#a character might be an entryway to loving an actor

[artaxerxesthegreat]

Happy Birthday, Darling

(Poly!Lost Boys x WOC!Reader)

A/N: I’ve been wanting to post this for at least a month, and this is only one of like… 5 (?) fics I’ve started with these boys, simply because I felt like I didn’t do their characters justice, and decided to binge read everyone else’s fics— by the by, love reading other peoples take on these vampire babies, it warms my heart and soul honestly. @beoneofus gave me the confidence (thank you babes) to actually finish this— this thing I’m calling a oneshot so here you all go, and I truly hope you like, and enjoy it.

A/N 2: Reader is Maria’s younger cousin, haven’t seen much of a family pairing with her so I figured ‘what the hey’, though the reader’s age isn’t mentioned, she is over 18, because I’m going based off of how old the boys’ actors were when they filmed the movie. (Alex was the youngest at 19)

A/N 3: Credit to GIF maker, I’m assuming it’s @tvneon

Warnings: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, 18+, Cursing, violence (duh), reader has some attitude/anger problems, nothing our boys can’t handle, sass, suggestive comments, reader throws hands, the boys being themselves, reader has some body image issues, the boys loving her regardless, gets a bit spicy at the end, lip biting (?), turning into a vampire(?), smoking, cross fading, drinking blood, Paul putting David in his place, not beta read

Word count: 9370

Y/N glances at the clock to her right, counting the minutes until her cousin would get off of work. Why she decided to be at VideoMax two hours earlier than she was supposed to, was because she and Maria were going to go watch a movie later. It was Y/N’s birthday and she was dying to watch ‘Never Say Never Again’. Of course in her excitement, she got ready in the morning and lounged in Maria’s apartment with absolutely nothing to do and as the day went on, she simply couldn’t take being alone in the stuffy apartment.

So, throwing on her yellow converse and her ‘1 World One Tribe’ Martin Lawrence Jeff Hamilton leather jacket, she headed out the door to her car (that’s seen better days), and drove to VideoMax to see if time would move faster.

It didn’t.

“Uuuuugggghhhhh how much longer, Maria?” Y/N all but lays her upper body down on the counter, groaning with her dark brown curly hair falling over her face as Maria laughs at her baby cousin.

“Like I told you ten minutes ago, two hours babes.” Maria ruffles Y/N’s hair, quickly jumping out of the way of Y/N’s hand ready to swat the grin off her face.

“Don’t mess up my hair, it took me a long time to get it this good.”

“Why didn’t you just blow it out?”

“WhY DidN’T YoU jUsT BlOW iT OuT?” Y/N rolls her eyes picking herself off of the counter, “You know exactly why; I never would’ve left the bathroom and your shitty fire alarm would’ve gone off.”

Maria just smiles resuming her current tasks while Y/N groans again after stealing a glance at the clock, “This sucks! Why couldn’t you just take the day off?”

“You know exactly why; I have bills.” Maria grins at the glare Y/N sends her for throwing her words back at her, “You could just help me, it might help the time go by faster.”

Y/N squints her eyes looking at Maria with a disgruntled look, “And work for free? Hard pass.”

“Then get out from behind the counter, Y/N.” Maria shoots back, sending her a glare of her own.

Y/N sighs heavily as she lays her head back down on the counter with a bit too much drama, her forehead hitting the counter with a ‘thunk’. She smiles to herself when Maria’s laugh reaches her ears, and as she lifts herself once again, ready to fire back an insult at her cousin, she finds that Maria has left her previous spot in the comedy section.

“Yo, Maria. Where’d you go?” Y/N tries to see the black curly hair of her cousin in the rows of movie shelves, but being 5’3’’ and Maria being 5’ puts a limit on what she can see- especially if Maria is crunching on the floor. Y/N barely registers the sound of the entryway chiming to reveal new customers have entered the store, when a smooth tenor voice reaches her ears she turns with extreme confusion.

“Hey babe, how’s it going?”

Y/N turns with wide eyed confusion staring up at a blue eyed boy, wild long blonde hair and a striking smile. Blinking once she furrows her brow tilting her head at him; his smile never leaves his face, but it’s slowly faltering as the sound of silence fills the space for an awkward amount of time. Opening her mouth, Y/N tries to think of something to say; the boy smiles brightly thinking she’s going to be his form of entertainment for the night, but she comes up empty and just closes her mouth, blinks again and shouts loudly.

“MARIA?! SOME WEIRDO IS ASKING FOR YOU!” The boy jumps back not expecting the yell, and his friends begin to laugh at his reaction. Only then does Y/N see that he isn’t alone. A boy with platinum blonde hair, piercing blue eyes, and a dark ensemble, is standing next to a taller boy with dark hair and eyes, missing a shirt, and a shorter boy with curly blonde hair, the face of an angel, but with a smile of a devil in the most colorful jacket Y/N has ever seen. Feeling her heart skip a beat, she steps back shouting louder, “CORRECTION— SOME WEIRDOS! PLURAL!”

“Aye, Y/N stop shouting, you’re disturbing the other customers.” Maria rushes forward pushing Y/N out of the way with a scowl on her face.

“Then stop having weird friends.” Y/N snaps back leaning on the other counter trying to ignore the eyes following her every move, “Don’t look at them, don’t look at them, just don’t look!”

She looks.

The tall brunette just stares at her blankly, and then hits her with a smile that has her heart do a flip flop making her snap her head over at Maria, trying to ignore the feeling of heat rising on her face.

“Oh, it’s you guys. And here I thought it was someone important.” Maria smiles at the blonde despite the tone of her words. The blonde ignores it completely and just leans forward shamelessly flirting with Maria.

“What, do you have a new man in your life or something? Bet he’s not as great as I am.” He reaches out and plays with a lock of her hair. Y/N stares on with a look of disbelief mixed with disgust at the exchange before her; she’s so caught up in their flirting that she doesn’t notice that the curly haired blonde and tall brunette have come to her side of the counter.

“Yes, he is, and his name is Max. And he’ll be back in…” Maria glances at the clock pulling her hair out of his grasp, “In 14 minutes, Paul.”

“A lot can happen in 14 minutes, baby.” He sends her a wink making her giggle like a schoolgirl as she shakes her head pushing him off of the counter.

Y/N groans rolling her eyes not hiding the sound of her gagging, as she’s turning to look down at her counter she bumps her head against someone else’s. Moving back quickly, she ready’s an apology but it stops short when she sees it's the curly haired boy.

“Sorr— uuuuuhhhhh.” She looks back to where he was standing before, and then back at him, “Weren’t you…over there…?” He just smiles widely with danger dancing in his eyes, making Y/N lean away from him, “Rrrriiigggghhht, okay. Maria?”

“Hm?”

Y/N pulls Maria away from the counter not taking her eyes off of the boys as they watch her just as intently. Leaning to her cousin she whispers, “I don’t feel safe and I’m not happy. Also, why are you friends with criminals?”

“Oh my god, Y/N, they aren’t criminals. Just a couple of rebels, that’s all.”

“Really? Cause from where I’m standing that one just swiped a lollipop. Last I checked, that's stealing.” Y/N folds her arms looking down at her cousin.

“How is it that I’m the older cousin, but you treat me like I’m the baby?” Maria tilts her head with sass, ignoring every word Y/N just said. The two are locked in a glaring contest, and after a few seconds Y/N sighs hanging her head.

“Fine, whatever. Just hurry up so we can go to the movies.”

“Can’t, I’m still on the clock for the next hour and forty five minutes.”

Y/N balls her fists, brushing past Maria to walk out the door doing her best to avoid the boys blocking her way— it didn’t work. She’s stopped by the platinum blonde, who just stares down at her with a dark gaze, making her feel small and powerless. He smirks as Y/N basically folds in on herself, before reaching his hand out for a handshake causing her to jump back.

“David.”

Y/N stares at his hand before looking up at him and then back to his hand, scoffing, she glares back at him, “Didn’t ask, don’t care.”

Pushing between him and the rocker blonde, she exits through the small space they made, briskly walking out of the video store. With her heart hammering in her chest she looks over her shoulder to make sure they aren’t following her— and they aren’t. Promptly stopping, she leans against one of the buildings in the strip letting out a shaky breath.

“Ohmygodohmygodohmygodohmygodohmygod! Why did I do that?! Oh shit, I could’ve died! What the hell is wrong with you Y/N?!” She slides down to the floor since her legs have turned to jelly as the adrenaline leaves her body, “All he did was introduce himself, why were you rude?! Aye Dios mio.”

The sound of laughter has her turn her head in the direction of the video store, where the four boys exit— the two blondes are pushing and shoving each other while the other two walk out calmly. Her heart picks up at the sight of them and David turns his head to her, piercing blue locking with fearful dark brown.

“OKAY! That’s not weird at all!” A sadistic smile finds its way to David’s face and Y/N swears her heart stops for a few seconds, “I’m so dead!”

Now Y/N hasn’t been very religious, but she finds herself praying to Jesus, Joseph, Mary and all the saints at the exact same time. It was a mess of names and words mixed in English and Spanish as time seemed to stand still with their locked gazes.

David is the first to look away, but only to light his cigarette, unfortunately for him in the short amount of time it took to do that, Y/N is gone— running into the crowd entering the boardwalks amusement park.

Smirking to himself, he nods in the direction Y/N ran in, “Marko.”

Marko ceases all roughhousing with Paul and looks at David with a devilish smile. Not needing any further instructions he slips into the crowd to hunt for the girl.

……

Y/N couldn’t shake the feeling of eyes following her, but every time she looked over her shoulder, she couldn’t see anyone in particular watching or following her. Shaking her head, she continues to walk through the boardwalk making random turns and double backing just to be on the safe side. After a while the feeling leaves and she breathes out a sigh of relief getting in the line for the Giant Dipper— if she had to wait for Maria, she might as well try to have fun.

As she nears the front of the line, the feeling returns and when she turns around she is face- to- face with the curly haired one. His smile ever present on his face as he chews on his thumb nail.

“Oh shit!” She stumbles back bumping into the people behind her, who turn around annoyed, sending her a glare. The angel-faced boy grabs her wrist pulling her to his side, moving his hold to her waist, sending them a glare of his own. The couple look between Y/N and the boy offering a meek apology— much to Y/N’s dismay— and turn back to the front, stepping forward to create more space for the two of them.

Neither Y/N nor the boy say anything as the line moves forward as an attendant shows them to their seat rides. The pair sit in the very front car, which Y/N finds odd since there was a couple in front of them, but chooses not to voice it as the curly haired one pulls the lever down over their laps locking them in.

Y/N tries to work up the courage to say something— anything, to say this guy, but every time she opens her mouth she’s stopping herself.

“I mean, how do you ask someone if they’re following you, without asking if they’re following you?” Closing her eyes she clears her throat ready to ask, when the ride starts to move forward, opening her eyes she sucks in a breath, at the height they’re being pulled up to.

“This was a bad idea.” She mainly whispers to herself as the ride picks up speed turning this way and that, all but slamming her into the cart and into the boy. Holding onto the railing for dear life she closes her eyes feeling the wind hit her face as she tries not to scream in terror. Unlike her, the boy is having the time of his life— screaming, laughing and… shaking the cart? Y/N opens her eyes looking at him as he does in fact shake their cart from side to side, “ARE YOU INSANE?!”

Y/N shrieks as the boy throws his hands up screaming happily, with new found nerves she punches him in his ribs as hard as she can causing him to groan at the unexpected impact. Clutching his side he looks at her with a seriousness she didn’t think was possible for him to have.

Thankfully for her, he began shaking the cart towards the end of the ride; before anything else could happen, the ride was over, and she scrambles out of the cart running to the exit and into the crowd once again.

Marko jumps out of the cart reaching out to grab her, but she slips out of his reach as she slides between two passerbys; growling in frustration as he weaves through the crowd trying to find her ‘1 World One Tribe’ jacket. Stepping out into the open he looks in both directions not seeing her anymore.

“Fuck.”

Opening his mind, he informs the others of what just transpired.

“What do you mean she got away?”

“I mean she got away, David. She punched me in the ribs and then just disappeared.” He rubs his side wincing slightly as heat radiates from the spot, “That shit fuckin’ hurt. I can’t find her dumb jacket anywhere either.”

“Just sniff her out dipshit.”

“I have, Paul! She’s just gone! She’s like, brushing against some many people, it's hard to pinpoint where she went. Fuck!”

“… Found her.”

“What?! Where?! Where Dwayne?!… Dwayne?” Marko lets out a frustrated sigh seeking out his brothers instead, “Damn why’d she hit me so hard?”

……

Y/N rushes back into VideoMax almost running into a customer who’s leaving the store, both Max and Maria stare at her wide eyed as she leans against the counter catching her breath.

“Y/N, what the hell? Are you okay?”

“No…. No Maria I— whew! Oh god, I haven’t run like that since high school… -oh geez! Wow, ugh my lungs hurt so bad.” She lays her head on the cool counter as Max and Maria share a glance, “I hit someone, and I didn't want to know what would happen next so I dipped.”

“You hit someone?!” Both Max and Maria spoke at the same time, shock evident on their faces.

“Yeah, the curly haired one.” She barely raises her head from the counter to look at the two, and just opts to take the time to gather herself. She winces as the burning in her lungs travels to her throat and a wave of dizziness hits her. Swallowing thickly she regrets sprinting from the boardwalk all the way to Max’s store, she didn’t even stop at the crosswalk for fear that the moment she stopped running, the boy would grab and pull her into a dark alley and do whatever he wanted to her.

“‘The curly haired one?’” Maria looks at Max with confusion before looking out the door to see Dwayne standing across the way. Then it clicks, “You don’t mean Marko, do you?”

“I don’t know his fucking name. And I wasn’t staying to ask.” Y/N glares up at Maria, “He was the one with the colorful jacket, hazel eyes, face of an angel smile of the devil… bites his thumb. That guy.”

Maria hangs her head letting out an exasperated sigh, “Yeah, that’s Marko. Y/N, why would you hit him?”

“He was trying to kill us! He kept shaking our cart.” The two blink at her with new found confusion making Y/N sigh, “We were on the Giant Dipper and he started shaking the cart- I’m not lying when I say it felt like it was going to detach from the tracks, that little asshole tried to kill us and so I punched him… in the ribs… hard. Look, my knuckles are still red.”

Max winces at the sight of her hand, “Let me see if I have something in the back for your hand.”

“Y/N, why can’t you just find a peaceful way to approach things?” Maria snaps, shaking her head at her cousin.

“Why can’t you have friends that aren’t homicidal maniacs?” Y/N snaps back sneering at Maria.

“Aye tu!” She pushes Y/N away from the counter, “Go stand outside and cool off.”

“Whatever.” Y/N sticks her tongue out stumbling outside and walks to the bench across from the video store, not once seeing Dwayne. “How am I always the bad guy? That idiot was shaking the fucking ride, but I’m the bad guy. Yeah right, okay.”

“You alright?”

Y/N jumps at the voice that comes from next to her, “Not another one.”

Dwayne just smiles at her reaction and holds out an ice pack for her hand, she squints at it and then up at him, holding her hand closer to her body, “I’m good.”

He places it between them and looks out at the dark waves hitting the beach, sitting further back on the bench she continues to watch Dwayne with untrusting eyes.

“Where is he?” Her words were sharp and right to the point as she glared at the brunette. He lazily tilts his head to her, his hair fanning around his face is what takes her breath away; she was so caught up in his beauty that she almost missed his question.

“Where’s who?”

“The…” Blinking quickly, Y/N takes a breath looking around her surroundings seeing if she can spot him. Not seeing the demon child with gold locks she answers him, “Marko? That’s his name right?”

Dwayne gives her a wolfish smile, making her heart pick up again causing her to wonder if she was worrying about the wrong person. His smile was so animalistic that Marko’s mischievous smile was so much nicer than she had originally thought. In fact, she wished it was Marko that found her instead, besides it’s not like he’d actually kill her… right?

“Come on, trouble-maker! Let’s go to the movies!” Maria’s voice pulls her attention. Both Dwayne and Y/N turn to look at Maria, who throws her hands up in a ‘lets go’ gesture making Y/N roll her eyes, Y/N stands up before looking down at Dwayne.

His wolfish smile is gone, making Y/N wonder if she imagined the whole thing. With an awkward air she clears her throat as she stands up, “Um… thanks.”

He raises a brow at her and she points to the ice pack next to him. Nodding his head he gets up at walks towards the boardwalk, presumably to where his friends are. Y/N catches herself staring at him as he saunters away, shaking her head she starts chastising herself, “Stop it Y/N, he’s just a guy. They’re all just dumb guys… cute, but dumb.”

Dwayne smirks as he hears Y/N’s words and reaches the boys with a pep in his step. David leans against his bike squinting at Dwayne’s good mood raising a brow.

“She thinks we’re cute.” He supplies shrugging his shoulders as the other three stare at him with varying expressions; Paul smiles proudly laughing as he looks to Marko, who smiles with a furrowed brow glancing to David, who keeps a neutral face waiting for more information.

“That’s it?” David’s patience wears thin as Dwayne nods looking at the people walking up and down the boardwalk, “Well no shit, Dwayne.”

“She’s also going to the theater with Maria.” He tilts his head to David revving his bike.

Flicking his cigarette, David smirks revving his own bike, “Who wants to catch a movie?”

The boys chuckle as they peel off of the boardwalk and towards the theater.

……

“I still don’t understand why you would punch him, Y/N.” Maria grabs the snacks as Y/N hands the clerk their tickets, rolling her eyes at Maria’s words.

“Because he-”

“-He almost killed you, yes you’ve said that—” The clerk sends the girls a quick glance, clearly confused about their conversation, but both ignore him walking into the theater room.

“-Then why is that so hard for you to believe?” Y/N whispers harshly, taking her bag of popcorn and soda from Maria, who turns around swiftly, almost causing Y/N to bump into her.

“Do you know how much power it takes to knock a rollercoaster cart off the tracks?”

“…A lot— but!” Y/N raises her voice slightly when Maria holds up a finger stopping any more words from Y/N.

“No. No more, as soon as you see him you better apologize.” Turning back around Maria doesn’t wait for Y/N to follow and sits in a random aisle.

“I’m not apologizing.” Y/N mumbles sitting four aisles behind Maria glaring at the back of her head. “I didn’t do anything wrong.”

If the lights were up it would be almost comical, the pouting face Y/N wore which quickly turned into a scowl at the thought of Marko. There’s no way any of this was her fault, she hadn’t been the one shaking the ride. It was that annoyingly adorable angel-faced demon child, with wonderful hazel eyes that was being the little punk ass bitch, not her.

How could someone so innocent looking be so, so… uuuuggghhhh?!

It didn’t make sense, and why was he even following her in the first place? She didn’t do anything to warrant his attention, she couldn’t figure out for the life of her, why he zeroed in on her. Surely he could occupy his time with other girls on the boardwalk, like the ones that actually seemed interested in him. She wasn’t blind, she saw how women passing by the Giant Dipper line were raking their eyes over his form- undressing him with their eyes like they’ve never seen a person of the opposite sex before.

Hell even a few guys were getting their fill of him, and he didn’t seem to mind at all. In fact, he seemed to relish all the attention, sending cheeky grins and winks here and there, making people trip or look away blushing.

“Ugh he’s not even that cute…” Y/N says as if she’s trying to convince herself otherwise, “So what he has blonde hair, there are a lot of blonde people in the world, it’ll probably turn brown or something as he gets older. Who cares about hazel green eyes- I don’t… even if green is one of my favorite colors…” She closes her eyes trying to come up with an actual negative to Marko, “… I hate his face.”

“I don’t know, I think he looks pretty good.” She turns her head to the left at the sound of a voice whispering next to her. Squinting, she tries to make out the face of this rando next to her; the room is illuminated by the lights from the movie, revealing the wild haired blonde from the video store. Y/N sucks in a breath, snapping her head forward praying she’s just seeing things, sneaking a peak back at the blonde, he flashes her a winning smile making her breathe shakily.

“If he’s here, then that means…” Slowly she turns her head to the right, and sure enough the curly blonde is next to her. Marko doesn’t spare her a glance, but smirks as he watches the movie on the screen hearing her let out a small whimper. She leans forward about to call out to Maria, when he clasps his hand over her mouth, tugging her back into her seat. Leaning over to her Marko uses his free hand to place his index over his lips, whispering in her ear.

“Sssshhh, don't want to be too loud, now do you… Y/N.”

Wide eyed and brimming with tears, she sits back trying to think of another way to get Maria’s attention. While she’s wrecking her brain for some kind of solution, Paul reaches his hand over taking a handful of popcorn, smirking at Y/N’s glare.

“‘Whe’lly?” She mumbles from behind Marko’s hand.

“Huh? Can’t understand you babe.” Paul chuckles as Y/N’s glare darkens and she flips him off.

“Fu’g y’u!”

“Huh?” Paul mockingly leans closer to Y/N, who rolls her eyes sitting back in her seat, trying to watch the movie. Just then a black gloved hand comes over her left shoulder reaching into her popcorn, before she can look behind her she hears David whisper in her ear.

“For someone who can’t talk, you are really loud. It’s kind of annoying.” He retracts his hand with a fist full of popcorn and that does nothing but make Y/N’s heartbeat faster.

Quickly glancing over her right shoulder she sees Dwayne, who gives her a sympathetic smile. Whimpering, she turns back around trying to focus on the film.

It takes some time, but she finally begins to relax— even with Marko’s hand still on her mouth— and picks up her soda to take a sip, knocking on the back of his hand. Turning his head to her, she raises a brow shaking her soda, making him grin widely, he leans over to take a sip from her soda. She pulls the cup away from him, resulting in him taking the stray while she sends muffled obscenities his way. The two blondes fall over with laughter which draws the attention of the other people in the theater, there’s scattered ‘sh’s’ and harshly whispered ‘shut up’s’ but the only one who turns around with a death glare of sorts, is Maria.

Y/N feels hope bubbling up in her chest as Maria looks over each of the boys, her eyes linger on Marko’s hand covering Y/N’s mouth and glancing at both blondes she shakes her head giving Y/N a playful eye roll and turns back to the screen.

Y/N sits there shellshocked, deflating instantly leaning back in her seat sighing deeply. The boys snicker at her, huffing she smacks Marko’s hand away glaring down at her popcorn; looking up at Maria’s head she slowly smiles as she takes a handful throwing it at the back of Maria’s head. She barely holds back a laugh as a few pieces get stuck in her cousin’s hair. The three of them snicker and giggle as Maria begins to feel around her hair looking up at the ceiling checking for a leak of some kind.

Pulling out a piece of popcorn Maria turns around glaring at the trio, Y/N instantly points at both Paul and Marko and they in turn point at her. Getting up from her seat, she moves to the row in front of the trio and sits in front of Y/N with a raised brow.

“I didn’t do it. I know better, plus you also know where I live. I like living, Mar- Mar.” Y/N wastes no time in covering for herself, leaving Maria to shift her eyes between the ‘Terror Twins’. Both boys look at Y/N with open mouths at her blatant lie, but neither can hide the look of respect they have for her either, as she turns her attention to the movie straight faced. Not knowing who to blame, Maria takes a hand full of her popcorn throws some at Y/N, who gasps at the action, throws some at Paul who tries to catch it in his mouth, and lastly at Marko who just giggles, popping the pieces that fell into his lap into his mouth.

“Since I don’t know who did it, you all get punished.” Maria whispers, turning to face the movie screen, leaving Y/N to make faces behind her head, making the boys bust out laughing.

An annoyed voice from the other side of the theater yells, “Oh my god! WILL YOU SHUT UP!”

“WILL YOU SHUT YOUR FUCKING FACE?!” Maria spins around to face Y/N with wide eyes, as she yells back at the patron. Y/N was about to stop when Paul started to hype her up, so she continued, “SOME OF US ARE TRYING TO WATCH A MOVIE. DICK!”

“Aye, we are so getting kicked out of here.” Maria rests her head against the back of the chair as the patron gets out of their seat and out of the theater.

Y/N nods her head smiling while eating some popcorn, “Oh yeah. We’re never gonna be able to come back here. For sure.”

Maria smacks Y/N leg in retaliation for… well everything, and sends Paul and Marko a glare pointing at them, “This is your fault too.”

“Shouldn’t’ve invited your weird friends then.”

“I didn’t invite them.”

“…Well. This just got a lot creeper than it already was…” Y/N slumps in her chair sending Maria a face of awkwardness, before anyone can say anything further, a flashlight is shining down on all six of them.

“I’m going to have to ask the six of you to leave.” The attendant is visibly annoyed with an even more annoyed patron. Y/N wrinkles her nose at both men and scoffs getting up from her chair walking past Marko. The boys watch on with growing interest and excitement while Maria is having a panic attack at her baby cousin’s actions.

“Why?” She folds her arms, tilting her head giving both men a stoic expression, “We didn’t do anything wrong. We were just watching the movie. You can’t be mad that some people like to laugh in the theater.”

Everything happened pretty fast; the patron— a man of 6’ greasy and smells like stale salt water snatched the flashlight from the attendant, shined the light in Y/N’s face making her close her eyes, covering as much light with her hand as she can while he steps towards her, sneering as he does. Due to the black spots in her vision, Y/N only saw a blob of darkness moving towards her too fast for her liking, so like any sensible person, she used her free hand to make a fist, it shot out in front of her hitting the man…in the throat.

He falls back on the ground gasping for air like a fish, with the attendant begins to freak out not knowing what to do. Maria shouts in Spanish pushing Y/N out of the aisle, ushering her out of the theater; the boys on the other hand are laughing, and whopping as they walk past both men giving them looks of their own… It’s not hard to tell there are going to be a couple of missing posters up tomorrow.

“I can’t believe you punched him in the throat, Y/N!” Maria grabs Y/N turning to face her anger heavy in her features.

