#I only learned that she had a divorce once I was in my late teens

[cozmos-talkin]

Found out my mom READS omega verse today. I’m not sure how I feel.

[ramp-it-up]

II Most Wanted Pt. 2: Pedal so heavy 

Pairing: Syverson x OFC Reader "Buttercup" (w/ Betty Bronco)

Summary: The feelings are getting real as you make a decision about giving Jake Syverson the time of day (or night, rather) at your 20 year reunion.

Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI. RPF. S MUT, Angst, pining, fluff. Flashbacks, horny teenagers being horny (over 18 tho). Prom night, early 2000's music, mentions of sex acts, "Captain" kink, mentions of teenage pregnancy, divorce, breakups. The Powerpuff Girls, old automobiles, 20 year high school reunion, drinking, swearing. Reckless driving?

Read at your own risk.  Not Beta’d. All errors my own.

A/N:  This is the second installment of II Most Wanted. I'm in love with these two; they are bringing my writer heart back to life. If you like it, please reblog and comment.

I don't have a taglist. Please follow @rampitupandread and turn on notifications to learn when I post! 😘

I Do NOT Consent to my work being reposted, translated or presented on any other blog or site other than by myself.

Previous part here

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

May 2024

“Well, now Buttercup, that’s a long story. I know you want to hang with your friends. And I don’t know what you’re doin’ later tonight, but I would like to go somewhere quiet and talk about it.”

When you heard that, you went into fight or flight mode. Rage, regret, and sadness all flooded your body at once, and Sy’s eyes flicked down to your dominant hand which was curling into a fist. A wry smile started on his lips, and then he straightened up and looked you in the eye as he started to speak again.

“Butter-”

You shook your head, which silenced him. Then you raised your chin, released your fist, and turned your back, walking toward your friends.

—---

Get out (LEAVE!)

Right now

It’s the end of you and me

It’s too late (NOW!)

And I can’t wait 

For you to be gone…

Carla and Tiffani followed as you fled to the restroom.

“Why did you even tell him I liked him? I blame both of you.”

You were hurt, so you brought up a 20 year old slight and lashed out weakly at your friends. You were trying to ascribe meaning to your emotions.

How could everything still hurt this much? 

Carla wasn’t having it.

“Unh unh. No. Nope. We were sick of you running your mouth all the time about how cute he was. And Jakey boy had heart eyes for you since the day you walked into school, despite Becca the Bitch. After they broke up, we had to put you both out of your misery. It had to be done.”

Tiffani was nodding her head in agreement.

You sighed.

“‘M sorry guys,” you sat on the bathroom vanity and smiled to yourself about your Powerpuff councils in the 3rd floor Central High bathroom all those years ago. Then you grimaced when you thought of Sy.

“I just… Can’t…”

“So what just happened?”

Despite your surliness, Carla was ready to go to war for you.

“He wants me to go talk with him, ‘someplace quiet.’”

“Wow. Your air quotes are kind of aggressive.”

Sweet Tiffani was also calling you out.

“Maybe you do need to talk to him. I heard what happened, and it’s kind of a lot. A hell of a story.”

“Tiff has a point. You forbid us to say his name after you two broke up…”

You interrupted Carla.

“After he found out Becca was pregnant, you mean..”

“...That is a part of the story you need to hear. She did him dirty. They split when he finished his first tour. He asked about you, but you were already engaged to Scott…”

You’d heard that Sy enlisted instead of going to State for football like he planned when Becca fell pregnant, but the bit about the split hit you like a ton of bricks.

But why? And what did it matter now? 

“Sy spent the better part of the last 20 years in Afghanistan, and I think it’s because…But that’s not our story to tell. You really ought to talk to him.”

“I don’t have to do-”

Your voice was a little shrill and you closed your mouth when you heard yourself. You stood in the bathroom awkwardly until the familiar beginning of a song wafted into the room:

“Teen drinking is very bad.”

Carla and Tiff started screaming the next line:

“Yo, I got a fake ID tho.”

The beat dropped and they pulled you out of the bathroom onto the dance floor.

One, here comes the two to the three to the four Everybody drunk out on the dance floor Baby girl ass jiggle like she want more Like she a groupie and I aint even on tour...

…..Everybody in this bitch getting Tipsy.

This was your thot song, and after a minute of standing there, fake offended by their dancing, soon you were shaking your ass with your lifelong friends.

—-----

Sy knew how much he was trying it when he asked you to talk, but he had been waiting 20 years for this chance. 

Tonight was the night.

And he wasn’t going to let the night pass without shooting his shot. But the truth needed to be told first. He hoped that you still cared enough to let it happen.

When you stared at him blankly, he started to sweat. He knew you lived your life since then. He feared that any feelings you may have had for him were over and done with. But then he saw your hand balled into a fist, and hope entered his heart.

Sy never shrank from a fight; hell, he’d started too many, but he never wished for someone to sock him in the mouth as much as you.

He wanted to fight with you. 

And he wanted to make it up to you. 

His heart dropped when you walked away, but he decided to let it ride and give you some space. After you disappeared into the bathroom with Carla and Tiffani, Sy ventured into the venue, ready to interact with others now that he had laid down the challenge with you.

—---

You were having a ball dancing with the girls until that song came on. You stopped moving, the hair raised on the back of your neck. When you turned you found Sy staring right at you. You’d managed to ignore him the entire night, but this song and his blue eyes were wearing you down.

I'd sure hate to break down here Nothin' up ahead or in the rear view mirror Out in the middle of nowhere, knowin' I'm in trouble if these wheels stop rollin' So, God help me, keep me movin' somehow Don't let me start wishin' I was with him now

You walked toward Sy, drawn to him as if on a string. You had that feeling in the small of your back as you stood before him, the one that you hadn’t felt in ages, and suddenly everything felt inevitable.

Just like it did 20 years earlier. 

—---

May 2004

On Prom night, you came out of your bedroom and Sy’s mouth dropped open. His eyes never strayed from your face as he murmured,

“You look amazing.”

You blushed and smiled while your mom ‘awwwed’ and went to get her camera. You approached your boyfriend and he took your hand to twirl you around as he appraised the rest of you in your sleek emerald green dress. When you faced him again, he was licking his lips, trying to make the look on his face respectable. You smiled because you could read his mind.

Sy didn’t flinch as your mom called him “Jacob,” and you didn’t have it in you to be annoyed as she took a couple of pictures. Sy’s hand on your waist and his thumb gently stroking the exposed skin at the opening on the side of your dress made you shiver in anticipation.

You were caught up.

Soon, Sy was loading your bag into the back of Betty, and pulling off, your mom having accepted your explanation of staying over Tiffani’s after going bowling with the group after the prom.

In reality, a bunch of the crew were renting a huge chalet in the mountains, 45 minutes away. You and Sy had your own room, and you were ready to give him everything that night. You were distracted, imagining having your way with him that night.

And Sy was right there with you.

“Y’know, Buttercup, we can just head on up to the chalet.” 

He cut his eyes over to you to watch your reaction. When you didn’t answer and just bit your lip, that’s when he knew.

“Our suite has its own bathroom with a shower in it. We’re definitely using that this weekend. Can’t wait to see you all soapy and wet. ‘S all I could think about in the shower tonight. Almost jerked off to the image, but I decided to save it all for later…”

Sy knew you too well, and had keyed into how you responded when he talked dirty to you. He was priming the pump for later.

You pictured Sy in the shower, his lithe muscles clenched as he fisted himself, made you suddenly need a drink of water. You cleared your throat and found your voice.

“We have to go, Sy. I spent so much time getting ready. And you look so handsome in this tux….”

You skimmed your hand down his lapel, down his torso to his thigh, and you quickly ascertained his situation. He grinned at you.

“You’re right.”

Sy winked, smiled and concentrated on the road while you tried not to be a slut in the passenger seat. By the time you reached the venue, you had yourself under control. He parked, then turned toward you. 

“Let’s have a good time tonight, Buttercup. Think you can keep your hands offa me for a couple of hours?”

You scoffed, and Sy took your hand and kissed the back of it, then turned it over and kissed your palm, smoothing the joke away because in reality, It was him who couldn’t help touching you.

“Don’t want to mess up your makeup right now… might ruin it later tho.”

You whimpered in his grip as he kissed up your arm and you tucked a long errant curl behind his ear. 

Sy’s eyes went soft and he held your hands in your lap.

“Y’know, we don’t have to do anything tonight. We can dance all night if you want to. Bowl the blue balls away.”

You laughed and Sy fell in love even more. You were so beautiful.

“I love you, Buttercup, and us having sex or not won’t change that, not one bit.”

You melted as you stared at your handsome fella. He was fiddling with your hand, and then you felt something cold on your finger. You pulled your hand back and saw the delicate white gold ring with a tiny perfect diamond in the center that had been his grandmother’s.

You gasped.

“Sy!”

You looked from him to his grandmother’s ring. You’d come across it the first time you were over his house, ‘studying’ in his room on a chilly November night after football practice. You were being nosy and looking at everything you could touch as he went to get some snacks.

Sy was embarrassed when he came back and saw you with it. You thought he was mad at you for snooping, but he wasn’t. He’d told you that it was just a ‘tiny little ol’ ring, not worth anything,’ and that no one would want it, but that his Gran had left it for him to give to his future wife. 

“But, I’ll propose to someone with a bigger ring than this.”

Sy’s denim blue eyes held yours for a beat. Your heart flipped. You didn’t know why, because you’d only been talking for a couple of weeks and this was the first time you were alone together. 

You didn’t know that Sy was repeating something Becca had told him when she turned her nose up at the antique when she happened to see it, and you didn’t care as you took the black box and sat down on his bed. You stared at the ring inside like it was the crown jewels, and after about 5 minutes of studying it, you looked up at him. 

“Well. I think this ring is beautiful and precious. The detail is stunning. Your future wife would be lucky to get it.” 

That was exactly when Sy realized that he was in love with you.

Back in the Bronco outside of the prom, you were in disbelief.

“What are you doing Sy….?”

All of a sudden, you felt too young for this moment. But after only six short months together, Sy knew exactly what you were thinking.

“Calm down, Buttercup, this is just a promise ring.” 

He kissed your hand again. 

“I know we're jumpin' the gun, and we're both still young.” 

Those eyes held you in a trance.

“But one day, we won't be.”

“Oh, Sy…”

“It’s my promise to you, Buttercup. I will love you ‘til the day I die.”

And it seemed kinda crazy. But you believed him.

—-

May 2024

I made it this far without cryin' a single tear An' I'd sure hate to break down here Oh, no

It was either the music, the dancing, or the alcohol, or all three that made your mind up, but you were ready to listen to what Sy had to say. 

Stephanie Prince, the class president, was calling the Homecoming court up to the stage, and Sy looked that way. Anger bloomed again inside you.

Damnit, Sy needed to choose you this time.

“You still wanna talk, Sy?”

Your body language that screamed aggression: the cocked hip, the crossed arms that pushed up your tits, the tapping foot in those heels, all made Sy soft on the inside and hard on the outside for you. When he answered you, his voice broke. 

“Ye– yeah.”

Christ, you had him weak. But he made a decision, found his strength, and grabbed your hand, pulling you out of the Marriott.

You followed him obediently, and that set him on fire. He stopped and turned around when he reached the Bronco. 

But he didn’t let go of your hand.

You two stared at each other in the late spring night air, stars winking down on you two.

“So where we goin’, Sy?”

Being this close to him again, and the feeling of his touch made all those 20 year old pheromones perk up again. Damn, this man. 

This huge, handsome, hairy man.

“Where do you wanna go, Buttercup?”

What your brain was doing was insane, so you just kept silent.

Becoming mute was one of your tells. Sy was elated that maybe you wanted him, at least physically. He was so thirsty for you.

“Hm.”

Sy grunted, straightened up, loosened his tie and unbuttoned the top buttons of his shirt, all while still holding your hand. It was like he didn’t want to let you go. 

And he didn’t.

“Tell you what. Let’s take a spin in Betty. See what’s up in the ol’ town.”

Your eyes flicked toward the truck, and you knew it was dangerous.

But you were grown now. 

And so was Sy.

Sy led you around to the passenger side door to help you up into the high profile vehicle, leaning over you to buckle you in, only releasing you to put his hand on the door.

“I can’t believe you still have her,” you whispered, indicating the Bronco. “How is she still the exact same condition?”

“She’s been in storage for the better part of 20 years. Thought about her everyday though.”

Sy was looking at your lips, and the memories came flooding back.

“I bet she missed you.”

Sy cocked his head and his tongue darted out to moisten his lips. His voice came out gruff and he had to clear his throat again. 

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah, Sy.”

Any smooth line was lost as his brain short circuited with the concentration it took to not kiss you right now. 

“Well, we’re about to have some fun together again, you, me, and Betty. Sit tight, pretty lady.” 

Your cheeks heated at the compliment.

“Ok, Captain.”

Sy actually blushed, shook his head and closed the door, leaving you to breathe in the old leather smell of the Bronco with your eyes closed, conveniently leaving him to pump his fist behind the car unseen by you. 

He got back in the car, jacket off. And he leaned near you to place it on the back seat, you got a whiff of him, the familiar cologne adding another dimension to your roiling senses.

When you opened your eyes, you witnessed him rolling his shirtsleeves up his forearms. He caught you ogling him and you gulped and crossed your own arms and legs, angling yourself to look out of the open window.

Sy looked over at you closing yourself off from him, then smashed the gas to make sure that you'd squeal and grab his arm like the good ol’ days as he peeled out of the parking lot, pedal so heavy like you were the two most wanted criminals in town.

—---

Hit reblog if you like it!

Next part Here

[maddascanbe-blog]

Huh, I expected to get my drawing of Teen Zoé done for the redesigns first. Oh well... Only Kwami-swaps of the Lifeswap AU!

Meet Amaranth and Cerastes!

For no reason at all I decided to give Swap-Zoé long hair and Swap-Chloé shorter hair. Which is the exact opposite of my normal redesigns for them.

André won the custody battle for Zoé, and put his best foot forward into raising her and Chloé. Zoé is similar to how she is in cannon, late season 5. But she still learned how to mirror people, convincing them to lower their guard around her. She is a politicians daughter after all, and having people on your side is most important when convincing people to follow you. Zoé ultimately wants to do good for Paris, and is good friends with Ivan and the other members of Kitty section due to their activist mindsets.

Zoé's biggest fear is the secret of her being not André's biological daughter coming to light. He told her when she was 13 because he worried her biological father might try and regain custody in order to extort André for money. He made it clear in no uncertain terms that she is Zoé Bourgeois, the youngest of the family, Chloé's sister, and his daughter.

While she is happy André won't give her up for anything, she finds a new resentment for Audrey. And lives in fear this will harm her father's reputation, change how her relationship with her sister works, and effect how her friends see her, should it ever come to light.

Chloé's know for years that Zoé was the result of Audrey's cheating, she knew that one of the contentions during the divorce was that Audrey was barely in Paris the entire first 2 years of Chloé's life. The math didn't math, so she pieced together the truth. This only added fuel to her burning hatred for Audrey, Zoé is her little sister.

As Amaranth, Zoé makes her voice Heard! There is no stopping her once she's set her mind to it. I based her outfit on a womens power suit, and those asymmetrically colored biker jackets.

Juleka meanwhile, grew up with Anarka. She remembered her brother from when they were little, and is a tad horrified at who he's grown up to be. With Luka gone, Juleka lost her spark and her voice. She almost never talks, and doesn't stand up for anything. She just goes through the motions most days. Anarka tried to bring that light back to her daughters eyes, but every step forward has two steps back taken by Juleka's bullies. Being a quiet kid, who's mom can't keep a job, wears hand me downs, and whose dad ran off didn't leave much to be desired when it came to options of being harrassed.

Finally Anarka broke and asked Jagged to let the twins reunite. She hoped this might be a chance for Juleka to find herself again. And while Luka had changed too much from her caring and strong twin, she did find Zoé, Marinette, Adrien, and the members of Kitty Section.

Do you remember Juleka helping Zoé dye her hair in Sole Crusher? Well this time it happens in reverse. After getting comfortable with the group, she approaches Zoé about getting her hair colored. Naturally, Zoé's gotta help her girly out.

After Luka is deemed no longer suitable to be a miraculous holder, Ladybug and Chat Noir decide to give Juleka a chance. Cerastes isn't flashy, or confident. She's stealthy, sharp, and attentive.

Juleka's spent years just adapting to new situations and learning to read people for the sake of surviving, and it comes in handy when it comes to figuring out Akuma's.

Unshockingly, Luka isn't happy to see his miraculous used by someone else, though it does take a while to get there since Cerastes doesn't even get properly seen for ages. She's very good at disappearing.

Anarka is so relieved that Juleka finally found her people, that she's even willing to stay in Paris to keep her close to her friends. She still struggles to keep a normal job, but anything to see her little girl smile again.

[liaromancewriter]

What would be Ethan’s reaction to Sophie or Eloise telling him she would like to meet and possibly have a relationship with Louise? (let’s say at +16yo and he knows Louise does want that too.)

I answered an ask once about Ethan attending Louise's funeral that provides some background.

In my hc, Louise passes away when the girls are about 4 or 5 years old. They only met Louise when she was in the hospice during Ethan's last visit. They were too young to understand what was going on, but Louise finally got to meet her granddaughters.

Even when they're older, they have vague memories of her. Since Ethan doesn't really talk about Louise, she wasn't a feature in their home growing up. Alan kept the reminiscing to a minimum so as not to confuse them.

For Sophie and Eloise, they have always had 3 grandparents: Alan and Cassie's parents, with Sienna's parents as honorary grandparents. So Louise as a grandmother was an abstract concept for them.

Ethan and Cassie didn't tell the girls everything until they were in their late teens (about 16 or 17 yo). They felt that they were old enough to understand why Ethan chose not to have a relationship with Louise.

To answer your question, it was around this time that they started having questions about her and wanting to know this other person they shared DNA with. It made Ethan uncomfortable, but he understood their curiosity.

I created an hc during another ask. (I do that a lot. So many potential fics lol.) In that, Ethan started to wonder about Louise when he was in college and went looking for her. Eloise was more curious than Sophie, but in the end the twins are in sync about the big issues.

Ethan told Alan to answer any questions they had, and not worry about his feelings. The girls spend a weekend in Providence with their grandfather learning about Louise (and their dad as a young boy).

I do hc that for them Louise will always be a distant figure. They could never understood how a parent just leaves. They've seen divorce among their friends' parents so they know not all relationships or families last. But in their own family it's different. Sometimes they get embarrassed by their parents' PDA (and Maxenna's), but it influenced their own view of love and relationships.

Thanks for the ask!

Tags under the cut

Character Asks: @bluebelle08 @crazy-loca-blog @coffeeheartaddict2 @doriopenheart @lucy-268 @jerzwriter @openheartforeverinmyheart @peonierose @queencarb @quixoticdreamer16 @rookiemartin @tessa-liam @trappedinfanfiction

[cathygeha]

REVIEW

Johanna Porter Is Not Sorry by Sara Read

 Catalyst invitation accepted and art show attended instigate changes that see major changes in Johanna Porter’s life. How she will come out at the other end as her story progresses is well worth reading.

 What I liked:

* Johanna: mother, art teacher, divorced, once an up and coming artist, stymied and boxed in for almost twenty years, rebirthing herself, coming into her own

* Mel: Johanna’s daughter, late teens, athlete, self-aware, supportive, integral to the story

* That this was not an easy read filled with sunshine and light but one that had me thinking, caring, and contemplating ‘what if’

* The changes and growth that occurred in Johanna as the story progressed

* That Johanna took time to look at and learn from her past while using it to create a better more real future for herself – she put the past in perspective

* The plot, pacing, and writing with flashbacks that explained Johanna’s backstory

* The love interest that could have been Mr. Perfect but instead was a rather brilliant but flawed human instead

* Johanna’s ability to, in the end, do what was best for herself and make it happen

* The growth in more than one character in the story and the inclusion of the reader in the process

* Reading a new-to-me author that I would read again

 What I didn’t like:

* Who and what I was meant not to like

* Johanna’s mentor that proved to be more menace than lover

* The time Johanna lost before coming into her own and the reasons this happened

 Did I like this book? Yes

Would I read more by this author? Yes

 Thank you to NetGalley and Harlequin Trade for the ARC – This is my honest review.

 4-5 Stars

BLURB

A sharp, witty debut novel about a soccer mom who steals a world famous portrait of herself from the narcissistic artist who was once her lover, an impulsive crime that will re-frame her suburban life and make her question her life choices.

The headlines dubbed it the art heist of the decade, but for Johanna, it wasn’t theft, it was a rescue.

Twenty years ago, Johanna Porter was a rising star in the art world. Now she’s an unknown soccer mom. When an invitation arrives to an elite gallery opening for her former lover, the great Nestor Pinedo, Johanna wants to throw it in the trash where it belongs. But with some styling help from her daughter, she makes an appearance and comes face-to-face with the woman she was before the powerful and jealous Nestor ruined her.

La Rosa Blanca is a portrait of Johanna herself, young and fierce and fearless—a masterwork with a price tag to match. When she cuts it out of its frame, rolls it up, and walks out, Johanna is only taking back what was stolen from her.

Hiding out with La Rosa Blanca in a shack on the Chesapeake Bay, Johanna digs into the raw work of reviving her own skills while battling novice-thief paranoia, impostor syndrome, and mom guilt. But Johanna doesn’t just want the painting, she wants to paint again. To harness her powerful talent, she must defy everyone’s expectations—most of all her own—for what a woman like her should be.

    ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

Originally from Washington, DC, SARA READ tried the nine-to-five life for about a nanosecond before moving to rural Virginia to become a flute-maker’s apprentice and traditional fiddle player. Childbirth led her to a career in nursing. A cancer survivor herself, she now has the distinct privilege of caring for cancer patients. She is co-founder of #momswritersclub, a biweekly YouTube and live Twitter chat for writers. Sara lives in Charlottesville, Virginia, with her husband, two teens, a terrier, and three snarky cats. She loves a long run, a long road trip, and a long talk with a friend. www.sararead.net

[momolady]

Anomaly the Super Villain

Anamoly is what the world knows her as. But what the rest of the world doesn’t know is that she’s the only one who knows the truth about the number one hero. 

Female Main Character x Male Human (both cis)

I reside in the Heimlich Correctional Facility, a specially fortified prison made to house the exceptionally gifted criminal - a jail for supervillains. I’m not one for the flowery talk that is used to describe me. The title of ‘exceptionally gifted criminal’ sounds like a participation trophy. The facts are these: I break the law, I have superpowers, and I was caught and tried for my crimes. I’m not bitter about it. It’s the way I was caught that makes me livid.

My father was an occultist, something my mother didn’t know when she married him. She was unaware that he was trying to summon a creature of unnatural powers, using her womb as a vessel. Even after I was born, she didn’t suspect a thing - she was pure sunshine, bright, bubbly, and loving to a fault. I love her more than anything. Our Sunday visits are the highlight of my otherwise boring existence. I suppose I liked my father too, but when she discovered I was born to be a ritual object in his cult’s nefarious schemes, my mother got a good divorce lawyer and took us across the country.

My powers emerged slowly, which I will be grateful for. My mother got a few good years out of me being a normal baby before I started ripping her from bed with invisible strings when I was hungry. That’s why she started sleeping with a red light. My powers only worked in darkness or blue light. It took her a while to figure that out, but once she did, things were fine. We moved into a cul-de-sac after she left my father. There were houses all around us, just in case anyone from the cult came to get me. Lots of witnesses, and a chance for us to make friends.

