#Tess black come back challenge

[mermaidgirl30]

✨Fortnight✨

Joel Miller x fem! reader

Series Masterlist Part 2

A/N: This one shot was inspired by Taylor Swift’s song “Fortnight” and is written for @morallyinept Jett’s Flora & Fauna Challenge. I had so much fun with this one and was feeling all the angst! Thank you to @mountainsandmayhem for helping me make the mood board and for beta reading and for letting me talk your ear off about this one 🥰 Joel’s POV actually made me cry writing this 🥹

Summary: Moving on is hard, especially when the man you fell in love with moved in across the street from you with his new lover.

Word Count: 4.6k

Rating: 18+ Only

Tags: Lots of angst, feelings, pining, heartbreak, alcohol use, allusions to smut, tears, pov in both reader and Joel’s view, no use y/n

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

The orange and yellow sunrise paints the sky bright colors as you stand in your little kitchen sipping a warm cup of black coffee. The bland taste mixes with your salty mood as your eyes lock on your neighbor across the street, Tess. 

   Every morning she’s out there bright and early, watering her white lilies with a metal watering can as she hums along with the chirping robins that sit along her fence line. It makes your fingers flex into tight fists, makes your brows furrow up, makes your mouth clench into a deep frown as you watch with heartache written all over your pathetic face. Sometimes you wish she was dead, just like your aching heart is. Cold, lost, broken. But you shouldn’t be mad, shouldn’t wish her dead. She’s nice, always smiling, something you wish you would do more often. 

   You don’t hate her, not exactly. You hate that she’s Joel’s. You hate the way he comes up behind her and hugs his broad arms around her waist as he kisses her neck, her cheek, her lips. You hate the way he dances with her in the dimly lit kitchen at night as you watch them through their open window while you stand frozen in place in your own empty kitchen. You hate the way he kisses her every single morning before she drives off to work in her flashy sports car. And you hate the way they’re engaged to be married in the fall, something that should’ve belonged to you. 

   You should be with Joel, you should be dancing in the moonlight of his kitchen, you should be the one watering flowers with him hanging around your waist and littering your skin with kisses, you should be the one walking down that aisle. But you’re not, and you never will. Joel was in the past. An old lover from years ago. You had broken up so long ago, so why did you still love him? You weren’t his anymore. Joel belongs to Tess now. The girl you would never be. 

   One month. It’s been exactly a month since they moved across the street, across from you. You remember it so clearly how it felt seeing him after all those years, like you were trapped in a glass bottle with nowhere to run. He was more built now, his biceps clinging to his flannels as his tan skin glistened in the sunlight. His hair was longer now with grey threading through his curly strands, and his beard was salt-and-pepper filled. He looked so… handsome. But then you saw her slipping out of the moving van as he laughed and helped her pull a large picture frame out of the back. You were frozen in place, the glass of milk spilling out of your hand and shattering on the floor as you stared in horror at your new neighbors. You spent the next few hours soaking in the tub with a glass of whiskey, the same brand that was Joel’s favorite. You love him, you still love him, and it’s ruining your life. 

   Now you just stand in the empty kitchen every morning with glossy eyes and watch them. The way they kiss, talk tenderly, and graze each other’s hands as they say their long goodbyes. It makes you so sick, especially after just finding out your long term boyfriend cheated on you with his secretary. So now you’re going through a messy breakup, one where he keeps showing up at the house randomly trying to get you to take him back. Just another lost love that wasn’t meant to be. Maybe you weren’t meant to be with anyone, destined to be lonely. At least that’s what it feels like while you stare in horror at the happy couple who yearns for one another.

   When you finish your black coffee and rinse out the tinted mug, you watch Joel grab the back of Tess’s head and pull her in for a long, gentle kiss. You watch the way he leans into it, smiling against her lips as she laughs and tells him she’s going to be late to work. He just brushes it off and waves her off, blowing her a kiss as he watches her drive off into the early sunrise. It makes you sick to death. 

   You turn and rush up the stairs, feeling a warm teardrop slip down your cheek as you get ready for the day. You really shouldn’t dwell on their relationship, but you can’t help it, and that makes you want to die.

   Before you head out, you walk down the paved driveway to go grab the mail from your brick mailbox, already dreading the day as rain clouds fill the sticky air. When you go to pull open the mailbox door, it doesn’t budge. You pull and pull, tugging with all your might until the door finally opens. You lose your balance and all your mail goes sprawling across the street as you fall hard on your hands and knees.

   “Shit,” you mutter under your breath as you feel hot tears prick the back of your eyes. Just when you’re  pushing yourself off the ground, you see someone out of the corner of your eye swoop down and pick up the mail that litters the ground. 

   “Oh, no. You don’t have to help me, I’m…” Your breath hitches when you stand up and see Joel holding out your mail to you, his eyes lathered with concern as you see brown doe eyes stare down at you calmly. 

   “You alright?” he asks carefully as his eyebrows knit together in a tight line. 

   “I’m… I’m fine,” you stutter out as you reach to grab the packaged letters. You jump back as his calloused fingers brush against yours, feeling the electricity fire through your veins as you see him react the same way. 

   “You sure?” One thick eyebrow cocks up as he stands tall before you, his body hovering too close as you smell the scent of fresh wood and pine needles. A scent you used to smell every single night while you were in his bed, cuddled up to him in the dead of night. Now, all you smell is regret and sadness mixed together in an empty bed with no one to hold you. 

   You clench your jaw and try to be brave as you feel a wet teardrop escape over your lash line and slide down your face. “Mhm, I’m fine,” you barely get out as you look blankly at the cracked concrete and scuff your heel into the hard ground. 

   “You don’t look fine. Is everythin’… do you wanna talk?” he asks as he slowly reaches a hand out, dropping it before he touches your skin as he realizes he shouldn’t do that. That’s too much, too risky, too sacred. 

   You look up at him behind your thick eyelashes as another shimmery tear rolls down your wide eyes. “Everything is not fine, but no. I don’t want to talk. I shouldn’t even be here. I’m sorry for bothering you, you didn’t need to help me,” you sniffle out. You start to turn away from him, but then you feel a large hand clamp down on your wrist, preventing you from moving away. 

   “Hey, look at me,” he murmurs as you slowly turn and blink up at him, your eyes glazing over as you see the hurt coat his beautiful face. “Why are you cryin’, is it… that guy that keeps droppin’ by your doorstep?” he asks cautiously as you flinch at the topic. You swear you hear a hint of jealousy when he says that guy. 

   You shake your head and pull out of his grip as his fingertips imprint your skin in hot, searing heat. “No, not necessarily…” you mumble as you cross your arms over your chest, trying to get out of this uncomfortable small talk. Why couldn’t he just ask you about the weather like a normal guy would? But Joel Miller was no normal guy. No. He was… special.

   “He hurt you?” His eyes are cold, narrowed like he actually cares what happens to you. You don’t know why. He shouldn’t even pay attention to you. You’re not Tess, you're not his to care about anymore. 

   “He… cheated on me. He won’t stop calling or coming over, even though I tell him to stop. He’s adamant I listen to him. Says it was an accident and that she put the first moves on him, and just a bunch of bullshit answers.”

   He’s quiet for a moment as he assesses you, careful with his words as he starts again. “Have you tried hearin’ him out? Maybe he…”

   “I don’t want HIM!” you scream as you feel your face burn hot as your eyes start to water. Your red stained lips quiver under the grey clouds that weigh you down to the ground, and you feel like you just said something you shouldn’t have to him.

   Joel takes a hesitant step back as his brown eyes grow wide, his fingers flexing against his dark jeans as you see pain reflecting in his eyes, a mere image of yourself that’s broken, bleeding, hollow, lonely. You’re so terribly alone, and you wish he could comfort you. You really do, but he can’t. He’s not yours. Even though you so badly wish he still was. 

   Your wide-eyed gaze threatens to take you under as you feel regret slipping from your tongue. Why did you make such a big commotion? Why did you say you didn’t want him in that way? Fuck. You start to back up and laugh to yourself. “Sorry, I need to go.”

   Just before you can make it your lawn, Joel calls your name quietly. His tone makes you turn on the spot and stare at him with the way his deep bravado voice carries through the nearly spring wind. His eyes are pensive, sad, wrecked. His jaw clenches as he shoves his hands deep in his pockets. He looks like he wants to say something, looks like he wants to spill years of held in thoughts as his jaw ticks back and forth. 

   “Look, I know I never got a chance to apologize about what happened.” He walks toward you, and you take a step back as you shake your head, knowing what he’s about to say. 

   “Joel, no. Stop, you…”

   “Jus’ hear me out a second. Please.” He looks at you with big, begging brown eyes, and he looks like a wounded puppy with the way he’s staring down at you all broken and hurting, mirroring exactly how you feel. You think he might be just as hurt about it as you still are. 

   “Okay,” you mumble out as you stand your ground. 

   “‘M sorry about how everythin’ went down. ‘M sorry for bein’ such an ass to you, about all the stupid fights we had, about everythin’ we ever went through. And I’m so fuckin’ sorry for runnin’ out on you that cold February night. I didn’t… I wasn’t thinkin’ and…”

   You hold out a hand and stop him right there as you shake your head. “Joel, we were young and dumb. I was the one that told you to leave. You didn’t really have to, but I never went after you, and you never came back. I thought it was over, that we were over. And clearly we were because neither of us fought to keep the other…”

   You feel tears lick the backs of your eyes as you bite your bottom lip and wipe your waterline of any tears that might be escaping. 

   “I… I would’ve. Trust me, there’s not a day… there wasn’t a day that I didn’t think about doin’ what I did differently. And maybe… maybe things would’ve been different. Ya know? Maybe we’d still be…” He rakes a hand slowly down his greying scruff and sighs as he shakes his head. “Fuck. This is… harder than I thought it was gonna be…”

   “Joel…” You place a hand slowly over his wrist and watch his brown eyes go from clear to a cloud of haze. “I know you’re marrying Tess. She told me the other day when I saw her watering her lilies. She sounded so excited, so in love,” you cringe as you drop his wrist and take a hesitant step back. 

   “Oh, she told you?” he asks sheepishly, a bit taken back in a sense. 

   “Yeah, she did.”

   “I see.”

   You both stand there staring at one another, eyes alight with sparks of sadness and regret, turmoil that bleeds all over the heated concrete as you face each other. Both standing on a battleground where no one even lifts a finger. It’s just pleading cries and vacant apologies left in the back of the mind. A hollow graveyard that once was a flowering rose garden. 

   You feel like you should go, should get in your little Toyota and drive away, but you’re so lost and you feel like the world has left you behind. There’s just one more thing that needs to be said, one more bottled up sentiment that you need to get off your chest. So you look him straight in the eyes and say it, taking your very last breath as you bleed out all over his front yard. 

   “Look, Joel. I’m so happy you’ve found someone that makes you smile, someone that you’re clearly so in love with. I see the way you look at her. You’re so happy. And I’m so… I’m so…” You choke on your last words as tears fill the brims of your eyes, and you wipe a falling tear away with the sleeve of your shirt.

   “I’m so… happy that you get to marry the love of your life. You deserve it, you deserve all the happiness in the world. And I…” 

   Joel grabs ahold of your forearms and squeezes, looking at you with deep chocolate eyes that swallow you whole as soon as you look up into those brown pits of warmth. You feel it then, the absolute wretched wave that crashes over your body as you feel his warm fingertips tattoo themselves onto your skin. You feel it, the memories washing over you as they swim freely in your head. You remember taking a trip to Florida in his new truck, remember laying in the sand while he grazed his calloused fingers down your sandy skin and told you he loved you for the first time, remember how it felt to be under his body as you writhed and moaned with every touch he stole from you, remember how deeply in love the two of you were, if only for a fortnight. It was the happiest you’ve ever been with someone, the happiest you’ve ever been. Even if it only lasted for a second. He was your favorite season, favorite breath, favorite fortnight. Your forever that you wish would’ve lasted longer. But it was over. This was over. 

   You start to break down then, pulling out of his heated grasp as his fingertips fall from your skin. It’s too much, this is too much. You shouldn’t be here. Not with him, alone. It hurts too much, like a bloody wound that’ll never mend itself back together. The tears start pouring, ruining your mascara as you feel the rain come down slowly over your crimson cheeks. 

   “I… need to go.” When you turn back toward your driveway, Joel calls your name softly, like he’s afraid to speak your name, like he’s being fragile with a dying flower. You stand there a minute before turning back around, your nails embedding marks into your scraped up palms as you clench your jaw and turn, feeling another warm splash drop against your skin. 

   He looks so sad, so conflicted as he stares at you with knit together eyebrows, his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his denim jeans as you see him slide his tongue slowly over his bottom teeth. He looks likes he’s struggling as much as you, maybe holding things back just like you are. Like the way you still love him. But it’s too late. You’re too late. 

   “He didn’t deserve you, you know. You deserve someone… someone that’ll make you happy. You deserve the world. And I hope you find it. You’re, well… you’re special. And I hate to see ya cry. ‘M sorry if I was the one who did that to you. And if you ever… if you ever need… ahh fuck. Jus’… take care of yourself, will ya?”

   You watch his fingers flex in his pocket, like he wants to reach out, maybe pull you in his arms, tell you everything will be alright in the end, but it won’t, it never will. He’s getting married to Tess, not you. You need to move on, for your own good. 

   You bite your bottom lip and nod as another sniffle leaves your constricted throat. You feel another warm splash on your arm as you give him a tight smile and turn back to your empty house, a house full of bottled up pain and regret. “Thanks, Joel. B… bye,” you choke out as you walk shamefully back to your front porch, letting the door close with a bang as you slide down the back of the door and end in a muddled ball on the floor. 

   You let the tears flow, let them burn the backs of your eyes as you feel hot air blow through your mouth. You weren’t supposed to talk to him, weren’t even supposed to let him touch your skin, even if it was just your wrist, your arm, your heart. It’s not supposed to hurt this bad, losing him all over again, but here you are. A ruined mess curled up on the wooden floor. He was your fortnight, your favorite part of every day until he was gone. Just like now. A wilted rose petal that died years ago. 