“It’s not my fault!” Y/N wrenched her arm out of Maria’s grasp, trying to put some distance between them. She knows how this is going to go, words will be exchanged, feelings will be hurt and both will be too prideful to apologize for the next few days; but with how Y/N is feeling right now at the moment she doesn't want to do something that will ruin the only relationship with family that she has.

“You punched him. IN THE THROAT!” Maria shouts trying to drive her point home. Y/N closes her eyes willing herself to hold back words of anger and tries to think logically. Her train of thought is disrupted by Marko and Paul rushing outside and throwing their arms over Y/N’s shoulders smiling at her proudly.

“Damn chica, you been holding out on us or what?”

“What?” Her anger is instantly replaced with confusion as she looks up at Paul’s smiling face.

“Yeah, you totally laid that guy out on his ass! It was pretty hot.” Marko chimes next to her, making her snap her head over to him.

“Wh— What?!”

“You have some quick punches there… kitten.” David takes out his pack of cigarettes studying Y/N’s face. He takes note of the timid expression she had to his compliment and then the quick switch to confusion and disgust as she processed his last word.

‘Kitten’.

“Oh, I know he did not—” She looks at Maria, letting out a humorless laugh, “He did NOT just call me… that is so gross.”

“Yeah, kitty’s got claws.” Paul ignores her words adding fuel to the fire as Y/N just closes her eyes, giving up completely.

“Whatever. Back to what we were talking about, it’s not my fault.” Y/N quickly holds up a finger stopping any words about to spill from Maria’s mouth, “AND! Before you try to interrupt me by shouting, ‘YoU pUNcHeD hIm iN tHe tHRoAT.’ I’d like to add that I could not have known it was his throat, as I could not see due to him flashing the light in my eyes and rushing towards me. It was a reflex.”

“He could die,Y/N.”

Y/N does her best to shrug her shoulders with the ‘Terror Twins’ basically hanging off of her, “Then he shouldn’t have shined the light in my eyes. He could’ve gotten away with a black eye, pero no, he decided to be a dick, ergo not my fault. Play stupid games, you win stupid prizes.”

Paul and Marko stare at Y/N like she hung the stars in the sky as she sassily tilts her head at Maria, waiting for her comeback. Both boys let out breathy laughs sharing a look with David and Dwayne who have smirks of their own.

“I think I’m in love.” Marko announces pulling Y/N closer to him while shoving Paul away from her. Y/N says nothing, staring at Maria with wide eyes and raised brows as the boys begin to tug her towards them like a rag doll.

“Okay, okay!” She manages to get out of their hands with the help of —Dwayne who smacks the back of both their heads— and fixes her jacket clearing her throat, “Ignoring that embarrassing and awkward declaration, can we just forget what happened and go get something to eat?”

“We can’t just dismiss this, Y/N.” Maria crosses her arms giving Y/N a straight face.

“Aye, come on Maria. The guy was a grade A asshole, someone was going to punch him in the throat someday.”

“Sure, but that ‘someone’ didn’t have to be you.” Maria starts to walk to her car leaving Y/N throwing her arms up in disbelief.

“You know what, fine! Whatever!” Y/N spins on her heel walking in the opposite direction towards the main road.

“Wait, where ya goin’ babe?” Paul calls out, as he looks at both girls retreating from each other. The boys can hear the sounds of sirens approaching, of course the authorities are still a ways away, they won’t be for long. Sharing one glance they follow behind Y/N, making a plan to get her back to the cave.

“For a walk!” She snaps barely sparing him a glance as she opens and closes her fists. She needed to let off some steam or she’d really fight someone. Her arm is grabbed by someone tugging her back around, pulling her fist back, she throws the punch right at David’s face, thankfully he was expecting it and catches her fist raising a brow at her, “S- sorry.”

“Quite the spitfire, aren’t you?” He pulls her fist down, but never lets her fist go watching her reaction to it. Her gaze lingers on his hand holding hers, but rolls her eyes not trying to be bothered by the random hand holding.

“I’ve been called worse, so I’ll let that one slide. Definitely better than ‘kitten’ blah!” She shivers as she repeats the word, “What do you want?”

“You.” David’s response is spoken with such plainness that Y/N stares at him for a solid minute making sure she heard him correctly.

Letting out a sigh of disbelief she tilts her head replaying their short conversation, “Um… what?”

“You heard me.”

“Hm yes, but I don’t think I heard you correctly.” She flicks her eyes down to their hands, where he’s started to rub small circles on her inner wrist. Realization dawns on her and she clears her throat avoiding eye contact with him, “Uuuuuuhhhhhh, well I’m uncomfortable.”

“Why?”

“Um well for one, I don't know you, and two, I— uh… don’t do… whatever the hell this,” She motions between them, and then points at Paul and Marko, “or what that is. I’m not about to be passed around by some random boys I met today, who decided to crash my birthday-day with my cousin.”

She pulls her hand from his grasp stepping away from him keeping her eyes on the ground. So many emotions and thoughts are flowing through her mind as she tries to put everything in a specific box to make sense of it all.

Is it possible for four guys— well definitely three— to like her?

Yes.

Would they fight for her, in front of her after meeting her for an hour?

No. No way. Normal people don’t do that.

Are they really ‘normal’ though?

…no… No they are not.

Why would they like her when they don’t even know her?

All they know is that she’s mouthy and angry; not the most attractive personality trait to be around… Well, they are punks, so it fits.

But why her?

Surely there were other girls out there that had a similar attitude to hers; similar and better looking. Why would they want to be with her? She was short, had unruly curly hair, and even though she isn’t considered fat she wasn’t considered slim either. She was awkward, even down to her body type, which she covered with baggy shirts and jackets.

Shoving her hands in her pockets she glances at Paul, then at Marko and Dwayne; all three have a face of hurt and confusion that tugs on her heart strings. Which, for the life of her she couldn’t figure out why. Shaking her head she begins scolding herself for what she’s about to do.

Holding her hand out to David, she looks up at him, “Y/N.”

Glancing down at her hand, and then back at her, he shoots back, “Didn’t ask, don’t care.”

“Mmmm yeah, I deserved that.” She bites the inside of her cheek, sending him a bashful glance, “Can we let bygones be bygones?”

The boys watch with bated breath as David stands motionless for three solid minutes watching Y/N intently. The sound of sirens is now heard by the group, Dwayne looks over his shoulder seeing the lights approaching fast. Setting his jaw he sends David a glare waiting for the blonde to speed things along.

“You sure that’s a good idea?” David tilts his head as he studies her face searching for any doubt in her face.

“Probably not, but I did just punch a guy in the throat, and according to my cousin that wasn’t a good idea, so I‘ll take my chances.”

Shrugging his shoulders he reaches out shaking her hand, “Careful what you wish for, spitfire.”

“Ditto, David.”

The two share a smirk, turning to the other three boys who let out howls of excitement and approval. Paul and Marko are at her sides in an instant ushering her to where they parked their bikes. Y/N hesitates as she looks at their bikes, knowing there is no way the two most hyper boys in this group were safe drivers, Dwayne stands behind her, leaning down to her ear.

“You’re better off riding with me.”

“Oh. Uh, yeah. Sure.” She jumps at the sudden sound of his voice, and the tickle of his breath on her ear. Climbing on the back of his bike, she awkwardly and hesitantly places her hands on his shoulders, making the boys laugh at her actions, embarrassed and flustered she snaps back at them, “I’ve never been on a bike before! I don’t know where I’m supposed to hold on!”

“Here.” He guides her hands to his waist chuckling at the incoherent words that come out of her mouth, “You’re gonna wanna hold on tight.”

Marko and Paul let out yells as they speed towards the beach, and Y/N latches on as soon as Dwayne moves forward. And boy is she glad she did, Dwayne may have been ‘better’ but he was by no means ‘safer’, all of them are letting howls, yells, and screams as they weave around on the beach, barely missing the people sitting around their little bonfires, purposely getting close to them and each other.

Closing her eyes, Y/N buries her face in Dwayne’s back, locking her arms around him as he seems to drive faster than before, passing Marko, who yells out in frustration. The ride becomes bumpy, as they enter the woods, Y/N feels herself get lifted in the air as Dwayne makes small jumps here and there due to the terrain; not that Y/N knew that, her head is tucked deep in her chest with her vice grip on Dwayne somehow getting tighter.

She doesn’t even see the fog roll in, or notice the quietness that fills the air around her. Even when Dwayne stops his bike, she stays in the same tucked in position, eyes screwed shut with the shallowest of breathing.

“You good, Y/N?” Dwayne barely turns around when Y/N squeezes his waist tighter, halting his movements.

“Awh man, you broke her.” Paul’s voice is behind her as he pokes her side, but she still doesn’t move.

“She looks so tiny!” Marko giggles next to her, bending forward trying to look at her face.

At this she does react.

“I AM TINY YOU MORON!” She snaps her head up, glaring at him taking a swing at him. He laughs jumping out of the way, and Paul takes this time to wrap his arms around her waist, picking her up and placing her on the ground. She growls at him, but he’s unbothered by it and just smiles suggestively at her, wiggling his brows in the process. Scoffing, she pushes him away from her, “Not even in your nightmares, pretty boy.”

“Let’s get inside.” David commands, holding his hand out to Y/N, and taking his hand the two walk to the wooden staircase littered with warning signs.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?”

“Y/N, wants to know if this is a good idea.” David comments with an amused tone, not turning around he continues, “Marko, this a good idea?”

“I don’t know.” Marko places his hand on Y/N’s shoulder pushing her forward, making her stumble on the old wooden stairs. She turns to glare at him and his grin is wicked as he looks back at Paul, “This a good idea Paul?”

“Wait a minute, who wants to know?”

At this point she just scoffs as they make fun of her and she catches up with David mumbling about boys being dumb and immature. David glances at her from over his shoulder as she lightly punches his shoulder, “You could’ve just said ‘yes’ or ‘no’, you didn’t have to mock me. Dick.”

Turning around he blocks the entrance to the chain link fence and leans into her personal space, staring deep into her eyes, “Now where’s the fun in that… Kitten?”

As much as she wanted to be angry at the nickname again, she just couldn’t be. Something about how he said this time was just different from before- probably because before, it didn’t send a warm tingling feeling down her spine and to her core. Breathing through her nose she does her best to look bored and unbothered, but the smirk growing on his face makes her falter, as if he knows exactly how she’s feeling. Hands rest on her waist making her look up at Paul who’s grinning from ear to ear; rolling her eyes, she takes his hands off of her, and motions for David to hurry up.

“You might wanna watch your step.” Is all the warning she’s given as they enter a dark cave.

“Or wHAT—” Y/N foot slips from under her as she loses her balance on some loose dirt and sand, her fall is stopped by hands hooking under her arms lifting her off of the unstable ground to the floor of the cave. With wide eyes she clears her throat glancing at Dwayne, then at David who is clearly unimpressed, “… Or I’ll fall. Got it.”

“You alright, Y/N?” Dwayne’s voice is obviously amused, and Y/N prepares a retort for him, but when she looks back at him, her voice is nonexistent as he looks down at her with concerned eyes.

Marko sneaks next to Y/N and gives both Dwayne and Y/N a smirk, “Think you broke her again, dude.”

“I am NOT broken!” This time Marko doesn’t move out of the way of her fist, as she punches him straight in his sternum, “Son of bitch, owwww!”

“Next time you might wanna punch me, try it where it actually hurts me and not you.” Marko cackles as Y/N gets ready to kick him where the sun doesn’t shine, “Stay still so I can kick your balls!”

Laughter fills the cave as Marko moves around the couch as he taunts Y/N, calling her names, sticking his tongue out at her— anything to her to chase him.

“You are such a child.” After a good 30 or 40 minutes of chasing Marko, Y/N opts to glare at him, but the smile on her face betrays her as she sits on the couch next to Paul, who is smoking a blunt. Being the good host he is, Paul offers her a hit which she gladly takes, earning ‘whoops’ of approval for taking a long drag. She almost made it without coughing, but their little celebration made her laugh, so choking on the smoke in her lungs she leans forward shaking her head, “I didn’t realize—… didn’t realize that was worth celebrating.”

“It’s been a while since we’ve seen someone other than Paul take a hit like that.” Dwayne takes a hit, smirking at the pair on the couch— well they were a pair until Marko decided to sit in Y/N’s lap. Without much protest, Y/N just groans and rolls her eyes, her body completely hidden by Marko’s. The only part of her that’s seen is her legs and her right hand as she silently asks for the blunt.

“Yeah, well if I’m hangin’ with you all I need to be high. Only way to get there is by taking a long ass hit.” Bringing the blunt to her lips she attempts to take a longer hit than before, and Paul is enamored; he isn’t even high yet, but he feels like he’s on cloud nine simply watching Y/N smoke the way she is. His mouth hangs open slightly, as his blue eyes stare at the girl dreamily as he fixes himself in his seat earning a knowing look from Marko. Dwayne chuckles at them, raising a suggestive brow at Paul, who flips him off failing to hide his own smile.

David sits in his throne watching the rest of his pack interact with Y/N and he knows there’s no way she’s going back to her normal life— not when she meshes so well with his boys. She has the attitude, the spunk, the sass, and can hold her own; she can take a joke, and knows when she’s had enough and when she’s not totally in control of the situation. Also having the guts to sass David to his face, and know when she’s out for the count stirred something inside him; he needed her to be one of them— she was what they were missing.

“Marko!” All eyes shift to David as he waits for Marko to fulfill his silent command. Smirking, Marko gets off of Y/N’s lap and retrieves a bedazzled wine bottle, presenting it to David. The air shifts in the cave as David pops open the cork smelling the wine, Y/N is too high to really care for his dramatic swig, but as she watches as utter bliss falls on his features she realizes that she’s in desperate need of a drink.

“Drink this, Y/N.” David hands Marko the bottle, watching Y/N’s face intently, “Be one of us.”

The bottle is placed in her hands, but for some reason it weighs a ton to her. Her arms are tingling and a slightly numb feeling settles in her hands, causing her to almost drop the bottle; with quick reflexes, Marko grabs the bottle and brings it to his lips taking in as much wine as he can. He almost spits it out due to a laugh ready to escape him, because Y/N looks 100% pissed off at him for stealing her only relief to cotton mouth. Nudging her knees apart, he nestles his right knee quite comfortably against her clothed core, shifting ever so slightly to hear the small gasps that fall from her lips. He hands Paul the bottle, and placing that hand on the back of the couch for support, he cards his fingers in her tangled curls getting a good grip, tugging her head back.

Her mouth falls open in a gasp which is promptly cut off by Marko’s mouth as he funnels the wine down Y/N’s throat in a breathtaking kiss. Some wine slips from the corner of her mouth, but the majority is swallowed as their tongues dance around each other, teeth scraping against teeth ending with a tug on her bottom lip as he pulls away from her, so she can breathe.

Y/N’s eyes are hooded as the wine and weed mix into her system giving her an otherworldly feeling; she feels like she’s outside her body, seeing everything from the outside-in. The room seems to spin and turn over on itself, the sound of her heartbeat thumps in her ears at a calming pace, warmth spreads through her blood seeping into her bones replacing that numbness with something else— something primal and electrifying.

It doesn’t fully hit her until Paul’s tongue is dragging up her neck to the corner of her mouth, licking away remnants of spilt wine. Turning her head, their kiss is sloppier than Marko’s as they become a mess of saliva and hands grabbing whatever they can, but as soon as her jacket comes off, Paul is lifted off of her by Marko who pushes his blonde brother towards the entrance of the cave. Paul protests, but Y/N is too busy staring at David to care; a fuddled stare is met with an observing one.

The only thing Y/N can hear is her own heavy breathing and blood rushing in her ears, but even as she looks at David’s unmoving mouth, she swears she heard him say,

“Go get something to eat, I’ll stay with her.”

Dwayne walks behind the couch hooking his hand under her jaw, tilting her head back giving her the most sensual, passionate and mind numbing kiss she’s ever had in her life. Tilting her head back more she reaches for the base of his neck pulling him closer allowing his tongue to graze hers, Dwayne’s free hand trails down her arm leaving goosebumps in its path. Reluctantly he stands up licking his lips as he watches her eyes track the movements of his tongue. Smiling at her, he shoots David a quick glance before sauntering to the entrance of the cave in a way that has her following his retreating form. Even though she can’t see him anymore, she stays in her position half off of the couch looking after Dwayne. She didn’t even hear the spurs from David’s boots, but instead feels the shift in weight on the couch. Turning around she’s face to face with David who tracks his eyes across her blissed and cross faded face, it’s amusing how she seemed to go from mouthy to horny and quiet in such a short amount of time.

Leaning back, David takes the wine bottle bringing it up to his lips watching as Y/N watches with unadulterated lustful eyes, chuckling as he knocks it back and grabs her jaw, moving to hover over her. He’s met without resistance as he spills the wine into her open mouth like a small waterfall. Y/N does her best to drink all the wine, but as it fills her mouth, it pours out of the sides of her mouth since David didn’t bother to release the wine slowly. By the time he’s basically spit the wine into her mouth, her jaw, neck and shirt are wet from spilt wine. Pulling back David tilts his head tutting at her, swallowing the last bit of his wine-spit, Y/N leans her head back on the armrest of the couch with closed eyes feeling the sweet tangy liquid roll down her throat, to her stomach, spreading out to her limbs. The euphoria is so strong she lets out a moan as if she’s being fucked out of her mind, this has David pulling her to lay down flat on the couch as he licks and sucks on her neck, pressing his hips into hers every time she lets out a sound of pleasure, or squeezes her legs around his waist.

Willing himself away from her, he gazes down at her as she tugs on his jacket trying to pull him back down, letting out a laugh he sits back raising a brow at the whine she gives him coupled with a pout that has him regret that he didn’t go get something to eat too.

“Shit…” David shakes himself from the grasp of his own lust looking to the entrance of the cave, waiting to hear his boys coming back from their hunt. Another whine from Y/N pulls his attention back to her as she shifts in her spot tugging on her shirt, “They need to get back here now.”

“David~. Please.”

.

.

.

“Fuck it.”

Climbing back on top of Y/N, he captures her lips with his, quickly taking control, growling as her hands find their way into his hair. His jackets are tossed somewhere in the cave, and as he’s getting ready to rip open her shirt—

“DUDE!” David flinches at the sound of Paul’s voice shouting in his head, groaning David rolls his eyes in annoyance before pulling away from Y/N.

“Dude. Seriously?” Is all Marko asks with heavy disappointment David hasn’t heard from the curly blonde ever.

“Not cool, man.” He can see Dwayne shaking his head glaring down at him for clearly taking advantage of the situation.

“What? She asked nicely.” He smirks at the chorus of ‘NAH MAN’s’ and ‘SHUT THE FUCK UP’s’. Looking down at Y/N, she’s all but fallen asleep from the mixture of weed, wine and excitement. Her chest rises slowly indicating that she’s in deep sleep, making a smile appear on David’s face.

“Just don’t do anything to her anymore, man.” David raises a brow at Paul’s command, but ignores it knowing Paul was right in this instance.

“Soon you’ll be just like us.” Moving Y/N’s hair out of her face David listens as her heartbeat begins to slow down until it’s almost nonexistent, leaning down he presses a kiss into her cheek whispering her ear, “Happy birthday, Darling.”

——————

Part 2: Just Turned Immortal

[codeandcreativity]

Reverie

Summary: Spencer and Maeve visit the Folger Shakespeare Museum. Written for @railmereid's 2K writing challenge/prompt: "Do you think we could pretend?"

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Maeve Donovan (PG-13)

Category: Fluff, Angst

Warnings: Allusions to stalking. No explicit spoilers, but this won't make sense if you're not familiar with the beginning of the Maeve arc (Season 8).

Reverie

Lovers and madmen have such seething brains, Such shaping fantasies, that apprehend More than cool reason ever comprehends. -William Shakespeare, A Midsummer Night's Dream

"Do you think we could pretend?" she asks softly.

"Pretend?"

"That we're together."

He looks up, past the scratched and dirty fiberglass casing of the phone booth, down one of hundreds of similarly featured streets from which he might have called her. "How?"

"Your mind is an amazing tool, Spencer. Convince me," she says with a gossamer laugh. "Tell us both a vivid lie."

"A rare vision?" he suggests, warming to the idea.

"Take pains," she says. "Be perfect."

"OK." He slips his hand into his pocket to pull out his own phone. "I'm going to hang up and call you on my cell."

"That sounds like a great start."

He settles the heavy pay phone receiver in its cradle with a satisfying thunk and hits the first speed dial on his cell.

"Hey," she answers right away.

"Hey." He smiles to himself. "You're still there."

"I'm still here."

"Great." He exits the phone booth and walks towards his car, three doors down in front of a coin-operated laundry. "I'm parked outside of Georgetown Laundry," he says, unlocking the door of his horizon blue 1965 Volvo Amazon and sliding behind the wheel.

"I'm right around the corner," she says, voice light with mirth. "Come pick me up."

He follows those welcome instructions, turning the corner at a lazy crawl just in time to see her emerge from the door of her brownstone. Her face is hidden from him by a curtain of rich brown hair as she turns to lock the door behind her. Her figure is mostly hidden, too, beneath a loose white sun dress that falls just past her knees and a gray cardigan that is at least one size too large. She turns at last, her eyes shaded by sunglasses but her smile bright and genuine. She trots down the steps to street level, waving cheerfully as she crosses the sidewalk to his car.

He's out of the car before he knows it, rushing to meet her on the sidewalk. He holds out his hand and says breathlessly, "Maeve."

"I think we're a little past that, Spencer," she says warmly, ignoring his proffered hand and wrapping her arms around him in an embrace that feels like early summer. She smells of cotton and lilac, light and sweet. Without a thought, he buries his face in her shoulder and wraps his arms around her tightly, as if she will float away, an ephemeral thing he must cling to if he is to have any chance of keeping it at all.

"You're really here," he murmurs against her skin. She shivers. He wants to make her do it again, so he says, "Maeve."

She laughs, her hands dancing the length of his spine. "I'm here. Now," she says as she pulls back just enough to see his face. "Where should we go?"

He breathes deeply, soaking in the warm summer air and the tethered feeling of her finally standing beside him. "Where do you want to go?"

She pushes her sunglasses up to reveal pale blue eyes, crinkling with excitement. "Where do you want to take me, Spencer?"

He barely has to think, when she says it like that. "I know a place." He pulls open the passenger side door and offers her his hand again. "Get in."

This time, she takes it, her skin cool and dry against his as she lowers herself into the car. "I should have known you'd drive something with character," she says as he climbs in the driver's side, running her fingers along the vintage console.

"I don't drive it much," he admits, pulling away from the curb and pointing towards their destination.

"I know," she says. "I'm glad you drove it today."

He turns his head for just a second to appreciate the childlike wonder on her face. "Me, too."

"Can I roll down the window?" she asks.

"Of course."

She works the crank until the window is as far down as it'll go, turning her face to the breeze. "I haven't been out of my apartment in so long," she says wistfully.

After a beat, he answers, "I know."

She turns back to him with a reassuring smile. "I can't wait to see where you're taking me."

They drive through tree-lined streets to the historic part of town, calling out landmarks well-known and esoteric, until finally he pulls over and puts the car in park. "I think we're here," he says, squinting through the windshield.

"You think?" she asks playfully.

He chuckles. "Yeah. We're here."

Before them rises a long two-story building with a facade of white Georgia marble, worn by more than 80 years of east coast weather but no less stunning for its age. Tall vertical windows line length of the building, art deco grilles adorning those and the entryway closer to the ground. A series of themed bas-reliefs pose under the windows, figures of stone so well-hewn they seem to not to have been carved from the marble, but to have emerged from it.

"Oh, I haven't been here in ages," she says, hand in his as she leads him up the stairs. Her fingertips hover over the figures, but she doesn't touch. Hers won't be among the hands that slowly erase the figures from the stone from which they were birthed. All the best tragedies already constructed, in word and stone, from Macbeth to Hamlet to Romeo and Juliet , those stupid, star-crossed lovers.

"This sort of artwork is usually installed near the top of the building," he says, watching her face flush with happiness as she traverses the path towards the doors. "The Folgers asked the sculptor to place them closer to street level to give the public a better view."

She pauses a moment in front of crowned Titania, dwarfed by an attentive Bottom, idiots in love. The Fairy Queen's face is turned out, in soliloquy or reverie. Titania's body occupies the same space as her lover's, but her mind is far afield. What a privilege.

She hums appreciatively. "Is there a show today?" she says, turning her hopeful face to his.

He smiles. "What would you like to see?"

"Surprise me!" she says with a grin.

They tour the library until the sun sets, gasping softly at the details of the collection on exhibit in the Great Hall. They admire the finer points of the room itself, with its soaring plaster strapwork ceiling and intricate terracotta floor, inscribed with the masks of Comedy and Tragedy, secreting in its tiles the titles of the Bard's plays. They hover as close to the First Folio as they're permitted.

Their hands never part.

They take in the Elizabethan Theatre, with its three-tiered balconies and carved oak columns, but that's not where either of them want to spend their evening, so he takes her at last out to the garden. And for all the things they've seen today, it's the sight of the formal garden, the smell of lavender and honeysuckle and thyme that pulls the breath from her lungs and she says, "Oh, Spencer."

Palms pressed together, he pulls her closer to his side. He bends his head and whispers, "There's more."

They traverse the garden slowly; she pauses often, to touch an unfurled leaf or inhale the scent of a flower rising brilliantly from the heavily mulched earth. While she drinks in their surroundings, he only has eyes for her. Her dark hair, blunt bangs playful over clear blue eyes, the pretty pink of her cheeks when she catches him looking, the sly curl of her lips that tells him she knows she's got him wrapped around her any way she desires. She has only to say the word.

"They're setting up for the show," he says, pointing down the path with his free hand.