I was weird. What with my sharp teeth, sleek black hair, and solid  black eyes, I wasn’t exactly the girl you wanted at your tea party. But then there was Ben. He was adorable, charming, with big blue eyes and curly blonde hair, and for some reason, this angel of a child was drawn to me, the demon spawn. I was lonesome and craving a friend. All I had back then was an enormous collection of horse toys, figurines and posters. Ben invited me to play one day, over the fence between our backyards. I had a sandbox to play in, and my mother had managed to mount a swing on a tree. But Ben had a swing set, a tree house, a huge slide, an even bigger sandbox, and a pool! And he wanted me to come play. I had never been happier.

Like me, Ben was exceptionally gifted, but his powers didn’t come from a pact with the devil. Like his father, who I later learned was Mr. Miraculous, Ben had super strength, flight, super speed, and was able to phase through walls. Although his powers weren’t as strong as his father’s, he had a certain cunning, which I took a liking to. When Ben was in his late teens, he took up the mantle of Prodigious Son and fought alongside his father. But he resented the attention his father garnered, while he was left in the background no matter what he did.

At this point, I was exploring my own abilities, and found that my puppetry could now work as long as there were shadows nearby. The darker it was, the stronger I became. I never told anyone except my mother about my powers, but somehow, Ben figured me out. “We should be a team,” he told me excitedly one night. “Just you and me. I can get away from my father’s legacy, and I’ll have you by my side.”

“I don’t know,” I demurred. We were in my basement, which Mom had turned into a studio for me when I took up painting, and it had been my hangout spot with Ben ever since.

“You’re so powerful, Anna. You would make an amazing superhero!” Ben, sitting close, put his hand on my leg. “It would be just us.”

He said this in such a way that my stupid little heart fell for it. Back then, I barely understood who or even what I was, and I thought I loved Ben because he was my only friend. But as the years went on, I would realize I loved Ben like someone might love a brother, or a cat, or a shiny rock. I loved him unconditionally, but not romantically. “You and me as a team?” I asked him with a smile.

Ben kissed me, and we had sex on the old sofa. I agreed to be his superhero partner, and he named me Anomaly. I thought it was sweet, but these days I wear the name as a badge of spite. Too bad there’s a hero called Spite now, or I might change my brand.

At first, we fought crime and it fought back. Ben seemed to have a hard time at it, but as long as I got someone into a shadowy corner, it was fine. This is when Ben began to piece my abilities together, and he orchestrated his meteoric rise. I see Ben still these days; as much as I resent him, I still have a brotherly affection for him. He comes to visit once a week, receiving special clearance from the board to help in my rehabilitation. But it’s all for his sake. He masquerades as the world’s hero, enjoying the legacy his father built. He has an ego that will not be tested, and God help anyone who tries.

To suppress my powers, my room is a constant blaze of light. It used to be a solarium in the garden, now outfitted into my own special birdcage. I’m allowed to paint still, because the higher-ups think of it as therapeutic for me. I play along, and in a way, it actually helps with my anger. But what really helps me are Ben’s visits. When Ben arrives, I’m taken to a special room, where my shackles are removed and I’m given a special outfit gifted by him. Any second now, he’ll make his appearance, we’ll have a chat, and then I’ll tie him down.

The door opens right as I’m looking at the outfit. “You’re not wearing it.” Ben sounds disappointed, almost offended.

“I keep telling you, Ben, I don’t need leather or lace for what we do.” I drop the negligee back into the box. “Just take off that stupid fucking suit and stand in the corner.”

“I want you to wear it. That’s why I always buy you one.” Ben steps into the shadow of the table, and I grab him.

My hands reach through the panel of darkness, gripping him and tossing him against the wall. He grunts and moans, and I can tell he’s already hard. My hands scramble up him, holding down his legs, his arms, growing into many fingers coiled tightly around his throat. The shadows slap at him. “You shut the fuck up. You hear me? You know the rules and you constantly disobey them! You petulant, filthy, little boy.” I slap him with my own hands, and see him biting back a pleased smile. “Fucking pig,” I snarl.

“God, I missed you,” Ben moans.

“I said shut up!” I force a blob of shadow into his mouth, and he groans in ecstasy. I get off on it too, being able to beat around the world’s most beloved hero. My childhood friend and tormentor in the same breath. He turned me into the villain I am, and I turned him into my willing sex doll. I may not be inclined to romance, but a girl has to get her thrills somewhere. I drop Ben, and he hits the floor like a wet sack of flour. “Get up.” I stride over to the bed and sit on the edge. “So, how’s the outside world going?”

Ben gets up slowly. “You dropped me right on my boner.”

“That’s not what I asked you about, piggy.” I narrow my eyes at him. “We’re making small talk while I decide what you’re good for.”

He crawls on hands and knees to me, kissing my feet. “I met with that new little superhero freak today.” He kisses up my leg. “The candy cane one.”

“Oh, Spite. I like him.” I grab a fistful of Ben’s hair, yanking it so he looks up at me. “Are you jealous?”

Ben remains silent. Perfect. I know exactly what I want to do today. I lick over my sharp teeth, wondering if I’ll taste blood today. “He’s young and vibrant, not to mention he seems genuine in his personality. Unlike some people.” My shadows tug down my orange prison pants as I continue to tighten my fist in his hair. “He’s growing in popularity day by day.” I smirk. “Didn’t he move you down another spot in the polls?”

The look on Ben’s face is so delicious. I know he hates it. After years of being number one, he’s down to third. I scoot my hips out once my pants are off and firmly smash his face between my legs. He struggles, but I rub myself against him and moan loudly, covering up his pissed hissing. His tongue finds me, and he licks between wheezes. “God, you’re pathetic!” I yank Ben back to let him breathe. “All these years, and you still can’t do that right.”

“You got me pissed, Anna.” Benlicks his lips.

“You’re always pissed,” I sneer at him. I smash his face back against me, and my shadows let his hands go. He immediately starts stroking himself, which makes me happy.

“How dare you!” I force him back onto the cold concrete flooring, where he’s restrained by the many shadows coming out from under the bed. “You know the rules! You dare touch yourself in my presence?”

Ben smiles. “You’re so beautiful today.”

I plant my foot on his face. “Pathetic moron.” The shadow hands remove the rest of his clothes, and I’m treated to the sight of his more recent wounds. “What the hell happened?” I titter. “Did you fall down and break your hip?” I remove my foot from his face and walk around him.

Ben grimaces. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Come on, now. I’m angry at you but, as a friend, I’m still concerned.” I touch a particularly nasty bruise just below his sternum. “Who did you get into a fight with?”

Ben refuses to answer me. I have a shadow choke him. “Answer me, you dumb shit.”

“Beast,” Ben coughs out.

“I like her. I’d love to make her my partner. Remember those days?” I straighten up, and a shadow creeps between Ben’s legs, grasping his balls hard and making him whine. “Before you took your father’s title, you said we would always be a team. You used me, so now I use you.” I take my hair and tie it back, then kneel so my thighs are on either side of Ben’s head. “Take a deep breath. You’ll need it.”

When Ben’s father died, there were concerns about who would take up the Mr. Miraculous mantle. It was a blow to Ben that he wasn’t considered; being his son and all, he thought he would be the first one asked. He tried taking on Rabid to prove himself, but was overpowered. It wasn’t until I came in and saved his ass that he realized what his best superpower was: controlling me.

“Please,” he begged. “Say you came in too late and found me victorious. I beg you, Anna. I need this. This is the only time I’ll ask for this.”

Like a fool, I let him take credit for defeating Rabid, which did get him brownie points, but not his father’s title. After that, I lent my abilities to Ben to help him bring down his foes. Eventually, he became the new Mr. Miraculous, and turned the title into the mononym Miraculous. And still, I didn’t see I was being used.

I take a break after my first orgasm, reading the newspaper while Ben remains hard and cold on the floor. “C’mon, Anna,” he pants.

“I’m sorry, I can’t hear rude pigs.” I snap the newspaper loudly.

Ben struggles, but the sad fact he has to face is that I’m the stronger of the two of us. As long as he’s here, he won’t be breaking free of my shadows. “You fucking beautiful demon, come here and finish me. I beg you!”

“What?”

He growls in frustration. “Please, my master, my beautiful, frightening master. I beg you! I pray to you! Come back and fulfill me.”

I roll my eyes and set the paper down. “How long have we been doing this, Ben? You still have to act like such a brat.”

He grins, reminding me of the little boy who invited me to swim in his pool. “I like seeing you mad.”

I stand above him with my arms crossed. “Don’t smile. It makes me sick.”

Ben bites his lip. “Do you wanna spank me?”

“Ew, no. Not when you talk like that.” My shadows tighten around him, choking him and squeezing his nuts. I sit down on his stomach and look at my nails. “They won’t let me have nail polish anymore. Such a shame. I used to have an eggplant color that made my skin look so pretty.” I look down at him. “Will you get me some?”

Ben gulps, gasping for breath as my shadow releases him. “I can try.”

I wrap my hand around his cock. “I’ll give you the brand and make a list of what I want.” I stroke him dry, knowing he both hates and loves it. “How many will you buy me?”

“How many do you need?” Ben seems pissed, so I take my hand away. “Name it!” he yelps.

I lick my palm and return to palpating him. “It’s been such a long time since I was able to enjoy painting my nails. Maybe ten. Or twenty.”

“Why so many?” Ben pants.

I take my hand away again. “I have pretty hands, don’t I? If I could wear my jewelry again, that would be one thing. But I figure nail polish is easier to smuggle up that puckered asshole of yours.”

He looks at me, panting slowly. “I love your hands.”

I spit into my palm and return to stroking him, focusing around the tip. I roll it against my palm. “Remember when I used to paint your toes?”

“Kind of,” Ben moans in pleasure. He’s enjoying it too much, so the shadows sharply tug at his sack to remind him who’s in control.

I stand and allow Ben to sit up, then wrench his hands behind his back before I plant my fist in his hair. “Stand up.” He does so, moaning softly, pathetically. I pull him towards the table and sit down on the edge. The shadows cover Ben’s eyes, fill his mouth and circle around his arms and chest. “This is all you’re good for,” I snarl at him. I pull him closer, letting him slip inside me. I still don’t understand why, physically, I need him so much. I can’t let him know that, though.

Once he’s inside me, I clamp tight around him, keeping a shadow tightly coiled around the base so he can’t have his fun without my permission. He thrusts inside me, only allowed to move his hips. “You call that fucking?” I snarl at him.

Ben keeps going, and I can see the frustration on his face, the flush creeping down his cheeks to his neck. He wants to come but I won’t let him. I’m the master here, and he will do as I say. When I achieve climax, only then will he receive his reward. I remove the shadows from his face, letting him breathe and see me. “Please,” he drools.

I release the shadows from Ben’s cock and bend him over my lap. With one hand, I stroke him, and with the other I tan his hide. He whines and moans, succumbing finally to what he wants most. “Disgusting.” I snarl. “Clean it up.”

Ben licks his own mess from my hand, and then we lie back in bed. “Thanks for doing this for me,” he says. “I really appreciate it.”

“Cut the crap, Ben,” I scoff at him. “We both know what this is.”

“I think it’s nice,” he murmurs. “I would say it’s like old times but…” He laughs. “We never did this in the old days.”

I sit up in bed. “Next week?”

“Yeah. I’ll probably need it. There’s a meeting coming up at the Hephaestus school, and I’m expecting some big news.”

I pull on my pants. “Aren’t you always?”

He puts on his suit and smooths back his hair. “Thanks for avoiding my face.”

I take my hair down and run my fingers through it. “You promised me nail polish. I’ll send you a list of what I want.”

“Yeah, of course.” Ben stretches and his back pops. “I feel so much better! I’m not as pissed about my rank as I was.”

“You will be again, I’m sure of that.” I stand on the X in the middle of the floor. The lights flash on, making my shadows recede away. “Go fuck yourself.”

“Fuck you too, Anna.” Ben salutes, putting on the metaphorical mask of the upright superhero before leaving the room. I hate that mask. I much prefer the face he shows in this room. At least I know it.

If Ben had to go head to head with some of the others in the field, I doubt he’d hold a candle to them. Hephaestus is the best in the game, but his attitude is dour, and he refuses interviews. Meanwhile, Ben has active social media accounts, takes all the interviews he can, visits children in hospitals, and jumps on every photo op. He’s popular because of his savvy and charm, not because he can fight off villains or threats to the common people. If anyone pays attention, they’d realize he only does team-ups now.

The top two heroes in the popularity polls are Sunstone and Spite, fresh from Hephaestus' Hero School. Sunstone is everything Ben wishes he was - genuine with his smiles, his charisma, his joy in helping people. Spite is popular for his powers and snarky banter. He’s been made into an internet meme several times on the same social media platforms Ben has worked so hard to build. So in order to boost his ranking and his social media interaction, Ben formed a team with Spite and Sunstone, which is all levels of pathetic. Mostly, he looks like an attempt at a ‘cool dad’ hanging out with his young sons, pushing fifty and trying to hang with boys half his age. I’m sure the internet has ripped him to shreds by now, which has probably exacerbated his shitty attitude.

I’m looking forward to the next visit from my mother, and I can’t wait to give her my newest painting. I know that, on some level, she’s disappointed with me. After all, I’ve ended up on the side she feared my father would drag me to. But she knows what it’s like to be used by a man for his own gain, so I’m sure she understands on some level.

My mother used to be a top-notch investigative journalist, and she and her team would get into the thick of superhuman battles. She still works as a correspondent and has her own podcast, and being the mother of the supervillain Anomaly has earned her extra attention, allowing her to complete books and various other projects. She’s my hero. None of those superpowered folk can hold a candle to her.

Every nook and cranny of my room is filled with little LED lights, set on a timer to change color through the day. I have to sleep under a red light, which is its own kind of ominous. But when my mother comes to visit, the light becomes a poppy shade of yellow so I can’t use the shadows or my puppetry. I have to stay seated when my mother comes in, and my hands are bound to the tabletop.

Mom enters looking like a million bucks. “There’s my girl!” She ignores the guard to hug me, then takes her seat across from me. “How was your week?”

“The same.” I motion to the door. “I have a new painting for you.”

“Wonderful. I have something for you this week, too.” Mom smiles brightly as she pushes a notebook with a manuscript to the center of the table. “I finally found it.”

I click my tongue. “It?” I take the manuscript, which has a blank cover. The inside page talks about how my mother met my father. Her first two books were about my teen years, and the second told the intimate details of our relationship before and after my incarceration. Both books were written in an attempt to drum up sympathy for me, which worked splendidly. Ben visits me regularly to make sure my mother doesn’t attempt to write another tell-all, particularly one about him and his father.

My mother and I have another secret between us. I have a baby sister from an affair between my mother and Ben’s father, Mr. Miraculous. Ben’s father made my mother promise not to tell a soul, which was fine with her until Ben took the mantle of his father. She felt Sunny would be better suited to the title, since she knows Ben as well as I do.

“Sunny sends her love as well.”

A picture of me holding baby Sunny goes with me wherever I go. She’s a genuine ball of sunshine, but some of that occult magic must have still been in Mom’s womb, because she does have some demonic traits like me. Her sharp teeth are cuter than mine, like a kitten’s. She can twist her head all the way around, while I can only do it halfway. She’s a very chipper and upbeat kid, but if she gets testy her other side makes itself known. It doesn’t happen often, but this other Sunny is ten times as powerful as her father ever was.

I pick up the notebook, which is old and frayed, but I remember the cover image instantly, the big smiley face with the stick body. I open up the book and see my father’s handwriting. “Is he…” I hesitate to continue.

“No,” Mom says decisively. “All of this was in the storage shed he left to me.”

I sigh heavily. I’ve not seen my father since my mother divorced him, which is all well and good. I would have just been turned into a worse monster than the one Ben turned me into. But it did leave a lot of things unanswered, especially after Sunny was born. What was his goal? Who was I supposed to be? Why my mom?

“It’s all I could find. I’m sure his fellow cult members got hold of everything else. I looked through it, but I can’t read half of it.”

I flip through the pages, never having seen this script before, but understanding it all the same. The letters seemed to float off the page and glow before my eyes, communicating spells and secrets that should be common knowledge to me. “I can see it,” I tell Mom. “I’ll try my best and transcribe it for you so you can research it.”

I place the manuscript back over the notebook. I’ve been so caught up I almost forgot something important I wanted to ask her. “How is Oddity?” I ask hopefully.

Oddity is my horse, my companion as a villain. She was my mighty mount, and I would ride her like a bat out of hell. My shadows would envelop her, making her the powerful fury of the night she was. I love her dearly, and I miss her painfully. Unlike my mother and Sunny, she can’t visit me.

My mother sighs heavily, not a good sign. “She’s old, Anna.”

“What’s happened?” I lurch in my chair. “Mom, what’s wrong with her?”

My mother looks me directly in the eyes. “She has a tumor, Anna. The vet says he could operate, but because of her age…”

It feels like the world has sunken out from under me. “Oh no.”

“I wanted to wait until the tests came back to tell you,” she whispers. She reaches out, touching my hands. “I’m so sorry, baby.”

I want to see Oddity. I need to see her. But there’s no possible way that would be allowed. Why did I have to go and ask Ben to smuggle me nail polish? I’ll have to play dirty in order to get him to do me this favor.

[idkthisisjustforfanfic]

that makes four.

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PART 6

If sharing a glass of wine with Harry the other night didn’t make you wish things could go back to normal--whatever that was--seeing him with CeCe before bed did.

She stomped her feet in the bathroom when you brushed through her hair. “I’m not tired! I want to stay up later with Maeve!”

Maybe that was another parenting fail in the last year--giving Maeve a later bedtime. She had bargained with you long and hard. She wanted more time on her phone but you wouldn’t budge. When you had heard enough of the I’m practically a teenager, mom! you figured there probably wasn’t an easy way to tell her that in two years she’d look back at herself and laugh.

So you caved, which you were doing more of lately but only with the silly stuff: bedtime, playing outside, dessert before dinner on occasion and even a PG-13 movie at a friend’s house when Maeve really got snippy with you.

But your energy was draining. After all the shit you’d put up with, you figured that hearing a few swears or seeing a high school party wouldn’t kill your 11-year-old.

CeCe, on the other hand, might be the death of you.

She was more outspoken than her sister, if that was possible. She had lungs on her that carried her voice through the house, especially when she whined.

“I want to stay up late!”

“You can’t,” you told her firmly. “I’m sorry. You’ll thank me tomorrow when you wake up refreshed.”

She made a face at you in the bathroom mirror, she probably didn’t understand what you meant but you smiled back at her anyway.

“I don’t want to sleep.”

You didn’t reply, instead let out a sigh and ignored the way she pouted until she stomped her feet again. “I want to watch TV!”

She smacked a fist on the counter when you didn’t reply, your eyes went wide with shock. “Cecelia Rose,” you scolded. “You do not yell at mommy like that or bang your fist on the counter.”

Maeve was nowhere to be found, likely scrolling in a group chat with other pre-teens who sent too many emojis. You almost wished she’d pop her head in to intervene--sometimes she was good at talking CeCe off the ledge, even if just to distract her.

The next best thing, though, when Harry knocked on the door and peered through the crack. “Everything alright?”

“Just dandy,” you forced a smile.

“Mommy is making me sleep,” CeCe frowned up at him.

“She is?”

“She is,” she nodded. “And I’m not tired.”

“Well, mommy has good reasoning, you’ll be sleepy tomorrow if you don’t sleep now.”

She didn’t seem to care, she crossed her arms over her chest once you finished the braid at the base of her neck and clapped her on the shoulder. “I won’t be tired.”

“Do you want to read together?”

She looked up at him with narrowed eyes, almost like she was waiting for the catch. When he smiled again, she let out a hefty sigh but headed for the door. “Fine.”

Harry smiled over his shoulder at you and followed behind her, trailing her down the hall until she took the left turn into her bedroom with a butterfly carpet. She walked over the bookshelf, picked out The Big Book of Bedtime Stories, and pulled the sheets back.

You were in the doorway, watching as she fluffed her own pillow and then looked up at Harry. “Are you coming?”

She patted the spot next to her, gesturing for him to get close enough for her to fall asleep on his shoulder. He hesitated, stole a glance in your direction and then did as she said. He adjusted the pillow behind his head and CeCe wriggled beside him until she was comfortable. When she was, she nestled right into him, looked up at you and then said: “are you coming?”

You paused, parted your lips to let her down gently, but then something in you tugged your torso towards his. He was surprised by this, too, shifted in the tiny bed to make room for you to crawl over and squish yourself between CeCe and the wall.

Harry, with a smirk on his lips, looked over at you when he opened the book to CeCe’s favorite story. “Comfortable?”

“Go ahead,” you rolled your eyes, ignoring the silliness of the moment but somehow wishing it was routine.

You put a hand on her pajama pants, petting her mindlessly as you listened to Harry’s voice when he thumbed through the pages. You’d had moments like these with Luke, when Maeve was tiny and CeCe was barely a thought. It’d been a while since you laid in bed with another adult, your child between you as she let out sleepy sighs and fluttered her eyelashes against her cheek.

The lights were dim now, you watched as his fingers pulled each page and tried to forget the way they pulled moans from your mouth.

He stopped halfway through, looked over at you and smirked when her breathing got heavier, but he kept going. He’d learned: if you stop too soon, she’d bolt awake and tell you she’d never fallen asleep to begin with.

He carried on like that for a while, glancing over to see if her eyes were open, sometimes catching your gaze but looking away quickly. Timid, like he was just as unsure as you were.

He finished a story and started a new one, and for a moment you wondered if he kept reading just to not disturb the scene: the two of you with your daughter sandwiched between. If someone looked in on it from the outside, they’d think you were a family.

Eventually he cut himself off mid sentence, derailed the story of the princess and the pea to ask you: “should I keep going?”

“No,” you laughed a little. “She’s out. We’re fine.”

He shut the book and pulled away from her gently. You lifted her head a little and tugged your arm out from the sheets and he placed the book on the desk to the right of her bed. He stuck his hand out to help you climb over her quietly. She stirred, opened her eyes and looked up at the two of you.

“Love you mommy,” she said, you bent down to press a kiss to her forehead.

“Love you too, sweetie.”

“Love you, Harry,” she said through a sigh, eyes already closing when you turned around to leave. His eyes locked on yours, caught off guard and unsure of how to reply, but he looked down at her, lips in a small smile.

“Love you too, CeCe.”

And just like that, your life turned to a personally targeted and especially cruel single-mom hell. It was already there, practically. He played outside with your kids? He drove Maeve to play dates and picked CeCe up from ballet? He cooked dinner and poured you wine and tucked deep inside your memory were images of his head between your legs and his fingers laced with yours.

And now he said he loved one of them? You made a beeline for your bedroom, shut the door and didn’t say goodnight because you knew it would only get worse from here.

You were right. It was torture. Daydream, fairytale level torture when he helped Maeve with her homework the next night and even more painful when CeCe fell asleep with her head in his lap after a movie.

Maybe the worst part, though, was when you sat beside him on the patio a few nights later. The sun had set and you had a glass of crisp rosé in your hand when he turned to you.

“Look what CeCe brought home the other day,” he moved his phone to show you the screen. A drawing of stick figures, red and green and blue under a yellow house. He pinched the screen to zoom in, the actual artwork was nowhere to be found.

“What is it?” You tilted your head to the side and let out a quiet laugh. Her drawing needed work, but the color choices were bright and vibrant, just like her.

“Well, it’s us I think.”

“Us?” You looked up at him for a moment, CeCe hit the tennis ball into the pool and Maeve let out a frustrated groan.

“That’s her, with the tutu obviously. That’s Maeve and you right there--I’m assuming, by the way. This is all interpretation.”

You let out a laugh but watched when he zoomed in on the other stick figure.

