#WHY are you following me every time i come past i am NOT A CICADA

[hellenhighwater]

I have to pay the baby tax to get my purse so I can go back to the office. Taxes are three (3) forehead kisses, which is unbelievable in this economy. Cmon, Malice, cut me a break.

[milkiane]

matters the most

pairings: rafe cameron x reader

warnings: profanities, mentions of alcoholic beverages, sexual comments

word count: 1996

request: give me rafe angst with prompt "god, i can't even look at you"

a/n: all the love to @s1ater as always, and thank you to @iwritesiriusly for being the best <3

love is such a concept that most people would often dream of, wanting the full experience of having butterflies in your stomach, fireworks erupting with every kiss, the messy and complicated rollercoaster ride. everything about love just sounds so beautiful.

love brings two people, from strangers, or enemies, or life-long friends, together and creates sheer happiness and adoration for each other, but love is never always about all that cliché domesticity. sometimes it’s all about the thrill and the danger that it brings along.

it was funny, really. how rafe, who wasn’t afraid to express his hatred for pogues, fell for one. love did work in mysterious ways, they said.

neither of you knew how you lasted for 8 months without getting caught, but both of you knew that the fun wouldn’t last for long before something would come in between.

he didn’t know that his dad and rose would be home earlier than they said. he thought he’d have the house to himself, that’s why he invited you to come. amidst a steamy make-out sesh did they walk in, followed by an argument between the two men. you awkwardly stood behind rafe, lips swollen and cheeks red as rose glared at you.

it didn’t end well, but when does it ever? forbidden love had its perks, but it also had its downfalls. ward demanded to break off whatever liaison his son had with you, whilst still raving about his disdain for the likes of you and how rafe turned out to be just like his disappointment of a sister. rafe decided that he’s had enough and stormed off with you.

that’s why rafe was in the cut at the dead of the night, standing in front of the chateau.

he shook his head, bringing out his phone to give you a call as he brought the large blanket closer to his chest.

incoming call: rafey <3

groaning, you reached out your hand and blindly patted around your bed for your ringing phone. the brightness of your phone glaring at you to the degree, making you hiss.

“rafe? it’s 2 in the morning, why the-” you grumbled, eyes fluttering close as sleep started to glaze over.

“come outside, babe. i’m on your front porch,” he said, taking in the sight of it before silently muttering, “if you could even call it a porch.”

“shut up, rafe,” you groaned, ending the call as you threw your blankets to the side and leaving your warm sanctuary to see your boyfriend. quietly making your way past john b’s room and jj, who was sleeping on the couch.

“what are you doing here?” you asked, wrapping your arms around his torso as he placed a kiss on your temple.

“wanted to come see you, we don’t know to what extent my dad’ll go to make us break up, so let’s make the most of our time,” he shrugged, reaching out for your hand, he intertwined your fingers together and dragged you towards an open space.

rafe unfolded the blanket and spread it out, laying down on it as he opened his arms to invite you in.

snuggling into his embrace, you smiled softly, “you know, i’m usually the one who sneaks out to see you,”

he chuckled, his chest vibrating as he did, “yeah, but we gotta have some change now, i guess,”

you sighed, nuzzling deeper into his arms, “imagine if the clash between the kooks and pogues never existed, if the odds were in our favor, we would have lived happily,”

“we’ll get married,” rafe started, then tilted his head to look down at you, “a beach wedding, d’you want a beach wedding?”

“yeah,” you grinned, playing with the rings on his fingers, “then we’ll have two kids and a dog, and a house in between figure 8 and the cut,”

silence surrounded the both of you, sad smiles on your faces as you looked up at the twinkling stars. the chirping of cicadas and the rustling of the trees serving as a piece of calming music.

after a while, rafe began to speak up again, “are you… are you sure that this is worth all the secrecy, y/n?”

you furrowed your eyebrows, removing yourself from his hold to you look at him, “what?”

he sighed, running a hand through his hair, “i just- we knew it would end one way or another, right?”

you paused, trying to let his words sink in before asking him, “what’re you trying to say, rafe?”

by now, he was already sitting up, “i’m just saying that we just got lucky that we lasted for nearly a year. i mean, it’s far-fetched, you’re a pogue, and i’m a kook. it would have been easier if you were like me,”

you scoffed pathetically, “oh, so it’s my fault now that i was born a pogue? well, i’m sorry that i couldn’t control how life works, that i have to work my ass off 24/7 to keep myself surviving,”

“you know that’s not what i meant, baby, it’s just that-“ rafe groaned, he didn’t know what else to say because that’s exactly what he meant.

“then what is it, rafe? you don’t know how hard it is to work multiple jobs just to keep yourself afloat, it’s unfair how we didn’t choose to live like this, yet you kooks torment us for trying to have food to serve on our tables,” you fumed, “so i’m sorry that we don’t have golden spoons sticking out of our mouths or that our daddies don’t give us whatever the hell we want,”

“i can’t believe you doubted us for even a second,” you sighed, rubbing your eyes to keep your tears from falling, “do you think this was all easy for me, rafe? because no, it wasn’t, but i still loved you with all that i am, with all that i have, because i knew that we’ll get through this.”

“y/n-”

“god, i can’t even look at you right now,” you stood up, grabbing your phone as you made your way back to the chateau, tears gathering in your eyes.

“y/n, wait, c’mon-”

rafe grabbed your arm, but you immediately removed it from his grasp as you whipped around, “you know, i may not have a lot to offer, but i knew that i made you happy and i loved you an awful lot, so i’m sorry if that wasn’t enough.”

you let the tears fall this time, looking at him one more time before going in and slamming the door shut, making jj jump up in surprise, “y/n?”

rafe stood there for a moment, trying to shake away the broken look on your face from his mind. he sauntered after you, knocking aggressively at the front door, “y/n, c’mon, i’m sorry, baby.”

john b rushed out of his room, jumbled and confused as he held the bat up, “wha-?”

you shoved him away and hurried back to your room. the two boys exchanged looks before opening the door. to say that they were shocked to see a disheveled rafe cameron on their doorstep was an understatement, “what the fuck are you doing in here, cameron?”

he ignored them and tried to push past them, “get outta the way, pogues,”

but they weren’t having it, they pushed him back with a glare. he scoffed, looking back once more before slowly backing off, grabbing the blanket before speeding away on his motorbike.

you wouldn’t choose to be here if you had a choice, but alas, if it means working at the midsummers and earning a decent salary with free champagne to drown your sorrows in, then you might just have to.

so, clad in a waitress’s apparel, too tight for your liking, and a tray of glasses of champagne in hand, you maneuvered your way towards the old uppity haughty kooks.

at a respectable distance, rafe was looking at you with a sad look on his face, wanting nothing more than to wrap you in his arms and tell you how sorry he is and how he loves you so much.

it was when topper’s voice snapped him out of his trance, “have you seen l/n’s ass in that uniform? i would’ve done her right then and there if she wasn’t a pogue,”

the sounds of his friends’ laughters fumed him, but instead of saying anything, he shot up out of his seat and approached you.

you momentarily glanced at him and swallowed, “champagne?”

he grabbed the glass that you shoved at his chest, fingers grazing over another, “y/n, please, i just want to talk,”

“i’m not here for you, cameron,” you caught a glimpse of his friends slowly approaching the both of you, sniggering from behind him, “i’m here to earn some money, so if you’ll excuse me,”

but before you could even make your way around them, topper and kelce harshly knocked on your shoulders, the tray of glasses breaking into pieces as it fell.

“watch it, pogue,”

gasps were heard across the room, as you staggered back from the force. you heard pope and jj run towards you, john b and kiara excusing themselves from the guests to follow.

you let out a shaky breath, crouching down to pick up the pieces as ward slowly walked over to scold you.

as they continued to laugh, they risked a glance to see a livid rafe glaring at them instead of laughing along with them, and with that, their laughter died down, a look of confusion replacing their amusement.

rafe looked around, catching the eye of his father who stopped in his tracks, a glint in his eye as if he was daring him to go help you, to ruin their family’s reputation.

without a single doubt, he took the broken shards from your hold and raised you up by your arms, earning another round of gasps from the crowd.

he looked at you, silently asking for permission. when a small smile tugged your lips, he leaned in slowly, closing in the proximity of your lips. your arms wrapped around his neck as his own wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer.

as you heard his father’s footsteps, rafe pulled away and grabbed your arm, sprinting into a run.

“rafe!”

the both of you burst into laughter as you dashed through the crowd, hands still intertwined as you looked for a quiet spot.

you stopped at their backyard, fairy lights hung from tree to tree, and the music from the platform softly echoing. trying to catch a breath, you let your head fall on his chest. rafe’s hand ran through your hair, “i’m sorry, y/n,”

“rafe-”

“no, no. i’m sorry, i didn’t mean what i said, okay? i love you too much,” he cupped your face in his hands, his thumb caressing the apple of your cheeks, “i’ll gladly give up the life i have right now if it means spending it with you. none of this luxury would compare to you, no amount of money would make me happy as you do.”

you pulled him into another kiss, running a hand through his hair. it was slow, sensual, something different from the type of intimacy you often did, as though if you rushed things, you’d open your eyes to see that everything was just a dream. rafe brought you closer than possible, a hand resting the other on the small of your back and on your hip, rubbing slow circles on the exposed skin.

pulling away slowly, you whispered a hoarse, “i love you, rafe cameron,”

he smiled softly, swaying slowly to the distant music. an aura of love and sovereignty enveloping the both of you in a bubble of your own. none of you cared about the rivalry anymore, or his father, or what other people would say. let them talk.

it wouldn’t bother you, because you had each other, and that’s what matters the most.

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[ragingbookdragon]

And I Will Still Be Here Stargazing PT. 2

A Batsis x Batfamily Story!

Word Count: 1.4K Warnings: Explicit Language, Mentions of Past Assault

Author's Note: Gotta start it slow and get into it! Hope y'all are enjoying so far! -Thorne

**********************************************************************

You’ve been missing for an entire week.

That entire statement had her ushered into a side room of GCPD while Gordon called her family, and all she could to was let the officers poke and prod at her whilst asking her questions about what happened to her all week. Expect she had no idea how to respond. She hadn’t been missing for a week, at least that’s what she believed.

When the officer checking her out showed her their phone, she was flabbergasted at the fact that sure enough, an entire week had passed between that night and now. She couldn’t wrap her head around it and she could tell some of the officers were getting annoyed with her lack of explanation.

“Probably out getting bent in a high riser all week. We should test her for cocaine and ecstasy.”

Her head shot up and she glowered at the two officers snickering just outside the door. “I wasn’t doing drugs, you assholes.” They stopped laughing and gaped at her, and suddenly she realized that she’d heard their whispering from that far. Her cheeks warmed and she looked back down to avoid their stares.

“Miss (Y/N), we should get you to the hospital to do a rape kit.”

She glanced at the officer beside her. “I wasn’t assaulted, ma’am.”

“You never know,” she explained. “It’s always better to be safe than—”

(Y/N) reached out and put her hand on her arm. “I wasn’t assaulted. I don’t know what—” something flashed across her mind, a memory, or a nightmare rather, the same officer before her, drowsy and helpless, locked in a room with a coworker. She yanked her hand away, understanding why; swallowing thickly, she murmured, “I’m fine. I just need to talk to my family.”

“Are you sure?” the officer asked, concern evident all over her face. “There’s no shame in asking for help.”

“Yeah, I’m fi—”

“(Y/N)!”

She looked up, seeing her family running towards her; (Y/N) was on her feet in seconds, colliding with her dad, arms wrapping around his waist as he placed one on the back of her head, holding her close. Her brothers and sister crowded around her, all holding tight to their missing sister.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he whispered harshly, unshed tears in his voice. “We’ve been so worried about you.”

Tears gathered in her eyes at the fear in his voice and she swallowed thickly. “I don’t know what’s going on, dad. I’ve been missing for a week?”

“You don’t remember?” Dick questioned lowly in her ear so no one could hear, and she shook her head.

“No. All I remember is seeing the comet that night and then…I was waking up the next morning.” She turned her head so she could see her eldest brother’s face. “A week has apparently passed but I don’t know how.”

Bruce hummed, pulling away from her and he took her face in his hands, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “We’ll talk about it at home,” he assured and stood back, glancing at Gordon. “Thank you for finding her, Commissioner.”

Gordon huffed and ran a hand through his hair. “We didn’t. She found us.”

(Y/N) smiled awkwardly. “Am I free to go home, Commissioner Gordon?”

“You were never not allowed, Miss (Y/N).” He stepped close and rested a hand on her shoulder as he murmured, “But I do think you should go to the hospital.”

“But I’m not—”

“We’ll have Doctor Leslie come to the manor for a personal check up.” Bruce interrupted and she internally thanked her father.

“Of course, Mister Wayne.” Gordon said. “Drive safely.”

Bruce rested his hand on her shoulders and ushered her out of the building and into the car.

***

What was she missing? Obviously, the entire week between then and now, but God, what was it? What had happened between then and now? Had she slept through an entire week? It wasn’t possible. Her family would’ve found her and brought her back. So, what really happened to her? Maybe she had been abducted or something? But her dad would’ve known the second something had entered Gotham. He always did. So, what—

“(Y/N).”

The firm call of her name shook her from her thoughts and she jerked up, looking at the rear-view mirror and into her dad’s eyes. “Yes sir?”

“We’re home.”

(Y/N) took a moment to gaze at her surroundings, and sure enough, the car was parked in the garage. It was just her and him, so the others must’ve gone inside. “Oh…I guess we are.”

“Come up here a minute.” He said and she crawled into the front seat, resting back against the cushions, eyes directed to the wall before her. “Are you alright? And I mean really alright?”

She didn’t even know at that point; she was so stunned trying to process everything, and she gestured vaguely. “I don’t know, dad.” (Y/N) glanced at him. “I’m not lying to you when I say that I have no idea what happened.”

“What do you remember?” he asked, eyes narrowed in that way that told her he was calculating every word for every scenario possible; that it wasn’t her dad looking for answers, but Batman instead. When she opened her mouth, nothing came out and he reached over, placing a hand over hers, squeezing tightly. “Close your eyes. Start from the very beginning. From the last thing you remember to now.”

(Y/N) nodded and took a deep breath, shutting her eyes. “I remember Alfred dropping me off in the field around seven. The sun was still out, and I had enough time to set up the telescope on the tripod.”

“Keep going. You’re doing good. What did it smell and sound like around you?”

She made a face. “Like a farm. But fresher air. I could hear the cicadas and crickets around. The occasional tractor equipment.” (Y/N)’s eyes shifted beneath her eyelids. “I got bored waiting, so I got on my phone until the sun went down. When the stars came out, I went between looking at the sky through the scope and out of it.”

“Then I called you. Do you remember that?”

“I do,” she nodded. “I talked to you and then I saw the comet.” That’s when things started to fall apart, and she shook her head. “I remember pulling away from the lens but then…the next thing I remember is coming to in the field.” (Y/N) opened her eyes and gazed at her hands. “I must’ve fallen asleep, but I don’t remember getting into my sleeping bag. And I certainly don’t remember sleeping for a week straight.”

Bruce merely stared at her, sighing, “We’ll give it time. Maybe something will come to you the longer you’re awake.”

She shrugged and reached for the door-handle, but when she grabbed it, it curled under her grip, and she froze.

“What was that?” he questioned, and her eyes went wide as she hurriedly bent the handle back.

“Nothing!” (Y/N) clambered out of the car and didn’t even close the car door behind her, running up the steps and into the kitchen where she was met by her siblings who pulled her into another hug that she was helpless to escape from. And she was fairly sure that Dick was sobbing on her shoulder.

***

Leslie frowned at the young woman across the room, gesturing for Bruce to follow her into the kitchen. “You’re not going to like the news.”

“What happened?”

She shook her head. “Nothing. Blood and urinalysis are both clean. So is the assault kit.” Leslie stared at him. “It’s almost like she really slept for an entire week.”

“It’s not possible,” Bruce argued. “We scoured that field and all of Gotham with help from every superhero alive.” He sighed. “Something happened to her. She dropped completely off the grid and suddenly reappeared back on.”

Leslie shrugged. “I don’t know what to tell you, Bruce. I don’t have an explanation for this. She’s healthy as a horse.” She placed a hand on his arm. “But if anything changes, give me a call and I’ll come back.”

He nodded, seeing her out. “Thank you, Leslie.” Bruce closed the door and wandered back into the living room, and though he felt such an inner turmoil over his daughter, the sight of her asleep and sandwiched between all her siblings, being protected by them, made him smile.

[jj-5656]

The Fight

With; Newt (TMR)

A/N: Kind of a long one guys. Thank you again for all the love. I appreciate every like, reblog, and comment. Enjoy!

Warnings: mention of suicidal thoughts/attempt, anxiety, minor panic attack, Minho being an ass (I promise it’s not all depressing and sappy there is a good amount of angst/fluff ofc)

“Bugger off Newt, I want to be left alone.” The boy trails behind as you stomp over to the forest, figuring collecting fertilizer would be better than having to tolerate the pestering blonde any longer.

“Don’t you want someone to keep you company?”

“Am I still speaking English? Leave me be.” It’s been a long day, and a part of you is still getting used to the harsh, mundane work days of the glade since you’re arrival a few months ago. It’s been a lot of pressure, but surprisingly you’ve managed to hold it together. It’s impressive too, you’ve managed to adapt better to your new life better than any other glader had. Perhaps that was why the boy was so drawn to you.

It’s not like he had wanted to be. In fact, Newt would have been more than happy treating you like any other glader. But it just so happened the one and only girl in the glade just had to be a natural track-hoe, so there was no avoiding her. Not her smooth skin, glistening eyes, or her infectious laugh-

“Hello? Would you quit it, shank? It’s like you want to get me jacked.”

“Maybe I just like seeing you all riled up.” You can feel the smirk playing on his stupidly Cherry-red lips as he teases you, quickening his pace so he can grab the straggling branches of the thick forest out of your way. Your stomach flips at his words, but it’s quickly filled with hot anger as the nervousness fades. He won’t quit flirting, and despite your quit wit you’re finding it harder to snap back at him when he says things like that. He doesn’t even mean it

“You’re infuriating!”

“And you’re gorgeous.” The words slip past his tongue before he can catch him, and your footsteps stutter over a stray twig amongst the brush on the ground. You almost trip, but the glader behind you is quick to catch your forearm. It’s silent, and you’re darting your head around just fast enough to catch the stunned look on his face, informing you he hadn’t meant to voice the compliment aloud. Your eyes narrow, trying your best to ignore the longing temptation within you begging to kiss away the stupid blush in his cheeks.

“You know, instead of searching the forest for fertilizer, I should just pick up all the klunk that comes out of your mouth.” The harsh words come without much thought, but you don’t completely regret saying them. If he was actually interested, he wouldn’t be so keen on making you annoyed every minute of every day.

His eyebrows narrow, but if your snarky comment provoked any thought he doesn’t voice it.

“Shuck, sorry then newbie. I’ll slim it.”

“Listen, I was a newbie four greenies ago! So you can stop calling me that.” You spin on your heel to face him, standing your ground when he stops short in order to not run you over. When you meet eyes, he gives a kind smile, studying your features intently. Almost as if you were in a daze, you do the same. Relishing in the sounds of the nature around you and the warm sun beaming through the tree tops, perfectly illuminating the lightest streaks in the taller boy’s hair. You hadn’t notice before, but there are small puddles of gold in his deep brown eyes, speckled about in his irises and disappearing when he tilts his head to the side in feigned curiosity. He licks his lips before letting his accented voice break the silence.

“What’s up with you?”

“What? Nothing.”

“You’ve got that look about you.”

“What look?”

“That look.”

“I don’t have a look.”

“Well, I’m looking at you right now, and you have a look.”

“What look?!” He grins at your suddenly aggravated persistence, holding back a laugh when you let out a dramatic groan and start to tread deeper into the woods. 

Later that night, you’re making conversation with Frypan as you help with the dishes. He’s good company, and most times mundane chores like cleaning up after other gladers seem to fly by when he’s around. You let out a sigh when a familiar hand reaches out to help you take out one of the heavier pots from the drying rack. 

“Didn’t know you were a cook, greenie.”

“Maybe I;’m just trying to avoid you.”

“Impossible, you’d miss me too much.” 

“What do you want, shank.”

“What, I can’t help out too?”

Just then, you’re pulled away by the forearm with a strong yank. Releasing yourself from Mihno’s grip and rubbing the excess suds off of your hands quickly.

“What the hell?”

“Listen, you want him to quit being a shank towards you right?”

“Of course I do Minho, but-“

“Then flirt with me.”

“Wh-what?”

“Flirt with me, squeeze my arm and laugh like I just said something really funny.”

“You’re already saying something funny. You must be jacked.” You attempt to blow your friend off and walk away, but he pulls you toward him again.

“Just humor me for a minute, yeah? Let’s see how riled up this shank gets.”

“Minho, he’s not going to get mad. He lives to annoy me, he’ll be happy to see you’re joining in on the fun!”