   He watches you turn back toward your half wilted rose covered yard, feeling the sting of tears he holds onto as he clenches his jaw and rakes a hand slowly down his greying scruff. He hates seeing you cry, hates being the reason for it, and hates the way he wants to run across your yard and pull you into his waiting arms. He wants so badly to take away the pain, but he can’t, he shouldn’t. It wouldn’t be right. But nothing is quite right in his mind anymore. No. Not in the slightest.

   He still thinks about you, the way he used to tangle his fingers in your hair as you fell asleep in his lap so many times before. He thinks about the way your soft skin felt every time he grazed his calloused fingers down your arms, your thighs, your dripping center as he’d make endless love to you night after night. He remembers it all, the good and the bad. But mostly he remembers the way he told you how deeply he was in love with you that night in Florida, promising you forever as he pulled you in for a bittersweet kiss that would be the start of the end. 

   He remembers it all. The stupid fights that meant nothing, the way he was so careless with your feelings that night of the fight, the way he walked out in the pouring rain and never looked back, the way he left you brokenhearted, just like you are now as he watches you fade back into the house as you rub your tear soaked eyes. And it kills him, it kills him that a small part of him still loves you. He still loves you…

   How can a person love two people at the same time? He doesn’t know why or how, but he does. He still loves you.. and he hates it, he fucking hates it. 

   He still thinks about you, even when he’s holding Tess against his chest late at night in their bed, even when he brushes his lips against her creased forehead, even when she says quick I love you’s to him every morning before she heads off to work. He wonders what it’d be like to hear it from your lips, on your tongue. He thinks about it so fucking much that he dreams about you, night after night. And if that makes him a bad man then fuck it, he’s already a very bad man.

   He may seem happy on the outside, absolutely head over heels for Tess, which he is. But also, he isn’t because that other half of himself is devoted to you. But he’s marrying Tess, not you. So he drinks, downs the whiskey night after night as he suffers from his own stupid past mistakes. A functioning alcoholic that’s drunk off heartbreak and pining that can never be. He’s royally and thoroughly fucked beyond his wreckless decisions. 

   He watches you every day leaving your house, climbing into your small Toyota, alone, frowning, lonely. He sees how sad you look when you catch his eyes, sees the tears well in your glistening gaze. He knows you probably must be so miserable living across from him, he sees it in the way you carry your shoulders, all hunched and wilting as your beautiful eyes gloss over every single fucking time he looks at you. He knows because that’s how he feels every time he sees you through your kitchen window, staring in a blank daze as he caresses Tess’s cheek and leaves trails of kisses up her soft skin. He knows how you feel. Because believe it or not, he’s just as miserable as you are. 

   When he finally sees you stumble through the front door and shut firmly it behind you, he lets a single tear fall like rain against his cheek, releasing his pent up frustration and held back feelings like the drops of whiskey he suffocates on night after night. And like the slow rush of February, he lets his feelings flow in the wind, dwindling down the quiet street as your silent cries fade into black. You were only a fraction of a moment, a sweet speck of sunshine that lit up his life, and now it was just a memory blown away by the endless February breeze. 

   He tries everything in his power not to run across the dew covered grass and stumble up to your porch, bang his rough knuckles against your glass door till you open up and let him over the threshold. He wants so fucking badly to wrap you in his arms, tell you everything’s going to be okay, scrape his lips across your tear soaked eyes as he kisses away the tears that he caused. But he can’t. He just fucking can’t. 

   He knows you’re on the floor, knows you’re crying your eyes out because of him. He shouldn’t have even helped you with your fallen mail, shouldn’t have placed his calloused and tainted fingers on your delicate and innocent skin, because that just brought back vivid images of you and him together. Imagines that are burned inside his memory as he locks them tightly away. A part of his mind that’s completely blocked off from Tess because she doesn’t know he still loves you. But it’s too late. He can’t have both; he can only have one. 

   So when he walks down that aisle, he’ll fully devote himself to Tess. No more silhouettes of you in his imagination, at least not when she’s in the room. He still imagines the thought of you walking down that aisle, can already see how stunning you’d look in your long satin dress, envisions you throwing your arms around his neck as he says “I do” and kisses you endlessly for the rest of his godforsaken life.

   It was always you he thinks, but time was not on his side, and he couldn’t go back to the past. He’d have to choose between the two of you, and he couldn’t imagine the thought of breaking Tess’s heart. Can’t bear the thought of losing her, but then there’s you. The girl that was once the love of his life, that’s still the love of his life. But he can’t have two loves, that’s not how it works in this life. 

So he drowns in his tears, goes back inside as he pours a half glass of amber whiskey, drinks it down like it’ll be his saving grace. You were only a fortnight in his tragic life, but you were the best one. His favorite fortnight. So he’ll pine, burn through the ashes of all his mistakes. He loves you, and it’ll surely ruin his life in the end.

He chases the whiskey down as he feels it burn like hot lava down his throat, letting the alcohol drive his sins away as he stares at your empty kitchen window. You still haven’t left for the morning, haven’t driven off into the glowing sunrise even though it’s half past 8:00.

He hates that he knows your routine, knows it’s fucked that he watches you every single morning. It’s like clockwork the way he reaches for the whiskey bottle as soon as Tess leaves, while he stands in his empty kitchen watching you. He’s such a bad man, but he’s known this ever since he found out it was you that lived across the street from him. That’s when all the feelings came flooding back like a torrential downpour, and that’s why he picked up his awful drinking habit again. Now he takes a shot every single time he sees you, like that’ll help a damn thing, but it never does, it only makes the feelings worse.

After thirty minutes of silence from your window, he takes one last gulp of the toxic amber drink and slides the bottle away, feeling the taste of regret and remorse on the tip of his tongue. He knows you’re on that floor unable to get up, probably staining the hardwood from your tears. He clenches his jaw, embeds his calloused fingertips into the rustic counter and curses to himself under his breath. He needs to fix what he did, needs to put his racing thoughts to bed, so he moves like lightning towards the front door, dragging his sorrows and regrets with him as his boots scuff against the tiles of the front entryway.

He doesn’t have time to process it, doesn’t have a chance to think it through, he just moves quickly. He sprints across your yard, passing half dead rose bushes that he should’ve kept alive. Now they just look like he feels, dead and wilting, both things willing to crumble under his touch.

Now he’s standing on your front porch, the burn of alcohol edging him on as he raises his balled up fist over the silhouette of your door. He doesn’t have time to think, to act, he just has to do something, anything to get you out of his drowning mind. So he stands there burning in the flames of past mistakes and fortnights.

Before his hand can move an inch, he smells it. The morning breeze carrying a whiff of fragrant, lush lilies across his burning nostrils that cloud his foggy mind. The scent of Tess. But he also smells the fragrance of wilting red roses and dewy, clipped grass. The smell of you. Both scents swirl together as he grits his teeth and lets the pain of mixed scents numb his racing mind. He’s fucked, ruined now, but he can’t have both. He has to make a choice. It's either soft lilies or scented rose petals. And goddamn it, he wants both flowers. But he can’t pick both, he just can’t. He has to make a decision. One that’ll surely be the end of him. He loses either way he chooses.

Tagging some mutuals 🩵 @msjarvis @littlevenicebitch69 @sawymredfox @bbyanarchist @keylimebeag

@casa-boiardi @vivian-pascal @amyispxnk @laurrrra @rav3n-pascal22 @magpiepills

@604to647

[radioactivepeasant]

Chaos Wednesday (doesn't normally happen): Demon Slayer Baby au!

Two back to back snippets: how DJ got his nickname, and how Damas caused A Misunderstanding (long post, be forewarned)

Nickname

"Daxter!!"

Tess brightened, flinging her arms open.

"Angel!"

Daxter leaped up onto the bed, careful to avoid the stack of pillows Tess was using to prop up her swollen ankle.

"How's my best gal doing?"

Tess fell back against the headboard with a groan. "Booooooored. Nobody can get out to check Dead Town for old medpacks, so I'm stuck in here for now. I hope Krew isn't being too hard on you!"

Daxter scoffed. "Pssh. Me? Never. He finally appreciates my skill in drink mixing."

A snort of derision from just below the bed contradicted this. Tess noted the pitch of the voice and raised her brows.

"No fights on the way here to get the eco out?"

Daxter cuddled up next to her and shrugged. "I think he just wanted to feel safe, actually. He's getting better at transforming at will!"

Tess smiled and patted the bed. "Hey goober! Come on up!"

Little black claws appeared at the edge of the blanket and scrambled for purchase. Tess didn't really understand why he didn't just adjust his height -- he had full control over the proportions of his limbs like this. But she didn't mention it. Jak was so much happier in this state, acting more like Daxter said he did before they came to Haven. Tess may not have had a full picture of what was going on in that prison when Daxter rescued Jak, but she knew what complex trauma looked like. If it made Jak feel happier, feel safer to be some kind of little goblin, then who was Tess to stop him?

"C'mere, kiddo." Tess reached over to help him up.

With a little gasp of triumph, Jak scooted up over the edge and flung his arms up in a victory pose. His sleeves, sized for a teenaged boy of regular size, unrolled themselves with the motion and flopped over his hands. The travel-sized dark warrior shook them in annoyance, sending them flapping back and forth.

"Awww, come here you cutie!"

Tess scooped him up and danced her fingers over his sides.

"Tickle tickle tickle!"

Jak hissed, but his ear to ear grin gave him away as he batted at Tess’s hands.

"Weirdo sis!" he signed with a snort. "Daxter help!"

"Look bud, she was gonna go after one of us. You gotta take one for the team," Daxter said. "I just got this fur combed flat."

"Who's my favorite murderbuddy? Dee-Jaaaay! DJ's my favorite murderbuddy!" Tess sang, scrubbing her knuckles across the hissing eco being's scalp.

Daxter scratched his nose and frowned. "Huh? DJ?"

"Yeah!" Tess grinned at him. "Dark-eco Jak! DJ! Get it?"

The ottsel looked over at Jak, who was clearly enjoying being fussed over for a change.

"DJ...huh. Whaddya think of that, pal?"

"Yop!"

A soft look overtook Daxter. He reached out to muss Jak's hair. "Alright, DJ it is."

"Yee!" The newly nicknamed DJ flailed his arms even faster in excitement. The sleeves smacked Tess and Daxter in the face. It was absolutely on purpose.

He didn't know why everything was more fun at this size -- was it because there were more things to climb on? Because fights were more of a challenge? Because people were nicer to him? -- but he loved how wild and big all the eco -- and even all his feelings were. Most of the time.

He didn't like Big Sad and Big Scared. He had to go back to tall DJ during those feelings to get them under control. Or let Sig carry him around, but sometimes that was embarrassing.

"Torn is going to come back here before long," Tess warned the boys, "So if you didn't want to do some work today you'll have to make yourself scarce."

DJ began to snicker and pulled his scarf over his head like he was hiding before flailing his arm out from underneath. Daxter cackled, knowing immediately what Jak was suggesting.

"No, bud, I don't think Tattooed Wonder would appreciate it if you hid under the bed and grabbed his ankle when he walked by. It would be funny though."

"Nooo that's so mean!" Tess giggled.

DJ kicked his arms and legs up in the air, made a croaking screech, acting out what he thought Torn's reaction would be before collapsing into giggles as well.

"You're a menace, DJ," Tess cooed, scratching the base of Jak's horn nubs.

"Why yes," DJ signed, "Yes I am."

Damas Causes Problems (on purpose)

"No leads on Mar yet."

Sig slouched in the corner booth, eyeing the empty bar as he spoke quietly into his talk-box. "Been trying to work out why Jak does the...the thing. Why he looks like a desaturated Mar when he does it. All I got is that Praxis picked up a hu'men experimentation hobby."

"I wish I could say that didn't sound like a logical progression of his depravity," Damas hissed on the other end of the line. "Do you...know which form is Jak’s natural one?"

Sig knew what Damas was thinking. He'd wondered it himself. Was Jak made in Praxis's lab? Was the tiny child resembling Mar his truest form and the young teenager a disguise to protect him?

But to the best of his knowledge, it was the other way around.

"The taller one -- with- with Mar's kinda hair -- that's his base shape. He's still learning how to control the dark stuff. That's why he gets stuck in Baby Mode as often as he does. Used to make him real mad, now he just thinks it's funny. But while we're on the subject...I have a request. I know you don't want to get involved in the civil war beyond runnin' guns, but-"

"Spit it out, Sig."

Sig rubbed the skin under his prosthetic eye and groaned.

"I'm scared for Jak, man. Every time I see him, he's weaker. Kid’s about to drop over the edge of exhaustion and he keeps trudging on because he says "they" told him to. And I'm pretty sure he's talkin' about the Underground. Now, I know it's off agenda, but- I wanna follow him back. Find out whose trying to work him to death and straighten em out."

He could almost see the shrug as Damas answered.

"Why're you asking me? He's your kid."

Something warm fluttered in Sig’s stomach and he grinned despite himself. "Yeah. He kinda is at this point, isn't he?"

The line was quiet for a few seconds. Time enough for sounds to begin emanating from the street. Then,

"When you find Mar-"

When. Not if. As if his success wasn't even in question, even after two years.

"When you bring him home, bring Jak, too. I want to meet this kid -- in person, this time."

"You think I'd let him and Daxter stay here?" Sig scoffed.

Just then, the door swung open, bringing with it the ottsel's familiar voice.

"I'm tellin' you, sweetheart, it's all about the pine-pears. Slice em, grill em, put em on the steak. I guarantee even Hoverboy will love it."

Tess walked in with the boys -- Sig didn't blame them for walking together. This wasn't the nicest neighborhood even without the KG -- and she giggled.

"Daxxie, I've never even had pine-pear. How am I supposed to convince Krew to put something on the menu if we can't get any?"

Jak looked worse than before. The circles beneath his eyes were deep and purple, and he looked dehydrated. Daxter perked up from his shoulders to glance in Sig’s direction.

Crap. He loved the boys, but they weren't ready to know about Spargus yet.

"Hey, shift's gonna be starting soon, hon. Imma have to call you back."

"I beg your pardon!?"

Damas sputtered, not sure whether to be offended or amused. After a beat, in which he must've heard the other voices, he sounded calmer. "Ah. You have company. Carry on."

"Yeah yeah yeah. No, I'll remember. Don't worry about it," Sig said quickly, and a little louder than necessary. "Milk, eggs, paper towels. You need me to grab anything else when I clock out?"