She looks up at him, so pure and full of hope. " A Midsummer Night's Dream ?"

"I can't imagine anything else," he says honestly.

She laughs, soft like a blanket. "I imagine we have our choice of seats."

They do, and when they're settled on a blanket the color of a late summer sunset, she leans over and whispers in his ear, "I brought us something to drink."

"I don't…"

"I know," she interrupts. "It's sparkling apple cider."

Night falls around them and the lights come up. The players on the stage dance and sing through the text seamlessly, interlacing the stories of lovers and actors, tales of fairies and humans, crises of self and burgeoning feminism that make A Midsummer Night's Dream one of Shakespeare's most widely performed works.

As the play proceeds, they turn towards one another, until they are reclining, somehow watching the stage as well as the stars above. Puck makes their appeal to the audience at last, an assurance to the perturbed that what they have witnessed may be nothing more than a dream, to be whisked away by another sleep. There is no applause as Puck sees themself out, only the lingering silence of a theater long after the audience has gone.

They are the players now, alone on the stage.

"Maeve," he says softly, just for her. "Can I kiss you?"

"I think you should," she says, and before he can make a move, she presses her lips to his. Stunned, he reacts only after a moment, his fingers threading into her hair as he pulls her closer. He follows her lead, afraid of taking this ephemeral thing they've made too far. The kisses are passionate but chaste, not that he knows any other way.

Too soon, he feels her stiffen against him. "Spencer."

"What's wrong?" he asks, looking down at her face. The tone of her voice has painted her features ashen. She's only a shade now. A phantom.

He hears a series of beeps, a staccato succession of three.

"I… I have call waiting," she says, her voice truncated with fear.

"Maeve?"

"No one has this number."

"It's OK. Don't hang up. I can get someone to trace it," he tries to reassure her, but the terror in her voice has infected him.

"Spencer, I have to go."

Before he can say anything…

"Goodbye."

"I love you."

"I'm sorry."

"How will I know you're OK?"

…she's gone.

He's standing in a phone booth three doors down from Georgetown Laundry, listening to a dial tone.

-End-

Read on AO3

[sarahreesbrennan]

How come between Season of The Witch and Daughter of Chaos, we skipped Sabrina's dark baptism and Tommy being resurrected/killed and went straight into the Greendale 13 threat? Loving the books so far, just curious. 🖤🖤

That’s a great question and I’m so happy you’re enjoying! I’m so sorry this reply is late, I am on unexpected deadline but I know I have a few Sabrina, Fence and In Other Lands answers owing and I am delighted the questions were asked!

There is a confusion that often arises because the category of media tie-in novels (books set in the world of a media property) has two main subcategories. They are similar and have much in common, but aren’t the same.

A) One is novelizations, which is basically a book that tells the same story as the movie/TV show/graphic novels, but through a different medium. The story covers the same space of time, and includes much of the same dialogue. It’s the same story told in a different way.

B) Two is tie-in books, which tell different stories that fit in before or after, or in the spaces between the story. Often tie-in books start with prequels, telling the tale of how the characters get to the place before the story began. It’s a different story but it’s crafted specifically to tie in with the larger story.

Both subcategories are set in the specific story world. Both offer insight into the characters, their thoughts and feelings, and secret motivations, but they are different kinds of story.

I had no idea of these distinctions before I started to write tie-in books myself, so I explain here because hey, knowledge is always useful. I’ve now read a lot of them, because I wanted to teach myself how to write them and because they’re fun, so I thought discussing examples might illustrate the difference.

The Iron Man novelization by Peter David is widely considered especially good. I’ve read it and I like it a lot: great echoes, perfect story beats. (I discuss it pretty technically because I was reading it in order to teach myself to write a novelization, as opposed to a tie-in novel. I have written a novelization, but not in the Sabrina universe and not under my name for contractual reasons!) It tells the story of the first Iron Man movie, how Tony Stark became Iron Man. A novelization means a lot of the (in this case funny and great) dialogue from the movie must be used, but then with a novelization you have to get pretty specific about why the characters said what they said, and how they felt when they said it. One thing I liked a lot in the novel was the insight offered that Tony Stark’s actions at the beginning of the story were frequently driven by sheer boredom--that he was a genius who wasn’t given enough scope for his genius, and was acting out. 

An example of a fabulous tie-in book is Tess Sharpe’s The Evolution of Claire, a book that ties in with the Jurassic World movies, a prequel of how the heroine Claire gets involved in the dubiously moral world of dinosaur park creation. So it happens before the events of the movies, but by reading it you understand Claire better, her ambitions and frustrations. Another such is Leigh Bardugo’s Wonder Woman novel, Warbringer, showing Diana’s much earlier years, and making you understand more deeply how Diana evolved her moral philosophy and her secret insecurities. 

There’s a great article in the Guardian about tie-in novels: https://www.theguardian.com/books/booksblog/2018/jul/17/tie-in-novelisations-star-wars-jurassic-world

To add to the confusion, stories can have both novelizations and tie-in novels. 

Star Wars famously had absolute masses of tie-in novels. The Star Wars universe is so popular it even has junior and adult novelizations--two different novelizations of the same movie. Patricia C. Wrede, a rather fabulous YA/MG SFF writer, wrote the junior novelizations of the Star Wars prequels. (I’ve read them but if you want to get started on Patricia C. Wrede I would recommend her Enchanted Forest Chronicles. Nothing to do with Star Wars, I just love them.) 

Star Wars also has category B, the tie-in novels. For instance, Resistance Reborn by Rebecca Roanhorse, which is a story that takes place in between the events of the movies The Last Jedi and The Rise of Skywalker. I have also read this book. Very cool interstellar war and spies action, but also... for them that like that kind of thing, among which I would include myself... Poe ties Finn’s tie. Thank u Rebecca Roanhorse.

Similarly, there’s a novelization of Maleficent 2 (Maleficent 2: Mistress of Evil by Elizabeth Rudnick), but there’s also a tie-in novel set between Maleficents 1 and 2 (Heart of the Moors by Holly Black) telling you what happened in between the events of those movies. Significant things can happen in those spaces--deaths, courtships, mysteries solved and secrets told. A dungeon scene between Prince Philip and Maleficent is in Heart of the Moors. It’s very important.

So in a novelization, a retelling of a story through a different medium, you get the same events as in the story. But you might get extra scenes that cast a different light on the story, and you will get access to the inner thoughts and motivations of the characters.

And a tie-in book is usually set in between the seasons of a TV show/movies/issues of a graphic novel. It’s a story made to fit into a liminal space, and meant to shed light both on what happens in between the stories, but to cast light before itself and behind itself--so you might learn more about the characters’ pasts, or learn things about their feelings that will illuminate why they behave in a certain way in the future.  

For the Chilling Adventures of Sabrina, I was hired to write tie-ins, so I wrote a prequel (Season of the Witch) which shows the summer before Part 1, the autumn when Sabrina turns sixteen and has to sign her soul away. It’s an adventure with a rusalka, but also shows us how Sabrina came to be 100% certain her wild witch cousin Ambrose would have her back, why she was insecure enough to do memory spells on her boyfriend (Harvey), and it’s an opportunity to know how the witch world works before our heroine does.

Then I wrote Daughter of Chaos, which happens over mortal New Year’s, right after the Christmas episode that ends Part 1, and before Part 2--because the show didn’t have mortal New Year’s. That was a new adventure that could also tell us how people felt after the events of Part 1, and why people might act the way they would in Part 2. It’s about bad luck spells and enchanted towns, but it’s also about coping with a break-up and how that can put you on a different path, about bereavement and trauma caused by magic, and about longing for affection. Plus it provides us the first hints about hell, before our heroine sees the sparks fly. 

Same deal with book 3, Path of Night, which happens between Parts 2 and 3, in the early spring while Sabrina’s boyfriend (Nick) is in hell. It’s a quest for an item of power to release your beloved from suffering, but it’s also about what happens when you ask a lot (too much?) from your friends, how you can climb out of trauma toward loving relationships (between mean-girl witches and wicked-witch cousins), and how trauma can take someone apart (nobody in hell is having a good time). Plus it provides knowledge about hell before our heroine gets it in Part 3, and glimpses pertaining to heaven.

This month my tie-in novel with C.S. Pacat’s Fence graphic novels comes out (September 29!) and it’s set after the events of volume 4, though the book Striking Distance also works (like Season of the Witch) as an entryway into a new world and an introduction to the characters (in this case a fencing team at an elite boarding school). You try to make every book a possible gateway, but a book 1 definitely should be. (Still, I read Vampire Diaries Book 4 first and caught on just fine, and I recall one reader who read Daughter of Chaos/Chilling Adventures of Sabrina Book 2 and was like, ‘I do not watch this show and did not read Book 1, but I get everything and also Nick Scratch can get it.’)

Another person reading the Sabrina books was like, ‘Sabrina talks a lot about her Dark Baptism in Season of the Witch but then it never happens, Sarah Rees Brennan!’ And this is true, because it happens on the show, and I wasn’t writing novelizations. I think writing Sabrina’s Dark Baptism and Tommy’s death would have been cool and heartbreaking, but I wasn’t meant to retell a lot of scenes from the show. I did snabble a few scenes, but only ones I could use specifically for the purposes of telling the new, in-between stories.

For both novelizations and tie-ins, you get the scripts of the media property you’re working with. Sometimes you get several versions of the scripts. Sometimes you don’t know until you watch the filmed version that scenes got cut. (There were several scenes I read about in the Sabrina scripts, which were cut later, that I used to inform the books. Plus sometimes it’s just fun to watch something and be like, I KNOW WHY e.g. SHE HAS THIS ACCENT/HIS SHIRT DISAPPEARED.) For both you get insights into the story, and especially insights into points of view, that I think you can really only get with books.

For both novelizations and tie-ins, you consult with the writers for the media property, are told things to do and things not to do, and have opportunities to do other optional research. (Things I have done in pursuit of better tie-in novels: written to Sabrina actors and asked them their character thoughts and how they played certain scenes. Forced C.S. Pacat to play with my kitten on a skype call while I took her notes about fencing and feelings.)  

For both novelizations and tie-ins, you have to write them fast, and you have highly specific contracts. Christopher Golden, who’s written many Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Daredevil novels, discusses some details here: https://iamtw.org/from-daredevil-to-buffy-christopher-golden/

So, that’s Options A and B. There’s also Mystery Option C, stories that blur the lines between the two, such as the events of a story told from the point of view of supporting characters, so you see both behind the scenes, the scenes and often before-and-after for the story proper. Tom Stoppard’s play Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead, focusing on Hamlet’s pals from uni. I don’t know what you’d call them. I just wanted to say that they exist too.

Thank you for reading! (Both this and the books.) I hope this was informative and not too dull. :)

[actiobellicahq]

holiday event b: holiday gathering at malfoy manor!

the first thing that one notices when walking into the glorious malfoy manor is the magnificent chandelier that hangs over the entryway. it’s a house most envy and few get the privilege of seeing in person. all four floors of the manor are decorated beautifully, the massive yard is filled with twinkling lights, and anyone exploring the property will find that even the stable has been decorated for the holidays - no stone has gone unturned for this event, which is taking place the evening of december 24th. 

those invited to the party are instructed to wear their finest jewels, and no one would dare be seen wearing the same dress or suit as the year before - who knows what witch weekly would have to say about that! by ten o’clock, the party is in full swing. house elves move quickly about the manor, ensuring everyone has food and drink to spare. hired musicians play the loveliest tunes on the grand piano or their violin, mothers talk excitedly in huddles about the latest news in the world of betrothals, fathers enjoy cigars and card games, the younger children in attendance find that malfoy manor is wonderful for a game of hide-and-seek while the children who fancy themselves nearly adults try their hand at socializing like adults as well. 

everyone is very careful about their appearances and behaviors, of course - if they were foolish enough to embarrass themselves, they risk not being invited again, and who would want to miss one of the most talked about events of the year? it is an evening for socializing, for dancing and drinking, but also for those rather important conversations to be had. deals to be made in the shadow of the many corridors that line the manor. 

the party brings in a range of different people who often only cross paths this time every year. authors, politicians, actresses, those high up in the death eater ranks are many of those you’ll find in attendance. one person in particular to converse with (or admire from a distance, depending on your status) is hanna mori, one of the you-know-who’s closest. meet her eyes if you dare! rumor has it she may even grace us all with a dance later on in the evening with the man of her choice. who should be so lucky?

ooc information:

essentially, this is the “death eater party,” though obviously it’s not a death eater party. only members of wizarding society deemed important enough has been invited - such as sacred 28 families, other notable pureblood families, various famous individuals such as artists and actors and politicians, and of course death eaters themselves. 

mrs. malfoy is into those snazzy art deco vibes if that helps #inspire 

please tag all starters for this with abevent007 and abevent007b, and don’t forget to note in the open starters channel that your character is at the malfoy party so people don’t have to put in aaaaaall that effort into clicking on your starter link and then finding out that it’s for someone they can’t interact with and then having to put so much work into moving their lil finger to the ‘x’ button... truly tragic! nobody wants that that’s far too much work!

this event will be taking place ooc from february 23rd to march 1st. you’re welcome to continue your event threads after march 1st, but all event starters must be posted between those dates! 

if your character is at hogwarts, sadly they will not be able to attend this event because these silly gooses can’t be apparating in and out of the school!

if you have any questions hit us up; we hope you enjoy! have fun, get wild, do exciting things! you’re free to continue your usual threads amongst the event threads as well.

to make things fun and easy, here’s a list of npcs you can include in paras/threads! we’ve even included some faceclaims in case you want to describe them! feel free to make up other npcs, we just thought it’d be fun to make it a lil easier on ya:

elias stone, a well-known death eater who is infamous for being involved in the deaths of over a dozen aurors in the last year alone. fc: daniel sunjata

hetal patel, a world famous stage actress, currently in a touring production that has conveniently stopped in london this week. fc: salma hayek

hanna mori, another well-known death eater. some might call her a black widow with four husbands dying of unknown causes. fc: carla gugino

christian borgin, half-owner of borgin & burkes. need some advice on some dark objects you might be in possession of? this is the man to hit up! fc: giancarlo esposito

preston & vanessa goyle, prominent members of the pureblood society. preston works at the ministry, keeping watchful eyes & ears on the inner workings to warn death eaters. vanessa loves all things glamorous and chances are you have gone to a party at their home before! fcs: dylan mcdermott & rose byrne

[disneyplusfan]

Revisiting our first viewing of The Mandalorian S01E01

A look back at our reactions to Season 1 episodes as the new season of The Mandalorian begins.

November 24, 2019

The Mandalorian: Chapter 1 recap by K (includes detailed spoilers)

A Mandalorian bounty hunter tracks a target for a well-paying client.

Directed by Dave Filoni

Written by Jon Favreau

Music by Ludwig Gӧransson

Airdate: Nov 12, 2019

As I write this, I have watched the first three episodes of The Mandalorian three times now. I’m hooked. I did not expect to be. I expected to like it well enough — but not to love it. 

I’m a Star Wars fan for *cough* many years, since childhood. Adore the original trilogy, intrigued yet annoyed by the prequels, less than wow’ed by the final trilogy. I like Rogue One. I also liked Solo, although I get that I’m one of maybe three people in that camp. I have not watched Clone Wars. So this is my frame of reference.

Boba Fett is perhaps my favorite character. He is one of the best characters in the franchise, and I will die on that hill. You know next to nothing about him, and that adds to his mystique. I read Tales of the Bounty Hunters and Tales of Jabba’s Palace back in the day, and “Last Man Standing: The Tale of Boba Fett” and his showdown with Han Solo will always be the quintessential Boba Fett/Mandalorian story for me, canon or not. I was enraged when they changed his voice in the original trilogy to Jango’s (like he couldn’t just be disguising his voice??). 

For me, Boba Fett is the original Mandalorian against whom all others will be measured. I have spoken. 

All this to say, my standards were high. My expectations for The Mandalorian in particular would have been even higher, if I wasn’t somewhat disappointed by the final trilogy of films. And this was the first live action Star Wars television series, so it’s uncharted territory. 

I also managed not to be spoiled at all for this show going in, which was how I like it. Everything came to me fresh as I watched.

From the establishing shot, the cinematography is like the original series movies. Check. You feel immediately immersed in the Star Wars universe. Check. It’s a snowy ice world, like Hoth but greyer and flatter in terrain.

The titular Mandalorian, who is all but certainly not Boba Fett, as he looks a bit different in his armor (and the show is set 5 years or so after Return of the Jedi, which you don’t know yet in the show itself but meaning Boba Fett should be dead by now, or at least dying in the Sarlacc’s belly), looks good. Same imposing figure, same mysterious-yet-badass immediate impression in his imposing armor and weaponry. Can he pull it off? I mean that for the actor as much as the character. I know nothing about which actor is playing him (Pedro Pascal, from Game of Thrones, I learn later). I’ve remained completely unspoiled. 

He’s holding a tracking device. So, also a bounty hunter. Check.

He’s heading for an establishment, a darkened bar, or saloon, or cantina. Inwardly I eyeroll a little. Another cantina?

From inside the bar we see the round spiral blast door opens from the middle outward and the Mandalorian is darkly silhouetted against the icy white exterior landscape. 

Nice, iconic character-establishing shot. I am interested.

Simultaneously, the music starts. A soft, repetitive, lulling theme of eight wind notes vaguely Native American in tone that we will come to know quite well. For now, it adds a touch of mystery and suspense. The lulling, almost hypnotic aspect of the music gives the sense this is all just routine, and the Mandalorian’s short, almost imperceptible shake of the head as an insult is hurled at him seems to add to this effect.

Two patrons of the bar, a couple of aliens, have been roughing up a meek, chubby merman guy, some kind of aquatic creature. He’s a new species so that’s interesting. They are bullies, who threatened to cut off his glands, so the violent type, and it feels like Mos Eisley or worse. Inwardly I eyeroll again because we’ve seen this before in the original Star Wars film, A New Hope. Don’t they have any new ideas? 

The Star Wars universe has at least one entire galaxy to play with. Yes, establish place as the Star Wars universe with familiar things. But within that we don’t need to keep seeing so many of the same things we have seen before. Give us some easter eggs because we’re fans, but give us new things to love, too. It’s a balance, and I personally want more new than repeat. One of my main gripes with the final trilogy is that it’s too much of the same, just with new characters who aren’t fleshed out and developed enough for me to care about them. But that’s another review.

So it’s a cantina, and they want Star Wars fans who are perhaps not as well versed as me (like say, my sister) to be oriented. Fine, I’ll be patient. I don’t doubt a bounty hunter will frequently find himself in such places.

All the patrons’ eyes are on the Mandalorian as he enters and stands at the bar counter. If you haven’t started to feel vaguely Western elements yet, they start to come now. He’s got his back to the rest of the bar, waiting. Almost baiting. The bullies immediately shift focus leaving the merman alone to go pick on him instead. It’s a mistake and everyone knows it. But they must test our hero. And I too, as if just another patron at this cantina, want to see them test him. I’m curious. 

The loud one calls him “Mando!” and we have something of a name to call him for now. But it might be an insult and I’m not quite sure yet. 

They seem interested in his armor — Beskar Steel — and this is something I personally have not heard of before. I’m interested.

A bit of Mandalorian taunting and a quick fight later, one of the bullies who tried to escape the bar is pulled into the blast door entryway as the Mandalorian’s grappling hook yanks him halfway back inside, and closes it, severing him in half. I let out a bitter laugh. It wouldn’t be Star Wars without some bully losing a body part in a bar fight, right? Check. And the Mandalorian proved himself badass, so far. 

He goes over to the merman, who first just tries to thank him, then bribe him with credits and a drink. The stoic, imposing Mandalorian simply places a disc on the table in front of him, and immediately a holographic image pops up showing his face and name in Basic. 

“Is that a bounty puck?” the merman asks. A device that’s new to me, perhaps not to others. Further interested. The weak man tries bargaining some more.

The Mandalorian brings a hand to his blaster and speaks for the first time. 

“I can bring you in hot, or I can bring you in cold.” 

Cut to opening title credits. 

Perfect first line. 

The voice itself doesn’t immediately wow me. It’s not as grizzled as Fett’s, it’s younger and somehow... unseasoned? I’m not sure. But it’s not Jango’s voice, so I’m willing to accept it. And again I think, why couldn’t Boba Fett have kept his original Jeremy Bulloch voice? 

Title credits. Nice font. The drum beat theme music that also sounds vaguely Western. I like it. 

Then we are back outside on the ice world, walking back up the path where we first saw the Mandalorian. He’s got the merman in handcuffs. 

“I need passage, to the yards.”

An Ortollan, a species from the original series, plays a little flute and a land speeder comes up piloted by a droid. 

“No droids.” 

I find it interesting that our Mandalorian would prefer a living creature to a machine as a programmed droid should be more reliable but perhaps machines can be remote controlled, or else there’s a story there that I really want to hear.

The Ortolan plays his flute again and the next speeder comes up, a red one. It's considerably more broken down than the previous one, driven by an older guy in a hooded coat. “Where to?” 

They pull up to a silver-colored ship of some kind, bigger than the Slave IV I think. Kind of clunky, really, more like a C-130 cargo transport than an F-16 fighter jet — not what you’d expect to be necessary for a bounty hunter to make quick getaways. Merman agrees with me. 

“You’re kidding me, right? I’ll hire us a Livery Cruiser. I’ll pay for it. Just trying to make it pleasant.”

The speeder pilot meanwhile is scanning the horizon anxiously and demands payment. The Mando pays him. “I’d stay off the ice if I were you.” Something’s gonna attack, and probably from beneath the ice. Can’t wait.

Merman is worried and watches the speeder depart into the distance as the Mando readies the ship. 

Something launches up from under the ice and consumes the speeder, and a snakelike body with dragon-like spinal plates disappears beneath it again. Merman freaks out and demands they hurry as the ice cracks in their direction. 

The Mando yanks him out of the way just in time for a giant walrus-tusked creature with a long body launches out next to the ship. It catches part of the ship’s landing gear in its mouth as they try to take off and there’s a familiar sound effect like the Falcon losing power. 

The Mandalorian grabs his tuning-fork weapon from outside the cabin doors (where it stays when it’s not on his back) and heads out to fight. The creature has one of the landing gear legs in its mouth as the music swells very tribal. One zap from the tuning fork weapon and the creature is electrified, immediately lets go, and they escape.

The ship is more impressive in air than on the ground as two enormous jets fire. It seems heavy though. I don’t see any weapons except two forward cannons of some kind, but of course there is probably ample hidden weaponry. Can’t wait. 

Once in space the merman starts bargaining and conversing but the Mandalorian is silent, having none of it. 

“I like your ship,” the merman says, now trying to butter him up. “She’s classic. Razor Crest, am I right? Pre-Empire?”

So it’s an older ship. The cockpit, entryway and ramp, halls and hull are quite wide and roomy. It makes sense that a bounty hunter needs room to carry cargo. I suppose some quarry may be quite large depending on species. I’d like to see him have to capture something large. I wonder if he has a larger ship because he’s young, and can’t yet afford something speedier. Or perhaps he loves it, despite being old and possibly rickety, like Han loved the Falcon. It doesn’t look like it’s been through the wars, though, so that’s a mystery. Can’t wait to learn more about the ship. 

Merman goes below on the pretense of having to use the evacuation tube. There’s some funny toilet humor here. There’s no restroom, the evac tube is in the middle of the floor against a wall--kind of like a New York City basement apartment I viewed once. To the right of the evac tube is a wall with what looks like a palette inside -- I guess that’s where the Mandalorian sleeps? It’s hard to tell.

Merman keeps exploring as he talks. Finds a cache of weapons but surprisingly just closes it again. And then he finds the other bounties.

This actually pissed me off on first viewing. The Mandalorian has several other quarry below deck--all encased in carbonite. I did a massive eyeroll here. Boba Fett (really, Vader) encased Han in carbonite as a matter of convenience at the location they were at in Cloud City. It was a test to see if he could transport Luke that way to the Emperor--IF he survived. But it’s NOT like it was the preferred mode of choice for bounty hunters to transport their quarry. So why would this Mandalorian just happen to have not just bounties in carbon freeze on his ship but has a carbon freezing /chamber/ on the ship, as he shoves the merman into it. 

This really annoyed me until a friend suggested maybe the other hunters heard about Fett and Han at Jabba’s Palace and it became a thing once they knew it wouldn’t kill the bounty. After some thought I have accepted this idea, even though it seems quick if this is only set 5 years after Jedi. Still, the other Mandalorians would have been among the first to know, and it’s a more practical mode of transport allowing low risk of escape and not having to address your quarry’s various biological needs. Also easily stackable while protecting them. So okay, I’ve come to accept it. 

Mando arrives at a spaceport in a semi-large desert city, that actually looks a lot like Tatooine--both what we’ve seen from the original trilogy and the prequels. They never actually state where we are at any of these locations, but this is my theory. There’s a droid like Red, there are people walking around dressed like Tatooine inhabitants. More evidence comes later in the series.

He enters another drinking establishment that seems to be the meeting place for his contact. The feel is very much like the bar where Han shot Greedo, and I wouldn’t be surprised if it was even the same one years later. Aliens of all types, again, watching him closely.

He meets his contact and returns the fobs. Payment is arranged. The Mandalorian says the Empire is gone, and he accepts Calamari flan at half than Imperial credits at full payment. 

The question of the next job comes up. Guild rates are high. The Mando wants the highest. 5,000 doesn’t cover fuel these days. 

The contact says “Well, there is one job.” No puck. Face to face, direct commission. Pays well. “Underworld?” No codes. The Mandalorian accepts the chip.

More of the city. Goes to a back-alley establishment. Arrives at a door with a  TT-8L/Y7 gatekeeper droid, like at Jabba’s Palace. Inside is a walking garbage-can droid like in the Jawa’s ship. I take this as more evidence we are on Tatooine, though of course these items could be sold throughout the galaxy.