“Y/n, you’re not seriously this dense? The poor shank likes you, he’s just got no idea how to show it. The playful banter you two have, although it’s cute, is starting to get old. So, because I’m an amazing friend and wing-man, I’ll help you shanks out. Now squeeze my arm and laugh.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“Don’t believe me?” His challenging smirk is enough for you to give in, determined to prove the raven haired boy wrong. Setting aside your irritated mood, you adjust your hunched stance before giving Minho your most charming smile. Muttering idly and pressing his bicep with a dramatic laugh. He shoots you a glare when you pinch with a little too much passion, but a smirk stays on his face nonetheless. He moves just a bit closer to you, eyes darting across the glade and smile widening.

“See she-bean? He’s practically fuming.” The boy does all he can to contain his laughter, pulling himself together when you offer a subtle glance to the blonde across the glade. He’s leaning against the now empty sink with his arms crossed. Looking too angry to even begin to make his death glare towards Minho any less obvious. Admittedly, you don’t think you’ve seen Newt ever look so flustered. When you lock eyes, his lips remain tightly pressed together. Not long after does he turn back around to continue attending to the dishes. All whilst muttering something under his breath and shaking his head.

“Don’t get so cocky, you’re blushing too you shank.” You swat Mihno’s hand pinching your cheek, genuinely laughing when he nudges you out of the homestead hut.

“I’ll probably be banished by sundown for that.”

“You think he’s really that upset about it? I mean, I know we’re good friends and all but I never expected Newt to see me like that.”

“It’s a good thing I’m one of the only shanks around here with a brain.”

“Y/n, mind if I talk to you for a bit?” Alby approached the pair of you with a soft expression, his gentle nature filling you with a bit of concern. You nod hesitantly, feeling as though every damn glader needed to pull you from one conversation to the next tonight. You follow Alby closely as he leads you back into the homestead, sitting on one of the hammocks and motioning for you to do the same. There’s a contemplative silence before the head glader speaks, only taking him a few moments to gather his thoughts before meeting your eyes.

“I gotta be honest greenie, I’m a bit worried about you.”

“Why me?” Your eyebrows narrow in confusion, and the older boy’s worried tone makes your heart sink.

“Most of the newbies are jacked the first couple weeks. You know, lashing out one minute and crying like a baby the next. But you’ve been quite, collected. That leaves a lot of room for me to be concerned.”

“Alby, you’re upset that I’m not...Upset?”

“I’m upset that you remind me of myself. I was a lot like you, I kept everything in when I first got here. I was reserved, and I kept everything bottled up inside. And I’m no therapist, but that quickly tore me apart. I understand being a girl might...Complicate things, seeing as some of these shanks expect you to be weaker. You don’t have to prove yourself greenie, at least not in that way.” You take a minute to consider his words, chewing on the inside of your cheek in thought. He studies you for a moment, seemingly thinking about his next words with caution. “I don’t mean to jack you up, just think about it.” He finishes carefully, nudging your shoulder with his own before exiting the hut. Giving you a tight lipped smile and curt nod before disappearing from view. Was that supposed to be a pep talk?

**************

The past weeks had been confusing, terrifying, and downright unbelievable. That was clear, but didn’t you have no other choice than to accept what was going on? You still had millions of questions, and a certain ache in your heart that felt like it was pulling at you. But there wasn’t time to break down, not yet anyway. Is there even a right time? The conversation with Alby seemed to have made you worse off than before. You shuffle for the hundredth time in your hammock, letting out an exasperated sigh at the restless situation.

Despite your efforts, sleep never comes. For the past week, you’ve been exhausted just about everyday. Today had been no different, except when you try to relax, anxiety crawls in the air around you. Suddenly, the warm night air is absolutely suffocating. It’s too much pressure, too much unknown for you to handle it any longer. When your pounding heartbeat begins to drown out the cicadas and other sounds of the glade, you can only think of one thing. Alby was right

Stumbling out of your hammock, you start making your way out of the hut. It doesn’t matter where, you just need to escape. Even when you’re outside, there’s still not enough room. The four walls that once felt like a barrier between you and the horrors of the ominous maze, now feel like a cage. Trapping you inside and shrinking impossibly smaller until they eventually crush you.

Without thinking, you begin to sprint over to the west wall, pounding at the menacing stone and letting out a chocked sob. All at once, every emotion you’d suppressed since your first day in the glade releases from you. It’s nauseating, and you grip your stomach in an attempt to latch onto some sense of stability.

Who put you here? Why was everyone so indifferent to their lives here, and why had you eventually become the same way?

There’s been this ache, some rotting substance in your core that’s been emanating within you since you first woke up in the box. A horrible, indescribable hollowness that is the result of the loss of what must have been your life before the maze. Suddenly, you miss your mom. Or maybe a woman who resembled one. It’s mortifying, to know you must have parents somewhere out there. But you can’t remember them, can only feel the ugliest parts of you that aren’t whole without them. Your vision blurs, and there’s an awful white noise that drowns out any and all sounds of reality surrounding you. Completely immersed in your own thoughts, even the ground beneath you feels as though it’s been meticulously sculpted by whatever monsters put you here. It’s impossible to breath, feeling as though every beat of your heart, every blink of an eye is in the control of the creators. So caught up in your own panic, you don’t sense the boy calling your name behind you.

You attempt to squirm out of his strong grip, his stature never showing how strong he truly is from his long hours in the gardens. It’s no use to keep pulling away when his back hits the stone wall of the glade, using his strong grip to hold your hands against your chest as he slides you both to the floor. Weaker leg giving out from the sheer strength needed to restrain you. Newt’s not sure if he’s helping or making your panicked state even worse, but he’s reassured when you begin to calm. Erratic cries faltering into small whimpers as your head uncontrollably jerks at each sharp intake of air your body forces you to take. You can feel his heart beat rapidly against your back, informing you just how scared he is despite his stoic nature on the outside. You try to release from his grip once again, instincts telling you there’s too much to worry about to calm down. The blonde pulls you closer to him once more, hushing your cries and leaning his chin atop of your head. The world feels authentic again, and you silently think out a plethora of thank you’s to the boy for immersing you back into reality. Doing your best to cease your cries and gain control of your breathing, you grip onto the fabric of his long sleeve sleeping shirt with a terror-induced strength. It’s all too much

“Just breathe y/n, breathe with me.” He mutters softly, chest filling with pride when you mimic his dramatic intakes of air.

The ringing subsides, and the white clouding your vision finally clears when your heart begins to slow. Eventually, Newt releases your arms. And in an instant, you clutch onto his hand in fear the crippling panic will return. Rip you away from everything you’ve come to know in only seconds.

“You’re alright now love, just breathe.” He soothes again, not even flinching at your harsh grip on him. The minute you had left your hammock, something within him beckoned him to follow. You’d been off the past couple of days, and somehow the boy knew you couldn’t be alone. His eyes well with tears, you having reminded him so much of himself his first year in the glade. He wonders what you would have done if he hadn’t caught you in time, and what lengths you would have gone to if the pain never stopped and the maze walls opened. He wills away the thought with a shake of his head, reminding himself that you’re still here, and in dire need of a friend.

“I miss my mom.” You stutter out eventually, soft lips trembling and pulled into a pitiful pout. “I don’t remember her of course, but it’s like I can feel her. I feel everything and nothing at the same time, you know? There’s so much death here, it’s been hard to find something to live for. How am I supposed to do this, how are we supposed to survive this? I mean...This has gotta be some sort of sick joke, nobody could be this shucking cruel right?” You let out a pathetic scoff, still shaking uncontrollably in his arms.

“Listen to me y/n, I’ve been where you are. We all have, and I can promise you there is so much more than that feeling. You have to believe me.” You shake your head, refusing to accept his empty promises. He sighs before continuing, trying to gather his thoughts in preparation to confess what he’s kept secret from almost all other gladers until now. “A couple weeks into my first year here, I couldn’t shake the same feeling you’re describing. That dark, ominous part that sits inside of all of us here. The unknown, the memories begging to re-enter your mind. I hated it, I hated this place, and I hated myself.” You lift your head from his shoulder at that, wanting to study his contemplative expression as he carries on. “Eventually, I couldn’t take it. So I ran out into the maze....And I did what I assume you’ve been thinking about the past couple of days. And I can assure you, nothing you do to yourself with get rid of that pain. That’s why we survive, we persevere, we fight. It might have taken a shattered leg and permanent limp for me to realize, but I know now the only way to beat that feeling is to escape this shucking place. What comes next doesn’t matter, we have to show whatever slintheads put us here that they won’t ever win. Do you understand?” His expression becomes stern, willing each word to bore into your mind as a permanent oath. Stunning brown eyes boring into yours as if they’ll cement each syllable into your mind. You nod, unsure of how to respond.

“You have to promise me.” He mutters softly, eyes welling with tears at your empty expression. “Please love, promise me you’ll fight.” He’s holding your head in his hands now, silently willing the overwhelming demons your facing to escape that beautiful mind.

“P-promise. I promise.” You reassure weakly, overcome with love for the boy under you. Instantly, you encase him in a tight embrace. Heart swelling even more when he plants a soft kiss to your temple.

“Good that.” He breathes gently, pulling you impossibly closer to his heart. Just to hold you for a little while longer. You have to fight, and you’ll do it together.

Tagging: @8avery8 @jenny33996

[sarunohadaki]

DQXI/Great British Bake-Off Crossover

Crossover week: Home | 1 | 2 | 3| 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 |

This story idea in particular is very near and dear to my heart because when I first arrived in the SOS discord server, I mentioned it, and I got to talk with a lot of cool people for a long time about it. A lot of people seemed to love the idea, and Cicada even made art for it! 😭

It’s my favorite crossover idea and would be the most intricate to write. More under the cut because it’s another long post. (very long. With graphics. What is this, an essay?)

Spoilers for a potential future Saru fic.

Funny-but-I’m-not-using-these fic title ideas: Baking Bananaza, Fluff — and not just Meringue

Relationships: Gen or M/M (depending on how heavy the luminerik will come out)

Premise: Erik is a graduate student studying biogeochemistry with a particular interest in peat bogs in the UK. He interviews and gets on the show after Mia nags him to do it in the hopes that it’ll have a monetary reward, but as they soon find out, there’s no money involved. Erik participates anyway, figuring it’ll be a fun thing to do and help him hone his skills for the next time his sister randomly begs him to make éclairs at two in the afternoon.

He doesn’t really know what to expect, having never watched the show before, and is initially a little overwhelmed when he meets other amateur bakers from all over the country.

Twelve contestants enter the tent, but only one will come out on top. Who will it be?

Initial plan is to have none of the characters be related or know each other aside from the twins and Hendrik/Jasper. I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to have Rab related to El and so on and so forth, but I think it would be funner to have all the characters meet for the first time and develop friendships from there.

Everyone’s occupations are picked directly from my self-indulgent wants, haha.

And then here are some epithets, since the show uses things like this sometimes:

The structure of the fic

I initially thought it would be fun to do it sort of like a screenplay, but I am most comfortable writing in third person limited. BUT when you do it that way, you lose out on all the other disasters that are happening around the tent because you are only seeing what Erik’s seeing. And it would get boring after one episode to tell the reader, “I am now making this cake and following these directions.”

To combat this, I think it would be cool to do the omniscient POV for most of it, with the intention of writing it like an episode on TV. This would be interspersed with Erik’s director cut of events because he and Mia are watching the events play out while watching TV on the couch.

This would give us a chance to have Erik say, “Huh I didn’t realize the workstation behind me was almost literally on fire because I was too distracted trying to not over-mix my batter.” (Or staring distractedly into the back of ur crush’s head in front of you)

Plot

The short of it is you get to see a bunch of characters hang out and bake stuff semi-competitively! The long of it is, well… let me show you.

Each chapter is an episode

The Great British Bake Off usually has about 10 episodes, each with three challenges: the signature, technical, and showstopper. Whoever performs the worst holistically in each episode is eliminated. I have already roughly determined how that will play out based on some things I saw on a wiki. So, here’s the progression as it stands (don’t worry if it looks complicated at first — I can explain!):

To read this chart, each number refers to the episode. So, to see how people performed in episode 1, go to 1 and read down the column. From episode 1, you can see Erik, El, and Hendrik did well, while Ronnie and Faris did not. Vince got booted. Doing things this way, you can see Sylv had a few rough patches before they were eliminated, while El — the sweet boy — was never on the judges’ “least favourite bakers” list (alongside Jade, Rab, or Serena!)

This isn’t the final thing, and maybe there are patches that don’t make sense, but for a skeleton, it’s pretty useful for thinking up interesting plot points.

For example, Vince gets eliminated after baking an unchewable cake, and Sylv keeps pushing the envelope on how flamboyant their bakes can be in showstopper challenges, which lands them in trouble. Veronica really messes up in one episode and makes the food way too spicy.

Recipes

Okay. So you thought that chart was complicated, then behold this! Charts detailing any and every challenge from the Great British Bake Off from series 1-10, including signature, technical, and showstopper challenges with hour constraints where I could find them. Compiled from various wiki pages into one Google doc.

Potential problem: I don’t know if it would be plagiarizing to take various challenges and put them in a fic, and even more worrisome, if I could include recipes or just rip off what former contestants made. To create everything from scratch (pun intended) would take a lot of work. Based on the elimination chart, there are 225 instances of something being baked. Do you know how much work that is. (It goes down to 160 unique dishes when you take into account technical challenges all being the same recipe.)

In recent series (the gbbo say “series” and not “season”), they have had a few episodes such as “the ’80s,” “vegan,” and “forgotten bakes,” along with such classics as cakes, biscuits, etc. Pretty much every season includes the following episodes: Cakes (episode 1), biscuits (2), bread (3), desserts (~4), pastry (~6), patisserie (9), and a final challenge (episode 10). That leaves you with about 3 or 4 unique challenges each series unless you cut out one of those staple weeks, such as pastry. (Also, for anyone wondering the difference between pastry and patisserie: Pastry is a type of dough with fat and patisserie is a style of baking.)

This is where I said things were going to get intricate. Sometimes the details are what really sell a fic for me. Remember the five senses or that random thing that no one cares about but helps fill in the setting or make the story feel more alive. Having a masterful grasp of which characters are cooking what without overwhelming the reader would be difficult. Unlike TV, the reader is keeping track of all of this in their head!

I am no stranger to plopping some HTML into my fics from time to time and maybe that could help? To include graphics of what each person is baking, kind of like those… idk, “recipe blueprints” the narrator talks over where they tell you what the contestant is making and then they give you an illustrated piece of what the dish is supposed to look like.

Anyway, that’s a lot of work and I think just telling the reader, “he’s making this and I’m making this” would prolly suffice.

Why does any of this matter?

Because it’s fun. Because all of the characters will exchange jokes and poke at each other and I had plans to make Jasper and Hendrik have past beef and maybe Jasper throws food at Hennie or something. And also the pining for Elian would be very persistent. Erik and El have some stuff in common and their stations are right next to each other, maximizing the potential for banter and small talk about trying to manage school and this baking show thing at the same time.

In my heart, Erik wins because he’s the one who gets to date El at the end, but El is the hero so I know he’s the one who wins the show. And Hendrik has a secret baking sweet tooth so of course he comes in close third. (That is to prepare Hendrik for baking cakes for Jasper later.)

Unlike 80% of my fic ideas that are fusions, I think this one might be a legitimate crossover with people like Paul Hollywood, Merry Berry, and Noel Fielding. Sylv might slot into being a host, too.

[inkweaver22-blr]

Wow! Two chapters in two days? I'm as surprised as you are. Now this chapter technically takes place before chapter 1, so keep that in mind. Let's see what Tang does in one of the earliest cycles.

AO3 Link

<Previous | Next>

Scattered Cicadas - Chapter Two: Hope and Despair, Life and Death

Content Warning: Graphic Depictions of Violence, Major Character Death

Tang tests the limits and rules of his new life. He gets mixed results.

----------

He was in a dimly lit cave. Nothing else around except for the stone floor and walls. Several voices suddenly shout out to him, calling his name. Before he can react he is consumed by a bright, all-encompassing golden-yellow light.

----------

With a gasp Tang awoke from the dream and looked around. He was back in his room. Again.

He quickly scrambled for his phone. That had been the third time he had that strange dream and, judging by the date he read on the screen, the third time he had jumped back in time.

Tang clutched the phone and stared at it in disbelief. This couldn’t really be happening right? Time loops were just cheesy narrative devices used in bad sci-fi and fix-it fanfictions. (Not that he had ever written a fix-it fic. Nope. Not him.)

With a shaky breath the scholar got out of bed and began to prepare for the day. Sitting around panicking wasn’t going to solve this. What he needed was a clear head and a sympathetic ear.

His stomach growled.

Perhaps a meal wouldn’t go wrong either.

Tang left his apartment and headed straight to the one place he knew where he could satisfy all three needs.

----------

“Wow Mr. Tang. That all sounds a bit… Unbelievable to be honest.” MK had been pretty excited at first when Tang had started his tale. But once the scholar further explained the coming events his enthusiasm waned. Tang assumed he didn’t enjoy hearing that he would eventually lose a fight against the Lady Bone Demon and have his brand new powers taken from him.

“You sure it wasn’t just a bad dream,” Pigsy asked in concern. While he had been skeptical of Tang’s story, the pig demon hadn’t dismissed him out of hand.

“Yes, I am positive.” Tang took a breath and tried to keep his tone even. He knew what he was saying sounded far fetched, but getting upset that they didn’t believe him wouldn’t be productive. “This is the third time I’ve had that dream and the third time I’ve woken up in my room back in time after starting the second Journey to the West. Something strange is going on.”

Pigsy shared a glance with MK who shrugged and turned back to Tang.

“Well if you say something weird is happening, then I believe you.” The sincerity and trust in MK’s statement made something in Tang’s chest unclench.

“Thank you MK,” he said with a sigh of relief.

“Hey,” the delivery boy suddenly exclaimed, his earlier excitement returning. “Maybe the Monkey King might know what’s going on! I’ll be sure to ask him later when we meet up for training.”

“Great idea, kid,” Pigsy said. “And aren’t you always going on about how such a great scholar you are? Surely you could find something in those dusty books you’re always praising.”

The pressure in his chest quickly turned into a comforting warmth. Tang wasn’t sure how he had managed to get such supportive friends but he was glad for it.

“You’re right! I’ll head over to the library right now.” He smiled brightly at the two before heading for the door. “We’ll meet back up this evening to discuss what we’ve found.” He ducked out of the shop, calling out a ‘Thank you!’ as he left.

Tang’s good mood carried him all the way to the bus stop and for the whole ride to the library. He was certain that with the help of his friends they’d be able to find a quick solution to his problem.

----------

Tang gave a sigh as he sat down in his usual stool. His research at the library had been going much slower than he would have liked. He had a few potential leads he could follow up on but nothing solid had shown up yet.

“Something eating you,” Pigsy asked as he placed the scholar’s usual order in front of him. Tang thanked him, inhaling the delicious aroma of noodles cooked to perfection before quickly digging in.

“The research at the library isn’t going quite as quickly as I had hoped,” Tang replied around a mouthful of food. “I’m sure I’ll find something soon though.”

“Ooooh! What’cha researching,” an inquisitive voice piped up behind him. Tang turned to find both MK and Mei in a nearby booth. Mei was messing with something on her phone while MK seemed interested at the mention of his research.

“I told you and Pigsy about it this morning,” Tang said with a frown. “You know? The time loop I seem to be stuck in?”

“You’re stuck in a time loop?!” Both MK and Mei practically teleported from their seats and were now leaning excitedly into his personal space.

“You told the kid and I about this earlier?” Pigsy frowned at the scholar, his brow furrowed in confusion.

Tang’s heart began to beat a little faster.

“I- Yes. MK, you were supposed to ask the Monkey King if he knew anything,” Tang nervously explained.

“I was? Hmm...” The Monkey King’s successor scratched his head. “I don’t remember you asking me that.”

“Aw, who cares,” Mei shouted excitedly. “This is so cool! Tell us what’s going to happen!”

Tang took a steadying breath. Perhaps both Pigsy and MK had busy and stressful days today and simply forgot. Yes, that had to be it. With nothing better to do, he launched into a second retelling of what he remembered.

Again, MK had seemed subdued at the thought of being beaten. Again, Pigsy was somewhat skeptical but didn’t outright call him a liar. Mei being excited and boldly stating that none of the bad stuff would happen this time around was a welcome distraction from his fears. MK promised once again to ask the Monkey King questions and Pigsy once again encouraged him to go looking for answers. Mei even offered to let him into her family’s personal library.

Tang once more felt the anxiety bleeding away and the warmth for his friends replacing it. He picked up his bowl and resumed eating his now lukewarm noodles. There was a comfortable lull in conversation for a few minutes.

“Hey, you never did tell us what you were researching Mr. Tang,” MK said curiously. “Anything interesting?”

Tang dropped his bowl onto the counter.

“Oi! Watch it!”

Tang ignored Pigsy’s indignant shout as he whirled to face the younger man. He was sitting at the booth with Mei once more, his expression completely earnest. Mei seemed disinterested as she played on her phone.

The scholar’s heart began to race.