“And that’s me, I think,” he tilted his head sideways now, looked at it closer. "With the guitar." You reached out your hand, brought his phone closer when he let you have it.

“When did she give this to you?”

“Monday--no, Tuesday, I think.”

“What did she say?”

He shrugged when you looked up. Maeve had gotten the leaf skimmer and CeCe clapped when the tennis ball was back on dry land.

“She said she drew ‘home.’”

“Home?”

He nodded, looked back over at you with raised eyebrows, a sense of nonchalance when he held his palm out to retrieve his phone. “Cute, right?”

It was cute, obviously. It was sweet and endearing and then you asked: “where’s the actual drawing?”

“On my nightstand.” He watched as CeCe tugged a hoola hoop from a bucket of toys. “Might frame it and show her, she’d be so excited.”

“She would be,” you nodded. “She’d love that.”

He left it alone, showed Maeve how to swing the bat better before you eventually decided it was too dark to sit outside. They sat at the island and ate ice cream, cherries and sprinkles and Harry even doused his in chocolate sauce.

Your heart ached for the family that CeCe drew: one with less complexity and one where age differences didn’t mean a thing. One where there was no such thing as death or divorce. Just four stick figures beneath a triangular roof with grass scribbled around the edges of paper.

You wished, desperately, that the four of you could be the stick figure family with no worries and no problems. You wished time could freeze and Harry’s house wouldn’t be ready in another 10 days. In a way you wished that Luke didn’t exist, you wished that your life was as simple as it looked on 8 x 11 inch paper with scribbled marker.

**

Zoey stood in your bedroom, lips pushed out in thought when you held up a different necklace. “This one is chunkier which I can’t tell if I like.”

She thought on it for a second, already dressed and ready to go like the timely human she was.

“I like the first one,” she nodded. “It’s more I’m the boss than that one.”

You laughed at her reasoning, held it up to your neck when CeCe burst through the doors with a scowl on her face. “Mommy, Maeve said I’m being stupid and annoying.”

You frowned at her but clasped the necklace around your neck, “that’s not very nice of her. Why’d she say that?”

“Because I was asking her to push me on the swing but she was too busy texting someone.”

You let out a sigh and made a face at Zoey in the mirror. Buying Maeve a cell phone was something you’d thought long and hard about. She begged and begged for one at her birthday, but something felt wrong about handing over a thousand dollar piece of technology to someone who was barely old enough to watch TV unsupervised.

Harry and Luke’s punching incident is what did you in, though. What if Maeve was at a friend’s house and something like that happened? You needed her to be able to contact you in case she felt unsafe or uncomfortable.

You also figured it would be a good way to distract her from what was really going on under your roof: mom fell for the guy who stayed in our guest suite and now it’s a hot mess.

“You’re not stupid or annoying,” Zoey reassured her. “Maeve just thinks she’s too cool for everyone now that she has a phone.”

CeCe let out a dramatic sigh. “You can say that again.”

A knock on the door, she turned around to see Harry. “Maeve said I’m stupid and annoying.”

Harry frowned and knelt in front of her. “That’s not true.”

“Oh I know,” she shrugged. “I just think that’s stupid and annoying of her to say that.”

You bit back a laugh when he looked up at you, shocked by her attitude and her wit before she ran off to her bedroom down the hall.

Harry stood back up and greeted Zoey. “Hi--how’re Shawn and Benny?”

“They’re great, and they’re on their own tonight which I am so grateful for.” She’d been dying for another night out of the house, she talked for weeks about what she wanted to wear and what she was going to drink. “You two should meet, you and Shawn. He’s not a musician by any means but he’s a killer steering wheel drummer when we have the classic rock hits on.”

Harry laughed, looked over to you quickly before nodding in Zoey’s direction. “I’d love that, maybe we could all have dinner.”

You nodded at the suggestion, hooked an earring into place before Harry remembered why he came in.

“Speaking of dinner, I have a meeting with my stylist but I’ll be there tonight, obviously. Probably around 7:15 though, is that alright?”

“Totally fine,” you nodded. He told you a few days earlier that you’d have to drive separately, quelling your anxiety about showing up together and going home together. Your living situation was no one’s business, but having Harry at the launch party to begin with was sure to stir up enough chatter, even if it was mostly from Tristan or Jeff.

You’d been trying to hide your anxiety. This was your biggest launch to date, arguably a step outside your comfort zone and feeling so uncertain about things at home left you feeling more nervous to have your employees and your friends in the same spot. The girls were headed to Shelli’s, a movie night and arts and crafts, she promised.

But it was setting in now, questions and thoughts and worries were bouncing around in your head like a pinball machine.

Would Maeve and CeCe behave for Shelli? Would they get along with each other? Would the launch party go well? Would Tristan bring a date? Would people like the body wash? Would Harry sit next to you at dinner? Would things ever feel normal between the two of you again or would he move out and fade out of your life like he’d never even entered it at all?

Zoey had stepped out into the hallway, phone pressed to her ear as Shawn asked a question about formula.

“You alright?”

Harry was still in the doorway, suit pants on and a white button down as he waited for your answer.

“Yeah,” you nodded. “Just nervous.”

“Hey,” he took a step towards you. “It’s going to be great. You’re going to be great.” He placed a hand on your shoulder and then withdrew it. “You are great.”

You smiled, appreciative of his kindness but already overthinking the way he pulled his hand away, like your skin was too hot to touch or like your bodies coming into contact was suddenly forbidden.

“I just want the body wash to do well and I want the dinner to go smoothly. Tristan always goes overboard with these events and I just hope that the food is good, I mean, I’ve never eaten here before--”

He laughed, “hey, it’s going to be fine. I might be a bit late but I’ll get there and Jeff and I can do something stupid to make you laugh and forget about the stress of it all. Everyone wins.”

You nodded, reassured by his words but also caught off guard by how easy it was to admit: “I’m really glad you’re coming.”

“Me too,” he nodded. “Kind of feels like we haven’t seen each other much lately.”

You lifted your eyebrows at that, a week since Luke’s surprise visit and a week since Harry had so much as looked your way for more than ten seconds. You hadn’t told him to stop, you never said you didn’t want to keep sleeping with him or anything of the sort, but he took your words on the patio to mean that, apparently.

How were you supposed to backtrack? How were you supposed to have a conversation with him about it when there’d never been one in the first place?

If you hadn’t defined it originally, how were you supposed to quantify the change that had occurred as the bruise on his skin faded to a pale yellow?

“Okay,” Zoey laughed, a shake of her head when she ended the call and came back into the master suite. “How hard is it to find the bottle brush in the drawer where it’s literally been for the entirety of Benny’s short life?” She cut herself off when she looked up from her phone to see how close Harry stood to you.

He backed up. “Good luck, you’re going to kill it. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

You nodded. “Yes, right. Thanks.”

He turned on his heel and offered a smile to Zoey, whose eyes immediately flew to yours once he was descending the stairs. You briefed her over lunch shortly after Luke had shown up on your doorstep, but Zoey was decidedly team Harry and had a hard time even admitting that he shouldn't have gotten involved.

Her eyes were wide, lips set in a frown as if she’d just witnessed the most adorable thing. “He likes you so much.”

“No, Zoey, stop.”

“I leave the room for one second and you're having a heart to heart?”

“We weren't having a heart to heart,” you rolled your eyes. “He was just offering some encouragement.”

Partially true. His words were encouraging and that seemed to be the point of him coming up here. But you couldn’t admit to Zoey that part of your anxiety about the night was related to him. It felt stupid to admit that pulling back made you miss him, made you feel like something was missing.

Those feelings left your heart and your head a mess, unsure about what you needed and wanted and even more confused about what was right for everyone.

You turned back to the mirror to put your other earring in place. Zoey didn’t say more, she didn’t need to. She smiled at your reflection and you both knew that your words didn’t even begin to capture the complexity of it all. But you had a launch party to get to.

Your champagne flute was filled when you walked in, which was a great step towards quelling the nerves. Tristan was already working the crowd with grace and poise, smile plastered on his face when he bragged about all of the hard work your team had put in on this.

Zoey was excited to pump and dump in the bathroom, your employees were already plucking hors d'oeuvres from silver platters, and you just tried to ignore the gnawing feeling in your chest of wishing your dad was here. He’d be proud, no doubt, he’d be excited for you and he’d be cracking jokes with Irv in the corner as Jeff tried to keep them under control.

The emptiness that he left in your life was something you’d live with forever, you were sure of this until suddenly there was a man in your house with a dimpled smile and patience for your children that you never saw coming.

Another look around the room, balloons in the corner, high heels and lipstick on the women that made your team what it was. A moment of excitement, of celebration, and yet your heartbeat picked up when you realized that you were here, alone.

You plucked your phone out to check the time, 7:24pm. He’d said 7:15--he clasped his hands on your shoulders like he meant it and you wondered where he was. Tristan pulled you over to another friendly face before you could sink too far down that rabbit hole.

Zoey had Shawn, Shelli had Irv, Jeff always had someone. Even Tristan had Tinder dates for the nights that he got lonely. You had the girls, of course, you had a life that you loved and a job you were proud of. But what did that matter if you didn’t have someone to share it with, to whisper to in the mornings when sun streamed through the windows and you were woken up too early by daughters that begged for adventures?

You’d grown used to feeling that way. Your marriage was over long before the papers were signed, but your father’s sudden decline left you reeling and unsure which way was up.

You’d never admit it aloud, but Harry showing up brought you back down to earth and kept you tethered to a life that felt manageable and doable and somehow possible.

Another glance at the time, 7:32pm. Tristan asked when you wanted to make a toast and thank everyone for coming to celebrate, you made an excuse and tried to buy yourself time like his absence was currency.

You wanted him here, you wanted his arm around your shoulders and you wanted to introduce him to your team--take a bite of his dinner and then bring him home like that was where he belonged.

How embarrassing, though, you talked yourself up enough to let him come and introduce him to the rest of the girls at work, only to be stood up or forgotten or altogether abandoned. Your fantasy of being with him felt even more stupid and naive when you realized that it’d probably never be like that.

Your glass was refilled at 7:49pm, Zoey laughed when your head of marketing recounted the embarrassing moment when a picture of Maeve ended up on the company instagram story.

Frustration, anger, maybe both when the clock struck 8pm. Forty-five minutes late without a text message? But those emotions were drowned out by the judgment: why do you care, he’s not your boyfriend, this doesn’t mean anything.

You answered too quickly when he called, phone pressed to your face: where are you?

Pulling up, down the street, I’m so sorry.

You handed your drink to Tristan, pushed out to the parking lot to find him jogging towards the door in the dark sky.

“Hi, hey, why are you out here?” his smile faded when he could see you were upset.

“I had no clue where you were and you didn’t even bother to text me--” you were stopped dead on the sidewalk, the sky was a light purple and he grabbed your hand to tug you back towards the entrance.

“I’m sorry, I know, my meeting went late and the traffic was terrible, I didn’t want to bother you--”

“You said you’d be here at 7:15 and I’ve been in there by myself--”

He didn’t understand, his eyebrows dipped on his forehead in confusion and he pulled at your arm again. “I know, I’m sorry, but let’s get back in there so you can--”

“No, Harry,” you yanked your hand out of his grasp. A deep breath, a twinkling light above the horizon, a plane on final approach to LAX. “Just give me a minute.”

He sighed, looked over his shoulder to the big windows that allowed a peek into the party. He didn’t say anything, waited for you to speak when the light at the intersection across the street turned green.

“I was stupid for thinking this would be a good idea,” you said aloud, arms crossed in the parking lot. “But it’s fine, it’s not a big deal.”

“It’s obviously a big deal,” he held a hand out, gesturing to the emotion in your voice. “I fucked up, I get that. I’m sorry--but I tried to call you and tell you I was going to be late, something’s wrong with my phone.”

Happy couples strolled out of the restaurant, arms linked with to-go boxes in hand. The air was still warm, streetlights illuminated the wrinkle in his forehead when he took a step forward. “Is this about more than the party?”

You rolled your eyes, annoyed by his ability to read you and sense the real tension beneath the surface. So you lied: “No.”

“Y/N,” he said your name like he knew your words weren’t true. “What’s going on?”

You hesitated for a moment, unsure if you should break the silence that you’d both been living in for weeks. Unspoken, so far--the feelings and the sex and the uncertainty of what it meant had been woven into your life and now you were about to tug the thread and see if it unraveled.

“We’ve been kidding ourselves, Harry, don’t you think?” When he tilted his head to the side, you took it as a cue to continue. “We’ve been acting like a couple and you’ve been acting like the father of my children and we can’t do that.”

His lips parted and your heart seemed to stop when he didn’t say anything. He licked his lips, hands in his pockets when he said: “okay.”

“Okay?”

An incredulous tone in your voice put him on the defense.

“What do you want me to say?” His shoulders lifted to his ears, a shake of his head when he dropped your gaze. “Living with you and spending time with the girls has been the greatest thing I’ve had all year, I mean that. But it’s your house, they’re your children. It’s your family.”

He was right, but it didn’t mean the words didn’t sting like salt in a wound when he asked: “Do you want me to move out?”

“I think that’s a good idea.”

He scoffed, upset or bothered or maybe both. “I was never trying to overstep any boundaries.”

“I know you weren’t,” you said quickly. “That’s the problem, all of this happened so naturally and you fit into our lives so well and the girls fell in love with you and I--”

You cut yourself off, clamped your mouth together as if the words would pry their way out.

“You what?”

“I don’t want them to get hurt again.”

He pointed a finger to his chest, anger on his face. “By me? You think I would do something to hurt them?”

“Not intentionally, Harry,” you let your arms flail against your sides. “But that doesn’t mean that you won’t. Their dad left, their grandfather died, and then you moved in and suddenly it’s like you’re the missing piece they never had but that’s not realistic!”

“Why not?!” He was bothered now, more emotion in his eyes when his hands went up to run through his hair.

“Because you’re you. You’re a musician. You’re recording an album and going on tour and you’re not really able to be present. You couldn’t even show up tonight!”

“I’m not Luke,” he shook his head.

“I didn’t say that.”

“Then why does it bother you that I was late? Why does that matter if I’m here now?”

“Because if you’d do it to me you’d do it to them. We don’t need to be left by another man this year.”

You didn’t mean for the words to come off so biting and harsh. He nodded slowly, chest deflated before he brought his eyes back up to you. “Fine. I can get my stuff and stay at Jeff’s.”

The shift in his demeanor felt heavy, his shoulders angled away and suddenly the magnetic pull between your chests was no longer there, like the thread had been snipped altogether and your words had been the scissors.

“I--I’m not trying to be a dick.”

“It’s fine, Y/N. I understand.”

“I just don’t want them to get hurt.”

“Or do you not want to get hurt?”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“Forget it,” he said, a few steps towards you when his face softened. “Tell everyone I say hi. I’ll go get my things before the girls are home and I’ll be out of your hair.”

He let his arm snake around your waist, a kiss to the side of your head before you could stop him--not that you would have.

He left you there in the parking lot, alone again for the third time this year, walked out on and deserted when your eyes welled with tears. You turned on your heels to head inside, hoping that Tristan had kept things together and hoping that the champagne was still flowing.

Jeff found you first, hand on your elbow when he spotted you in the hallway near the bathroom, mascara on your cheeks when you tried to soak up tears with a folded napkin. “Hey--where have you been?”

“Harry’s moving out,” you said it quickly. “He’s going to--uh--he’ll stay at your place, I think, for now.”

He looked over his shoulder and back at the gathering behind you. “Is he here?”

“I found him in the parking lot--he left, though.”

“What happened?”

Where did you start? When was the line crossed? Was it when he started playing with the girls in the backyard? Was it when he carried CeCe up to her bed after Maeve’s sleepover? Or was it all the way back when he came to your birthday party and kissed you at the top of the stairs in an empty house?

“Nothing, it’s just time for him to move out,” you shook your head, embarrassed by the emotion streaming down your cheeks. You tried to laugh it off, shook your head and blotted your face again. Now wasn’t the time for this conversation and it certainly wasn’t the time for the tears.

“Y/N, stop. You’re letting him walk out of your life just like that?”

You looked up at him, thrown off by his question. “You don’t even know what happened. I’m fine, it’s all fine.”

“No--I don’t know, but I also know that I’ve never seen you as happy as you are with him and the girls.���

“He’s twenty-four, Jeff.”

“So what? That’s going to stop you from doing what’s right for you?”

“How is it right for me? He can’t be the type of person that Maeve and CeCe need.”

“Can he actually not be, or is the age thing getting in the way?”

“I can’t talk to you about this right now,” you pulled away from him, bothered by his strong opinions and his know-it-all attitude. Some things never changed.

“Don’t ruin something good just because you don’t know how it will end.”

You gave him the finger as you walked away, forced out a laugh and tried to flip the switch: happy, grateful, excited and ready for another glass of champagne.

He dropped it then, you left him with no choice but to follow you back out to the party. He ate mini cheesecakes before the crowd started to disperse and drove you home, a kiss on the cheek before you climbed out. Call me in the morning, he said. Translation: I hope you change your mind overnight.

Harry’s car was gone, and if you had to guess, the bed upstairs was made and the drawers were empty. His keys weren’t on the hook by the back door and when Shelli dropped off the girls and they raced inside, Maeve’s face fell.

“Where’s Harry?”

“Oh,” you hadn’t thought this far ahead, still numb from the whiplash of emotions. “He’s at Uncle Jeff’s--he’s gonna stay there from now on, I think.”

“Wait, so he moved out?”

“Harry’s gone?” CeCe asked.

“Not forever, no, no--he’s just not going to live here.”

“Why not?”

“He has to work,” you spit out quickly. “He’s busy.” What were you supposed to tell them? Mommy’s an idiot.

“Why does that mean he can’t live here?”

“Because he just can’t,” you said, a sigh when you knew the answer wasn’t good enough for Maeve. She must have sensed the emotion in your voice, though, because she didn’t push it.

“Can you bring your sister upstairs and start getting ready for bed, please?”

Shelli was at the island, quiet and observant when Maeve let out a reluctant sigh but ushered CeCe forward. They climbed in silence, and when the faucet was turned on, all bets were off.

“What on earth happened?”

“He can’t stay here, Shelli. We can’t do whatever it was we were doing.”

“Which was...”

“Pretending that he was their dad or something and me pretending that sleeping with him was normal.”

“And where does being happy factor into this nonsense equation?”

“It doesn’t.” You busied yourself at the sink, grabbed for the sponge and wiped invisible crumbs from the granite to keep your hands busy. “After Luke and my dad, I was just stupid, okay? It was poor judgment.”

She set her purse down on a stool and watched you closely. “Why does your happiness always come last, Y/N?”

“Because! My happiness doesn’t matter if the decision is stupid. Me plus Harry just doesn’t make sense!” You whispered at her, voice wrought with emotion. “He’s so young and busy and he’s in the industry and--”

“Is that what this is about?”

“Which part?”

“The industry, him being a musician.”

You waved her off like she wasn’t sniffing the truth out of you with ease. “It’s just a piece of it.”

“Y/N, just because your parents’ marriage didn’t work doesn’t mean you’re destined for the same future.”

You stopped wiping at that. “Really? Cause I’m thirty-two and already divorced.”

“But that’s because Luke is an asshole,” she reasoned, “not because of you or the girls.”

A sigh from between your lips, fervent wiping again with the tough side of the sponge, you were sure you felt something sticky. “Well, I doubt Harry would ever be the kind to settle down. That’s unrealistic. He’s famous and busy and he probably is sick of being on carpool duty anyway--probably wants to get back to snorting cocaine off of someone’s tits.”

She let out a quick laugh, shook her head. “You are really in love with him, aren’t you?”

“No,” you looked up at her again and then back at the counter. “I’m just being honest.”

“I don’t think he was ever snorting cocaine off of anyone’s anything. I might not know him as well as Jeffrey does, but, he seems pretty happy here with you three.”

“The girls loved having him here,” you said the thought aloud, it escaped into the air before you could realize Shelli didn’t need anymore ammunition.

“And did you?”

“I mean, I don’t know,” you moved back to the sink, wrung out the sponge and then turned to face her. “It was nice, I guess.”

“Well, then I guess that makes four.”

“Four what?”

“Four people who were all happy with the way things were going. Before you went and turned it upside down out of fear.”

“Okay,” you held up your hands, hoping to end the conversation. It was too late and you were tired--the final glass of champagne had your eyes heavy in the passenger seat of Jeff’s car. “I need to sleep.”

She let out a sigh and picked up her purse, moved around the counter to come and wrap her arms around you. “Don’t let your past ruin your future.”

“Goodnight,” you said sweetly, hoping that your tone would usher her out of the house and into her car, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

She laughed, called over her shoulder when she made her way for the door. “Don’t let the bed bugs bite!”

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[lanawinters-ily]

A New Life

Years in the acting industry & enduring the media take their toll on Audrey. Is it too late for Billie to save her?

Pairing: Audrey Tindall x Billie Dean Howard

Word count: 4600

Warnings: restrictive eating disorder, mentions of harming, mentions of death. If you believe this could be triggering for you, do not read, but I have a message for you at the bottom of the fic in bold.

Disclaimer: this is not based on my story, simply what I have learned along the way. Eating disorders don’t have a type - they can happen to any age, any gender, any race, any body type. They don’t pick a certain ‘brand’ of people, it is an illness that could effect anyone. Restrictive disorders aren’t the only type of ED, here is a link that explains some types & the signs to look out for (also look up diabulimia for diabetics). You never know, you could help save somebody’s life, or your own, one day. Helplines for eating disorders are available online, so use them if you are struggling, & let someone know so you don’t have to battle this alone.

Audrey stared at herself in the mirror. She did this practically all the time now; scrutinising every inch of visible skin, every curve, every blemish. The actress felt imperfect, far from whole, & it drove her to insanity. She had always had insecurities from adolescence, the typical awkward teen stages turning into brutal bashings of the entertainment industry. Audrey felt as if she couldn’t escape - she was simply never good enough. Too chunky, then too skinny, not experienced enough, & now too old. The list could go on, & the blonde wondered if it was just her that was the issue, or if everyone was treated like this. Nevertheless, Audrey was going to stop at nothing to achieve perfection, this time in her body now that her career was reaching a high point.

As said before, the actress had always been critical of herself, but it felt more real when others had started to point out her weaknesses. Audrey welcomed constructive feedback on her work, so had never actually had a problem with much of the media through her career, until she started filming My Roanoke Nightmare & met Rory Monaghan. The ginger actor was slightly more high profile than the blonde, so combined with the age gap, their relationship drew a lot of unwarranted attention from the tabloids.

Suddenly, Audrey felt as if she had aged 20 years overnight. Pictures were snapped everywhere she went, deliberately trying to capture every bare face, every bad hair day, just to sell the story that Rory was too good for this ‘older woman’ & that Audrey should stick with her own age as she simply wasn’t pretty enough for a younger man. The relationship was supposedly about money, fame, media attention, or Rory’s apparent ‘mommy issues’ (even though he called his mother at least once a week to check on her).

So really, their union was about anything but love. The poison created by the journalists & the public slowly started to seep into the relationship, creating strain that couldn’t be ignored. Both actors valued their careers highly, rightly, as they had both worked incredibly hard to get where they were. A divorce was imminent although each person still felt very in love with the other, they both felt that it was bad publicity that could destroy their futures if the marriage continued.

Of course, fate intervened on the sequel of their successful show, Return to Roanoke. Rory was murdered, slashed across the throat & hung above in the trees, where Audrey had found him soon after. She had never felt so sick to her stomach, so broken, so numb yet feelings all too overwhelming. The universe had refreshed her career by removing Rory from the equation, & for boosting the actress’s success from the sudden ‘sympathy’ articles.

