#a rose by any other name

[out-of-the-forest-i-come]

exciting queer releases this July

Quite a few queer books are coming out this month, and here are the ones I'm most excited for. if any sound interesting to you, don't hesitate to check out their actual summary, which probably do a better job of explaining what the book is about than me.

A Darker Mischief by Derek Milman. A Darker Mischief released last week on July 2nd and seems to be a queer dark academia book set in a boarding school and mixing horror and thriller, complete with talk of privilege and secret societies. It sounds like it follows right in the steps of previous dark academia boarding school novels, while still having potential to be unique in its own right, and I'd be delighted to be able to read it.

Bury Your Gays by Chuck Tingle. Releasing July 9th, Bury Your Gays appears to be a horror novel about the importance of not sacrificing the gay characters on screen simply because they are gay, and the consequences that such hasty representation could have. Now, I'm not usually a big horror reader, but I'm really intrigued about the horror part of this book, and combined with the commentary on the importance of representation, I won't hesitate to read this book if I have the opportunity to.

Cursed Under London, by Gabby Hutchinson Crouch. Releasing July 11th. Cursed Under London is about two men whose curses are intertwined. As they investigate on how to get rid of these, they discover that they're also involved in a bigger, more sinister plot. All while falling in love. Need I say more?

The Duke at Hazard by K.J. Charles. Releasing July 18th. I haven't read the first book in this series (although I'm pretty sure it can be read almost as a standalone), and I haven't read a single K.J. Charles book ever (even if I'm dying to) but it's K.J. Charles, the queen of queer historical romances, and that's enough for me.

A Rose By Any Other Name by Mary McMyne. Releasing July 16th. A historical, mystic, and queer retelling of one of Shakespeare's sonnets. I can't ask more of a book.

[i-am-trans-gwender]

"I saw a visibly transgender person and-"

Stop right there. Explain to me how they were visibly transgender?

Were they wearing trans pride stuff like a pin, a shirt or something like that?

Or did you see a woman with masculine traits or vice versa a man with femmine traits and automatically think that there trans?

Also would you tell them to there face they are "visibly transgender"? If no then why would you say it online for imaginary internet points?

I thought we agreed calling trans people "clocky" was bad. "Visibly transgender" is the same thing but with a different name.

I don't care if your trans and you describe people as being "visibly transgender". Clocking is clocking.

Some cis people don't pass as there gender.

The only way to know if someone is trans (without an invasion of privacy) is if they tell you.

[thedepressedpelican]

"O my Luve is like a red, red rose

   That’s newly sprung in June;

O my Luve is like the melody

   That’s sweetly played in tune."

Robert Burns

[demonicappetite]

a rose by any other name

a captive prince mob au

II. Cul-de-sac

He was shorter than Damen and maybe a bit younger, Damen couldn’t really tell with the mask confining the man’s face. Though the few things that the mask drew attention to were the eyes, dark blue resting between long, fair eyelashes; and his mouth, two horizontal drops of Merlot that demanded a separate painting. The stars varying in size on his mask had the color of foil engravings of the ceiling, his hair added a different shade on the palette of brightness. Damen’s palms itched with the phantom feeling of his camera and the shutter sound going off with the satisfaction of capturing something exquisite.

Damianos Valens, heir presumptive to the Lions, a formidable criminal syndicate, meets Laurent de Vere, the younger son of their historic rivals, the Pythons. Without the highly unnecessary additions, it was simpler: Damen meets Laurent.

The second chapter of my Captive Prince mafia au is now available on AO3 <3

[seeker-ophelia]

OK I Am Vibrating Right Now

But I was writing a Lore-Dragon-Thing and I have a Very Important Question for you all...

Plz share, I'd like a tumblr consensus

Happy Low-Effort-Meme-Monday

[indy-soul]

[emmett-mchearty]

An Untimely Frost... - Chapter 20

@rose-lily-hale @vampireacademia @twilightofficial @queertwilight @before-night @the-most-pathetic-edge-marquis @effervescent-hoe @edwardsparklehands @teamjacobthot @jacobsbadwig @twilight-mademegay @bellasredchevy @bellaskhakis @twihards-never-die @jasperwhitcock @volturialice @su-angelvicioso

Thank you for your patience while I dealt with some family stuff! Remember to reblog to support your local creators! 🙏🏻🩷🌈 love yall!

[slothgiirl]

a rose by any other name epilogue

reader x druig.

New York. North Dakota. 2024.

You had never been to New York before. Not in this life, or any other. You weren’t sure this counted either.

Seeing a city from the airport cab ride to Doctor Strange’s place in the city seemed like cheating. You’d seen the famous skyline, but hadn’t step foor anywhere.

“Is there some superhero directory I’m not aware of,” you ask Druig, craning your neck. You were pretty sure that was central park, gone in a flash.