Jak stopped next to his table and cocked his head with a soft frown.

"Who you talkin' to?" he asked.

With a sardonic lilt, Damas’s voice grated in his ear.

"Oh, is that my "stepson"? Tell him to take a nap."

"Tell him yourself!"

"Sure. Watch your ears."

And before he had time to brace himself, Sig had his ears ringing as Damas raised his voice and loudly called,

"Hey kid! Be good for your old man today. Take a nap when he tells you to this time."

Sig flushed scarlet from the tip of his ears to his neck when he heard the usually stoic king burst into uncontrolled cackling.

"I am going to get him for this," Sig muttered as Jak’s face twisted in confusion.

"Who the heck is that?"

"A menace, that's who," Sig growled. "Ignore him."

Jak, unfortunately, did not.

[silverjetsystm]

The joint of her clicking finger is pink from overuse: her jaw is clenches as she glowers furiously at Marc from behind her cell phone. Boop! Boop! Boop!

"One of us is going to die today, Spector--" Tess bares her teeth in a snarl -"and it ain't gonna be me!"

Let the record show. Mr. Grant did start this; calmly, leaning back in the chair, feet on the desk, thumb tapping the black and skeleton cat paw icon.

As Tess upped her pace, Grant's own competitive nature was bolstered by Spector. Between their left pointer finger making a sticking sound like it wanted to pop and Spector's single-mindedness, Grant stepped back.

Here they are. Two challengers locked into a fight for the ages. Spector's white Oxfords flat on the ground, fingerless sap gloves still except for the punching thumb. Occasional bouts of growling radiate from throat and clenched mouth.

"Try it, McKay. I'll come back, business as usual." Left hand curled, bothered finger against white leather palm. Thumb pressed against the proximal phalange. Crack.

[td-frog]

thoughts on dcas e8:

the challenge

tbh i thought this was one of the weaker challenges they've had so far. the 1v1v1 at the end was an interesting twist, although it kind of felt like it didn't live up to the potential? like obv it'll adds to the love triangle drama but it was literally "build a ladder. go up the ladder."

idk overall it was fine it just felt like less of a challenge and more of a setting for the characters to interact in.

magenta team

jake and ally fighting like kids is really funny to me. like it makes sense given jake's abandonment issues flaring up re:ashley but he's really being sooo hostile out of nowhere.

yellow team

i'm so glad the yulgrett plot is progressing. this man is so stupid. literally grett is the only thing standing between him and elimination since alec and riya so clearly hate his guts, and yet.

aside from that i really like alec's two confessionals about fiore and yul- i like that he acknowledged not wanting / expecting fiore out, and that he pointed out yul being a shitty boyfriend. like we know he was a shitty husband but he still has standards.

cyan team

so tom's boyfriend is 100% fake.

also i called it on ellie leaving. i have mixed feelings about gabby- on the one hand i like that she's maybe getting more to do now and it does line up with her previously established character, but the black-and-white friend-or-enemy thinking was something i never really liked about her in s1.

also i get that it's important for keeping the villain's alliance relevant given that they're all so dysfunctional, but i don't love this particular set of villains all that much.

also shoutout to tess for being the only reasonable person on this show

predictions

i don't think magenta will face another elimination before the merge, unless something major happens next episode. it's just that between the love triangle plot and the fighting for ashley's attention plot, it would have to be ally, which removes the tension from that second one so soon after establishing it.

i think yellow could lose next time, and i maintain my previous prediction: yul loses if grett figures him out and votes for him, riya loses if it goes to tiebreaker (or if yul survives via immunity idol).

i don't think cyan is likely because the obvious boot is gabby and she like just decided to be a villain. it makes more sense to me that they'd lose a villain from yellow.

again i have no idea when merge happens. all bets are off if that's next.

love triangle was less central to this episode but i expect it to come back next time what with jake tricking aiden. ellie not being around to influence it could also change up the dynamic.

would like tess and ally to connect again but idk how likely.

villain's alliance will probably take center stage- gabby has expressed the intention to join them and yul is starting to blow up his relationship, so they're ripe for drama.

ellie not reading names at the end maybe indicates she's coming back although i doubt it's next episode if at all.

[cocktailsfairytales]

💥 FIRST LOOK! 💥

Here’s your exclusive first look at Tempting Tess by Cassie Colton!

Preorder your copy!

Amazon ➜ https://bit.ly/4divKJx

Apple ➜ https://apple.co/3zkSDhc

BN ➜ https://bit.ly/47cYTV3

Kobo ➜ coming soon

“Mijo, your chicken soup tastes like boiled water with chicken grease. Have you ever heard of seasonings?” She shook her head, cringing.

“I’ll have you know, I cook for the team,” Taco informed her proudly.

“And they're still alive?” She acted as if the news surprised her.

Taco leaned over, tugging her long, silky black hair. “Heyyy. Do you think you can do better? How about this? We’ll hold a cook-off. If you win, I’ll concede and give you back your keys. Yes, I have them. If you lose, you’ll allow me to help get you back on your feet.”

She turned her head to study him. “Fine. Tomorrow, we’ll start from scratch. I’ll need my keys to get ingredients out of my truck.”

“I’ll hand them over tomorrow. Shall we eat dinner?” He stood and started to exit when he noticed she didn’t follow.

She bit her lip and held in the laughter, “I can't stand another bland meal. What did you even call what you fixed?”

“Meatloaf.” He deadpanned.

Laughter filled the air. “Then you better hurry and get it. It’s burning.”

Book Blurb:

Devastated, destitute, and depressed Tess Ramerez is struggling to keep her taco truck, her only livelihood, afloat after the death of her beloved grandmother. Despite her financial and emotional situation, Tess does all she can to help others--even a young man who's embroiled in danger with a perilous gang. When Tess is injured in an attempt to save him, she has no trust in the medical field or the money to recover.

Retired Navy SEAL Noah "Taco" Whitaker puts his life on the line for others, facing off against sinister criminals for Serenity Securities. He finds solace in the spicier things in life, sexy women and scrumptious foods. And tacos top his list. The fiery, spitfire who owns his favorite food truck and keeps him on his toes with her spicy personality is an added bonus to his palate. But when a dangerous gang infiltrates their area and Tess is hurt, he'll do anything to help her. Getting her to agree to heal on Serenity Mountain is one of the toughest challenges of his life. Can he find a way to convince Tess to trust him or will tempting Tess be harder than taking down the gang who threatens them all?

#BAPpr #CassieColton #ExcerptReveal

[lilatreus]

how many kids does loki have in the comics? are all of his mythical kids in the comics or no?

Almost all of Loki’s mythical children are within the comics, but they’re not really his children depending on which character as well as who’s writing the story. Canonically Loki has at least six main children we know of and “hundreds more” that we don’t actually know of (from Spider-Man (1999) #504).

TESS BLACK

Tess Black is one of Loki’s children. She’s a mortal who was possessed by Morwen for a short time until Spider-Man and Loki came to rescue her. I honestly like her story because I like that Loki cares for his mortal children and wants them to stay safe. She’s from The Amazing Spider-Man (1999) #503 - #504.

the amazing Spider-Man (1999) #504

HELA

So Hela is tricky from the 2011 run of journey into Mystery we’re told that Hela isn’t actually Loki’s daughter. She’s in fact way older than him and that the myths are incorrect.

journey into mystery (2011) #641

However in Thor’s 2018 run we see Loki calling Hela their daughter and in The Mighty Valkyries (2021) we see Hela consider Jormungand her brother.

thor (2018) #3

And here’s another panel from the same comic where Loki out right says “it’s my children” with a panel featuring both Hela and Fenris.

thor (2018) #2

and here’s the narrator saying saying jormungand is her brother/relative.

the mighty valkyries (2021) #3

Also in Agent of Asgard (2014) #13 Loki straight up calls Hela daughter.

SLEIPNIR

While the wiki says that Sleipnir is Loki’s child. I cannot find any actual comic panel within marvel comics that states him as the son of Loki. For the comics universe he’s just Odin’s horse who makes a few appearances here and there. There is one comic that has a young Odin and sleipnir together where Odin is fighting the horse, so we can all say that he isn’t actually Loki’s son.

mighty thor (2011) #7

NARVI (+váli)

while he’s not actually present in the comics we do get a hint about him via Loki. He’s already dead by this time, but he is one of Loki’s canon children. His brother, however, we can speculate that since Narvi is canon in the comics so is Váli, but there’s no mention of Váli whatsoever so he is up for debate.

free comic book day (avengers) (2018) #1

FENRIS

Because of Thor (2018) we can safely say that Fenris is in fact Loki’s child. But for more proof Loki says in The Mighty Valkyries (2021) #1 that Fenris is in fact his child.

JORMUNGAND

In Agent of Asgard Loki calls Jormungand their son, even going so far to call himself his father and saying he wants to spend time with his kids.

Agent of Asgard #13

There’s also a panel of Freyja calling herself Jormungand’s grandmother in Agent of Asgard #14.

VALI HALFLING

to be completely truthful I don’t know much about him, but with research it is true that he’s one of Loki’s sons. He was also called Agamemnon and was murdered in x-factor (2005) #224. He’s more prominent in Hulk comics which is why he’s never really been on my radar. I literally went and looked up this character and nothing really pops out to me so if you’re a hulk fan or know more about Hulk characters, feel free to correct me on this one.

[mysticstronomy]

ASTRONOMERS SEE SIGNS OF A NEW WORLD OUTSIDE MILKY WAY FOR FIRST TIME!!

Blog# 157

Wednesday, January 12th, 2022

Welcome back,

Signs of a planet transiting a star outside of the Milky Way galaxy may have been detected for the first time. This intriguing result, using NASA’s Chandra X-ray Observatory, opens up a new window to search for exoplanets at greater distances than ever before.

The possible exoplanet candidate is located in the spiral galaxy Messier 51 (M51), also called the Whirlpool Galaxy because of its distinctive profile.

Exoplanets are defined as planets outside of our Solar System. Until now, astronomers have found all other known exoplanets and exoplanet candidates in the Milky Way galaxy, almost all of them less than about 3,000 light-years from Earth. An exoplanet in M51 would be about 28 million light-years away, meaning it would be thousands of times farther away than those in the Milky Way.

“We are trying to open up a whole new arena for finding other worlds by searching for planet candidates at X-ray wavelengths, a strategy that makes it possible to discover them in other galaxies,” said Rosanne Di Stefano of the Center for Astrophysics | Harvard & Smithsonian (CfA) in Cambridge, Massachusetts, who led the study, which was published today in Nature Astronomy.

This new result is based on transits, events in which the passage of a planet in front of a star blocks some of the star's light and produces a characteristic dip. Astronomers using both ground-based and space-based telescopes – like those on NASA's Kepler and TESS missions – have searched for dips in optical light, electromagnetic radiation humans can see, enabling the discovery of thousands of planets.

Di Stefano and colleagues have instead searched for dips in the brightness of X-rays received from X-ray bright binaries. These luminous systems typically contain a neutron star or black hole pulling in gas from a closely orbiting companion star. The material near the neutron star or black hole becomes superheated and glows in X-rays.

Because the region producing bright X-rays is small, a planet passing in front of it could block most or all of the X-rays, making the transit easier to spot because the X-rays can completely disappear. This could allow exoplanets to be detected at much greater distances than current optical light transit studies, which must be able to detect tiny decreases in light because the planet only blocks a tiny fraction of the star.

The team used this method to detect the exoplanet candidate in a binary system called M51-ULS-1, located in M51. This binary system contains a black hole or neutron star orbiting a companion star with a mass about 20 times that of the Sun. The X-ray transit they found using Chandra data lasted about three hours, during which the X-ray emission decreased to zero.

Based on this and other information, the researchers estimate the exoplanet candidate in M51-ULS-1 would be roughly the size of Saturn, and orbit the neutron star or black hole at about twice the distance of Saturn from the Sun.

While this is a tantalizing study, more data would be needed to verify the interpretation as an extragalactic exoplanet. One challenge is that the planet candidate’s large orbit means it would not cross in front of its binary partner again for about 70 years, thwarting any attempts for a confirming observation for decades.

Originally published on exoplanets.nasa.gov

COMING UP!!

(Saturday, January 15th, 2022)

“ASTRONOMERS SEE SIGNS OF A NEW WORLD OUTSIDE MILKY WAY FOR FIRST TIME!! PT.2”

[imagine-loki]

As blue as the sky itself

CHAPTER NO. 13. Never AUTHOR: colifower ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine Loki falling in love with The Tesseract RATING: Gen NOTES/WARNINGS: Well, well, well. We're finally at the end of the journey. I hope that you've enjoyed your time with my little snippets of Tess and Loki's lives. I originally wrote this as part of @worstloki 's Tessember challenge back in December. You can see here what the other wonderful people have contributed to.

Since it was a prompt-based challenge, my original story was a bit mesy, so I decided to "clean the timeline" and post it here as ABATSI. The original version is still avilable on my AO3. It is longer and has some non-loki chapters but if you want to know more about it, the link is here.

There are no warnings for this chapter

The pic is also by me :D

“So, you convinced me to tell Loki how I felt. And it worked!” Tess stated, picking up Raisin from his place. They had a solid plan for the evening. “I want to repay you for your kindness.”

“…What are you scheming…?” they said, suspiciously. Tess was up to some shit, they felt it in his bones.

“………………………….grab my hand………………………….I promise I won’t hurt you……………………”

“You realize that now I’m even more scared than before, right?”

Tess just smiled mischievously and held out his hand to Raisin.

“Tess?”

“Raisin?”

Raisin huffed and held their hand. “If I die my ghost will hunt you forever.”

Tess giggled and teleported them to their secret destination.

“A bar?”

Tess giggled and pulled them towards the counter.

“A gay bar?!” he exclaimed, seeing the asgardian pride paraphernalia. “You brought me to a gay bar?”

“Yeah!” they shouted above the noise. How was it that crowded at four pm, Raisin would never know. “I’ve been holding hands with Loki for a week now, I want you to find somebody that wants to hold your hand all the time too.”

“Aw… that’s very sweet of you, Tess.”

“Thank you,” they added. “Tell me who do you like and I’ll ask them to come over ;). Oh. Wait, I forgot to tell you.”

