad you’re able to join us today,” Bruce said. “And only twenty minutes late.”

Carol was ripped from her high as everyone’s laughter reached her ears.

She refused to be made to feel bad about a decision she deliberately made. So, she joined in the laughter before looking at her teacher.

“Sorry, Mr. Banner but it’s the meet season,” Carol half-lied before quickly scanning the room for an empty seat. Her eyes landed on the empty seat next to the only face she doesn’t know in class. Carol was completely caught off-guard. They just talked about how Maria’s friend, the transfer student’s pretty but Carol thought as she stood there that ‘pretty’ is an understatement.

“Get it together, Danvers and sit already,” Bruce sighed. Carol blinked back to reality before smiling at Bruce and sprinting up the stairs to her seat.

“Hi, I’m Carol. Carol Danvers,” she introduced herself with a genuine smile.

“Hi, Y/N. Y/N Y/L/N,” she whispered, eyes still trained upfront.

Carol docked her head to hide the smile on her face as she finds Y/N pretending to be listening to Bruce really adorable.

“Nice to meet you,” Carol tried to whisper back

Y/N threw her a side glance to acknowledge her but quickly turned back to the lesson. Or at least, try because Carol was adamant about talking to her. The moment their eyes met, Carol decided she wants to get to know her outside of Maria and Tony’s stories.

“Maria can’t stop talking about you,” Carol tried to get Y/N’s attention again.

This time, it worked. “You know Maria?” Y/N asked quietly.

Carol smiled but before she could utter another word, Bruce shut the book on his hand loudly. Y/N turned her eyes and body forward as fast as she could, Carol didn’t take her eyes off the girl.

“Care to include us in your discussion, girls?” Bruce said all the way down from the podium.

Carol smiled as she watches Y/N try to shrink herself on her seat to avoid Bruce's wrath. Carol on the other hand just kept smiling like an idiot.

“I’m sorry, Dr. Banner but I just couldn’t believe I’m sitting next to a MENSA student,” Carol said.

The room was filled with the murmur of approval.

“Why do you sound so impressed Carol?”

“Yeah, you’re friends with Tony Stark. Isn’t he a MENSA student too?”

A few kids in the class asked aloud but Carol ignored them. Carol finally turned her head to look at Bruce. He didn’t look impressed, his mouth is set on a thin line. Carol held the laugh that tried to escape her. The face Bruce makes every time he gets angry rarely gets the class in line. Natasha’s daily poker face gets better results on striking fear in the heart of people than Bruce at his most angry. 

“I know that she’s Mensa, Carol that’s why I left that seat for you. So you can, maybe draw some inspiration and put an effort into this class,” Bruce deadpanned, which only made the classroom roar again with laughter.

“Well,” she started before blatantly checking Y/N out. “I can already feel the inspiration coming.”

The laughter was instantly replaced by groaning. Bruce literally facepalmed himself while Y/N blushed profusely on her seat and avoiding eye contact.

See, Carol is known to be a notorious flirt but at that moment, she wasn’t trying to bait Y/N. She meant it as a genuine compliment.

[its-always-the-witching-hour]

Chapter 5 of Apocalyptic Au - Sanders Sides

Word count - 1422

Pairings - Some platonic stuff, but nothing major

Warnings - (spoilers) panic attacks, zombies, blood, a bit of self doubt

Characters - Virgil Tempest, Roman Regalis, Logan Thesis, Patton Chastity

Previous chapter - Next chapter

“Pat, you are one of the best and sweetest beings in existence, but for the love of all things Disney, could you please hurry up!?”

“Sorry kiddo,” Paton giggled as he stuffed his possessions into a rucksack, “but I’m going as fast as I can.”

“Roman, please do as some people say, and ‘chill’” Logan looked over at the person in question, who was bouncing up and down with unrestraint energy.

“No can do, pocket calculator, I am going to see my brother today, and I literally can’t wait, so can we go already?”

“…and done! Let’s go!” Patton slung the bag over his shoulder and joined the others.

“Yes!” Roman took off, sprinting ahead of the others.

“Does he know where we’re going?” Virgil, who was slightly alarmed at Roman’s eagerness, asked the others, “because I’m pretty sure I came from over there,” he pointed in the opposite direction of where Roman was currently running at top speed, which was slightly faster than the average dog.

“You are correct that you came from over there, Anxiety. I am not entirely sure that Roman knows that either.”

“I’ll go get him.” Patton started to jog after the overly enthusiastic teen, when Virgil grabbed his arm and pulled him gently back.

“Not yet, I – uh, it’s just,” Virgil sighed and looked away, “what if Remus is actually dead, and Roman will think that it’s my fault because I ran away, and it’s actually probably my fault because I left them and Roman will hate me and you guys will hate me and I’ll have no where to go so I will probably die of starvation or get eaten by the zombies, or, or,” he realized he was hyperventilating, and Patton and Logan were looking at him with concern.

“Anxiety, even if the worst did happen, we wouldn’t kick you out. You’re our friend, even if we haven’t known you for very long.” Patton tried to hug Virgil, but he flinched away at the first touch of Patton’s hands. “Please kiddo…”

Virgil started to rake his hands through his hair, pulling at it harshly. “You don’t understand; it ALWAYS ends up like this, with me running away from the things that matter.”

Logan gently took Virgil’s hands, and held them in front of him to prevent him from pulling at his hair.

“Anxiety, look at me.” Virgil slowly raised his head up to meet Logan’s calm gaze. “We are not mad at you, and we will never force you to try and survive on your own. You will always be welcome with us. Now, could you please hug Patton while I go get Roman.”

Virgil nodded mutely, and allowed himself to be pulled into an embrace by Patton, his shoulders shaking as silent tears ran down his face. It seemed like they stood there for eternity, with Patton rubbing soothing circles on Virgil’s back as he sucked in heaving breaths, attempting to get his breathing under control.

“What did I miss?” Roman, who was slightly out of breath stood next to them, watching with a mix of confusion and concern.

“Uh, nothing.” Virgil backed out of the hug, wiping furiously at his eyes. Patton looked slightly disappointed that the hug had ended, but gave Virgil his respective space.

“We were just waiting for you, Roman.” Patton smiled brightly at him, but he still didn’t look convinced.