“But I just told you!” His panicked tone earned concerned looks from his friends. “I’m stuck in a time loop and you all just offered to help me find a way out!”

“You’re stuck in a time loop?!” Both MK and Mei practically teleported from their seats and were now leaning excitedly into his personal space.

“We offered to help you out just now?” Pigsy frowned at the scholar, his brow furrowed in confusion as he wiped up the broth spilled from Tang’s dropped bowl.

Tang felt sick.

----------

Tang lay in his bed, the anxiety and fear of the last few days clutching at his heart and preventing him from sleeping.

Every time he told his friends about his predicament, not even five minutes later they would act like the conversation had never happened. He had Mei record a video of it once, but the file instantly became corrupted upon completion. Not even the Monkey King, who he forced MK to take him to, was able to keep his memories of anything Tang said.

Whatever was happening, whatever magical effect he was under, it was forcing people to forget everything he told them about it.

Tang had never felt more alone.

----------

Tang glared from his position at the counter as the fake mayor presented MK with the Skeleton Key. He had learned during the second loop the real identity of this man: a servant of Lady Bone Demon.

The scholar angrily slurped at his noodles as he thought about the past few weeks.

He had been hiding in his apartment for a few days, refusing to speak to anyone before his friends took matters into their own hands. They stormed his home, kidnapped him, and plonked him down in Sandy’s therapy cat room until he broke down and explained his actions.

He couldn’t tell them what was actually happening, but his feelings of loneliness and despair were something Tang felt he could share.

Warmth bloomed in his chest at how his friends had been more than supportive. Sandy made him a special blend of teas that would help with anxiety. MK and Mei did their best to involve him in more activities, inviting him to the zero gravity arcade and other fun events. Pigsy’s actions had been the most surprising, practically forcing Tang to move into his apartment.

“Nobody should be alone if they don’t have to,” was all the chef had to say on the subject.

“Because I’M the mayor!”

Tang was snapped out of his fond recollections by the obnoxious voice of the Lady Bone Demon’s servant and subsequent explosion of smoke as he teleported away.

Oh right. The Skeleton Key.

The scholar scowled down into his bowl as he half listened to MK and Mei gush over all the cool things they could unlock. This being his third loop and fourth time experiencing these events overall, he was fairly positive this was the catalyst that led to Lady Bone Demon appearing. It was a shame he couldn’t just take the key and prevent that from happening.

Wait.

Tang sat up straight in his stool, his thoughts racing.

Why couldn’t he? What was it Mei had said the first time he told her about the future? That this time none of the bad stuff would happen. Just because he was the only one who knew about what was to come didn’t mean he couldn’t do anything about it!

Tang dashed out after MK and Mei as they left the store, quickly inviting himself along. Throughout the day his heart raced as he tried to come up with a way to get the key away from them.

----------

In the end it was relatively easy. One made up story about an unopenable letter box belonging to his grandmother and a promise to bring the key with him to the shop the following morning was all it took.

Tang stood alone in his room in his and Pigsy’s shared apartment. In his hands was the Skeleton Key.

His heart pounded as he stared down at the artifact. This was it. He could prevent Lady Bone Demon’s rise to power.

With trembling fingers, Tang took the key in both hands.

Then he snapped it in half.

Tang was launched back against the wall as a wave of force exploded from broken artifact. He slid to the ground as the energy dissipated, only to gag as a hand gripped his throat and pushed him back up against the wall.

“What have you done?!”

Tang gasped as stared down into the very pissed off face of the fake mayor. The scholar clawed at the hand holding him up and cutting off his air, desperate to get it to release him.

“You have ruined our plans,” the mayor hissed. “You’ve snapped them in two. Now I’ll do the same to you!”

Tang had never thought about how it might feel to have one’s neck snapped. Unfortunately, the mayor decided to help him experience the sensation first hand.

----------

Alone in a cave. Voices shouting his name. A bright golden-yellow light.

----------

Tang came awake half screaming and half sobbing. He gasped and choked as the phantom sensation of not being able to breath refused to leave. The sound of his own neck being broken seemed to be drowning out other sounds and made his stomach rebel. He quickly leaned over the side of his bed and vomited.

Fuck.

He had just died.

Murdered in a horrifically violent fashion.

Tang vomited again.

“Tang?!” A gruff and startled voice cut through Tang’s panic. He looked up to see the blurry form of Pigsy standing in the doorway. Without his glasses he couldn’t tell what the chef’s expression was, but by the sound of his voice he seemed a bit freaked out.

Unable to really articulate at the moment, Tang simply sobbed and reached out a hand towards the pig demon. Pigsy didn’t hesitate and rushed over, pulling the scholar into a hug and began whispering comforts into his ear.

----------

Tang had been a complete mess for the remainder of that cycle. He practically lived in Sandy’s therapy room (which strangely had ferrets instead of cats) and rarely spoke.

His friends were deeply concerned over his changed behavior and it warmed him at the ways they all tried to accommodate him. But what could he tell them? They wouldn’t remember anything he told them anyway.

So he told them nothing. He let them dote on him and he did his best to heal.

----------

It took him five more cycles before Tang tried changing anything major for the better again.

It went about as well as the first time.

Dying violently hadn’t gotten easier to deal with the second time around.

----------

After his disastrous second attempt Tang tried changing smaller things.

An anonymous tip to the weather station about a potential attack resulted in the city being destroyed in a massive storm.

Telling MK that the prize for the race wasn’t a real Peach of Immortality ended with Mei paralyzed from the waist down.

Casually bringing up stories of Macaque from the original Journey led to MK being kidnapped and turned into a horrific combination of weapon and surrogate son to the black furred demon.

Tang wasn’t stupid. He was a scholar and academic. He could see a pattern when it presented itself.

The message was clear.

Don’t attempt changing any significant events.

So he didn’t.

----------

Tang almost passed out in relief when he first figured out that while major events were off limits, the quieter moments of his life were still under his own control.

Small things like choosing where to take Pigsy on a date or comforting MK through his insecurities and not having something terrible happen nearly made him weep in happiness.

Slowly his confidence was restored. He vowed that if he couldn’t really change what happened, he’d be there for his friends and to help pick up the pieces after things went wrong. It was the least he could do after the kindnesses they showed him.

And there had to be a way to break this cycle. He refused to believe that this would be his life for the rest of eternity. The knowledge Tang needed was out there somewhere. He just needed to keep going until he found it.

Life continued, and Tang chose to continue living.

----------

Bet you all thought this was just going to be a fluffy romp through the timelines huh? WELL YOU WERE WRONG! Told you I would change those content warnings when I needed to. Get your tissues ready because this is just the first wave of angst our little scholar boy will have to weather. Events from now on won't be in explicit chronological order but I'll make sure to make it clear which events came first when needed. See ya'll in the next chapter!

EDIT

Shout out to PeachBased for pointing out the reference in this chapter I forgot to credit!

That line about MK becoming Macaque's messed up weapon/son is a reference to Repeated Consequences by Gremlin_In_Blue. Fair warning though:

PLEASE PAY ATTENTION TO ALL THE TAGS AS THIS FIC IS PRETTY GRAPHIC!!!

[medea10]

My Review of Higurashi no Naku Koro Ni GOU

(a.k.a. When They Cry Gou)

I know what you’re thinking. Why the heck am I reviewing this anime again? I’ve already written a review in 2009 and re-polished it in 2016. (Here it is BTW) I’ve made my point on who I like, hate, what ships are worthy, and poked fun at all the deaths that happened throughout the series. I think some time has passed that I should say some thoughts on this…um, story. After all, Higurashi is one of my favorite animes.

STORY: Ah shit, here we go again!

Higurashi or When They Cry is about a boy named Keiichi Maebara who recently moved to a place called Hinamizawa. And ever since moving to this town, he’s found his days are filled with fun mischief with fellow friends Rena Ryuuguu, Satoko Hojo, Mion Sonozaki, and Rika Furude. But little does Keiichi know that there’s a little murder mystery that surrounds the town. During a town festival known as Watanagashi (or Cotton Drifting), there’s usually one or two people that go missing or turn up dead. And this year, Keiichi is next. So let’s relive the horrors that plague the town of Hinamizawa and…

One episode later.

Wait, what the…?! It’s episode 2, why are we seeing Hanyuu? I don’t remember that in the manga. The visual! THE VISUAL! WHAT THE FUCK?! ISN’T THIS SUPPOSED TO BE A REBOOT? WHAT THE FUCK?! WHAT THE FUCK?! WHY IS THERE AN ADULT RIKA?! WAIT, IS THAT ADULT RIKA OR BERN? IS THIS GOING TO BE THE PARALLEL UNIVERSE TO THE WITCHES OF UMINEKO?! THE SHADOWS IN THE OPENING ARE TOO FAMILIAR FROM OTHER WORKS! Ryukishi07, you magnificent, fucking troll master for keeping this hidden until the second episode’s air date!

Many of us did not see this coming. When they announced a new Higurashi series that was going to be done by a different studio, many of us speculated whether this was going to be a reboot or a sequel. But then we got the PV trailers and it looked like we were going to get a reboot to correct the mistakes Studio Deen made years ago. Rika’s head doesn’t look like its gonna snap off because her body is so small in comparison. Improvements! I mean, they showed everything we were already used to like the yandere girls, the original soundtrack, the original freakin’ cast, and death by baseball bat. Hell, the first episode ended with an Eiko Shimamiya song! It was on track to being a reboot! A better looking reboot!

Here in lies the sequel aspect! After episode one, we get a scene that isn’t usually seen until the Kai part of Higurashi (a good 4-5 arcs away). And they give away the secret that Rika Furude is repeating the timeline of June 1983 over and over because she keeps dying. And as the series progresses, you notice little things different from the original series. Many of the well-known storylines end much differently than what you remember. Instead of Keiichi killing Rena and Mion with a baseball bat, you’ve got Rena going psycho on Keiichi. And Rika’s fate is somehow worse than the stories of the original series. So let’s head back to Hinamizawa to hear the cicadas cry and watch a murder mystery unfold.

THE SUB: All the original voice actors have returned to voice their respected roles. Perfection in a nutshell!

LICENSING: You’ve gotta be shitting me!

As I’ve mentioned years ago in my review, the original Higurashi anime went through a turbulent time being licensed in the states. It was originally licensed and dubbed by Geneon. But once Geneon collapsed, FUNimation licensed it and did absolutely fuck all with it. Geneon could only manage to squeak out one season. At this point, FUNimation was picking up titles that Geneon used to have before it fell under including Familiar of Zero, Kyou Kara Maou, and yes, Higurashi. All of these titles mentioned here were done absolutely nothing with despite having cult followings, second seasons, and OVA’s.

A year or two after licensing it, the license expired for Higurashi. For nearly six years, the only copies you could get were out of print and estimating at $500 at the very least for a full collection. Single DVD’s could be found in rare shops, but it would take like 13 years to complete the fucking collection if you did it that way. And that was only for the first season. Second season, the best all of us could do was bootleg DVD’s from Japan Town or fansubs with glaring errors for the best season to Higurashi. We had to deal with this shit until Sentai Filmworks licensed and released the first 2 seasons and the Rei OVA’s.

AND NOW YOU’RE TELLING ME FUNIMATION IS CLAIMING HIGURASHI ALL FOR THEMSELVES?!

Where the shit was this love 10 years ago when we were asking politely to release Kai? People ignorantly blew Higurashi off for years because season two was never released in the states until 2016 because they thought the damn anime ended after Rena held up the school. I’m already irritated with FUNimation after the Interspecies Reviewers debacle and I’m still quite butt-hurt over them re-releasing Nichijou with a dub to make a quick buck. Licensing Higurashi just brings back old anger. Don’t get me wrong, I’m happy Higurashi is legally licensed and can be seen on at the very least Hulu. It’s just that I hold grudges and this was a big one.

THE DUB: Holy…um, okay! This is a rather big gulp to take in. As I’ve repeatedly mentioned in past reviews, the Higurashi dub was a mixed bag of okay, bad, and oh gasperts kill it with fire. So, not great! The good folks at Geneon (before bankrupting in America) dubbed the first season with a good chunk of folks that put their fake names to the credits. Again, not great! To me, there were some aspects of Megan Hollingshed, Mela Lee, and Grant George’s performances of Mion, Rena, and Keiichi that were okay. SOME! John Snyder and Karen Strassmen as Ooishi and Takano were the best out of that dub. Everything else was just irredeemable! It needed a redub, an overhaul, and a spit-shine. For years, I’ve wondered who would be the dream cast. Sentai Filmworks unfortunately never dubbed the remaining seasons when they released them. Would Luci Christian be the heavenly voice to do Rika Furude? Could we get Hilary Haag to do Satoko? Okay, that never came to pass.

This dub is a breath of fresh air. Rika doesn’t sound like Mihoshi. Satoko doesn’t sound fake, Keiichi doesn’t sound like a weird Sonic the Hedgehog. It’s perfect. ESPECIALLY BRITTANY LAUDA AS SATOKO! I knew the second she was cast as Satoko that she was going to excel the fuck out of this role. And I was not disappointed! The only voice I’m still not quite used to is Michelle Rojas as the Sonozaki twins. Probably because I was somewhat okay with Megan Hollingshed’s voice in the 2006 version that it’ll take some time! And we FINALLY got a voice for Hanyuu. I am super excited that Xanthe Huynh is the voice and I know she’ll do great with this role! With all of that said, here’s what you might recognize these folks from.

*Keiichi is now played by Khoi Dao (known for Kiriyama on March Comes in Like a Lion, Murata on Demon Slayer, Chaka on Jojo’s Bizarre Adventure Pt. 3, and Iskhan on SAO: Alicization)

*Rena is now played by Emi Lo

*Mion/Shion is now played by Michelle Rojas (known for Shizu Delta on Overlord, Touka on Assassination Classroom, Minase on Psycho Pass, Kanan on Love Live Sunshine, and Kusakai on Keijo!!!!!!!!)

*Rika is now played by Apphia Yu (known for Rio on Assassination Classroom, Marie on Black Clover, You on Love Live Sunshine, Victorique on Gosick, Natsumi on Danganronpa 3, and Laki on Fairy Tail)

*Satoko is now played by Brittany Lauda (known for Riko on Made in Abyss, Meidri on Interspecies Reviewers, Lessar on Index III, and Ichigo on Darling in the FranXX)

*Hanyuu is played by Xanthe Huynh (known for Menma on Anohana, Haru on Persona 5, Hanayo on Love Live, Hidomi on FLCL: Progressive, PallaPalla on Sailor Moon Super S [redub], and Sachi on SAO)

ANY CHANGES IN YOUR HATE-O-RADE:

Okay Medea, let-a-rip!

*inhales and exhales*

Teppei Hojo is trash. He is ultimate trash. This fucker needs to be murdered in every timeline. He is a turd in a Glenn Quagmire shirt. Him and his wife are trash. And when this pile of trash is cheating on that pile of trash, he sleeps with peak trash named Ritsuko. Teppei Hojo needs to die in every timeline. Whenever Keiichi bashes this cum-burger’s head in with a blunt instrument, I scream at the top of my lungs, “DIE SCUM, DIE”! And nothing, I repeat, NOTHING will change my opinion of Teppei Hojo.

Episode 23.

Oh, fuck you Higurashi Gou!

MUSIC: Okay, thank you for proving me wrong. I did not despise the opening theme. Having Higurashi with no Eiko Shimamiya is like having Pokemon with no Rika Matsumoto. Or Rozen Maiden with no ALI PROJECT. But this new opening is fine by my standards.

That’s right, get the niceness of the review before I get angry down below.

THESE TIMELOOPS: Rika tries to find solutions to end her time-loop in June 1983. Much like the original series, we follow stories from the Onikakushi-hen, Watanagashi-hen, and Tatarigoroshi-hen arcs (the first three stories to Higurashi, although now these have different names). However, all of these arcs have different endings. And after a positive turnaround with Satoko escaping from her abusive uncle, shit goes south when Detective Ooishi, who up to this point has never suffered under the Hinamizawa Syndrome or died a painful death goes on a murderous rampage. Higurashi style! That means, he’s after Rika Furude, will slaughter anyone in his way, and scratching his neck because he sees maggots (part of the hallucination effect).

What the shit? Ooishi for the most part has been a great guy. With the exception of the Tatarigoroshi-hen storyline, he was a nice guy! In the limbo with Hanyuu, Rika now remembers who has killed her. Every time Rika dies up to this point, she never remembers who was the cause of her demise. Hanyuu implanted that power to remember the deaths and a clue for Rika to use and then she disappears.

Now seriously, imagine Rika’s plight here. She has been repeating the month of June 1983 for over a hundred years. And each of these times she repeats, she’s horribly murdered. Rika got the shit-end of the deal in the murder department in the original series, including being dissected on while alive. Then, leaving her bloody, naked corpse out in the open of the Oyashiro altar! She’s tired of this shit! She wants to live a happy life away from Hinamizawa. She wants to grow older, become a teenager, and have fun. And this series made it worse by having her die four times in one episode. Not just that, but murdered by the most unexpected people including Akasaka, Chief Kimiyoshi, Mion’s mother Akane, and Keiichi. Keiichi has never killed Rika in any of the timelines up to this point. He has killed Mion and Rena, but never Rika. Keiichi loves Rika! Welcome back to A Million Ways to Die in Hinamizawa.

I’ll just add decapitation, drowning in a lake, set on fire, drowning in a sewage pipe, and death by…um…

Alexa, play Chandelier by Sia.

ENDING: We all know by now that in the original series, Miyo Takano is the betrayer and the reason behind all the murders during the Cotton Drifting Festival. This time, it’s someone closer to Rika that’s causing Rika so much pain. After we watched the worst kinds of murders happen to Rika, the episode after gave us our answer. Satoko, Rika’s friend and confidant is not happy that Rika is turning her back on Oyashiro and Hinamizawa. All the while pulling out her intestines!

Oh Higurashi, don’t stop being gory!

Yes, Satoko is aware of past timelines much like Rika and is almost on a god-like state. So what the hell happened to her? I know Satoko’s past has been a cluster-fuck of horror with her brother disappearing, her parents dying, and every form of abuse from her uncle. But she was able to prevail after all that. After surviving 1983, a lot has changed in Hinamizawa. The three big families of Hinamizawa put an end to the Cotton Drifting Festival and claiming there is no curse of Oyashiro. Mion and Shion moved on and are going to high school. And Rika decides she wants to move away from this village. By attending St. Lucia! And she wants to do this with Satoko.

Oh, if you don’t recall St. Lucia, Shion attended this academy until she escaped during the Meakashi-hen arc. It was also the same school that Ange from Umineko attended. But of course Ange attended it in the 90’s and we are clearly in the 80’s. Moving on!

Rika and Satoko studied their butts off for years and their hard work paid off as both were admitted into St. Lucia. Now Rika was able to prevail and fit in with everyone. Satoko on the other hand couldn’t do the same as her grades took a dip, her manners are atrocious, and she doesn’t seem to fit in with anyone. And this caused a drift between Rika and Satoko! And so during a trip to Hinamizawa, Satoko went to the old shrine where she ended up getting sent to that limbo place Rika and Hanyuu were at many times before. There, she meets Eua (God, I hope that really isn’t her name). She’s much like Hanyuu except a lot more condescending. Oh, and she’s that mysterious shadow during the opening theme. She bestows the power to Satoko of reviving on death and returning to a certain point in time. In the hopes that Satoko is able to stop Rika from going to St. Lucia! But Rika is not going to budge. She wants out of Hinamizawa no matter what. And Satoko just wants to be with her friend no matter what. Satoko is even shown Rika’s past and still no dent in…Okay, this is bugging the fuck outta me. Pause the Ending portion!

MY GRIPES WITH SATOKO: Satoko, girl, the fuck is wrong with you?! I know Rika is like your main chick and everything, but for fuck’s sake loosen the grip you have with Rika. This season has changed you and not for the better. You made a connection with ALL OF YOUR FRIENDS from Hinamizawa. Big connections! At least in the original series you did. Look at your moments with Keiichi and Shion. Are you just going to shove them off? And what really sets me off is that Satoko literally had the opportunity to learn about Rika’s hundred year’s loop of death. And feels nothing about it! Only that it’s a challenge to break her herself! God damn, at the end of season one, Keiichi learned the truth and he was remorseful. This bitch doesn’t care that her friends were murdered in such a way. And Rika’s been shot in the head, had a live dissection performed on her, and other forms of torture…AND IT DOESN’T FAZE SATOKO!

I know in my original Higurashi review, I felt sorry for Satoko as she did seem to get the short-end of the stick living in Hinamizawa. I mean, her parents died right in front of her, she suffered abuse from her uncle, abuse from her aunt, ostrisized by the town for years, and a myriad of all types of shit to befall her. But Higurashi Gou has ruined this character. Rika didn’t really do anything wrong to Satoko. She didn’t snitch on her when Satoko got in trouble. She offered help to Satoko when she thought her grades were slipping. Satoko just held onto this petty vendetta. Satoko acted like Rika sexually assaulted her and have two other people gang rape her while drugging her. Okay, that’s a call for revenge, not your petty shit.