Tess leaned over to whisper in Raisin’s ear, not before having looked both sides for spies, just as Bor had taught them. It was important to keep your secrets secret. “Some people will want to do T-h-e S-e-x with you, be careful with that.

“I like having sex, Tess” he laughed. They have scared them a bit at the beginning.

Tess frowned. “Really? Wow, I guess there’s no problem with it then. They looked intensely at their friend. “But like… for real?”

“Yeah. I like having sex with other men.”

“Amazing. I don’t think I’d enjoy having The Sex with anybody. More people for you!” they cheered. Everything was going according to their plan. It wasn’t particularly elaborated or good, but it had taken them so much time to read the dating advice guide that now they were going to follow through, nevertheless. “So… do you see somebody you like?”

“First we take something to drink” Raisin made a sign for the bartender to come and take their order. “One extreme portable fridge for me and… what do you want?”

“Do you have warm milk with sugar?”

“Sure” they answered.

“Then one of those.”

“Noted.”

“Now we find a fine gentleman for our… fine friend ;). Who is your hottest person? Hot? Is that the word, right?”

Raisin groaned. “This is not a toy shop, Tess. You can’t just pick up a random somebody and bring it home” Raisin complained. They spotted a strong figure at the other side of the bar. They had long and luscious black hair pinned with a Vanir-style headpiece. “Well… maybe you can?”

Tess violently snapped their head and searched furiously for Raisin’s potential march.

“Here you go! It’ll be seventy AsBucks.”

“Damn. Seventy AsBucks? For some milk? At least give me some silly straws to enjoy it better.”

The bartender grumbling searched for the silly straws. They knew well that that glowing fella was the Allfather’s current boytoy and would complain to the Emperor that they had charged them seventy times the amount.

“Here you have.”

“Ooh… two horizontal and a heart-shaped loop! This is decadent. I’m so honoured. Thank you very much” said the Infinity Stone, grabbing the strawed drink and heading straight towards Raisin’s pick.

“Tess! No!”

“Tess, yes!” they said to themself. “Hello! My friend Raisin over here would like to hold your hand, maybe have The Sex with you. What do you think?”

“Tess, no…” they whispered. He was dying of embarrassment. “Wait, Sif? Is that you?”

The warrior slowly turned around. “Raisin? What are you doing here?”

“Erm… Hello? I just explained it to you. He’s looking for somebody to hold his hand.”

“What are you doing at the gay bar, Sif?”

“Oh? Is this the gay bar?” she said sweating bullets. “I was mistaken, I thought this was the wrestling bar! I’ve never been here before.”

“Sif! Glad to see you here. Same as always?” asked the bartender from far away. Sif gave him a death stare.

“It’s ok, I kind of wanted to make some more queer friends” said Raisin, pulling up a chair. Tess was slurping their warm milk with fascination; they were really silly these straws.

“Ugh. Never tell a word about this. Specially not to my father. Never ever. Or I’ll end you.”

“Noted.”

[bytheangell]

If you are still taking prompts, what would you think about writing something(s) based off of this, either/both, the Professor/TA, or the Writer/Editor?

Dedication (modern AU, Herongraystairs, check the link in the ask for full writer/editor prompt, a wonderful plot idea by @high-warlock-of-brooklyn!) (Read on AO3)

This is the first book Will and Tessa are collaborating on. They’ve written plenty of books individually and Jem’s worked with each of them in turn. But this is the first time they’ve co-authored, an experience that’s proving unique and challenging for all of them.

Being with Will and Tessa while they work on a new project is always a blessing and a curse. They’re two of the best writers of their generation and when they work on their own they’re brilliant, but when they work together - well, they’re also brilliant, but that brilliance is coupled with the occasional near-catastrophic clash of opinions and emotions.

Which is where Jem comes in.

Where Will and Tessa are so driven by passion and feelings, Jem finds it much easier to distance himself from their project (and from the writers themselves) enough to see the bigger picture and find solutions before the issues build up. Like many things about the three of them, it’s a perfect balance - they just work, better than anyone (including Will, Tessa, and Jem) ever imagined possible when they first got together.

It’d been a messy start, with Will and Jem already together but both developing serious feelings for Tessa after they met during a book event. The three of them quickly became very close. There were whispers of which of them would end up leaving, then confusion when the answer was none: instead of two of them growing closer and shutting the third out, they all seemed to adjust and adapt naturally around the three of them coexisting. They aren’t perfect, but they are perfect for each other, at least as far as Jem’s concerned.

Jem knows that what they have is special, which he reminds himself of over and over as Will and Tessa sit on opposite sides of the sofa, voices quickly elevating to nearly shouting over an issue with one of the characters Will is in charge of writing: one he’s chosen to give a pretty damning curse from a trickster faerie in this land of magic their current collaboration is set in.

“Tell him he needs to make the changes, Jem,” Tessa insists, the third time she’s repeated the demand now.

“Tell her that this plot adds depth, and without it, he’s boring,” Will counters. “Sometimes people - characters - need to be brutally honest about their own faults and issues. Sometimes people are disappointing.”

That’s how Jem can tell things are spiraling: when Will and Tessa - who have effectively communicated and collaborated on half a dozen bestsellers and who love each other more than Jem’s ever seen two people experience love - refuse to speak directly to one another. The moment they start talking around each other and at Jem instead is when he knows he has to step in and diffuse.

Usually, it’s a matter of taking a break, getting some fresh air, and coming back with clear minds. Jem normally isn’t one to pick sides, but this is different. He isn’t worried about the direction of the book… but after reading the latest draft from Will, which Will wrote while refusing to speak to either of them for a full week, he’s worried about Will. And he knows Tessa is, too.

“Perhaps a good starting point would be admitting this isn’t really about the character at all,” Jem says softly, gazing closely between Will and Tessa. Will looks a bit guilty and Tessa looks away entirely, which tells Jem that he’s right in guessing their concerns are also less plot-based.

“...what else would it be about?” Will asks defensively. But they can all sense how he’s been pushing them away lately, much like the cursed character undeserving of love he’s written in. It’s obvious that Tessa isn’t sure how to bring it up or else she would’ve already. Or maybe she already had and it hadn’t gone well.

“Tessa, would you mind making some tea?” Jem asks, waiting until she’s out of the room to turn back to Will.

“Will… you know this is about you. You barely talk to anyone for a week then come back with this character in such a self-deprecating mindset…”

“That’s ridiculous. He’s just a character,” Will says, but Jem can tell he’s entirely unconvinced of his own words.

“So if Tess came back having written Evangeline that way?” Jem counters, and there’s that look of subtle guilt, right back on Will’s face as he frowns and pieces together why Tessa’s so upset with him.

“I fucked up, didn’t I?” Will sighs.

“We’re not mad at you,” Jem’s quick to point out. “We’re just worried. It’s been a while since you tried to push us away like this, I just want to make sure you’re okay. We both do. Take it out in the writing if you want, but talk with us, too. Alright, my love?”

Jem’s tense as he waits. This has one of two options: Will relents and listens to him and they all have tea and talk this out, or Will storms out and they don’t see him again for another day or two.

Will stays. “I’m just letting the pressure get to me,” he admits. “I’m sure that’s all it is... But yeah. Okay. Tea.”

Tea, meaning ‘I’ll stay. I’ll talk. I’ll try.’ Jem leans over and places a barely-there kiss on Will’s lips before he relaxes back in his seat. Reaching out a hand that Will readily takes, Jem gives it a tight squeeze as they both wait for Tessa to return.

They talk.

In the end, the character arc stays. With a few redeeming modifications at Tessa and Jem’s entirely unbiased suggestion, of course.

---

A little over halfway through the first draft things seem to stall out. They have a progress deadline that week with the publisher and they’re cutting it close - mostly because Tessa keeps tossing everything she writes without giving Jem the chance to look it over. Recently she’s let her curiosity get the best of her, delving into research she should be allowing Jem to help with.

...and when he says ‘delving’, what he really means is stubbornly obsessing over, nitpicking bits of lore to streamline, and doing hours and hours of research for single-line references.

“When was the last time she slept? Like, an actual night of sleep?” Jem asks Will one day after a quick touch-base meeting that went… not terribly, but not particularly great, either.

“You need to get her out of here. No books. No wifi. I tried to kick her out but… well, you can imagine how well that went,” Will admits, and Jem winces in sympathy.

“The Time Out Cottage?” Jem asks, referring to a small cottage they own for unplugged getaways, where the wifi signal is nonexistent and a landline exists for emergency calls. “That means we’ll both be out of easy reach, and with that Friday deadline-”

“I can handle it,” Will cuts him off. “She’s been getting in her own way for days now, but she refuses to listen to me.”

A few minutes later Jem tentatively knocks on the door to the small study that does, in fact, look more like a makeshift research library. He nearly doesn’t see Tessa behind the small mountain of books on the floor, but he hears her pen tapping rapidly against the hardwood. No, not just rapidly - anxiously. He knows that action all too well.

“Tessa, what number is that?” he asks, the question needing no further explanation past his accusatory tone and pointed look at a coffee mug, which is next to a second coffee mug, which is next to a cup of black tea.

“Four? No, wait… what time is it?” she glances around and seems surprised by the height of the sun in the sky. “It’s afternoon already?”

Jem sighs. “It’s nearly four o’clock, Tessa, and your blood is probably about 90% caffeine. Come on, get your things, we’re taking a trip.”

Tessa looks immediately horrified. “No! I can’t, we can’t! The deadline, and I still have to streamline the fae lore between the two-”

“Will has it handled for 24 hours. That’s all we’re asking. 24 hours without research.” “Jem, you know-”

“-that you’ll be twice as productive once we’re back and you’re refreshed instead of running on fumes and fever dreams?” Jem cuts her off, his tone kind but insistent. He bends over and picks up a piece of paper. “Tessa, my love, this is nearly incoherent.”

Tessa reaches up to take the page from him and frowns. “I… okay, I can make out some of this, but I’m pretty sure that bit talks about aliens which isn’t any more reassuring. Will did say I was writing myself in circles, but I thought he was just, well, being Will, so... Yeah. Okay. Maybe I need to step back for a bit.” Tessa sighs. “The Time Out Cottage?”

“I already packed you a bag,” Jem confirms with a soft smile, leaning down to kiss the middle of her forehead before reaching out a hand to help her up off the floor.

When they return exactly 24 hours later, Tessa gets back to work and the lore practically falls into place between the two of them.

They meet the Friday deadline without a problem.

---

Jem spends his free time playing violin while Will and Tessa go through the first draft and begin to brainstorm fixes for plotholes, new minor characters to add to scenes that feel a bit lacking, and other small improvements to really round out the story and the world they’re weaving. They both claim to think clearer with his music in the background so he stays, even if he doesn’t feel particularly useful for this stage of the process until they have a single, coherent draft to hand over to him.

These are the moments Jem’s own insecurities and flaws float to the surface. The moments he watches Will and Tessa, so alike, so perfect for each other, connect on a level he isn’t privy to. He knows it’s a silly thought, that he and Will have their own things, as do he and Tessa. But sometimes he wonders if they truly need him around, or if he’s simply just become too much a part of the routine to actively get rid of.

He watches them sit next to each other with shoulders touching, hunched over a small screen, whispering back and forth. There’s a small smile on his face, one that’s wistful and tinged with hints of longing that, much to his dismay, they pick up on.

“I know that look,” Tessa says, catching Jem’s gaze and drawing Will’s attention before Jem can wipe the expression from his face. “Get over here. I think we’ve done enough work for today.”

Will is the first to move over, making room for Jem in the middle of them. After placing his violin back in its case Jem heads over to join them on the sofa, embracing the way Will and Tessa immediately crowd into his space once he’s settled, both placing a comforting kiss to his temples simultaneously before resting their heads on each of his shoulders and a placing a hand in each of his own.

They talk a bit, not about the book, but about anything and everything else, and fall asleep there, still entwined together.

---

It’s rare for any part of one of their books to be a surprise to Jem upon publication. He sees all the drafts, talks them through the acknowledgments and dedications, double-checks the reference pages against the chaotic piles of books and notes around their home.

So he’s immediately (and rightfully) suspicious the moment they hand him the first advanced copy and tell him to open it, watching his every move with eager expressions. Excited, but anxious.

‘A dedication to the one most dedicated to us:

This book would not be what it is without the kind heart, encouraging words, and infinite patience of James Carstairs. Neither would we. Jem, you are a light in our darkest hours, and we don’t know where we’d be without you.

We hope we’ll never have to find out.

Jem, our love, will you marry us?’

Jem reads, then re-reads the dedication. He closes the book, then opens it again, reading it a third time for good measure.

“Well?” Will asks impatiently, earning himself a nudge in the ribs from Tessa. Will huffs.

“I see you’re as dramatic as always,” Jem says quietly, instead of answering the question posed in the book. He knows his answer. He’s known for a while now what his answer would be, should the topic ever present itself, but he gets a bit of joy from making Will wait in anticipation just a short while longer.

“He wanted to be even more dramatic and show you at the event tomorrow,” Tessa admits. “But we decided against it. We thought you deserved the chance to say no without two hundred sets of eyes on you.”

Jem raises an eyebrow. “You think I’ll say no?”

“You haven’t said ‘yes’ yet,” Will points out, but he doesn’t sound nervous about it. Nor should he be.

“Yes,” Jem says, smiling brightly. “Of course it’s yes.”

[somersetmummy]

(A/N): This fic is part three of the continuation of the story taking place following book 1 chapter 11 (after being rescued by Sam from Sofia's closet). I’m sorry this took so long post, I’ve been dealing with some things in real life and unfortunately writing fell to the bottom of the list!

Series/Pairing: The Nanny Affair (M!Sam Dalton x MC Katie Hide)

Original characters - all property of PB: Katie Hide (MC), Sam Dalton, Jenny Blake, Robin Flores

New characters: (present in part 3 but not mentioned by name) Serena-Rose Warren, Tessa Finch, Lucinda Hansen

Rating/Content warning: 15+ (a little bit of lust & desire, a few naughty words but nothing graphic)

Word Count: Around 3000, I lost count!

Summary: While out with her friends, Katie bumps into a familiar face, will the night lead her home to Sam or elsewhere?