Inside there are four Stormtroopers. An older man with an Imperial pendant who is clearly the leader and client. “Greef Carga said you were coming.” So that’s the Mando’s contact back at the bar. “He said you were the best in the parsec.” Haha, at least we are using parsec correctly now.

A side door opens, which startles the Mandalorian and he draws his tuning fork weapon (a modified amban phase-pulse blaster rifle). The four Stormtroopers draw also. A younger man with glasses comes in, shielding his face, apologizing profusely. The client introduces him as Doctor Pershing. A scientist. The Mandalorian still has weapons drawn in both hands, facing off with the Stormtroopers. “We have you four to one.” “I like those odds,” he responds. “He also said you were expensive. Very expensive.” 

All calms down and the client invites him to sit. He unfolds a block of beskar steel as down payment. He has more upon delivery of the asset -- alive. Proof of termination is also acceptable for a lower fee. The Doctor protests. 

No puck. Tracking fob, age, and last known positional data only. The quarry is 50 years old. 

“It is good to return the beskar back to the Mandalorians. It is good to restore the natural order of things after so much disarray, don’t you agree?”

The Mandalorian pauses here and almost imperceptibly again cocks his head. He touched a nerve. Amazing how an actor can still convey so much behind a helmet. I still don’t know this actor but he’s pulling it off. 

More of the city. Whatever that laughing thing was at Jabba’s feet, two of his species are roasting on a spit. One more is in a cage. (It’s a Kowakian monkey-lizard like Salacious Crumb. I had to look that up.)

The Mandalorian ducks in behind a curtain. Down some steps. Strings here that sound very Star Wars. A long hall with other Mandalorians about. Some have the helmet antenna like Fett. Some are small, running. Children.

At the end of the hall over the archway is a Mandalorian skull emblem. Within is a person working at a forge, hammering metal and heating it over a ring of open gas flames like Bunsen burners. The blacksmith, which IMDB tells me is Armorer, comes forward and sits down with our Mandalorian. There is fur around the collar, the helmet is different, golden with two small horns, and looks more like a gladiator helmet. From the way she moves, and especially once she speaks, this is a woman. I am intrigued, since I have not seen a female Mandalorian before. They nod respectfully to one another. The Mando produces his payment: the Calamari flan--and then, the bar of Beskar steel, marked with an Imperial insignia at one corner. She is visibly surprised and impressed.

“This was gathered in the Great Purge. It is good it is back with the tribe. A pauldron is in order. Has your signet been revealed?”

“Not yet.” 

“Soon.” 

A pause here to discuss armor. Any show about Mandalorians was going to have certain elements. Ships, weapons, lore, armor. 

Mandalorian armor is famous in the Star Wars universe. Beskar steel, the material it is made of, is strong, and can withstand almost anything, yet very light, rather like mithril in the Lord of the Rings universe. It would seem the Great Purge by the Empire included not just Jedi but Mandalorians, and their armor was melted into bars, as currency or for transport. (This is speculation on my part.) And that a goal of the Mandalorians is to reclaim as much beskar as possible, and reforge it back into Mandalorian armor. 

The blacksmith does just this and makes him a pauldron, or shoulder cover, from the bar of beskar. She tells him this is extremely generous and the excess will sponsor many foundlings.

“That’s good,” he responds. “I was once a foundling.”

“I know.”

A bit more of our hero’s background. 

Her forge is a combination of computerized part designs and heavy iron machinery, like a 3-D printer on steroids. And as it bangs out the new pauldron each loud clang of metal on metal shows us a brief flashback of our Mandalorian’s memories. A battle with fire and sparks all around. A woman in dark red robe carrying a boy also in dark red robe. He is terrified. Presumably this is our hero. She is carrying him, he’s maybe 8-10 years old. A man is with her, her husband? People getting shot--massacred--all around them as they run. Explosions. She opens an underground container of some sort, deposits the boy. He has brown hair, brown eyes, and olive skin. He reaches for her as the doors close. And then the pauldron is completed; the flashbacks stop.

Having viewed 3 episodes already, this becomes a pattern and I love this device. You get a little more of his backstory with each piece of armor, with each clang of the forge. It’s perfect. It makes sense that in these moments as he waits in this safe place, he might slip into memories. Or perhaps they come unbidden at this time for some reason. There’s also a nice theme of memories being buried beneath his armor, along with his emotions. And only when there’s a chink in the armor, does it show through.

The pauldron goes on, shiny and new, and for the first time I notice the wipes. A center point wipe expanding outward, with fuzzy borders, and so very Star Wars that it makes you smile. 

He heads to another planet that looks from space like Tatooine. If we weren’t on Tatooine before, we might be now. We are at least in the vicinity. It’s a desert planet with jagged sandstone cliffs all around. He lands his shiny ship, and gets out with the fob. He looks through his turning-fork weapon’s scope, and spots two distant creatures I can only describe as land grouper with legs and long tails. Suddenly he is attacked by one, sinking its teeth into his arm before he can get a shot off, and then a second, and though he fights with flamethrower and even fists, it looks like we will lose our hero until someone shoots them with taser darts. 

It appears our hero is not wounded, but his arm pieces are damaged. 

A small man with a piglike face and a kind, wise voice and goggles on his head. An ugnaught. Remember them from the original trilogy? IMDB tells me his name is Kuill, although this is never actually said in the episode, so I will refer to him as the ugnaught. 

I suspect anonymity is a running theme in this show, as part of the Western genre. So far we’ve heard almost no character names (which makes writing reviews a little difficult). I’m wondering if there’s any significance to the ones we do know, vs. the ones we don’t.

“You are a bounty hunter. I will help you. I have spoken.” This last part is his trademark line, as we’ll see. I love it. 

We go to what looks like a wind or moisture farm. There is, from what I can see, only one sun. 

The ugnaught tells the Mandalorian that others have come looking and died. He will show him the way for half of the blurg they caught. Mando will have to learn how to ride them to pass to the compound. 

On the first few attempts the blurg throws him. Apparently it’s a female; the males are all eaten during mating. (Thanks for that tidbit, Kuiil.) He gets thrown again and loses patience, asking for a speeder. 

The ugnaught challenges him. 

“You are a Mandalorian. Your ancestors rode the great mythosaur. Surely you can ride this young blurg.” 

Our hero is challenged; the words touched him. He approaches the blurg like a wild horse that needs breaking in, and the Western theme is back, even in the music. Eventually he succeeds, a triumphant moment that impresses the ugnaught, and they’re off across the landscape full of ravines that only the blurg can jump, apparently. The theme music swells until they arrive at a cliff where they can spy on the encampment. This is where the bounty hunter’s quarry is. 

Mando tries to pay him off. Ugnaught reveals his motive: it’s been an endless stream of warriors trying to get this quarry, breaking the peace. He’s read the stories about Mandalorians and believes ours can make quick work of it and bring peace back to his land. 

Our boy does some recon with a hand telescope and the place is swarming. Then he spots a bounty droid, and groans. The droid is just walking right in, and demands the asset be produced.

The bounty droid looks like IG-88 from The Empire Strikes Back and again, for a moment, I almost eye rolled because really, can’t we see something new? All bounty droids look the same? But whereas IG-88 just stood there, this one moves, and the way he moves is COOL. Although humanoid in appearance like 3PO (head, two arms, two legs), unlike 3PO he appears to operate around a central pole or spine, allowing his parts to rotate 360 degrees. This includes his head, his eyes, his arms and therefore weapons, and his waist/hips. It gives him an amazing advantage as he can just keep spinning and shooting. The way he steps over a body is awesome. He’s also really skinny and thus hard to hit. Whole new respect for the IG series. 

This IG unit is also funny, and his repartee with our Mandalorian is instant comedic chemistry. There’s a fantastic shootout, where they team up, and as they are outnumbered, the bounty droid seeing no way out, keeps trying to self-destruct. “Do not self destruct!” our Mando keeps shouting at him, and after a very badass moment with an [ion machine gun], by the end they win, and everyone in the yard lies dead. Mando helps him up, saying “You’re not so bad for a droid,” and the droid replies likewise. I saw a sidekick in the making. They shoot their way inside, kill a few more people until there’s no one left, and determine the quarry is just before them in the corner. 

Except there is no one there, just a white ball looking thing with a net over it that the fobs indicate is the target. 

They remove the net, and open the ball, which is really more egg-shaped. 

And then it opens, it looks more like a bassinet with a blanket inside. 

“Wait--” says Mando. “They said 50 years old.”

“Species age differently,” replies the IG unit. And we get our first glimpse over the top of the blanket as he says “Perhaps it could live many centuries. Sadly, we’ll never know.” And as he’s speaking, a little head peeks over the blanket.

Oh. My. God. And in this one moment, I am glued to this show forever. 

It’s a baby Yoda. 

Except it isn’t Yoda, because Yoda’s dead. But we don’t know Yoda’s species name, and we don’t know the baby’s given name, so we will call it what the internet has dubbed it in the meantime: Baby Yoda. 

And this moment, above all, is the biggest reason I am so glad I wasn’t spoiled. 

Baby Yoda is the most adorable, most precious, most endearing thing you have ever seen. And in a franchise that has at times been criticized for its more saccharine “cute” creatures that appeal to young children (Ewoks, anyone?), this is one we can all get behind.

Baby Yoda is CUTE. <3

Baby Yoda is everything.

Remember my aversion to anything we’ve seen already? I NO LONGER CARE. Looking at those huge brown eyes and long floppy ears, this doesn’t even cross my mind. 

I would give my life for Baby Yoda. I know this all in one second.

And the IG unit is about to kill it. 

Apparently our Mando feels something similar. 

“Wait,” he says, and reaching out he lowers the IG unit’s weapon. “We’ll bring it in alive.”

“The commission was quite specific. The asset was to be terminated.” The IG unit raises his blaster again, aimed squarely at the crib.

The camera closes in on the Mandalorian’s helmet, fixed on the bassinet, and there is a red blaster flash from his right, reflected in the helmet. The Mando’s head never moves. 

But the IG unit falls to the floor, shot in the head. Sizzling. He’s toast. 

Our guy shot him without even looking. He’s fixated on Baby Yoda, as we all are. He puts his own blaster away, and tilts his head.

The camera cuts to a gorgeous profile, backlit from a doorway. The Mandalorian stands before the crib, which is now floating in the air at waist height. He raises a finger towards the crib, as a tiny finger comes up from inside it. They don’t quite meet. 

End credits. 

End credits for this show are a series of beautiful concept drawings and if you know Star Wars at all, these are some stunning art. The whole theme also plays over the end credits and it is hauntingly beautiful. Ludwig Gӧransson’s score is perfect. 

Thoughts.

Themes: Space western. Anonymity. (Even the ship still has no name, just a model.) Foundlings. Characters that seem to have no family, but instead bond in other social ways (covert/religion, bounty hunter guild/profession). Remnants. Loss.  

I LOVE the concept art at the end. Fans love this concept art, and I have a couple of books of it myself. Nice way to incorporate it into the series. You can see how the original concept and final product differ (very little, in most cases) and a few intriguing pieces that were either filmed but cut from the final edit or never filmed. I love how they add the 3-D effect to some of the drawings, and I still don’t know how Hollywood achieves that. 

Concept art round-up: 

Mando and Baby Yoda’s ET moment 

Some intriguing glow-dice game between two Mandalorians? I need to know more about this.

Mando firing a blaster

Mando entering a cantina

Mando and Kuiil on Blurrback

Mando and IG-11 taking cover during battle

Mando and Kuiil entering Kuiil’s home

Mando walking on the icescape with his back facing the camera

Mando battling the ice creature while hanging out of the Razor Crest

Mando and IG-11 standing shoulder to shoulder

Mando on Blurrgback

Taika Waititi is amazing as the IG unit bounty droid. Never would have guessed it was him.

Werner Herzog is perfect as The Client, I love his voice, and the article/video about him crying over Baby Yoda. 

This show is going to get me writing fanfic again, dammit. 

*****

The Mandalorian: Chapter 1 recap by K (includes detailed spoilers)

A Mandalorian bounty hunter tracks a target for a well-paying client.

Directed by Dave Filoni

Written by Jon Favreau

Music by Ludwig Gӧransson Airdate: Nov 12, 2019

Run Time: 40m

Greef Karga (Carl Weathers)

The Client (Werner Herzog)

Dr. Pershing (Omid Abtahi)

Kuiil (Nick Nolte, voice)

IG-11 (Taika Waititi, voice; Rio Hackford, performance artist)

Mythrol (Horatio Sanz)

Alpha Trawler (Tait Fletcher)

Beta Trawler (Ryan Watson)

Quarren Trawler (Dmitrious Bistrevsky)

Armorer (Emily Swallow)

[jerkbitchidjitassbutt]

Hope To See You (2 - Fin)

Characters: Jensen x Reader

A/n: Ask and ye shall receive! Here is the second (and final) part to “Hope To See You”. So many wanted a part two, so here it is! Thank you @our-jensen-ackles-love for this little bit of inspiration that now turned into a two part mini series. I needed it. Single!Jensen (kind of set around season 4 in my mind, idk why). Also, I left the reader’s job open, so you can interpret it however you want! Warnings: Embarrassment? Cussing? Jensen being adorable and sexy? Completely un-beta’d, all mistakes are mine. Hooray hurricanes (not!).

Opening your door to the warm Vancouver wind, you took a deep breath before retreating down the stairs to meet the man who had managed to fluster you further in your most fluster-able moment. The incident from yesterday still fresh in your mind, you couldn’t help the flush of your cheeks as you passed the spots where most of your delicates had been scattered the day before. Hell, you spent most of the day pacing in your new apartment from nerves of anticipation.

The flow of your above-the-knee sundress swirled as you bounded down the steps, the heels of your wedges clanking with each footstep. Rounding the bottom platform, where you had first been collided with the green-eyed actor, your heart pounded in your chest, partially wondering if he’d still be meeting you here as he said in his message or if he had changed his mind. It was still a little surprising that he would even hope to get to know you, especially after the compromising situation you had found yourself in.

The man had seen more of the contents of your underwear drawer than even your last serious boyfriend, and not in a good way.

You twirled around the last railing and strolled into the entryway of your building where Jensen was pacing near the revolving door, checking his watch and wringing his hands as you walked towards him. Despite the gentle click of your heels, he had yet to notice you. Taking a chance to ogle from a distance, you took another moment to appreciate how handsome he truly was—in person. You had plenty of chances to view him on screen as you binged half of the first season of Supernatural last night, but it honestly didn’t do him justice to be in front of a camera. In dark wash jeans, boots, and a crisp blue and white plaid shirt, the colors made his skin look generously tanned and his freckles danced in the dim sunlight. His long, bowed legs looked powerful even hidden behind denim and his hair was effortlessly tousled in the most gorgeous way, like he had been recently running his hands through it.

Finally, he took notice of you walking towards him and beamed a dazzling smile that made you go weak in the knees. Literally. You tried to recover quickly as your wedge slipped out from under you on the shiny marble floor, causing your ankle to roll slightly.

Can I be anymore elegant? You thought sarcastically.

Jensen gave a slight chuckle as he hurried towards you, “Are you okay?” he asked, still giggling as you brushed the hair from your face.

“Oh yeah, I’m good. Just being graceful, you know… My mother always said I was grace incarnate, even as a child.”

“Well, its very charming, I must say.” Jensen winked.

You couldn’t help the shaky breath that left you in a huffed laugh, “Okay. Just stop doing that and I may be able to stay upright.”

He flashed a flirtatious smirk and raised his eyebrow, “That’s not much incentive for me to stop, now is it?”

In ever more sophistication, the only response you could manage was a strangled giggle and some fidgeting, mentally reprimanding yourself for being both a bumbling idiot and so ready to just let him to make good on his suggestion.

“I’m just kidding.” Of course you are. Dammit. you thought as he slipped his arm around your waist. “Are you hungry?” he asked, leading you out of the revolving door.

You nodded eagerly, “Starving.”

“Good. I’ve got a great place in mind.”

Jensen ushered you to his sleek, black SUV and opened the door with an exaggerated bow, “My lady.”

Again, all you could do was grin like a fool and mumble a ‘thank you’.

After a short drive of small talk and music in the background, you arrived outside of a small restaurant on the outskirts of the city.

“Do you like Thai?”

Huffing, you replied, “Are you kidding? Its my favorite!”

“Awesome. This place is the best, I promise. The owner just moved here from Thailand two years ago.”

You had faith in his choice. Granted, it was a mom-and-pop restaurant, but in your experience the “hole-in-the-wall” places were always the best.

You hopped out of the car with excitement, “I hope you’re ready to see a girl eat. I don’t hold back when it comes to Thai food.”

He extended his hand towards you as you rounded the front of the car and laced his fingers with yours as you accepted. The simple gesture felt surprisingly familiar but still made your stomach tumble in a fantastic way.

“Oh-ho-ho… are we going to have a contest?” he mused.

“We just might, Ackles.”

Dinner was filled with too much food, enough laughter to make your stomach sore, and more lingering touches than what would be considered just a friendly dinner. He filled you in on the happenings on the set of the show and you both exchanged your histories, everything from childhood to your latest endeavors. It was only your second night in this new life, and it couldn’t have been a better night.

You sat in the passenger’s seat with your hand entwined with Jensen’s as he drove back to your shared apartment building. You loved that he made every excuse to touch you in some way, whether it was holding the door and placing his hand on the small of your back, or grazing your fingers with his as you both reached for the appetizers. You’d always heard of this feeling—the giddy, dizzying type of first date that your friends had bragged about—but you’d never experienced it before.

As Jensen walked you to your door, he slipped his arm from your waist to take your hand in his, “Well, Y/n, thank you for coming out with me tonight.”

“I had a wonderful time. Thank you for asking me.”

“I’d invite you to my place, but I have to get up pretty early. I have to go to work and see this stunning woman with the most beautiful smile I’ve ever seen.”

You feigned shock, “Oh, really? And who might this girl be? Do I need to kick some ass?”

He laughed. Gosh, you could definitely get used to that sound.

“I don’t know if you’d win, she’s pretty badass.” He stepped closer. “I only just met her yesterday, but…” as he gently tucked a loose strand of curls behind your ear, his fingers grazed the curve of your jaw sensuously, igniting every nerve of your body, “she’s amazing.”

Any witty retort was lost on your lips as he leaned in, softly molding his mouth to yours. Your eyes fluttered shut as you carefully kissed him in return, allowing the warmth of his tongue to seep into you as he licked at your lower lip. His arms snaked tightly around your waist as he tenderly explored you. You couldn’t resist reaching your arms around his broad shoulders and graze your fingers into his hair, conceding to the want and need you felt in that moment.

Slowly, and torturously, he slipped you out of his grasp, tracing the curves of your hips with his hands as he retreated. Your kiss-swollen lips made him want to dive back in the second he laid eyes on them, but he simply raised your hand and planted a lingering kiss to your palm.

“I can’t wait to see you tomorrow.”

“I can’t wait either. Wish me luck on my first day.” You breathed.

“You’ll do amazing. I know it.” He lingered a moment longer before he withdrew and turned towards his own apartment door across from yours, “Sweet dreams, Y/n.”

“Goodnight, Jensen.”

............

One Year Later

“Y/n?” Jensen called from your bedroom. “What this box?”

“Which one?” You questioned from the kitchen.

“Uh, the one with about a pound of tape wrapped around it? Marked, ‘do not drop’ in big bolded letters?”

“Oh.” You replied nonchalantly, waltzing into the doorway. “That’s my lingerie.”

He paused and looked at the box once more before doubling over in laughter. “What?” he asked, wiping tears from the corners of his eyes, “You don’t want to meet another charming, awesome guy by throwing your bras all over the stairs?”

“No, honey.” You giggled, “You’re the only one that gets to see my knocker lockers from now on.”

He stopped mid-bend as he was about to pick up the box, “You’re—you’re what?!”

“My knocker lockers. You know, tit mits? Flopper stoppers. Over-the-shoulder-boulder-holders… My bras, Jensen.”

He stared at you from his squatted position for a moment before breaking out in a grin, “Oh my God, you are so weird.” He chuckled, standing and walking towards you as you leaned against the doorframe.

You shrugged, “Yeah. I know. Are you sure you still want to move in with me?”

He slipped his arms around your waist and pulled you to him, lifting you to wrap your legs around his hips, “Of course, baby. I love every bit of you, even your weirdness.”

With your arms around his shoulders, you pecked his lips and gazed into the greenest eyes you’d ever seen, “Good. Because I love you too.”

“Good.” He replied, laying a swift and playful but gentle smack to your bottom. “Now come on, we’ve got boxes to move. Jared should be here soon to help take another load to the new house.”

You uncrossed your ankles and bounced back to the ground, “Okay. I’m almost done with the last kitchen box. Remember, be careful with that one.” You warned, pointing to the incriminating box in his hands.

“Don't worry. I will.” He smirked.

No sooner did he breeze through your front door did you hear what sounded like a cardboard box tumbling down the stairs, followed by a string of elaborate curse words.

“I told you!” you yelled through the door, seeing Jensen chasing the box onto the second flight.

“Its okay! I got it. I got it!” he triumphantly yelled as he grabbed it, smiling and holding the box above his head for proof.

He continued down the steps, both arms securely wrapped around the package.

You giggled and headed back into your kitchen.

“See?” you said aloud. “That’s why I taped it.”

A/n 2: I consider this an AU, as Jensen is single in this fic. This is completely a work of fiction, and I wouldn’t want his reality to be any different, this is purely for entertainment.

[clansayeed]

Bound by Circumstance ― Chapter 18: Let Me Do You This Kindness

PAIRING: Nik Ryder x trans*M!MC (Taylor Hunter) RATING: Mature

⥼ MASTERLIST ⥽

⥼ Bound by Circumstance ⥽

Taylor Hunter (MC) has made it good for himself in New Orleans; turns out moving to a new city fresh out of college to reinvent yourself isn’t as hard as people make it out to be. Things only start to get confusing when he finds himself the target of a malevolent wraith. Good thing someone’s looking out for him though — because without Nighthunter Nik Ryder as his bodyguard he definitely won’t survive long in the twisting darkness of the supernatural underworld he’s tripped into.

Bound by Circumstance and the rest of the Oblivion Bound series is an ongoing dramatic retelling project of the book Nightbound and the rest of the Bloodbound series. Find out more [HERE].

Note: Circumstance only loosely follows the events and plotline of Nightbound, and features a separate antagonist, different character motivations, and further worldbuilding.

*Let me know if you would like to be added to the Circumstance/series tag list!

⥼ Chapter Summary ⥽

The Fate intervenes.

[READ IT ON AO3]

“You were there — you were watching us at Prytania Street.”

“In a way, yes and no.”

“It can’t be both. I saw you there.”

“Yes, I was witness to the events of which you speak. But no, I was not there as you were there; on the physical plane. I bear witness to all things. That is my purpose and my burden.”

“You could have done something.”

“You are mistaken, halfling child.”

“Bullshit. That’s—That’s bullshit. Its an excuse to justify doing nothing!”

“If that is what you choose to believe I cannot stop you, only try to sway your mind.”

“Well you won’t.”

“The world’s belief that I am capable of more than giving testimony is a false one. I cannot change the course of what is to be, no more than you can. I see every outcome, every possibility — every path from the moment it is built reaching out into oblivion.

“Who walks those paths — who has the ability to forge them new or break the chain — that is up to the individual. Certain roads will always be taken, yes. But the forces making those decisions were here long before me and will exist long after I am gone.”

He’s angry. And because he’s angry he’s indignant — he doesn’t want to believe them. Not when they speak in the voice of a forgotten child or a lost lover or someone whose time has come yet they find themselves filled with only bitter regret.

Always with the same golden eyes.

The weight of his breath sends Taylor’s body into tremors of emotion. Things he knows all too well — despair, guilt, self-blame — and things he has no name for; might never have a name for in any human language.

They overwhelm him until they don’t. Until he can look at each and every face of The Fate and speak.

“I don’t remember. Why don’t I remember?”

It’s his voice, his tongue curling around the words formed on his lips. But they aren’t his. They’re just sort of pulled out of him like they were trapped deep in his belly on a string.

Words that come not from the mind but from some place deeper. Those dying embers he thinks may have once been called his soul.

The Fate turns their wrinkled face away.

He knows this emotion. Shame.

“Why don’t I remember?” he asks again.

Doesn’t know where he is, or how he got here, or what it all means. But like hell he’s going to move or be moved without an answer.

“I thought it would be kinder.”

Their new voice wavers. A new face looks back at Taylor — creases in a frown that will settle into lines of age eventually, but not quite yet; thinner lips, yet hands still youthful. They look so much like his mother it hurts.

Thought what would be kinder? What happened? Where is everyone? Where is Nik?

All very important questions. All answers he first wants, then craves, then needs in order to remember how to breathe.

Instead he just whispers a weary “please,” because they both know what it is he’s pleading for.

But The Fate is reluctant — that much is obvious. “I would rather you understand before I did.”

“Understand…?”

“That I am merely the storyteller. Not the book, not the author, just a voice reading from the pages.”

This again. Can they blame him for being skeptical? For thinking someone with a name like The Fate might have a say in the order of the universe, in who lives and who dies?

“If I tell you I believe you, will you give me back my memories?” Will you explain? Will it all make sense?

“Would you be lying to me, Taylor Hunter?”

“You’re The Fate — wouldn’t you know?” Then, met with only silence, he does the only thing that feels right. He just shrugs. “I don’t know. I don’t — I don’t, okay? I’ve been asked to believe in a lot of impossible things lately, but this… this is more than that, and that makes it harder.”

Because if The Fate really has no say in the way things have been then that means they have no say in the way things end.