But Audrey’s love had gone.

She had finally been made aware of how cruel the world was, from Rory’s early death but also from how she had been treated for the duration of their time together. How could the world not understand that love was love? Not a publicity stunt, not a projection of trauma - just two people united by attraction from the inside out. It seemed that only she knew this, & it felt impossible to express.

Audrey felt as if she could never be perfect. Who could, when you try your hardest to make other people happy, but just get it thrown back in your face? She was old, she was past it, she would never feel happiness again.

Then along came Billie Dean Howard.

Billie Dean was the definition of angelic in Audrey’s eyes. She was ethereal, a shining blonde with a face that radiated eternal youth. When they first met, the actress didn’t know if she wanted to be Billie, or to be with Billie, but all she knew was that the medium was everything she was not. The media didn’t criticise this relationship, both women were similar age, similar success, just similar in general. But the damage had already been done. Audrey never really felt truly happy despite Billie Dean giving her everything she could ask for & all of the love in the world, because it felt like time was running out. Was it for her time with Billie, her success, or for life in general? The blonde didn’t know, but all she could visualise was the hourglass emptying; sand slipping through the grips of time to plummet into her empty pit of memories.

Audrey had gotten into the habit of critiquing every move, every action when around Billie Dean, starting in public spaces due to media coverage, but the routine soon became so familiar that she did it even when alone. Each laugh was too high when Billie would make a joke, she was too clumsy when walking, her fashion sense wasn’t as glamorous as her girlfriend’s; the list was endless. This time the articles weren’t saying this, just Audrey. Nothing was ever good enough for her anymore, & it now went far further than despairing of her character.

At first it was an increase in exercise. Audrey simply believed that she could get a little more toned, lose a little weight around the middle, that was all. Then it became obsessive, the actress doing reps between takes at work, & even if Billie Dean left the room for a few minutes. But it wasn’t enough, she still felt out of control.

But what can you control when nothing in your life can be manipulated to your will? Why, food of course.

Salads were Audrey’s fixation for a while, endless dieting accounts on Instagram telling her that carbs were the Devil’s food & that it was impossible to consume them without gaining shedloads of weight. Then even that became too much. Each bite screamed unhealthy, overflowed with calories until the blonde felt so full that she could scream - obviously she wasn’t physically full of anything, just a stomach full of air. Really, cutting out these nutrition groups & reducing food to tiny bites was more damaging than eating a balanced diet, but of course when you’re sick you can’t rationalise this fact.

These accounts were bullshit, made up stories of taking out while food groups in attempt to prevent ‘bloat’ or to help exercise. When in reality people lie, or make up theories when they really have no clue on the human body & how it processes food, or they just want to promote products that ‘work miracles’. It’s all ignorant, & it is incredibly harmful because when people are vulnerable, & have imperfections, companies target that to gain attention, no matter the cost of life.

Audrey was one of millions of unsuspecting people being fed the untruths of social media & capitalism, but all she could think of was her body in the mirror in front of her eyes - she no longer had the energy to comprehend in anything else. It was her body until she died, which actually didn’t seem as frightening anymore. At least she would finally be perfect.

Through her haze of obsessive thoughts, the blonde peered back into the looking glass in front of her. Everything was wrong. Audrey welled up with tears & sobbed at the unachievable nature of her goals, not even sure anymore just what she could do to shed the last few pounds she craved to lose. Even as she dried the water from her eyes, her view was still distorted, whether it was dysmorphia or dizziness.

The sight in front of her seemed warped, like a cruel joke in a hall of mirrors. To a typical person, Audrey was gaunt & pale looking, extremely unhealthy because of how much weight she had dropped over the last few weeks. But to the sick blonde, it was all too much, trying to make her hands reach through & tug on the flesh to mould it to her touch. Audrey was not clay, could not be prodded & poked until she reached the perfect model, & she resented herself for it. If only she could cut into her skin & remove the contents from within, that would really solve her problems.

Suddenly the door slammed downstairs. Audrey jumped at the unexpected noise, & looked confused at her phone to find the time. Surely ten minutes ago it was only 2pm?

The clock read differently. It was 6:30, meaning that her girlfriend finished work around half an hour ago & had probably bought dinner with her, as she did on busier days. Time is not logical in a disordered mind; hours feel like minutes as the whirling thoughts consume the mind & poison every aspect until there is only hatred. Almost half a day had passed & all Audrey had done was stare at her reflection with enough venom to kill a thousand men.

Oh, dinner. The dreaded word, unavoidable & scarier than the childhood monster under the bed. The actress could put on a brave façade, hide under feigned illness, or make up excuses, but she knew that Billie Dean would catch up eventually.

“Just one more week,” her mind repeated; “a few more pounds, can’t you do that? Keep in control & it will all go how you want. You will be perfect if you keep this up by then, that’s what you want, isn’t it?”

Yes, of course that was what Audrey wanted – a few more meals could go amiss for happiness that couldn’t be bought any other way. She seemed to be forgetting this was what she had told herself week after week for the past few months.

Billie would just have to wait a little longer, though a ‘little longer’ could be a lifetime for a sick brain.

“Babygirl? Are you here honey?”

It was time. The curtain was lifting & Audrey had no choice but to perform. It was funny that way, that her career & the cause of her hate was also the habit that was allowing it to stay. The blonde was an actress, she spent all her work life pretending to be someone she wasn’t, feeling emotions that she didn’t connect to altogether, so it was a natural instinct to play a happy Audrey at home, when her true self felt as if it was crumbling out of reach.

“There you are sweetheart. I’ve been looking for you everywhere! How are you, my love?” Billie gushes as she drifts into the bedroom & pulls Audrey in for a gentle hug. The actress tensed up; another defence mechanism brought about by her insecurities of her body.

She didn’t want anyone as whole, as angelic as Billie Dean Howard touching her until she was ready, until she felt fully satisfied with all of her ‘work’, despite the fact that the medium was her girlfriend. Part of it was a fear of repulsion, that Billie would leave any second once she realised just how disgusting & imperfect Audrey was, but another part of the blonde knew just how sick she was & was afraid of change if her lover ever figured it out.

But Billie Dean already knew.

Disordered eating is a private struggle, the sufferer often taking every measure possible to conceal their behaviours & intentions from those around them, but Billie knew her girlfriend like the back of her hand. At first, she had thought Audrey was having an affair, from how long she was away from home, how they would never eat as a couple, how she would avoid affection whenever they were together. However, after observing closer, the medium saw a familiarity in the shorter blonde’s odd shift in demeanour.

When Billie Dean was young, her elder brother had an eating disorder. Unfortunately, the older Howard son was a little overweight to begin with, so even though he actually weighed a perfectly healthy amount, he was encouraged to lose a few pounds & given ‘healthier choices’; fuelling the insatiable desire of his eventual disorder, stoking the fire until it was too raging to be controlled. Of course, when their parents noticed the habits spiralling out of control & took their teenager to the hospital, they were refused treatment, not only because the boy seemed a ‘normal weight’ but also because he was male, stigma chasing at them from every angle. Little Billie had to watch her brother scream at every plate of food, watch him lose hair & snap his nails from lack of nutrition, watch him wear layers after layers because he was always so cold, & watch him eventually never leave his room because he was too weak from not eating.

It was terrifying for them all, & it seemed impossible because they simply could not get the help needed anywhere.

Just weeks after being turned away from the team at the hospital, her brother collapsed at school. His heart wasn’t beating enough, & his pulse was so weak that if he walked too fast or even stood up, he could die on the spot. He was admitted to the impatient psych unit, & slowly started to recover, though it took years & lifetimes of trauma along the way, not just for him but Billie & her family also.

Nothing can erase an experience like that, fear like that, from your mind.

Billie Dean was wary of approaching Audrey because she hated confrontation & was terrified of driving her love away, however the risk of losing her girlfriend in the way that she almost did her brother outweighed this doubt for the medium. All the measures were in place; Billie had called a private dietician that she knew to assess Audrey this week, had made demands to take time off work for both of them to support her girl, & even collected one of the actress’s ‘safe foods’ on the way home to try to coax her girlfriend with.

Billie was scared out of her mind for what was to come, but she knew that she had no choice to do this another time. The talk had to be tonight.

The couple exchanged accounts of their days sat in the bedroom; Audrey’s speech quiet, snipped & muffled, whilst Billie Dean rambled with quick sentences that were almost impossible to follow, a nervous habit she had accumulated since she was a child – she could ‘talk for England’ as her British girlfriend would usually joke. Of course, Audrey hadn’t laughed for weeks by now, let alone made bubbly conversation.

“Honey?” Billie interjected quietly into the silence that had settled amongst them; “Do you want to go pick a movie? We can sit together & have a film night this evening like we used to!”

Of course, this was just another step on the taller blonde’s ladder of a plan. She needed Audrey downstairs to try to feed her girlfriend & to have a proper conversation, but Billie knew that the actress would not go down to the dinner table without a fight. The lower level of the house was the source of Audrey’s fears; the kitchen, the dining room, all of the food & where it was eaten. If she stayed upstairs, she was safe & hidden from her anxieties, but it would only get worse if she was not forced out of her safety zone, which was rapidly shrinking in size as time passed by.

A shadow of a smile graced across Audrey’s limp features at the memories of their early relationship, & the nostalgia of the simple times in which love overruled every problem & reduced it to insignificance. The only thing that mattered in those days was the woman by her side, the actress remembered feeling invincible, as if she could reach the stars with Billie Dean on her arm.

She would do anything to get into a time machine & travel back a few years, which is probably how she found herself sitting on the sofa & staring blankly at the Netflix homepage on the TV screen. A small part of her brain had willed her to at least try a little for her girlfriend. Audrey didn’t hear Billie bustling round the kitchen next door, setting the table to prepare for the war that was about to commence. All the shorter blonde wanted to do was lay down here & sleep for a thousand years, sleep until she wouldn’t wake up & all of her problems would disappear. She genuinely thought that would be possible by now, lack of food reducing her energy levels so much that the short trip down the stairs into this room was equivalent to sprinting a mile at this point.

“Audrey, baby? Can you help me with something?” a sweet voice sang from the kitchen, an innocent bird song ringing deep from the depths of hell.

The actress shuffled into the room with tired eyes, which soon widened with horror at the sight before her. It was a normal sight, two plates opposite each other with one full, & one relatively small portion of salad & utensils. But to Audrey it was her greatest fear being thrown in her face; overwhelming, shocking, & most of all, absolutely petrifying. Once she had managed to tear her terror-filled gaze off the monster on the table, she encountered a new problem.

Billie Dean Howard.

To Audrey this was the ultimate betrayal. What was Billie trying to do? Ruin all of her hard work? Did she want Audrey to look ugly & grotesque so that she could look even more perfect by standing next to an ogre? A freak? How would she ever, ever look anywhere near acceptable with such a hateful, selfish person by her side?

“Babygirl? Are you going to try to eat?” Billie whispered, trying to sound confident when in fact Audrey’s cold stare had reduced her to a tremble.

She was now sat down, fiddling with the knife & fork by her hands & wondering just what would happen if she stabbed herself with this blunt instrument right now. Or flipped the table. Or the Apocalypse began.

Anything to escape dinner with the woman she was starting to incredulously despise. Right now, she would rather take her chances in the haunted Roanoke house than be sitting with her girlfriend & a plate of food.

“No.”

Billie Dean looked up with wide pupils & a quivering lip. Of course, this was going to be difficult.

“Why not, sweetheart?”

“No, never ever.” Audrey replied in a blunt, monosyllabic tone. She couldn’t be bothered to deal with this nonsense right now, but on a deeper level, she didn’t even have the vitality to voice her deeper emotions, the life being sucked from her body as the disease overtook.

The medium put down her own fork & meandered carefully over to kneel by her girlfriend’s chair. They would have to do this together; bite by bite, fight by fight, until the first battle was over.

“Come on honey,” Billie sniffed as Audrey flinched away from her touch; “Just three forkfuls? Ok, it’s nothing at all, honestly sweetheart.”

She’s going to ruin it all, all of the hard work. You’ll be nothing & you’ll never get anywhere.

“NO!” Audrey yelled in frustration; “No I won’t, you can’t make me,” Kicking her legs & wringing her hands in some sort of tantrum or fit. She felt like she would burst with anger or sadness at the idea that her girlfriend had stabbed her in the back & her intentions were revealed.

“Two mouthfuls, baby? You can do this, I’m here my love, it’s all going to be ok,” The medium reassured as she guided a small amount of salad towards the shorter blonde’s mouth, like a mother encouraging her child to eat by playing airplanes.

See, you’ll never be perfect. Ever. You’re useless, hopeless. You need to get away if you have any hope of achieving anything.

“No no no no! I hate you, I hate you, I hate you,” Audrey cried, malevolence spitting out of her vocal chords.

Billie was not perfect; her love was whole yet fragile, & her heart shattered hearing this. She knew that it was the illness talking, that her Audrey would never speak with such carelessness & spite, but it was all too much for a logical viewpoint right now. Tears streamed down her face, trying to wash to pain away, even though all she wanted to do was to take her girlfriend’s agony into herself & to remove every negative image that had led her to this moment.

Audrey paid no attention to the medium’s despair, instead shoving the fork away, trying to get it as far from her view as possible. She almost knocked Billie Dean over from her crouching position through this action, & took the opportunity to step aside, to run as far away from the kitchen & the taller blonde as she could muster.

As the actress stood, familiar blurred vision misted her eyes & she swayed gently as if there was a slight breeze in the room. The lack of nutrition made this a frequent occurrence, but what was not typical was the narrowing of the tunnel that had formed, & the grey static in her range of view getting closer & closer together until all she could see was dots.

“Honey, baby? Oh god,”

And soft, comforting arms was all she could sense until everything changed to black.

The curtain had fallen.

- - - - -

The intermission was over, & low-toned notes rose from the orchestra pit. The half was to begin, hopefully this part would be better than the first.

The scene began with a soft surface, cushions underneath the actress’s spine when she had expected hard kitchen tile. Next were delicate hands rubbing up & down in a soothing motion along her arms, with hushed whispers forming a rising vibrato by her ears.

Audrey could feel, but she wasn’t sure where she was & how she had gotten here. She wanted to open her eyes for answers, but there was something comforting about the darkness behind her eyelids & how she was blocking out the world & all the problems it had brought.

Sobs changed her perception, however. They were a little recognisable, yet very odd to the blonde’s hearing, as if she had heard it in a past lifetime. Out of pure curiosity, Audrey opened her heavy lids & peered through to explore her surroundings.

An angel was crying next to her body. Not just any angel, her angel. Billie Dean Howard had her head in Audrey’s chest, burrowed in as if she would never let go, & was openly wailing into the valley of the clothed breasts. Her body was shaking violently with the sobs & her breath hitching every few seconds as if the medium was so overwhelmed that she couldn’t even make the space in her consciousness to remember to breathe.

Out of instinct, Audrey reached out to stroke Billie’s hair, an action that she knew always soothed her girlfriend when she was stressed or anxious. She was confused & concerned, having never seen the medium cry in such a way before, but then her memories came back & the guilt flooded in.

Billie Dean jumped at the change in the shorter blonde’s breathing & the careful touch to her scalp. The medium quickly sat up & frantically wiped her tears with the sleeve of her blouse to clear her sight. There were her babydoll’s beautiful, chocolate eyes glancing slightly puzzled back at her. The relief of seeing Audrey conscious & less tense than their last interactions sent Billie flying back into her love’s arms as she tried her best to hold in further sobs.

“I’m sorry Bill, I- I really don’t know how it got this far,” Audrey started, struggling to find the words to voice her emotions & the secrets she had hidden for all this time.

Billie shushed her girlfriend lightly, shaking her head as if to silence the actress’s stuttering words & unspoken aura of remorse.

“Honey, you’re sick. It’s an illness, a disorder; you’re not in control of your thoughts or your actions when it has a hold on you. You are enough, & you are so so worthy of feeling much better than this. You’re perfect sweetheart, I would never lie to you.”

Despite the medium’s certainty, Audrey looked unsure & her hands shook slightly at the acknowledgement of her lifestyle. She didn’t feel worthy of Billie Dean’s patience or calmness in the face of such adversity & unnecessary pain on her part. The shorter blonde’s face of hesitancy prompted her girlfriend to reach into her pocket & pull out her phone.

“You see this here?”, Audrey squinted at the screen to realise it was her, on their second date in a field of flowers & trees, arguably the happiest she had ever been.

“That’s my Audrey. My beautiful, sweet, kind, sometimes irritating, but always hilarious, Audrey Tindall. She’s the love of my life, & I’ve never been so taken aback by someone’s beauty quite like I do hers, even when she wakes up with her sticking up in all directions & the worst morning breath in the world,”

Audrey chuckled sadly with tears gently tracing her cheeks.

“It’s selfish, but I miss her more than anything. She’s my girl, & I wouldn’t change a thing about my babydoll. Look at how the sunlight shines off of you in this photo. It’s my favourite, because it just represents you sweetheart. Do you know why?”

The shorter blonde looked up into Billie’s sincere face with a brow furrowed in confusion.

“Because you’re my sunshine. You light up my life, & without you I couldn’t survive. You’re the sun to my moon Audrey, you’re just as bright & beautiful, & you always will be. You’re forever mine babygirl, I love you to the stars & back. If only you could see just how beautiful you are,”

Audrey bit her lip as a little light returned to her eyes. Maybe there was a future ahead after all; it went far wider than herself & her perception of her body, that was only a tiny aspect that carried her from destination to destination. Life is a photo album made of memories, not physique checks or restricted meals. You need a healthy body in order to live a contented life, & Audrey was starting to learn this now.

“My love,” Billie started, sitting beside the actress & pulling her into a loving hold; “Do you want to get better? I have everything in place, & I will be here the whole journey, sweetheart. What do you think?”

The shorter blonde looked up into the brown eyes of her future, & took a deep breath to summon all of her strength for the progress ahead.

“Yes.”

And that was enough.

- - - - -

One year later:

Life was now life for Audrey, not a series of days in which she would fixate on each meal & the consequence it would bring. There were bad days of course, but the good ones far outweighed negativity as time went on, & the actress found herself growing to love food & once again.

Billie Dean was elated, not just to have her love back to normal, but to have a certain future in which they could both travel forward with joy & lack of apprehension, just taking each day as it comes.

So many memories had been made that would have been lost on the road if it wasn’t for Audrey’s ongoing recovery. Spontaneous brunches, intimate dinners, & even a luminous holiday to Italy - seeing Billie with tomato smeared up to her forehead from an enthusiastic mouthful of pasta was enough to convince the shorter blonde that these moments were just too beautiful to miss.

She had learned that she was not perfect, nobody was, but with Billie by her side & a newfound smile on her face (plus a full stomach) nothing seemed to matter as much anymore.

Recovery was, without a doubt, a new life for Audrey Tindall.

Happy one year of recovery to me!

I won’t lie, it is difficult, but it is also the best decision I ever made. I feel so much more confident in myself, so much happier, & the day goes by so much easier when I enjoy food rather than it being a constant stress.

So if you’re struggling right now, choose recovery & ask for help. I promise you it is worth it entirely.

Do it for your past self, your future self, but most importantly yourself right now. Life is just too short to be worrying about something that could enrich your experiences even more. Take care, I love you <3

Taglist: @ka-s @ninaahs @stayevildarling @l0verssr0ck @babypocahontas @winters-witch-bitch @basicasshole @bottom4delia @forevercountess @violentwavesofem0tion @sporadicsupercorpquotesmonger @liberosisaspire @mellowalieneggsknight @supremeinlilac @thecasualgeek1 @lucykilljoy @mrsdeanhoward @cordeliaswhore @loverofallthingssarah

[nyrandrea]

Setting The Stage

My hyperfixation is set back on fnaf again in anticipation for Security Breach, so I’ve decided to write my own interpretation on how the game might begin! 

Summary: Gregory had always dreamed of going to Freddy Faxbear’s Mega Pizza Plex and meeting his heroes. But he somehow ends up getting more than he bargained for, and dreams start to turn into nightmares.

Originally planned as a oneshot but had to split it into two parts.Link to next chapter is down below! Also available to read on AO3 here!

Enjoy!

Walking into Freddy Fazbear’s Mega Pizza Plex for the first time was something that every kid in the world should experience, at least according to Gregory’s logic. 

And it was that logic – and a lot of puppy dog looks – that just about managed to work on his mom. Because here he was, finally standing in front of the colorful neon sign with his favorite animal mascots welcoming him in.  

It had taken a lot of begging and guilt-tripping but he wasn’t ashamed one bit, though his mother might have disagreed, especially when it came to the snivelling part. But hey, it wasn’t his fault she had worked late on his birthday, so she owed him. Big time. 

He vaguely recalled her grumbling about having to dip into her savings for this trip. 

So that meant that he only had today, and he had to make every second count. 

“So...” a voice spoke up from behind him. “Am I finally forgiven?” 

Gregory looked up to see his mom giving him ‘the look’, and to that he nodded profusely.  

“Good. After today you can finally leave me in peace,” she said, giving his hair a playful ruffle as they walked through the large sliding doors and into the mall. 

He decided to push it just a little bit further. 

“Can I get a Freddy plushie?” 

The little boy swore he could hear a vein pop. 

“I already bought tickets for the meet and greet. Do you know how much those cost me?” 

He shrugged. 

“A lot, and it’s coming out of your college fund.” 

“What if I don’t wanna go to college?” 

“Maybe you won’t get to after today,” she replied, rubbing at her temples. “Fine. I’ll give you ten dollars and you can buy yourself something at the store when we’re done, alright?” 

That was enough to cover a pencil, maybe an eraser as well if he haggled. But he didn’t argue.  

Both Gregory and his mom were suddenly blinded when they entered into the main part of the building as bright neon lights bounced off of the high glass ceiling and right into their retinas. Only once they were able to adjust their eyes could they really absorb the true grandeur of the place. 

Everywhere you looked there were people: from tired-eyed parents trying to find the next thing to distract their kids to enthusiastic parents who wanted to get involved in everything their kids were doing while filming it on their phone for their blogs. Then there were the snot-nosed teens who were bunking off school and several professional shopping guides with forced smiles wider than Moondrop and Sunrise’s combined. Everyone seemed to move in unison as the hall was filled with the sound of shoes squeaking against the polished checkered floors. 

Topping it all off was a massive gleaming golden statue of Glamrock Freddy proudly posed right in the center, singing silently into the microphone as soft music and wacky adverts played in the background. 

Suddenly Gregory felt very small. 

“It sure is...big, isn’t it?” His mother said, not sounding so confident herself. 

He merely nodded in agreement. 

Her son-o-meter seemed to be finely tuned as ever as she gently grasped Gregory’s shoulder and gave him a light but reassuring shake. 

“C’mon now,” she tenderly prodded. “We’ve got all day to enjoy the place so let’s make the most of it, huh? It’s not every day we get to go to Freddy Fazbear’s Mega Pizza Plex.” 

This was true. Coming here had once been only but a dream. Now he was here, staring up at a brilliantly shining statue of Glamrock Freddy. And pretty soon he was going to be meeting the bear himself. 

His hand absently went to towards his back-pocket before he made a fist as determination washed over him. Looking up at his mom, he nodded. 

“And if I’m remembering right, I think I know the first thing on your to-do list.”  

The boy had already grabbed her hand as he made a beeline for their first activity. 

“To Fazer Blast!” 

 xxx

Trying to imitate the pose of the Roxanne cut-out that was behind the reception desk, Gregory pointed his laser blaster at his mom as she attempted to fit on his vest. 

“Could you stop fidgeting?” 

“But I’m practicing-” 

“Stop. Fidgeting.” 