YOU SEE WHERE I’M AT WITH YOU SATOKO?! Your actions are so bad that you have me siding with the protagonist from Redo of Healer.

REDO.

OF.

HEALER!!!

I’m done with you! Girl, bye! We now return you to my talk about the ending already in progress.

BACK TO THE ENDING: Sorry, had to get that off my chest. Yeah, Satoko is leaving a bad impression on many of us who have been following the Higurashi story for years. And it just gets worse as she uses her new power for petty shit and abusing it at that. I mean, we saw Rika use her power in order to find a way to live past June 1983. Satoko is just using that shit to win some games and have things go her way. What else could this series bless us with? How about an epiphany from Teppei Hojo?

What?!

Teppei changes for the better.

What?!

Look, I admit that these moments with Teppei and Satoko were tame compared to the shit she’s pulled in the last several episodes. But this is Teppei Hojo! The same guy that used Satoko as his personal punching bag! The same guy who fleeced Rena’s father! The same guy many of us who cheer every time we see him on a moped because we know someone’s going to bash his head in with a baseball bat. Even my best friend knows how I am with this guy. When she gave me Higurashi free swag, I took everything except for Teppei. I don’t take trash. So seeing him so remorseful makes me…conflicted.

So now Satoko’s got things turned around for her. Her uncle has…changed?! Add to that, her God-like power. Satoko decides to change the past for her own advantage. This includes changing one of the biggest stories in Higurashi Kai with the kids vs. Miyo Takano. If Rika doesn’t experience the pain in those timelines, she won’t think about leaving Hinamizawa. And if she doesn’t leave Hinamizawa, she’ll stay with Satoko forever.

Oh what a tangled web of crazy Higurashi Gou was! I gotta tell you, Higurashi got me excited all the way up until we learn it was Satoko. And then it went straight to Hell. They turned Satoko into a straight-up selfish monster. Totally unlike the Satoko we’ve all grown to love in the original series. Yes, Satoko had those moments where, yeah, you would want to throw a chair at her and beat her ass with it. But that was only temporary! You would always see the good in Satoko despite that mischievous laugh and those episodes in Higurashi Rei. And God help me, I was a shipper of Rika x Satoko 10 years ago. Not a big one, but a supporter of it. Now, I would rather support Amourshipping from Pokemon than root for this. And I despise the living fuck out of Amourshipping. That should tell you something!

If original Satoko were bestowed the powers from Eua, I think things would be different. Satoko would probably use her powers to prevent all the bad stuff from happening to her friends and to her brother Satoshi. I mean, my goodness, not once did I see her think, hey maybe I should find a way to help my ailing brother. Change a few timelines, make him all better! And of course, feel sympathy for Rika’s plight. Do it for Rika’s sake, not your own selfish desires! Rika has died horrificly for hundreds of years. And I seriously just can’t get over Satoko’s reaction to that when she learned the truth. Instead, she wants to treat Rika like a caged bird. Best friend my ass!

Now can Higurashi SOTSU fix the hot mess of Satoko? Time will only tell! And good on them for having Higurashi air in the summertime. Summertime is for Higurashi! Autum is for Umineko. Speaking of, it’s been since 2009. Any chance you want to give Umineko the old reboot or sequel it sorely needs? Oh forget it! My likeness for this season is conflicted. I was annoyed by it, but I didn’t fully hate it. It’s just that last arc with Satoko really burned my beans. And I’m sure a lot of you all feel the same way.

Guys, if you want to watch Higurashi Gou, do yourselves a favor and watch the original series first. Let that swirl around your heads for a while. I know the creator tricked us at the beginning of this series thinking it was going to be an honest-to-God retelling. It is not! It is a sequel. And a sequel that isn’t based off a game or manga of all things. So fans are jumping into this with eyes closed! And if you’re a fan of Satoko Hojo, I’m sorry. I’m just sorry.

If you want to check out Higurashi Gou, it is available to watch on FUNimation and Hulu. But please, if you haven’t watched the original series, go to HI-DIVE now and watch “When They Cry” and “When They Cry Kai”. I think you can manage without watching any of the OVA’s.

I’d rather watch that Kira OVA where the fanservice is thin, you can practically lick off the whipped cream from the Sonozaki’s tit.

That should tell you something if I’m starting to say something nice about Higurashi Kira.

See you in a few months when Higurashi SOTSU comes out.

[myelocin]

REQ #6, #7, & #8 | Stories in Passing

synopsis:

Req #6 | @hoshino-a​ : The stranger always standing across your platform never failed to leave you both amused and irritated all at once. What you didn’t expect, was to actually come to stand face to face with him.

Req #7 | @souheii​ : Doritos, capri suns, and midnight talks with a stranger at a half empty grocery store parking lot wasn’t a common occurrence, but you suppose not all bad either.

Req #8 | Linette : Your spontaneous trip to the nearby 7/11 didn’t usually end up with conversations with a monochrome-haired man with golden eyes shared under a starless sky with strawberry ice cream, but perhaps there’s a first for everything. 

 characters: Miya Atsumu, Iwaizumi Hajime, Bokuto Koutarou

#6 Miya Atsumu | For Lena | Platform 2, Ginza Line, Tokyo

He wasn’t much of a stranger to you at this point considering how you’ve filed him in your brain as the “fake blonde bitch who thinks train schedules are a competition,” for the past week or so.

Jumping into a new schedule meant that you had to take an earlier train than usual to the busier side of town to clock in at work on time.

What’s interesting on your new schedule, though, is the guy you always see standing at the platform opposite of yours across the train tracks. To be fair, he was pretty good looking, and you would be a liar if you didn’t admit that. Side swept bleach blonde hair, a dark undercut, prominent brows and a fairly acceptable fashion sense. Save for the checkered fanny pack he always wears though; you figure he could do better than that.

Then again, to each their own.

He was there every day and stopped right across you every time so you figured the two of you must be running on a similar schedule. That wasn’t much of a problem considering the fact that you’ve known yourself to be rather observant and by the third day already could pick out a few familiar faces in the morning crowd.

What was the problem though, was the stranger who always managed to stand across you on the opposite platform made it seem like his lifelong mission was to smirk at you every time his train arrived first. The glance with the telltale smirk was quick, and could have been just chalked up to a trick of the mind—but the way his eyes glinted as the corner of his lips lifted into a smirk when you looked straight at him on the days your train approached first confirmed your suspicions.

So just like that, the bleach blonde stranger had quickly become a fixture in your morning routine. Your eyes met at least twice every day, but you still didn’t know his name nor he—yours.

What you hadn’t expected though, was stepping into the train at 3:02 PM headed to Shibuya and seeing him, checkered fanny pack and all, staring straight at you as he took one of the fully occupied seats in front of the only available area for you to stand in.

And like a normal person with a sane mind which you consider yourself to have: you ignored him completely.

From your peripheral vision you could practically see him scoff before he looks straight at you and says, “For the record I arrived first.”

You nod, not sure whether you want to answer or not, but the grandmother stares at him in a way that even has you feeling bad, that he motions to stand up, quickly saying, “Take my seat.”

You shake your head and tell him, you’re getting off soon anyway, so he stays.

He looks at you, then at the grandmother shrugging when she shakes her head towards him (really, you still feel bad), and tells you, “If I didn’t know any better I’d take that this is just a ploy so I feel bad and take ya’ out for coffee or somethin’ after this.”

You roll your eyes, “Only if we get off at the same station.”

He smirks, and you fight the urge to roll your eyes again because it looks just as pompous as the one from earlier this morning.

“That’s a deal,” he says again and for the rest of the train ride you ignore him, quickly taking a seat on the opposite side when one opened up. The seemingly unending rush hour of Tokyo filled the train back up in less than a minute, so you suppose the stranger would think he just lost you in the crowd.

And because fate decided it wasn’t on your side that day, of course, the second you make it three steps out of the train, you see him from the exit next to yours waving at you.

“Well,” he says, “Wouldja’ look at that. If I didn’t know any better maybe fate’s on my side today after all.”

He’s still laughing when he shoves his hands in his pockets and fully faces you.

“Miya Atsumu,” he says, introducing himself with a smile that feels familiar despite it being the first time you’re seeing it.

“Lena,” you reply. His eyes crinkle again in a way that has you thinking maybe fate’s trying to tell you something today after all.

 -

#7 Iwaizumi Hajime | For souheii | lmao pls just think random grocery store but at like, 04:07 AM

A half empty grocery store parking lot on the other side of town at four in the morning wasn’t exactly your best idea up to date, but you guess the quiet it provides could be a redeeming factor.

The past night had simply been another one of those nights where the sandman decided to completely skip over your house, so in result, sleep could not find you even as you toss and turned for a solid hour or so. And if there was one good thing about midnight (or really, early early morning at this point) runs to the grocery store it was the feeling of aimlessly walking around the aisles and feeling so separated from the world.

The thing is, aisle three with the Doritos and Capri-suns looked the exact same whether you were there at 4AM or 4PM. The same redundant music plays over the speakers as the same monotonous beep of the cash register molds together as background music. But something about walking around there at 4AM just felt other worldly.

So you suppose that’s the reason why you hopped in your car after deciding you were far from sleep and the reason why you’re spending dusk leaned against the trunk of your car munching on doritos and sipping from your juice packet.

But the gods must have decided it was high time for some company because eventually the owner of the car parked across yours came back from what looked like his midnight run and did the same.

On a regular day (and under daylight) you would have jumped back in your car and drove away because one: you’re wearing a faded tshirt that looked 3 sizes too big for you, and two: your hair at this point hasn’t made acquaintance with a hairbrush for the past 10 hours maybe.

But, it may have been his stance that had you relaxing immediately, the fact that this dude was fucking hot, his superior choice of Doritos flavor (it being cool ranch), or your belief about grocery stores under moonlight being otherworldly that had you staying put in your spot.

Though really, it was just him settling in a position similar to yours and popping his bag of chips open while telling you, “Don’t worry about me, just do your thing,” that made you throw a thumbs up in his direction and stay.

Apparently his name was Iwaizumi Hajime and that his roommate had come home drunk so he decided the best option was to leave the apartment all together.

“Cheers,” you call out, raising your juice pouch in offering.

“Cheers,” he replies, doing the same with his Gatorade bottle and laughing with you.

You spend the next few hours making comments about nothing in particular, sharing the mutual silence as the two of you tear through the packaging of the snacks in your respective plastic bags.

In moments like these, you don’t really bother to learn much about the stranger sharing the hours before daylight with you, but curiosity makes you ask tidbits about him anyway as he does to you.

And as the eastern side of the sky begins to light up with touches of the burning sun’s flames, you come to know that Iwaizumi Hajime is a gemini who used to play volleyball in high school, that he loved catching cicadas as much as he loved to release them, and noticed that his mouth pushed up to a pout whenever you said something that teased him.

He, on the other hand learned that you love the rain as much as you love the sound of wind chimes, and that you crack your knuckles when you’re nervous—which he teases at that has you pouting.

Though only the skies witness how the both of you spent the minutes watching the sunrise by stealing glances at each other whenever the both of you thought either was looking.

When you dust off dorito crumbs from your shirt and unlock your car door Hajime calls out your name telling you he’ll shoot you a text soon.

This time you smile. Because despite the break of the day and the rising chatter of people driving in and out of the world waking back up—Hajime’s smile on your mind still makes the moment feel otherworldly.  

 -

#8 Bokuto Koutarou: Linette | 7/11, 01:14 AM

The best conversations happen with strangers you meet because of the uncertainty of how long they’ll stay.

Then again, people are generally like that. But in this case, strangers that you meet at 1 in the morning while you stop by a 7/11 for ice cream means that it feels a little safer to be more unfiltered.

Much like he was, you suppose. It took no more than three steps in the store, and a nod of acknowledgement to the part timer who welcomed you for him to bellow a loud “hello” in your direction. And much like you expected, your greeting in return had been more on the awkward side.

“Late night munchies?” he said as he stood up, brushed off the crumbs on his shirt and followed you to the freezers in the back.

You nodded, and tried to limit your focus to which kind of ice cream you even wanted before jolting in surprise as he stood right next to you—perhaps a little too close and pointing at the strawberry flavored tub on the left side. He only laughed at your response before picking up a tub and gesturing to the counter.

“My treat,” he said, and up until now, you still have absolutely no clue what possessed you to agree. But you did, so now ten minutes later, you’re sitting across Bokuto Koutarou, the stranger from the 7/11 right outside your apartment unit sharing an ice cream tub he bought for the two of you to share.

Conversation with him was, for one, interesting.

He didn’t exactly pry but when you did talk you could practically see the focus glint, striking and evident in whirlpools of gold. You didn’t know much about him either—most of the things he said was information you really could have done just the same without but he put it out there anyway.

“Any reason why you’re out here at 1 in the morning buying strangers tubs of icecream and eating them outside a 7/11?” you ask and he shakes his head, laughing. You think about how fitting relaxed laughter is for him.

“Not really; just felt like eating shit tonight,” is his reply and you nod your head, not really curious enough for further explanation.

“You usually say yes when strangers offer to buy you ice cream at 1 in the morning?” he asks, returning your question with the same tone as you face him pointing your spoon in his direction in your defense.

“Not really,” you say, laughing, “just felt like trusting strangers tonight.”

“That’s deep,” he comments, nodding before scooping up more ice cream and popping the smooth in his mouth.

“Midnight conversations tend to run deep,” you reply, then scoop up and do the same. You smile, strawberry ice cream always reminded you of nostalgia.

The man across you laughs exhales, slumping further down his seat as he looks up at the sky. There’s not much stars in the city, but the way he smiles when he closes his eyes would make you think like he’s looking at the Milky Way itself swirling the secrets of the universe into the sky.

The silence you shared with him felt profound, almost.

“I don’t think you’d have the same conversation if you met me here at 1PM, though,” he tells you.

“You morph into a different person or something?” you laugh, responding.

“Something like that,” Bokuto says again and continues to face up; he’s still smiling, and you take note of that too.

“Different person or different thoughts?” you ask, and he nods at you, face scrunching up in thought at your question. He looks a little silly, you think.

“Different person, same thoughts, but usually with a filter,” he answers after some time, laughing.

“Then should I be glad I’m talking to you now?” you ask.

Bokuto sits back up before leaning on the table with his elbows, his eyes locked on you. The spark in his eyes look somewhat like the reflection of the streetlights behind you with how bright they are, but the flicker tells you it’s just a trick of the eye. Though, regardless of that, you find yourself entranced as you stare back at him.

“That depends on you,” is his answer to the question, so you counter with, “Does that mean I’ll get to meet this other person?”

Bokuto laughs and you notice how it echoes in the quiet street. “I guess so.”

When he turns to face the starless sky again and smile as if he’s watching the universe unfold, you do the same.

Strangers really do have stories to tell; in this case, you find yourself suddenly intrigued to learn all about his.

 -

[ditch-witches]

Farmer’s Daughter (Dean-Charles Chapman x reader)

I always say this, but @iongaa‘s work is so beautiful. Our account would not be the same without her.

Another big thank you for the beautiful breaker to @notwhimsical​, welcome to Tumblr. 

requested: yes/no (who ever requested this, bless your soul. this was kinda close to home. sorry it end up a bit different, but i hope it’s still enjoyable)

pairing: farmboy!Dean-Charles Chapman

warnings: honestly I can't think of any, sorry :(

word count: 2,821

a/n: Now accepting farm!Dean memes.

The summer sun beamed overhead as you kicked your feet up against the railing of your back porch, rocking yourself back and forth. Your eyes drifted shut in content, listening to the hum of the cicadas in the trees around you. You smiled to yourself as you heard the car belonging to your friend pull into your long looping driveway. She practically jumped from the vehicle, grabbing her shoes from the passenger side, sprinting up your sidewalk. You smiled and handed her a lemonade as she settled into the chair beside you.

"Did I miss it?" She asked, out of breath and flustered as she sank against the wood.

You shook your head, "Right on time actually." You gestured to the driveway as two pickup trucks took the same path she just had, pulling towards the barns in the back instead of up to the house. Your dad had been hiring men to farm his land with him every summer for the past few years, one of the only things about living out in the middle of nowhere that you enjoyed. They had become entertainment on days like today when there was nothing on the tv and you didn't feel like driving into town. You and your friend had been waiting for the turn of the season all year, giddy with excitement as the day had finally come.

The trucks began to empty, boys fresh from college needing cash for the summer and retired men who actually knew what they were doing were in full view of the two of you, perched on your back porch. You looked over the brim of your sunglasses at a boy with dark hair and a wide smile. He was nearly roughhousing with another that looked around your age. They settled down after one of the older men barked at them, the boy now taking the time to look over your estate. His blue eyes shined curiously before turning to fall on you, a small smirk gracing his lips. You chuckled, grabbing the magazine on the table beside you. "Damn, that one's a looker," your friend nearly growled beside you. You smiled a bit wider, your eyes drifting up from the pages back to the boy who sent you a wink before turning back to the tasks he was given.

"Which one?" You sighed, your sights lingering on him for just a bit longer.

Your friend giggled. "The one that was checking me out, silly!" You bit back a laugh, sinking into your rocking chair more, attempting to look disinterested. As attractive as most of the farmhands were, you have never let yourself date one, figuring it would be too distracting to have a summer fling, knowing you would get too attached. That and you had never truly given any of them the time of day. You stole another glance at the boy as he began to move bales of hay under the careful watch of one of the elders. "God, I would let him drag me up and down the lot," she groaned, making you laugh.

"Have you no mercy?" You joked.

Your giggles were cut short as the screen door slammed open, revealing your mother in her apron. "What do you girls think you're doing! Out here, bare-legged, in front of all those men! Get inside!" You laughed harder as she practically yanked the two of you indoors.

The next day, your mother made a fresh batch of sweet tea as she scolded you about covering up. You rolled your eyes with a small grin, not giving her much mind as you peaked out the window, seeing the boys hard at work again. She poured a few glasses and shooed you out the door to go apologize to the men for your inconsiderate behavior after she had approved of your outfit. You fought not to snicker at the situation as you walked up to the workers, a few of the elders that had worked the land before smiled at you, tipping their straw hats in your direction. "What can I do for you, ma'am?" One asked, making a few of the men turn up from their work.

The boy from the day before brightened at you, leaning against his hoe. You chewed the inside of your cheek. "I am here to apologize for my appearance yesterday," you sarcastically spoke, knowing full well that most of them hadn't even seen your shorts and the situation was trivial. Some of the men laugh, going for the glasses of tea you were balancing on a tray. "I'm sorry, it will not happen again."

"What a shame," one joked. He had gone to high school with your older brother and after recognizing him you attempted to trip him, leaving him giggling.

"I see you have some new kids this year?" You more asked than stated to the elder from earlier, hugging the tray to your chest and eyeballing the boy with blue eyes as he went back to work. Those famous eyes flashed up to you again, making you blush and look back at the elder.

"Yep. Don't know why all the boys want to work your old man's fields," he jested and you smirked.

"Maybe it's the pay," you poked back and the man chuckled. Your mother called you back inside and you sighed. "If you guys need anything else, she's ready," you quipped, gesturing to the women with her head out the window, yelling at you. The old man chuckled and you turned towards the house, looking over your shoulder at the boy once more, who sent you a sweet smile, making your heart flutter.

It was almost a routine for a few weeks, stealing small flirty gestures with the boy while your friend fawned over him or your mother having you take something out to the workers. You would have felt like a bother if it hadn't been for the smile and the brightness in his blue eyes that seemed to be reserved just for you. On their break days, your father allowed the boys to swim and fish in the pond on one part of your land. The truth was, your mother loved having the boys around as well, which is why they were allowed to do so. She had always wanted another son and it was always prevalent when a worker would ask for water, making her fawn over him like he was a stray puppy when, in reality, he would be a few years older than yourself.

"I've gotta talk to him, I'm going stir crazy," your friend muttered, fanning herself. It was the hottest part of the day. The wind had seemed to move two counties over, leaving your farm in the dead, dry heat. The boys were at the pond today because of said rising temperature.

You smiled slightly, shaking your head. "Why don't you?" Your heart fluttered as your thoughts flashed to his smile. Maybe if she implanted herself in his life, you'd finally get over your summer fling fantasies your mind plagued you with whenever he was around.

"I wouldn't even know where to begin," she sighed.

"You could give him your number?" Your blood boiled for a second with jealousy, a small flicker of hope that she would let him be.

She scoffed. "And risk my mother picking up the phone! No way." She chewed on her bottom lip. "I mean, I guess it's a risk well worth it right? Hell, you've seen him." She pulled a stick of gum from her purse, offering it to you and you rolled your eyes, taking the sugary confection and handing her back the wrapper, your stomach in knots as she scribbled the sequence of digits and folded it once. "Would you be a dear?"

It was your turn to scoff. "You think he's gonna bite you?"

"I can only hope," she leered, flashing you a devilish smirk. "Come on. You're his boss technically. He'll have to take it from you."