- Scroll to the bottom for bonus text messages and group chat -

Part Three

As the newest bar on the New York social scene, Atlas had drawn quite a crowd. Hopeful revellers huddle together in the queue outside teased by the sound of merriment within each time the door opens for one of the guest list elite. Katie tentatively approaches the doorman, politely name dropping her way in, wondering to herself in disbelief how this is in fact her life.

Once inside, the unmistakable energy of Jenny and the gang pulls her towards their table in the middle of the room, a melting pot of silken hair, sequins and stilettos, it's hard not to be captivated by the glamorous group she calls her friends.

As she cautiously makes a beeline for the table Jenny notices her approaching, her face lighting up in recognition of her friend. Looking effortlessly edgy as usual, her short dark hair matches the black silk tank top tucked into a feathered black mini skirt. She eyes Katie and unapologetically wolf whistles in her direction.

With her new found confidence, Katie removes her jacket and saunters over to her friends, inwardly basking in the attention of several male pairs of eyes drinking her in along the way. While skimming through the crowd, a blush spreads delicately across her neck and cheeks as she feels one pair of eyes in particular playing close attention. Before she can take a good look around she's embraced by an overly enthusiastic Jenny, almost knocking the wind out of her.

Grinning sincerely back at Jenny, she then moves to Lucinda, Serena and Tess in turn, hugging them tightly and instantly feeling herself relax more than she has done in months, all memories of the drama of her new life checked at the door.

When she had first moved from England for her grad programme, Katie met Jenny almost immediately. One unsuspecting Sunday morning, having escaped the deafening throbbing of heavy bass coming through the wall she shared with her neighbour, Katie was in need of a quiet space to seek refuge and study. She came across an unimposing coffee shop a few blocks away and was immediately drawn to the homey interior as she gazed through the window. As she stepped in, calm washed over her, it felt like home. Settled with her head in her books, it wasn't long before a tornado of colour, energy and expletives tore its way across the room towards her. Jenny.

Taken aback by the intrusion, Katie sat in dismay as this whirlwind of a person rambled on about needing some kind of cover story for being there as her ex sat at the other end of the room with a decidedly less chaotic redhead in his arms. Katie graciously agreed to play along and let Jenny sit with her. It wasn't long before the ex was forgotten as the two women got caught up in conversation, the more they learned about each other the more they found that despite being complete opposites, they blended effortlessly. From that day on, Jenny had taken Katie under her wing and the rest, as they say, is history.

A few minutes after settling on the tall metal stools at the pristine granite topped table, a bucket of Dom Perignon on ice arrives along with 5 glasses. The group look to one another, perplexed, nobody owning up to the extravagant order.

"With compliments of Mr Dalton..." the bartender explains before turning to head back to the heaving bar.

With only Jenny knowing the truth about her as yet un-named relationship with Sam, the rest of the girls just assume it's part of his flashy, rich guy MO, unaware that there could be any other meaning to this gesture than of him having the means to do something nice for his hard working nanny. Jenny on the other hand is about as subtle as a brick and leans in immediately, at least with the decency to lower her voice to a whisper.

"Someone's wanting to impress your friends...and it's working!!"

As Katie throws daggers at Jenny in response, she can't stop her lips from curling in amusement. Turning to take one of the glasses and join in with their toast to friendship, she feels a warmth radiating from her heart reminding of the incredible man waiting for her at home.

After a couple of hours of conversation and countless cocktails, the friends make their way down the stairs to the packed club in the basement, the chic modern décor highlighted by atmospheric blue lighting illuminating the room.

As she slips through the throngs of people to the middle of the dance floor Katie once again feels like someone is watching but can't pinpoint where they might be in the crowd, instead shrugging it off and throwing herself into dancing with the girls.

Unbeknown to her, the pair of dazzling green eyes which she felt boring into her belong to a very familiar face, still watching with a bemused smile as she dances sultrily to the rhythm of the music.

Completely entranced and thoroughly enjoying the view, Robin, who had been leaning against one of the VIP booths at the back of the room with a drink in hand, can't help but pull his phone out and capture the moment on camera.

His favourite past time of getting one over on his semi-brother had never been easier since meeting Katie. He'd quickly realised that flirting with her was a sure fire way to get under Sam's skin. Without a second thought, his fingers get to work tapping away on his phone's screen. As expected, a barrage of messages are swiftly returned warning him against doing anything remotely 'Robin'.

Rolling his eyes and with a heightened sense of determination, he pockets his phone and downs the rest of his drink licking the lingering taste of whiskey from his lips. He has no intention of listening to his brother's warning to stay away, after all Sam isn't here and surely what he doesn't know won't hurt him.

Completely oblivious to him moving towards her, he cuts through the crowed with laser precision until he's standing a hairs breath away from the delicious porcelain skin of her back. Her cheeks once again tingle with blush and the hairs on the back of her neck stand to attention as she feels the same, now familiar, gaze upon her once more. This time the intensity courses through her body, urging her to turn around.

Cautiously spinning on her heel, a short gasp stifled by a giggle escapes her as her eyes lock on Robin's mischievous grin. He beams at her, challenging her as his hands reach shamelessly for her waist.

"You look amazing out here," he quips, "but I think this song sounds better when you're dancing with someone."

Her cocktail induced daze prevents her from thinking about objecting. Instead, rising to his challenge, she throws him a playful smile and turns back around, pressing her hips into his crotch and swaying seductively to the music.

His hands delicately slide up from her waist, his fingertips stroking the bare skin of her back before caressing her neck and finally moving up her arms to meet with her hands which skim through the air as she sways. Their fingers interlock as he pulls her arms back down to her hips, spinning her round to face him, both breathless.

Instinctively she throws her arms around his neck while his swiftly fall to the small of her back, igniting small sparks up and down her spine.

Robin can't quite believe his luck and thanks his lucky stars that he accepted the last minute invitation to join some old friends at the hottest new bar in town, when what he had really wanted to do after his long day was go home and order pizza.

They move to the music together for a few songs, comfortable with each other's presence and both enjoying the close attention they so rarely receive from anyone else.

Perhaps it's because of their shared experience of looking in on the Dalton's world from the sidelines, but there's something so familiar and natural about being this close to Robin and a kind of ease she's never felt with any man before.

Sure, Sam insists that there is something real between them, she feels it too and their undeniable magnetism between proves there's a connection. But he's never committed 100% to her, at the end of each day he still goes to bed engaged to someone else and she can't help sometimes feeling like she's just an observer to his life.

Lost in their blissful cocoon, it isn't until another pair of hands snake around her waist that she is reminded of where they are. Warm breath from lipgloss stained lips tickles her ear causing her to take a step back from Robin, sobering her to their surroundings.

"Babe, we're heading over to the bar for a refresh, time to leave lover boy!"

Jenny winks at Robin, unapologetically looking him over like he's a piece of meat she wants to devour. She clearly doesn't realise that 'lover boy' is in fact Sam's brother, a fact which Katie doesn't intend to share. She can only imagine the probing that would follow if Jenny knew the truth.

"I'll be right there."

She offers a gentle push to Jenny's rear, encouraging her to move on. Fortunately she complies and slinks off towards the bar, not before giving an impressed nod, clearly approving of Katie's dancing partner.

Turning back to Robin, the space between them has grown and the anticipation in the air dissipated as they reluctantly realise their time together has come to an end.

Without missing a beat, Robin flashes a devilish smile as he steps close once again, reaching for her hand, bringing it up to his lips for a soft kiss.

"Until next time Katie..."

He shifts even closer causing her heart to skip a beat. His hand caressing her cheek as it slides through her delicate tresses tilting her head upwards to meet his gaze. His eyes bore into hers for what fees like an eternity before his lips tantalisingly brush against her ear.

"Unless you want to take this back to my place?"

Her breath catches as a warm glow rushes through her veins. The question hangs in the air around them like a fog clouding her judgement.

Of the two brothers, Robin is by far the easier choice, he is after all available without any strings attached.

His stature is much the same as Sam's, his skin slightly lighter, with a similar warm tone. But the eyes....those dazzling emerald green eyes which she could get lost in, framed by delicate laughter lines painted across his beautiful face. His relaxed demeanour and ability to always smile no matter what is going on around him is infectious.

Yes, being with Robin would be easier, life simpler and undoubtedly endlessly fun but as she stares back into those hypnotising green eyes, their foreheads touching, she realises with a pang in her heart that it undeniably belongs to someone else.

In defeat she licks her lips, a small movement which immediately captures Robin's attention, and shakes her head in reply.

"Oh Robin, as tempting as that sounds, I think we'd be wise to go out separate ways tonight."

He returns her smile with a soft kiss on the cheek.

"Can't blame a guy for trying. I guess I'll just have to wait until next time"

Winking, he slips away into the crowd like a ghost and for a moment she wonders whether he was even there at all.

After making her way back to the penthouse in a daze, Katie gingerly steps out of the elevator, tiptoeing carefully down the hall. Her heart skips a beat as she catches sight of Sam fast asleep on the couch.

She can't help but smile to herself as her eyes trace the outline of his sleeping body, that magnetism she so often feels when she’s around him pulling her across the room until she's standing over him.

He looks beautiful, peaceful, almost vulnerable. She realises she's never seen him sleep before and hopes it’s not too creepy to stay and watch him for a few minutes as she slinks down to sit on the footstool between the couch and the coffee table, her knees brushing against Sam's thighs.

Lying on his side, his strong arms are folded across his chest as if protecting himself like armour. His chiselled chest gently rises and falls with each breath, eyelashes fluttering delicately as he dreams, his lips slightly apart, tempting her to kiss them.

She leans closer to him, elbows resting on her bare knees. A curl of his dark silken hair has fallen in front of his eyes and she tenderly stroke it back across his forehead and he involuntarily smiles at her touch.

Staring down at this beautiful man a realisation rushes into her mind like a car speeding out of control. She is completely and utterly, hopelessly in love with Sam Dalton.

Mind slightly fuzzy, her cocktail induced confidence and new realisation makes her brave, encouraging her to gently press her lips to his while cupping his face with her warm hand. He responds immediately by sliding his arm around her waist, kissing back softly, still half asleep. She leans closer still, lips grazing the top of his ear, her voice a whisper.

"I'm home, it's late, you should've gone to bed."

His eyes flicker open, adoration pouring over her, his hand still clinging to her waist.

"I couldn't sleep until I knew you were home safe"

Her lips curl in amusement. "You do realise I’ve just woken you up right?!”

Laughing softly to himself, he sits up so his knees are touching hers and their eyes lock while they share a secret smile reserved only for each other. He runs his hand through his hair and checks the time on his Rolex.

"Oh man, I didn't realise it had gotten so late....did you have a good time with your friends?"

"It was amazing. I miss seeing them...as much as I love being here with you and the boys I've realised it's still good for me to have some time for myself."

He softly skims his hands up her thighs, his slightest touch stoking the fire within.

"Of course, I want that for you too."

Leaning in to one another, the air crackles between them, their night apart building as much desire as any foreplay. As the space between them closes, their breath tangles together. The drumming of their heartbeats the only sound they can hear, until the shrill cry of Katie’s phone cuts through the air.

Pausing with their foreheads resting together they both turn to stare at it willing it to stop, but the phones persistence echoes around the room as it continues to ring.

"That'll be Jenny checking I've got home...I'd better answer or she'll keep ringing." She sighs, hesitantly pulling away from Sam while lifting the phone to her ear.

"Hey Jen.”

Sam’s whole body slouches, visibly defeated. He shakes his head before lightly kissing her cheek as he stands, the moment regrettably over.

"Goodnight Katie" he sighs quietly, so only she hear.

Jenny animatedly chatters on about the hot cab driver who asked for her number, though Katie barely hears her as she zones out watching Sam's back retreating to the boys room to check on them before he goes to bed.

"Goodnight Sam" she sighs in resignation, her words swallowed by the now empty room.

TAG list: @shewillreadyou @txemrn @silma-words @thefrenchiemama @secretaryunpaid @sfb123 @chemist-ana

- Bonus -

Text messages between Katie and Sam after the champagne.

Text messages between Robin and Sam about Katie.

Girls group chat the morning after, completely unrelated, just for fun, just to show their dynamic!

[bardicious]

MCU AUs and Headcanons!

Part 1 I’m going to make this a series of posts so they never get too big! I’ll set it up by tens. Disclaimer: these are not meant to really be canon compliant and are a combination of comics, movies, plus myths at times! And I mean like everything is really mixed around! These are mostly Thor movie related, but I’m sure other movie headcanons will come up eventually.

Thor is not Frigga's biological son either. Thor's mother is a goddess that once lived on Midgard but died during the war with the frost giants.

The war with Jotunheimr centered around the birth of Thor and Loki. Both children destined for the Asgardian throne, and therefore a threat to each others parent. Hela aimed to kill Thor in this war, and Odin planned to kill Loki. When the war was over, Odin couldn't bring himself to kill Loki and instead took him back to Asgard.

When the war ended, Hela assumed her child was dead and she attacked the royal family once again, she lost and was sent to Helheimr. Where she did not age and spent thousands of years alone.

Laufey was not Loki's father either. Laufey was the younger brother of Jormungandr, a half frost giant half fire giant being, who was a shapeshifter. Jormungandr and Hela met, fell in love, and had a child named Loki. Jormungandr presumably died before the war began.

Loki had a child with a Midgardian, he was only 500 years old and knew if anyone found out he'd be respected even less than he was already, one for having the child so young, two for having it with a Midgardian -no better than an animal in the eyes of Asgard- and thirdly because he was the one to bare the child. One of Loki's living relatives/descendants is Tess Black.

Loki has left a few magical trinkets on Midgard through his journeys across the nine realms, simply because no one cares to ever go to Midgard.

Asgard saw Loki's gender fluidity as another oddity to ridicule. Another example of his deviance. However, the royal family did not see it that way. And those who spoke like that within the vicinity of the royalties' ears were punished or reprimanded. Thor particularly didn't take kindly to judgments on Loki and often challenged those who slandered his brother's name. No matter how well intentioned their actions, Loki's family only made things worse in the eyes of the people. So much that eventually even servants dared to laugh at the prince.

Heimdall bares no hate towards Loki, only suspicion due to Loki disappearing from his all seeing sight. In general, Heimdall does not tend to trust what he can't see and uses it as a crutch to guide his actions.