“Okay? Well, can we go now? This time Anxiety can lead, because he knows where Remus is.”

Virgil, who was still feeling the effects of the panic attack, tried to gather his emotions and put on a calm look. “Sure, if I remember the way, that is.”

“Let’s go!”

 ------

“Where are we?”

“For the last time, I don’t know!”

“Kiddo, try to calm down.”

“No Patton, you don’t understand; Dee and Remus could be in serious trouble right now!”

“Anxiety, it would be highly unlikely that in this short amount of time something as bad as you are thinking of has happened.”

Virgil stopped in his tracks and spun around to face Logan. “Have you forgotten that the last time I saw them we were being chased by zombies!? Or do you just not care?”

“Kiddo, breathe.” Patton placed a hand on Virgil’s arm, “Logan didn’t mean it that way. He was just saying to think of positive outcomes instead of just negative ones.”

“Sorry Logan.”

“It’s okay, Anxiety, I know that you are just worried.”

“That’s an understatement.” Virgil muttered under his breath as they all started walking again.

“Hey, Anxiety, do you recognize any of the buildings around here?” Roman, who had been walking in silent determination up until that point gestured at the houses surrounding them.

“Well, this building style does look kind of familiar, I think I have been around here once.” Virgil tried to remember when he had seen the type of architecture that surrounded him, but the memory eluded him.

“Guys? I don’t think we’re alone…” Patton whispered, causing everyone to freeze.

“Are you sure?” Roman hissed back, “It might have just been a bird.”

“No!” Patton insisted quietly, “I saw human shaped shadows down an ally back there, and I heard something that definitely wasn’t an animal.”

A heavy knot of fear had now formed in Virgil’s stomach, and he was finding it hard to breathe. “Patton? I-I think I’m having a panic attack.” Patton’s head whipped around and locked eyes with Virgil, who was starting to shake violently.

“Roman, could you, carefully, look around to see if anything dangerous is watching us? If there is anything, do not try and fight it. You know how well that ended up last time. Logan, help me get Anxiety out of here to a safer place.”

“Got it.” Roman snuck off with a sheepish expression, which in a different situation would have caused Virgil to actually crack a smile.

Patton stood protectively on one side of Virgil and Logan on the other as they slowly continued their way down the open street, glancing at every area something zombie-sized could potentially hide. They were barely halfway down the road when Roman came sprinting up to them at top speed, his eyes wild with fear and a little excitement.

“Guys! I found a sword!” He brandished it in front of him, causing the others to back away in order to not get stabbed.

“Why was there a random sword lying in the street?” Logan asked, disbelief written all over his face.

“I found it in an ally. There were also a lot of zombies there, which is why I was running, did I mention that?”

“Why didn’t you tell us that first!”

“I thought the sword would be more interesting…”

“Roman, we are literally in the middle of a zombie apocalypse, and you thought that mentioning the fact we were being stalked by some wasn’t interesting!” Virgil yelled, causing Roman to look guilty.

“Now that you mention it-”

“Oh NOW you see the danger we are in! It hadn’t occurred to you before?”

“Please stop fighting! If Roman is right, we need to get out of here fast! You can continue this argument another time if it is that important to you, but right now we need to run!” Patton grabbed Virgil’s arm and started half dragging him down the street, forcing him to run. Logan did the same with Roman, and soon they were running as fast as they could, with a now growing horde of zombies following.

“Over here! Let’s hide in this gas station!” Roman, who had broken free from Logan was gesturing wildly at the others as they ran over to him. Patton and Virgil wove through the aisles towards the middle of the store while Roman and Logan used fallen shelves and bits of timber from the crumbling roof to barricade every entryway to the store.

“I-I recognize this place.” Virgil realized, standing up suddenly, “This is where I hid yesterday with Remus and Devan! They might still be here!”

Roman quickly turned around at the mention of his brother, and jogged over to Virgil. “We should start looking for them immediately!” he grabbed Virgil’s arm in excited hope, who shook him off just as fast.

“… no need.” Logan’s voice, heavy with disappoint and sadness came from the cash register. “I think I may have found them.”

The others rushed over to where Logan was standing. On the floor in front of him were two people, their clothes ripped and covered in blood, but still unmistakably Remus and Devan.

Tag list!

@pastelbootybomb @firey-alex @phoenixdoesstuff @aimasup @yesicanbelieveitsnotbutter @dierotenixe @astraheart04 @lovelilijazunde @feralratt @elementalshadowwitch @sanderssidesocfanstuff @oofmood @holliberries @authorized-trash @decentsanders @cass-withsass @amintyworld @sanderssidesweirdo @its-logan-appreciation-day @contemplativespectrum  @cattail-breeze  @notkolaidoscop @xsoftangelx@mtgsaske @the-melody-of-eliza @awesomefanderhufflepotato

[anneshirlxy]

Sorting the awae characters into Hogwarts Houses

Because I’m trash and I have opinions

❤️Gryffindor❤️

Anne Shirley Cuthburt- Anne is a Gryffindor! She’s brave and and chivalrous. She fights for whats right! I see a lot of people putting her in Ravenclaw, and yes she is very smart. However Anne is very much someone who acts before she thinks, which is definitely more Gryffindor.

Minnie May Berry- this child went up to a criminal and kicked him! I also feel like she’s going to end up being a rebellious teenager (even more so then Diana because she won’t lie about it) as she has no care for propriety. Big Gryffindor vibes

Moody Spurgeon- I feel like Moody’s a Neville Longbottom type character. It’s doesn’t seem like he would be a Gryffindor, hes a bit of an underdog and expected to be In Hufflepuff, but the sorting hat (in this case me) sees how brave he is.

Philippa Gordon- she may not be in awae, but she’s still one of my favorite characters in the series (kinda mad she won’t be brought to screen). I feel like if you’ve read the books you understand why I put her here.

Mary Lacroix- she is just so strong and powerful! Like she raised a child on her own, I mean really can’t get more brave then that. Also look at how she treated bash when she first met him, she takes no shit!

💙Ravenclaw💙

Winifred Rose- women of her financial status often didn’t work. Winifred was obviously very smart and academically focused (I imagine her family life was a bit like Diana’s and she had to fight for her position at Dr. Wards)

Diana Berry- look at my bby girl! Fighting for her education! She just wants to learn! Also blue is her color.