"Don't be a coward," you snapped, standing and pulling her with you. She whined, following after you as the two of you trudged towards the pond at the end of one of the fields, hidden from bypassers by a few overly grown trees. You shoved your hands in your pockets as you neared the water, the laughter and splashing of the boys growing louder. You popped your gum, slightly nervous as you came upon the group. Your friend froze in her place, shoving the paper in your hand and stepping back. You rolled your eyes. "Chicken shit," you hissed as a few of the boys caught sight of you, whistling slightly. You continued walking forward, smiling at the few you recognized.

The blue-eyed boy stood up from his seat, pulling on his white t-shirt as some of the boys followed his manners, resting a hand on one of the giant trees providing shade for a few of the boys. Some of them whistled slightly as you walked right up to the boy who crossed his arms and smirked down at you. You smiled slightly, your cheeks growing hot as you finally realized how much taller he was. His wet hair was growing curlier with the heat, his eyes still brilliant and bright at the sight of you. He furrowed his brows slightly as you handed him the wrapper, his rough fingers brushing against yours. "My friend's got her eye on you but," you sighed as he looked up at you through his long eyelashes, "she's too scared to come and talk to you herself," you called a bit louder so she could hear from where she was standing.

His grin grew a bit and he ran a hand through his dark hair. God, he was attractive. Your mouth grew dry. "Your friend huh?" He smugly looked over your shoulder, giving her a small wave. Your eyebrows raised at his accent as you fully realized you had never actually heard him speak before now. "And here I was thinking you were finally taking my line," he almost whispered to you slyly. You were glad the boys had lost interest and gone about their own business.

Your mouth opened slightly, fighting a smile. "Mister, I am merely the messenger." He smelled like the summer air on a good day.

He took the meat of his bottom lip between his teeth and you almost stuttered. What you wouldn't give to taste those lips. He pulled a jacket off the ground, digging into one of the pockets for a pen, pulling the lid off with his teeth. "Well, ma'am," he took your hand in his, the sensation of his skin against yours leaving you silent as he began to write something on your palm, "tell your friend that it'd probably be smarter for her to call me when she has the opportunity. Or just keep it for yourself. I like the chase, love," he jeered, sending you another smirk as you rolled your eyes with a blush. He blew on the ink, making goosebumps litter your body. What was he doing to you?

You cleared your throat, removing your hand from him reluctantly. "I'll see you around," you paused, looking down at the writing on your palm, "Dean." He smiled at you softly, waving to your friend once more as you turned to walk back towards her. You turned back slightly and gestured mildly to his palm. After your friend had taken down his number and left for the day, you lied awake as your stomach flipped at the thought of Dean, looking at your hand where his writing had once been. That boy was going to be too much for your own good, you decided.

You let a week draw by, hoping your friend and Dean would finally kick off so he would get out of your head. Despite attempting to dodge the boy as much as possible, you found yourself thinking about him during your free time, slowly driving yourself mad to catch a glimpse of him. You often wondered what it would have been like if you hadn't washed his number off your hand. Saturday had rolled around quicker than you had expected. Your friend had come over to hang out with you, a lazy grin on her face when you asked about him. "Oh god no. That didn't work out. That man's smitten with you," she uttered, putting her glasses back on her head as she closed her eyes and tilted her face towards the sun.

At her words, you stood up from your chair and took off for the pond, nearly knocking your friend out of her own chair as she called after you. You weren't sure what you were trying to accomplish, but the sun was beginning to set and you were hoping the boys hadn't left yet, at least the boy you were looking for. The guys were packing up as you got there and you scanned the group of them, catching the attention of one you recognized. "Where's Dean?" You asked, realizing just how out of breath you were.

He chuckled. "Finally, damn. He's in the stables. Took up a few extra hours." He gestured behind him as he spoke and you rushed to thank him.

The stables were quiet for the most part, the lulling of a country song from a radio the only sign of life. You took a deep breath, attempting to calm yourself as you stood in the entry of the stables, most of the stalls empty, but you spotted Dean at the end of the barn, raking hay. You twisted your hands together nervously as your shoes carried you mindlessly to him. Dean looked over his shoulder at the noise and as he caught sight of you, stood up straighter, leaning on his rake as he had earlier in the summer. His tired eyes softened as you tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. "You never called," he said, his voice heavy and exhausted.

You nodded slowly. "I'm kind of a handful," you answered, your heart fluttering as he smiled slightly.

"Me too," he threw back jokingly. He settled the rake against one of the walls, pulling his work gloves off and shoving them in his back pocket as he walked towards you. Your toes almost touched and you breathed deeply, wanting so badly to be wrapped in his arms. "You're probably bad for me anyway," he jested. As he swallowed, you watched his neck move, the sweat from work still glistening in the hot summer night. His dirty white shirt seemed to be calling for your touch.

You pressed your hands against his abdomen and he reached a hand up to brush his thumb against your cheek gently. You loved the coarseness of the pad of his thumb against your skin and your mind raced at his body beneath his shirt as you ran your hands up his chest. "I'm no good for you," you confirmed, glancing at his soft lips and his eyes. It was in the dim light of the stable that you realized the tint of pink on cheeks: the slightest bit of a sunburn. It made him seem almost younger. Your hands spread to his arms, pulling both of his hands up to your neck, wanting him to pull you closer. He smirked, stepping towards you, his lips ghosting against yours. Despite working in the stables, he still smelled like worn leather and sawdust. "Kiss me, Dean," you whispered and he obliged, pressing his lips against yours softly, a feather of affection for you almost mimicking his sweet smile as you offered him a glass of tea under the heat of the sun. He tasted like spearmint gum and sweat with a hint of something else.

You deepened the kiss, wanting to explore more of him and know him in this moment. During this kiss, you weren't kids who had been chasing each other for a month, finally getting the satisfaction of being in one another's presence. You were two people finally united from a past life, two sailors found after being lost at sea for ten years, two pilgrims meeting in a Shakespearean novel. As he sighed against your lips, his breath surrounded you, his hands dropping to your hips and pulling you closer to him. Your lips danced against his, never wanting to break from the man for as long as you lived as your fingers found their way into his curly hair. He broke the kiss, resting his forehead against yours before wrapping his arms around you and digging his face in your hair. Your arms strung around his neck, pressing your cheek against his shoulder. "You should have called," he murmured and you chuckled.

"I've got all summer to call you," you quipped.

He chuckled, brushing hair out of your face. "I'll have to hold you to that, ma'am."

[mcfanely]

Memories

A short drabble I wrote for @razzle-zazzle‘s Blinded AU, a bit of calmness in a sea of all the angst I love to write (I hope you like it, Zaz!)

Months after the events of the Sons’ of Garmadon, promptly getting thrown into the First-Realm followed by the Oni invasion, there hadn’t been much time to just... sit down and think. Think about what had happened with Ultra Violet and the last thing Cole ever saw before his vision went blank. 

And what followed.

1520 words

Cole had sat himself down, outside, just barely within the courtyard of the monastery. It was good to be back, to have so much time to just be at a place he considered home; the sunlight warm on his face as it flowed through the gap in the wall that the open gates provided and the feeling of stones and gravel under his bare palms was abrasive but tactile, calming as he carefully moved the pads of his fingers over the small ridges. 

Getting banished to a whole other realm, coming back and then getting thrown into a new problem and an entirely new battle - two in fact, Garmadon and then the Oni, it had been hard for everyone. No time for a break, not really. That was the life of a Ninja. 

Taxing in every way, but when they finally got some down time?

Time to relax without a world ending problem taking up every moment of the day. Time that Cole could use to just enjoy the light breeze as the day slowly delved into its evening state, the sun dipping below the horizon. He could feel it, the chill as shadows stretched over him inch by inch and the warm line of the dipping light.

Until his attention was drawn away. Maybe it was the shift in the air beside his head, or the slight tremors running through the ground, or even the light breathing he could hear. And he could hear it, easily. Better than he could have done a few mere months back. 

The only issue was, he wasn't the best at differentiating anything yet, even after going so long without his sight. He could sense people, sense movement and depth, but nothing much past that. Though he was learning gradually.

It seemed like years since he'd ever seen anything, when in reality it had been months.

"You've been sitting out here for most of the day." Came a croaky, soft voice. Wu.

The scrape of the bo staff on the ground confirmed his suspicions. How had he not noticed that? 

Cole smiled, and gave a short nod. "It's nice. The weather has been pretty good over the past few days, Sensei. And, you know, we don't always have time to sit and enjoy it."

It was a weird but welcomed dynamic change that they'd all experienced during their run-ins with the Sons' of Garmadon, and then the escapade through the First Realm. They had their master back, after so long. After wavering hope and doubt that he was even still alive, or even in their own present day anymore. 

But being there, raising him from the baby he had been stuck as, it... Was odd.

Cole felt like he'd learnt more about Wu from caring for the man as a child than he had with all the years training under the mysterious Sensei.

"I noticed you aren't wearing your blindfold." it was said with a questioning tone, and the crinkle of fabric and a huffed out breath followed, Wu sat down.

Cole shrugged, "It's not like I need it up here. No one to scare with my lack of eyes." He chuckled, humour. It helped him work through trauma, and it was trauma. There had been time between the initial injury and present day, but that didn't negate from what he'd experienced. The pain of the spelled blade, the heat, the burning, the smell. It made his stomach roll just thinking about it. He swallowed hard, around a sudden lump in his throat.

Sensei Wu seemed to pick up on the motion, there was movement. Cole just turned his head in the Sensei's general direction and smiled. He didn't know what the injury looked like, but he knew it wasn't good. It never had looked good really, all it had done was heal thankfully without an infection and the perpetual ache had subsided. Zane had told him one night, when they'd gotten to talking on the roof of the monastery, that it looked like raised skin. Discoloured, scarred, some areas lighter, some a lot darker. That his eyes, well, his eyelids had healed closed but he knew that there was nothing behind them. Cole knew that, he couldn't feel anything there. He couldn't see. He'd describe it as blackness, but in reality it was literally nothing at all. As much as anyone could see if they asked what they saw from their elbow.

"I remember the day you found me." Wu said plainly, abruptly. Cole felt himself pause, one eyebrow raising. "When I was a baby." He elaborated.

Cole frowned, "You remember... Being a baby?"

"You have to understand, what I was subject to was not normal development. I went from a young child to an adolescent youth in the matter of a few hours. I remember everything."

The earth ninja couldn't help but blow out a heavy breath. "So you remember..?"

Wu paused, as if thinking over how he was going to word what he was going to say. Or even if he should say it. "I remember the blood." He stated. "That covered most of the injury but I supposed it made it look worse than it was."

"I don't know Sensei, it felt pretty bad." Cole laughed lightly.

He felt a tap of the bo staff on his shoulder and huffed. If he still had eyes, he'd roll them.

"I know you remember it too. More so, in fact."

It was a prompt, an opening to speak about something that he resolutely avoided in lieu of other problems.

Cole swallowed hard , "I remember the pain. The fact that the last thing I ever saw was stone walls and Ultra Violet diving at me with the knife." He whispered, their surroundings seemed to follow suit. Birds became quiet, cicadas in the grass stopped their chirping. It was like the world took a breath. "Everything flashed white, and then nothing. I remember coming around and you were making baby noises. I... Could feel everything. The blood, the burns, I honestly…" Cole's voice fell below a whisper, "I wanted to cry but I couldn't." He ducked his head.

"And amongst all of that, you still got me and yourself to safety."

"Sensei--"

"You put everything that had happened to the back of your mind, you adapted to the situation and you found your way to safety, even without your vision."

Cole cleared his throat and shook his head. He could feel a catch in his voice, and he knew if he spoke again it would break, just as he had yet to do so over the situation

Yet he did, "Why're you mentioning this now?"

"Because you need to hear it." Wu said plainly. "You need to know that you're not alone with this. And even though I may be a crotchety old man," Cole smirked, and received a harder staff tap to the back of his head. He winced and brought his hand up to rub the knock.

"I am your mentor, and I'm here to talk to. Just as your brothers are."

There was a light breeze and Cole hefted a heavy breath, nodding slowly to the words. They made sense, and he had heeded them before. If the conversation was broached, he would talk about what happened. He was doing so now. Bottling emotions wasn't exactly his forte, he was more for waiting until there was time to let them out. The only issue was free time rarely came. "I'm fine, Sensei. Really. I'm okay. And I'm sorry you remembered what happened."

"Apologies from those who are not at fault get neither party anywhere but closer to understanding each other. It is not your fault that what you experienced was traumatic. It is not your fault that I remember what happened."

"Sensei, I don't get what point you're trying to make." Cole admitted slowly as he pulled his legs up against his chest.

"What I'm saying is, eyesight or not, safety or peril, your immediate action upon getting grievously injured was to protect someone else. To protect me, whether you knew who I was or not. It's why I chose you Cole, all those years back on that mountain top."

Cole paused, listened.

"Because when all seems lost and hopeless, when you're in pain, you still put others first. You do the right thing, to the detriment of yourself." Wu stood, using his staff as support. "Whilst putting yourself in harm's way, I don't advise; your heart is always in the right place."

He felt a hand rest on his shoulder, the touch firm but gentle. Cole couldn't help but give a small smile.

"It's why you're the leader, and why you continue to be the one everyone looks to."

"Sensei--"

Sensei Wu paused, presumably looking back, not that Cole could tell easily. "Disability does not equal to inability. You are proof of that, Cole. You work with your circumstances, you are every bit the person you used to be and more.

"I am here to thank you. And to tell you that I am very proud of who you've become."

-

AO3

[athingthatwantsvirginia]

Catherine, Heathcliff, and Shangri-la

PART TEN OF THE DO YOU SEE HER FACE? SERIES

Pairing: Jess Mariano x Original Character (Ella Stevens)

Warnings: mentions of death, smoking, plentiful pop culture references

Word Count: 4.9K

Summary: Though she plans to spend her birthday alone, Ella ends up passing time on the late August evening with Jess, eating old pie and playing cards.

She looked like a dream in her sundress. Late August light bathed the crowds at the summer festival, and Ella practically glimmered when Jess spotted her from across the square. It made him feel like an idiot thinking the way he was, but she had an effect on him which he’d previously only read about in books. He wasn’t sure exactly when the tipping point had been, when he’d truly fallen in love with her, passed the point of no return. But he had. And he was. He loved a girl who didn’t believe in love, who wasn’t into dating, who didn’t feel the same. It had never been so complicated before, and he’d never been so completely screwed. There were moments, times when his heart nearly burst from the hope. When she laughed at one of his wiseass remarks, or ran her fingertips over the notes he’d left in the margins of her poetry books, or let her eyes linger on him for just a second too long. But each time, she would brush it off, act like nothing had happened. And he’d be forced to wonder if he’d imagined the electricity passing between them.

Slowly, over the course of the summer, he was beginning to come to terms with it. Maybe they could just be friends, coworkers. Maybe all he needed was to make out with Shane until his lips were swollen and his mind was blank and his memory would be wiped clean of all the times Ella had made him feel deeper than he ever had before. Besides, he had never fallen in love before, had never uttered the three fateful words in all his seventeen years. A small part of him believed he could snap out of it easily.

He took his eyes back from her form, concentrating on the girl in front of him. The girl who wanted him and nothing more. Who meant nothing but ease and pleasure. Sliding his hands down in her back pockets, Jess closed his eyes and placed kisses down Shane’s neck, the bark of the tree they leaned on rough against his back.

.   .   .

“She’s back with a vengeance!” Ella exclaimed, wrapping her arms around Rory in a gleeful embrace.

They stood together near a flower stand, the fragrant display adding sweetness to the air. Despite the barber shop quartet droning on in the background, Ella felt her spirits lift at the sight of Rory Gilmore, her confidant missing in action over the summer at an internship in Washington. In the back of her mind, Ella couldn’t help reminding herself that soon, she would have to deal with the constant separation. Rory would be off at Harvard, Lane would be touring with her band (hopefully), and Ella would be stuck. As she always had been. She’d have to fill Rory in on how the college applications were going later.

Rory laughed happily, pulling away from Ella and holding her at an arm’s length. “Yes, and with all the hot DC gossip.”

“I’m intrigued,” Ella said, raising an eyebrow.

From behind them, Lorelai beamed, her own face painted with joy, her daughter back in town. Ella loved that about summer. It had a special kind of magic no other season could manage, positivity radiating from everyone, dampened only by the occasional rainy day.

“Alright, let’s go find Lane, and we are in for a movie night of epic proportions!” Lorelai announced, strolling around the square with the two teens in tow.

Before they departed completely, however, Rory followed Ella’s distracted gaze to the old oak where Jess stood, eating his girlfriend’s face.

“Oh, God!” Rory exclaimed, scrunching up her face in disgust.

Ella blushed, Rory having noticed her staring. She hadn’t meant to. But seeing the two of them together, considering the many fights with Shane the summer had brought, gave her a feeling of irritated uneasiness. Like a car crash she couldn’t look away from. Morbid interest feeding morbid interest in a vicious, voyeuristic cycle.

Tilting her head to the scene in question, Lorelai scoffed. “Guess he’s got his ‘What I Did This Summer’ essay all planned out.”

“I know,” Ella groaned. “America’s youth really does have such admirable modesty.”

Snorting a laugh, Rory shot a knowing look at her mother. “Have they been at that a lot?”

Ella nodded, speeding up in her stride a little to get out of view of the display. “Yep. It’s now part of the Early Bird Special at the diner. Dinner and a show.”

Lorelai faked a gag. “I told you. The kid gives off major Sid Vicious vibes.”

“Looks like he’s found his Nancy,” Rory added.

“And he’s been so weird at work lately. He barely talks to me, just sits on his little stool. Reading, brooding, scaring off small children. Maybe I pissed him off. I don’t know,” Ella said. She fiddled with the chain of her necklace.

“Um….Ella?” Rory began, bringing a hand to the blonde girl’s shoulder. “Do you not realize you’re the Catherine to his Heathcliff?”

Ella scoffed, laughing breathily. “What?”

“He’s totally into you!” Lorelai exclaimed.

Raising a brow, Ella rolled her eyes and kept walking. She crossed her arms over her chest defiantly. “Very funny.”

“Every time he looks at you…” Lorelai said, feigning a swoony look. “It’s sickening.”

“Yeah, right. I bet it’s Rory he’s into,” Ella argued, shrugging them off once more.

“Oh really?” Rory asked skeptically. “Then why does he make those notes in your margins? In the poetry books he said he hated when he first got here?”

“It’s mutually assured destruction,” Ella explained. “If he stops taking a chance on poetry, I’ll stop taking a chance on the beats. The arguments would ensue, the diner would descend into chaos. In an effort to avoid certain death during our shifts together, we compromise.”

“Ah, the key to a strong relationship’s foundation,” Lorelai retorted.

Snorting a laugh, Ella shook her head. Without the flowers and the serenity of solitude, the less desirable aspects of the festival began to wear on Ella’s psyche. The barber shop quartet spun around and around in her head, making her dizzy, and the sun beat down on them. Stray strands of hair, fallen from her bun, began to stick to her damp forehead.

Suddenly, an idea occurred to Ella. “Rory, my dear?”

“Yes?” Rory answered with suspicion.

“You know how you always give me presents on my birthday even though I tell you not to?” Ella asked.

“I’m aware of the annual birthday commiseration,” Rory said, nodding.

“Well, I’d like to request, as a birthday present for your favorite waitress, a moratorium on the Jess talk until I am seventeen years and one day old,” Ella suggested, fluttering her eyelashes jokingly.

Sighing, Rory linked her arm with Ella’s. “Alright, but only because you asked so very nicely.”

“Good to have you back, Thelma,” Ella smiled fondly, pulling her friend a little closer.

“Same to you, Louise.”

Lorelai chuckled and shook her head, watching as the girls ascended the steps to Lane’s door.

.   .   .

Mercifully, Ella had made it through the day with minimal birthday wishes and no attempts at gift-giving. Lorelai and Rory had teased her about a surprise party, but she knew they wouldn’t truly dare. Instead of going home, where she knew she’d have to brave Fiona’s pathetic attempts at celebration, she wandered around town aimlessly. It made her feel guilty to snap at the woman so much, but she just couldn’t help herself. Watching Fiona, only twelve years her senior, traipsing around in her house, humming the Dixie Chicks songs she knew her mother would’ve hated. Before she could apply any rational thought to the decision, she found her way to the bridge. The greenish-black water sparkled in glowing moonlight. Crickets sung and cicadas buzzed, a low summer tune. She hung her booted feet over the edge, the black cotton of her dress pooling around her knees. Rifling through her shoulder bag to the side, she found a copy of The Grapes of Wrath. A perfect book to sustain her gloomy mood. She laid back against the wooden planks of the pier, holding the novel above her face, blocking out the view of the clear night. The humidity had dissipated, and a cool breeze blew past her.

A few peaceful moments had passed before she heard footfalls thumping heavily, vibrating beneath her back. She sighed as the noise got closer, letting the book fall to her chest and rolling her eyes.

“Stealing my spot, huh?” Jess spoke up as he approached, shoving his hands in the pockets of his jeans.

“Sorry, didn’t realize you’d bought the property.”

“Touché.”

Though Ella still hadn’t looked over at him, she heard him sit down next to her. She could smell the subtle mixture of hair gel and pine.