The Coven Elders do.

His friends do.

He does.

But not someone who could make it all better.

And that’s terrifying.

“So I don’t know,” he repeats, “and that’s my final answer.” Not the right or wrong answer, but the final one.

He’s met with a chilling reality when The Fate reaches out their hand and he takes it and feels home. The Fate doesn’t just look like his mother; they are wearing her face.

It’s a useless epiphany though.

Because he remembers.

What’s an extra hour or two?

The difference between life and death.

By the time he notices the familiar figure of The Fate standing just off stage left it’s too late.

The screams, the crackle and POP of a spotlight sending sparks showering down onto the stage, the heat and flames and smoke choking the breath out of him — those all came later.

First came the explosive bang of double doors opening at the back of the theatre. If there was ever an apt time for an actor to fumble their lines it was then.

He still hated Antoni, the prick, but gave credit where credit was due — a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it beat in between stanzas and Oberon was right back in the depths of his monologue.

Second was the gust of wind that turned heads — Taylor’s included — to the draft coming through the gaping doorway. It reeked of revelry and jaegerbombs with just a hint of despair.

Taylor was convinced that last bit was his imagination having a last-ditch effort to try and ruin his happiness. Stupid, stupid boy he was; turning back to the stage like that.

Third came thunk. thunk. thunk.

He could recall, if only vaguely, the rehearsal where Daphne suggested imitating the Globe Theatre in London. She wanted to engage with the audience as Puck and the director loved it.

Her last big entrance was from the back of the theatre, right — he’d forgotten.

Thunk. thunk. thunk.

Daphne came barreling down the sloping path — collided with the stage with wet noise.

Or… her head did.

And it rolled in classic horror-movie gothic to stare lifelessly at the audience. Eyes milky white, veins blackened and bulging under tissue paper skin.

What came next doesn’t matter. If the curtain caught fire before or after Theseus fainted from terror didn’t matter.

The only thing that mattered was the wretchedly familiar grotesque hovering in the entryway — the shadow it cast stretching long, mangled limbs out towards them.

The bloodwraith let out a screeching howl that shattered glass, incited fire, sent the entire space into a pitch darkness only to glow and flicker with hungry flames.

I’m sorry. His first and only thought.

Nothing else The Fate gave back to him mattered.

“Holy shit — am I dead?!”

Taylor uses the thought to grapple back onto the present and pull himself together. Doesn’t even think about whether or not he should be using that kind of language in front of a very very old supernatural being but okay maybe he’d been a little premature in the ‘nothing else’ department.

If he was dead that definitely mattered. Because if he was dead Nik was going to kill him.

When The Fate readjusts themselves — a refined and more calm way of saying ‘recovers from whiplash’ — they reassure him with a small shake of the head, silvery wisps on a balding head shaking out to perfect and natural curls. “No, you are not dead.”

“Oh thank god,” he whistles low, but its the relief that catches him by surprise. And not just because he doesn’t have to worry about being chewed out by a surly Nighthunter.

He’s actually relieved to be alive. Or at least not dead. One of those things he wouldn’t normally perturb the semantics over but given everything that’s happened it only seems right.

“Am I alive?”

“In a way.”

“That’s a yes or no question. Please let that be a yes or no question.”

It takes Taylor a moment (his brain is catching up as quick as it can, yeesh) but when it becomes clear The Fate, powerful ethereal being witness to everything until the end of time, is amusing themselves with his reactions he tries his best not to give any.

He fails, of course, but he tried his best.

“Yes, halfling child, you are alive.”

“And —” Nik? Elric? Vera? Cal-Kathy-Cadence? Garrus-Krom-Ivy? “— everyone else?”

“Is there one for whom your concern is greatest?” It sounds almost clinical; doesn’t help that they now sound eerily similar to his hormone therapy physician.

Maybe they hoped Taylor would have to think about it. Maybe they wanted to see what makes him tick.

Too bad. “I’m not picking which of my friends I care about the most, if that’s what weird all-knowing trope you’re going for.”

“Not even your father is placed above them?”

“I barely know the guy. That answer it for you?”

The Fate gives a “hmm” and a nod. “Forgive me, I have never had such luxuries.”

“Family, friends?”

“Those as well. I see the bonds of the material made; thousands, millions in the spaces between heartbeats. But I do not feel them. I wish that I could.”

It rings wrong in his bones. Makes his blood curdle in his veins. “If you’re trying to justify preying on my fears to learn emotions, I’d say stop.”

“Is there a threat to be made?”

“No.” He’s not stupid — but he’s not just going to stand there and take it, either. “You didn’t answer my question. Are my friends — all of them — alive too?”

He can tell The Fate hesitates as one last test of wills. Still it doesn’t stop him from clapping a hand over his mouth when they finally nod.

“Thank god…”

They’d thought it would be safe. That they had time—however brief—to try and make the most of things; time together, the city in all her glory.

Taylor doesn’t realize they’ve been walking together, a simple man and Fate, until he stops and looks out of one of the large windows lining the hallway.

Outside is beautiful. It’s a lacking word but the only one that comes to mind. It’s the kind of sunset that people write entire poems and songs about because they can’t think of a simple one-word description either. So it’ll do.

He drinks it in — the vibrant sunset that reaches long tendril fingers of pinks and oranges across the sky and continues on and on and on into an endless horizon. Bright enough to illuminate dust motes hovering practically immobile in the still air around him. Even his heavy and awestruck breathing doesn’t disturb them.

Like he isn’t even there.

And it occurs to him like an afterthought that if he left this place to commune with that sherbet sky he’d never find the end. There’s a peace in that.

He could ask the obvious; where are we, how did we get here, what does it all mean, but instead he focuses on the things he does know rather than what he doesn’t. “You brought us here.”

“Yes.”

And he hadn’t planned it at all; the trap The Fate has so willingly fallen into. But there it is.

“That means you intervened.” He turns away from the world beyond only because he has to. Catches their ever-changing face in the sunset’s light. “I thought you couldn’t intervene.”

When they finally answer the words are chosen with care; careful not to reveal too much, careful not to make promises unable to be kept. “I did not change the course of what is to come; that is beyond me. But it is not beyond you, and so the lines blur. If you could be guided, or given more time, or protected from a death thought previously inevitable, then perhaps you could enact that change with your newfound advantages.”

His mouth twists ruefully. “You’re telling me you found a loophole in destiny?”

“Of a sort.”

“And you choose now to do it? That’s…” For once in his life Taylor thinks before he speaks; to his benefit. “Unless this isn’t the first time you’ve done it.”

The Fate looks at him with the eyes of a child again; a disturbingly profound wisdom looking him over as if in a new light. “There are very few places in the puzzle of time where I may fit.”

“So all that stuff you said about being an observer — what you’re saying is that’s a load of crap.”

“Would I have told you then what little I could do, would you have believed my interference so small?”

They’ve got a point. “No.”

“Then you see why these revelations take time.”

Maybe he does. That doesn’t change the truth, though. Doesn’t change the thoughts racing through his mind; thoughts of the dozens, hundreds of things that have happened that could have been changed in some little way. Changed had they had more time, or if they’d known more.

Or if he hadn’t been protected.

If Nik hadn’t been in the graveyard, Taylor would be dead. He was there, and at the bar, because…

“You hired Nik to protect me. You were the one on the other end of the phone line.”

“Yes.”

“Did it make a difference? No—No it couldn’t have. You said you couldn’t change it. You —”

“All that is meant to unfold still will. If not as swiftly as the witches had hoped.”

“So all you did was prolong the inevitable.”

“All I did?” his question played back to him in a voice rusted with time, incredulity on The Fate’s new leathery features, “You think so narrowly. What have you changed, what have you incited?”

“The Elders are still —”

“What. have. you. done.”

“I —” Is it any wonder he falters under the intensity of that stare; the weight of their words bearing down on him heavier than anything he’s tried to carry before?

Fine. What has he done?

He’s hurt Garrus by bringing Elric to the show. 

He’s brought Garrus and Krom closer.

He’s put Vera in danger. 

But given her a chance to reconcile with her mother.

He’s the reason Cal was cast out from his pack. 

And the reason Donny is still alive.

Stop it, Taylor wants to say, because there’s no way that annoying voice in his head contradicting everything he’s thinking is him. It’s them — they’re in his mind.

But he’s heard dozens of voices from dozens of their lips; none of them have sounded like him.

And only his voice is ringing between his ears.

“If I’d died in the cemetery that night — would any of those things have happened? Be honest.”

“I see all outcomes; the realms in which they did happen and those where they did not.”

“Okay, so —”

“But because of you, Taylor Hunter, they did. And that cannot be undone.”

Taylor reels at the very thought of it. Talk about daring to disturb the universe. But all those things — they’re speaking of the past, of the present.

What about the future?

“Was it enough, though?” Was it enough to make a difference? Enough to save them? Enough to win?

Instead of answering with words The Fate reaches up, out. Doesn’t let up even though Taylor recoils (for good reason) at the weight of permanence that hangs around them in an unseen aura. According to The Fate themselves there are versions of this story where he dies; is already dead.

And knowing that doesn’t scare him nearly as much as being touched by someone who has seen it happen.

“Those who seek to change destiny always fail,” — something so morbid and hopeless shouldn’t sound so reassuring — “because it will always lie out of their reach. They never understand how to bring it closer. Now you do.”

The warmth of the sunset beyond prickles the back of Taylor’s neck. But even basking in the glow as they have been The Fate’s fingers are cold as ice.

Cold with the weight of the sorrows they’ve seen.

Wherever they are stretches out infinitely on either side of them. He hasn’t seen another soul this entire time. Knows somewhere deep inside himself that no matter how many halls he sees, no matter how many doors he opens, they reside here together. Alone.

So why then does he whisper? Who the hell knows.

“If you’ve seen all the terrible ways this could end… why do it? Why try?”

“Because,” they smile and suddenly Taylor sees why every other part of them is cold; to compensate, “I have hope.”

How, how can they have hope when they know what’s coming? “Hope for what?”

“Hope that you will prove me wrong.” You can change what is to come.

“Talk about your unrealistic expectations.” How?

“It has been done before — however rare.” You already know how.

But he doesn’t.

He doesn’t.

He —

He watches Cal with his arm over Vera’s shoulder — holding her close, pressing his mouth into her hair more a gesture of comfort than a kiss. To remind her the warmth of another body is close. That she isn’t alone.

A bright light flashes in front of his eyes, blinds him. Taylor tries to pull back but the EMT squeezes his shoulder and keeps him in place. “Not yet, bud, just try and follow the light okay?”

It doesn’t really make sense to keep staring at the thing that makes it harder to see but he does what he’s told. Follows the pen light left to right and up to down because that’s what they need of him right now.

“Your friends said you took a pretty hard hit.” He can feel the gloved hand on the back of his head feeling around for a lump, a cut, blood — anything.

Definitely more than the nothing he gets that’s for sure.

“Do you remember anything like that?”

No, he doesn’t. He only remembers silvery curls and an insistent understanding that he’s capable of more than he thinks. But those thoughts aren’t his.

It’s with reluctance that the EMT lets him jump from the back of the ambulance with the closest thing to a clear bill of health.

“Rook!”

Thank god he hears Nik only when there isn’t a stethoscope on his chest because surely his heart stops beating.

Taylor turns, doesn’t have the time to brace himself before he’s inhaling leather. Isn’t smothered by it at all — in fact it helps calm him more than expected.

Then Nik’s looking him over — touching the back of his head and holding up his arms; looking for cuts and bruises and any sign that he’s less than one hundred-percent okay. “Did you get checked out? Why the hell would they let you go? If they’d seen the way your head bounced off that concrete wall they’d be thinkin’ differently. Fuckin’ hell, they…” Just like the EMT he feels nothing, though. But this time Taylor isn’t let off the hook so easily.

“What the hell? There ain’t even a bump.”

“I hit my head?” he asks; realizes it’s the wrong thing to say when Nik’s eyes widen.

“You don’t remember? Shit — we’re gettin’ you to the hospital.”

“I don’t need a hospital.”

“I beg to differ!”

“If you’d —” Taylor actually has to smack the flurry of Nik’s concerned hands away, “— just stop for a sec’? Please!”

Even in the chaos of grief and seemingly fruitless attempts to restore order Taylor is loud. Manages to get more than a few heads turned his way — some that look between him and Nik in rising suspicion. He takes the man’s hand and pulls him off to the side before any of it becomes a thing.

They find the one police car without the overhead lights flashing. Away from the crowd swarming, from people who secretly wished they could be paid to learn what happened and grieve for it. Despite being entirely removed from the situation they are moths; the cruisers that bathe them in reds and blues are their flame.

Nik wastes no time. “You’re starting to scare me Taylor,” and he believes it with or without Nik using his name, “if somethin’ happened to you, somethin’ medical, we gotta —”

“Nik,” he insists again, “stop talking.” Cups his hands along a chiseled jaw and brings the man down to kiss him like that’ll explain everything. In a perfect world, maybe.

But even annoying as he’s being right now Taylor can’t hold it against him. He cares — in his own weird way sure — but he does.

They part for air but he allows strong hands to keep him close.

“I only just got back,” he mumbles almost breathlessly, “I don’t need you jumping down my throat.”

“Wait—what?”

“I —”

There’s a tickle on his forehead as Nik’s brow furrows. “No I heard ya. But you didn’ — we were here the whole —” Lucky for them both when, somewhere in the middle of those half-formed explanations and racing thoughts, he remembers that he’s Nik Ryder; Nighthunter.

“Got back from where?”

“Not here.”

“Yes, here.”

“Nik.”

Taylor would like to believe he relents because of trust, but knows the far more likely explanation is exhaustion. But he does and that’s what matters. “Okay Rook, okay. Your turn to call the shots.”

“First we need to get everyone together. I saw Vera and Cal, but…”

“Kathy an’ Cade were still givin’ statements last I checked. Iv’, Krom, and Garrus hightailed it before the cops showed up. Wait—you’re really sayin’ you don’t remember any of this?”

“Stay focused. Where’s Elric?”

“With them. He was out cold, hurt bad from the looks of it.”

Taylor’s heart straight-up stops beating. “Did the wraith —?”

“No Rook, no he, uh, he took a fallin’ rigging for you. Pushed you right outta the way and that’s how you hit your head. I really don’t like —”

“Later. We can’t go back to the Shift.”

“Well there we agree.”

“There’s my place, but —”

“No, nowhere connected to any of us. The Elders could’a hexed the place.”

“Suggestions, maybe?”

“Well damn Rook — not like I’ve got a map of secret warded places I can just pull outta my ass—actually…” Nik changes his tune so fast Taylor gets whiplash. But he knows the thoughtful look in those dark eyes well enough by now that he dares to have just a little bit of hope.

Why try?

Because I have hope.

By the time he’s pulled out of his brief recollection of The Fate, Nik is pulling him by the hand back into the crowd. They spot the beacon of Cadence’s towering head over everyone else and find the others still recuperating on the curb where he stands guard.

Cal spots Taylor and immediately tries to stand — but he’s leaning far too much to the right to be moving so fast. Katherine catches him, eases him back down with admonishing words.

“What did the EMT just say?”

“Yeah yeah, I ain’t a cub Kathy.”

“Then pay attention next time — to what they’re saying, not to their asses.”

Vera reaches for Taylor like a source of comfort. He takes her hand and squeezes; feels the warmth of her through blue medical latex in a way her usual silk doesn’t allow. Wordlessly she holds up a long scrap of familiar fabric as explanation.

Whatever Cadence had planned on saying, it catches on his tongue to be swallowed back down. Something makes his face turn away with a crinkle in his nose.

“No offense Taylor, but you smell like mold on vellum.”

“Huh?” Cal sniffs the air and comes to a similar conclusion. “Reminds me of the shed Kristof keeps his pelts in — like… dust and mothballs.”

“Uh…” what the hell does somebody say to that, “I’m sorry?”

“Just thought you ought to know.”

“Actually — speakin’ of all that research you do, Smith,” everyone looks at Nik like he’s grown a second head, but no one can match Cadence’s bewilderment; since that has less than nothing to do with the attack that’s left them reeling.

“What about it?”

“Any chance you know if the Saint Louis has still got that, uh, preservation sigil still in the stones?”

“Sure. That whole block of Chartres does.”

Katherine’s eyes narrow suspiciously. “Ryder, what are you thinking?” But he ignores her carelessly.

“Includin’ your office?”

“Yes but — Oh.” Epiphany crosses his face and makes his glasses slide down to the tip of his nose.

And though it may be just as annoying to be on the outs of something Nik, Cadence, and even Katherine with her slow nod of understanding seem to know that the rest don’t — there’s a comfort to it. Like they’re all back in the Shift shotgunning ideas on a chalkboard and not scrambling for a place to hide.

“I hadn’t thought of that,” the way Katherine says it though — it’s like a self-directed insult, “why didn’t I think of that?”

“Think we’ll all fit?” asks Nik.

Cadence gives everyone a calculating look, seemingly taking measurements. “I don’t see why not, so long as you don’t mind a bit of clutter.”

Kathy doesn’t even bother covering her snort, the derisive “Ha!” that earns her something like the vampire version of a pout. She remains unfazed. “That’s putting it a little more than lightly…”

“It’s not that bad. You’re making me out to be a hoarder.”

“Let’s just hope no one’s claustrophobic.”

“Kathy!”

Admittedly Taylor doesn’t know a lot about vampires besides the basics; immortal, super fast, super strong, blood-is-life. But there’s more, isn’t there? There has to be.

For example — werewolves are pack animals. He can guess that vampires are less so. So what fills the void?

Because from what he’s seeing before him… they’re nesting creatures.

This is a nest, right? Please someone say this is a nest, that this is normal behavior. That somewhere else in the city Isadora de la Rosa is just chilling in a giant pile of stuff like some sultry dragoness and Cadence is just following some sort of undead instinct.

Otherwise this guy needs help. Like — Hoarders-level help.

Ryder’s reaction does nothing to ease his discomfort; giving an impressed nod as his eyes sweep the room; the piles… and piles… and piles…

“You’ve cleaned up,” he moves an old filing box with little ceremony to rustle himself up a place to sit; apparently its every butt for itself here, “and is that two walls I can see?”

There are two seats not actively serving as storage and Katherine beelines for it. Cal gets there first with some semblance of victory — though it’s short-lived.

“You’re in my spot.”

“Grow up. First come first serve.”

She repeats herself in an actual growl. “You’re in my spot, Lowell.”

Arms crossed over his chest, he snorts a derisive “I don’t see your name on it,” only to fumble for purchase when she grabs the chair-back with both hands and spins it around.

Her name actually is written on the back. And in very large, blocky permanent marker.

She doesn’t need to tell him a third time. Settles in like it didn’t even happen. Out of everyone gathered, Cadence included, she’s the only one who looks like she really belongs.

“Three guesses why that is.” She says to Nik. It doesn’t take the man long to connect the dots.

“I’d’ve given some money to catch a glimpse of spit-shined Raines in this disaster.”

“Enough!” The vampire groans; finishes clearing up the last of what appears to be an outdoor patio table for the rest of them to prop against. “Unless by some miracle my—admittedly disorganized—attempt at scouring centuries’ worth of documentation in my so-far fruitless pursuit of an identity is the key to vanquishing the threat at hand.

“If so then by all means, continue on!”

It doesn’t help that the awkward silence is broken only when a towering stack of loose papers slides passed the tipping point and collapses somewhere unseen.

“Fuck.”

He accepts his defeat and takes up the chair beside Kathy with a surprising amount of dignity.

But his tirade served more than just a single purpose. It reminds Taylor of why they had to find somewhere to regroup, why it had been necessary in the first place.

You already know how, The Fate had said. And with a surety that had blurred the boundaries of whatever reality they had been in while talking outside of time and space.

Cadence’s mess isn’t the answer.

But someone not-Taylor in the room just might be.

“Vera…”

You already know. And the first thing he sees when he comes back to himself is Vera crying on the curb. That’s not a coincidence. In fact he feels a sharp, almost icy clarity when his train of thought switches tracks.

When he remembers the last time she cried and knows — just knows — that everything going forward isn’t random chance. It’s all meant to be.

Wordlessly they clasp hands. If before they were only doing this together and for Kristin, the same can’t be said now.

Taylor begins with a soft “I’m sorry,” because what he’s going to ask her is hard but there’s no way around it; he tries to be kind because she deserves that much at the very least, “but I’m gonna need you to tell me… tell us, I guess… what exactly you meant when you said you, uh, recognized the bloodwraith.”

Where’s a falling stack of papers when you need one?

Directly following another attack isn’t the best time to ask something that heavy. Everyone’s thinking it, but either lacks the guts or has enough brains not to speak it aloud.

The longer they wait the less time they have. If their minutes in the hourglass aren’t borrowed already.

Taylor can’t imagine the amount of courage it takes for her to share. She’d already been one sneeze away from “no no never mind, I don’t wanna bother you with it, let it go please; for me” back in the apartment. He recalls a brief flash of relief when they were interrupted. Though that didn’t last long given the news.

He’s there, you know, if she wants a hand to hold. Hesitates that hand over her shoulder as he watches the woman close in on herself… and lets it fall.

By the time she’s ready Cadence has ducked out and returns with a tray of water glasses and steaming mugs of fragrant teas. Three sleeves of soda crackers once abandoned are now their equivalent of a replenishing snack after a long journey.

All of it a little too mundane for the conversation at hand.

Vera gives herself a few shaky breaths — and begins.

“You ever been to one’a those big family reunions; the kind where you don’t know more than half’a the people showin’ up but it’s a birthday or a funeral or the like and you don’t really have a say in the matter?”

Literal crickets.

Even when she looks at Cal for backup he shakes his head and offers a shrug as an apology. “The Pack may be big but we’re tight. It’s impossible not to know someone, even if it ain’t a face but a scent.”

“But we can imagine.” Katherine makes a ‘continue’ gesture without bothering to mask the haste. “Keep going.”

Vera does.

“You’re wrong there, Kathy. No’ne who ain’t born a Reimonenq can really get what happens when you get more than a dozen’a us in the same room. All with the same blood in our veins but any opportunity to marry out the family, to change the name with somethin’ more bindin’ than just a court order — they take it.

“Last one I went to was ma Mémé’s funeral. Nawlins funerals, you know how they are —” only this time Taylor’s the sole sore thumb but no one stops to explain, “— and since she ran the Reimonenq Clan everyone who once carried the name or could have done was bound by duty to attend.”

Wistful memory clouds her eyes for a long moment. Whatever memory it is can’t be a happy one, not by the tick in her brow. “Met my uncle for the first time there. I didn’ even know Momma had any siblings — and here come up walkin’ two. They could’a been any random strangers on the street but they were huggin’ me and tellin’ me about seein’ me as a baby and…”

Katherine makes a not-so-subtle noise and shifts in her chair until it squeaks loud enough for Cal to flinch. It’s her chair, bears her name. She knows exactly what she’s doing.

Before she can say anything Cadence tactfully intervenes.

“So sorry about that; the chair drowned Kathy out. I could be wrong — but I think she was about to ask the relevance of this story and the wraith.”

Vera nods with a startling lack of apology. “If I could skirt around it I would. But every way I’ve thought about… about how I felt when I looked it in the eyes? This is the only way I can make it make sense.”

“It’s okay Vee,” says Taylor, “say what you have to.” And if he doesn’t mind her taking her time because it gets him a better chance of reading her inside, of understanding not just the words on her lips but the ones on her soul, he definitely isn’t going to mention it.

“I could see that they were my blood. Hell they were the spittin’ image of Ton—of Momma before she took over ma Mémé’s operations. The shady… smoky kind. But I didn’t know ‘em. I was five weeks away from my move to New York—I didn’t want to know ‘em.”

“Did they have the…?” She looks at Ryder sharply, watches him mime his hands without rhyme or reason. Her nostrils flare in anger.

“No. Turns out the Reimonenq Curse is a picky lit’le thing; picks the first born — or the only born, in my case. I got why she didn’t keep in contact when I found that out.

“I didn’ know why it bugged me s’a much until later. ‘Cause I just couldn’t give rhyme or reason to how I could see so much’a myself in stranger’s eyes.”

A hush falls over the group. Within it — an understanding. No longer with the need to ask Vera to tie her story together because she’s actually a lot more intuitive than even Taylor previously gave her credit for.

And now those tears of hers — always justified, always — they’re more than that. They’re understood.

Vera had looked into the eyes of the bloodwraith. What she had seen was far worse than simple familiarity.

She’d seen a part of herself in the rotting void of its skull. Recognized something hereditary in scraps of rotting flesh stuck in the gaps between its mouthful of fanged teeth.

And she’s still fucking standing, she’s still sane?

Not that there was any competition but Vera Reimonenq was definitely just crowned the strongest of them all in a landslide victory.

She gives them each individual looks. As if daring any of them to try and play Devil’s advocate. But why would they? You don’t fake something that soul-crushingly awful.

“There’s more.”

Cal kicks back on the floor with a groan. “Any chance there isn’t?” He’s the only one who could get away with it though.

“I wish that were the case. I’d been tryin’ to find the right time to bring it up — turns out it just needed to be brought up for me.”

I’m sorry, says way Taylor pulls her in for a one-armed hug.

It ain’t your fault, replies the last weary quirk of her lips.

“I ain’t the only one.”

“Tonya,” supplies Cadence, and Vera’s wobbling bottom lip breaks all their hearts in unison.

“Yeah—Yeah Momma she… she felt it too. I could see it in her eyes. She won’t spare it a thought but I don’ believe in coincidences anymore. She an’ I both feelin’ the way we did, then that thing’s touch takin’ away her Curse —”

“Mary Mother of Christ!”

The vampire stands so fast his chair goes flying into a stack of boxes — lucky for them all whatever contents are heavy enough to stay standing.