He pouted before she struck him with that look again, which he pretended not to notice as he gazed up towards the lady at the reception desk. She looked about in her twenties and was using one hand to push back her long sleek black locks away from her face every five seconds while her other hand typed lazily on a screen. 

“So...do I just join a team or...?” 

It took her a moment to even register that he was talking to her before she flicked her hair back again just to glare down at him. 

“Sure, like, do what you want. It’s your game, you make the rules.” 

She seemed to pause for a moment. 

“You do, like, know the rules, right?” 

Gregory wasn’t sure how to respond to that.  

“Uh...sure?” 

“Fantastic,” she drawled as she focused her attention back to her tablet. “Your session ends in fifteen minutes.” 

His mother rolled her eyes and muttered something about, “kids these days”, but soon smiled and took Gregory’s shoulder as she walked him in. 

“Just remember to have fun, alright? Screw the rules.” 

“Really?” Gregory asked, his toothy grin twisting into something sinister as he got into the Roxanne pose again.  

“Just...don’t run and remember to stay within the walls,” she added on quickly. “Can’t have my little space man getting lost now, can I?” 

Gregory made a sound of disgust as he was pulled in for a kiss before she finally let him loose into the brightly colored arena. He couldn’t help but take a moment to stare up in awe as spotlights of purple, green and red shone upon the various props and fixtures that decorated the place. 

 In the center was a giant space rocket that was surrounded by planets with neon rings glowing around them. The cut-outs from reception were scattered about too, though now they were humongous. Gregory almost couldn’t help but salute the towering Freddy as he walked past. 

He also noticed a room near the back walls. It was raised up to overlook the whole arena and was surrounded by green-lit pillars. It fit in with the theme of the room but also...jarringly stood out. Maybe it was a place for parents to watch their kids play, or perhaps the employees? 

“Hey Grogery!”  

That voice. That name struck fear into his chest as he swirled around to face a group of boys that had aimed their blasters right at him. 

“Never thought we’d see you here,” the biggest one said with a smirk. “You sneak in through the gutters or something?” 

“Hey... Bob,” Gregory casually greeted. Though it was hard to act so suave when he was trembling. 

“It’s Rob.” 

“Rob! Yeah...cool to see you too.” 

Learning the names of his bullies from class had never been at the top of Gregory’s to-do list, but then again it hadn’t been at the top of theirs either, clearly. But God, why did they have to be here of all places? Of all days, even? 

“Nah, his mom probably got him in here with all that hooker money she earns!” The skinny one snorted, making them all burst out into laughter. 

“She works at the hospital,” Gregory weakly argued. 

“Not what my dad said!” Rob hollered, still rubbing tears from his eyes. 

“So, what, is your dad cheating on your mom?” He sniped back with a sneer of his own. 

His grin soon disappeared though when they all suddenly stopped laughing and a beat of silence followed, save for the distant laser blasts sounding off around them. 

“The hell did you just say to me?” Rob asked, his voice dangerously quiet. If his brows knitted together any tighter then those pimples on the bridge of his nose might pop at any given moment. Gregory grimaced at the very thought. 

“N-nothing! Um...I mean- it's technically not cheating if your parents are divorced, right?” 

Rob positioned the blaster in his hand not so much as to aim it, but rather throw it. 

“Like I said, my mom wouldn’t even do that!” 

The pimples popped. 

With that, Gregory legged it before the gun could smack him in the face. He dashed between the walls as the angry voices behind him grew distant, he almost felt bad as he climbed through the holes and bumped past people, but hey it was like his mom said, screw the rules, right? 

However, it looked like the rules were starting to screw him when he smacked into a dead end. The black wall was too high for him to jump over and the only way out would be to re-trace his steps, which meant... 

“C’mon Grogery!” Rob’s voice taunted through the luminous hall. “Let’s see how many knocks to the head you can take before you bleed.”  

The boy swallowed a hard lump down his throat as he backed himself up against the wall and looked up at the Roxanne cut-out that towered above him, aiming her blaster with such confidence and attitude. With a deep breath and a firm nod, he did the same with the hope that getting them disqualified might save him. 

If not, at least his mom was a first-aider. 

“Hey...” A soft, almost girlie voice laced with a mechanical tone called out. “In here.”  

Gregory’s head snapped to the right as a hand – or was it a paw? – beckoned him into a dark corner. 

“Hurry up...!” The voice urged, and before Gregory could question anything, he saw four shadows creep around as the sound of footsteps thundered towards him, forcing him to make a snap decision and dive into the darkness, getting caught by a pair of skinny, furred arms. 

“Shit, where did he go?” Rob shouted as the group gathered where Gregory had been standing just seconds before.  

“Looks like he dropped his blaster,” one of them said as he picked it up. “Maybe he climbed the wall?” 

There was a sudden yelp as Rob smacked him upside the head. 

“Don’t be so fucking stupid, he’s tiny. No way in hell he’d be able to scale that.” 

Gregory stiffened as Rob suddenly turned in his direction, but he felt the stranger put a hand on his head, and strangely enough, it calmed him down. 

“...C’mon, he’s gotta be around here somewhere,” Rob finally said, pulling the group away. “He can’t hide forever.” 

After a few moments of waiting, Gregory let out a breath he didn’t even know he’d been holding. 

“Bullies are just the worst, huh?” 

Almost jumping out of his skin at the sudden chipper voice cutting through the tense atmosphere like a knife, he glanced up with wide eyes as the figure gave him a little pat on the head.  

This was obviously a girl but with the shadows enveloping her it was hard to tell exactly...what she was.  

He could make out a pair of tall ears so...a rabbit? Gregory couldn’t remember any animatronics other than Freddy, Chica, Monty and Roxanne, as well as Moondrop and Sunrise. Was this a new character? 

But what kind of bunny would have such piercing red eyes? 

“My name’s Vanny,” she greeted. “What’s yours?” 

Feeling slightly relieved that she had finally let him go, he cautiously stepped out and looked around to make sure he was in the clear before turning to face her.  

“...Gregory,” the boy timidly answered, still feeling a bit unnerved.  

“What a swell name! It’s nice to meet’cha,” she said with a small bow, which unveiled a few more features like a bright blue bow tied around her neck, and an unnaturally wide toothy grin plastered on her patched face.  

What’s more, she didn’t exactly move like a robot, despite sounding like one. 

“Are you new?” Gregory asked, causing Vanny to tilt her head. 

“Huh?” 

“I’ve never seen you in the show before and...” he paused, knowing his words had already gotten him in trouble today. 

“And what?” she prodded. 

“Well...you don’t really look like an animatronic.” 

“That’s because I’m not!”  

Gregory flinched at her overly cheerful tone and stepped back as she kneeled down to his level. 

“Can I let ya in on a little secret?” Vanny asked, cupping her hand to her mouth in a poorly disguised whisper. 

“Sure...?” 

“I wanna be in the show. Like, I really really wanna be in the show. That’s why I made this,” the rabbit gestured to herself in an overly dramatic way; caressing her ears and cupping her face. “But I gotta prove myself first.” 

“Prove yourself?” 

“Yup!” 

Gregory raised an eyebrow when she didn’t elaborate further, but decided to put it to rest as he really wanted to get out before Rob and his goons came back. 

“I know a shortcut outta here,” Vanny offered with a tilt of the head, as if reading his mind. “Just take a couple of rights and a left and you’ll be as right as rain! Want me to show you?”  

“T-that’s okay, I should be good,” Gregory replied with a smile, though it slowly turned into a frown when she didn’t answer back, choosing instead to just...stare at him, her head still tilted, almost as if she were deep in thought. 

“But...thanks anyway...?” he weakly offered. 

This seemed to snap her out of her trance as she nodded vigorously. 

“No problem! And don’t worry, if those bullies come back, I’ll give ‘em a dose of Moondrop’s sleepy candy. That oughta slow ‘em down!”  

He had heard of that stuff, but couldn’t for the life of him understand why kids would want candy that would put them to sleep. Nevertheless, he nodded and thanked her again before turning, and hurrying away, a soft giggle echoing behind him. 

 xxx

“Where on earth have you been? It’s been thirty minutes!” 

Gregory was still a little shaken up by the time he had reached the exit, so much so that he had forgotten that he had been on a time limit. 

“Sorry, mom...” Gregory muttered sheepishly as she looked him over. 

“You didn’t answer my question.” 

Glancing back towards the arena, he tried to see if he could spot Rob’s gang still wandering about in there. 

“Did you see a group of guys come out by any chance? Older than me. Kinda ugly...” 

“Now you’re answering my question with a question,” his mother said with a sigh. “But no. Why? Did something happen?” 

“No!” he blurted out, making her give him that look again. “We were just...having so much fun but then I uh...I lost them. Just wondering if they left without me or something.” 

Her expression softened a little. He hated when she did that. 

“No, sweetie...but I’m sure they won’t be far, should we go look for them?” 

Gregory grabbed her hand and started pulling her away. “It’s fine! The show’ll be starting soon, right? We can’t miss it!” 

“Okay, okay...!” she chuckled as he dragged her. “But first we need to hand your blaster in.” 

He stopped then, inwardly cursing at himself before smiling sheepishly up at his mom as she narrowed her eyes at him. 

“You lost it, didn’t you.”  

Her tone suggested that it wasn’t a question. 

“Yep.” 

He yelped when she was suddenly the one dragging him away. 

“Well, we best make ourselves scarce then, besides we can’t miss your big show, right?” 

Gregory grinned. “Screw the rules?” 

She smiled back. “Screw the rules.” 

 xxx

They had made it to the main stage before the show began, but there were already big crowds congregating near the front to get the best view, and Gregory was having none of it. 

His mom kept apologizing to the angry faces and pointed looks as he towed her through the mass of people to get to the front, ignoring her when she grumbled about having to teach him some social skills. 

Gregory drowned everything else in the auditorium out as his wide brown eyes focused on the stage, even trying to balance up on the tips of his toes to get any kind of glimpse of brown, green, pink or purple. He had waited so long for this moment, and nothing more mattered than the next hour. 

Gregory wasn’t ashamed to admit that he squealed a little when the lights died down, it was just as well that every other kid in the auditorium screamed too, resulting in the kind of high-pitched noise that would make a banshee cringe. 

“Hello ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls!” A mechanical voice greeted over the speakers. “Welcome to Freddy Fazbear’s Mega Pizza Plex! Are you all having a fantabulous time?”  

The crowds erupted once more. 

“Rockin’!” Gregory gasped as a rough female voice took over. "Y’all ready to get your glam on?!”  

“Oh Roxanne...” a more feminine tone scolded. “Now you’ve given us away. Again.”  

Gregory’s smile grew wider, he knew this whole skit, next up would be- 

"I think we’ve kept ‘em waiting long enough, gals,” a graveled voice boomed out from the speakers. "Whaddya say, Freddy? Should we give the kids what they want?”  

The little boy almost couldn’t contain himself at this point. 

“I say let’s rock out!”  

The curtains suddenly swung open to reveal the animatronics in all their shiny, glittering glory.  

They were all 80’s themed, of course, to fit in with the aesthetic of the mall. Glamrock Chica had the typical pink leotard with green leopard print leg warmers; very popular with the girls. Roxanne Wolf was more unconventional with a striking red outfit, piercings and the mascot for the mall’s race course; she appealed to quite a wide range of people. Montgomery Gator was more for the chads as he had a rough and tough attitude with a love of golf, but Gregory did admire his red mohawk and star-shaped shades. 

Then there was Glamrock Freddy. The mascot of the Pizza Plex. He didn’t really have a gimmick as such but was incredibly popular just for how great he was with the children. The other animatronics were good with kids but Freddy was the one who seemed to pay the most attention to them, whether it be sitting down and listening to a kid’s story, accepting gifts from them to even giving them gifts of his own free will – mostly a plushie of himself. 

Management were irked by this odd behavior at first but when they saw how much cash he was raking in from meet and greets alone, they decided to leave it. Why fix it if it ain’t broke, right? 

As they burst into their first song, with Freddy singing into his mic stand and the other three playing keytars, Gregory didn’t even notice when his mother shook his shoulder and told him that she would have to take a phone call but would be back as soon as she could. There were some instructions on where to meet if she didn’t make it back by the time the show was finished but the words fell on deaf ears as he bounced and sang along to the lyrics he had spent so painstakingly long to learn. 

By the fourth or fifth song, the crowds had started to dissipate as parents took their children away to browse some more shops or to go to the food court for lunch, but Gregory stayed until the very end, cheering and whooping when the animatronics did their final encore and bowed as the curtains were drawn to a close. 

Fearing his chest might explode from excitement, the boy took a few moments to breathe as he tried to calm down from the buzz of electricity that was jolting through his body. The past hour had gone and went so fast that he could hardly process any of it, all he knew was that it had been the happiest moment of his life.  

With a huge grin, he watched as the robots were escorted off stage by staff and taken to their individual show rooms for their meet and greet sessions. Lines were already starting to grow long. 

It was only then that Gregory realized that his mother was gone. He looked around with a frown, she had said something about a phone call but...that had been half an hour ago now. 

‘She must be waiting at the show room for me,’ Gregory concluded, beaming at the thought of finally meeting his hero in the flesh. Or...plastic. 

Shaking his head, he made a beeline past Chica’s room, where mostly little kids were sitting on the floor watching the animatronic as she played them a song while others had started a food fight with the leftover pizza and soda cans that had been lying around the room, making the parents and staff grimace as they tried to break it up. 

Monty’s room was a little more organized and catered more towards older children as the gator showed them how to get a hole in one with a little golf stand while others played on the arcade machine. This reminded Gregory that the golf course was next on his list. 

Roxanne’s room was very high energy as the wolf raced around with the other kids with driving wheels in their hands while making engine noises. Though when one tripped up, she immediately halted and gently picked the child up, reassuring him that “Even the most rockin’ superstars get hurt sometimes!” and carried him into the back area to where the medical staff resided with a worried mother in tow. 

Stopping to catch his breath, Gregory finally made it to Freddy’s room, gaping slightly when he saw the queue nearly reaching the end of the walkway. He couldn’t even see inside due to the mass of people gathered at the curtains, forcing him to back up a bit and climb up on a bench just to be able to get a look in. 

The room was painted red and blue to fit in with Freddy’s color scheme and decorated with bright lightning bolts and portraits of the bear himself. It was also the least cluttered as there were only a few bowling bowls, party hats and – of course – plenty of plushies to give away. But what caught Gregory’s eyes were the assortment of colorful drawings that had been halfhazardly pinned to the wall next to the make-up mirror. 

It was true then; he really did collect kids' drawings! 

Reaching into his own back-pocket, Gregory pulled out a crumpled piece of paper and opened it up, smiling a little when he looked upon his own masterpiece. All the animatronics were singing on a stage on top of the whole world, with Freddy towering over them wearing a crown and rainbow cape because why not?  

It had taken him hours and an absurd number of crayons that he had ‘taken’ from his classroom, so a selfish part of him hoped that Freddy would pin it above the rest. 

A flurry of movement in the crowd suddenly caught Gregory’s attention as the stewards moved them aside to let the animatronic move in. He felt himself get giddy when the bear greeted everyone and gave them a sign of the horns with his clawed hand, to which all the kids mimicked, including Gregory from all the way in the back. 

As the queue started to move along, Gregory couldn’t help but start to feel impatient. Where was his mom? He thought she knew how important this was to him. 

Forgiveness was suddenly starting to come in very short supply. 

With a cross of the arms and a small pout, he watched as Glamrock Freddy took photographs, played with kids and even recognized a regular and accepted a drawing from her, praising her for becoming more talented every day. 

Gregory’s chest tightened up a little at that. 

Frowning down at his own scribbles, he didn’t even notice the tall figure hiding behind the golden statue of Roxanne that was trying to get his attention. 

“Hey...! Hey Gregory!” A familiar voice hissed. 

Startled, he turned to see that tall rabbit lady from earlier waving and beckoning him over. Blinking, he took a moment to look around to see if anybody else had seen her, half-wondering if she was some kind of hallucination at this point. When she beckoned again, he tentatively walked over. 

Once again, she was hidden in the shadows, but the overhead lights made it a little easier to see more details of the suit, like the stitches that barely held the mismatched creams and beiges together along with a few patches of crosshatched red. It was like the whole thing had just been thrown together. 

“Uh...hey...”  

It took him a moment. 

“Vanny?” 

She gasped and gleefully put her hands up to her grinning mouth. 

“You remembered!”  

He forced a grin, trying to ignore the bristling hairs on the back of his neck. 

“Sure.” 

She paused and knelt down. 

“What’s wrong? You look a bit down.” 

This caught him by surprise. 

“Huh? No, I’m fine. Just...waiting.” 

Glancing back, he could see the crowds starting to dwindle as time went on, but still no sign of his mother. 

“Ooh! What’s that?” 

He looked down to where she was pointing and held up the piece of paper that he had been clutching a little too hard. 

“It’s...um...just a drawing I made...for...Freddy,” he meekly replied, his cheeks heating up. 

“Oh wow! Can I see?” 

The very question he was afraid of. But she was already holding out her hand, so he couldn’t just say no. 

She seemed to study it very closely when Gregory handed it over. He started to wonder if she was having to squint through the costume’s red eyes just to be able to see it. 

“This is so good, Gregory!” She gushed, holding it up as if to show it off to everybody else in the mall. “You’re super talented! Are you gonna be an artist when you grow up?” 

He looked down in embarrassment but couldn’t help but smile at the compliment. Despite how weird this lady was, she actually seemed pretty nice.  

“Um...I dunno. I like drawing so...maybe.” 

“You should definitely show it to Freddy, I bet he’d love it!” 

Gregory perked up at that, but frowned again as he looked back over to the show room. 

“I want to but I can’t yet.” 

“Why not?” Vanny asked. “Ya nervous?” 

That was true but he wasn’t about to admit it.  

“My mom has the ticket for the meet and greet but...she had to take some kinda phone call and hasn’t come back yet.” 

“Hasn’t...come back,” she repeated. 

As Gregory watched kids and parents come and go, he hadn’t noticed that Vanny was staring right at him until the silence between them grew uncomfortably long. But as he turned back to look at her, she stood up and offered her hand. 

“I know a way you can give it to him.” 

A little perturbed by her sudden shift in tone; he looked at her hand but didn’t take it. 

“Uh...how?” 

“The VIP room, silly!” She said, her chirpy voice returning once more. “You know that one up at Fazer Tag? I saw you looking at it earlier.” 

The one that was high up, he remembered. But... had she been watching him that whole time? 

“That’s where Freddy and the others go for the secret meet and greets, where they give you their undivided attention.” 

Gregory raised an eyebrow. 

“I... didn’t even know that was a thing.” 

“That’s cuz it’s secret!” 

Okay, well that made sense. 

“Usually only the rich kids get to go there but I think you’re much more deserving, Gregory,” she said, holding out her hand once again. “You only get today, right?” 

The boy looked over once more. Freddy was waving goodbye to the last of the children as the stewards drew the curtains. He had missed his chance. 

He looked back up at Vanny. 

“What about my mom?” 

The rabbit tilted her head. “I’ll notify the staff so they can let her know, then she’ll come pick you up when you’re ready, okay?” 

There was a moment of hesitation but he knew she was right. He only had today and nothing was going to stop him from getting what he wanted. 

Screw the rules.  

With a nod, Gregory took her hand and let her lead him away to the Fazer Tag arena, not noticing that his drawing had slipped from her grip and she had let it fall into a crumpled ball as they walked away. 

xxx

So let me know what y’all think! Would you like to see a part 2? :D

Edit: Part 2 is now available here!

[igotswag77]

Courtly Love In Thrawnbine - My Review

This Tumblr inspired me to try again on the concept of COURTLY LOVE -- thanks for the nice art.

This is long... No tl;dr. I have been writing my THRAWNBINE fanfiction since 2014-2015. The initial transcripts were lost because my computer and the external hard drive crashed. Therefore, the research, development, key ideas, metas, etc. are gone. I have to start from scratch, hope some of them are in the cloud, and rely on my memory, which is another discussion. This piece here is not about the validity of the THRAWNBINE ship. It is a discussion of story elements I wanted to include as I write this fanfiction. It is not about me forcing any fan to accept my proposal. As a Star Wars fan, I like creativity and this piece is an example of what I think about when I develop my creative writing for fanfiction. It is what I want to do with my life right now because I can do it now.

However, a while back in one of the SWAG77 blogs here, my group discusses the idea of COURTLY LOVE: As I understand it as a beginner creative writer, it is how the COURT of the kings, queens, princes, princess, (on down) and knights in the Middle Ages and Medieval times expressed their love to each other. (x)

From my interpretation on my reading, not just Wikipedia but others, when noble single men, who were knights, often fought "religious wars" returned home to the court and would appeal to royalty to marry a certain young woman. They planned to "woo" these women with sayings, phrases, poems, etc. as an expression of their commitment and love. The issue is, most young women at a certain age (late teens, early 20s in the 13th -15th centuries) were considered "old maids" (spinsters) and they were made to marry whoever their families could get who were often older men 10+ their senior. Once married couples could not divorce, because of Church, and if caught cheating on their husband, women could be thrown away or killed. Many marriages turned loveless. When the knights returned home, they discovered the love of their lives was married, and therefore, they could not marry her because it was against the Church. Of course, back then, there were not a lot of sexual infidelities, because women could be killed for that, and any resulting child was forced into servitude, enslaved, or killed.

What couples did that time to express their love, devoid of sex to relieve that tension, the nobles created "courtly love" where the knight would serve his lady in any command and he would in turn be chivalrous along with his poems and sayings of love.

"The Lady and the Unicorn" (x), (x) tapestry art from finished in 1500 in France, is an allegory for "courtly love" by its subjects in the art, and symbols. The art comprises six tapestries that depict individual senses in each of them:

In the sixth tapestry, the words display, "À mon seul dési," while obscure in meaning it says roughly:

"To my only sole desire" "According to my desire alone" "By my will alone" "Love desires only beauty of soul" "To calm passion"

In my literature review to build the THRAWNBINE ship, I weaved the idea of "courtly love" as a plot element, in case my story hypotheses were inaccurate. That no matter what, Grand Admiral Thrawn knew he would have to serve under Countess Sabine Wren due to her royal status. By the time Thrawn meets Sabine face to face, she might be royalty with the rank of a countess, or she might be a rank higher than one because she has a direct right to Darksaber, as explained.

Sabine Wren might be a Marquise because she has an exemplary war record. I believe that Sabine Wren is the rightful heir to the Darksaber over Din Djarin because when Djarin defeated Moff Gideon, the Moff is NOT Mandalorian. All Djarin did is confiscate the Darksaber FROM Moff Gideon to give to the rightful heir. Lady Bo-Katan Kryze is not the rightful heir. She was given the Darksaber because Sabine believed in her. But the Darksaber is magical, like the Excalibur sword, and this saber did not choose Bo-Katan, and Bo-Katan never won it by ritual combat. The last Mandalorian who fought against another Mandalorian in ritual combat was Sabine Wren. Why Sabine gave it to Bo-Katan? Maybe the Sabine Wren character is like Nimue, the Lady of the Lake who gives worthy people the Excalibur, and in this case, it would be Sabine. But the Darksaber is ENTRUSTED to one that is worthy to wield it and NEVER lose it to scurrilous powers or persons. If Filoni et al. is using parts of the Arthurian Tales to explain why Sabine gave the Darksaber to Bo-Katan, then it was Bo-Katan's job not to lose the Darksaber. But she did and somehow, Moff Gideon "acquired" it -- he is definitely unworthy of it.