“By all means, sit down,” she snapped, sitting up again, placing her scrap of construction paper back in the book to save her place. She stuffed it back in her bag to the left. Fiddling with the end of the loose braid which hung over her shoulder, she sighed again.

Jess scoffed. “Jeez, Daria. Don’t pull your punches.”

“Bite me, Jess,” she replied flatly, staring out across the water. In the light, she knew she would’ve been able to watch schools of tiny grey fish whizzing by. As a child, she’d imagined small mermaids living in a crystalline village beneath the surface of the dull silt and sand.

“Feelin’ pithy tonight?” he drawled, an eyebrow raised.

“You could say that.”

He only nodded, leaning back on his palms. Silence stood between the two of them, heavy in the nighttime air. Ella almost put her nails to her mouth, then thought better of it. When Jess still didn’t speak, she huffed out a big breath and finally tossed him a glance.

“Don’t you have someone to verbally abuse at the diner or a girlfriend’s face to suck or something?” she asked.

Jess shot her a look. Before he could even respond, Ella spoke again.

“As long as you’re here, could you loan me a cigarette?” she asked, a shameful blush coloring her cheeks. As much as the request embarrassed her, she couldn’t stand the way her skin was crawling.

“What?” Jess blurted out, eyes wide. “What happened to the periodic surgeon general’s warnings?”

She sighed, dropping her gaze to her lap and clearing her throat. “I’ve gotta keep you on your toes, don’t I?”

Though slightly flabbergasted, Jess’s eyes shone fondly, remembering the carriage ride they’d taken at the Bracebridge dinner so many months ago. After a moment, he produced a crumpled packet and a lighter from his pocket and handed them to her.

“Thank you,” she muttered, placing a cigarette between her lips. It surprised her that he actually obliged, considering how stand-offish he’d been at work lately. The lighter struck on the first try, the small orange flame flickering warmly in the darkness. And Jess could tell immediately it was far from the first time she’d smoked. She handed the supplies back to him.

He took a cigarette of his own and lit it up.

“Don’t tell Luke,” she said, voice slightly husky as she exhaled the first puff of smoke. Her words came out in dim blue clouds.

“I wouldn’t dare,” he replied, tapping ash into the lake and watching it burn out. “Your secret is safe, Stevens.”

“Thanks. I’ll consider it a birthday present,” she grumbled, feeling the familiar burn of smoke in her chest. She knew she would regret the decision in the morning.

“It’s your birthday?”

“Yep.”

“Happy birthday,” he said reflexively, eyebrows raised.

Scoffing bitterly, Ella flicked ash off her cigarette with her thumb. “Thanks, Mariano.”

“Is that why you’re gonna bite my head off at the next wrong move?”

She laughed humorlessly. “Yeah, birthdays aren’t my thing.”

“Huh. And I guess that’s why no one said anything at work?”

Ella nodded. “Yeah, after a few crying customers last year, Luke ordered the diner a birthday-free zone.”

“Wise of him.”

“It was.”

Regarding her in the moonlight, Jess sighed. “Any particular reason for the birthday allergy?”

Swallowing harshly, Ella brought her free hand to her necklace and a smirk formed on her face. “It’s just...my mom was a big birthday person. Without her here, it just all feels a little artificial. It’s weird. The anniversary of the day she died never hits me as hard as Mother’s Day, or today.”

He nodded, solemn as she continued.

“I try to spend as little time at home as I can. And Rory and Lorelai always try to get me to do something,” she said, pausing to inhale deeply and blow out a stream of smoke. “But I am nothing if not pertinacious.”

“Nice. Ten-cent word.”

“Thanks. Used it in the crossword this morning. I’d say it’s at least twenty cents,” she said, scoffing in mock offense.

Jess chuckled. “Alright, I’ll cave for the birthday girl.”

“How kind of you.”

Crushing the smoldering butt of her cigarette on the weathered bridge wood, Ella exhaled out her nose and crossed one leg over the other.  She smoothed her hands over her dress. Somewhere, a loon cried. Jess sat quietly beside her, the last of his cigarette glowing as he inhaled. When he put it out, he stood up and made to leave. Ella didn’t say a word, didn’t even look at him. After a second of thought, he held a hesitant hand out to her.

“Let’s go back to the diner,” he proposed with finality. “We can eat the leftover pie. There will be no birthday talk whatsoever. I promise.”

Looking at his hand, Ella thought of the book in her bag. The hours she could spend alone with nothing but Steinbeck to entertain her. But then, she felt a sudden rush of courage at the thought of Luke’s. Free of people, with pastries under the glass domes on the counters and stale pies in the back fridge. And Jess. She heaved a sigh, then slung her bag over her shoulder and grabbed his hand.

.   .   .

“No way,” Jess said, shaking his head doubtfully as he took another bite of the pie.

Ella smiled, nodding. “I swear. I was named the worst dancer out of all the little girls ever taught at Miss Patty’s by the Gazette. I was responsible for the domino incident of 1992 which caused two sprained ankles and one broken arm. Suffice it to say, the arm was mine.”

“Jesus,” Jess laughed, his eyebrows raised.

“Yeah, I’m Patrick Swayze’s worst nightmare.”

Jess rolled his eyes and threw his head back with a dramatic groan. “I’ll never understand your fixation with those cheesy eighties movies.”

“You bite your tongue, heathen,” she said lightly, digging another bite from the cold apple pie in the tin between them.

“Well, at least we can agree on Steinbeck,” he shrugged through a laugh.

She nodded and sighed tiredly, brought a hand to her necklace.

The diner shone brightly against the otherwise dark landscape of Main Street. Ella could hear Luke snoring from all the way upstairs, but it was almost comforting if not amusing. With the leftover pie between them, she and Jess sat alone amongst chairs stacked on tables and cutlery put away. It smelled vaguely of disinfectant, but the pine was still there, making her heart feel just a touch less broken. Maybe being alone wasn’t the best way to pass one of the hardest days of her year.

“I’m surprised she still even lets you step foot in the studio, leaving that much carnage in your wake,” Jess said, smirking at the way the tension slowly released from her shoulders.

Snorting a laugh, Ella took another bite of the pie. She could tell it was made from her recipe, heavy on the cinnamon. “Well, the years have improved my coordination a little bit.”

“But have they?” he teased.

“Shut up,” she retorted, good nature in her voice.

A comfortable pause filled the air. Jess’s eyes caught her thin fingers still rolling the silver chain of her necklace. She blew up a long breath and straightened up, putting her fork back down in the tin, the half-pie almost all the way gone.

Nodding, Jess swallowed dryly and bit at his lip. “Why do you wear that necklace every day?”

Eyes widening, Ella couldn’t help but feel taken aback by the question. She let out a self-conscious scoff and her hand immediately dropped away from her collar. The small silver charm, a key, glinted in the yellow diner light.

“My grandmother gave it to me,” she explained, her tone even though she avoided his eyes. “It’s the key to the jewelry box she had when she was little. The box got lost, but the key stayed. She was a singer. Friends with Miss Patty. Pretty fucking cool.”

Jess smiled a tiny smile. “Sounds like it.”

“Yeah,” she replied, the word a sigh. Then, after a beat, she regained her direct nature and looked him in the eye. “Okay, since we’re asking questions tonight: why the hell are there bongos on the shelf above your desk?”

Jess laughed, but his cheeks reddened a touch. “Those were there when I moved in. Scout’s Honor.”

She rolled her eyes. “You are the last person in the world they would ever let into the Scouts.”

“Wow, that one hurt.”

Ella smiled. “Then what’s Luke doing with those bongos?”

“Preparing for a Matthew McConaughey,” Jess shot back knowingly.

“Ugh, that image is gonna be burned in my mind forever,” she groaned, nose scrunching up in disgust.

“You’re welcome.”

“Fuck you,” she said, grinning.

“Right back at ya.”

Suddenly, a loud snore came from the floor above them.

“Speaking of,” Ella grumbled, only in mock irritation.

“Like you don’t snore.”

“Only when I’m drunk,” she said, then looked up at him, accusatory. “But you. Oh my god, it was all night long. Really, the two of you put together could probably break some sonic records.”

Instead of retorting, Jess retrieved his weathered deck of cards from one of his jean pockets. He raised his eyebrows as a challenge and began shuffling. “Just for that last comment, you’re about to be massacred at Rummy.”

.   .   .

A knot of anxiety sat in her stomach, but work was helping her keep it at bay. It was the last Saturday of summer, Monday the start of senior year. But the waves of butterflies fluttering around in her chest weren’t ones of nervousness, more only of dread. The constant drudgery of school work, the monotony of the day. She liked summer for more reasons than the mood and the weather. Free time to read, to draw, to paint. And she much preferred painting the full greenery over the desolate landscapes of a Connecticut winter. The fact she hadn’t seen Jess since the night before, when she left the diner satisfied with herself for winning three hands in a row, was doing nothing to calm her either. After cleaning up from the breakfast rush, Ella was mindlessly reorganizing the mugs on the cubby shelf to the left of the counter by color and size.

“Alright, this is ridiculous,” Luke admonished, walking up behind her.

She scoffed. “It’s not my fault these mugs haven’t been reorganized since Reagan was president.”

“Because they were the last ones you hadn’t got your hands on. You’re starting to sound like Taylor.”

Instantly, she turned and narrowed her eyes at him. “The next time you say that to me I’m turning in my apron and never looking back!”

Luke scoffed in disbelief at her dramatics. “Just take your break, Ella.”

“You think I’m bluffing,” she warned, untying her apron and leaving it on the hook near the kitchen window, “but I’m dead serious.”

“I’m quaking in my boots,” Luke replied flatly, gathering some receipts from the side of the cash register.

“I bet,” she shot back, rounding the corner and going to dig through her bag, hanging by the front door. “Is Jess here? I’ve got a book for him.”

“Upstairs,” Luke said shortly.

Retracting her hand from the shoulder bag, with a worn collection of Dorothy Parker, she rolled her eyes. She tucked her hair behind her ears and prepared to disappear behind the checkered curtain on the way to the stairs.

“Has anyone ever told you you’re a master conversationalist?” she asked.

“Shaddup,” he groaned, waving an annoyed hand at her in the direction of the apartment.

Ella snickered, then bounded up the stairs, the soles of her old converse a little slippery on the creaking wood. She heard the TV droning on from inside, daytime Saturday shows. Only a couple short knocks sounded on the door before she let herself in, as she had so many times before when fetching random items during her shifts.

“Hey, Jess-” she began, turning to the left, Jess’s room.

Cut off by a sudden flash of noise, she watched Jess stuff a blue mesh vest quickly into the top drawer of his dresser. Eyes wide with surprise, he faced her with a scowl, brows scrunched up.

“Ever hear of knocking, Daria?” he snapped.

Processing the scene before her, Ella blinked a couple times and bit the inside of her cheek. “Sorry. Guess I was too quiet.”

“Apparently.” He crossed his arms over his Punk Planet t-shirt and looked at her expectantly. “You need something?”

Ella cleared her throat, looking down at the book in her hands. “Yeah, I had that Dorothy Parker I was telling you about last night and…” she paused, glancing at his dresser. “I’m sorry, Jess, but I simply can’t ignore this. Was that a Walmart vest?”

“What?”

“You heard me.”

He straightened up, defensively. “No.”

“Really?”

“You heard me,” he shot back.

Pursing her lips, she nodded, unconvinced. She stepped a little closer to him, one hand on the hip of her skirt. “So, what was it?”

“A shirt.”

“A shirt with a Walmart logo on it?” she asked, her voice gaining a teasing lilt.

Jess scoffed. “I think you need glasses.”

A momentary staring contest ensued, and she watched him squirm under her hazel gaze. “Do you work at Walmart, Jess?”

Sighing through his nose, Jess glared at her. Then, he ran a hand through his hair and side-stepped Ella, making his way to the kitchen. “Fine. Yes. You happy?”

Instantly, a smile spread wide on her face. “Oh, so very happy.”

“Glad to hear it,” he growled, avoiding eye contact as he popped open a can of soda. He sat down at the kitchen table, facing the I Dream of Jeannie rerun.

Biting back her giggles, Ella came over to take the rickety kitchen chair next to him. Clearing her throat, she put the book in her hand on the table between then. She smoothed her slightly wrinkled Patti Smith t-shirt and tried to appear nonchalant, a smirk ever-present on her lips. Jess sipped his soda, eyes dark and moody, embarrassment underneath a thin layer of irritation. Nearly five minutes passed on the oven clock in the small kitchen, both of them watching Barbara Eden’s foibles in silence. Ella bit a little at her nails, but only to mask her amused expression.

“So...all this time...Shangri-la was Walmart?” she asked.

Jess sighed, rolling his eyes. “Eleanor-”

“You work at Walmart,” she repeated, chuckling a little.

“Whatever. You smoke,” he countered.

“Like, twice a year,” she said defensively. “When did you even start that job?”

Bowing his head slightly, Jess finally dropped the act a bit. “June. When you were in New Britain.”

She sighed, nodding, then brought a hand to his arm. “I’m really proud of you. I mean, you can’t waste all your people skills at the diner.”

Jess shook her off and rolled his eyes again. “Shut up. I move stock around on a fork-lift in the back.”

“Okay, tough guy.”

“And don’t tell Luke,” he said, finally looking her in the eye.

She shrugged. “Fine, I won’t. Cross my heart.”

“Thank you,” he snapped.

“You’re very welcome,” she replied, still grinning. “Seriously, though, it’s not that lame. Trust me. I think it’s cool. You have your own thing going, y’know?”

Jess scoffed in doubt but said nothing more.

Clearing her throat, Ella shifted her eyes down to her lap for a second, the tone of her voice changing. “But enough about your double-life, Mr. Bond. I just wanted to bring you that book. And also thank you for last night.”

Jess raised a brow, eyes on the TV screen. “For what?”

“I don’t know. If you hadn’t come along, my plan was to read Steinbeck at the lake, then sneak home and listen to Nirvana through my headphones,” she explained. “But instead I got to eat old pie and kick your ass at cards.”

“Such a sore winner,” he muttered, cracking a little smirk.

She laughed quietly, her fingers finding their way to her necklace. “And sorry if I was...I don’t usually talk about my mom. Not exactly a crowd-pleasing topic. Just on Mother’s Day and my birthday, I...You didn’t have to listen.”

“Don’t worry. I don’t do things I don’t wanna do,” he said, casting her a momentary glance, a small, lopsided smile on his face. It was more genuine than she was prepared for, and she had to look away as her cheeks heated up.

Rising from the table, she made to leave, hoping not to overstay her welcome. “Anyway, thanks. It was the best birthday I’ve had in awhile.”

Running a hand over his mouth, Jess blew out a breath and faced her fully again. “Anytime, Stevens.”

He looked as though he were about to say something more, but she could practically see him swallow it down. Instead, he got up from his seat and switched off the TV. Going over to his side of the apartment, she watched him grab a CD from the top of a small stack on his dresser. She couldn’t quite read the cover, but could see it was filled with shades of black and red.

“How long do you have left on your break?”

Ella looked down at her watch then back up at him. “Still have about twenty minutes.”

He nodded, gesturing to the CD. “I get fifteen percent off at the store, so I picked this up the other day. Just came out. It made me think of you. I thought you might wanna listen?”

“Oh,” she said dumbly, surprised. She nodded. “Yeah, yeah, sure. As long as it’s not jazz.”

“It’s not,” Jess assured her, chuckling.

As he opened his closet and brought out the small stereo, she took a few steps closer, arms crossed. She couldn’t help the fluttering in her chest or the way her cheeks flushed with heat. In all the time she’d known Jess, she couldn’t remember ever feeling quite so anxious around him. Quite so antsy. She almost couldn’t explain the feeling, but it wasn’t one she minded.

“I would’ve shown you last night if I knew it was your birthday,” he mentioned as he pressed play.

As the music started, he suddenly didn’t know what to do with himself. Sit on the bed? On his desk chair? Instead, he leaned on the desktop itself, hands stuffed in his pockets. He regretted the decision already, showing her the music. He’d meant to do it at some point, during one of their friendly book exchanges. But then the air between them had become charged again, and she was about to walk away from the moment. He wanted it to last just a little longer, time with the one person in Stars Hollow he actually enjoyed being with. Even if she didn’t feel quite the same as him, even if she never would.

Ella felt the slight vibrations of the music in the soles of her soles as she stepped closer to the stereo, picking up the CD case from his dresser. She turned it over in her hands. Turn on the Bright Lights by Interpol. It surprised her she hadn’t heard of them before; Lane usually kept her in the know about such things. They must have been very young, very new. But she liked it, the echoing guitars and the drums. Judging from the back cover, the song to which they now listened was simply called “Untitled.”

“They’re good,” she said, putting the case back down. “Different. I like it.”

Jess shrugged. “Figured you would. What with all that sad shit you listen to. The other songs are a little more lively. They’re no Fleetwood Mac, but…”

Walking closer still, she stopped when she was only a couple feet in front of him. Her heart beat with the music, and she swallowed dryly. Something was clicking in her head.

“Jess?”

He looked up, and his brown eyes locked with hers. “Yeah?”

Before she could rethink it, before she could talk herself out of it, before she could silence her heart with her head, she brought a hand to the back of his neck and kissed him. His shock was sudden but brief. Almost immediately, he wound his arms around her waist. And he was kissing back, sweetly, gently at first, then deeper. She was flush against him, smiling into it. The music beat quietly around them, and his grip was warm, and his lips felt exactly right. Ella wanted it to never end, for the moment to last forever, alive, and never cross over and turn to mere memory.

[razzle-zazzle]

A prologue

1643 Words; TW for implied death

All things must eventually come to an end.

It was a fact of life in Faryndel. Seasons would change from crispy summers to cool autumns, from frigid winters to foggy springs. Villagers, old and young, from sickness, injury, or age, would meet their end, leaving the world to their descendents. Years would pass, things would change, and someday, the little farming village in Horn Valley would fall into ruin, forgotten with time. Nothing, not even the great kingdom of Aurumva, would last forever.

And it is with one of these endings that our story begins.

+=+=+=+=+

Winter in Horn Valley was a frigid, three-foot-deep-snow affair, a time when all outside seemed to stand still but for the flurrying flakes carried by whistling winds. It was a time when the residents of the little valley town would keep to their homes, venturing away from the warmth of their fires only for the sake of hunting. It was a time when the Moon ruled the land, and the earth slept beneath its blanket of snow and ice.

Of course, the valley would not be frozen forever.

The seasons were due to change soon, and it seemed the Moon was determined to put on one last show before the ice gave way to the foggy downpours of spring. This grand finale of blizzards carried with it the ultimate chill of the season, a cold that permeated down to the bone, creeping like shadows into even the warmest homes. The wind, too, was relentless, howling its siren song as it clawed at everything within reach. And it was this wind that carried the cold, slamming it against the walls of buildings.

Paige rubbed her hands together for the umpteenth time, but the chill in the room was persistent. Not even shoving her desk next to the wood stove was enough; her fingers were red at the tips, and her freckled nose was starting to resemble her hair in color, as ripe and red as a cherry.

On the desk before her, illuminated in candlelight as pale as clay, was the parchment she was writing on. An open book on the history of Faryndel was next to it.

“Why am I even bothering?” Paige grumbled, pulling her coat tighter around herself. “I hate this backwater village.”

Yet here she was, in the library’s private study, trying to gain a grasp of the subjects laid out before her.

Paige picked up the quill again.

Winter would not last for much longer. And with the Moon’s leave comes the start of spring, and with that came the part of Paige’s stay here that she was dreading the most.

Teaching.

It was not her strong suit.

Children were annoying, terrible things. A plague upon all of Aurumva, really. Grimey gremlins with little care for such lofty subjects as literature. Honestly, there were far better ways for Paige to apply her intellect than dealing with snot-nosed brats.

And yet, Paige was going to have to work with one of them.

Paige grimaced, setting the quill down to shift her chair closer to the fire. “But of course this middle-of-nowhere valley village has no scribes of its own. It’s a wonder these philistine farmers even had a library to begin with.”

Fuck, it was cold. Even the candles looked like they could use a warm sweater. The fire had burned through the majority of its fuel, its glow flirting with the shadows in the room like the ocean waves with the shore.

Standing up, Paige grumbled as she opened the woodstove. The fire wooshed softly as heat billowed out, as though warm arms were embracing Paige. She reveled in it.

Paige reached into the coal box next to it, grabbing logs and adding them to the fire. Hopefully, this would be enough to last the rest of the night. If it wasn’t…

Paige shivered.

Before closing the stove, she held her hands out in front of it. She just wanted to go to bed for the night, but no, she had to spend the coldest night of the year learning about this plebeian farming village in the middle of nowhere.

But Paige had a job to do. Begrudgingly, resentfully, she closed the door and returned to her work.

The fire crackled. Ink was put to paper. Outside, the wind bellowed, singing like cicadas as it scratched at the doors and whispered into the night. It did not care about the happenings of the little valley town, nor did it feel any sort of sympathy for the scribe sitting in her study, shivering; it was not in the wind’s nature to care. The wind would continue to blow; the world would continue to turn.