Ka’kwet- another icon who just wanted to go to school. I mean because people are awful it didn’t work out, but she is such a bright girl.

Murial Stacy- I don’t think I have to explain this one.

John Blythe- we don’t really know that much about him but he was reading Walt Whitman on hes death bed.

💛Hufflepuff💛

Gilbert Blythe- I feel like Gilbert could have been a Slytherin or a Ravenclaw, but I put him in Hufflepuff for 3 reasons. 1. He is definitely honest and loyal. He defends his friends and family constantly. 2. He is very hardworking. I think that he had a Slytherin momment when he considered going the easy way by marrying Winifred for his ambitions, but he ended up going agianst it for his heart (a Hufflepuff move) 3. I’m a Hufflepuff and I’m selfish. He would look so cute in yellow though!

Cole Mackenzie- Hufflepuff artist boy, need I say more

Mathew Cuthbert- I mean i think it’s obvious...

Marilla Cuthbert- she values loyalty and hard work a lot. Also I think the Cuthberts were probably a majority Hufflepuff family.

Ruby Gillis- literal baby. Agian, no explanation needed

Bash Lacroix- he loves his family so much! He’s got such a big heart and works so hard!

Thomas Lynde- we don’t really know much about him, but he seems nice and really just lets Rachel do all the talking. (Also Rachel’s a Slytherin and Hufflepuff x Slytherin is really hecking cute)

💚Slytherin💚

Josephine Barry- I have this theory that the Barry’s are an old Slytherin family. Everyone in the family has been sorted into sytherin untill Diana and Minnie May. Ms. Barry is definitely a queen and I think she’s very ambitious. She really takes no shit.

Mr&Mrs Andrews- I think the Andrews are another old Slytherin family where everyone’s been put in that house for generations.

Billy Andrews- 1. He’s an Andrews 2. He’s cunning, ambitious and a little bitch (also he is very mean, but we don’t support negative Slytherin stereotypes in this household.)

Prissy Andrews- ok I was so close to putting this queen in Ravenclaw. However in the first two seasons she did bend to the will of her family. I think she would be someone who asked to be in Slytherin even though the hat saw her Ravenclaw potential. Also her standing up to her father and asking for her dowery? I could definitely see a Slytherin doing that. (Although once she marries Winnie and they raise 2 kids who are both put into Ravenclaw. She disowns herself from Slytherin and only supports 1 quidditch team)

Eliza Barry- very into whats proper and whats not. Probably came from an old family and met her future husband at school

William Barry- man definitely gives of Slytherin vibes. Also is a Barry.

Rachel Lynde- I don’t think this one needs an explanation

Josie Pye- I mean just look at her motives for doing things and I think you can understand (agian I’m not trying to put the villains in Slytherin because of negative stereotypes. I just do think she’s a Slytherin)

Jane Andrews- she may be a lesbian, but she is also an Andrews and therefore a sytherin

Nathanial- this guy was in Slytherin before he was kicked out of hogwarts.

💜Squib💜

Mr. Phillips-I don’t know how to explain that he gives off squib vibes

Mr. Dunlop- my theory here is that Nathaniel kinda manipulated him into doing his evil plan. They both kinda bonded over the fact that the wizarding world had disowned them.

The end! (Ignore all the spelling and grammar errors)

[coffeebooksorme]

JUNE 2019 WRAP UP

This month was a DAMN good reading month! Not only did I read a lot (holy crap, I read 14 books, y’all!) but I read a lot of good books! 12 of these were rated 3 stars and more so heck yes, good freaking reading month! And I FINALLY knocked a book off my Book Bingo card so YAY!

Again, I only have two books preordered this month so, hopefully, I’ll be able to knock off some more from my TBR. I think I might do another cull of it soon cause ya girl is trash and mood bought a lot of stuff between the last unhaul and now. It’s mostly fantasy that’s been super hyped and my FOMO kicked in so I bought it. I also really need to pick a book from my Book Bingo to read because it’s getting down to the nitty gritty of being filled with the huge ass books (Storm of Swods, Drums of Autumn, LOTR trilogy) so I think I might pick a bigger one to read this month.

OH! I ALSO HIT MY GOODREADS GOAL OF 75 BOOKS! Last year I hit my goal early and I bumped the goal higher but I don’t think I’ll do that again this year. I like knowing that I’ve reached the goal I set. I’ll more than likely either double it or almost double it but I don’t want to raise it and then get all anxious about meeting it. Go me, job well done, leave it well enough alone lol

FAVORITES OF THE MONTH

The Unhoneymooners by Christina Lauren

The Devouring Gray by Christine Lynn Herman

Fix Her Up by Tessa Bailey

DEV1AT3 by Jay Kristoff 

DUDS OF THE MONTH

Once & Future by Cori McCarth & Amy Rose Capetta

We Rule the Night by Claire Eliza Bartlett

JULY RELEASES I’M EXCITED ABOUT

Spin the Dawn by Elizabeth Lim (July 9th)

The Merciful Crow by Margaret Owen (July 30th)

[pinkbubbles-and-bigtroubles]

Colour Me In Part 4

Eliza woke up to her bed shaking and a red light flashing in her face. This past week had been a nightmare with the James family taking up entirely too much of her time. Zach's ex, Daisy Moss,  had been blocked on all his social media, but was using mutual friends to get to him. All the while posting racy pics with cryptic captions “miss your hands,” “it's never as good as it was with you,” etc. It was working and he was bouncing off the walls an emergency call at 2 am wasn't as unexpected as it was unwelcome.

Sure enough, text messages were flooding in from Evie, Jeanette, and even his mom, Helen.  Daisy had finally gotten him to agree to meet for dinner to discuss where their relationship had gone wrong. That dinner dissolved into a public screaming match and when Daisy started trashing the restaurant Zach took off leaving her there. He'd hidden out at his friend Sam's house and they'd gotten piss drunk for a few hours. Zach got the spins and stepped outside for some air. It took Sam almost half an hour to realize he'd wandered off and raise the alarm. Before anyone could reach Sam's house, Zachary was arrested while banging on the front door of a Methodist Church crying and screaming at the top of his lungs. Evie had been notified as soon as he reached the police station. Her boss was enraged that Jeanette had let it go so far without contacting them, Jeanette was fed up with everybody and threatened to quit, and Eliza was on her way to clean up the mess.