Maul, while he fought in ritual combat to obtain the Darksaber and killed for it, CHEATED during the fight with Pre Vizsla. Ritual Combat is a test of pure fighting skill, will, and strength. In the book, "Darth Maul: The Shadow Conspiracy", Maul has the fighting skill, a will, and the strength to fight Pre Vizsla, but there is the Force, and Maul used it to defeat Vizsla with his Force abilities in precognition. Maul knew all the moves that Vizsla would take before he made them. In my opinion, that is cheating.

While the Darksaber will work in a non-Mandalorian's hands who can wield a saber, the crystal used for plasma that Tarre Vizsla built, is responsive to the worthiness, nobleness, and chivalry of the wielder. Most stories written about enchanted swords say they do not work optimally in the wrong hands. Did it fail Maul, probably not, because Maul was so Dark Sided that he could "bleed" a lightsaber crystal for his uses. But I can imagine that a Mandalorian who uses weapons for his religion, like Tarre Vizsla who has the Force, would build his lightsaber in a way that his crystal, while it can be bled by a Dark Side user, still holds its resilience hoping for a worthy, noble and chivalrous Mandalorian to bring together the people and raise an army.

Another caveat to this story I think is Sabine Wren wielded the Darksaber while she was possessed by the Nightsisters trying to relive as Maul wanted. She almost kills Ezra Bridger, but Bridger was strong enough to pull the ghosts out of Sabine (and Kanan) in the Star Wars Rebels Episode 11, "Vision and Voices". Anyone who understands possession by spirits knows that not ALL of the spirits leave the body. Moreover, one possessed by spirits is not always evil. It is an ancient practice by those who are a part of the Vodoun culture in Western Africa, the Caribbean, Louisiana, and Gullah -- my culture (which I have some practice in it). Part of Sabine's ability to wield the Darksaber and other lightsabers come from the memories of the spirits that entered her body on Dathomir and the touch of the Daughter, which I have repeatedly written about on the Sabine Wren site (x), (x), (x).

The point is since the spirits entered Sabine Wren and not all of them left her in that SWR episode, and she picked up the Darksaber once clear of the complete possession, the Darksaber, especially the power of the crystal and the "spirit of Tarre Vizsla" encased in it, wanted Sabine to become the Mandalorian to rally all other Mandalorians together as one.

In SWR Trials of the Darksaber episodes, after Sabine defeats the Imperial Mandalorian, Gar Saxon, only to be killed by Sabine's mother, Ursa Wren, it shows that the Darksaber is rightfully hers. Why Sabine gave it away? The writers of SWR do not add scenes or dialogue meaninglessly, every piece of scenery with lighting, etc. and dialogue is added into each episode carefully to tell the story that these creatives want you to see. Sabine felt she did not have enough political skill to command Mandalorians, or better yet, military leadership to command Mandalorian -- for "you don’t tell Mandalorians what to do. You suggest it and they either heed your advice or not. (forgotten reference)"

Thrawn had to have learned that Gar Saxon died well before Season 4 Episode, "Heroes of Mandalore" part 2. Also, Thrawn knew a lot about Mandalorian culture through its history, philosophy, and art. What he did not count on is that he would find an artist -- Sabine Wren. I don't know when Thrawn discovered Sabine was an artist that painted the graffiti on the retaining wall. Through his studies, he deduced it was her by the armor she wears, the changes in her armor, and how important the armor is to the Mandalorian culture. This is why he was able to figure out that Sabine built the weapon. Her method of creating art reflects on how she builds weapons whether she knows this fact or not. But then, the Darksaber, which he has not seen, and would not really know its lore because it seems that story that Fenn Rau told Kanan is an "oral tradition" than a written one, and the fact that it was "liberated" from the Jedi seems like an embellished story -- liberated? More like "stolen" maybe? Thrawn had not heard that story. But Sabine knows it. I am not sure if Thrawn knew that Sabine is the rightful owner of the Darksaber. But during the battle sequences, he must have gotten glimpses of it and piecemealed what exactly it is as his job as a strategist to know what he is going up against. However, the Duchess Arc Reactor was not reconstructed to blast through Mandalorian Armor as the new leader of Mandalore, Tiber Saxon desired. It was a test and a chance for Thrawn to see the strength of the fight of Mandalorians (who fight each other all the time), and a chance to meet Sabine Wren in person. He had not met her. He met everyone except, her.

____________

I think that Sabine Wren would be a higher royalty if Filoni et al. were to write that Sabine is a rightful heir with a title. Therefore, she would be a Marquise who protects the frontier. In this fanfic, Thrawn would have to marry Sabine to obtain the title of Marquis to protect the border of the galaxy from the Yuuzhan Vong (lite = Grysks), and his military background fits in this fanfic story. Therefore, he will do whatever it takes to keep Sabine alive, protected under the symbol of the Darksaber and her people with his military (army). He would have to show "Courtly Love" with the addition of sex, to serve as her advisor, confidante, and supreme commander of her militaries. While he could keep his titles, they are not royal, but political, such as "Ranking Distant" or "Syndic" or "Patriarch" -- but that's the Chiss Ascendancy and he has been exiled from it (on paper: meaning officially he is exiled, unofficially he is in a black operation for an intelligence-gathering mission.)

As a separate story, he knows he really can't return under his current position back into the Chiss Ascendancy. But he can annihilate threats in the Unknown Regions using Galatic Empire resources -- of course, the Emperor nor Darth Vader like that idea. When the Deus Ex Machina scene occurred, wherever the space whales took Thrawn and Ezra, the end result should be, IMO, someone in the Chiss Ascendancy rescues them. And it can't be just two people, it has to be a group of them, mostly Imperials. And they take them to a planet, apparently under snow and ice in the Dave Filoni art.

Before I knew anything about SWR in my first fanfic, Thrawn met Sabine at an art auction.

After the Ezra Bridger Deus Ex Machina with space whales, it seems based on Dave Filoni's art of Sabine Wren and Ahsoka Tano, Thrawn officially meets Sabine. For many headcanons, metas, and short drabbles I can't get into atm, they kick off their relationship, and for Sabine, it is unexpected. And while Thrawn might strategically want Sabine to stay (to seal the deal), they have to have legacies. With legacies, Sabine would not want to leave unless she had to.

In this fanfic, any acts like these are about consent. I strive to write consent in my stories.

The conflict in this story becomes how the HAYLE did Sabine agree to all of this? She IS strong-willed like most Mandalorian women are. For Sabine to consent to this life path is:

Sabine DESIRES it; she WANTS to do a pair bond. She figures out that she is getting old and her biological clock is ticking, and perhaps she is tired of constant war and needs a break. But whoops, she did not think that her desire would overtake her and create many legacies. That does happen in real life. Therefore settles that now, this is her life. (This fanfic is the easiest one to write, but slightly dull).

From the LADY AND THE UNICORN held in Paris. Each tapestry depicts the physical senses: (1) Sight, (2) Hearing, (3) Taste, (4) Smell, (5) Touch, (6) Desire. There are allegories and symbols for each tapestry and element. The major symbols are a Lady, a young woman virgin, with a Unicorn, loyal to only her.

There is more information from this youtube: https://youtu.be/5hCWZNm3qpc. My issue about this video, while most of the information seems accurate, the poets are interpreting the tapestries with their modern experiences. In my opinion, it is difficult to understand these tapestries without historical context. To think the woman is in pain is a modern interpretation. Back then, people LIVED in real physical pain because there were no "doctors' like we have now; it is very judgy to make that assertion. Thus, the comments in the video are opinions, and the producers did not announce that opinions were going to be shared. It's kind of like the point of the tapestries was missed without the historical basis.

History for the THRAWNBINE ship is an important part of the fanfic. I am not a great writer, but I work hard to write it. I have reviewed the literature, not think up this ship out of my ass as some fans would assume. I have put a lot of work into it. Also, I am well-read on many Star Wars Legends books and the new Thrawn canon books. Therefore, it is not like I do not know much about Star Wars when I do. I have REAMS of information that I like to share with fans who ask me about it. A few fans do. Moreover, I am not so vain to think that my ideas are the ONLY point of view available. I like trying to write fanfics as close to the Star Wars canon because it is fun, and that is my thing. But there are other ideas out there. It would be wrong to say my way or the highway. Also, I am not young, and those who are asinine toward me, well, I know you're younger than me because I'm old, and I want to do this with my life, I like to do it, and I'm having fun. Some young people do not GET that idea until they fall flat HARD on their face with a lost future. But don't give up your bright-eyed and bushy-tailed aspirations -- you never know where life will take you, and you might be the one. Congrats. Believe me, life can get shitty when you're out there in the real world, like me. And when you can grab your chance at something you find fun, I say do it. Money isn't everything -- but it keeps the kids in touch. I bring up these issues because some young people take huge umbrage against the THRAWNBINE ship due to the perceived huge age difference. Okay, I can see why some young people are freaked out by that. Because someone taught them to be freaked out by the age difference. Moreover, I come from GenX, and most of us, aren't freaked out by that at all. Some of us are in that situation now. So it's no big deal to us. And any generation before ours -- THAT WAS THE WAY... I would not BE if not for huge age differences between my grandparents, great-grands, and great-great grands. Of course, for my greats- yeah, there wasn't much consent. But for my grandparents, at that time and age, there actually was consent. My grandmother was 18 years old when she married my grandfather at 26 years old. By 21, she had 3 babies. One is my father. So, I grew up not caring about age differences in relationships. But for some Millenials (not all) and GenZ (not all) and afterward (not all) -- IDK?

I guess the equivalence for some of the younger generation to understand why I am doing an age-difference story is that the younger generation demands older generation acceptance of relationships that were not allowed to exist in public because one could be killed. It was not until 1967 that people of different races could marry legally in all states. Shid, one couldn't divorce over irreconcilable differences (at will) until the 1970s. Women could not have their own bank accounts until the late 1970s, and LGBTQIA+ RECENTLY were allowed to marry legally in all states, although assholes are stopping them. Then... some of the younger generations are from IVF-assisted pregnancy situations. Some are surrogates. SHID.......... That was not allowed until the 1980s... Both 1970s and 1980s were when I grew up, when I hear younger generations wracking my brain over CONSENSUAL LEGAL age-difference, I think folks don't know the history and therefore are doomed to repeat it. It is NOT a suggestion to return back to that time where women had no choice. My fanfic is about a man falling in love from afar with a woman who actually has no clue, and he knows he is a lot older than her. Somehow, he has to tell her, and he is afraid because of rejection. Look, some Star Wars fans come from parents who have an age difference between 10+ years. If they grew up fine, and their parents are okay with their relationship, who would we judge? I am not talking about a child with a much older adult; that's not legal. I am not talking about nonconsensual (the age of consent in some states is 16-17 years old). I'm not talking about child marriage. My fanfic is about two adults making a choice to be together in an adult relationship. To say someone older can take advantage of someone younger due to experiences, well, that is a false analogy, and the opposite can be true, too. It isn't the age difference that causes bad relationships. It is the power and control, and all generations have individuals who use power and control manipulation to force and abuse another person.

Matthew Perry on that super expensive dating site was matched up with a young woman profile and wanted someone to talk to and have fun with. Not do unsavory things as the woman painted that picture. She lied about it too.

Matthew Gaetz is an asshole, and he deserves everything that the law can throw at him. I actually do not think he knew better. And as far as the young women, including the underage young lady, he manipulated them because he leveraged his power and control. This isn't because of age differences; it's about power and control by manipulation. "Oh, wow, I'm a big shot congressman; worship me." Bith, puh-leeze. You ain't shit. Look, fans teased me when I first discussed "Courtly Love," and I abandoned the idea because I could not justify it. Which is my choice; I made that choice, I chose to do it. But, some in the younger generation and nascent Star Wars fans must understand that you have no right to say who can fall in love with whom just because there a legal and consensual age difference. It is not fair. You cannot ask the older generations to accept your relationships and choose to have them if you can't accept, assuming that they are legal with consent. Because a long time ago, they were not... And when you have a longtime Star Wars fan who is older that is okay with your desires for legal and consensual relationships, killing us is not going to get these hateful toxic fans off your backs. You need longtime fans to be in your corner fighting for your cause because a lot of us have seriously fought for real shit, too. Not just protesting, but having rocks and police beatdowns and water canons, too. Blame by authorities for throwing in prison all the time. Shid...you should have seen us Spelman women rip a new asshole to fight Apartheid in South Africa against Amnesty International. We fought hard for that.

But you need to be cool with our stuff too. Just ask me. I'll tell you.

[slipping-through-my-fingertips]

Could You Be My Little Quarantine?

AU: Mercedes has no excuse to not be zooming with Kurt right now and Blaine has the wrong Zoom ID.

AO3

A/N: This is a product of my late-night story ideas. I could see more from this 'verse developing but I'd need some ideas for what to write. If you have prompts please send them my way. I hope you all enjoy it!

Part 2 Part 3

***

2020

It wasn’t that Kurt isn’t happy for Mercedes. In all the years they’ve been best friends, they've always been supportive of one another. So, it was no surprise to Kurt that she was enjoying her two-week quarantine with her boyfriend. She didn’t flaunt her relationship around Kurt and she made just as much time for him as she always did and Kurt really appreciated it. It meant so much to see her occasionally pushing plans with her boyfriend in favor of talking to Kurt be it Zoom or a regular phone call. Sometimes, she’d cancel because of her recording schedule, which Kurt understood. When he had been rehearsing for a Broadway production of Moulin Rouge!, his schedule was ever-changing.

Tonight was different though because Mercedes had no excuse to cancel on Kurt. She was literally ordered to stay in her apartment. There were no recording sessions, no producers to meet with, and her boyfriend was basically living with her so Kurt’s a little frustrated to be left waiting on Zoom. He’ll give her 15 minutes before texting her. He's still using the college 15-minute rule. As in if the professor doesn’t show after 15 minutes, the class is free to leave. Except, in this case, Kurt was planning to text his friend until she responded.

Kurt did what he usually did while waiting. Played a new word in Scrabble against Carole and went through his recently saved photos (deleting the ones automatically saved from his Instagram Stories) before ultimately opening his fashion Twitter account and scrolling endlessly. He’ll periodically look at the time and note only a minute has passed since he last looked. Until someone who is definitely not Mercedes joins his Zoom meeting room and says hello.

“Hello,” Kurt says, putting his phone down.

“Um hi,” the other man replies. “You’re not Cooper.”

“And you’re not Mercedes.”

“No, I’m not. This is awkward.” He runs his hand through his black curls. “I’m so sorry. I should probably hop off and yell at my brother for giving me the wrong Zoom ID.”

“It’s no problem, my friend’s likely ditching me for her boyfriend. This was a nice surprise.”

“Is it?” he asks. “Cause I feel pretty embarrassed right now. What are the odds I typed an actual Zoom ID in?”

“Well, you were looking for your brother,” Kurt says. “I imagine it’s similar odds to dialing the wrong phone number.”

The man laughs. “You’re probably right. I’m Blaine by the way.”

“Kurt.”

“Wait, you aren’t…” Blaine trails off and leans closer to the camera like he’s trying to get a better look at Kurt. “You are,” he concludes. “Kurt Hummel?”

“Um yes?” Kurt winces at his voice cracking.

“I saw you twice on Broadway last year. You were outstanding as Christian. Moulin Rouge! is one of my favorite movies so when I heard it was going to Broadway, I knew I had to get tickets. Then, after I saw it the first time I didn’t shut up about how incredible it was so Coop brought me tickets again for my birthday, which ended up being much better seats than I could afford.”

“Oh, well thank you. It’s one of my favorite movies too. That’s why I auditioned in the first place but I was shocked to get the lead. I was told so often that a voice like mine didn’t get the romantic roles of the stage.”

“Are you kidding? They couldn’t have cast a better Christian! I saw you in Peter Pan too. Stunning performance.”

“You saw Peter Pan?” Kurt questions. “I performed that for a charity event at a nursing house like five years ago.”

“At my grandmother’s nursing home to be exact.” Kurt thought Blaine was turning a little red but maybe it was the lighting. “I’ve been following your career ever since. I hope Moulin Rogue! won’t be your last performance. It’d be a waste of talent.”

Kurt smiles. “I appreciate your support. I don’t intend to make it my last but I’m taking a short break from performing to get back into student mode. I’m finishing up my last semester of grad school at NYU.”

“I did my undergrad at NYU. Great professors,” Blaine comments. “I was actually supposed to be making my debut on the stage this summer but alas COVID-19 has shut us down for a bit.”

“Debut in what? If you don’t mind me asking.”

“David Mamet’s American Buffalo.”

“Let me guess, Bobby?”

“Yeah,” Blaine replies grinning.

“I’m sure it’ll be back up and running soon. I assume you still live in the city then?”

“I do. New York’s my real home. I always felt out of place in California. My mom moved us there after her divorce and Cooper got his first gig so we stuck around.”

“Gig? Like a band?” Kurt asks, wondering if Cooper ran in similar circles as his college friend, Elliott.

“No, like acting actually. Sorry, poor word choice on my part. He did credit-score commercials for a while but now he primarily does soap operas.”

“Wait, you mean your brother is Cooper Anderson?”

“Um yeah, he is,” Blaine admits.

“Now, it’s my turn to be embarrassed.” Kurt feels his face warm up. “I might’ve had the jingle to that credit-score commercials as my ringtone back in high school.”

“No, you did not!” Blaine exclaims, laughing a little.

“I’m afraid so,” Kurt tells him. “No offense but Cooper was every young gay teen’s fantasy in Ohio. And by every young gay teen, I mean myself because there was only one gay teen in Lima.”

“Kurt, I promise to never tell Cooper of this because his ego is already too large to handle however I will be holding this secret near and dear to my heart only to remember it fondly when I need a good laugh.”

“Oh hush.” Kurt bats his hand at the camera.

“So, what are you studying at NYU?”

This question led the two down a rabbit hole of their favorite classes and professors. Similar experiences they had during vocal performances and various laughter-inducing stories of their off-campus activities. Kurt’s friends’ weekly karaoke nights, Blaine’s goal to try every coffee shop in Greenwich Village, Kurt’s dream role to play Peter Allen in The Boy From Oz, and Blaine’s secret identity Nightbird, who made yearly appearances in October when Blaine went to sing-a-longs at local children’s hospitals.

“Sam learned the hard way that Gatorade hurts more coming out of your nose than chocolate milk does,” Blaine chuckles.

Kurt is about to jump in with another story but a third box shows up on their screens. It’s Mercedes.

“Kurt, I am so so sorry,” she says. “Oh, hello.”

“Hi,” Blaine waves. “Mercedes, I presume?”

“That’s me.”

The call goes silent for a moment.

“Mercedes, this is Blaine.” Blaine smiles. “You were apologizing…”

“Right,” she says, ignoring Blaine’s presence for a minute while she explains.

Meanwhile, Kurt is typing a chat to Blaine so Mercedes won’t see it.

Kurt: Lovely chatting with you tonight. I’d love to meet up again sometime.

Blaine: Me too. Text me.

Kurt quickly entered the number into his phone and nodded confirming that he was both listening to Mercedes and was agreeing to text Blaine.

“Apology accepted,” Kurt tells Mercedes once she’s finished.

She grins.

“Well, I don’t want to interrupt. Lovely to meet you both but I think I’ll try and call my brother now as I had originally planned.”

Blaine does a two-handed wave before leaving the meeting.

“You have a lotta explainin’ to do, mister,” Mercedes says. “Who was that cutie?”

Kurt sighs dreamily. “If all goes my way, a potential boyfriend.”

Mercedes claps excitedly and proceeds to pull all the information Kurt’s willing to divulge about Blaine Anderson.

[tea-with-cinnamontoast]

family.

[A/N: E. this is the nhs family day au thing,, i actually like it wow-]

"Ugh, family day. Stupid 'Family Bonding' day," the puple-haired teen mumbled, cleaning up his room. The same thing every year, Norrisville High had a 'Family Bonding' day where the students are supposed to bring at least one person from their family to school and apparently, bond. Howard said there was a bazaar, lots of games, and many yummy food. Randy didn't know, because he never participated. His dad divorced with his mom, and his mom is too busy working, that he never joined.

He always wanted to, he admitted. Randy wanted a time with his family, but he drifted apart from his mom and lost contact with his dad. The teen imagined laughing with his parents, playing ring-toss and winning prizes. He imagined himself eating cotton candy and making funny faces with his parents in the photo booth. He wanted to have fun and 'bond', as the school said it, and have the brucest day of the year. But, no. Randy was the only child of two adults, adults that Randy barely even talk to these days.

"Never once have I even joined, because of some stupid business mom always does," the boy grumbled to himself, taking his books away for tomorrow is Saturday. In worse cases, Randy would think that his mom was just avoiding him. He hated Family Bonding Day. He hated not being there. He hated not having fun. He hated not having a proper, fun and close family. To be honest, Randy didn't know if it was illegal to come in without a family, yet he was too embarrassed to try. He didn't want to be known as 'the shoob with no parents' cause that's how sad being a freshman is. Once you got a name, there is no coming back.

Done cleaning up with his bits and bobs, he grabbed the Nomicon and put it by his table, having a kind of feeling that the book was listening, but Randy shrugged the thought off and sighed. "Welp, another Family day, another full-day of playing Grave Puncher in my underwear, I guess," the teen begrudgingly went up to the top bunk and rested his eyes.

-- + --

"Wake up, ninja," a stern, yet soothing, voice called onto Randy. "We are going to be late." It took a while for the newly woken up boy to register the sound. Then it occurred to him, the source of the voice was from his own mentor, Nomi. The teen groaned and sat up, rubbing his eyes. He yawned and saw Nomi with her gorgeous red hair in a, surprisingly, modern attire. Her hair was tied in a pony tail, yet some of her hair is still loose. She used a black shirt, with the nomicon pattern in it, and black pants. She also wore red shoes.

The boy looked over her shoulder and saw Satoru sitting on his sofa, resting his head and closed his eyes. He used a ponytail for his hair, red shirt with a Norisu Nine symbol and black pants. The First Ninja peeked his eyes opened for a bit and saw Randy awake, stretching his arm and walked over to the boy. "Come on, get ready. We are going to walk there soon," he urged, the boy nodding in response and quickly got ready.

Up in his normal clothes, the three went outside Randy's house and walked. The siblings talked and laughed as the boy silently listening, excited, yet curious, of where they were going. "Hey guyss, it'll be bruce if you tell me where we're going. Ooh! Training maybe? What am I going to learn today?" the teen asked the adults. "You will know when we will get there," Nomi answered smiling, which triggered Randy's curiosity even more. The boy fake-pouted as Satoru chuckled by his side. This'll be interesting.

All Randy knew was that they were heading uptown, where the malls, McFist Industry, Norrisville High, and other McStores lie. Maybe they were heading to the park? Oh! Maybe they're gonna shop together? The boy thought hard, wanting to know where they were going. It was rare for the two to spring out of the Nomicon, so maybe this is an emergency of some sort, where they have to train and teach Randy new stuff. It was exciting.

But when the teen got there it wasn't what he was expecting.

-- + --

To say he was surprised was an understatement, Randy was filled with a few feelings. Shock, curiosity, confusion, and posibly... happiness? It was mixed up and the boy didn't know what to expect. He was in front of the school. On Family Day. Without a family. Well, the last one was debatable, the two adults beside him we're like family to him, closer than his bond with his own mom. Which isn't supposed to be a good thing, Randy guessed.

"Why... are we here?" the boy asked, looking at the blue and yellow banners all over the place. The ribbon on the school were put up high, with the writings "HELLO PARENTS, WELCOME TO FAMILY BONDING DAY!!" written messily by one of the students using yellow paint. The outside was full of people, from adults to their children, from the teachers to the other staff. The place looked fun and cheerful, like there isn't a prison of an ancient evil sorcerer under it ('Which would be great if it wasn't literal,' Randy thought).