At first Katherine looks worried beside him, though it dulls quickly into exasperation. “Folks and faes I give you the Drama King…”

“Not the bloody time.” The look in those ruby eyes is almost manic — just like they had been when Cade had tried infodumping on them at the Shift. Only this might be slightly more relevant — hopefully.

“Care to share?” Cal drawls.

Cadence pays him no mind; focuses only on Vera and gets her attention in turn. There’s almost anticipation in the way he whispers, “You figured it out, didn’t you?”

“Well I wasn’t sure — not until now. You knew him?”

“I had the misfortune.”

“And you were… around when the Coven retaliated.”

“Like I said,” he wipes the lenses of his glasses with such convenient timing he could only be avoiding meeting her eyes, “I had the misfortune.”

It isn’t long after that they realize no one else is even close to catching up to them. A silent back and forth emerges Cadence as the lucky soul burdened with explanation.

“We’ve been so focused on the what of the bloodwraith,” there’s no possible way he knows what stack to dig through, it has to be a diversion to remove himself from the heart of the matter; doesn’t stop him from nudging Nik aside and rifling through an open filing cabinet, “what it is, what it seeks, what it can do.”

Nik grumbles at Taylor’s side. “And that ain’t important?”

“No no — it is. But it… it gave us tunnel vision. Made us docile; we stopped asking questions. Aha —”

Cadence pries free a packet; the contents of which Taylor can’t see even if he squints.

But the text must not matter because he focuses instead on a carefully cut newspaper article attached to the front. The same old paper as his news spread on the war — ink the same faded black.

He can barely look at it, though. Offers it to Kathy’s awaiting hand. “The fire was too great not to make the paper. Carlo personally ensured the cause of the blaze was covered up but no one could keep the deaths quiet. The city only knew three young women perished — not that they were the Garden Coven’s newest blooded witches. And because that fact needed to be concealed at all costs… there were no consequences for him to face.”

“For who to face?” Taylor’s afraid to ask but someone’s gotta do it.

Vera’s voice cracks when she answers.

“My ancestor — Derek Reimonenq. The Bloody Hand.”

“And the tortured soul the Coven used to bind the bloodwraith to this world.”

[romera-rp]

Master cartographer Malley Urione claimed that on every single map he has, which is a considerable number given his profession, a town called Dasratsel has appeared. He’s asked his recent clients to check their own maps and, like his, there is a town. A town he’s never seen. A town that does not exist and should not exist that has simply appeared. Well, on the maps at least, no one, especially not the elderly Malley, has gone to check explore it yet. He has brought this information to General Jesrina Druulack and the other members of the Council and to his surprise, and relief, they reacted with terror. They rushed to check their own maps and as Malley expected, the grand maps in their war rooms, the maps of their soldiers and followers, and even the small, toy maps that special edition King Rolland action figures carry had Dasratsel marked as a town just south of Arx. The Council has heard of Dasratsel before and has despised and feared it for months. Now that it’s here, they’re helpless to stop its wrath. All General Druulack can do, as she has been for the last several weeks, is to warn the people of Hegaehend. Now that the threat is imminent, she’ll finally reveal all that the Council knows.

Below, as she promised, General Druulack has compiled a timeline of the Council’s discoveries about the rampant disappearances and their discovery of Dasratsel:

“Loyal citizens of Haeghend, I come to you with a warning and a promise. Perhaps you have noticed the lists the Council has posted over the last few weeks of those who were snatched from our midst. They have yet to be recovered. However, we now have more information as to the culprit of these kidnappings and his name is Rieman Yuello.

As you read on, you will learn of a town called Dasratsel, a place we believe is linked to these disappearances and this vile criminal. We beseech each and every one of you to not approach this town. Those residing near it are advised to evacuate and the military will aid in this endeavour. 

The Council has put together a team of trained beings, all who hold the King’s trust, to enter at their own risk and investigate. We don’t know what they will find there. We hope they will return. We promise you, however, that we will protect you as best we are able. 

General Druulack.”

On August 7th, 3508, another concerned citizen, a military researcher named Aimee Nullroy, came to the Council with a list of names gripped shakily in her hands. She reveals that through her genealogical mapping of military families, she discovered dozens of unexplainable disappearances of soldiers. They hadn’t been captured, hadn’t been cut down in battle, and hadn’t defected, instead they vanished. She found instances of this, sometimes multiple times in a single family, throughout multiple wars. This strange discovery led her to track the same kind of disappearances through recent public records and she found dozens of missing civilians as well. Over the last season alone, at least forty people had disappeared without apparent motive or means. 

At first the Council believed these disappearances to be due to the nature of the war, but by interviewing loved ones and those who witnessed the disappearances, as well as reviewing Aimee’s research, their theory was proven wrong. All across Hegaehend, and presumably the other three countries, people have vanished. From one breath to the next, in the blink of an eye, in the time it takes a speck of dust to turn in the air, people would vanish. From busy market places, from bars surrounded by friends, from their own beds, people were snatched without a whisper. 

The Council knew only one thing: no one was safe. 

With the Council’s support, Aimee began searching through old archives and files, enlisting the help of Hegaehend’s best scholars and universities. They uncovered hundreds of instances, stretching back a thousand years, of a mysterious town called Dasratsel. One journal in particular proved the most helpful. Written in 3134 by a man named Neal Lorieyum, it explained that every so often, sometimes every two or three years and sometimes every few decades, a town appeared in a random location on the continent. A mark of its existence graces every single map for however long it’s there. The style of notation and writing matching the particular map as if it had been placed there by the original map maker. Then, without a trace, the town vanishes. If the location were visited after its disappearance, the visitor would find no mark or indication that there had ever been a civilization there at all. Likewise, all evidence of Dasratsel vanishes from the maps. In Neal’s time, Dasratsel appeared in Kaivras for seven weeks and ten years later appeared in the heart of Khaggon, the city streets, less bustling four-hundred years ago than they are now, were forced to warp and curve around the town borders. Neal wrote of a brave soul who entered the town and came back talking about ashes and a librarian named Eilla. Apparently this man had gone with his brother, but the brother wanted to stay behind to investigate the tavern further. The town disappeared before the brother returned and the brother has never been seen again. 

By August the Council had fully realized the severity of this blight. Everyday they uncovered more information on those that had disappeared, but information on the town itself remained elusive besides what they learned from Neal’s journal. Its as if all other records, if they ever existed, have vanished alongside the citizens. They had a long, long list of names of all those they knew of who had been taken. General Druulack decided that the citizens deserved to know what was happening under their very noses and so, with the help of Aimee, General Druulack composed the first of September’s missing persons warnings. They were those they had the most concrete information on as well as those the young researcher believed to be the most recognizable of the lot. Essentially, the first list was who Aimee thought had been missed the most. She helped choose the next list as well as the latest list.

IN CHARACTER DETAILS

This event will take place October 12th to November 9th. Your threads may take place anywhere inside and outside of Dasratsel and your Pumpkin Days threads and any non-event related threads may continue throughout this event. Both Dasratsel and Pumpkin Days threads should come to a close come November 9th. 

TOWN LOCATIONS OF INTEREST 

The Clock Tower

The clock tower can be seen from any place inside the town. It reaches up like a needle, thin and pointed at the top and making it seem far taller than its near 50 feet in height. There are clock faces on each of the four sides of the tower, though each one appears to tell a different time. Paying close attention, one might catch the hands moving backwards or twitching in place. If one were to comment to a local of the town on such a strange occurrence, they would appear confused, and read the correct time from the clock very simply. Any clocks or watches brought into the town will stop. There are no doors or apparent entryways into the clock tower, but at midnight each night, for one hour, all the clocks stop. Their white faces glow faintly like four moons, though some have reported that instead they look like eyes. 

The Theater

A building that might have been grand once, large and imposing in its size at the center of the patchwork town. A rusted and worn plaque just beside the double door entrance calls this place the local theater, and it looks as if it has lived through countless tragedies that go well beyond the stage that lies at its center. There are signs of scorch marks around the base of the building and on some of the rows of seats inside as if there have been several fires that have tried to destroy this place. Yet in other areas, the wood paneling seems water damaged and warped, and the smell of faint sea air can be noticed. The marquee above the entrance is cracked in half, as if something impossibly big was thrown at it, but the words upon it are still legible. They look like they have never been moved or changed. It advertises: “The Reign Of The Puppet King, Every 16th On The Seventh Evening Bell.” Asking around, the locals will explain that every month on the 16th, there is a show, the same one each time. The actors are all from the town, though they don’t remember auditioning. They say that there is a reserved, private box seat that no one has ever been inside, but that every month when the show starts, the actors can see a figure sitting there. The reservation is under the name Rieman Yuello.

The Library

The library is a building not many of the townsfolk talk about or visit. It lays on the edge of town and at first glance it appears to be tilted ever so slightly on its side. On closer inspection, it becomes clear that the library is sinking into the ground very slowly, although the ground beneath it is no more muddy or porous than the rest of the town. Inside, the bookcases have all slid to one side and are resting against each other, making some impossible to reach without substantial strength. There is a librarian who lives there who, when asked, gives her name as Eilla Alloramir. She is a middle aged elven woman with a shock of white hair piled up in a messy bun on her head and sad, tired eyes. She will ask anyone who enters the library for a donation to its collection, but if she is given a book it will crumble to dust in her hands and she will begin to laugh as if she has heard this joke before, though she will say no more on the subject if asked and only thank the patron for their contribution. If any of the books on the shelves are reachable, and still legible, they will reveal the different times and locations that Dasratsel has appeared. These are the lost records of the town, stolen from Romera and left to molder under the supervision of Eilla.

The Reason’s Piece

There is only one tavern or inn in Dasratsel and it very rarely ever sees much business in the way of guests, though never seems to be in any danger of closing or running out of ale to provide. Nearly every night a large group of people from the town flock towards The Reason’s Piece to celebrate another day’s end. The joviality and merriment of the town are it its peak at these times, though a particularly insightful person might see the sweat on the brows of the townspeople as they dance and laugh and take it for nervousness. They might see the way their eyes flick to the windows every now and then, as if to see if they are being watched, and as if they hope whoever it is staring back is pleased with what they see. Turning towards the bar, there is another peculiar sight. Thousands upon thousands of tally marks in neat straight lines. They cover the entirety of the bar and the wall and floor behind it too, marking shelves where the mugs and glasses are stacked. Asking the bartender and owner of the tavern, Onius Innern, he will tell you they represent every day The Reason’s Piece has been open. Any logical person would know this can’t be possible. With the sheer number of tally marks, the bar, and it’s human owner, would be decrepit and falling apart if that were true.  

The Apothecary

If asked about the local apothecary, townsfolk will look down and point in the direction of a building that is no more than ash and the skeletal framework of what it used to be. There are no signs that a fire touched any of the surrounding homes, but this one has clearly been consumed by one. At noon each day a halfling man will appear and sift through the ash for exactly an hour before disappearing back to wherever he came from. If asked what he is looking for, he will say he lost a locket his wife gave him when he escaped from the fire. He will say that it has a small portrait of her inside and he needs it back. On a detailed investigation of the ruined apothecary, the locket can be found, but upon opening it there is nothing inside except more ash. The halfling man will have no reaction except to say, “If only I could remember.” He will appear again at the same time the next day to search, with no memory of prior events. 

The Manor

A manor, grand and empty, sits somewhat apart from the rest of the town. A dwarf stands guard by the door, his hand held stiffly in front of him as if holding up a spear or flagpole, but his hand is empty. If he’s asked his name, he will stare ahead and the only thing he will say is “Sir Ollint Elstaff, loyal to… loyal to…” and will repeat the last two words over, and over, and over. Though richly decorated, the manor is considerably smaller than those seen in Khaggon or Itresa. However, if one ventures inside, the innards wind and stretch on seemingly for miles and miles. Inside, people of all creeds wander aimlessly from room to room. A young human clutching an ornate pitcher of stale wine to her chest walks in endless circuits around one of the many ballrooms. Her name is Mapel Simsees and she insists that she’s late for work and that there should be party music playing. To those with a discerning eye, they’ll be able to notice that many of the portraits on the walls feature the citizens of the town. Many of them have a long, knobby-knuckled, white hand clasping their elbows, resting on their knees, or caressing their shoulders. Some of their eyes follow anyone who wanders past. Some of them don’t. In some of the rooms are mirrors and just mirrors. Some of them will show dreams, others nightmares, and some are just mirrors. Some of the doorways instill an awful fear and pain in whomever walks through them, other instill nausea or rage, but the effect only lasts for as long as the doorway is occupied. Only some of the doorways are like this. If the manor is invaded too much, if its deeper halls are invaded, a baby crying will be audible. If wandered into far, far too much, the crying will stop. Don’t go towards the crying. 

The Fountain

In the middle of town, right in front of the theater, there’s a lovely square. Garden beds filled with flowers that should not grow in this area flourish and vines of stinging thorns flood out onto the pathways. The paths meander this way and that through the lush grass and benches line the outskirts and mark the roadside. In the center is a large and ornate fountain. Two stone beings of indiscriminate gender draped in luxurious robes and each holding a jug are the centerpiece. Never ending streams of water flow out of the jugs and into the depthless fountain. Something about the water is so tempting. Something draws passerby to come and look into it, their hands outstretched, but many manage to shake free of this temptation and flee back to their daily toils. All the citizens of Dasratsel will order every to not touch the fountain water. Once touched, it will drag the toucher into its depths. Down, down, down until there’s no light and stone hands and stone claws reach up to greet you, to welcome you. Spend too long in the water and you’ll drown into stone. 

IN CHARACTER DETAILS

You’ll find everything normally found in a town here in Dasratsel. However, the buildings will be in all different architectural styles from every race, region, and time period in Romera. Horse drawn carts will pass you, stray dogs and cats will race across streets, and people will go about their business as usual. Guards will patrol the streets, but their garb, like the buildings, come from all times and all places. 

If questioned, no resident will know of anything going on outside of the town. Each individual will give you a different year and date, but they’ll all be able to tell you the correct time. Unless very recently taken, no citizen will be able to tell you who is ruling or what has occurred recently. 

Everything feels, looks, smells, and sounds perfectly real. There is no illusion as far as you can tell. 

If persuaded well enough, citizens may express confusion or become alarmed. They may even claim that they’re lost or ask for help finding their way, but the next moment it will fade and they’ll return to their passive, content, and normal selves. 

If you are in possession of a map of the area, yours will also show the town of Dasratsel.

If you are in possession of a clock or a watch, the time will stop for the duration of your visit to Dasratsel, but you can always ask someone who lives there for the correct time. The watch will start back up and spin to the correct time the moment you leave the boundary of the town. 

OOC DETAILS

While hints of Rieman Yuello will be found throughout town, you won’t be able to find him. 

Any of the kidnapped characters who are listed on the last missing persons will be unable to leave the town. If they attempt it, they will simply disappear and reappear someplace random in the town like they did when they were first kidnapped. 

Any citizens who are forced out of the town will also disappear and reappear back in the town with no memory of it having happened. 

All other characters may come and go as they please throughout the event. 

The town is protected against divination magic. This means that no sending stones will receive or send messages through the town border and nothing within the town can be scryed on. Likewise, no one within the town can scry for anything outside of the town. Both sending stones and scrying will work if both stones and the scryer and what is being scried for is within the town. 

Remember to tag your posts with “romevent” and “Welcome to Dasratsel.”

THREAD IDEAS

Attend the October 16th showing of “The Reign Of The Puppet King” at the theater.

Enter the endlessly cavernous manor and investigate the many oddities it holds. 

Perhaps you’re someone sent into the town by General Druulack or through a bounty set by a loved one who was taken. Maybe your loved one was taken.

Visit The Reason’s Piece for a drink and a night of dancing. Talk to the townspeople, dance with the townspeople, become the townspeople. If necessary, spend the night in the inn and listen to the sounds of the night. 

Try and lure, or force, a citizen out of the town’s borders. 

Search through the ashes of the apothecary either in search of something useful or at the behest of the mournful halfling.

Take the released list of missing persons and try and locate them all. Sir Ollint by the manor, Eilla in the library, Lorcan Tincolnalyn in the fountain, Mapel Simsees in the manor, etc.

When you found out about Daratsel and the missing people, what did you do immediately after? Travel to the town and enter it for the first time.

Try and escape if you were taken.

[juleswolverton-hyde]

Hold the door (BC x Reader)

Genre: Fluff

Pairing: Bangchan x Reader

Warning: Spoilers for GoT S4 & S6 E5

Summary: Fantasy can be brutal yet be addicting after a long day of work. Fortunately, a dearly loved kangaroo knows how to lessen the pain of the politics of Westeros.

Author’s Note: Top o’ the morning!

This is my first piece for Stray Kids since they are slowly taking over my life and especially Chris (Bangchan). Hopefully, despite this being not BTS-related for once, it is still an enjoyable read.

For any Stays reading this and who are not acquainted with my works as of yet: I hope I do not disappoint.

Masterlist

A good story evokes emotions with its imagery and plot line, even more so when actors play out the scenes which are craftily adapted to a visual new format despite being written first in ink. The series ‘’Game of Thrones’’ is a splendid example of what might happen in a scenario in which the story hits harder than expected, beloved characters dying left and right while the audience can merely look on in horror.

Or cheer in delight in Joffrey’s case.

The day at work at the café in the centre of town had been hazardous, the arrival of spring break ensuring lots of tourists to come in to taste and photograph the seasonal specials while enjoying the gradually becoming warmer sunny weather. The entire shift literally consisted of creating soft sweet sakura custard buns and sweet lush green mochis decorated with a rice dough cherry blossom and petals, slicing up the slightly floral cheesecake with a pink inside that had to be remade perhaps four to five times due to the high demand. Not to speak of the effort to deliver with making the time-consuming coffees and hot or cold cocoas befitting the abundant fall of sakura around the village. However, such are the duties of being part of the already small team: each person has to be able to work all-round when this time of the year comes despite there not being too much patronage otherwise since the city is not that big nor well-known.

But every exhausting shift makes a mini-marathon in the evening of the new season of ‘’Game of Thrones’’ all the more deserved, simply sitting back on the comfortable creme-coloured love seat with a cup of freshly prepared ice coffee and either a tub of cookies and cream ice cream or a protein bar in the same flavour. Fortunately, it is not minded by the boyfriend of one and a half years since the blonde athletic boy can mostly be found at the gym in the evenings when not hanging out with friends.

Nonetheless, Chris’s absence is more of a curse since the first episode of the night has a grander impact on the psyche than expected, making a firm hug that is mostly tried to be escaped from under normal circumstances now dearly desired. Too many impactful emotional events follow each other up at the end of the sixth season’s fifth episode, triggering the rare reaction of tears in eyes that can merely watch and a palm wrapped over a speechless mouth.

The response is even powerful enough to miss the click of the front door of the shared apartment and the dull thump of the ashen buffalo bag filled with sports gear in the tiny entryway leading to the studio, much less so the giggle following the habitual greeting of “I’m home, babygirl”, which is still awkward despite the many times it has been uttered.

‘Hey, Y/N, are you, wait, are you crying?’ As soon as the credits roll over the screen and the DVD is paused, fingers unclasp from paralyzed lips to wipe away the watery traces of the damage done by mere yet gripping fantasy which stirs the youth to rush over to the couch and rapidly take place on the empty spot formerly occupied by bare feet, making a sorrowful being bounce slightly with the impact of the sudden additional weight. Firm veiny arms are immediately clung onto when they initiate an unbreakable embrace, one slender hand placed protectively on the top of the head, cradling it against the shoulder. ‘What happened?’

No answer comes per direct, first throwing out every bit of frustration thanks to fantastical explicit cruelty while holding on to an oversized sweat-soaked onyx shirt but not minding the hint of sourness to the characteristic scent of minty soap. The golden-haired lad resembling a kangaroo when fired up with energy has taken on the tranquil appearance of a koala, its counterpart, and simply waits patiently until the incoherent blabbering attempts at voicing a reason for the silly behaviour gain a sense of logic. Simultaneously, the left upper arm is being rubbed in uncomprehending close solace, chin resting on the crown of the head when not giving soft caring forehead kisses and whispering soothing nothings.

At last, after a good while of crying, it is dared to look Chris in the eye to tell what forms the reason for the curious distress. Nevertheless, it is an obvious fact the thumb caressing the cheek while explaining forms one of the support pillars which keeps speech steadier than it would be without. ‘Geo- George R.R. Martin is a bastard. He- He let Bran’s wolf be killed by Whitewalkers and- and... Hodor...’ A heavy sob. ‘M- mea- means “ho- hold the door”...’

The very vivid thought about the death of the kind giant at the door arises, initiating a continuation of the lament created by a splendid bastard of an author’s writing. The hug tightens, a rumble in the trained chest beneath the slick flowy fabric resulting in an adorable chuckle as tears stream down a pale neck. ‘You take it way too seriously, Y/N. It’s just a story. Nobody’s actually dead, everything is fine.’

‘Shut up, Chris, you do- don’t know what power George has.’ It is incredible how ‘’Game of Thrones’’ has escaped the attention of the Australian platinum youth, but at the same time places him in a disposition of ignorance about how sensitive talk about the show can be. Certainly for long-time viewers who have likely seen their favourites be brutally murdered in favour of plot progression.

‘No, I don’t, but how about you show me and I’ll try to protect you from it?’ Hazel irises light up at the prospect at one of the most loved things aside from the steady relationship with a girl who gets carried away into fantasy too often and, judging by the broad smirk that begins to form, the continuation of the proposal is nothing surprising yet deliciously loving. ‘With food?’

‘Tha- That’s your solution to ev- everything, isn’t it?’ A careful curl of the corners of the mouth forms out of the sorrowful expression at seeing the genuine giddiness at a second dinner or, rather, late night snack together. Although, it also arises out of the vivid images quickly flashing by of the personified koala’s silly movements whenever something tastes incredible, the funny habit always a cause for affectionate laughter and a source of confidence in the at times doubtful personal cooking skill.

‘It always makes you smile,’ a stray strand is tucked behind the ear, plush roseate lips placing a sweet kiss on the forehead, ‘I’ll first take a shower and then prepare some tteokbokki. How about that?’

Unconsciously, a consenting eager nod is already given before the reaction can be even thought about, the stomach having overtaken demeanour out of anticipation of the small rice cakes. ‘Extra spicy?’

A slight nervousness slips into attitude, eyes holding a silent plead for toning down on the spice levels because the last time they were too high for most to handle, Cris’s friends who came over for the monthly movie night all frantically reaching for cucumber and milk to nullify the impact while trying to save the fellow Australian of the group at the same time. Withal, howbeit while clearly contemplating to adjust the amount of gochujang regardless of the request, the proposal is agreed to. ‘Sure, extra spicy it is. Now, don’t you dare continue in the meanwhile or I won’t cuddle you for the rest of the week.’

A sceptic roll of the eyes, finding no credibility in the statement considering the personality of the speaker. ‘Oh, come on, we both know that’s an empty threat.’

The slightly loosened embrace tightens to a literally breathtaking degree once more, but now it is tried to be escaped as is normally the case when the blonde youth tends to get cheesily clinging. ‘Or I hug you to death, your choice.’

‘Let me go!’ Any type of resistance results in the opposite, becoming more and more the prisoner of secure loving arms instead of a free woman. Notwithstanding, it cannot be said it is minded, though the rumbling in the stomach betrays the recently realized craving for food that can only be had when giving in.

‘Not before you answer.’ The heavy weight suddenly tipping the scales cannot be prevented from being the oppressor of the strength that is unable to lift it, head hitting the soft pillows of the sofa on the other end as the sporty lad with dewy skin maintains the firm hug. A delighted playful chuckle sounds at the realization of having the held figure exactly where she is apparently wanted, unable to be freed before having made a decision. ‘Well, what’s it gonna be?’

‘Either way, you’ll suffer. Option one leaves me alive but you’ll get cuddle withdrawal symptoms. Option two leaves you without your favourite squishy.’ An eyebrow rises in challenging mockery which will only worsen the circumstances though the sarcasm cannot be helped. Just as in the brutal series, if you play smart, you shall survive. And this preferred victim of affection, this most beloved fighter of clinging hugs, has plans to survive the night.

‘Aren’t you clever, turning my own words against me?’ A lopsided smirk forms on the koala boy’s face, eyes illuminated by playful lights.

‘In the Game of Thrones, you live or you die and I intend to do the former.’ Henceforth, a cute sweetness slips into speech as lips irresistibly pout, manipulating Chris even further into hurrying up in fulfilling the promise of tteokbokki and stop stalling the rest of the well-deserved marathon. ‘I’m hungry.’

Blonde locks bow in amused defeat, shaking briefly with acknowledged surrender before gazes lock again. ‘I have no idea what that reference means, but you win this time, Y/N. Can’t let my babygirl starve.’

The characteristic awkward laughter accompanying the nickname by default ends the topic of debate, the kangaroo boyfriend lifting himself off a half-crushed no longer entirely torn by fantasy figure to finally shower. In the absence filled with the lingering traces of songs sung with an angelic voice, more pillows and a thin ornately decorated blanket are gathered for properly snuggling up with delicious food and an amazing but heartbreaking brutal show.

Sweater paws clad in a soapy mint oversized sweater wrap around the platinum youth’s waist to give him a taste of his own medicine, trying to show how inconvenient it can be when a person is basically glued to you during household tasks, which lets them become increasingly more complicated due to the loving gesture. Withal, it does not have the intended effect as the young man manages to get along with making the rice cakes coated in a fierce red sauce just fine although it does pose a bit of a risk when a small hand reaches out for the gochujang tub to add more to the sauce and the chef obviously not consenting to this idea, the dispute resulting in play fighting that almost turns the fire pit open too far without further notice.