Maggie heard her get up to leave and insisted on coming with her. Eliza hesitated thinking it unprofessional, but she was tired and an interpreter would really help move this along. While Maggie drove Eliza scrolled through her messages to see if she's heard from Calum.

She had barely seen him since that night he'd first kissed her. They'd met for a quick breakfast at Marian's, or as he called it “their spot.”  He'd also surprised her at work and taken her to lunch. Each time he was sweet and a well behaved gentleman, much to Eliza's growing frustration. He'd wanted to take her to dinner again, but she'd been so busy and then he'd gone out of town with his friends for the weekend. Calum had texted her regularly, but it wasn't the same.

Waiting in the West Hollywood police station to get Zach processed Eliza pulled out her camera and nudged Maggie who shook her head.

“What the fuck are you doing? I look like hell, I want to go home.” Maggie always signed slowly when she was tired and Eliza called it whining.

“Please Mags I wanna fuck with Calum a bit,” Eliza pled with her sister.

Maggie pouted but nodded and Eliza told her to look pissed off. She took a few before deciding on one where Maggie looked angry and Eliza looked scared.

I didn't know who to call. I can't reach Kevin and I can't call my mom.

Calum responded quicker than she thought

OMG babe what happened? Are you okay? Do I need to come get you?

Maggie read over her shoulder poking her in the ribs before sitting back and looking smug.

Eliza glanced back and Maggie signed “I told you, I knew he liked you like that,” her hands back to their usual quick precise movements.

Eliza rolled her eyes and shook her head, but she was smiling.

We've been arrested. Evie will help with a lawyer but not with bail or bond.

What the hell? What did you get arrested for? Maggie too?

It's a long story but we're being charged with attempted murder

Maggie smacked her arm, “dummy now he'll know you're lying.”

….. Okay you're fucking with me, you had me going for a second. If you're serious, well this should be interesting.

Calum why would I lie about something like this

Calum sent back a screenshot of TMZ showing the arrest of Zachary James and how neither his manager or publicist had any comment.

My guess is you're waiting for this little shit. I see his ex Daisy Mess is back again.

I heard a rumour Ashton had a thing with her sister, Poppy.

That was Luke actually. All three sisters are batshit crazy. I haven't met the oldest, Iris Rose but I've heard enough.

Oh shit I gotta go…. The family just showed up

Helen's mother, Zach's grandma Lila, showed up minutes after his mother and sister. Due to Helen's hearing loss the entire family knew ASL and Eliza and Maggie got to watch the two women silently arguing while sitting quite some distance apart. It was clear Lila blamed them for bringing chaos and disruption around her troubled grandson. Lila was introduced to the sisters after Zach was finally back with them. An argument ensued and not wanting to been seen by the rest of the family, Lila discreetly slipped Eliza a note asking her opinion.

Eliza wrote back “Take him with you to San Diego, he needs a break. He needs a new manager and get his computers and cameras out of that house and away from his sister.”

Lila nodded and asked Eliza if she'd come to San Diego to help out until they replaced Jeanette.

Maggie shook her head behind Lila but Eliza felt she couldn't say no.

It had been a week and Eliza was out of her mind with boredom. Eliza feigned a cat allergy to politely decline Lila's invitation to stay in her gaudy McMansion in a gated community, and Lila paid for a decent hotel. She missed her friends and family. Maggie was on FaceTime every free minute they had. Kevin bombarded her on Snapchat because he lives for the filters. Calum had stuck to texting along with a few Snapchat videos of him with Duke, or at rehearsal with the guys.

Calum found himself missing her terribly. His pulse picked up when he got her notifications. They were at this weird stage where they were dating but not quite an official couple. Calum wanted to be available, but not clingy, flirty but not creepy. The fact that they mostly had a text based relationship gave a whole other set of problems as words on a screen, lacking nuance of tone or body language, could easily be misinterpreted. It was stressing him out, and he didn't get stressed out. ‘

He was Calum Hood, and he didn't stress out over girls. At least until now, and his friends wouldn't stop giving him shit. He had to just smile and take it because they weren't wrong. He hadn't hooked up since Natasha, when he'd literally kicked her out of bed to go meet Eliza. These past few days he'd been low key tempted, as it seemed every girl he'd hooked up with over the past year was hitting up his phone. Jay had even offered to “just come through and suck him off if he wanted,” and it was hard to say no to that

“Come on Calum, you hardly ever come out anymore. Your girl is out of town, and there's nothing that says you HAVE to pull. Just come out have fun with the guys and then go home and jerk off to anime porn, or is that me?” Michael was relentless about Calum coming out to Lucky's. Finally he agreed and after a couple drinks he relaxed and was having a good time. He even chatted with Natasha, well aware she was very good friends with Kevin, who was also there somewhere.

Everything was fine until Ashley, Michael's ex came stumbling over and randomly threw herself at Calum, trying to shove her tongue down his throat and her hand down his pants. He froze,  hesitating to physically shove her off of him. Fortunately Crystal didn't and Ashley was soon on the floor. There was a bit of a scuffle when her friends tried to jump in but Kevin and security threw them out. Calum didn't feel like staying much after that, and Luke left with him grabbing In and Out before going back to Cal's.

“So have you told Eliza how much you like her? How long till you guys become an official couple?” Luke was only half teasing, he and the rest of the guys had noticed a change in Calum. He was happy and more relaxed, but at the same time bristling with a nervous energy.

“It's barely been a month since I met her, and you know I suck at relationships,” Calum shook his head looking dejected.

“You're doing pretty well so far with Eliza. You're always texting her, and you took her on actual dates. Something I've never seen you do. I've also never seen you go this long without a hookup, your balls must be killing you,” Luke snickered finishing off his burger.

“Piss off, what's your point anyways?” he pulled out his phone to text Eliza.

“You should go see her,” Luke told him.

“That's insane, I'd look like a fucking stalker,” Calum looked at him like he was crazy.

“Come on, she's stuck in San Diego on babysitting duty. She told you herself she's bored out of her mind, and hates going to crowded places alone. Surprise her and take her out, get your own hotel room if you have to. You're just going to drink and pout all weekend if you don't,” Luke checked his phone. “Ashton is still at Lucky's I'm gonna have him ask Kevin.”