"Nomi overheard your predicament, so we thought it would be... bruce if you could come here," Satoru answered, the red head nodded. "But my parents aren't here and..." Randy said, not yet catching on the wind. The two raised their eye brows. 'Oh,' the boy realized. "You two are..." he tried to say.

Tears started swelling up in his eyes, but the others didn't notice. They were too busy looking at the well-decorated school, and Randy could appreciate that. Despite feeling the nerve to break down and say thank you in front of everyone, he decided that the best way to cherish the day is by giving the not-from-the-present sibling the best time of their 800 year-old life. But he couldn't stop the urge to hug the two, and so he did.

It took a while for Satoru and Nomi to register what the juice happened, but returned the hug and embrace the boy. Excitedly, Randy dragged the two past-ninjas inside, past the crowded place. The boy looked overjoyed and is jumping everywhere like an excited puppy, pointing everywhere and listing the things he wanted to do. For the two siblings though, it was a new sight.

They never saw most events that happened in the school from a book, mind you, so they were fascinated, but the two kept cool. "Not like the last time we visited eh, brother?" Nomi smiled and Satoru nodded. To be honest, Nomi was as interesting as her brother. Hidden well, she was amused at how far humanity came from her time.

"Randy! You're here?" a voice, the purple-haired teen recognize everywhere, called from wherever, running and panting towards him. "But I thought you... you know." Randy understood the silent phrase. 'Don't want to be seen without a parent'. The lanky teen just shrugged and answered with a simple "Yeah."

"Ah, Wienerman, such a wonderful time to meet again," Satoru greeted from behind, with Nomi came with a bit of resentment. The girl do not like Howard. He was selfish, mean, and overall not a good friend, but Randy needed his bro, and Nomi could understand that. But still, that doesn't mean she liked him and the feeling was mutual.

Satoru, on the other hand, liked (liked, mind you) that Wienerman kid. His friendship with Randy reminded him of his own with Plop Plop, and that was nice to see. Nomi didn't know what her brother saw on the orange-haired boy, but decided not to ask. Howard saw the two and gasped for a while, and Randy sheepishly smiled. "Yeah, they're posing as family," the tall teen confirmed.

"Well, bruce to see you again, First Ninj," Howard greeted back, grinning. He always liked the First Ninja and Plop Plop, they were cool, especially when the two teen went back in time. "Please, call me Satoru. Satoru Norisawa," the ninja replied. Nomi joined them, Randy winced a bit. He knew their resentment and that they would never get along. Howard addressed the redhead with a simple "You."

Nomi didn't answer nor greeted the boy, they just stared at each other, and Randy wondered which one hated the other more. It was a bit too intense for the teen's comfort, and Satoru catched his discomfort. "Nomi..." her brother started. "Howie! There you are!" someone called from behind, stopping Howard from his glaring contest.

"Randy! Great to see you here!" Howard's dad, Mort Wienerman, came. He later acknowledged the two adults and smiled, though he looked sort of confused. "And you must be Randy's..." he reached his hand for a shake, but he couldnt finish the statement. "Family," the teen answered simply. And he wasn't lying. "Nomi Norisawa, and my brother, Satoru," Nomi introduced, shaking the other's hand. "Mort Wienerman, family from Japan?" Howard's dad asked. Randy took this one, "Yeah, you could say that."

Nomi inspected the man in front of her, and concluded that this is Howard's father. Behind him, a girl with the same fantastic orange shade of hair walked towards them. "Nice to see that Randall can make it, for once," the female said, not looking up from her phone ("It's Randy! It's always been Randy!"). "I'm going to get some food, see you later," the man informed them. "Dad, can I stay with Cunningham?" Howard asked, and Mort nodded.

"So what do we start with first? I'm leaning to food, but I'm also thinking about games," Randy started, walking with the group. He wanted the two ninjas to have a time of their life, and he needed to be good. "I vote food," Howard said. "Of course you do. How about you two?" the lanky teen asked. "We have never been here, do you not remember?" Satoru answered, his hands crossed behind him, looking at the long food stands and games.

"Right. We're going to the game section!" Randy announced like a pirate captain and pointed, walking towards the games.

-- + --

"Haha! You are going to lose, dear brother!" Nomi exclaimed to his brother, the two playing skeeball. Randy laughed and watched with fascination. "Not if I beat you first, dearest Nomi," Satoru shot back, focusing on the game. The purple-haired teen didn't know if it was the "800 year old ninja knowledge" thing or that they practiced (which is unlikely...) but the two we're super skilled and evenly matched, both of them hitting the bullseye with every ball they had.

The game keeper watched with wide eyes, and others started coming, too. They watched the two spar it out in the game, as the two focused on the hole. The siblings finally stopped when they have no more balls, and deemed themselves the winner. There was a competitive glare between the Norisawas for a while, but it boiled down into laughter and enjoyment. Randy loved every second of it.

Randy loved they way they were just... here. Wow, even his mortal, easier-to-be-here mom couldn't be in this spot right now, yet two from-the-past siblings managed to be there. For him. The teen loved the way they would laugh together and take care of him, occasionally being an 'actual' parent just for him to be safe. He love the way they were open and fun, and would do anything to make Randy happy. He just loved them. They were like his own parent figure. Like a family.

Nomi's giggles and Satoru's chuckling filled Randy's heart with joy, and they decided to buy some food. The two never tried 'modern' food before, and for that reason, the teen wanted to pick the best food for them. "So Howard, name the best food here," he whispered to his biffer, who was munching on some chips. "Well, Cunningham. I think I would choose corndogs, then top it off with some cotton candy," the short boy answered, cheese from the chips smeared his mouth.

And so he did. The freshman bought some corndogs and shared them with his best friend and, admittedly, his family. They were peacefully laughing, when a giant explosion can be heard. "Seriously? We we're having fun and a monster comes?" Randy mumbled under his breath. "Go, Ninja. We will be here if you need help," Satoru assured. The teen nodded and ran to the restroom, leaving his teachers and biffer alone.

The boy used his mask, flashing lights and black ribbons covered him. After all the lightshow was done, he ran out of the stall and smoke-bombed his way in. "Smoke bomb! Hey, monster! Seriously!? On Family Day?! Who would even-" before he could finished his sentence, the stanked one attacked. The 'corrupted' one looked different, it was too robotic for a human, but too emotional for a robot. The Ninja remembered fighting a staked Viceroy creation, but this wasn't the same.

It's eyes stared into Randy, causing uneasiness. The teen didn't know how or why this one got stanked, but the fight sure wasn't easy. And yet, something about its... shape is recognizable. The creature had a bull's head and a human body, not a very good look on anyone, to be honest. The boy racked up his name, thinking about his classes. It was hard, since he zoned out most of his scholar studies. Then he realized.

"You're a, um, Minator? How do you say it's shoob name... Oh yeah, uh, Minotaur!" the Ninja shouted it's name. 'Names have power,' he recalled from a movie. Randy heard about this nasty piece of work, actually, he heard of the actual one not a half robotic one. Apparently, some lady from Ancient Greece decided it was a great idea to make a child with a bull. A honkin' bull. The boy remembered a few parts of the story, when explained in his history class (talking about Greece and its lush mythology), and remembered the hero Theseus.

But he wasn't fighting just any Minatour shaped robot. He was fighting a stanked one, and those are bad news.

Not looking at the Minotaur coming towards him full speed after a fun, and totally not destructive, rampage around the school, all Randy can remember was flying. It would've been great if it wasn't a dream, yet it wasn't, and the Ninja is plunging in super speed into his death. But he didn't feel the ground. Which is weird, maybe he died? "Got you, Ninja," Satoru's voice called from behind the mask.

The teen opened his eyes and stood up, watching the scenes. There were quick movements here and there, the robot getting slashed slowly and steadily, but the creature wouldn't go down that easily. Gradually, it rose up, dodging Nomi's (now in a mask) attacks and charging on the girl. She was growing restless and retreated, then united with the male ninjas.

"This creature... cannot be fought alone," the girl summarized. They planned an ambush and charged, grabbing their katanas and other weapons. Skilled in hand-in-hand combat, Satoru grabbed a katana. More skilled in ranged attacks, Nomi pulled out a bow and arrow (which isn't very ninja-y you might think but holy cheese she's good). Skilled in a more street fighting type of combat, Randy grabbed a stick (or a pole? The teen called it the "Ninja Smacking Stick!").

They fought and fought, slashed and slashed, stabbed and stabbed. Randy kept calling the bull names (his mouth can be as demonic as the Tengu, I swear to the Norisu Nine-). But nothing seems to work. Until, Satoru stabbed it's heart. "When a great warrior strikes you down, it would be best to stay down," Satoru quipped.

Maybe he already figured out where the stanking was or he just accidentally did it, green smoke left the robotic body and went underground, back to the Sorcerer. The three smoke-bombed away and appeared in the field with their normal clothes. Some witnesses said that they saw three warriors. Howard caught up with them and said, "Oh Cunningham! You should've seen the bull-thingy's face when you called him names!" Nomi thought it would be more suitable if he asked if Randy was okay, but then again, this is Howard we're talking about.

Howard needed to go, and Nomi hid her relief. She couldn't stand any more seconds with the short boy and would've already strangled him if he wasn't Randy's friend. The purple-haired teen decided to go to the photobooth and take some pictures together. Free of any worry, they made funny faces and shit-eating grins, ended up laughing together. It was getting dark, and the bazaar/carnival sort of thing is destroyed anyway, so they decided to go home. Watching the sunset, Randy appreciated the moment, though there was a feeling of guilt.

"Hey, guys? Thank you for bringing me here and sorry for not being able to kill the robot alone. I shoobed this day for you all didn't I?" the boy hung his head low. He didn't see the head shakes and the smiles. "When a Ninja needs help, he can always ask for help," Nomi said softly. "It was, with no doubt, one of the best things that happened in the 800 years. It was very... bruce," Satoru smiled. The teen couldn't help but to grin.

Randy loved today. He smelled the fragrance of the flowers blooming as they walked home, calmly talking to his two mentors. Mentors that became family, not since today, but the teen felt they were family from the first. What did he learn today, Randy didn't know. But one thing's for sure: he has a family. He has a great best friend. He has an amazing job. What else can he ask for?

[mostly-megan]

I Read The Triple Frontier Early Draft Script

And I have several thoughts on it. @frannyzooey Told me to, so I’m going to go down the line of points I thought were interesting and notes on the characters. It’s all going to be below the cut so we don’t bother the people who don’t care.

It was clearly a very early draft, but I still think it’s interesting to see how the characters changed over time.

Important note: Everyone except for Benny and Tom is only referred to by their nicknames, no real names. So I keep that up to keep from getting confused. 

I do not link to the google doc with the script, but you can dm me if you want the link privately.

Warnings: Mentions of violence, suicide, and sex; mild gore; character death; racism

Story:

Pope during the drug raid learns from a teen in the gang where Lorea keeps his money

Redfly, Benny, and Cat are in North Carolina and keep turning down bs military mission

Pope shows up on Redfly’s stoop, stays with his family, and he tells him about the heist

Redfly seems to agree, but only because Pope is asking and not for the money

The “ You were shot 5 times for your country and can’t afford a new truck” scene is here bit for bit

They go meet Ironhead at one of his support group speeches to convince him to join. He begrudgingly agrees.

Cat and Redfly talk at the fight about the job and both reluctantly agree since the other will do it

Cut to South America running through surveillance, we learn that there are two gun towers, ground sensors, machine guns, and several guards

Pope’s informant is Lorea’s sugar baby(?), Yovanna, who gave him a pic of the money in the office a few weeks prior

The plan is to hide in one of the maid vans and make their way in and out with the money

Everyone is distrustful of his old intel, so they do their own surveillance 

Getting caught in rain on heist day, they wait in the jungle for the guard rotations to resume, almost catching hypothermia

The heist vibe is the same, but this time they find the money is not there instantly

Redfly and Cat try to call the mission, but Benny and Pope insist on getting the money

Benny gets shot(grazed?) in the face and wants to say fuck it, but Redfly reminds him it was his idea

Pope blackmails the guard in the video room and gets the tape before killing him

While Cat, Benny, and Redfly grab the money, Ironhead is shot badly and they have to tape his mouth to keep him quiet

This is when Redfly snaps and decides they go out blazing

Lorea’s guards are outside waiting for them, but the boys literally blow up the front of the house and make a run for the river behind the house with a raft waiting

Lorea’s personal guard shoots him

Kidnapping Yovanna from her apartment, they get her money, passport, and visa to her Redfly grills her and seriously debates killing her, but instructs her to get to Australia 

After essentially holding up the airstrip workers, they see the news of the break-in on TV and weigh 8 tons of money 

Cat argues it’s too much weight, but agrees it will probably be fine

During the flight, Ironhead dies from his wound

Helicopter crash is the same

Pope goes in solo to speak with the farmers and they actually almost kill him before Redfly shoots way too many of them

They get pack animals from the farmers, load up the money and Ironhead, and start climbing

At some point, Cat insists they bury Ironhead because taking a body with them is going to start causing way worse issues

They camp at the burial spot, Pope voices how he blames himself for the death

The trek up the mountain is the same, including dumping some of the money and memorizing the coordinates

Getting to a port town, Cat gets sick from exposure, so they rest a few days

The local gang leader figures out who they are and uses his gang of kids to confront them

They shoot their way out and grab with guns and the money backpack on the way to the car

Benny drives and they almost flip the truck

They literally ALL get shot, but still make it to the boat and get away

The boys all agree to donate all the money to charity, in honor of Ironhead, and almost literally head off to the sunset

Characters:

Redfly

All-American late 30′s white guy; genuiniely wants to be a good person, but seems too wrapped up in the Army life

He’s the main character and most of the story is his POV

He is still with Molly and the girls, and we actually get a nice scene with them in here

He legitimately snaps once Ironhead is shot and doesn’t come back until after they bury him

He seriously almost kills Yovanna and sounds like he regrets not doing so

Says the words to her “After you sucked him off? You were lying there, playing with him- And you asked ‘What’s your real name? Where are you from?’-What did he say?” and I disliked it

Yovanna tells him that Pope thought he was so honest and he hates knowing he is not that person anymore

Pope

Mid-30′s white guy; way more of an instigator and really manipulated his friends to join him 

They never give a reason why he wants to get rid of Lorea

His argument for committing a crime is that America was founded on crimes and it’s not different them the war crimes they committed under orders

Seems embarrassed about his relationship with Yovanna and it’s implied he actually told her his name, but he told her Redfly is the most honest guy he knows. 

Calls some indigenous South Americans “Indians” and says they “don’t even know what century it is”

When an informant runs late, he says it’s because they run on Latino Standard Time

He saved Ironhead’s life once in fire and that is how he convices him to come, so he blames himself solely for his death

He literally brought cigars with them for after the heist. They smoke them once they are in the boat

They made Pope the asshole we don’t like, which is understandable, but upsetting

Catfish

Laid-back mid-30′s white guy who now trains Benny and works as a Private Investigator

He still is the main joker and sarcasm, but they really make sure we remember how dark his past is

There is a scene played as a laugh where he gets annoyed waiting for a cheating couple to fuck, so he holds them at gunpoint, tells them to strip and kiss, take the picture, and then tells them he’s sorry, but they should just get a divorce. It comes off terrifying and gross.

He seems to really distrust Pope and is closest to Redfly

He barely speaks Spanish

The Special Forces Museum put up a statue of him, the only living operative to have one, and his wife tells him to retire then because there was no topping that

When they argue about the weight limit, Cat says “Oh, I’m sorry, I missed you going to flight school.” And I appreciate that line.

Benny

Early 30′s white fighter

He’s described as being all or nothing and prone to manic depressive behavior and “prone to pills”

Redfly thinks he’s too old to go pro in fighting and Benny is v offended

He’s the only one to cry over Ironhead’s death

He still uses his “fuck you” money for a fire

He seems to have the most med knowledge and is the one checking for hypothermia, gives the “reason” why Ironhead dies, helps nurse Cat when he’s sick

He’s mostly played for laughs and it’s sort of a waste

Ironhead

Grizzled, but generous 55 year old white vet

He is literally the father figure here and is called that often

He is not related to Benny, but he seems to have a very soft spot for him as the youngest

He somehow served under Redfly?

He gave up running and gunning to mediate and help newer retirees

In the support group, his speech details all of the horrible things that he’s seen and had happen to him, this is supposed to be the reason why the younger soldiers listen to him

One of the group admits to almost committing suicide the past night and Ironhead say he will not tell him not to do it, just that he will not do it tonight and they all recite not tonight, it’s actually touching to “see” them all taking heart in what he is saying

He only agrees to help Pope because Pope once saved his life in combat and he told him he owes him. This scene is described as a father sadden that he can’t get through to his son, but says yes to keep an eye on them

In the “what will you buy with your money” scene, he says he will donate it to charity. It’s quickly followed by Benny excitedly saying he wants a Ferrari and Ironhead affectionately looks at him and says, “That’s a nice car, Ben!” Which made my doubting heart melt...

He the entire time gives the boys reminders to preserve their humanity and is the one who tell Redfly it’s good he let Yovanna go

When he’s shot, they say that the wound was through, meaning that the bullet entered and exited. But, when he dies, Benny says the bullet must have shifted and nudged into his heart. And I’m really annoyed by that clear mistake....

I genuinely did like this version of the character, not more than OUR Will, but I liked him

Lorea

His intro to the movie is literally leading the police in a high-speed chase in his yellow Lambo

He brings a business partner to his mansion during the boys surveying his house and they see his personal guard shoot the partner and cut off his head so it fits in the trunk of the car

I had to learn that, so now so do you

He has a thing for exotic birds and has to bring in several shifts of maids to clean up after them

He comes off here as way more of a rich wimp

Yovanna

Lorea’s sugar baby/girlfriend who sleeps with Pope and gives him info

She used to be a beauty queen

The script says Redfly is her type and she says out-loud that she wants to watch Pope and Redfly fuck. 

She taught one of Lorea’s birds to say “Hello, Beautiful” and lets that bird get loose in the mansion so she can get the pic of the money for Pope

I genuinely liked her character, too

My Review

I prefer the actual plot and planning of the final movie. The plan and surveillance here slowly fell together smoothly, but ultimately made far less sense.

But, I think they felt like actual friends here. They interact with each other instead of around each other

But this version is racist and kind of gross, so I’d take kind of boring any day

4/10, please do not make me read again

Tagging because you guys seemed interested: @frannyzooey @mandoplease

@krissology @pedropasscals (thought you might like it)

[this-is-quite-homoerotic]

Another Janto AU idea I’ll probably never write

Okay, this one’s a bit weird. TRUST ME THOUGH, I WON’T LET YOU DOWN!

(Warning: there is no underage, I swear. In case it looks like that’s where I’m heading, I promise I’m not.)

I’ve been thinking about the Jack&Owen father/son dynamic and the Owen&Ianto brothers dynamic and.

No-aliens Modern day AU where a young Jack marries Owen’s mum after a short and tumultuous love affair when Owen’s a kid. The marriage doesn’t last, Jack starts growing out of love with her when he sees how she treats little Owen, who at this point would be 7 or so, and soon other flaws he’d been too enamoured to notice start becoming more and bigger issues until the couple breaks up.

Jack is in his early 20s, and if you’d ask him before he married he’d have told you he wasn’t anywhere near ready to be a father. That doesn’t stop him from imprinting on Owen within minutes of meeting him, however, and with the way Owen’s mother treats him, he actually ends up taking him in the divorce, after many rows and a few teary discussions, because he loves the kid, and he can see that she was not actually in the position to raise anyone, for a variety of reasons that I won’t elaborate on here. She does visit him, Jack is always happy to facilitate her visits with Owen, but not terribly often.

It takes a few years, but Jack eventually adopts him legally, with his mother’s blessings. He talks to Owen every step of the way, always listens to what he has to say, always respecting (within reason) what he wants. Through mutual agreement, they never change Owen’s last name.

Jack isn’t the best father ever, by any stretch. It’s a learning curve, and there’s a few big stumbles. But he loves that kid so much, and for the first time in his life Owen has an adult and parental figure who listens attentively to what he has to say, who always asks for his opinion before making any choices that affect him, who would kill and die for him, who loves him, unconditionally, and it makes a difference.

So Owen grows up with love and support, and once he hits puberty he’s only a tiny bit nervous to tell his father he’s bi since Jack has been dating people of all genders on and off since he divorced his mother. Owen was consistently suspicious of all of them, and privately thought none of them was good enough for his father, but he never said it. He did want Jack to be happy, after all. None of them last too long, and in the end it’s always just the two of them. Jack seems happy enough with it, so Owen doesn’t worry.

Anyway, his coming out goes great; Jack is so proud he cries a little and he insists on hugging him even longer than usual. (Jack is a hugger, Owen has resigned himself to it.) Owen huffs and doles out the eye-rolls and the ‘it’s-not-a-big-deal’s and ‘oh my god, dad, you’re so embarrassing’ but he’s secretly very pleased. Jack takes him to pride for the first time that very year, and it becomes a yearly tradition.

Owen befriends Ianto Jones by proxy at first: Ianto was in his group of friends and they ended up hanging out together a lot, first in a group and later more one-on-one. He’s alright, even if he is two whole years younger than him and a bit of a nerd. There is one (1) instance when Owen almost got mad at him, when Ianto asked if he’d been adopted (after another mate of his mentioned something about it). But after he’d replied defensively, he realised Ianto wasn’t trying to be mean about it. At all. 

“That must be great, though. You know for sure that your dad wanted you, was willing to fight to keep you.” That’s how Owen found out about Ianto’s not so great home situation.

So they became mates, and soon Owen starts inviting Ianto over.

Now, the problem with being raised by a young, stunningly attractive single parent, of course, is that all his friends are more likely to have a crush on his father than they are to like him that way. Not that Owen fancies Ianto or anything. But it’s weird, Jack is old.

Ianto, like most of Owen’s female friends and some of his guy friends, develops a crush on his father. Fucking hell. The little shit keeps sneaking furtive little glances Jack’s way, and whenever Jack actually addresses him, he smiles beatifically and pretends he’s not the acerbic juvenile delinquent he really is (as if Owen would hang out with him if he was that boring). He perks up whenever Jack is around; smiles all the time. It’s bizarre.

Jack doesn’t notice. Once the initial weirdness wears off, Owen thinks it’s hilarious that his father can’t see through Ianto’s polite, helpful little boy facade. So he doesn’t say anything. He just enjoys the show. It goes like this: Ianto comes over, they hang out for a while. Jack gets home from work, Ianto gets starry eyed and promptly becomes this alien perfectly-behaved A-student right in front of Owen’s very amused eyes. Ianto’s crush goes right over Jack’s head the entire time. Owen gets to laugh at Ianto being flustered and/or pretending to have perfect manners, and Ianto gets whatever dopamine rush he gets from staring at Jack. Win-win.

They keep in touch when Owen goes to uni and later when Ianto goes to a different one, but they don’t see each other very often and eventually grow distant. Yadda yadda, life happens and eventually they re-connect.

Ianto introduces Owen to a friend of his, Katie, obnoxiously telling her that while he isn’t as hot as his father, he’ll do. (Katie fully believes he’s joking until Owen brings her home to meet Jack. She still thinks Owen is hotter, but she can see what Ianto meant, certainly. “That’s love for you,” Ianto laments. “It blinds you.” Owen pretends to be offended.)

The thing is, Owen falls head-over-heels with Katie. He’s absolutely gone on her, and after discussing it a little to make sure she’s on the same page as him, he pops the question. Ianto is, of course, invited to the wedding.

So that’s how we get to 25-year-old Ianto seeing early-to-mid 40s Jack again for the first time in almost a decade. For the first time ever, Jack sees him right back.