The tickling almost results in burns and burned clothing, the just as touchy retribution barely short of ending in a trail of sauce stains leading from the kitchen floor to the fake black leather loveseat thanks to fingertips poking sides. Regardless, it is managed to be reached without further ado, the cruelly incredible series resuming with one strong arm wrapped around the shoulders, a warm meal split in two put into two laps sitting side by side. Occasionally, a chewy tteok is fed with a content smile from the bigger portion of the athlete eating like a starved man, who is evidently as happy with the result of the obstructed cooking as the appreciating look in the eyes of the accepting mouth, going by the happy wiggles accompanied by tuneful hums.

And thus the imaginary intriguing political game synonymous to crimson onslaught continues, because the questioning, at times shocked, comments made out of ignorance brighten the mood due to their silent request for an explanation, delighting the nerdy fangirl within to no end.

Keeping the worst of silly emotions at bay.

Holding the door.

[ontherockswithsalt]

OHMYGOODNESS THE FLUFF! I have no idea where this came from but I needed to write these boys being soft before I jump back into AMM and continue the depravity. Sooo.. enjoy this little treat about somewhere-in-the-not-so-distant-future Joble. 

“Damn, I can't believe you guys closed.”

“I was down to stay open,” Noble calls out from the living room. “But I had no staff once they called off schools and half the city buses weren’t running.”

“Yeah, that’s true.” There in the entryway, I pull off my coat, the snowflakes that covered it finally melting away, and unlace my boots. I’d managed to stomp off the slush down in the lobby of our apartment and up the flight of stairs.

Once I’ve shed all my wet outer layers, I make my way into the kitchen and he gets up to meet me.

“Hey,” he offers.

I exhale with a smile when I see him. “Hey.”

“I’m glad you’re home.” He tilts over to give me a kiss, then pulls away with a startled little moan. “Mm. Cold.”

“I know,” I murmur up at him, admittedly needy for a better kiss than that.

His lips touch mine one more time and the sensation helps warm the chill beneath my skin, especially when he grasps the sides of my face in his hands. Then he pulls away and scratches light fingertips in my hair. “Tired?”

“Yeah.” I deflate a little, glancing around the kitchen. I hadn’t expected to work almost fourteen hours, but once the much-hyped snow storm hit the city, it was all hands on deck and I stayed well past end of tour.

“I hit the store on the way home--” He informs me.

“Yes,” I exhale in relief and turn past him, squeezing loving fingers at his sides before I do.

“Like all those crazy people on the news. Only instead of bread, I raided the wine aisle.”

“Well sure,” I reason. “Those survival skills I fell in love with.”

His low chuckle makes me smile as I move to the cabinet for a water glass. “You have time to eat at work?”

“No.” I shake my head before I down a big gulp of ice water and start off in the other direction. “I’m gonna take a quick shower.”

“If I made creamy tortellini soup, would you eat it?” He calls after me.

I turn back to him, lifting hopeful eyebrows. “Uh yeah.”

“Twenty minutes. Go get your shower.”

Rumbling a spent but satisfied groan, I turn toward the bedroom. “You’re the man of my dreams, you know!” I announce as I go.

“I try!”

***

After a hot shower, and a change into loose grey sweatpants and a t-shirt, I make my way to the other side of the apartment and return to the kitchen. Nobles finishes up the quick dinner, but the television in the living room catches my attention.

“What… are you watching?” I wonder when I can’t ignore the din of howling women, strobe lights and fog across the screen.

“Oh dude.” He glances up and across the room. “It’s Magic Mike.”

“What’s that?”

He laughs, stirring the soup before he turns to the cabinet for a bowl. “It’s a movie about male strippers. Have you never seen it?”

I give him a look and spread my hands as if the answer to that is obvious. “No, I’ve never seen it.”

“Thank you.” He points at me as if he was just validated. “See? I was talking to Luke the other day at work, and somehow we got on this topic of hot celebrities. And he was going on about Channing Tatum and how he'd let him do whatever to him--”

“Wait, who's that?” I stop him in confusion as he passes me my bowl of soup. I get myself a spoon and lead him toward the living room so I can eat it on the couch.

“That guy--” Noble follows, gesturing to the actor front and center on the screen with his shirt off.

“Okay…”

“So anyway. I told him I'd never seen the movie. And Channing Tatum didn't really do anything for me. And Luke gets all outraged about it like oh my god, you're kicked off the team. Are you sure you're not straight? And all that shit--”

“Wait.” I laugh. “So this movie is some like, gay rite of passage? A true test of your alliance? That seems pretty narrow.”

“I don't know, but apparently I'm not gay enough for him.” He shrugs.

I set my glass of water on the tray that sits on the ottoman and lean back. “You're gay enough for me, babe.”

“Thanks, babe.” He drops a hard palm with a squeeze on my thigh.

“So what, you decided you need to watch it?”

“I saw it was on,” he explains.

I have to shift my gaze to him, raising an arched eyebrow as I chew my food.

“It was!” He lifts defensive shoulders and I laugh at him. “But I can change it.”

I slink further down in the couch and push my feet against the ottoman, trailing my spoon through my soup. “No, I don't care.”

“I'm still kind of indifferent about him,” he notes.

Studying the actor on the screen, I manage a thoughtful side-to-side tilt of my head. “Yeah,” I mutter, unsure.

“Like if he was in regular clothes and you passed him on the street, would you look?”

I squint one eye and try to decide. “Is he ever in regular clothes in this movie?”

“I think so.”

“I could do without the costumes and props and shit,” I note. “Is that how these clubs operate? Where it’s like, themed dance routines? Do they really need umbrellas?”

“I think it… y’know, creates a whole--” Then Noble traces his hands in front of him. “Fantasy for the audience.”

“I'm not into that. Just fucking get naked.”

He laughs and then considers it. “I like it a little.”

Cutting my gaze to him again, I smirk. “I know you do.” Knowing how he gets about my uniform, I'm not surprised. “So what have I missed? What's it about?”

“Channing Tatum is Magic Mike. And he meets this dude and like, recruits him into the strip club world. And… I think that's pretty much it.”

I nod over another bite of spinach tortellini. “He's alright,” I decide, scrutinizing the character, the curves of a well-formed upper body the more he tears his clothes off. “I wouldn't say I'm indifferent. His teres are pretty sweet.”

A laugh rumbles in Noble’s chest. “That’s such a bro thing of you to say.”

I smile with a shake of my head. “Am I not gay enough for Luke either?”

“There’s plenty we could do in front of him to prove it, but I respect you too much.”

“You’re a keeper.”

Noble sits back beside me and we let a little more of the movie play out. “So this is the new stripper. They call him The Kid.”

“He’s like the rookie stripper?”

“Yeah. Something tells me he’s gonna come face to face with the harsh realities of the greater Orlando area strip club underworld, or wherever the fuck this is.”

“But maybe he’ll prove himself,” I muse. “Maybe he’ll rise to the challenge, just when you’re ready to count him out.”

With a lazy chuckle, he props one arm behind his head on the couch. “I hope he does, but in like a montage of various costumes.”

“For your sake, I hope so,” I laugh.

“You know, it’s weird,” he starts. “This whole concept of I knew I was gay when… I saw Titanic or whatever and got a boner for Leonardo DiCaprio. Some people know their whole life, and for some people, it creeps up on you.”

With a thoughtful nod, I ponder it for a moment while I look over at him. Then I shrug as I lean forward to set my bowl down. “Titanic?”

“Or whatever,” Noble laughs. “Where some celebrity has an effect on you as a kid and you’re like, oh shit, I’m gay.”

“Maybe for some people. I mean you never know.”

“Who was your first celebrity crush?”

I think about it over a deep breath and settle back beside him. “I was really into Alyssa Milano on Who’s The Boss--”

Naturally, this makes him crack up, resting his head back on the couch. “Fuck, that’s cute. You’ve been into bossy Italians your whole life, then.”

“Ha.” I grin. “What about you?”

“Dude, Alicia Silverstone in those Aerosmith videos.”

“Oh damn.” I narrow my gaze as I recall the iconic MTV blonde from my adolescence. “Yeah, for sure.”

“What about guys?” He wonders. “I feel like if I was into one, I’d only realize it in hindsight.”

I reach for my glass and ease back. “Right. Not Leonardo DiCaprio, though.”

“No,” he agrees with a disapproving scrunch of his cheek. “I mean, I have a very distinct… memory of the volleyball scene from Top Gun, but I don’t know if--”

I nearly choke on my water before I manage to swallow down a surprised laugh.

“If I’d say I was aroused by it,” he finishes, sharing my amusement.

“You can rewatch it tomorrow while you’re snowed in and let me know how you feel now.”

“Maybe I will.” Reaching over, he drags his fingers through my hair and I rest back, appreciating the faint sensation. “So by the end of this movie, is Channing Tatum gonna up there on your list with Alyssa Milano?”

“Well I don’t know. He might win me over.”

“Oh jeez,” he groans. “I’ll just be out here on my own little gay island, not understanding what all the hype is about with the guy from Magic Mike.”

My shoulders lift as I explain, “I haven’t decided yet. I have to think about it.” I raise my arm to the back of the couch, a wordless cue for him to slide in against me. “But you’ve got me invested in this damn movie, so now we have to finish it.”

“God,” he whispers, scooting down to fit against my side, his arm closest to me draped across my thigh. “You’re such a slut for back muscles.”

My playful fingers dig into his shoulder and I turn to his hair, muttering, “I definitely am. Shh--” before I press a kiss there.

I can’t be sure if I always knew, or if it gradually crept up on me. All that matters is I’m certain this man I come home to every day is all I’ll ever need.

[cali-holland]

Fireworks- Tom Holland One Shot

Pairing: Tom Holland X Reader

Prompt: Tom schedules a VIP tour for when he visits the Happiest Place on Earth and you happen to be that Disneyland tour guide.

Word Count: 2700

Masterlist   Tom Holland Masterlist

*Gif is not mine*

~~~

“Good morning, Y/N.” Your co-worker greeted you in the locker room as she used the mirror to adjust her plaid vest.

“Morning, June.” You smiled back at her. Your eyes trailed down to your own, matching red plaid vest. Working at Disneyland had its perks and being a tour guide came with the specific perk of going on rides all day.

“Y/N,” Your boss walked into the room, straightening out his red tie as he did so.

“Yes?” You replied, turning to him.

“You’ve got a tour today- I know, you have one everyday- but this is a very special and very important tour.” He said and you raised your eyebrows at him. It was unusual to hear your boss inform you of your tour- normally it was just written into your schedule. “We have a celebrity coming. It is his first time here and, as a new and upcoming star, fans shouldn’t be too much of a hassle.”

“May I ask who it is?”

“Tom Holland, the new Spider-Man. It’s rather bad timing to have him come during the Summer of Heroes, but he has bought a VIP tour package, so we must comply.”

“Really? The new Spider-Man?” You asked with wonder filling your eyes. You grew up loving the famous comic book character, but never in your wildest dreams did you think you’d actually meet one of the actors.

“Yes. As a Disneyland tour guide and a cast member, your job is to give him a magical Disneyland tour for the next few days and to treat him as a regular guest, not a celebrity. You have been given permission by the superiors to use the secret tunnels- only if absolutely necessary to steer him away from crowds.”

“The next few days? How long is the tour?”

“Three days. I believe two in Disneyland and one in California Adventure. In California, be extra careful as many Marvel fans will be out there for the new ride and also for the Summer of Heroes.”

“Got it, boss.”

“Get ready. Park opens in ten minutes.” He concluded, before leaving the locker room. June turned to you in awe.

“Your first celebrity tour. Good luck!” She smiled at you.

“Thanks, June. I might need it.” You laughed.

When the time came for your tour to begin, you went out to City Hall. You stopped just short of the door and adjusted your vest one last time. You opened the door to the lobby and found it to be full of people, waiting for their tours to begin. You glanced down at the name the tour was under, Harrison, and called it out to find the group. Three hands shot in the air and you made your way over to them. The three boys dropped their hands as you approached.

“Hello, welcome to the Happiest Place on Earth, Disneyland. My name is Y/N and I will be your tour guide for the next few days. My job is to help you have the most magical time while you are here.”

“I’m Tom and this is my best mate, Harrison, and my brother, Harry.” Tom stuck his hand out and you shook it. You shook hands with Harrison and Harry, smiling warmly at each of the guests.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you three. Would you like to get started?” You asked, gesturing to the exit doors. They nodded and you led them outside.

“Here is the Town Square part of Main Street USA. Main Street USA is the only land that has not been significantly altered since Disneyland’s opening in 1955. It represents early 20th century America and is based upon Walt’s hometown Marceline, Missouri.” You walked out into the street and turned towards the fire station, “Walt’s private apartment is located on the second story of the fire station and he would have a lamp on whenever he was in it. We keep the light on so his presence is still in the park today.” Your spouting of information came to a halt and you watched as Harry took some photos of the fire station and city hall with his camera.

“Harry’s the photographer. He’ll do this a lot.” Tom said to you with a laugh.

“It’s totally okay. Are you all first timers?” You asked as Harry finished, ready to move on.

“Yeah, we had a few days off so we figured Disneyland was the way to go.” He replied. You nodded in response.

“Good choice.” You laughed. “Shall we continue towards the castle?”

~~~

“Do you guys like pineapple?” You asked as you arrived in Adventureland.

“Yep.” Tom nodded and you pointed to the Dole stand outside of the Tiki Room.

“The absolute best place to get pineapple soft serve, or as we call it Dole Whip, is right there. Dole Whip can only be found here in Disneyland, Disneyworld, Disney’s Polynesian Resort, or the Dole plantation in Hawaii. Just behind the stand is the Enchanted Tiki Room, which is sponsored by Dole Foods and features beautiful, singing birds from equally beautiful islands. If you want to cool off, I suggest getting Dole Whip and then watching the show.”

“When’s the next show?” Harrison asked.

“There should be another one in just a few minutes.”

“I say let’s get us some Dole Whip then. If you suggest it, it must be good.” Tom stated.

The four of you got the said Dole Whip and sat outside of the Tiki Room, waiting for its doors to reopen.

“How is your Dole Whip? As good as I told you?” You asked, before taking a spoonful of your own.

“It’s absolutely delicious.” Tom said with a nod.

~~~

 Your first day spent as Tom’s tour guide went smoothly. You took them on just about everything: Space Mountain, Pirates of the Caribbean, Splash Mountain, Winnie the Pooh (yes, because you dry off from Splash in there), Astro Blasters, Matterhorn, and Star Tours. The boys decided to save rides like Indiana Jones and Haunted Mansion for the last day of their trip. Today, you would take them on a tour in California Adventure. You greeted them in the entryway of Disneyland’s sister park with a bright smile.

“Good morning, Y/N.” Tom greeted you.

“Good morning, boys. Did you all sleep all right?” You asked.

“My feet hurt, but yeah.” Tom laughed.

“You’ll be walking a lot today as well. Welcome to Disney’s California Adventure. We are standing in Buena Vista Street, resembling Los Angeles during the 1920s. To take it easy on your feet right now, we’ll ride the red electric cable car to our newest attraction in Hollywood Land.”

“Ah, Guardians of the Galaxy? I should feel right at home.” Tom laughed.

“Hopefully, you feel more at home with the Avengers, than the Guardians.” You replied, leading them aboard the car.

“Well, Star Lord shares the same name as me.” He shrugged. You thought about it for a moment, before letting out a soft laugh- Peter Quill and Peter Parker.

“Say, Y/N, is Spider-Man one of the featured heroes in the Summer of Heroes?” Harrison asked.

“Yes,” You chuckled and Harrison nudged Tom, “The Summer of Heroes includes Spider-Man, Captain America, Black Widow, Hawkeye, Star Lord, Gamora, and Groot.”

“We should go meet Spider-Man.” Harry laughed.

“I’m right here, but I’m down for it.” Tom said.

“I can arrange for us to meet Spider-Man. Don’t worry, boys.” You said. Mentally, you were hoping they wouldn’t want to see him. After all, Tom was Spider-Man and he’d be more recognizable if nearby the thing really made him super famous.

While the four of you sat in your seats for the Guardians of the Galaxy ride, your body began to shake. Tom, from beside you, looked over in worry.

“Are you afraid of heights?” He asked you quietly.

“I’m more scared of the dropping feeling that comes with this specific ride.” You replied in a shaky voice.

“Here.” Tom moved his hand and grabbed yours, “It’s okay. I’ve got you.” You looked over at him and, as your eyes met his, your body relaxed. Tom let out a small smile, reassuring you that everything would be okay.

After the ride ended, you led them over to where Spider-Man’s queue was. All three boys were smiling as they went up to the masked hero.

“Hey, man! How’s it going?” Spider-Man asked.

“It’s going great. How about you, buddy?” Tom asked, switching into his Peter voice.

“I’ve had a great day. Busy helping out the Avengers, ya know.” He said, “Would you like a picture?”

“Of course!” You stood to the side as Tom, Harrison, and Harry took a photo with Spider-Man. You heard a gasp and your eyes darted over to the source.

“That’s Spider-Man!” Someone said from the line. Tom looked over at you worried.

“Yeah, I am Spider-Man.” The guy in the Spider-Man costume said.

“No, he’s is Spider-Man!” Another guy said. He pointed at Tom.

“No, no, I’m not. I just look like him.” Tom stated, slipping back into his British accent.

“Hey, that’s Harrison!” A girl screamed. The crowd started to go for Tom and the other two boys. Spider-Man and other nearby cast members jumped in the way to hold them back.

“We need to go.” You said, leading Tom, Harrison, and Harry into the nearby gate that read “Cast Members Only”.

“Are we allowed back here?” Harry asked.

“Only for emergencies.” You said and he started to lift his camera up. “No pictures back here.” He sheepishly dropped it back to its original position hanging around his neck.

“What do we do now? Just wait for people to leave?” Tom asked.

“No. We’re going to use secret tunnels.” You stated, making Harrison laugh. He quit once he saw your face.

“You’re serious?”

“Yes. How do you think the cast members get around? Now, follow me.” You replied, leading them into a tunnel to the complete other side of the park.

~~~

The next day, you took them on the rides they missed the first and rodes that they wanted to go on again. Among those rides was Haunted Mansion and, as each doom buggy could only hold two people, Tom volunteered for going with you, like he had done on all of the previous rides that called for twos. Noticing his actions, you asked him about it.

“Tom, how come you always choose me? Why not ride with Harrison or Harry?”

“I enjoy spending this time with you. Is there something wrong with me wanting to ride with you?” He asked with a hesitant laugh.

“Well, no, but-”

“It’s okay, Y/N.” Tom said. As your doom buggy descended into the darkness of the ride, Tom let his hand slip onto the seat and find yours. You jumped in shock at the sudden touch. “It’s okay.” He repeated, securing his hand in yours. You felt the same comfort that you felt yesterday just before Guardians of the Galaxy: Mission breakout.

“That was a great ride. And that entire thing is underground?” Tom asked you as you two climbed out of the doom buggy at the end of the ride.

“Yes. A lot of Disneyland’s famous rides are underground, such as this one, Pirates of the Caribbean, and Indiana Jones.”

“That’s mad.” He replied in awe. You met up with Harrison and Harry on the escalator back to ground level. Harrison looked over at you and Tom, then turned to Harry with a smirk on his face. You glanced down at your hand and you realized you still hadn’t dropped Tom’s hand. By the way he started a conversation with Harry about the hitchhiking ghosts, you figured he had forgotten about it as well. Blushing, you let go of his hand and let yours fall back by your side. Tom stopped mid-sentence and looked over at you for a brief second. He turned back to Harry to continue talking when you looked away.

Once outside of the ride, you left to check in with your boss as they shopped over in Frontierland. When you returned to the tour, Tom had just checked out.

“Y/N, I’ve got something for you.” Tom said. He stuck his hand into his new Disneyland shopping bag and you put your hand over his wrist, stopping him.

“I can’t-”

“I insist. You’ve been a major help to us- we definitely would not have been able to have this much fun and do this many rides without you.” He said.

“As a Disneyland tour guide-”

“Right now, you’re one of us, not a tour guide.” Tom stated. You let go of him and he pulled out a set of Minnie Mouse ears.

“They’re lovely.” You laughed lightly, touched by it.

“I’ve heard that you give someone Disney ears when they mean a lot to you.”

“I’ve only known you three days, Tom.” You stated.

“Are you saying you don’t want them?” He faux pouted. You shook your head as a smile formed on your face. “Good, because I don’t know Disneyland’s return policy.”

“Actually-” You started and he placed the ears on your head.

“Shush. You’re keeping them.” He replied.

“Thank you.”

“No, thank you. You made this trip better than I could possibly imagine.” Tom smiled, his hand moving towards yours.

“Are you two ready yet? We want to grab some ice cream before viewing the fireworks again. I need as many chances to get good fireworks shots as I can get.” Harry asked, interrupting your moment with Tom. You two moved away from each other instantly.

“Right. Let’s go.” You nodded, heading out of the store with the boys following you.

“You just had to butt in.” Tom grumbled to Harry.

“Be quicker about it, mate.” Harry said with a shrug.

You took them to Main Street’s Ice Cream Parlor and the four of you got your respectful ice creams. You then led them over to one of the best spots to view the fireworks with the castle in view.

“So, how often do you get to watch the fireworks?” Tom asked as he stood beside you.

“Every night. And it’s magical each and every night.” You replied, smiling up at Sleeping Beauty’s castle.

“Have you always wanted to work here?“I’ve always wanted to entertain people, but I knew I’d never make it as an actress or a singer. Disneyland makes people happy and I love being a part of that.”

“I think you’d be an amazing actress.” Tom said and you laughed, rolling your eyes.

“I’m just a tour guide- I’m not a character or a Jungle Cruise guide.” You stated, with a shrug, “I’m happy where I am. I don’t think I could ever handle the spotlight.”

“Yeah, it’s hard sometimes. I still don’t really see myself as famous. I mean, I’ve been in Disneyland for three days and no one has recognized me- even when I met Spider-Man, no one recognized me.”

“Well, everyone’s focused on their next ride or the magic in Disneyland- they’re not looking for a celebrity.” You laughed.

“I guess.” You looked back at Tom and he paused for a moment, “You-” He was cut off with a loud bang from the fireworks. He jumped, startled at the sudden noise.

“I’m sorry, what were you saying?” You asked him.

“You look beautiful.” He said, making eye contact with you again.

“I’ve been in the same outfit for the past three days.” You laughed.

“Yes, but you still look beautiful.” Tom raised the volume in his voice so you could hear him over the fireworks’ claps, “Is it all right if I kiss you now?” He asked, stepping closer to you. You hesitantly nodded and he leaned in. Fireworks were going on behind you two but you were focused on the fireworks going on between you two. It was pure magic…

…And Harry made sure to capture the moment perfectly with a large red firework sparkling in the background.

[jodybouchard9]

The Property Brothers Discover Jeremy Renner’s Secret Talent on ‘Celebrity IOU’

HGTV

“Property Brothers” stars Drew and Jonathan Scott have pulled off some heroic renovations, but on the latest episode of their new show, “Celebrity IOU,” the pressure’s on when they meet an actor who plays a superhero: Jeremy Renner.

And even superheroes have a soft side! Renner, the man behind the arrow-wielding Marvel character Hawkeye in “The Avengers” movies, wants the Scott brothers’ help renovating a Woodland Hills, CA, condo for his mom, Valerie.

As it turns out, Renner is quite the renovator himself! When not fighting villains on screen, he has a side business remodeling houses, with 25 remodels under his belt.

Together, these three aim to create a home that’s classy and stylish—and also durable enough to stand up to visiting grandkids. Read on to find out how the “Property Brothers” team pulls this renovation off—and along the way, learn some great, kid-friendly updates you might want to try in your own space.

Jeremy Renner plans the condo’s renovation with the “Property Brothers” stars.

HGTV

Choose porcelain counters for a durable, easy-to-clean style

This kitchen needed a lot of work!

HGTV

When the Scott brothers first see Valerie’s kitchen, they know that this space is due for a big renovation. One of the biggest problems? The counters.

“One of my biggest pet peeves in the kitchen is tile counters, because it just sucks up the bacteria,” Jonathan says.

With grandkids in the kitchen all the time, Jonathan knows Valerie will need something that is durable and easy to clean. Plus, he wants to install a countertop that looks sophisticated and stylish. In the end, he settles on a beautiful white porcelain slab that can go up the wall for the  backsplash.

This kitchen looks fresh, modern, and beautiful.

HGTV

“This is going to tie together the whole color palette,” Jonathan says of the porcelain counter. “This is the bling on top of the finished product.”

In the end, it looks amazing. The counters look modern and classy, while also being functional for busy days with grandkids.

An all-white kitchen can turn into a messy kitchen

Renner helps Jonathan choose finishes.

HGTV

While the porcelain counters brighten up the kitchen, the brothers know that a good counter is nothing without some great cabinets. And it’s up to Renner to choose the color.

“You run into a problem when you go all white,” Renner says, explaining that with young children running around the kitchen, white cabinets could get messy fast.

“It’s either change the color of the cabinets or get rid of the kids,” Jonathan jokes.

In the end, Renner and Jonathan decide to pull some white into the cabinet design, but they put it in the upper cabinets, far out of reach of messy little hands. Down below, they choose beautiful dark blue cabinets that make the kitchen look bold and stylish.

Go neutral when it comes to flooring

When Jonathan asks Renner’s opinion on flooring, the actor knows exactly what styles will look good.

“I like the warmth of this,” Renner says when inspecting a sample of white oak flooring. It’s a safe, neutral look, and Jonathan agrees that this color is right for Valerie’s condo.

When the floors are finally installed, Valerie loves the color.

“Just the floors alone are so beautiful,” she says

The entry tile should be stylish and durable

Jonathan and Renner put down the tile for the entryway.