Were it not for the slow and steady melting of the candles, the study would have seemed frozen in time. A capsule, separated from the ever-moving world outside it.

But unfortunately, time never stops. And as the hours continued their never ending march to nowhere, Paige could feel her throat starting to burn. Her eyelids were getting heavier by the second. Her penmanship was becoming sloppier with every letter.

So she kept herself awake the best way she knew: complaining.

“Eoddamn good-for-nothing guildmaster sending me to this nothing town—”

Thunk.

Paige paused. She set the quill down.

It sounded like someone was in the library. But what kind of imbecile would be out in this storm?

Something clattered.

Paige huffed. “Oh, of course.” Some idiot must have entered the library to take shelter from the storm. She stood up, closing the inkwell and marking her place in the book before her with a strip of parchment. Paige grabbed one of the candlesticks, holding it in her left hand. She might as well make sure the trespasser wasn’t burning books to keep themselves warm.

As Paige opened the door to step out into the hall, she shivered. The library was normally a cozy place, much more inviting than the spartan study. But “normally” didn’t apply to whiteout blizzards late at night.

Paige cast one last longing glance at the wood stove. She could already feel its warm glow beckoning her to return to it.

Something else thumped against the floor, louder this time. Paige sighed in resignation, grabbing a stick in her other hand in case she needed to defend herself. At the very least, she had an excuse to stop working for the moment.

The hall really wasn’t much of a hall; it was more of a small closet, separating the library’s public and private areas. There were only three doors, and, like the study, no windows.

Paige headed towards the third door, stepping through to the area behind the librarian’s desk.

Unlike the study, which had been alight with the warm glow of the fire, the library was swathed in shadows—but for the small halo of light coming from Paige’s candle. It flickered, casting the bookshelves and the librarian’s desk in a dim glow.

Now the sounds were unmistakably that of rustling clothes and claws clicking against wood.

Paige started making her way around the shelves.

A pale green glow was emanating from the back corner of the room. Witchfire, Paige thought, though she wasn’t an expert.

In that back corner, hunched over in front of a bookshelf, was a cloaked figure. The hood was down, revealing two lupine ears.

A lycan, then.

Paige sneered. Barbarian brute. Seeking shelter from the storm, then.

“If you’re looking for books to burn, stop right now.”

The lycan paused their searching, turning to look at Paige. The green light was coming from an amulet they were holding; it cast their face in a soft glow.

There was a pregnant pause.

The lycan returned to their searching, holding the amulet up to each book as though it would reveal something.

Paige’s lips curled into a frown. “Um, hello?” She stepped forwards. “Did you even hear me?”

The lycan paused. They stood up, and—oh, wow, they were taller than Paige expected. As if seeing Paige for the first time, they spoke. “You’re the librarian here?”

“Well,” Paige huffed, “I’m actually a scribe, but yes, I am the acting librarian for this town.”

“Good enough.” The lycan said, gray eyes sizing Paige up.

Paige shuddered. Forget the weather—middle of nowhere villages like this were riddled with Anima filth. “And what do you want?”

“Is it not obvious?” If Paige had believed the lycan capable of it, she might have heard a sarcastic lilt to their voice. “I’m in a library, obviously I’m looking for a book.”

“You’re looking… for a book.” Paige’s voice was rife with disbelief.

The lycan smiled, face split in a wolfish grin. “Yes, I’m looking for a book.”

Paige sighed. “Alright,” She gestured with her stick, “The children’s section is over there—”

“Oh no, you misunderstand.” The lycan pushed past her, following the amulet’s glow towards the desk. “I’m looking for a certain book.”

Paige frowned. “Well, you can’t go back there.” She pointed out, entirely reasonably.

“Too bad.” The lycan said dismissively, already behind the desk. “I’m not leaving without that book.”

Paige sputtered. “What—no!” She moved in front of the lycan, brandishing her stick. “I’m not allowing a barbarian like you in here.”

All at once, the lycan's affable demeanor disappeared. “Get out of my way.” They threatened, baring their teeth.

Paige trembled, but held her ground.

“I said,” The lycan growled, “Get out of my way.”

Outside, uncaring of the events of mortals, the wind continued to sing.

+=+=+=+=+

All things must eventually come to an end.

It was a fact of life in Faryndel. And when the villagers awoke the next morning, and the alchemist’s apprentice found the results of the previous night’s scuffle, they did not view it as some great tragedy. They had things to do, preparations to make.

They would move on, as all things do.

[backtothestart02]

Return to Paradise - 2/? | westallen fanfiction

A/N: The chapters will be much longer after this one. I hope you enjoy!

*Many thanks to @valeriemperez for beta’ing.

...

Chapter 2 -

Barry stood, watching Iris and Nora say goodbye to everyone else at STAR Labs, and tried his very best not to look depressed. Whenever Iris and Nora turned his way, he put on a brilliant smile. And truthfully, it would be fun getting to go on a vacation with Nora when they’d never had one together. He just wished it wasn’t right now.

He was all for embracing being a father to his adult daughter – though it was still a little weird, he couldn’t lie – but his need to have Iris all to himself was stronger than it had ever been, especiall after existing in a reality where she thought he looked like Oliver. And now every time they shared even the purest, fully-clothed moment, it would likely be interrupted by their very chatty, very present daughter, Nora West-Allen.

Somehow, he had to get his mind right. Iris had obviously accomplished it already, which was understandable since she hadn’t experienced a separate reality that she could remember.

“This was awfully nice of you to suggest,” Joe said, who also had no memory of the alternate reality and had come back to Central City with Cecile and Jenna for the Christmas holiday season.

“Actually, I suggested it!” Nora chirped, beaming proudly.

Joe looked over at her. “Oh, did you now?” He looked back at Barry, smiling. “How did that come up?”

“Oh, simple really.” Nora bounded over. “I went upstairs to wake up my parents, and –” She paused. “Well, they were already awake.”

Iris cleared her throat, stepping across the room before her dad could connect the dots.

“She heard Barry and I talking about a vacation before Christmas and –”

“Invited myself along!”

“I…see.” Joe looked back and forth between his daughter, son-in-law, and granddaughter.

“We’ll be back in time for Christmas,” Barry said, squeezing Joe’s shoulder. “It’ll only be a week, maybe ten days.”

“Ten days,” Nora said, with stars in her eyes.

Barry swallowed hard and muttered under his breath, “Or maybe seven.”

Cisco, who was watching the entire scene unfold before him, suddenly picked up on the clues dropping like flies. Something was very wrong here.

“Hey, Barry?”

Barry looked over at him, relieved to briefly be out of the conversation involving the enthusiasm of a family vacation.

“Yeah?”

“Can I talk to you for a minute?” He gestured to the hall.

“What- Uh, sure, man.” He lowered his voice as he slipped past his girls, “’Scuse me.”

He followed Cisco into the hall until they couldn’t be heard and that’s when his best friend hit him with the mother of all questions.

“Why aren’t you excited about this vacation?”

“What?!” Barry squeaked. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said, voice still high-pitched. “I am. I totally am.” He willed his voice to lower. “I am.” But it lowered a lot, making him look awfully suspicious.

Cisco folded his arms.

“Spill, Bartholomew.”

Barry sighed.

“Okay, so there was this time change…”

Cisco hit him.

“It wasn’t my fault this time!”

“Whose fault was it then, Flash?”

“Shh!” He looked around worriedly.

“No one can hear us.” Cisco rolled his eyes. “But you, sir, have some explaining to do.”

Barry looked back at him and prepared to tell his tale.

“Okay, well, there’s a lot involved, and I’ll tell you all of it some other time, but there was a crossover and the bad guy was constantly changing realities to what he personally wanted.”

“Huh. Seems legit. Go on.”

“In the first reality I woke up to, only one thing had changed. I was Green Arrow and Oliver was the Flash.”

Cisco almost laughed at the ‘Green Arrow’ bit. Almost. But then he started to understand.

“Wait. Just you two had swapped? Not your wiv-”

Barry shook his head.

“Ah. So, you had to see Iris madly in love with Oliver thinking he was you.”

Barry glared.

“Just clarifying!”

“Yes,” Barry ground out.

“Did you ever get through to her? I mean, as Oliver?”

“Eventually, yeah.”

“What’d you say?” Cisco asked curiously.

“That she’s my lightning rod, obviously.”

Cisco’s lips twitched. “Works every time.”

There was a pause, then—

“Wait, if you had to see that, then I’m guessing your suggestion of a vacation was actually as a redo honeymoon and that Nora jumped to conclusions and invited herself, and she was so excited you didn’t know how to say no but now you’re stuck?”

Barry winced. “Yeah, that pretty much sums it up.”

“Dude, why didn’t you tell me? We can get Nora out of the picture. Surely she’d understand if you told her.”

“No. Absolutely not.”

“Why not?” he demanded.

“She’s never had a vacation with her dad, Cisco.”

Cisco softened.

“If I take this away from her now… after we just had that breakthrough over Thanksgiving, I…”

“So, don’t take it away from her. Plan a family vacation over the summer. Cicada should be locked up by then, and you’ll probably have a few months before the next Big Bad comes around trying to kill you and everyone you love.” He patted his arm lovingly.

Barry snorted. “I wish I could say you were joking.”

“But I’m not. Go with God, my man.” He pushed him back towards the cortex. “Oh, and out of curiosity, who else knows about this crossover that none of us remember?”

“Just Iris. Listen, I can’t just—”

“You can and you will. Go!”

They both entered the cortex again, just in time for an ecstatic Nora West-Allen to squeal and call her dad over for a family picture. Everyone else was smiling watching them, and even Iris warmed to seeing him again. Barry wondered if she was as prepared for this trip as he was.

“Come on, babe,” she called out to him, gesturing to their daughter. “Picture time!” She laughed a little.

Cisco suddenly understood.

“Have a fun family vacation, oh, dear friend of mine.” He clutched Barry’s shoulder.

“Thanks,” he said dryly.

He squeezed his friend’s hand to near pain and then rejoined his family.

…

It took only seconds for Nora to start her interrogation once they’d gathered their luggage together at the loft.

“So, where are we going?” she asked, swinging one leg over her knee as she sat on top of the only half-filled suitcase meant for her.

“Bali,” Iris said, or started to. “It’s where we had-”

“Your honeymoon! Oh, yes! I love Bali.”

Barry’s lips twitched. “You’ve…been to Bali before?”

“Mhmm.” She nodded ecstatically. “You didn’t tell me much about your past growing up, Mom, but I did manage to find out where the two of you went on your honeymoon. It’s a trip getting there, isn’t it?” She blew a lock of hair out of her face. “Thank goodness we’re speedsters and don’t have to get sweaty sitting on a plane for a day and a half.”

Barry thought about the plane trips last year, and how well, yeah, they would’ve loved to spend their time doing other things and were pretty much exhausted by the time they arrived, but it was also a sweet time, and a sexy time for part of it, despite the complications of a tiny bathroom. The next time they were able to get away, he’d been hoping to get some of that first-class mile-high seating where you actually had a private suite and your chairs turned into a bed.

Not to mention, he’d planned to up the romance with the type of hotel suite they got this time. Maybe they’d get a villa or one of those tropical huts that extended way out into the water.

But all of that was moot with a third party.

“That sounds great,” Iris said, and Barry realized Nora must’ve been talking, listing things she wanted to do or things she had done. At least he guessed that’s what it had been when Iris’ elbow hit his side forcefully.

“Ow,” he mouthed. Neither woman took note of his reaction.

“So, we’re speeding there, right?” Nora asked hopefully. “I want to get started right away. Today should be a beach day!”

Barry thought of his and Iris’ beach days the year before and how this would be nothing like it. But then he reminded himself why he’d agreed to this venture in the first place. Nora’s eyes were glittering as she looked up at him, likely imagining all the father-daughter moments they hadn’t gotten when she was growing up that she would now get.

“Sure, why not? We’ll have to stop at a hotel first and make sure there’s actually a place to stay, though, since this isn’t a day trip,” he joked lightly. Neither woman got it.

“Great!” She cheered, jumping up and down. “It might take a couple trips, but I’m sure we can get all the suitcases to the villa I stayed at when I was down there.”

“Are you sure it’ll be there, Nora?” Iris asked. “I mean, we are 25 years ahead of schedule,” she joked. Nora laughed lightly, obligingly. Barry hid a smile.

“It should be there,” Nora said, eager to get past the awkward moment and bad mom joke. “But if it’s not, there should be some like it. It’s not like villas were just invented in my lifetime.”

Iris looked at Barry who smiled encouragingly. A possible villa had been part of his plan initially anyway.

“All right, a villa it is.”

Nora was gone with half the luggage in her arms before returning back for the rest.

“See you guys there!”

And then she was gone again, leaving no indication of exactly where in Bali she was going to. It was a tourist destination. She could’ve literally gone anywhere.

Barry looked down at his wife of one year and grinned.

“What are you smiling about?”

“Oh, nothing. I just like my piece of luggage I get to take with me, that’s all.”

“Did you just call me a piece of luggage?”

“Light as a feather,” he promised her, then sealed his promise with a kiss.

Iris moaned in irritation when he pulled away.

“What?” he asked on a laugh.

“Who knows the next time we’ll be alone together like this? You’re gonna leave me with just a peck? Really?”

He laughed, then sped her to the side of the building for a hot ‘n heavy passionate kiss worthy of an award. Iris was breathless when he pulled back this time.

“Was that better?” he teased.

She rolled her eyes, but she was smiling as she nodded.

“Ready now?”

She took a breath and nodded.

“Let’s get this family vacation started.”

In a flash of color and wind, they were gone.

...

*Also posted on AO3 and FFnet.

[fleebledotcomrbls]

You Matter

Chapter 5

Summary: Logan sneaks out with Remy

Tw: Suffocation, Talks of death, Verbal Fighting, Outing somone as trans (its in passing but fair waring), metions of violence, almost drowning (let me know if i missed one)

Words: 1897

 The day seemed to drag as he watched the clock tick all day. It was friday and eleven o’clock He had his first training session with the hero's tomorrow. His mind was pulled right back into reality as Declan returned from his last meeting of the day. 

“Hey Lo,” He smiled at Logan. His eyes were heavier than usual, “Tonight I'm heading home to Remus. He will come with me in the morning to see you. Remember the rules.”

“Stay in my room. Don’t touch anything, and nobody comes in or out.” Logan recited. His father put these rules in place when he was ten. Tonight was the first night he was breaking them. There should be no reason Declan suspected him, but he couldn’t help but toss and turn these past nights. Right now is when it could all fall apart. If his dad suspected him for a minute. He called upon every bit of his minimal acting abilities.

“Good,” Declan looked straight into Logan’s eyes. Logan tried to keep his poker face, “You need to go to bed on time. You look like you aren’t getting enough sleep.” Declan grabbed his cheek and gave him a quick peck, “Love you.”

“Ew.” Logan deadpanned. Declan laughed as he exited the room.

Logan relaxed and looked down at his outfit. He knew it would be bad to show up in a onesie, but what else could he wear? He ran to the cluttered sideroom, with his bed and assortment of materials for all his interests.

He looked to his closet. It was full of star maps and more importantly his clothes. He looked through his closet. He had a lot of the same pair of jeans,  shirts from the lab, and flip-flops. He assumed he shouldn’t show up in his favorite shirt that says, ‘Got Powers?’. He scoured finding nothing. He looked across his room to see Declan’s mini drawer he keeps in Logan’s bedroom. He dug through the drawer, he saw a lot of the same shirts, but in his father’s size. Then, he saw a simple black polo shirt and a blue tie. He smiled and pulled the shirt and tie on. He grabbed his jeans. He went up to the door of his room and before he opened the door, he grabbed the R coin, and put it in his pocket.

He walked to the back of the lab, he had snuck out before, but it was to the edge of the woods. He never left sight of the lab. He saw the back door. He bolted a sudden jolt of excitement rushing through him. He felt someone grab his arm, and he felt the air push out of his lungs.

“What are you doing here kid!’ The attacker was looking at his band and let go of Logan’s arm. Recoiling as if he had touched fire.He went to grab his walkie-talkie as he fell onto the ground. Remy stood behind him, his palm outstretched. He had a small backpack.

“Snitches get stitches,” He looked up at Logan, “Ya ready to head out not so secret spy.”

Logan looked down at the man and placed a hand on his chest. Remy quickly took his hand, “He’s asleep. Nobody’s powers can kill someone. For someone who's been surrounded by powers your whole life, that would seem like a no brainer.”

 As Remy opened the door Logan contemplated the words. Letting their weight sit on him. Remy was right, Logan should know more about powers. He had met so many empaths and power canclers, and lots of people whose powers were extremely emotionally driven. He was allowed to walk around like any kid at one point, but that was when he was four or five. They decided to isolate him after he made a huge vacuum around other kids. They didn’t want him endangering others. It hit him that Remy was the first person he talked to with powers that wasn’t trying to control him in a long time.

Logan stepped into the dank grass outside, the smell of rain dancing in his nostrils. He felt a chill. The cold hitting his bare arms, Remy grabbed a flashlight from his bag. The stars shone bright, Logan couldn’t help but stare. He had seen so many photos and had plenty of maps, but the real thing was beautiful. The stars flickered, and Logan’s eyes dragged across the sky, to find the familiar shapes. There's Mars, Sirius, Orion, and The Big Dipper.

“Logan!” Logan was broke from his trance by Remy, “We’ve got to head out. We can go look at the stars in Carnville. The sky is clearer there anyway. We will be walking a mile or two, so we can’t wait around.”

Logan was not as strong as he should be. He walks around the Lab often, it was nothing like the road they walked on, but Remy distracted him.

“What's your favorite color?” Remy interrupted the cicada’s single note song.

“Blue. Yours?”

“Brown. Now you ask a question.”

“Hm,” Logan contemplated the question to ask,”Why are you here? You seem to have control over your power.”

“Some kids started attacking this other kid. Some kid could read minds, and outed this kid as trans. The kid started getting bullied, but some kid started beating the crap out of him. I put the kid to sleep. Their mom freaked and threanted sueing my mom, so I lied and said it was an accident. You?”

Logan should have expected the question to be asked back, but he had no plan. Almost everyone he's met has already knew why. He decided on a half truth, “I was put away for weak control on my powers.”

“For nine years? Damn, this place is dedicated. Hmm, you got any hobbies?”

“I like the stars, reading, and studying the periodic table.” Logan looked back to see the hospital completely out of view. There was no going back now.

“Down there is the road the superheroes from the academy use to go on missions, were following just far away enough so that they can’t see us,” Remy pointed to the left as a distant siren was heard, “So Mr.Nine Years, how is the outside world?”

“Cold, wet, and…”Logan looked to the sky, “Beautiful.”

“Yeah, after a rain most likely wasn’t prime time to sneak out, but we can still have fun.”

“I quite enjoy it.” Remy laughed at that. The walk continued with back and forth conversation.

Logan started to smell something salty, “Whats thats smell.”

Remy’s eyes lit up, “Just my favorite scent in the whole world.” Remy grabbed Logan’s wrist and raced off. Logan nearly tripped on multiple branches just trying to keep pace. Logan saw a faint light through the woods.

Remy broke through the trees, “This is Carnvill.” The town was alive despite it being at least 1 am. The market in the center was full of people trading goods. A bar nearby was lit up with fairy lights and people’s laughter. Actually, everything had fairy lights. There was a beautiful orange glow. The smell...had much to be desired. Logan looked to his left to see the ocean.

It was the first time Logan had seen the ocean, even though his whole life he had been around it. It was enchanting. The stars were reflected in the waves, and the glow of the town highlighted the sea. It was haunting, no one knew exactly what was beneath the water, but damn was it beautiful.

“I knew you would love it,” Remy led logan to a cliff that looked over the ocean, “Now we can stargaze. Those woods were not a good view.” Remy was right, it was an amazing view. The clouds had cleared. Logan could see the stars as if it was a picture…,but it wasn’t. It was real. Logan shivered the cold nipping at his nose. As Remy put his jacket on Logan, he couldn’t help it as water vapor came from his eyes. It only got worse as the rocks became liquidy.

“Whoa! Is something wrong?” The boy’s cool attitude slipped. Logan just started bawling harder.

“I-It’s j-ust the-that you.” Logan was suddenly sobbing, “You don’t think i’m dangerous.God, I hate emotions!” Remy turned to Logan and hugged him.

“Logan, when I saw that band I froze. I had written you off as someone who never questioned the system,” Logan felt vapor rise from his shoulders, “but then I saw that band. You never had time to question it. Heck, you never had people to help you question it. Have you ever thought for just a moment,” Remy pulled away, his face was damp, “That you’re allowed to feel and be a kid.”

Logan stood up, “No.” He tried to calm himself. He can’t...He can’t let his emotions get the better of him. That's when they hurt people, “You don’t know my me. What I’ve done.”

“Logan, You were 4!”

“I STILL DID IT!”

“YOU SHOULDN’T BE PUNISHED BY NOT LIVING,” It dawned on Logan that Remy was crying, “NINE YEARS! You’ve never played with a Wii or-or heard Lizzo! No first day of school. No having your friend pressure you into listening to MCR! NO CHILDHOOD!”