“Luke I'll kill you,” Calum glared at him. “Don't you dare.”

“Too late, now let's see what Kevin says,” Luke shrugged.

Evie was thrilled at the way Eliza took charge of the Zachary James situation and had given her free reign to turn it around. Unfortunately it was taking longer than expected to find a manager leaving her stuck in babysitting duty as well as being in charge of the hiring committee. The week had been tedious meetings or emotionally draining sessions with Zach. Tomorrow was Friday,  she had two interviews and a phone conference with Evie. She couldn't go home until Tuesday at the earliest, but at least her schedule was free this weekend. Eliza wanted to go do something fun, but she hated dealing with large crowds on her own.

Luke laughed when Ashton texted him back, “apparently Kevin wants your number so y'all can surprise your girl, and he just found out there's something called the 'Calum Challenge’ to see if they can break you.”

Before Calum could ask what was going on Kevin was blowing up his phone

Eliza stared at her phone in disbelief. Kevin just wouldn't stay out of her business.

He came out last night and everything was cool, until this random thot tried to hop on his dick right there in VIP. Your mans panicked and almost threw that bitch across the room, but he can't lay hands on a female cuz his mama raised him right, so he's trying to pry her off of him without hurting her. Lucky for him I saw the whole thing and told Mikey's girl Crys to handle it.

That's not what I asked you Kevin. Why are you talking to Calum? What are you up to?

I'm trying to tell you, if you'll listen. So these broads have come up with the Calum challenge. They have a bet to see which one can get him to break first.

That can't be a real thing? Why is it that big of a deal?

Because they are all jealous little bitches who never thought Calum would settle down.

Settled down? This is ridiculous

So Calum was worried I'd tell you he was kissing another girl. That's how we ended up texting after he left with Luke. He wanted to surprise you so tomorrow keep your eyes open. Cal also helped me sweet talk Nat into covering my shift Saturday night. So get ready bitch because I'm picking you up at 10am.  I've got a big surprise for you so look cute.

Is Calum coming with you???

I wish that was the surprise, but his friend has that big birthday party Saturday night, and all the boys are going.

I know, just wishing, I know he can't miss something important like that.

Eliza finally got done with her meetings. She was thrilled to find Calum had sent her flowers, which were waiting at the front desk. Since Kevin insisted to dress up to his standards, Eliza went shopping. She found a bold bright blue peacock print tunic on sale that she could wear over her favorite black leggings and some cute blue suede flat heeled boots that were spendy but super comfortable.

Kevin texted her moments after her alarm went off.

I'm about two hours away. Your ass better be dressed, hair and makeup done and ready to walk out the door when I get there.

Eliza grumbled but she got up, Kevin hated mornings more than she did, so if he was making this much effort she had to as well.

She pulled her hair into two curly puffs on either side, it was too early and damp to do anything thing other than try and keep her hair under control. Seeing she had about 40 minutes to kill she made another cup of chai and continued reading a book of love poems from Persia in Farsi she'd borrowed from Maggie. She got lost reading until her phone was vibrating off the table and the strobe light by her bed was flashing.

WTF Eliza I come all this way, and you're not gonna answer open your door you gorgeous bitch

Eliza jumped up and ran to the door knowing Kevin would be in a mood because he had to wait.  Phone still in one hand, she flung open the door an apology on her fingertips, when she saw him she stopped dead in her tracks.

It wasn't Kevin, but Calum on the other side of the door, holding a lovely bouquet and smiling at her. She felt her phone vibrate again and looked at it trying to figure out what was going on.

Surprise!!!!! There's no way in hell I was driving to San Diego this early. Enough with this charade, tell Romeo I’m going back to sleep. Have fun with dog boy.. love you.

@wildhearthood @kiiiimberlyriiiicker1995 @cal-puddies @biba3434 @babygirlcashton @angelbabylu @itstheholls @5sos-ficssmut @cal-pal-cuddles @calumh-excess @1dthewantedlove @you-of-ghost

[simonxriley]

Combat Boots And Tiaras 1/5

Pairings: Shuhrat “Fuze” Kessikbayev x Skylar “Phoenix” Jackson (oc)

Summary: Fuze has never been good with relationships, his gruff demeanor and curt speech seed to that. But when they push away someone he truly cares for, he’ll do anything to get her back. 

Words: 3,231

Warnings: Mention of blood. 

Russian: Da = Yes. Zaichik = Bunny

A/N: This is based on two prompts and their origin story because I ship Skylar with all the Spetsnaz fellas. Any-who the prompts are ‘does he know about the baby?’ and ‘I never meant to hurt you’. 

Ao3 and FF 

When Skylar and Fuze first slept together they were both drunk and wanted to blow off some steam after a treacherous mission. It wasn’t meant for more than that, just sex. Then they found themselves going back to each other, and their relationship changed from friends to friends with benefits.

It was good though, and the more nights they spent together, the closer they got.

But then something that shouldn’t have happened, happened. Skylar was sitting on the toilet in the bathroom she shares with Ash, looking down on a positive pregnancy test. She felt like her heart was ripped out of her chest, and stepped on. They never talked about kids, because their relationship was never meant to be serious. Now Skylar felt lost, and unsure of what to do.

Will Fuze even be happy about this? Or will he freak?

The tears started to well in her eyes, and her hands started to shake. The tears blurring her vision as she looked down at the word ‘pregnant’, a word that brings so many women happiness, she wished she could feel that way. Happy, happy about the child she was now carrying. But she couldn’t, all she felt was sadness and uncertainty.

She was still young, unsure if she would be a good mother, and unsure if she could be a mom and still work. She didn’t want to retire just yet. Zofia managed to do both, be a mother and work, maybe Skylar could do the same?

There was a knock at the door, startling Skylar, she quickly wiped her eyes and shoved the pregnancy test into her pocket.

“Sky, you alright in there? It’s been nearly thirty minutes.”

She got up, opening the bathroom door. “Yeah I’m fine. I didn’t realize it’s been that long.”

Ash scanned her face, her own face softened and a hand came up and gently grabbed her arm. “You’ve been crying Sky, you can tell me if anything is wrong.”