“Sanctums are quite stationary,” he shrugs, licking ketchup off his fingers. You thought airport hotdogs were a bag idea. “This one’d been around since the 1700s. When it was New Amsterdam.” 

“Wasn’t Hong Kong closer?”

Druig shakes his head, “we need someone. . .flexible about all those rules they made about the mystic arts.”

“Two thousand years and it never occured to you until now,” you ask him, slouching into the seat. The world was still intact. The news hasn’t stopped reporting on the new chain of islands in the indian ocean that look like fingers. 

Tiamut was neither alive or dead in some weird cosmic energy thing you didn’t understand. 

Druig looks over at you sheepishly, “I had other things on my mind.” His gaze flickers down to your chest.

It’s probably the whole averted apocalypse that has you in such an indulgent mood; you lean you head against his shoulder and smack his chest lightly.

“Careful my lady,” he says sounding terribly smug, “Ikaris did attempt to murder me.”

“I guess I’ll have to finish the job,” you rest your hand against his chest, feeling his ribcage move as he breathes. He wasn’t fine. 

Druig was careful to keep weight off his left foot. 

Phastos had given him the all clear which didn’t make you feel much better. Not when two of them had died in the span of days. 

Phastos had left quickly, unable to be away from his family for any longer. 

“Oh, is that how it’s gonna be,” he laughs.

“I guess I could let it slide,” you meet his gaze, feeling immense relief all over again, “you did just save the world.”

Druig tips his chin up, looking full of himself. 

There was a lightness to him that you’d missed, a playfulness that was so characteristic of your Eternal lover. Your eyes rover over his features that you knew so well. The scar on his cheekbone, near the outer corner of his eyes, had not faded at all. The way his brilliant blue eyes crinkled with easy smiles and how his laugh filled a room. 

He was there. Alive. You were both alive. 

So many lives and you continued to be enamoured of him. It never got old, being in love, making a home with him. Anyplace, anytime. 

There were tears in your eyes.

Again.

All you’d done this week was cry.

“I did,” he nods, pressing his lips against your hair. “Though if you hear Phastos tell it-”

“Yeah,” you clutch the fabric of his shirt. 

Sensing your somber mood, Druig wraps his arms around you. “I’m right here, love.” He tucks your head under his chin, “‘S alright.”

“When the plane started to shake,” you say quietly, “I thought that was it-” It was over. The world ending with you in a private plane. 

There had been so many close calls.

“The world’s always ending,” you mutter, breathing in his scent. You understood Lizzy, finally. 

It was never over. Earth was still in trouble after Thanos.

Captain Marvel had her hands full with the rest of the universe.

“Is this what being part of the universe is like?” Always being scared some empire would come in and take over, being invaded, some asshole destroying your planet for no reason. You didn’t want to sit by and hope for the best. You couldn’t.

It would drive you mad.

“I-,” he frowns. “Well, I wouldn’t really know. Don’t remember anything but Earth.”

“All those planets-” you shift your gaze out the window as the cab pulls to a stop. What about the planets where Arishem got their way? 

“I know.” 

Druig’s expression grows weary. It was the same way he’d looked when Ajak had forbidden them from aiding the Mexica from smallpox and the genocide on the horizon. He wasn’t going to let this go.

You pay for the cab. 

The sanctum is an unassuming building. The plaque is the only way you know you’re in the right place. 

You're surprised there's no awards for saving half the universe. No Avengers insignia for Doctor Strange. 

Druig holds your hand.

“This isn’t some. . .” you pause, “He can help right?” You didn’t understand much of anything when it came to magic. 

“If not,” his eyes glow. “I can always. . .”

It’s comforting. 

“Okay.” You nod.

The world was still spinning. There was nothing else you could do but go for it. 

Dr. Strange seemed the type to break whatever rules suited him, very Iron Man-esque who thought he was above the Sokovia Accords. Right? You try not to think to hard about Ultron. About ashes and world heritage sites getting destroyed by the latest threat. The London Eye was still closed. 

You breathe.

And knock against the door.

It swings open.

You aren’t sure what to expect as you step through: cauldrons and black witches hats covered in dust and cobwebs. The last sanctum had been ordinary for it’s time, filled with students and ancient sayings in calligraphy hanging on the walls. That isn’t New York either. It lacks the faux orientalism prevalent in Europe circa the 1800s. 

No, the New York sanctum feels like a rundown hotel that’s decades past its prime but no less grand for it. There’s tasteful tables with relics you imagine are just as magical as Phastos inventions. 

You peer around the grand staircase, expecting to see someone. “Hello?” You don’t have to check to know Druig’s a step behind you. His presence is an anchor as you venture further into the sanctum. 

There were no students. 

It feels abandoned compared with Hong Kong. 