Logan felt something roll down his cheeks, he placed a hand to see liquid tears come out his eyes. Liquid, huh. That's the first time that had happened. This is the first time a lot of things have happened. Logan sat on the edge of the cliff and awkwardly patted next to him. Remy sat down, “I’ve never listened to MCR. You’re my- You’re my friend. You can peer pressure me.” Remy looked at Logan and started laughing. Remy fished something out his bag. He pulled out a cellular phone and a cup. He placed the phone in the cup and then he reached a hand out to Logan. Logan took his hand and Remy pressed his phone as lyrics came out.

Teenagers scare the living shit out of me

“Logan for once. Stop caring!” and Logan did. In this small town in the middle of nowhere. He danced and danced. Remy danced along with Logan. Steam started clouding around them. They were in their own world. Than Logan heard Remy scream,

Logan was alert in minutes. He ran as he saw Remy plummet of the cliff. Terror in his eyes. Logan jumped. As he fell he grabbed Remy mid-air. As they descended Logan felt a harsh smack. Logan realised suddenly that they were in a...bubble? of ice? Remy suddenly let go.

“HOLY SHIT! I ALMOST DIED.” Remy started laughing.

Logan started crying, “I’m sorry. Remy we’re gonna die in here.”

“Hey Hey Hey. Shh. Don’t be like that. Yeah maybe we might suffocate, but at least we're not alone.” Remy laughed.

“God, how are you so positive. We could DIE. Were most likely going to.”

“Decide your last words.”

“What?”

“If we’re gonna die we need good last words.”

“At least we’re getting to see the bottom of the ocean.”

“Dang, how am I supposed to top that,” Logan felt lightheaded, “Umm, Into the unknown.”

“Logan, hug me.” Logan did and as Logan hugged him, he started to feel sleepy. He knew Remy was putting him to sleep, but he was too tired to care.

“Into the unknown…”

Taglist: @thewhiteraven73 @hereforapathylogic @illogicalthinking @power-in-plain-sight

[fangirlfiction]

Born to Hide

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Word Count: 2.5k

Summary: Part 2 of the Born To series. A foreboding warning from someone from your past sends you on the run. But no one was made to run forever.

Warnings: Mentions of explosions, death, injuries, blood. There’s also some fighting, and a break in. 

A/N: hi this is one of my favorite parts of this mini series, and I hope you like it too! I am still accepting taglist requests for this series and any of my other writings! just send me an ask :) i love you all

last part here // series masterlist

You open the door to the trailer, and look out at the twilight sky. The stars are beginning their slow ascent into the sky, and the cicadas are humming loudly. You breathe in the sweet Summer air, and you are just about to close the door when you see him. He’s sitting on the bench in your yard, and his hair looks longer than you remember it. As you draw closer, you can see the stack of photographs in his hand and sitting at his side. He turns as you reach the bench, before moving the photos and making space for you to sit beside him. Wordlessly, he passes the photos to you, and you look down at them.

They’re old and weathered, and the edges are fraying a bit. Some of the photos are torn or creased, likely from being stored improperly. You look over at him as you pass the photos back, and there is a soft smile on his face. You smile in return as he sifts through the photos and holds one up. You’re both sitting side by side, almost like you are now, and smiling at each other. It’s easy to miss the mess of bodies that lay around you in the picture, but your eyes start to focus on them the more you study the picture. “This one is my favorite.”

You frown, “None of them are my favorite.”

He cocks his head to the side. “Why not?”

“Because they remind me of a different me.” You meet his eyes. “And a different you. When we left, we swore we’d never become those people again.”

He shrugs, and returns the picture to the stack. You eye him suspiciously, “Bucky, what are you doing? Why are you here?”

He brushes the hair back from your face. “I’m here to deliver a message.”

You hear screaming in the distance, and you turn and look around in confusion. Bucky tugs your chin back to him, and you now see the fear deep in his eyes. “They’re coming, you need to run.”

“What?”

“They’re coming! Wake up, you need to wake-”

-

“UP!”

You open your eyes, and blink against the brightness of the sun. A shadow hovers in and out of your vision, and as your eyes focus, you watch as her mouth moves, but no sound comes out. Seconds later the ringing begins, loud and high pitched, and you grimace against it. As you blink and lift a hand to your head, the ringing starts to dissipate slowly, and the woman’s words start to get through to you. “Wake up! Ma’am, are you okay? You need to wake up!”

You pull your hand away from your head, shocked to find it coated in blood. You start to rise slowly, but she pushes you back down. “Woah, woah, hold on there! Help is on the way, but you need to stay still.”

Someone cries out somewhere behind you, and she glances their way and nods before looking back down at you. “Hold tight right here for me, okay? I’m just going to check on that gentleman over there.”

She runs off, leaving you to check your head again. As you start to rise slowly, something about her words stirs something up in your brain. Gentlemen. Danny.

You turn to your left and you are shocked to find that you are no longer in the car next to Danny. Instead, you are halfway between the remains of his truck and the sidewalk. All around you, various other cars and their debris are scattered, and there are bodies in every corner of your vision. Screaming, crying, bloody...dead. And that word is enough to make you rise to your feet, eyes scanning the area for any sign of him. 

You find him a minute later, also thrown from the truck, surrounded by debris. But you don’t need to get close to him to know one undeniable fact. Danny is already gone.

You drop to your knees beside him and close his eyes, before looking up and looking around. Something about the bodies pulls a memory from your head, and you suddenly remember Bucky and his warning. They’re coming, you need to run.

You scan the street again, and catch a glimpse of movement near the intersection. As your eyes strain to focus, a chill crawls up your spine. You don’t know what it is, because you are still too dazed to focus and process. But you trust your instinct, you grab your bag, and you run. 

-

As you run from the sirens and chaos of the explosion, you know that you need to get cleaned up, first and foremost, because running down the street bloodied and bruised was not the way to keep a low profile. You stick to side streets and areas with minimal traffic, as you search for a quiet neighborhood. It takes a while, but eventually, you find yourself at the front of a neighborhood with a pretty sign and rows of trees and flowers. The houses are modestly sized, but many seem empty for the day, with no cars in the driveway or lights inside. After racking your brain for a moment, you remember that the Patriots are playing today, and it’s a home game, meaning most people will be at the game or at watch parties. You send a silent thank you to the universe for this small gift.

After surveying the houses on the street, you settle on an empty one near the back of the neighborhood, which appears to be surrounded by equally empty looking houses. You sneak around the back and slip in through the back gate, careful to keep your face low in case they have security cameras. You creep towards the back door, and almost cheer when you see two french doors, made of mostly glass. You find a rock and smash the glass, before reaching in and unlocking the door.

You step into what appears to be their dining room, and you move through the dining room, past the living room, and down a short hallway into what looks like the master bedroom. You make a beeline for the closet and pull open the doors, pleased to find a closet full of clothes that will fit well enough. You grab a pair of jeans and a long sleeve shirt, before searching for a dresser and finding a pair of socks. You stumble into the bathroom, and for the first time, get a good look at what the explosion did to you. 

You are covered in cuts and bruises, most of them unconcerning, except for the gash on your forehead, and a cut on your left calf. You are covered in dirt and grime, and your race suit is burnt and torn. There’s also a burn on your lower back, likely from some flying debris. But all in all, you feel lucky to be alive. You clean up the best you can, using the first aid supplies you find in the bathroom cabinet. After bandaging the worst of your injuries and cleaning the dirt from your face, you pull on the clean clothes, lace up your boots, and pull your hair out of your face. You reach into the backpack beside you and find the cinched bag that you normally keep in the money box. Airport security is still no match for partial alien tech, and you were able to smuggle it on and off the plane with no issues. You leave the buckle in the bag and shove the bag back inside your backpack before tucking the gun into the waistband of your pants at the small of your back. 

You leave the bedroom in search of the kitchen, where you manage to find some food to bring with you, and you happily stuff it into your backpack, along with a few bottles of water. The last thing you do is look for a pad of paper, where you scrawl an apology to the homeowner, and drop a wad of tips from the diner. You know it’s not enough to cover the damage, but at least it’s something. 

You grab the tattered remains of your suit and your backpack, and you leave the house, being careful to avoid any prying eyes or nosy neighbors. When you reach the end of the street, you look around before jogging into the wooded area around the neighborhood. You follow the sun through the trees until it brings you out into a neighborhood that is mid construction. As you pass a dumpster for the building debris, you toss your torn suit inside and cover it with some of the discarded materials, before scoping out one of the houses for a place to crash for the night. You end up finding one that is built enough to keep you sheltered from the elements, without requiring you to cause any more damage. You map out all the exits before you settle down for the rest that your body desperately craves.

-

When you open the door to the trailer, you find him sitting on your bench again. You wander out to meet him, slow and skeptical, more weary since the last time you saw him. This time, he doesn’t turn as you approach. He keeps his head turned to the sky, eyes mapping the stars. It takes a while for him to break the silence, but when he does, his voice is quiet and he almost sounds hurt. “Why did you leave?”

You rear back a little, surprised by the question, before turning to face him. “Honestly?”

He nods, eyes still trained on the sky, and you sigh. “When we left, we swore we’d change. We swore we’d never be the monsters they trained us to be. Instead, we joined the Avengers, and it felt like we were the same monsters, just fighting under a different flag. A different logo.”

He turns to you, “I love you.” Your eyes widen, surprised, before he corrects himself. “Loved. I loved you. And you left me.”

“Bucky…” You trail off, unsure what to say.

“Why didn’t you just talk to me? Tell me how you were feeling? We could have figured it out.”

You scoff, “Because we were never trained to talk it out, or discuss our feelings. We were trained to kill and we were trained to run. That’s it. And you had a family again, Steve and Nat, Sam. I didn’t want to mess that up.”

“But you were my family.”

You feel a lump form in your throat, but before you can answer, sirens cut through the air around you. You turn to Bucky in a panic, and he mutters one phrase, voice monotone. “Time’s up.”

-

Your eyes fly open, and you pull yourself to a sitting position quickly. Your blood turns cold when you realize the sirens aren’t a manifestation of your dreams. Instead, they’re echoing in the early dawn air around you. You grab your bag and run to the back of the half finished house, before flying out of the open doorway and into the cool dawn air. You are relieved to find no cops or cars outside of the house, but you know they are close. You take off running, sticking close to the treeline that surrounds the neighborhood. As you round a corner of houses to follow the trees, you nearly choke when you collide with a man a few years older than you. Your brain instantly reverts back to its training, and despite your head injury, you run through all of the information quickly. 

One man, alone. No back up. Uniform is neat, but the pattern of wrinkles look like he sticks to a desk job mostly. Low ranking, easy target. 

He seems just as shocked to see you, and fails to finish the command he’s directing at you before you attack. “Hands-”

The last word dies in his throat as you leap at him, using your momentum to spin around him and put him in a choke hold. He struggles against you, but his size gives him no advantage with you. You’re trained to eliminate the enemies advantage, no matter what. Eventually, he struggles less and less, until he is out cold. You lower him to the ground carefully, before eyeing the landscape around you, worried that he truly isn’t alone. Finding no one, you continue on your path, as quickly as you can possibly be while still being careful. You manage to follow the trees to the edge of the neighborhood, before it opens out into a road. There are no cars in the area, and the road is surrounded by a deep drainage ditch on either side. 

You make a quick dash to the ditch and jump inside, before crouching and following it up the road and away from the neighborhood. Up ahead, you can see that the ditch eventually ends, which will force you to jump out and travel along the road, in the open. You run through other escape routes in your mind, but struggle to find any that are less risky than this one. With a quiet sigh, you start to climb out of the ditch. As you pull yourself over the side, you are shocked to come face to face with a pair of boots, and before you can react, you feel no less than 6 guns press into your back. “Don’t move.”

You stay frozen in place, trying to map the location of the people around you, the early form of a plan already falling into place in your mind. They yank your backpack off and pull your gun from your waistband, before tossing it to the side, away from you. In order to pat you down and search for more weapons, some of the men step away from you, weapons lowering. You use the moment to your advantage, and as they roll you over to check your front, you leap into action. 

One man is leaning over you, checking you, so you pull your head back and then slam it forward, colliding with his and forcing him to rear back in pain. You jump to your feet and swipe your leg out, knocking over the two men that were situated to your left. Hearing someone approaching from behind, you swing your elbow back and connect with the man’s nose, breaking it instantly. He cries out and backs away from you, opening up space for you to swing a kick forward and catch another man between his legs. He drops to the ground with a groan, and you look around for your gun, preparing to take out the last man. You spot it on the right so you roll towards it, grabbing the gun in one smooth motion, before jumping to your feet and pointing the gun at the man in front of you. The man stands there, arms held up in mock surrender as he flashes you a smirk. And when your eyes meet his, you feel all the air leave your lungs in a rush, and your body go numb. You drop the gun, and as it clatters to the ground, you mutter in disbelief, “Bucky?”

-

part three here!

[un-official-artist]

A Man is a Horse, of Course!

An Rdr2 Centaur Au

Pairings: Charles Smith x Arthur Morgan

Part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5

The sun was rising over the Great Plains, turning the sky pink and orange, and making the clouds bright yellow. Arthur woke up slowly, scrunching his nose and yawning as he lifted up his head to see his surroundings. He looked around to see Sean still asleep, propped up against a large rock by the middle of the small stretch of land. Arthur smiled mischievously and began to get up to scare the young man awake, but was stopped when he felt something wrapped around his waist. He looked down, to see Charles was clinging to him, fast asleep, and had his face buried into his shoulder. Arthur looked at him and his eyes softened. He laid back down onto the dirt, closing his eyes, and waited until Charles woke up to start moving around. After all, Charles needed his sleep. They had gone through a lot the past few days together, and Charles was probably more exhausted than he was. Yeah, that’s why I’m staying, Arthur lied to himself, He needs his sleep.

Minutes past, and finally Charles began to move. He groaned and sat up, scratching the side of his head. He opened his eyes and looked around, noticing how close he was to Arthur. He gasped a bit and moved away, feeling how warm his own face was getting. “A-Arthur..?” Charles asked, trying to see if the man was awake. He propped himself up on his arm, and looked down at his friend, who appeared to still be asleep on the grass.

“Yeah, Charles?” Arthur replied, turning around to look at him. Charles’ face flushed bright red as embarrassment kicked in. He stood up quickly and walked away, pretending that he didn’t know what he had been doing previously. Arthur chuckled and stood up, the began to walk every so quietly towards a still sleeping Sean. He pulled one of his front legs back and kicked the man, not hard enough to hurt him, but hard enough to scare him. Sean lifted up his head and yelped in surprise, then settled when he saw Arthur standing tall over him.

“I’m up! I’m up!” Sean yelled as he stood up from his sleeping spot. He ran his hand through his red hair, trying to brush it into place.

“You were supposed to be on guard duty, Sean.” Charles scorned him as from his spot underneath the cliff that overlooked the plot of land.

“I was! I just got tired is all!” Sean yelled in defense, “I was just rescued from custody, let me remind you.”

“Yes, and Arthur and I were just cursed and kicked out of the gang.” Charles shot back at the Irishman, not even making eye contact. Sean huffed as he dusted off his pant leg, then turned back to Arthur.

“Arthur, get control of your boyfriend,” Sean joked as he stretched his arms over his head. Arthur and Charles stared at the man in shock, both of their faces bright red.

“I’m not- He’s not my- We’re not-” Arthur stammered as he pointed back and forth between himself and Charles. His mind was blanking at the idea of him and Charles being together, and all forms of communication were shutting down.

“Don’t play coy with me, English,” Sean looked back at Arthur with a small grin, “I saw you two last night when you fell asleep. You were cuddlin’ like two lovebirds sharin’ a nest!”

“That ain’t true!” Arthur yelled, his face turning red from anger and embarrassment, “Charles and I are just friends, right Charles?” Arthur asked as he looked back at the other man.

Charles took a step back as his ears folded backwards. “Yes...” he confirmed, “Just friends...” Charles’ eyes had a certain sadness in them, and his heart ached. He was confused as to why hearing Arthur say that hurt him so much. Almost as confused as Arthur was as to why it hurt seeing Charles so sad.

Arthur took a step towards Charles, watching him with sad eyes. He so longed to comfort him, but he stopped himself before he could. He shook his head to erase the thoughts that swarmed his mind. “We should... We should start moving now,” he said, changing the subject.

“Yeah...” Charles said, looking towards the ground. He blinked his eyes to push back the tears that were swarming up in them. Why am I crying? he thought, Everything’s fine... Arthur’s right, we’re just friends.

“Right then!” Sean yelled, interrupting Charles’ thoughts, as he walked towards Arthur. He grabbed hold of Arthur’s back, and swung himself onto him. “Let’s get moving!”

Arthur looked back at Sean with squinted eyes and a furrowed brow. “Just what do you think you’re doing?” Arthur asked through gritted teeth.

“What?” Sean asked, “Listen big man, my feet have been burned and I’ve been beaten to a pulp. I can’t walk out west.”

“Get off.” Arthur commanded him as his ears turned all the way back.

“If you don’t carry me, Charles will!” Sean shot back.

Arthur ground his teeth together and balled his hands into a fist. “Fine.” he said begrudgingly. His ear turned towards the sound of Charles chuckling a bit, and some of his anger melted away.

“Come on,” Charles told them as he walked past, “We should get going.” Arthur smiled as he watched him. His hooves began to kick up into a trot as he followed behind him, but as he gazed at him, he felt as if he was walking on clouds. “The Pinkertons won’t be able to find us if we head for New Austin. Gaptooth Ridge is as safe as we can get without crossing into Mexico,” Charles said as he walked, “So, we could head for there. It’s not safe here in West Elizabeth.”

“ ‘S not safe for you two anywhere,” Sean pitched in, “I bet you could hide in Tall Trees real well! Only thing to be worried about is hunters.”

“Which is why we’re not going to Tall Trees,” Charles corrected him, “It might be easy to hide, but people go up there to hunt.”

“Plus, place would be crawlin’ with Pinkertons,” Arthur added, “You’d be caught within a week at most. And we ain’t leavin’ you alone in New Austin, either. We have to stay together.”

“Aw, you really care about me that much, English?” Sean asked jokingly, causing Arthur’s ears to go flat again.

Charles watched as the two men bickered like siblings with a fond smile. “You two..” he chuckled to himself. Arthur turned to look at him as he laughed, causing a smile to spread across his face. He turned back to face the horizon, kicking up his pace.

“We should hurry,” Arthur told him, “We don’t wanna get caught by the law out here.” Charles looked back at him and nodded in agreement as he sped into a gallop, and was joined with Arthur at his side.

They rode hard for hours, until reaching Cholla Springs at sunset. Arthur slowed to a stop and leaned down to give himself a rest. Okay..” he mumbled between pants, “I recon... We should rest here for the night...”

“I agree with him,” Sean groaned as he climbed down, “Riding for that long without a saddle really isn’t doin’ any treats to my ass.”

Charles stopped and looked back at the two men, laughing a bit. “Alright then,” he said as he began to clear out a spot for them to stay, “We’ll sleep here. I’m sure we’re far enough away from West Elizabeth.”

Sean slumped over on a rock, nearly passing out as soon as he sat on the ground. Arthur stretched his front legs forwards and arched his back, stretching out both of his spines, and causing the human one to pop in several spots. He shook his head, “Good lord,” he mumbled as he stretched his arms. He looked back up at the horizon, to see Charles lying all on his lonesome.

“You alright?” Arthur asked as he laid down next to him.

“I’m fine,” Charles smiled, “Just keeping guard. Never know who’s out here around this time.”

“Well, if that’s the case,” Arthur stretched again, sticking his arms up and arching his back, “I think I’ll catch some shut-eye.” He laid down on his back, so that his legs were sticking straight up in the air, “Night, Charles.”

Charles laughed a bit and looked down at his friend. “Goodnight Arthur,” he replied as he turned back to look at the horizon.

All was quiet, apart from the chirps of cicadas and the distant bowls of coyotes. He looked up at the night sky, admiring the thousands of stars, and the one full moon, shining down onto them. His eyes followed the moonbeams as they landed on the dusty desert floor.

Charles glanced to the side, and saw Arthur’s sleeping face illuminated by the moonlight. He looked so gentle, and calm... Not the gruff, tough, mountain-man he had known in the light of day. He stared at him, reaching down to gently brush a strand of hair out of his face. Charles’ eyes shimmered as they watched the moonbeams dance across the man’s face. He held his hand on his face, feeling his cheek with his thumb.

His mind echoed with what Arthur had said to him earlier. That they were just friends. Only friends. Every bone in his body was screaming at him to pull away, go back to watching the horizon, and leave Arthur out of his heart. He and Arthur were just friends, even Arthur himself had said that. He leaned away from the man, still looking at his softened face. He gently brushed his thumb over his cheek, and cupped his face with his hand.

But we could be something more.

He knew what was happening. There was no more confusion and fear with how he reacted to the man. He knew how he felt about him, and why he felt that way. He slowly leaned down, and lefts a tender kiss on Arthur’s forehead.

Oh, good lord... Charles sighed to himself as tears began to form in his eyes, I’ve fallen in love.