Her hand reached into her pocket, touching the plastic shell of the test, just the touch of it made her want to cry. She took a deep breath and walked away to sit down on Ash’s bed. Ash quickly followed and sat down beside her, noticing how upset she looked she took Skylar’s hand and held it between hers.

“I’m pregnant Ash and I don’t know what to do!” She looked over at her with tear filled eyes. Pleading. “I don’t even know if I want this child.”

Skylar pulled out the positive test from her pocket, handing it over to her. She took it from Skylar’s hand and looked down at it.

Ash glanced over to Skylar, then down at the test. She wasn’t sure how to help with this, a pregnancy was a lot different from her normal day to day life. And in the end it will be Skylar’s decision on what she wants to do. “Do you want to go see Doc? To make sure it’s a viable pregnancy, this might be a false positive.”

She thought that was the best option, and she wanted to ease her worries even if she might actually be pregnant.

Skylar took a deep breath, wiping her eyes. “Yeah I think that’s a good idea. Not yet, I want to look like I haven’t been crying.”

“Okay.” She handed her the test back, watch Skylar take it and look down on it. “Hey, even if you are you’ll make a great mom.”

“You really think so?” She looked over at her and sniffled. “I don’t know anything about babies.”

That was the one thing that scared her, no experience with kids. How would she know she was doing the right thing? Or know if she’s feeding her child enough? She knows a lot of women say your maternal instincts kick in once you have a child, but what if hers don’t? Or they come in later than expected? Having a child is a huge responsibility and she doesn’t want to mess that child up.

“Yes! So what if you don’t know anything about babies, there are books and you can always ask your mom for help. Fuze, who knows how he’ll be as a father.”

“That’s what I’m worried about.”

Ash sighed as Skylar looked down at the floor, now wishing she could take back what she said about Fuze. She didn’t even know how Fuze would react to this, for all she knows he could be very unhappy.

“I’m sure Fuze will be a great father, pretty strict but he’ll be a good one.”

Skylar laughed as she turned her head, wiping the tears from her eyes. “He will be a strict father, that’s for sure. I wonder how I’ll be as a mom.”

“Loving, laid back. That child is gonna have one amazing mother, who will spoil the child rotten.”

“Thank you Eliza!”

Ash gave her a small smile then stood up. “C’mon, let’s go see Doc.”

She nodded and stood up, throwing the pregnancy test in the trash before leaving the room.

As they made their way towards medical Skylar was praying no one would be there, or if there was someone they would leave very quickly. She didn’t want people to know about the pregnancy, not before she tells Fuze.

Walking into medical, it was quiet, no chatter, and that made her feel relieved. In the distance she could see Doc sitting at his desk going over a file, she took a deep breath and walked over to him, Ash following behind.

When he heard footsteps drawing near him he looked up, shutting the file and sitting up a little bit straighter. “What can I help you ladies with? I wasn’t expecting to see you.”

Skylar glanced down at her hands, then back to him, taking a deep breath. “I’m pregnant Doc.”

He held his hand up for her to stop talking a small smile spreading across her face. “Say no more, just lie down on the nearest gurney and I’ll bring over the ultrasound.”

She nodded her head, going to the first gurney she saw and laid down on it. Ash standing beside her. Her heart began racing and a million things ran through her head, this wasn’t how she thought her life would be going right now.

Doc showed up moments later with the monitor, she took a deep breath and moved her shirt up. As he got it ready, he glanced over at her seeing the worry etched onto her face. “Skylar it’s okay to be worried, to be scared, those are two plausible reactions to something like this. Now lets see if I can find a heartbeat.”

He grabbed the wand and the gel, squirting a generous amount on her stomach. Skylar and Ash both turned their attention to the monitor, waiting for anything to pop up. As soon as Doc put that wand on her stomach, moving it slightly down to the right a heartbeat was heard, forcing Skylar’s heart to skip a beat. But when her eyes locked on to the fetus she couldn’t help but give a small smile and sigh.

“How far along do you think I am?”

“I would estimate you’re probably between five to seven weeks along. If you can recall your last menstrual cycle I can pinpoint it better.” He removed the wand from her stomach and cleaned the gel off. “Now Skylar didn’t I tell you and Fuze to use protection after the last incident?”

“Incident? What incident?” asked Ash

Skylar pulled her shirt down and sat up, looking over at her. “Four months ago after that mission Fuze and I were on, the one in the theme park I kinda teased him and by the time we got back to the base we went straight to his room.”

“You guys had unprotected sex didn’t you?” Ash glared at her and shook her head.

“Yes, but that wasn’t the incident. After we were done I started bleeding, like a lot. We went to see Doc and Shu’s semen was mixed in with the blood.” She turned her attention over to Doc. “And we have been using protection, though a condom did break like six week ago. I didn’t really think much of it since I’m on the pill.”

“Hold on, why were you bleeding?” Ash crossed her arms and raised a brow.

“Oh apparently there was a huge vein right at the opening of my cervix, when he went over it, it popped.”

“Alright, carry on.”

Doc shut the monitor off and looked over at her. “Have you been taking anything new lately?”

“Just the antibiotics you gave me for the meningitis I had a month or so ago.”

“Do you remember what they were?”

“No, but one started with an ‘R’, if that helps.”

“Okay, I’ll look up your file and see what I gave you.” He walked back over to his desk, Skylar and Ash following behind him.

As they waited Skylar tapped her fingers on his desk, the nervousness she felt earlier had subsided for the most part, still she needed to tell Fuze and that made her feel even more nervous. The uncertainty is what scared her the most.

“Okay, here we go.” She looked over at him as he read the screen, mumbling the antibiotics that he gave her until he came to one. “Rifadin, side effects are upset stomach, heartburn, nausea, menstrual changes, headaches.” He stopped reading the computer screen and looked over at her. “You didn’t have any menstrual changes right?”

“No..well I did have spotting a week ago but I thought it was just stress from work. Stress can cause me to be late. Clearly the reason was something else.” She placed her hand on her stomach, lighting patting it.

“You’re on the pill correct?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, yeah rifadin is your suspect to this unplanned pregnancy. It can decrease the effectiveness of hormonal birth control, the pill for example.”

Skylar narrowed her eyes at him and sighed through her nose. “So technically this pregnancy is your fault.” She chuckled. “I can’t believe I got pregnant from one faulty condom.” 