Heimdall is more loyal to his vision of what Asgard needs rather than what the House of Odin might say. This is what leads to his own actions for or against the Odinsons.

Thor and Loki were taught to love and serve Asgard. Though obviously they both make careless mistakes along the way.

[snappedsky]

Fanatics 81.3

Round One: Fight!

*Links to previous and next chapters in reblog*

--

Reawakening Part 3

           Johnny charges Zoli, the blades of his knives clashing against her scythe. She shoves him back and swings at him. He slams his foot onto the blade, driving it into the ground, and charges again. Letting go of her scythe, Zoli grabs both of his arms, just barely keeping his blades away from her face. Locked in this position, they snarl and glare at each other. Then Zoli smiles.

           Nightmare tendrils burst out of her back. Johnny gasps with surprise and, unable to escape Zoli’s grip, they smack into him, knocking him back. He skids across the ground and before he barely has a chance to look up, the tendrils knock him aside.

           He cries out in pain and shock as he slams onto his back. The tendrils quickly wrap around his ankles and he tries to cut them off with his knife, but there’s too many. They pick him up, swing him through the air, and smash him into the surrounding buildings. Each time, Johnny cries out in a little more agony.

           Finally, the tendrils drop him about six feet from the ground. He hits it hard, groaning painfully. As he struggle to stand up, covered in bruises, cuts, and gashes, Zoli stands over him, grinning.

           Crouching beside him, she grips his hair to lift his head. But he snarls and swipes at her with his hand. She barely dodges, stumbling back and laughing.

           “Lookit you,” she remarks as he glares at her, his eyes narrowed and frightening. “Beaten to a pulp and still you’re a terrifying beast. You really are one of a kind.”

           “But you’re still just a human,” she adds.

           Johnny spits out a glob of blood as he slowly rises to his feet. He prepares to charge but before he can take a step, Zoli’s tendrils lash out and pin him to the wall. He roars and exclaims angrily as he tries to push them off, but they’re just too strong.

           “Wanna know a secret, Nny?” Zoli purrs into his ear. “All those times you thought you beat me fair and square, I was holding back.”

           Johnny freezes, his eyes widening.

           “That’s right,” she grins, “do you know why? Because the Nightmare always wanted you alive to feed off you. A corpse doesn’t have an imagination. But you don’t really have an imagination anymore either, do you? But do you know who does?”

           “Squee.”

           Johnny’s right arm suddenly rips through the tendrils and swipes at Zoli, scratching her cheek. She stumbles back for just a second before a larger mass of Nightmare appendages burst out and slam into Johnny, wrapping around his arm and face and pressing him harder into the stone wall.    

           Zoli chuckles as she faces him, wiping dark red blood from her face. “You got nothing, Nny. You are nothing. Which means…I don’t have to hold back anymore. Goodbye, Johnny C.”

           The tendrils pick him up off the wall and continuously slam him against it again and again until he smashes through it. They let him go as he slumps to the floor within the building, the surrounding walls crumbling around him. His eyes crack open just enough to hopelessly watch as the ceiling crashes down on top of him.

           Meanwhile, across the city, Eff swings his knives at Jimmy who narrowly dodges. Sickness tries to kick Dillon who barely sidesteps her powerful legs. Reverend Meat punches at Krik who runs away from the large fists. And D-boy glares at Edgar.

           “Aw, how come I get stuck with the boring, old man?” he groans, “can you even fight?”            “I have been recently forced to take it up,” Edgar replies.            

           “Wow, sounds threatening,” D-boy remarks sarcastically. “Well, on the plus side, this’ll be easy.”

           He brandishes his mallet and swings for Edgar. But before the hammer can connect, Nightmare tendrils erupt from the side of Edgar’s head, catching it.

           “What-!” D-boy starts to exclaim when the appendages smack him away.

           At the same time, more tendrils emerge from Jimmy’s chest, Krik’s stomach, and Dillon’s arms. They lash out at the other Night Terrors, taking them by surprise and knocking them away. They all land in a heap next to D-boy.

           “New tricks, indeed,” Eff groans as they get up.

           Reverend Meat spots Tess nearby, rubbing her hands as she watches them.

           “Tess did the same thing,” he points out.

           “Yeah, we should’ve seen it coming,” Sickness grunts.

           “Whatever,” D-boy snaps, “it’s nothing we can’t handle.”

           “Think so, huh?” Jimmy smirks as the zombies stand before them, the Nightmare tendrils agitating around them.

           “We fought off the actual Nightmare before,” Eff scoffs, “you little puppets are nothing.”            “We’re not puppets. We’re the ones in control,” Jimmy sneers and all the appendages lash out.

           The Nightmares quickly leap backwards. They try to fight off the tentacles but there’s so many, it’s like a forest of wriggling blackness. The tendrils wrap around them, smack them, and push them down, crushing them like ants. And the zombies watch and laugh- except for Edgar who mostly just watches.

           To finish off the assault, the tendrils lift up the Night Terrors and smash them into the road, creating a small crater, before slithering off them. The zombies stand over them as they lie in the dirt, groaning painfully.

           “You guys are pathetic,” Jimmy scoffs, “you may have ‘special powers’ and be more durable or whatever, but now you’re just humans. And humans can’t beat monsters.”

           “Monsters, huh,” Reverend Meat sighs, “is that what you think you are?”

           “Uh, duh,” Dillon snorts.

           “You’re not monsters,” Eff argues.

           “You’re just a monster’s puppet,” Sickness adds.

           “You want monsters?” D-boy challenges as he sits up. “We’ll give you monsters.”

           He grabs his face, his fingers digging under the flesh, and rips it off like a rubber mask. When he looks up, his smile is unnaturally long and his eyes are big and purple with black swirls in them.

           “What the-!” Jimmy exclaims, all the zombies taken aback.

           As he stands up, Eff also rips off his face. He has the same unsettling smile but his eyes are just big, red orbs.

           Sickness doubles over, grunting in exertion as her stockings and boots are ripped away by her legs transforming into razor sharp blades. And when she looks up, her eyes have been replaced by screws.

           The zombies stumble back as the Night Terrors jump out of the hole, Reverend Meat in the lead, hanging his head.

           “You wanted monsters?” he asks as he looks up, his eyes now big, white orbs. “You got them.”

           Meanwhile, the Epic flies across the city carrying Zim, Dib, Gaz, Tak, and Pepito. They’re quiet, tense as they wait to arrive at Squee’s house.          

           About halfway there, something smashes into the underside of the car.

           “What the hell was that?” Gaz cries as they swerve to and fro.

           “I don’t know!” Zim exclaims as he struggles to retain control. “We can’t stay in the air! Brace yourselves!”

           He brings the Epic down, landing hard on the wheels and skidding to a stop. Everyone takes a second to catch their breath before getting out.

           “What hit us?” Dib asks.

           “I don’t know,” Zim replies as he examines the bottom of the car. “But we’re not gonna be able to fly now.”            “Guys,” Pepito says. Everyone looks up and spots a woman with very long, black hair. She’s wearing a brown trench coat over a dark green tank top, matching shorts, and knee high black boots, and has a large scythe leaning against her shoulder. Her eyes are dark red and her unsettling smile is full of fangs.

           The kids glare at her suspiciously as she stops in front of them.

           “Ah, the Battalion,” she sighs, “gee, it sure is swell to finally meet his other friends.”

           “You’re Zoli,” Pepito states.

           She snickers, her smile growing. “That’s right. And you’re the last obstacle in my way.”

           The Battalion quickly draw their weapons and prepare for battle.

           “Aw, how cute,” Zoli coos and pats her scythe. “This should be fun.”

[ladymazzy]

One year on: the BLM event that divided a Gloucestershire town

I'm beyond furious and exasperated with the perpetuation of the lie that racism is a thing of the past. This woman is only 25, and her recounting her experiences of going to school as a Black girl in the West Country only around a decade ago speaks volumes

Some highlights from the article. (CW for racism and White Fragility™️):

Growing up, Khady Gueye was one of just a handful of black pupils at her school in the Forest of Dean in Gloucestershire. By the time she was a teenager, she was desperate to fit in and conform. And so when her nickname became “Nigs” – short for the N-word – Gueye didn’t challenge it.

Here, in the rural west of England, where she had been fed racist stereotypes of black people her whole life, she didn’t want to be labelled “the angry black girl” or the self-pitying minority who “couldn’t take a joke” or what was considered a “bit of light banter”.

And so it was, that on the last day of school where it is tradition for year 11s to scrawl goodbye messages on one another’s school shirts, Gueye took home a shirt covered with the N-word in giant block capital letters across the front. “Gonna Miss You Nigs” was written on the back next to jokes about golliwogs and messages of good luck.

Gueye was supposed to consider it an affectionate send-off; it was written by her own friends. It was 2012, the year Britain proudly celebrated its optimistic and diverse Olympic Games opening ceremony, or as Conservative MP Aidan Burley would call it, “multicultural crap”.

“I became complicit in allowing it to continue, by being ‘Ha ha! Good joke guys,’” says Gueye, flatly. “But when you grow up in an area that is so predominantly white and are already made to feel different, you just do your best to fit in. The ideal is don’t call out racism. Let it slide. You become so accustomed to it, it becomes your norm.”

Now 25 and on the verge of finishing her English degree at Manchester University, Gueye has become a local community organiser and is more visible than ever in the town where she was born and grew up.

“I don’t want my daughter to grow up with the same experience I did,” she says emphatically, over lunch at her local pub. “This is my home and it’s a lovely area to bring up a family in. I want my daughter to have a life where she is celebrated for who she is, not feel attacked or unwelcome because of her skin colour.”

But Gueye’s attempts to hold a small “celebration of BAME (black, Asian and minority ethnic) culture” sparked a furious backlash that, one year on, still reverberates throughout the small Gloucestershire town of Lydney.

...an online petition was set up to stop the event going ahead on the grounds that it was unsafe and high risk in the middle of a pandemic. Organiser Natasha Saunders wrote: “A mass gathering is a slap in the face to people who have been tirelessly shielding themselves, the elderly and loved ones from this virus.”

Anger, tension and outright abuse boiled over online as a counter-petition to support the event was organised. It got twice the number of signatures, leading Saunders to say that hers was more valid by claiming “90% of [signatories] are from Lydney, can you say yours was?” Later, she would make Eldridge-Tull gasp by posting: “He couldn’t breathe, now we can’t speak”, in a reference to Floyd’s murder by a police officer.

“We’re a happy community, we don’t really have an issue with racism,” said one middle-aged man, who didn’t want his name published, as he nursed a pint outside a local pub. “Outsiders bring their problems, but there’s not a lot of them here,” he said, echoing in politer terms a point that was made repeatedly to the Observer last week.

Last year, Gueye and Eldridge-Tull spent hours patiently replying to comments online in an attempt to explain the event and reassure people about it, but still received threats. Hundreds of screenshots of the abuse have been shared with the Observer. A typical missive read: “Fuck off. Not everyone agrees with black lives. I can’t say what I want on here coz I’ll be reported for racism. But I would bring back black slavery.” Gueye was repeatedly told to go back to where she came from if she didn’t like it and that she would be responsible for bringing harm to Lydney residents.

The pair’s standard response to those with genuine concerns about mass gatherings in a health pandemic, during a lockdown, was to keep explaining that social distancing was being strictly adhered to – two-metre grids were hand-chalked by Gueye and Eldridge-Tull on the site – and that PPE was being provided to anyone who didn’t have any.

“I think it speaks volumes that BAME people are still willing to protest for their human rights even though they are disproportionately affected by the pandemic,” wrote Gueye. “Maybe this should highlight the severity of the inequality in our society”.

....

When asked if she [deputy mayor, Tess Tremlett] accepted there were a lot of racist aspects to the abuse the organisers had endured, Tremlett replied: “I think some of the comments coming from supporters of the event were actually racist in themselves. They were called ‘white trash’, they were called Nazis and all sorts.”

But as anti-racist activists have spent the last year explaining, racism isn’t simply prejudice based on how one looks, but a system...[based] around a specific set of ideas – in this case, racist ones.

It is useful to explain why it is possible for white people to experience individual prejudice and unpleasant behaviour simply based on the colour of their skin but why it is inaccurate to call that “racism”. Being white does not mean one is more likely to be criminalised by the police, or that one is more likely to work in lower-paid frontline work or that one is more likely to be exposed to and die of Covid as a result.

In Gloucestershire, for instance, police statistics show that being black means you are nine times more likely to be stopped and searched by the police than you would if you were white.

The numbers are blankly disproportionate; there are just over 5,000 black people resident in the county compared with 570,000 white people. Last year, Gloucestershire council published evidence that jobseekers from minority ethnic groups had to send an average of 60% more applications to receive the same level of interest as white candidates. It’s not a conversation that Lydney, like much of the country, appears to have much interest in yet.

Tremlett, who has two decades of experience working in community engagement, explained that her sole reason for opposing the event was to be lawful. “Racism is the biggest insult anyone can say to me and I was called a racist by Khady’s team, whoever they are.” Was being called a racist worse than the actual racism that Gueye was continually facing in her everyday life? At this, Tremlett began to cry.

”You don’t understand,” she said, explaining that her daughter had been to three Indian weddings, that her builder was black, and that she had run an equalities panel for years as a councillor. Her experience – being called a racist, being abused online – when she felt she was doing the right thing, understandably made her defensive and upset. But it’s a difficult position for Gueye and Eldridge-Tull to deal with. Especially as she described Gueye as “aggressive and confrontational”.

Last year, Tremlett took the matter of the Forest of Dean’s BLM movement to local Conservative MP Mark Harper, who raised the matter in the House of Commons.

On 17 June, Harper, who may be best known as the immigration minister responsible for sending vans encouraging illegal immigrants to “go home” around parts of London, appeared to encourage an online pile-on against Eldridge-Tull, who had a tenth of his 30,000 followers, and demanded she apologise to the local community for tweeting: “The reaction to the BLM protest in Lydney has brought to light so much support, but so much hate. I love where I live, but I’m ashamed of my neighbours, and ashamed to be part of a community that has so widely endorsed and exacerbated racial hatred.”

....