Your chest tightens at the thought of the sleepy fishing village. Hong Kong was nothing like that now. There was a certain pain that came with knowing the world was transformed each time you lived. You thought of street food vendors whose names only you knew. 

All that history you carried with you. The faces of people you’d loved. The memories of books that had not survived. 

You press your tongue to the roof of your mouth. 

In your mind’s eye, the ashes of the Snap were the same as the smoke of Tenochtitlan burning. 

Druig sets his hands on your shoulders, “do you think they have an Instagram we can message?”

“Ha, very funny,” Dr. Strange walks in from a corridor, looking over his shoulder like a teenager sneaking out of the house, “do you mind if we move this into the laundry room. Don’t want Wong to interrupt us,” he says even as he leads the way.

“You were expecting us. . .Dr. Strange,” you state aloud looking for confirmation. It was a parlour trick for these sorcerers. 

“Yes and no.” He whips his head, turning to you as he opens a door, “and please call me Stephan. Dr. Strange is grandiose even by my standards.”

“And the discount Jedi robes aren’t,” Druig says cocking his brows. 

You elbow him, “look who’s talking.”

“My lady,” he holds his hand against his chest in mock offence.

You roll your eyes at him. 

Stephan looks on, amused. “I foresaw the high possibility that you’d stop here. . .it the world wasn’t destroyed, if you both survived, if you chose to leave. There’s so many factors. A background in statistics is useful in the mystic arts.”

“Well that’s no fun.” You’d been hoping for less maths and more wand waving. In the news, it seemed so easy, just a wave of his hands and-TA DA. 

“And neither is reincarnating,” Stephan snarks back, taking a seat on a laundry basket full of either robes or linens. 

You purse your lips. “It’s not ideal. But not awful.” You never really remembered dying unless it was awful. That hadn’t happened in a while. No, it was more like being homesick for a time and place that didn’t exist but people struggled with that all the time. People moved so often in this century: never knowing when they’d go back home. 

And that wasn’t even touching on displaced people. Millions of Sokovian refugees. . .

“So you're not here to get that fixed?” Stephan asks pointedly. 

He must’ve decided to become a doctor by watching House M.D. Copied the whole schtick off there. 

“I thought it couldn’t be. . .changed.” You frown, crossing your arms over your chest. You wish you could google this magic stuff. You didn’t like being so badly informed. 

“No. The spell you cast can’t be modified,” Stephan agrees, “I’d have to break it and create a new one. Though granting any type of immortality is a big no-no in the mystic arts.”

“Which is why we’re hiding,” Druig infers.

Stephan Strange frowns ruefully, “I’m not Sorcerer Supreme anymore or it’d be my call. I still-I’m still going to help.”

“Right?” 

“Earth needs all the allies it can get.”

“So not out of the kindness of your heart,” you surmise, feeling like a pawn. You’d never liked how Ikaris and Ajak had made you feel like a tag along. Like Druig’s human pet. It left a bad taste in your mouth. 

“You don’t think you’ve lived long enough?”

And wasn’t that also true. You’d been lucky to witness so much. History and people and spend it with the man you loved, your soulmate, not just once but over and over. It was far longer than most people got. You’d told Druig something similar once. 

What made you so special you deserved an exception?

“Oi,” Druig stiffens. 

But this wasn’t his call. This wasn’t about him. Not really. 

This was about you. You who was just another human having an unusual conversation with a peer. Often, you’d be the token human in the Eternals conversation and no matter how long you’d lived there was still something unique about the human experience that you could relate to Stephan Strange in a way that Druig and Sersi would never understand. 

(You’d talk about this with Sprite one day.)

“I think I’ve been very lucky,” you acknowledge. “But all I want is this life. For however long that is. I think I’ve done enough reincarnating, y’know.” It had all been a cosmic accident you didn’t even remember creating. Had you been trying to save yourself and the magic came out like this? Had you meant to create another spell? 

These memories were lost to you now. And they didn’t matter. 

You were done with living again and again. You didn’t want to forget and remember and forget again. You wanted to hold onto all of you, your memories and thoughts and your muchness as it was right now in this moment and die knowing that was the end. Just like everyone else. (You were curious about what came after, if anything.)

“Okay,” Stephan smiles kindly. “I’ll help you. But- this’ll be it. No second chances. No next time. No do overs. You’ll be frozen in time. You’ll still have your magic, but you won’t age. You couldn’t ever have children. You’ll still be just as breakable as me and every other sucker in New York.”

“Alright.” You nod.

“You sure? I can always just break the spell.”

“I’m sure.” 

He nods. “Well then, try and stand still. I need to concentrate.” Dr. Strange waves his hands in cyclical movements. 

It’s like a buzz under you skin. Something’s happening, but it’s too foreign for you to understand what. The small cramped room fills with light. 

You shut your eyes and count, steadying your breath. This was it. 

By this time tomorrow you’d be in space. 