“We went over everything Skylar and you said you and Fuze were using condoms, I wasn’t worried about an unplanned pregnancy. Just about the side effects. Now I suspect you need to tell Fuze and I’ll check up on you in a few weeks to see how the pregnancy and the baby is doing.”

She took a deep breath, trying to get her heart back to beating at a normal pace. “I know I was joking. And alright, merci Doc.”

“You’re welcome! And Skylar make sure to pick up some prenatal vitamins soon.”

“Will do Doc.”

Skylar and Ash left the medical bay afterwards, just in time for Jackal to walk in. They all said their hellos and went their separate ways. When they got out into the hallway Ash turned to her, curiosity etched onto her face. “So what are you going to do?”

“I guess tell Fuze.” She grabbed her phone from her pocket, looking down at the time. It was late so everyone was either in their rooms or in the rec room relaxing. But she knew Fuze would be in the workshop working on his cluster charges. He liked it when no one was around. “And hope everything works out fine.”

“Well good luck and you know where to find me if you need me.”

“Thanks I’m gonna need it.” She took another deep breath and headed for the workshop.

                                                          xXx

Skylar stood outside the doorway, fiddling with her hands as she tried to calm her rising nerves. She could see Fuze sitting at one of the tables with his back to the door working on his cluster charge. Before getting up enough courage to go in there, she watched him for a moment, taking in him working in his natural habitat. Sometimes she wondered if he missed working at the Alabino firing range near Moscow.

She opened the door, and walked in, letting it close on its own behind her. When he heard the door he turned to look to see who was joining him, a soft smile forming on his face when he saw it was her. “Zaichik, I thought you were resting? You said you didn’t feel good.”

Walking over to him she returned the smile, sitting on the stool next to him. He leaned over giving her a chaste kiss. “I was becoming restless and the nausea had subsided a little. Besides, I kinda miss you.”

He set his screwdriver down and turned his full attention on her. “You could have messaged me saying that, you didn’t need to walk all the way down here when you don’t feel good just to spend time with me. I would have gone to your room or meet you in mine to make things easier for you.”

“Shuhrat sometimes I forget how romantic you can get or you just forget we’re not actually together.”

He grabbed his screwdriver and turned back to his cluster charge. “I would like that to change zaichik.”

Skylar blinked her eyes a few times, a little taken aback. “You do?”

“Da, I do.” He finished tightening a screw, then turned to look at her. His green eyes piecing into her hazel ones. “I’m tired of our relationship being based on just sex. I want us to be more, to be an actual couple. Da, the sex is good but I long for the nights where we just lie in my bed and talk after a long day.” He sighed and took her hand into his. “I know people think I don’t care, they’re wrong. I do care about you I have for a long time.”

Her face softened and her other hand covered the top of his. Fuze wasn’t someone to show his affection to the public, that just wasn’t him. His affection was always shown behind closed doors, only for them to see.

“Shuhrat I know you care, you don’t need to prove yourself to me. I guess I just wasn’t expecting for our relationship to change past just sex. Not that I don’t enjoy our nights together when we do just lie in your bed and talk. I wished you mentioned this sooner.”

“I wanted too, I just didn’t know where you stood. We never talked about being serious zaichik!” Skylar pulled her hand free, covering her mouth. The nausea was coming back and she was trying to make herself not vomit. He seemed to quickly notice something wasn’t right since he was up on his feet in an instant rubbing up and down her back. “You are not better Skylar. Let me collect my things and head to my room, you need to rest.”

She sighed and nodded, she knew the nausea was from the pregnancy, that’s how she figured it out in the first place. She was going to need to pick up more than prenatal vitamins tomorrow morning.

She watched Fuze collect his things, putting them back in his bag. When he was nearly done she stood up, taking a few deeps breaths. He slung the back over his shoulder and placed his hand on the small of her back. “Let's get you to bed.”

When they got to his room, Skylar toed off her shoes and took off her pants, staying in just her underwear and t-shirt and got under the covers. She watched him put the bag on his desk and sit down in the chair to take off his boots, knowing this would be the perfect time to tell him, but she couldn’t. If an argument was too arise she would be too nauseous to do anything and the last thing she wants to do is to actually vomit.

Besides, she was still early into her pregnancy they’ll be plenty of opportunities to tell him. And she hopes the nausea will go down by then.

Fuze discarded his Gorka pants and shirt, staying in just his boxers and joined her in bed. Turning on his side, he brushed some of her chestnut brown hair behind her ear and sighed. “Have you talked to Doc about this? There might be something wrong.”

“I saw him before I went to see you. He thinks it’s just a side effect from the antibiotic he gave me, nothing he can really do about it. Just said to rest and keep hydrated.” She gave him a small, reassuring smile. “Enough about my nausea, let's get back to what you said in the workshop. I know we never talked about being more than friends with benefits and truthfully I’ve been wanting to bring it up for a few months now. I just didn’t think you wanted too, so I just...didn’t.”

“I know I’m not the easiest person to get along with and I have a lot to learn about being a decent boyfriend.” He turned on his back and stared up at the ceiling, resting an arm behind his head. “Ever since we started sleeping together, six months ago, I felt happy. To the point I couldn’t wait for night to arrive because I knew I would be spending the night with you.” He sighed and turned his head to look at her. “Relationships never went well for me Skylar, not a lot of people can deal with my gruff demeanor and curt speech and I was waiting for you to be the same.”

Skylar propped herself up on her elbow, resting her palm on his broad chest. “How you are in our work environment and how you are behind closed doors are two very different aspects of you. Both I like very much.” She leaned over until she was mere millimeters from his lips. “On the contrary, I think you’ll make a great boyfriend. And I would love for us to be a couple if you still want to.”

She placed a firm kiss upon his lips, then pulled away, lying back down. She could see the small smile on his face as he turned to her, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her to his chest. Nuzzling his face into her hair. “I would like that zaichik, very much.”

“Good, I guess it’s official then.”

“Da, it is.” He kissed the top of head and hummed. “Now get some sleep, you need it.”

Skylar scoffed and closed her eyes, she hated that she lied to him about why she was feeling nauseous, she just couldn’t tell him. But it was a little white lie, she did go see Doc, she just lied about the outcome, it could’ve been worse. Now she just needs to muck up the courage to tell him that he’s going to be a father, before he finds out himself. If only it was that easy.