When Gueye posted a picture of her school-leaver’s shirt on Instagram last year, one of her schoolfriends wrote that it was outrageous, and that she was impressed with everything Gueye was doing. “I was really happy she felt that but it was awkward,” says Gueye. “I messaged her back to say that she was one of the people who wrote those messages.” An embarrassed silence followed, but Gueye is hopeful and optimistic. “It’s still a positive sign.”

[junkrxt]

NAME: CYREX “JUNKRAT” KAIZEN GOES BY: JUNKRAT, REX, JUNKER. FACECLAIM: BERK ATAN AGE: 29 PRONOUNS: HE/HIM ZONE OF ORIGIN: ZONE 2 STATUS: MECHANIC @ CHQS & CHAOS JUNKER ON THE DL

TRAITS

+ PRECOCIOUS + SHARP WITTED + SLICK 

- CHAOTIC - DISORDERLY – TUMULTUOUS

HEADCANONS: 

Calloused fingers pick at the wrapping on Rex’s left hand, wet where an unhealed injury lies underneath. A honeyed crimson seeps through the brown-stained brace and the Junker’s stabbing his right thumb into the palm of his hand – stems the flow (so he imagines.) and eases the pain vibrating through his hand as it shakes under irritated tendons. There’s an abundance of cusses slipping from Kaizen’s lips that remind him that it’s his clumsy manner of battling through an uncharted junkpile; sharp is broken metal; like glass at its edges when a hand catches the tip ever so cleanly. He’s surrounded by chaos (that’s how everyone else would see it, at least.) when in fact, it’s an organised catastrophe of scrap and mechanical-potential. He’s sprawled on the roof of a broken vehicle, indented under the weight of the man and his gizmos as he looks at the rising sun above; streams of light reflecting off his steampunk-esque glasses that are strapped to his forehead and shield the rays that have every likelihood to burn his sockets – one of the more horrific of instances for a man who prides on reparations to sustain life.

Black boots thump on the concrete rooftop – Cyrex convinced that his hole-up of a headquarters (the one he doesn’t act like a screwed-on being for.) is on the collapse, every day, something new crops up that he’s tinkering together. Never is anything broken for too long, tarps overhead that form a blockade from overheating, a gentle whir in the background of a refrigerator-like device that he’s storing scraps in. Junkrat is the perfect calibre of a name – though, the tailed creatures that scutter along the floor between overgrown ivy would probably argue against the moniker. Not that Rex sees them as junk, but they’ve got a nice crunch – kind of like bone, some would say. He finds use for that too; perfect sounding alarm for little junk boobytraps that put him on the other end of a Raider’s alert.

Kaizen’s got a favourite rat, she’s called Tess, surname, Tickle.

Distinguished is his attire; braces, ripped, torn and an eyesore of a mechanic in the walls of CHQS. Though unquestionably talented when challenged in the art of techno talk and rather a soloist if it were chalked down to a performance. An old, carcinogenic aroma is distinct enough that it is only outweighed by burnt oil and rubber of the rover’s Rex is known to fasten together; call him a motorhead; will race you to any milestone; all territories and let unforgiving crashes be their end. It’s not obvious with how he behaves that the tinkerer is any gifted in the maintenance department; but he’ll outdo any upgrade with a toothpick and package tape and make it work if that’s the only things available.

BIOGRAPHY

There’s never a need for anything to be fixed if the world remains perfect. Those phrases that cover the ‘if it’s not broken don’t fix it’ never really apply to Amhaven – in Rex’s history, never has.

Never short is the demand for skilled hands; quick fingers that have developed based on a world gone mad.

Goggles on, sparks alight like fireworks spraying directly from the ends of Junkrat’s fingers; he’s constructing. Machinery in brutalised hands and a lazy kind of roll of his head side to side like he’s impatient to finishing this particular project. Always the mechanic, likes to think he’s often the best of them. Anyone else is a lesser – comes to be why he’s always remained fairly isolated, rooted himself in places nobody else dares risk; a building (like most of them in the concrete jungle) on the brink of collapse; perfect headquarters for privacy, to build a retreat from stolen tarps and sticks. Old timber that’s got such rot through it that even woodworm doesn’t want to touch it. Metal, bone and the world at the scrapper’s fingertips; his haven.

Kaizen remembers his early years – sort of, a collection of memories compiled of gathering trinkets and gizmos that he wrestled with concaved vehicles for. Once wore a truck’s steering wheel like it was a new age war accessory – popped out the centre, acted like he was some kind of Havoc (also, a stolen shredded zone one relic of a comic book that he lost in two days to his own fire friendly hands.) Though, it stuck, as did the vision of his first taste in the Junker, Raider clash – he’d never seen a nose pop like a grape til then either, splat; a sound that really buries deep into the core of anyone. Crunch of ivory beneath Ransacker’s boots that had once belonged to his guardians; mentors; parents and fast does Rex learn some things simply cannot be fixed with even the fastest, adroit fingers.

Death’s permanent – no fixing that.

Scrambles away from the wreckage, a slick coating of red that decorates skin and clings like oil to every crevasse. It stains, both physically and mentally and if souls were ever an interest to someone like Junkrat, it probably has a mark there too. If only as a fuel to the man’s vigilance to the way of being a junker; more than just shiny things and scrap metal to be forged and utilised to self-serving purposes, an adaptable lifestyle that Kaizen blossomed into and now – in adulthood, understands rivalry with R&R and all its complications.

Though, the chaos is also welcomed when Cyrex has his gadgets in place like mines on a field. He often watches with botched binoculars in one hand from the rooftop of an abadoned multi-storey, legs swung over the edge with something to snack on in his other hand. It’s like cinema, the way incoming Raiders intend to… raid – so Rex assumes, and there’s just explosions followed by traps that provide all levels of lethality. A kind of wry smile as he throws offchunks of meat into his mouth and chews with amusement as stolen trucks attempt to barrage in and end upturned in a ditch; flames dancing along the dry grass in some mad max-esque carnage.

Friday night entertainment at its finest.

Deserved after a hard working week as recruited mechanic at CHQS – ha.

But yes, he does do that too, snags a spot in the mechanic ranks and enjoys the minimal joyride of liberating labrats whilst he’s maintaining the safety of those traveling between. How he got there – questionable. What isn’t, is how adept he is at doing it. Therefore, the carbuncle that he is in homemade tarp cargos and some form of fabric adoring his torso; a kind of armouring of metal and scrap that seems haphazard in its placement (though entirely logical if Junkrat were to think on it) are certainly, even in Amhaven, not the best of business attire, but it works. The scrapper always remains glad that his only requirement in the building is maintenance; tinkering upgrades that have every kind of ability to be less lackluster, more dangerously eccentric.

Tess Tickle as his right hand lady; lucky charm; never does his tinkering fail.

Until well, sometimes, it does.

And he has to go back and repair it.

Cue the sounds of thunder when he approaches in his jacked rover with enough modifications that would kill half the zone if the vehicle were to explode. Don’t touch it, he’ll probably show you how many uses a screwdriver actually has.

CONNECTIONS

RAMESES "RA" EL AYOUBI | Other half; the Mother to the Rat Pack Collective where Junkrat’s the father. (In Rex’s opinion.) Chaos fuelled duo that has probably been responsible for at least sixty percent of both missing objects and rats that eventually end up in The Collective; living in the shared homebase (the one that’s not on Rex’s rooftop because... Ra says he needs... walls.) within a formerly desolate Chuck ‘E’ Cheese sign. Kaizen’s built a runway for the RPC out of it, a few acquired and repaired neon bulbs very reflective of Z1 in the odd letterings. Yes, Ra and Junkrat (more Junkrat... probably) are this delinquent-like at most times. And yes, they really did argue about walls; their first domestic one could say.  

FURTHER DEPTH

Named his rover/machine of a car, Hyena because, sometimes feral; sometimes doesn’t listen; often acts out and well; makes a lot of noise. 

Will greet you with a wrench in the shoulder, or a spanner to the stomach. Ultimately depends what he has in his hands when you look at him odd. 

Odd does indeed mean just be in his general vicinity. 

On a good day, he might grin and look more like he might either kiss you (not that you’d want to) or ask you to race him and Tess Tickle to the meeting room. Yes, the one he definitely should not be in. 

Almost always covered in grease, oil, lubricant, some other unidentified roadside substance and excess foodstuffs if not all at the same time. 

Don’t mention the smell. He can’t fix that, it’s natural. 

Probably replaces most civility with unpleasantries in regards to verbal communication, otherwise, he’s probably throwing peanuts at someone when waiting for something to boot up and he can work on it.

Generally goes by Junkrat due to many obvious traits, also does carry Tess Tickle around in a lil self-made backpack-like cage with a totally safe exercise wheel to keep her entertained during transport if she wants to go out on days. 

Yes, he talks to the rats, there’s a whole liberated Rat Pack Collective. Where did they all come from? Don’t worry about it. Ask Ra. 

Wears everything out of Mad Max, scraps of brown and dirtied attire that makes him look like a wilderness explorer; totally on brand, absolutely his style, the red stains... don’t recommend asking about those either. 

TBA

QUICK LINKS

THREADS

SELF PARAS

MUSINGS

CHQS

[writingvultures]

Day 31: Lost amongst the graves

Tess doesn’t  understand why they agreed to meet up at Blackwood Cemetery after spring break but they did. She doesn’t live far from the Cemetery in question but she’s also never seen any kind of burial take place there but there’s always new gravestones neatly lining it’s walkways 

It’s already half past ten when she approaches the looming gate of the Blackwood Cemetery where the rest of her friends have gathered. As she walks down the street she looks up at the metal statues that act as pillars every few feet in the fence that surrounds the cemetery. Their dark metal faces are so detailed it feels like their eyes follow her as she walks past them.

“Tess, you're finally here!” Milli rushes forward and wraps her thin around Tess’s neck. “We can finally move away from this creepy gate.” She looks up at the two statues that stand either side of the main gate. They’re taller than the others, both standing with spears in hand.

“Oh yeah sure the gates are creepy but the fact that we're going into a cemetery to hang out isn’t?” Micah pipes up shifting his weight from foot to foot “You know I don’t like creepy.”

His girlfriend, Tyra gently slaps him on the arm “Quite being a big baby. Graveyards aren’t creepy, they're actually quite peaceful.”

Beau next to them rolls his eyes as he adjusts the oversized bag on his back, “Says the girl who hangs out in graveyards as a pastime.”

Tyra hits him in the shoulder much harder than she hit Micah, but shakes her hand when they slam into the solid muscle of his arm. “It’s not a pastime, it's a muse.” She retorts holding out her camera.

“Do we have everything?” Milli asks abruptly, changing the topic.

“I got pineapple soda and salt n’ vinegar chips for Micah, An Arizona and shrimp chips for Tyra, Mountain dew and white cheddar popcorn for Tess, water and some granola bars for myself, and a gatorade and some veggie straws for you.” He looks at Milli “Also got a bunch of shit from that fast food place on the way here.”

“You get their nuggets?” Micah pipes up

“You know I did.” Beau replies

“Alright enough dallying, lets go.” Milli cheers as she leads the charge through the gate. Beau shakes his head with a sigh, Micah grabs hold of Tyra’s hand as she fiddles with her camera. Tess is slow to follow them, taking one last look at the loom statues at the gate, even as she enters she looks back at them a few times.

The pathways are nestles between gravestones making her steps hesitant, not wanting to accidentally step on someone's grave, ahead of her Milli reads off the names and dates of a few of the graves they pass

“Grace Adkins, 1903 to 19064. Della Keller, 1921 to 1994. Allan Boyd, 1908 to 1976. Leo Nash, 1931 to 1939. Aw he was only eight when he died.” Milli pauses in front of the grave of the young boy.

“Not like we can do much about that.” Beau says walking past her.

“Well it’s still sad to think about.” Milli says falling into step next to him.

“Then don’t think about it.” he says simply.

It’s almost comical to see the two walk together, Beau’s impressive stature and build makes Milli look more smaller and petit than she already is, she’s practically jogging to keep up with his languid stride.

“Hey Tess, this one happened this year, did you catch the funeral.” Tyra asks, camera stowed away in her messenger bag, arm wrapped around an uncomfortable Micah’s waist.

"I didn’t, the neighborhood's always quiet. I’ve actually never seen anyone in this place before.” She says approaching the gravestone, it’s nothing fancy just like the others it just had names and dates carved into the light stone. Milli Crane, 2003-2020. Just like she suspected, its of someone she doesn't know.

“Weird.” She here’s Tyra mutter under her breath before she pulls Micah to follow Beau.

They settle down under a tree across the way from another statue that stands atop a fountain in a small clearing. It almost seems to struggle to pump out thin trickles of murky water. Beau sets out the blanket that's wholly unnecessary and begins to hand out their snacks. “Don’t know why I have veggie straws or a gatorade but anyone can take them if they want.” He says as he looks through his bag. No one speaks up.

Tess is stuffing her face with popcorn when she realizes that someone is missing, but she cant remember who. Her eyes trail over the people she’s with. Tyra, Micah, Beau, herself and the girl next to Beau. She shakes her head and counts again, there were only four of them when they came into the cemetery so who is the girl next to Beau.

She doesn’t get to voice her concerns before she’s distracted by the gross sound Micah makes as he tastes a shrimp chip.  She and Tyra laugh at his overt display of disgust. That’s right Tyra wanted to help ease her boyfriend into being in grave yards and dragged her along to be a third wheel. She adjusts her legs from under her before they get too cramped and knocks over a flask of water.

She lays back on the blanket closing her eyes enjoying her popcorn and mountain dew. She didn't move again until she had to pee. She checks her phone for the time only to find it dead, she could have sworn it was fully charged before she left. She’s sure it’s close to midnight and her parents are probably wondering where she is. She sits up and is startled by the four strangers sitting around her frozen in motion like they were chatting just moments before. She doesn’t have any friends, much less any that would want to come to the cemetery with her. She came to get away from all the noise and to clear her head before she went back to school the next day.

“What the fuck.” She whispers to herself more than to the frozen stranger. “What’s happening.”

“You’ve passed through the gate.” She turns around to face the statue above the fountain. Inky black rivulets flow down from the statue's dark eyes, pooling into the basin below. The statue's head tilts as it speaks “And now you are trapped here.”