Understandably, Jack feels a little guilty about noticing how nicely his son’s younger friend looks in a suit, but there’s no harm in looking, right? The ceremony is lovely, Jack cries (and so does Owen, though he glares when anyone mentions it), after which they swiftly move on to the party.

Deep into the night, late enough that the bride and groom have retired to start their honeymoon, Jack is having one more drink as he watches the mostly drunk guests dance and toast to the happy couple. He’s feeling old and maudlin and so happy for his son that his chest could burst, when Ianto makes his move.

Talking leads to snogging leads Ianto pushing Jack up against an out-of the-way wall and whispering all the dirty things he’d like to do to him in that sinful Welsh accent leads to them falling in bed together at Jack’s hotel room and staying there for the next several hours (not all of them spent awake).

Jack, having had no clue that Ianto had harbored an intense teenage crush on him and had been dreaming about this for literal years, figured it was just a one-night-thing brought about by loneliness or boredom.

The morning after, however, Ianto formally asks him out.

Jack protests (only a little, and with no real force behind it) that he’s almost twice Ianto’s age, surely he can’t mean to actually date him. Ianto assures him that he does.

They go out to have a very late brunch. It’s their first official date, and Jack has more fun than he’s had in years. Ianto, who’d only thought of Jack infrequently if still fondly during the years he hadn’t seen him, is positively giddy. Turns out seeing Jack again was all it took for the attraction to come roaring back. But now he can really get to know Jack as an adult, beyond the fantasies he made up as a hormonal teen. The real man holds up surprisingly well against the fantasy. 

Ianto confesses his teenage crush, confesses that he wondered what Jack might look like after all these years when he realised he’d be seeing him again at the wedding, but he never in a million years had expected Jack to somehow look even more delectable than he had back then. (Jack doesn’t blush, but he wants to. They end up right back in his hotel bed once they’re done with brunch.)

Truth is, Jack hadn’t expected it to last, not really. He’d hoped to have some fun with a gorgeous young man before said man got bored and moved on without him. He didn’t expect to fall in love. He certainly didn’t expect, wouldn’t have believed that sleepy morning when he’d woken up in the arms of a warm, sleep-soft Welshman who asked to take him out on a proper date, that a man young enough to be his son and handsome enough to have his choice of partner would be falling in love with him.

Owen choked on his own laughter when Jack told him Ianto had taken him out on that first date. “I cannot believe it. He did it. He actually did it. The absolute mad lad. It only took him a decade, but he did it. That crazy motherfucker. Fatherfucker. Oh my god, fatherfucker.” Then he started cackling again. Jack was too relieved he wasn’t upset about it to be offended. Despite Ianto’s reassurances that there had never been anything other than strictly platonic friendship between him and Owen, Jack still had the tiniest of worries that Owen might have harbored a crush on Ianto back in his teens. He’d invited Ianto more often than any of his other friends, and the atmosphere had always been different with him, though Jack had never managed to put his finger on how, back then.

Owen laughed even harder when Jack carefully broached the subject. “Are you kidding me? He was too busy ogling you to ever notice me, thank Christ. Would have been awkward if he did, I always saw him more as a little brother, really.” Well, didn’t that make Jack feel supremely awkward. His son saw his latest lover as a little brother. Weird, even by Jack’s standards. At least Ianto’s teenage crush confession was true. Still a bit weird, but flattering, now that that kid had grown into a gorgeous young man who still found Jack 'disarmingly attractive’ (his words).

“Of course you have my blessings,” Owen griped good-naturedly when Ianto called to ask. In retrospect, calling him during his honeymoon with the woman he loved who he’d only met because Ianto had introduced them had been a good tactical decision. He was feeling charitable towards him, and he was too high on love and sex to begrudge Ianto this.

“Thank you. You can call me ‘Tad’ if you want,” Ianto countered, because he was still a little shit with a sarcastic streak a mile wide and a penchant for annoying Owen even when he was technically begging for his blessing to date Owen’s father.

“Fuck off,” Owen told him, but there was no bite to it, he sounded amused if anything, and Ianto knew then that Owen had meant it.

“Of course. I won’t rush you. I can wait until it feels organic, son.”

Owen hung up on him. Less than a minute later, Ianto got a text message that said. ‘If you break his heart, I’ll kick your arse xoxo’. He sent back a string of heart emojis.

A year and a half later, Ianto called Owen to tell him he was planning to propose. Owen demanded to be his best man.

The year Owen turned thirty-one, Jack and Ianto adopted two siblings (a little boy and a baby girl). They named Owen their godfather (yes, both of them).

That day, as Owen was asked to sign the papers that would legally make him the children’s guardian in case anything happened to their fathers, he remembered the day he met Jack, when his mother had brought him over for the first time. He remembered, a bit blurry due to time, the talks Jack and his mother had had with him when they were in the process of splitting up, how Jack had fought to convince them both that he should be the one to raise Owen. He recalled, like a much-beloved photograph he took out to stare at when he needed it, the well-worn memory of walking into their new house for the first time, and realising that it was real, that Jack really did mean to adopt him, that he’d really be living with him from then on; that Jack really wanted him. He remembered all the times Jack had told him that family wasn’t blood, family was love, and trust, and commitment. And he remembered, with perfect, stunning clarity, a 15-year-old Ianto telling him he’d like to adopt when he was older, even if he ended up with someone who could get pregnant.

He also remembered a 15-year-old Ianto making heart eyes at his father in their living-room while Owen struggled not to laugh at him, and really, one had to respect a man who stuck to his convictions. Ianto certainly knew what he wanted and put in the work to get it.

At least he was pretty sure he could trust Ianto with Jack’s heart.

(Epilogue:

Because Ianto has a terrible sense of humour, he spends an entire summer calling Owen ‘son’ and ‘kid’ and ‘sport’. Owen makes a face the first couple of times, but he’s brought around pretty quickly between 1) the way Katie laughs whenever Ianto does this, and 2) the bewildered looks it gets them whenever someone hears it, because not only is Ianto younger than Owen, he also looks it. It makes for interesting situations.

So rather than be annoyed, Owen starts to enjoy it. He decides to lean into it, starts calling Ianto ‘tad’ and ‘dad’ and ‘father’, and one memorable time ‘the man who literally birthed me’. Katie chokes on her drink and laughs so hard her abdomen hurts for the next day. Jack actually falls off his chair laughing. Ianto looks like butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth, the little shit.

And they were a loving family who were disgustingly happy for the rest of their lives and never had tragedy befall them, not even once, the end.)

[ofstoriesandstardust]

discovery

a/n: I posted the first chapter and was overwhelmed by the fact that people  actually liked it??? that I decided to ignore my homework that I definitely should be doing to write this. this chapter definitely plays more on SVU, so sorry for the name-drop of people you may not know if you aren’t an SVU fan

main masterlist | the choices we make masterlist | story description | what’s left of us | recognize you

summary: ADA Gray is thriving, just ask any of her fellow ADAs or the detectives at Manhattan’s Special Victims Unit. So shouldn’t the discovery of a brother she never knew about make her feel like her world is collapsing in on her?

warnings: reference to TUA canon death/murders, swearing

word count: 1,587

Elena laughed, holding the door open for Detectives Sonny Carisi and Fin Tutuloa to follow her in the building. Fin had just made a snarky comment that had caused Sonny to roll his eyes and for the blonde to start laughing. She waved to Angela, the woman who worked at the front desk of 1 Hogan Place. The detectives followed her to her office, where they were planning to meet Barba, Liv, and Amanda to discuss to the latest on one of their cases. It had been a complicated case, and a bit of a high profile one, so the DA had assigned both Barba and Elena to work on the case with the SVU detectives. Stone had been gone on vacation when it had happened, thus it was Elena’s case as she worked both Homicide and SVU cases. 

She approached Lucy, who had quickly become one of her closest friends after getting a job as an ADA. “Hey Lucy.” She greeted. The girl smiled. 

“You have a letter.” Lucy said, pulling a draw open and retrieving an envelope from inside. She turned in confusion, moving away from the office door to grab the letter from Lucy. At that moment, Barba, Liv, and Amanda approached the desk, ready for their meeting. “No Dodds?” Lucy asked as Elena grabbed the letter from her outstretched hand. Liv shook her head.

“No, he’s on a trip.” 

“How was court?” Rafael asked, and Elena shrugged. 

“It was court. You know the usual.” Elena’s eyes never tore away from the letter. It just had her first and last name written on, in a somewhat sprawling handwriting. “Lucy, who’s this from?” Elena asked, the curiosity rising in her voice. She sighed. 

“That’s the interesting thing.” Elena’s eyes flicked up to meet her friend’s but only for a moment. “Luther Hargreeves dropped that off. Wanted to make sure it got to you.” Elena’s head shot up. “Mhmm, that’s what I was thinking.” Elena shook her head. 

“Strange.” She said, moving to open the door of her office. The detectives followed her in and she moved to her desk, pulling off her jacket. It was an unusually chilly day in the city for almost June. 

“Wonder what Luther Hargreeves wants with you.” Liv said, setting a file down on the desk. Elena shrugged. 

“Maybe one of his siblings got in trouble again and he’s come to ask for your expertise lawyer help.” Amanda joked and Elena laughed. 

“Probably.” She said as she sat down, tossing the letter on her desk. 

“Man I still can’t believe both of them got off.” Fin said pulling a chair up to the desk. Carisi shook his head. 

“Wonder what the DA was thinking. Oh sure, we’ll just ignore the fact that these people committed crimes because they’re special.” Carisi said, the disgust evident in his voice. The Hargreeves cases had left a bad taste in everyone’s mouth, but especially in New York’s legal field and police officers. 

“Didn't you use to love Allison’s movies?” Amanda replied, shooting Sonny a look. 

“Yeah, but then her brother went and killed a cop. And got away with it.” Sonny said, as he sat down. “Plus, after that custody battle, what she did to her kid... she’s not someone I want to support.” Barba made a face of agreement as he sat down directly across from Elena. 

“Alright, the Taylor’s case. What do you have?” Elena asked, diverting their attention to the important matter at hand.

-

Elena sighed, pulling her hair up into a ponytail as her food cooked in the oven. It had been one of those days and she had just gotten back to her apartment, so pizza rolls for dinner it was. Barba often teased her for eating like a college student but she always shot back that at least she wasn’t shelling out a good chunk of money on sushi all the time. As her food cooked, she shifted through the files she had brought back with her, intending to do a bit more work before heading to bed for the night. The letter she had so quickly forgotten about from earlier in the day slipped out and she picked it up. She took a deep breath as her thumb slid through the top. She pulled the paper out and unfolded it. Holy shit. 

Hi, 

My name’s Luther. Well, you probably already know that I guess. I’m sure you’ve heard about my siblings and I from our superhero days, if not from the days of Diego running from the police and Allison’s stardom. If you haven’t, then I guess I should explain it. My name’s Luther Hargreeves, and I’m Number One out of 7 from The Umbrella Academy. On October 1st, 1989, we were all born to women who weren't previously pregnant, all at the same time. There was 43 of us, in total, as we just learned. Our father, Reginald Hargreeves, who was a millionaire, offered large sum of money to our mothers for us and turned us into his superhuman crimefighting soldiers by the time we were teens. 

The reason I’m telling you this is because we recently found all our files with our information about our biological parents, which is how I found you. You’re my sister, my biological one. And, I’d love a relationship with you, if you want that. If not, please feel free to disregard this letter like you never read it. 

Luther

He left what she was assuming was his phone number at the bottom of the paper. Elena dropped the paper on to the counter, taking a shaky breath, gripping the counter. Luther.. her brother? Unlikely... and yet, not impossible. She had always felt there was something about her parents divorce they weren’t telling her. But still, she’d grown up low income most of her life, and had only become financially stable once she’d secured her job as an ADA. The DA’s office paid a pretty penny, thankfully. So the question was, where’d that sum of money go?

The real question was, did she want to reach out to him? She was curious about him, especially because she didn’t talk to her other siblings. He probably had million of questions about their family, rightfully so. But his family did not have a good reputation. Allison had had a very public and nasty custody battle that had dragged out everything. Vanya had killed her boyfriend, albeit the case seemed to scream self defense. Diego had killed a cop for goodness sake... but even then the facts of the case seemed so murky to everyone outside of Diego’s legal team and the investigators. Establishing a relationship with Luther, getting involved with that family, she might as well kiss her job goodbye. Jack McCoy, Manhattan District Attorney, had made it abundantly clear where he stood on the line of the Hargreeves. If he knew, well, it would be bye-bye to the best job she’d ever had and all the friends, the family, she’d made here in New York. The oven beeped, interrupting her thoughts. She sighed, moving to grab the food. What was she going to do?

-

She tried to keep her hands from shaking as she took a sip of her soda, waiting for Luther. It had taken a few days but she had called him early one morning, asking if he wanted to meet for lunch that day. He had agreed, and at the time she couldn’t help but feel a twinge of excitement that she was going to actually meet him. But as time passed and he hadn’t showed, she was starting to wonder if this was some sort of test from the DA’s office to see where her loyalties lied... or something. It sounded ridiculous, she knew that, but she couldn’t keep her brain from wandering. She glanced at the time on her phone again and sighed. He wasn’t late by any means, she was just ridiculously early. After hours, it seemed, which was probably only ten minutes or so, a large man walked into the restaurant and her heart skipped a beat. That had to be him. His eyes scanned the area until he turned to the hostess. The hostess led him to where she sat and he smiled at her tentatively as he sat down. The place was nice, situated outside, and it was a warm day, making the noise of New York City that much livelier as people walked past, enjoying the day. She’d chosen it specifically because of that, and the fact that it was out fo the way of the courthouse and precinct, meaning there was a low chance anyone from work would see her. She offered him a nervous smile as she took in his appearance. Large build, blonde hair (like hers), brown eyes (what color were her eyes again?), tall. She vaguely heard the hostess ask for what he’d like to drink and him responding with water. he turned his attention back to her. “Hi, I’m Luther.”

“Elena.” she said, nodding at him. She took in a deep breath, folding her hands. “I’m sure you have lots of questions.” He nodded. “Well, ask away.” He took a deep breath, seemingly trying to figure what to ask first. 

“So... DA’s office, huh?” She nodded. “And three siblings, can’t imagine that was a peaceful household.” She chuckled, shaking her head. 

“I don’t think we ever stopped fighting.” He laughed. 

“Try six.” He joked, and she laughed freely. 

“I couldn’t even begin to imagine.”

[sam-writesstuff]

Family (Crowley x reader x Aziraphale)

Requested: Hey! I was wondering if you could write a fic with a teen!reader where she spends a lot of time with Crowley and Aziraphale, they're like protective dads over her. One day the angels/demons take her to try and get information about Crowley and Aziraphale, obviously they rescue her and they don't want her to bother with them anymore because they don't want her to get hurt so she yells at them?? Very angsty with a lovely fluffy ending xo

Warnings: Ignorant family, Slight child abuse. 

Word Count: 1899

A/N: I know I said I will post a fic last weekend, but due to some technical issues with my computer, I wasn’t able to finish this ‘til today... I’m sorry🥺School’s kind of dragging me behind with literally everything I enjoy doing;( Learning is important, but I miss the days I can just go anywhere and do anything whenever I wanted to😩 I didn't expect this to be turned into a series... But I guess it is? I hope you guys enjoy reading this!

---

Life wasn't fair. 

You learned this way to young. Your mother hated you, specifically because her own life was ruined in the result of your birth. Your father was selfish and ignorant; an arsehole. Weird enough, you couldn't bring yourself to blame either of them. Your mom was a poor victim of society, and your father was a victim to his father. Not enough reason to abandon a child, but the world you lived in taught you things that most people learn in their thirties. When they got divorced, you were handed to your grandmother. When she died, you were handed to your aunt. Handed, like an object. Like a hot potato, keep being passed on and on until the music stopped playing. When you realized that you can decide when to stop your music, you didn't linger longer. You were around thirteen when you first tried to escape from your aunt. 

It was freezing that night. The night was so, so cold. Everything moved slowly, but you kept walking. You didn't have much on you, and you weren't sure what you needed to do now. You were lost. You thought walking might lead you to somewhere. Anywhere. It was devastating. London was huge. Even so, not a single place in this city had a room for you. You once saw the news on the tv inside a store use the word 'overpopulation,' and how the world was so crowded. You wondered if that is why there wasn't any place for you. 

'God created everyone for a reason, there is a place for everyone in this world.' 

Your grandmother was very forgetful. She sometimes forgot that its morning and tried to put you back into bed. Or wake you up in the middle of the night thinking its morning. She sometimes forgot how to use the bathroom. She sometimes thought she was in someplace else and kept screaming. The rare amount of times when she wasn't, she always told you that God created everyone for a reason, and there is a place for everyone in this world. You never took her word for it, but you truly wished for it to be true at this moment. If it was true, now was the time to prove it.

The bookshop across the street was the only place that had lights on. Every other store on the street was closed. You could've gone over to a cafe that was a few blocks away, but you didn't. It was as if you were possessed by something. You were like the little girl that sold matches and the bookshop was what lit up at your sight. That should be the place. That had to be the place. You entered the bookshop and a gentleman with golden hair came out. 

"Hello, I'm afraid we are quite definitely clo- oh, dear. Are you all right?" 

"I-I'm sorry. The lights were on and I - Ah, achoo!" 

"No, it's not a problem. Please, you can sit here." 

The man offered you a sit on a chair. Honestly, you didn't know what else you could do but to sit. There was nowhere else for you to go. Nowhere else for you sit. This was at least somewhere. 

"Tell me, my child. Where are your parents?" 

You hesitated. If you tell him the truth, will he let you stay? Will he care? He might call the police. What will happen to you then?

You were foolish. You thought escaping would help, only to lead you nowhere but to leave you to freeze to death. 

"Do you have nowhere to go?"

He asked softly. Soft enough to get an unwanted child talking.  No matter how high your walls were, that was all it took to collapse. But you knew this. You tried to avoid a direct answer, still, you couldn't resist the tears that formed in your eyes. 

You expected more questioning from him, but he asked you none. Instead, he let you stay in the store for the night. The next morning, he made you promise to come back. 

"Angels will watch over you," he said. 

You didn't say anything back. Not a typical phrase you think you'd hear from a stranger. What a weird man, you thought. But then you came back because you were desperate. And every time he welcomed you with a warm heart. He seemed glad to see you again. You talked, he listened. He helped you, he took care of you. 

"What is your name, my dear?" 

"Y/N," you didn't say your last name on purpose. You didn't like it. Those people weren't even your family. 

"It is a pleasure to meet you, Y/N. I'm Aziraphale." 

Aziraphale. You saw the name before. Yes, you saw it and not heard it. In the bible. In the dirty, old, dark room you and your grandmother lived, she kept a bible. She'd sometimes read it out loud to you. You were too hungry to care. However, to your curiosity, you had opened it before. 

Not long after you met Aziraphale, you met Crowley. You were terrified of him at first. You swore you saw him yelling at plants once. 

Then one day, Crowley came to your school to see the Christmas play you starred in. You have been working on it for months, and although you weren't the main character, you enjoyed playing your role. You didn't even bother to tell your aunt about it. Instead, you asked Aziraphale if he could come and watch. He said yes, of course. Sadly, on the day of your play, a very important customer to Aziraphale came to the bookshop. Having to deal with him, Aziaraphale couldn't make it to your play. Not knowing that, you waited for him to enter through the door. Your eyes searched among the crowds, but he was nowhere to be seen. Nowhere.

More parents entered, each time waving at their kid on the stage. Some held flowers, probably to give them afterward. 

"Uh, my mum is holding a camera," Harry, who stood beside you, grumbled at the sight. 

"What's wrong with a camera?" You asked. You couldn't understand. What was wrong with a mum trying to savior a memory of her child?

"It is embarrassing. She'll show it to everyone at the Christmas dinner," Harry stated annoyingly. Almost like asking for sympathy. As if you are supposed to feel the same way. As if you too, had such a caring mother who would come to watch your play and record it for showing off purposes. 

"Where is your mum?" Harry asked. It is these simple questions that hurt you the most. All of the assumptions, all of the conditions to be defined as a normal kid. What you hated, even more, is yourself wishing for your mother to enter from that door any moment now, and apologize. 

"I-" You hear a large creek when you opened your mouth to answer. The door swung opened and entered a very familiar-looking person. Crowley.  

Besides the dramatic entrance, he was a very unlike figure to be seen at a school play.  Flaming red hair, wearing entirely black with usual sunglasses; his posture, in general, had a weird aurora. Parents stared at him with questioning eyes and so did you. You queried why he was there, he didn't appear like a parent. He marched over to you, one hand in his pocket, the other holding a large bouquet.

"I am not late, am I?" Crowley said as he looked around the room, "Is the play already over?" 

"No," you took a moment before answering him. You were confused. "It hasn't even started yet. Where is Azi?" 

"Aziraphale couldn't make it, had an important customer to deal with. Wanted me to tell you how sorry he was." 

Disappointed look spread on your face. It wasn't his fault, you knew that. Though, that didn't stop you from being upset. You'll just leave as fast as you can after the play. Your friends will want to take pictures with you but... Well, you didn't have anyone to take the photo for you. If you leave fast enough, you'll be able to avoid all the questions. 

"Don't be so gloomy about it. I'm here."

You looked up at Crowley with unbelieving eyes. "You are not going to leave?"

"What? No. Why do you think I came here in the first place?"

Your teacher announced that the play was starting soon, and Crowley went to find a seat. When he did found a sit, he took his phone out. You expected him to be on his phone instead of focusing on your play, but to your surprise, his camera lens landed on you. Later, himself joined other crowds of parents who scooched in the front row as quietly as possible trying to get the best shot of their children. 

When the play ended, he whistled loudly. It was the loudest whistle you've ever heard in your life. He had a bright smile onㅡalmost grinningㅡand you've never seen him smile so widely. A proud smile. A kind of smile you've never gotten it before. You ran down the stairs after the final bow, towards Crowley and you hugged him tightly. He seemed stunned by your sudden action since you always hid behind Aziraphale whenever you saw him, but he patted on your shoulder in return. 

"This is for you, by the way," he said, handing you the bouquet. Your smile widened at it. The flowers were beautiful. 

Your friends ran over to you, wanting to take pictures with you. Their parents followed with their cameras. You looked up nervously at Crowley, but he was already taking his phone out. When all the picture fiasco was done, he took your hand and led you out to his car. 

"I know my way home. I can walk home," you said but then hopped onto his car. 

"Aziraphale is treating us dinner," Crowley answered fastening your seatbelt. 

"Really?" Your face lightened up in excitement. A family dinner. Something you've never experienced before. 

"Yes. Do you know your aunt's number? I'll call her," he handed you his phone from the driver's seat. 

"I do, but I don't think you need to. Don't worry, she won't care," you didn't take his phone, knowing that she wouldn't care either way. She didn't the day you ran out of the house. She didn't when you came back, so why would she start caring now? 

However, Crowley looked rather disturbed. He didn't say anything, and with his sunglasses, it was almost impossible to read him. You were greeted with Aziraphale when you arrived. 

"Oh, hello, my dear. I deeply apologize for not being able to-" 

"It's okay. Look! Crowley gave me flowers!" 

"They look wonderful," he smiled at you softly before turning to Crowley. His face expression changed quickly and his voice deepened in a serious tone. "Did you film her as I asked you to?"

"Yes, yes. I did. Now come on, she must be starving." 

After this day, you considered Crowley as your family along with Aziraphale. 

You promised to yourself every single day, that one day, you'll give it all back to them. All the kindness they showed, all the things they gave you. You'll pay them back. 

You never thought that your existence would endanger them, or that their existence would endanger you.