HGTV

With beautiful white oak flooring being installed in the living room, Jonathan isn’t sure what to do with the raised entryway. He knows that putting the same flooring over the single step could make the two levels visually blend together, creating a tripping hazard. Instead, Jonathan decides to install gray and white tile to make the entryway stand out.

And Renner loves the gray and white style Jonathan chooses.

“It has that … classic ’20s Hollywood feel,” Renner says, “and it keeps with the aesthetic of this beautiful, traditional modernized home.”

This tile looks perfect in the entryway.

HGTV

“It actually defines the front entrance and makes this a separate space,” Jonathan says.

But this tile isn’t just functional. Jonathan explains that the durable, easy-to-clean tile will come in handy when grandkids march in from outside.

A fireplace should be both modern and classic

This fireplace updates this space while still giving it a classic flair.

HGTV

While this condo already has a fireplace, the brothers know that the small, off-center feature isn’t going to work for Valerie. They take out the old fireplace and replace it with a new fireplace that brings some old-world style to the living room.

“This fireplace feature wall is a prime example of how we want old to meet new,” Jonathan explains. The plaster finish is going to bring an old European feel.

In the end, the fireplace looks beautiful—modern but classic. It’s a perfect place for Valerie, and a perfect home away from home for her grandkids.

Is this ‘Celebrity IOU’ a success?

Renner and his mom, Valerie, already feel right at home.

HGTV

When Renner and the Scott brothers finally finish this condo, the place looks fantastic. Renner loves the clean, classic look, and when Valerie finally sees her renovated home, she’s shocked. She loves the living room, the floors, and the kitchen.

“My life has come full circle now,” Valerie says. “I can have all my grandchildren here, I can have my children here, we can make so many memories here. I couldn’t be happier.”

The Scott brothers and Renner sure had a lot of fun with this renovation!

HGTV

The post The Property Brothers Discover Jeremy Renner’s Secret Talent on ‘Celebrity IOU’ appeared first on Real Estate News & Insights | realtor.com®.

[sunken-standard]

Another Prompt Fill

Since both came in together...  Great minds, apparently.

*

"Your great-aunt Eudora died," Molly said, glancing over to Sherlock before going back to her slides.

"Oh good, when's the funeral?"

"Day after tomorrow, reading of the will to follow. I didn't know that was an actual thing people actually did. Like, do you lot just gather in mahogany-panelled libraries with your embroidered hankies and veils and mesh gloves and just faint dramatically when the surprise illegitimate child walks in?"

"I know they say television is a window to the world, but sometimes it would do you some good to actually go outside," Sherlock said, shouldering her aside to see what she was looking at. "Ooh, is that brain?"

"Colon polyp, actually, though in this bloke I don't think there was much difference. Real Darwin Award material, thought a curling iron was a vibrator with a warming feature."

"And that killed him?"

"He tried to cool it off by running it under the tap. While it was still plugged in."

"Which end?" Sherlock continued to look at the slide.

"Both."

"Hn." He finally moved away from the microscope. "So, fancy a trip to the Peak District?"

"Wait, you're actually going?"

"Of course I'm going, I want to see what she left me."

"You're not going to make a scene or anything? I mean, it is a funeral."

"You think so little of me. That hurts," Sherlock said too earnestly. He touched his chest. "Right here, in my heart."

"That's not your heart, you've got a raisin stuck to your shirt."

"Wondered where that went. Had a snack in the cab." He picked the raisin off his shirt and popped it in his mouth, then made a face. "That was not a raisin."

I don't even want to know, she thought.

*

"Just awful. Taken too soon," Cousin Sybil said, shaking her head sadly and staring into her wineglass.

"Wait, they're serving wine? In a church?"

"Oh no, I brought my own. If you thought the weddings were bad, the funerals will make you wonder how you ever ended up in this family in the first place."

"Not really in the family, but okay."

Cousin Sybil just looked at her, 'you poor, deluded fool' written across her face. Sherlock picked that moment to reappear; he'd been cornered by his parents, back from the Caribbean just in time. Their globe-trotting always seemed to coincide with family functions, but apparently the funeral was enough of a surprise that they couldn't beg off.

"They'll be seating soon, come on. Need a spot in the front row," he said before steering her toward the chapel doors.

*

"Would anyone like to say a few words?" the vicar said after concluding his sermon.

Sherlock shot up from the pew and dashed to the lectern. He pulled cards from his jacket pocket, fumbling them a bit as he took a steadying breath.

He truly missed his calling, she thought. Though, she'd never have met him if he'd ended up an actor, so there was that.

He started his eulogy and teared up convincingly as he reminisced about her fresh-baked scones and the dish of allsorts she kept by her chair in the study.

Molly leaned into Mycroft. "Really sounds like he was fond of her, that they had a good relationship," she remarked quietly.

"Oh no, the old bat hated him. She hated everyone, but especially him," he said.

Mummy Holmes leaned around Mycroft. "She really was a dreadful woman."

"...And so I've come to understand the fleeting fragility of our time on this Earth, and I realized we've not a moment to be wasted," Sherlock said, choking on his fake tears. "I probably don't have that much time left myself, so I'd like to make the most of it."

He moved out from behind the lectern and came to stand in front of her, pulling her up out of the pew. Her stomach lurched with foreboding.

He dropped to one knee.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" she hissed through gritted teeth as everyone in the church sucked in a breath in unison.

He pulled a little velvet box from inside his jacket pocket. "Molly Hooper. Will you marry me?" he asked, looking up at her with his eyes wide as he opened the box. He bit his lip while he waited for her to react.

I'm going to murder him. Two funerals at once, it'll save everybody time, she thought giddily.

He broke character for a split second to lift his eyebrows a hair and widen his eyes even more, play along and make it good.

She put her hand over her chest and heaved a breath. "Oh Sherlock," she gushed. "Yes, yes, of course!"

He grinned and it actually looked real; he made his hands shake visibly as he slipped the ring on her finger. A wave of gasps and murmurs rolled through the crowd.

He stood and pulled her into a hug, bending so his lips were next to her ear. "If I had a mic, I'd drop it right now and peace out," he said. "Is the coffin moving? She's probably spinning in it."

"You are such an arsehole," she said into his ear while she clung to his neck.

"I know," he said, sounding well-pleased.  "Never let it be said I don't know how to put the 'fun' in 'funeral.'"

"I'm not helping you fake your own death again." She was sure he had that planned after his little 'not having time left' thing; she wondered how long he'd been sitting on the idea.

"Spoilsport," he said, rocking them back and forth a little bit. "You could stand to cry a little. Pull out a nose-hair if you have to, I'll cover you."

"Words cannot begin to describe the world of hurt you're in for when this is over," she said.

He pulled back and gave her a quick kiss right on the lips. "Do you promise?" he said, eyes sparkling.

"Oh, I promise," she said darkly.

She spent the rest of the funeral fondly recalling dismembering the chocolate Sherlock with a wire saw and a blowtorch, only substituting the real one in the memory.

*

Molly walked with Sherlock's parents in the procession from the chapel to the churchyard, as both Sherlock and Mycroft were pallbearers; she hoped to God Sherlock didn't do something to make them drop the coffin. She could just imagine the body rolling out and down the hillside to the motorway below, causing a ten-car pile-up when a lorry swerved to avoid it...

"I'd like at least two grandchildren, three if you can manage it. Identical twins run on my side, you might get lucky," Mummy Holmes said. Apart from their introduction, it was the first thing she'd said to her. Ever.

"I'll, ah, see what I can do," Molly said.

"You should honeymoon in Jamaica. The resort we stayed at was Hedonism II, cannot recommend it highly enough. The food was amazing and the view of the beach was simply spectacular."

"The view inside the room was too," Daddy Holmes said, his face innocent as he gave his wife's bum a firm squeeze.

Molly stopped wondering how Sherlock had turned out the way he did.

*

"Welcome to the Hotel California," Cousin Sybil said as soon as they stepped into the entryway of the actual mansion where the wake and will-reading was being held. Molly was 98% certain it was Aunt Eudora's house. Well, one of them.

"I mean 'the Family,'" she added, pressing a glass into Molly's hand.

"What is this?" Molly asked, sniffing the glass.

"Scotch that they found in an iceberg or something. Trying to drink it all because Billy's set to inherit it. He's coveted it his entire life because he's got a hard-on for adventure and it's some historical... explorer... thing. Ha! Can't wait to hear what he tells the lads on the polo team. He'll probably just dump a bottle of Glengoolie in the decanter and add a few drops of Dettol and pass it off as the real thing. Those idiots would drink horse piss if someone told them it was single malt and stuck a £750 pricetag on it." She drained her glass and wandered away.

*

"I swear to everything that is holy, if you put your fingers in or even near my mouth again I will bite them off."

"I'm feeding you, it's romantic. Have some more cake," he said, breaking off a piece of the very plain, very dry slice of poundcake on her plate. Apparently even the food was meant to inspire a suitable state of misery.

"Really not. Have you even washed your hands since you carried that coffin?"

"Why does that matter? You touch dead people all day at work."

"I wear gloves."

"Stupid NHS rules. Imagine the budget savings if they did away with that policy. Maybe I'll mention that to Cousin Fred, he's an MP."

"Please don't."

*

The reading of the will really was in a library with leather furniture and wood panelling. There were stag heads and swords, too.

She ended up on an ancient sofa obviously made of irregularly-shaped rocks and corners of bricks, squashed between Sherlock and some elderly Aunt whose name she hadn't caught who smelled vaguely of mothballs, sour milk, and old money.

The solicitor shuffled a stack of papers and blah-blah-blahed on about his contact information and legally binding whatever-whatever until finally he jumped right into the who-gets-what. "To the worst daughter God has ever seen fit to burden a mother with, I leave the house and all associated properties. Do try not to lose it in your next divorce, you simple tart," he read in a monotone.

"To my idiot son Rudy, I leave my entire wardrobe and a sum of fifty thousand pounds so you can finally get the operation. You did a piss-poor job of hiding it. I never should have let you have that teddy bear when you were six because I knew it would turn you into a nancy-boy, but you begged and begged, what was a mother to do? I hope you find yourself a nice man to settle down with."

"Ha, joke's on her, he's not actually a woman or gay, he's just a cross-dresser," Sherlock said, leaning into Molly and putting his hand on her leg. "Going to have a bit of a kip until they get to me, wake me when it's my turn." He settled back against the sofa, but left his hand on her thigh.

*

"...And to that little prick William Sherlock," the solicitor droned. Sherlock's elbow slid off the arm of the sofa and he woke with a start when he heard his name. "I leave my departed husband's collection of coprolites."

"Oh-ho, yes!" Sherlock clenched his fists and wiggled in his seat. "I love fossils."

"Eat shit and die, you little arsehole," the solicitor finished in his monotone.

*

She found herself pressed up against the door of a froufrou parlour this time; she'd excused herself to go to the toilet shortly after they'd got to Sherlock in the reading when it became apparent there was no end in sight and of course he followed her.

She wasn't even sure how it happened. One minute she was walking along, opening doors in the labyrinthine corridors hoping to find the library again, or at least a room with a liquor cabinet, and the next she was inside a lady's sitting room with Sherlock's tongue down her throat and his thigh snug between hers. She really hoped this sudden display of affection had nothing to do with his inheritance. She supposed maybe it was just the fact that it was a funeral; they always made her a little randy, too. Some kind of pushback against mortality, she thought to herself as Sherlock wedged his hand behind her to unzip her dress. Whatever. She was in the sweet spot between bored and drunk and pretty much anything short of arson would seem like a good idea.

"Maybe try to make it last the full minute this time," she said, hiking up her skirt.

"Should be good for longer than that, had a wank this morning before we left."

Her lips pursed into a question, even though it took her a few seconds to figure out what to ask. "Wh— Where was I?"

"In the shower," he answered against the crook of her neck like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Where were you?"

"Kitchen."

"You had a wank in my kitchen at four in the morning. Before a funeral."

"I was nervous. It helps."

"Oh. my. God."

"I haven't even put it in yet, must be doing something right," Sherlock quipped before kissing her again.

*

Molly leaned against the door of the car watching the family members file out of the house with cardboard boxes and paintings and lamps like it was a fire sale. Sherlock had already loaded his boxes in the boot; it was indeed a sizeable collection of shit.

Sherlock flopped against the side of the car next to her, his head lolling back against the roof. "Really hope this is the last one for a while. I don't want to see any of these people again ever."

"Well, at least til the wedding," Molly said, a teasing lilt to her voice that was only half-teasing.

"Oh God, which one's getting married now?"

She held her left hand in front of his face.

His face did a thing where it crumpled in on itself in confusion before smoothing out again with new and different wrinkles; he looked at her askance. "You really would?"

"You're highly educated, quite fit, and rich. I mean, maybe you're not great in bed, but a girl can't have everything," she said lightly.

"That last bit is invalid because we weren't actually in a bed. I lasted the full minute and even gave you an extra thirty seconds this time. Sorry about your dress, though."

"At least it's machine washable. Wouldn't want to take that to the dry cleaners."

"Mine know not to ask questions, it's better for everyone. And I tip well."

"Mm," Molly acknowledged. She knew all too well the kinds of things he ended up covered in. At least he was considerate enough to clean out her shower drain, after. Even snaked the pipes after an incident with tarmac and another with rubber cement. He'd posed as a plumber once on a case, he'd told her. The joke she made about laying pipe had gone completely over his head. Good times.

Sherlock didn't say anything else, but he slipped his hand into hers and interlaced their fingers, leaning against her side.

"You realize we're going to have to invite every single person that was here today, right?" she said, smirking.

"Bugger. How would you feel about a destination wedding? Somewhere far away. With no waiting period."

"Like the Caribbean? Your parents seemed to really like the resort they stayed at. Right up your alley, too, it was clothing-optional."

"...And there goes my ability to ever have an erection again."

Molly opened her mouth to make some kind of joke about size or staying power, then closed it again. Really shouldn't cut off her own nose to spite her face.

"You know, I'm a doctor, I can probably do something about that," she said instead.

Sherlock shifted against the side of the car and cleared his throat. "...Aaand you just did," he said.

"Really?"

"It's a thing," he said defensively.

"This is going to be fun," she said, her lips curling into a smile. If she looked in a mirror she'd probably have devil horns and flames dancing in her pupils.

"Yes," Sherlock said simply.

[bienready2122]

Ghost Vs Alien

I am a multi year old on-screen character and I have only one dream-the fantasy. I need to be the greatest celebrity the world has ever been a crowd of people to. To me, in the previous 3 years, every day has been spent like a prominent tryout for my next enormous break. The world has been the stage, the crowd and my individual entertainers, while I experienced every day as simply one more execution. Every day the tickets were sold out and every day it was an excellent exhibition. Today is one such day.. mơ thấy rồng đánh con gì A rich and effective maker, Mr. Castigliani, needs me to go to the Apollo Hospital in Mysore and meet his wiped out little girl for two hours. On the off chance that I do this and in the event that the wiped out girl is satisfied by my presentation, at that point I will find a workable pace lead character in the gifted chief of "Sylvia North Story ", Adam Kesher's next anonymous motion picture. And all I needed to do was-I needed to imagine that I was the wiped out little girl's sweetheart. Sure why not! To be the lead entertainer in Adam's motion picture I'll be her God-cursed spouse for an amazing remainder.

I brought Lilies, as taught, and gave them with a major grin to the exceptionally wiped out young lady. I read her outline the wiped out young lady's name was Anju, just Anju. Her entire body was simply some pale tight skin on delicate old bones. She was horrendous. She appeared as though she woke up from a trance like state or something coz she was unable to move her body that well. She was ungainly with the blossoms that I gave her and she didn't have the foggiest idea how to react to my extremely liberal embrace. She was simply terrible. Additionally it was exceptionally odd that Mr. Castigliani and Anju had positively no physical similitudes by any stretch of the imagination. Anju probably gotten her looks from her mother.

"What's your name?" she asked brightly. She had a sweet voice.

"Did you overlook your beau unexpectedly early, Anju?" I prodded.

"So you are my beau, huh? I thought you should act like my sibling, however on the other hand, that wouldn't bode well, would it? Coz I have no sibling!"

I was befuddled. I needed to ad lib and cooperate "Ah you and your jokes! Now and again I don't get your jokes, sham! I am your sweetheart Vicky, how might you overlook this grin of mine, huh?"

"You don't need to act constantly, you know. My father needs to perk me up after I woke up from that unpleasant mishap, so he sent you to me, so I know! Everything, OK?"

"Alright. I get it. So your kid kicked the bucket in this mishap is it? To what extent prior would it say it was? You were in a state of unconsciousness weren't you?" I prattled on.

"Slow down there SuperMan!" she criticized, "I just woke up following a year! I'm moderate, and ungraceful and woozy!"

"Sorry!" was everything I could state and gave her an opportunity to do anything she desired to do. I would not like to cause her to feel awkward my profession was hanging in the balance here. I needed to fulfill her. This was an inclination I never felt the sentiment of attempting to make others cheerful or snicker...

"So you're here to cause me to feel better?" she inquired.

"Indeed"

"To what extent do you have..."

"Somewhat less than two hours..."

"Okay then-Entertain me! Overwhelm my brain!" she shouted illuminating her eyes.

"Okay! That is the thing that I needed to hear!", I started, "Presently close your eyes! Think about the most sentimental spot you can think of..."

I allowed her 10 seconds, and I said delicately, "Where are you?"

"I am in the most elevated pinnacle of a wonderful castle..."

"Alright, great, presently open your eyes... You see me strolling gradually towards you with an insidious looking smile..."

"I see you..."

"What's more, I see you... I gracelessly take out my cell phone and snap a photo of you... the delightful you..."

"Pause.. What?"

"My companions will have a hard time believing me in the event that I disclose to them how stunningly lovely you are... that is the reason the picture..."

"How might you snap a photo of me with your cell phone?"

I took a gander at her with doubt "It has a 6.1 Mega Pixel Camera!"

"Goodness Wow! In any case, that, that is not what I mean... You don't have a cell phone where I am at the present time... I am Princess Buttercup, detained in the mansion anticipating her affection to come and protect her... "

"Goodness I can do that..."

"Great. Do it well then..."

"Buttercup, My affection I'm coming... Your Prince Charming is seeking you, Buttercup, and salvage you from this huge terrible mythical beast!"

"What! Haven't you seen 'The Princess Bride'? Buttercup isn't secured by some winged serpent! Also, you should be Wesley, not Prince Charming! I'm not a young lady hanging tight for a Prince Charming to come and spare her, you good for nothing!"

I was getting pissed. Truly pissed enough to break her bones-every one of them. I rehashed the enchantment mantra in my mind to quiet down-Adam Kesher. Adam Kesher. Lead Actor. Lead Actor.

"Okay I'm Wesley" I yelled.

"No you're not Wesley! Clearly you haven't seen the motion picture... You don't have a clue how to be Wesley..."

"Clearly!" I said with a mocking shake of the head. It wasn't working out positively for me-I could lose an amazing opportunity coz I didn't see this one film? Offer me a reprieve! "The Princess Bride" My can!! I never knew about that film! Must be some low-spending failure!

I out of nowhere observed dread in her eyes. She was trembling everywhere. I thought it was something identified with her condition yet she continued taking a gander at the window, as though her life relied upon it.

"Hello Vicky, would you be able to see something over yonder, close to the window?" she inquired.

"No" I said as I strolled towards the window. Out of nowhere I could feel my body freeze. I could see my hands turn bluer and bluer. I solidified. Everything was getting hazy and I was terrified. I thought I was going to kick the bucket...

"I needn't bother with you... Leave! Leave! If it's not too much trouble I ask you..." I heard her yell as loud as possible.

Gradually I could feel the progression of blood in my body. I could feel my heart beat quicker yet my breathing was not common "What the heck was that?" I hollered breaking into sweat.

"Your activity is done, Vicky. Return home," said Mr. Castigliani running into the room, he was by all accounts terrifying, "Here take this location and come tomorrow at 11 a.m sharp. Adam will be anxiously sitting tight for you."

I took a gander at him with clear eyes. Is this truly occurring? Is it safe to say that i was dreaming? Is it accurate to say that i was truly going to be a lead entertainer in Adam Kesher's motion picture?

"Father, his two hours are not over..." interfered with Anju.

"In any case, nectar, just now..." Mr. Castigliani's eyes gushed.

"It's not what you think it is, dad..." Anju was crying as well.

What was happening here? What simply occurred?

"Okay Sweety, anything you desire... You realize I'll do anything for you..."

"I know father... I know"

"I love you, little blessed messenger"

"Love you too dad..."

Mr. Castigliani bolted the entryway behind him and Anju and I were distant from everyone else once more.

"Simply don't get some information about it, OK?" she requested.

I gestured my head hesitantly.

"This is what I need you to act like," she proceeded, "You are dead..."

"That is simple!" I grinned resting.

She snickered "No, you are an apparition and you frequent your very own grave!"

"How spectacular of me!" I noted.

"You know there's a motivation behind why you frequent your very own grave-you have numerous individuals that you love. There are numerous individuals that you need to help and ensure, however you can't. You have no forces by any stretch of the imagination. You couldn't damage or support a fly in the event that you needed to... What's more, it's not possible for anyone to see you or feel you, not in any case your young lady companion... You are powerless and lonely..."

"This improves and better every second...."

"Quit grumbling... presently here's the intriguing part. Your young lady companion, which is me, visits your grave daily..."

"I would anticipate nothing less from her!" I grinned.

"Presently now, quiet down fella! You have an alarming errand at hand..."

"What?" I asked getting intrigued.

"There's an outsider stalking me, and that outsider means to hurt me..."

I was puzzled. I probably had an extremely abnormal stunned demeanor all over coz she took a gander at me for some time and she began giggling madly.

"In this story there's an apparition and an outsider? You need a Human Ghost v/s Alien wrestling match?" I wound up saying without speculation. My cerebrum still couldn't totally process the thought.

"That is correct, Yup!" she said getting energized.

She was not kidding. She needed me to showcase this scene! I mean no one had thought of this thought previously, presumably! So how might I act this one out? How was I expected to ad lib? What occurs? What ought to occur?

"Hello, my life is at serious risk! You better accomplish something Mr. Phantom Boy Friend!" she prodded.

"That is okay, in the event that the outsider slaughters you, at that point you also will be an apparition and we can be at last together!" I reported acclaiming my sheer feeling of creativity.

"How egotistical would you be able to be? I would prefer not to kick the bucket just to be with you! I have my very own existence, you know!"

"Well very little dear! On the off chance that you had an actual existence would you visit my grave day by day, truly?"

"You just kicked the bucket and I miss your stinky smell once in a while, however that doesn't mean I don't have my very own existence! In addition the outsider probably won't murder me, he may assault me..."

"Assault you?"

"I'm an entrancing wonder after all-you said it so yourself!"

"All things considered, in what manner can an outsider assault you!"

"Well I would prefer not to delve into the subtleties I'm the main young lady in this room, and I state, its assault!"

"Okay, All right! I will kick the outsider's butt for you! Cheerful?"

"No you can't!"

"Be that as it may, you said he'll assault you!"

"He will, however you can't beat him down coz you can't contact anyone's can recollect that you can't harmed a fly?"

"Ooooooh! I get it... I need to kick some outsider ass, yet I can't and you realize that I can't kick outsider ass, yet you need me to in any case?"

"Indeed! You are at last getting it!"

"Gracious sibling! We should see... how about we see... I can't contact him right?"

"Right"

"Perhaps I can locate some other apparition who can beat him down!"

"All apparitions have a similar impairment as you!"

"Well perhaps I can panic him?"

"He can't see you!"

"Well he's an outsider, who realizes what sort of innovation they have... Possibly he can see me or if nothing else sense me..."

"For what reason would outsiders create innovation to distinguish human apparitions? Is it accurate to say that you are idiotic or something?"

"Hello! Possibly they built up some innovation to identify outsider apparitions and that sam

[nightmare-afton-cosplay]

Soap Star Joshua Morrow Buys $3.3M Home on Golf Course in Thousand Oaks

Jason Kempin/Getty Images

Patience really paid off for “The Young and the Restless” star Joshua Morrow. The soap star finally bought his dream home in the prestigious Lake Sherwood area of Thousand Oaks, CA, at a discounted price.

The traditional-style luxury home was initially listed for $3.8 million in August. The price dropped to $3.5 million in October, and the soap star picked it up earlier this year for $3.3 million.

Now the 44-year-old actor, who has played the character Nicholas Newman on “The Young and the Restless” since 1994, is the proud owner of a five-bedroom, 5.5-bath home that backs up to the seventh hole of Lake Sherwood Country Club. Other than a stray golf ball threatening your window every now and then, it doesn’t get much better than that.

The 5,948-square-foot home was built in 1995 and has been updated since. It features a two-story entryway with a parquet wood floor, a lovely staircase, and an upstairs gallery.

Joshua Morrow’s new home in Thousand Oaks, CA

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Two-story entryway

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On the main floor are formal dining and living rooms, an office/media room, and a spacious kitchen with both an island and a peninsula. The kitchen opens onto a comfy den with custom woodwork and a fireplace.

Formal living room

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Kitchen

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Den adjacent to the kitchen

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The second story features several bedrooms, including the massive master suite. The suite comes with a sitting area and fireplace, more custom woodwork and paneling, a window seat, private balcony overlooking the sand traps, and a unique marble bath roughly the size of a studio apartment.

Master balcony

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Out back there’s a rock-lined pool, which befuddled golfers might mistake for a water hazard if it weren’t for the adjacent outdoor kitchen.

Pool, spa, and outdoor kitchen

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Morrow will be in good company in Sherwood, as celebs including Meatloaf, Wayne Gretzky, and Britney Spears have all called this luxe area home.

The post Soap Star Joshua Morrow Buys $3.3M Home on Golf Course in Thousand Oaks appeared first on Real Estate News & Insights | realtor.com®.

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