---------

I did it, it’s the end of the month and I didn’t miss a single day. I enjoyed this little project and want to someday revisit these characters. i really like how this last day turned out, it’s my longest writing for this challenge. Under the cut is a but of clarification who’s who cause there’s a lot of names that get thrown around.

----------

Just a bit more information about the story, there are only six characters though out these stories, and a few of them go by many names depending on who’s pov it is so this is just to clear up a bit of confusion.

There’s Niros, the god of death who is called Ruby by Asher and Lord by Stag

Stag was Lord Marshall and Moth was Noah.

Ninir, didn’t get a new name and was instead just referred to as Tree Being or Mountain Being depending on the time. And Asher after becoming a Minor for Tree Being didn’t choose a new name, nor does he remember his old one.

The boy who became the Gate wasn't given a name beyond being called the boy or the gate

[mojofun]

One Last Time (Sebastian Stan x OC)

So, this story is part of a fantastic writing challenge. I decided to partcipate, and this is the story I wrote about our one and only Sebastian Stan, based on the prompt “One last time”

Beware: tooth-rotting fluff ahead. Proceed with caution.

JK ;)

Give it a read if you want and I hope you enjoy it as much as I did writing it; let me know what you think and shoutout to @kitkatd7 for launching this writing challenge. Check out their account if you want to participate :)

_______________________________________________________________________

<<Tess, darling, we need to go!>> A woman with curly caramel hair shouted, looking at a little girl who was having the time of her life on the swing.

The woman was smiling adoringly. It warmed her heart to see the child so happy, but she needed to go grocery shopping before the stores closed for lunchtime break

<<But mommy, I’m having so much fun!>> The kid protested with a pout, slowing down her movements until she came to a halt

<<Tess…>>

The poor mother trailed off when her daughter fixed her wide, innocent jade green eyes on her, pursing her lips. The woman sighed, brushing her daughter’s strawberry blond hair out of her small face

<<I can see you’re enjoying yourself my dear, but we need to go shopping. Besides, other children want to go on the swing, and it’s not fair for you to hog it>>

Tess flinched, lowering her head guiltily.

Then, she noticed a little boy that was standing a few feet from her, staring expectantly.

He wants to go on the swing, the little girl thought. Mommy was right

Determined to make up for her selfishness, Tess approached the other child bashfully

<<Hi! Sorry for not letting you have a go, I just… Lost track of time>>

The boy smiled reassuringly, shaking his head

<<No problem, don’t worry>>

<<Why didn’t you say anything?>>

He shrugged

<<You were enjoying yourself too much; I didn’t want to disturb you>>

<<Oh>>

The little girl blushed at that statement. She took in his appearance, from the baby blue eyes to the blondish-brown hair and adorable smile that he was still giving her.

It brought one to her face as well

He’s so nice

<<Thank you, that’s very sweet. Anyway, it’s your turn now>>

He beamed, thanking her before walking past her toward the coveted swing.

Suddenly, just when he was about to sit on it, he stopped and turned to face her again

<<Why don’t you go again?>>

<<What?>>

<<One last time>>

Tess gasped, amazed that a stranger was being so nice to her. Normally, kids were so selfish- the thought made her blush darken even more.

He’s so, so nice

<<Really? You don’t mind?>>

<<It’s ok: I’m spending the afternoon here, so I’ll have a lot of time to go on this swing>>

He shrugged again, still smiling at her.

Before she could register what was going on, Tess threw herself at the boy with her arms open, hugging him tightly

<<Thank you, thank you very much>>

A few moments went by before she realised what she’d done. She tried to disentangle herself, but he hugged her back before she could

<<You’re welcome. Now go, or your mom will make you leave>>

They pulled apart

<<Before I go, what’s your name?>>

<<Sebastian. Yours?>>

<<Tess. Nice to meet you, Sebastian>>

<<Right back to you, Tess>> He grinned at her, giving her a slight push <<Now go, hurry!>>

She ran back to the swing, smiling so much that her cheeks hurt.

<<Mommy, will we come back tomorrow?>> Tess asked her mother while they pulled over by the store. The woman chuckled

<<Of course, my dear. Why do you ask? Do you want to see that boy again?>>

For the third time that day, the blonde child felt her cheeks heat up in flames

<<Oh, darling, don’t be embarrassed>>

<<You’re mean>>

<<I’ll buy you some chocolate milk to make up for my teasing, alright?>>

The mother knew those were the magic words to get her daughter to smile again, and that’s what happened

<<Yes, thank you>>

<<You’re welcome, honey.

By the way, that boy was very kind to you. Did you get his name?>>

Her daughter grinned, nodding vehemently

<<It’s->>

_______________________________________________________________________

<<Sebastian Stan!>> Tess shouted, stomping inside the man’s apartment with a deadly glare.

The unaware offender was relaxing on his couch, watching tv. When she burst in he almost jumped to the ceiling, dropping the remote

<<Tess! What the hell?>>

<<You!>> She hollered again, threateningly pointing at him with her index <<You little->>

<<What did I do?>> He pleaded, confused and worried. She pushed a piece of paper against his chest with a huff

<<How could you just drop the invitation to your premiere at my apartment without even telling me?>>

Finally, the cause behind her temper was revealed. Sebastian deflated, feeling instantly relieved; so relieved in fact, that he laughed in her face.

Wrong move. His friend glared at him even more, bearing down on him

<<You think it’s funny, you airhead? I have nothing to wear! I need to get my hair done, and my nails, and->>

<<Sweetie>> The actor began, trying to calm her down with a smile and a soft pat to the back <<it’s fine>>

<<No it’s not. Us mortals need to->>

<<I know some people that can help you, don’t worry.>>

Just like that, Tess went from upset to flabbergasted

<<You do- You wa- What?>>

He tried to, he really did; he mustered all his abilities as an actor that he’d acquired through the years, but even that was not enough.

Thus, seeing his best friend so stunned, Sebastian couldn’t help bursting into hysterics, throwing his head back and plonking down on the couch

<<Your face! I wish I had a camera!>>

<<You suck>> She retaliated, no real hard feelings in her voice.

After a few minutes, during which the female enjoyed watching him laugh, he pulled himself together and took her hands in his

<<Darling, all will be ok; just trust me. Will you?>>

He received an eye-roll and a nod in response. Ignoring the former, he concentrated on the latter and stood up

<<Perfect. Let me get my phone, I’ll arrange everything. You sit back and relax>>

Tess snorted, reclining on the couch

<<Damn right you will: you got me in this pretty pickle, you’ll sort it out>>

<<You suck>>

<<You wish>> She teased with a wink

_______________________________________________________________________

<<Mr Stan, over here!>>

<<Mr Stan!>>

<<Sebastian, can I have a word?>>

Flashes were going off everywhere, but he didn’t mind anymore; he was used to it. The overwhelming attempts by reporters to interview him did not bother him much either, probably because he was distracted.

In fact, any observer would have noticed him staring at the road expectantly, anticipation oozing from his every pore.

He was waiting for Tess.

In the years after their encounter at the park, the two of them had become the best of friends. Both he and Tess began to ask their mothers to go back to the park with insistence, until it became a sort of tradition; the two women even exchanged numbers at some point, so they could organise playdates for the two kids.

Playdates.

That word made him shiver.

He was incredibly happy to have met the strawberry-blonde: she was an amazing friend, always there for him, supportive and ready to give him a kick where the sun don’t shine if he needed it. The thought of all their late-night conversations, her pep talks before his auditions, the number of times they went to the park -and on that very same swing- even as grown adults…

It brought a huge smile on his face.

He relished each and every memory, thankful to have in his life someone so amazing.

That’s why he was so mad at himself.

In fact, there was a not-so-small secret that he kept from his best friend: he’d fallen in love with her.

The actor was incredibly mad at himself, afraid to ruin a friendship he valued more than anything with a slip of the tongue; if it happened, he’d never forgive himself. Thus, he’d resorted to wallowing in his pain, settling for being her best pal rather than a stranger.

No matter his job, however, he continuously wondered how long his lie would last.

Every time it came to mind, he shivered.

Finally, another car nosed its way along the pavement before coming to a halt.

When the door opened, Sebastian felt his breath leave his lungs in a whoosh.

Was that vision really his Tess, the tomboy who preferred mud splashes to makeup? She was always beautiful, but that night… She was magnificent.

The dress she wore -which she’d kept from him until the last moment, much to his chagrin- was a splendid, shimmering black gown, with an extremely steep neckline that was offset by discreet, nude-coloured fabric decorated with small rhinestones; the slit in the skirt was vertiginous, and it showed her shapely leg and the black heels she’d chosen. With her waist-length hair curled in doll-like locks and blood-red lips on the lips that distracted him so often, she looked like a goddess straight out of his dreams.

The smile she gave him when their eyes met only reinforced that impression; he felt his heart flutter, watching her step closer to him

<<Sebastian! Hi, how are you?>>

<<Hi. I’m->> He harrumphed <<I’m good thanks. You look amazing tonight, by the way>>

Is that blush on her cheeks?

<<Thank you. You clean up nice too>> She whispered timidly.

He smiled at her, straightening his red tie and the lapels of the dark grey jacket he wore. Then, he offered her his arms

<<Shall we go, my lady?>>

The posh accent he used made her giggle; in reality, it was also due to his gallant gesture.

The young woman tried to mimic his pronunciation when gave him her arm and replied

<<Indeed, good sir>>

They went in the theatre together, laughing like the children they were.

_______________________________________________________________________

<<Thank you for the wonderful evening, Seb. I had a wonderful time>>

Tess murmured, standing on the steps of her apartment where he’d accompanied her.

The blue-eyed man looked at his best friend with a slight smile. In reality, he was fighting an internal battle. Namely, he was trying to suppress that nagging voice in the back of his head that screamed for him to just take her in his arms and kiss her

<<You’re welcome, doll; I’m glad you enjoyed the night>>

The blonde beauty giggled again

<<Doll, uh? Your character’s really getting to you>>

<<Don’t you like it?>> He purred with a smirk

<<I must admit I do, a lot. It’s better than munchkin anyway>>

<<Not my fault you are so short; even now you don’t reach my chin, and you’re wearing high heels>>

In response to his teasing, he received a playful whack on the shoulder with her purse

<<You suck>> She snorted.

<<You wish>> He chuckled too, fending off her numerous attempts to hit him again.

Their laughter died after a while, and they stood there in silence, staring into each other’s eyes. Seconds, minutes which seemed hours passed, but they stayed like that.

Suddenly, he just couldn’t take it anymore.

In the blink of an eye, Tess found herself enveloped in Sebastian’s strong arms; before she could ask what was going on, his lips found hers and he kissed her passionately, holding her tight against his body.

The brunette felt like he would burst, both for the affection he had for the woman he was currently kissing and for the shame he felt as he slowly pulled away, forcing his eyes open even if he didn’t want to see the revulsion on her face.

The sight in front of him made his blood run cold: she was petrified, eyes blown wide and mouth slightly agape.

Gulping, Sebastian tried to salvage what he could. Mentally cursing himself in every language he knew, he stuttered an apology

<<Tess, I’m sorry… I- I don’t know what came over me>>

<<…>>

This is it, he groused. This time I’ve done it; I destroyed our friendship. She’ll never want to see me again after this

<<Uh, Tess? Are you ok?>>

The woman was still silent, staring at him like he’d grown a third eye.

I would have preferred a reaction. Shouting, a slap in the face… Anything but this

Broken-hearted, the brown-haired man delicately cupped her cheeks in his hands, taking a steadying breath before speaking

<<Doll, I’m sorry, but I couldn’t help myself. I’ve had a major crush on you, for years now, and I…

It’s ok if you don’t feel the same, I don’t expect anything from you. I just… There’s one thing I want to do>>

The green-eyed woman was still unresponsive, and it only unnerved him further

<<I want to kiss you again. One last time>>

Not bothering to wait for a reply that would probably never come, Sebastian leaned in and pressed his lips against Tess’ red ones in the most delicate, romantic kiss either of them ever had.

It only lasted a moment though: he wasn’t brave enough to push her any further, no matter how much he wanted. Besides, it didn’t feel fair.

With a sigh that promised tears to come, the tall man gave her a sad smile before bidding her goodnight and turning to walk away.

He got as far as the gate before a flurry of black launched herself at him, effectively immobilising him

<<Seb! Don’t go, wait a second. I have something to say>>

He arched an eyebrow, trying to support the painting woman that was wobbling unsteadily on her heels

<<Damn, these things are hell to run in>>

<<I’m not sure they were made with that purpose in mind>> He joked, confused by her behaviour.

The young woman pulled herself together again and grinned at him, taking his face in her hands

<<First of all->>

His eyes grew the size of saucers when her lips found his for the third time that night. He didn’t fight it, both because he never would and he was paralysed at the moment. When she pulled away he saw her huge smile, and it puzzled him even more

<<I wanted to kiss you one last time too>>

Those few words broke him even more than he already was.

His expression must have been a clear sign of that, because the blonde was shaking her head and speaking again

<<One last time as friends. Because I want to kiss you as my boyfriend from now on>>

The world stopped. Sebastian stood there, trying to come to terms with what she told him

One last time as friends. Because I want to kiss you as my boyfriend from now on

Did that mean…

<<D- Doll… D- Does that mean->>

<<Yes, it does>> She hushed him, snickering at his disconcertment <<Now shut up and kiss me again>>

The smile that spread on his face was immense. Finally, the actor went back to his usual, jovial self and pulled her even closer, tenderly tucking a rebellious strand of her luscious mane behind her ear

<<With pleasure>>

Their lips met again.

This time though, it was different. This time they both knew what the other wanted and, most importantly, what the other wanted. This time they knew their love was reciprocated, and it made them smile in the kiss.

When they pulled away they both beamed at each other

<<My girlfriend>>

<<My boyfriend>>

<<I guess it was not the last time>>

<<In a way. But this was the first time>>

<<Mh, I want more; come here>>

They stood there, by the gate, kissing like there was no tomorrow; it was a way to make up for lost time, to soothe the hurt they’d unintentionally caused each other. It didn’t matter who’d waited the longest, who’d been the most oblivious or who made the first move. What did matter was that they were in love, and in love there is no space for last times.

@kitkatd7