[mezzomercury]

Bohemian Rhapsody in Blue Chapter Three: My Fair Lady

How Eliza got her name...

Word Count: 1.2k

Warnings: Pregnancy

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

September 17, 1985

The Garden Lodge

London, United Kingdom

Freddie Mercury and Jim Hutton were, for lack of a better term, hungover. It had been the day after Freddie’s return to London after being in Munich for a while, and naturally he had a large-scale party to celebrate his homecoming. The couple had spent the day so far trying to relieve splitting headaches, having to sit down every few minutes due to dizziness, and fighting the urge to vomit. Throughout this ordeal, they were feeling nostalgic about how easy it used to be to get over nights of wild partying and excess drinking, but now they were in their late thirties, and age seemed to suddenly catch up on them.

The only one in the Garden Lodge who had not felt any resemblance of a hangover was Nadia, as she did not attend Freddie’s wild party due to her current condition. Now more than halfway through her surrogate pregnancy with Freddie and Jim’s daughter, she had managed to set up a routine that worked for her wonderfully. She had just returned from her morning walk to Hyde Park where she did yoga, and had plans to practice cello for a good long while later in the afternoon. As she walked in and saw Freddie and Jim lying on the couch, both of them groaning in pain softly, she couldn’t help but chuckle a bit. She knew this would be one of the last wild parties, if not the last, that they’d throw before the baby arrives, so she understood they would end the night with a huge blaze of glory. Walking past the two of them, she kissed each father-to-be on the forehead to greet them. 

“Good morning, sleepyheads. Do you want me to fetch you anything?” Nadia asked them, removing her shoes and putting away her yoga mat. 

Freddie shook his head and gestured for her to sit down between him and Jim, 

“Please don’t stand up for another moment, darling.” 

She complied and parked herself on the sofa, taking a little more time than usual due to her rapidly growing baby bump, finally sitting down with a sigh of relief from being on her feet for a while.

Jim, even though incredibly hungover, slowly lifted Nadia’s feet up and began to massage them, while Freddie eagerly placed his hands on her belly as she lied down across his lap. 

“How are our two favorite girls this morning?” he asked Nadia tenderly as his fingers gently traced small circles on the thin shirt covering her protruding midsection. 

The expectant mother smirked and replied, 

“We’re doing alright. I think she’s asleep, but she’ll wake up any moment now and start wreaking havoc on my bladder. Already quite strong and active.” 

She took one of Freddie’s hands and placed it on the area where the baby’s feet supposedly were. Freddie had yet to feel his daughter, even though Nadia had been feeling light flutters here and there for a couple weeks now, but he was eager and impatient to feel the same, gluing his hands to her baby bump whenever he could in hopes that he would someday feel a tiny kick. He even did this when the baby was only the size of a pea and it wouldn’t be possible to feel anything for a while. As time went on and nothing was felt yet, Freddie started to worry subconsciously, jumping to the conclusion that the baby doesn’t like him. Nadia and Jim were quick to reassure him that this was hardly the case, but the fear still lingered on no matter how hard he tried to extinguish it.

As Nadia shifted in Freddie’s lap, trying to get comfortable, Jim slowly stood up and trudged over to the the television set, suddenly having an idea of something to distract him from his horrible headache. 

“Who wants to watch a movie?” he asked the two on the couch, who slowly groaned in approval. 

He pulled out the tape of My Fair Lady, one of his favorite films, from the nearby cabinet and inserted it into the VCR before sitting back down and massaging Nadia’s feet again. As the movie started with Audrey Hepburn as Eliza Doolittle, the cockney flower girl, roaming the streets of Covent Garden, Nadia started to fall asleep in Freddie’s lap, feeling unexpectedly tired from growing a little pre-human inside her. Freddie smiled down at her as she slept, running his hand through her hair while the other was still resting on her belly, as always. About ten minutes later, Jim nodded off as well, but in a sitting position with his face buried in his hand on the armrest of the sofa. Freddie continued to watch the film, but started to gradually space out while looking at the screen.

About halfway through the film, during the scene when the protagonist sings the infamous number “I Could Have Danced All Night,” a sudden jab beneath Freddie’s palm caused him to yelp loudly and come back to his senses after being so startled. The two sleeping beauties on the sofa with him were immediately awakened by the man’s near screaming, and panicked while trying to find the reason for this situation. 

“Freddie, what the bloody hell is going on?” Jim almost barked, still half asleep, but realized the reason for this commotion when he saw the wide and giddy smile spread across Freddie’s face. 

“I felt her! I felt her kick!” he hollered in joyful wonder as he continued trying to feel any further movements from the baby in Nadia’s belly. 

Nadia could only watch contently as she saw how excited he was. 

“See? I told you she’d kick for her Daddy. You just needed to be patient.” she told him, although he was too busy rubbing her tummy, feeling the tiny movements he was desperately waiting for, to listen. 

“Jim, darling, you’ve got to feel this! She’s really moving around in there!” 

Freddie hurriedly requested his husband, who could only chuckle as he watched the love of his life become so youthful and jubilant in a matter of seconds. Jim complied and placed his palm next to Freddie’s, smiling warmly with his eyes crinkling, awestruck at how their daughter somehow seemed to know how pleased her fathers were with her and kept kicking away at their delight. 

“Does it hurt at all?” he asked Nadia after a while, who in return shook her head, 

“It just feels a little strange, kind of like a goldfish swimming around in a bowl.” 

Jim chuckled in response, then diverted his attention back to Freddie, who was clearly having a ball with all of this.

As My Fair Lady drew to a close, Eliza Doolittle completed her transformation from a lowly street urchin to an elegant lady, and was now rebelling from her tutor. Freddie watched the scene unfold while resting his head on Nadia’s bare belly, beaming with pride whenever he felt a little kick against his cheek. 

“What do you think of the name Eliza, my love?” he quietly asked his unborn daughter. 

He smirked as he earned another kick in response, which he took as a sign of approval. 

“It’s a fitting name for you, my most fair and rebellious little lady.” he whispered before making a silent vow for his little girl.

Eliza, my darling. I promise to give you the world and so much more.

*********

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