It was crazy when you thought about it. No less crazy than Thanos and New York and falling in love with an alien. 

1. 2. 3. 

Deep breath. 

***

Makkari waves her pointer finger in a circular motion, the most universal hand gesture for spin around. 

You indulge her, “you’re acting like I grew another head or something.”

The speedster smiles, I am glad you are coming with us. 

You grin, “you’re only saying that so I help you with your eReader. Or did you splurge on an Ipad? Wait, you probably stole it.”

Looking awfully mischievous, Makkari holds her finger to her lips, hush now. Didn’t happen if there’s no witnesses.

You laugh, figuring there were worse crimes than stealing from the Apple Store. 

The Domo floated above head. Thena was all packed up and ready to go. You’d said your goodbyes to Sersi, Kingo, and Sprite days ago. 

Now it was just about leaving. Leaving this green and blue rock you called home. 

You bite your bottom lip. It had been hard packing up, mostly because you didn’t know when you’d be back. Clothes, essentials, a magic book from Dr. Strange. Saying your goodbyes hurt the most. 

What would Sprite look like at twenty? You were so used to her as an adolescent. Your siblings. . .

“We don’t have to go.” Druig reaches for your hand. “We can stay if you wish, my lady.”

North Dakota was gloomy today. 

“I want to.” That was true. You also felt bittersweet at leaving this planet. “I want to see the stars. Find the other Eternals.” You meet his startling blue eyes, cupping his cheek. “I want to do all of it with you.” 

He rests his forehead against yours. “I love you.”

“I know,” you nod, “just, give me a moment.” You squeeze his hand, before slowly heading towards Thena. You take your time, gazing over the landscape. The grass was brown and dead for the season. You're pretty sure it’s going to rain tonight. 

It was frightening to say goodbye to everything you knew. It was frightening to begin a new chapter after so long. There’s security in the known, in the constant, and now that is gone. But you were ready for it. You were ready to begin a new chapter. You weren’t in this alone. You had Thena and Makkari, and the man you loved and that was all you really needed. The people you loved. 

You look over your shoulder, watching as Druig hugs Phastos, ready to explore the stars.

notes: bookendings with makkari and druig at the end just like how the first chapter was makkari and druig mainly. im making up that dr strange timelooped reader’s physical body so shes frozen in time. idk. idk. he’s also like yeah mb this is important to the cosmos the way he connected the dots that tony start needed to live to defeat thanos. either way druig and reader get to have lots of sex on the domo after saving the world and thena forces makkari to organize her piles of stolen things. mb reader learns to use magic and starts being able to hold her own in a fight.

[nightandflesh]

I made a wallpaper out of a rose I was given ~~ feel free to use 🌹

[randomestfandoms-ocs]

Happy (Belated) Birthday Rose Blossom! (August 1st)

Tag List: @airwolf92 – want to be added?

[ash-and-books]

Rating: 3/5

Book Blurb:

My name has only been whispered, heretofore…

England, 1591. Rose Rushe’s passion for life runs deep—she loves mead and music, meddles with astrology, and laughs at her mother’s warnings to guard her reputation. When Rose’s father dies and a noble accuses her and her dear friend Cecely of witchcraft, they flee to the household of respected alchemists in London. But as their bond deepens, their sanctuary begins to feel more like a cage. To escape, they turn to the occult, secretly casting charms and selling astrological advice in the hopes of building a life together. This thriving underground business leads Rose to fair young noble Henry and playwright Will Shakespeare, and so begins a brief, tempestuous, and powerful romance—one filled with secret longings and deep betrayals. 

In this world of dazzling masques and decadent feasts, where the stars decide futures, Rose will write her own fate instead. 

From the author of The Book of Gothel comes the lush, magical story behind Shakespeare's sonnets, as told by one of his most famous subjects—the incendiary and mysterious Dark Lady.

Review:

Being a woman in 1591 England is not easy, especially when you have a love of drink, music, and are being accused of witchcraft.... and end up in a relationship with William Shakespeare. Rose has always been a free spirit, someone who loves drinking and playing music, who enjoys meddling with astrology and not taking heed of her mother's warning. Yet when her father dies and a noble accuses Rose and her best friend Cecely of witchcraft they must both flee to London. Yet as they begin a new business in London selling astrological advice and casting secret charms.... Rose meets a noble named Henry and playwright named William Shakespeare and enters into a brief and powerful romance filled with betrayal. This started off really fun but kind of lost me by the end. I just found myself not as invested and drifting off while reading this. I initially was really excited about this but I guess it just didn't really hook me in the end and I would say that it was a case of "it's me not you". I do think if you like stories involving Shakespeare and a bit of alternative history or inspired by narratives, this could be for you!

Release Date: July 16,2024

Publication/Blog: Ash and Books (ash-and-books.tumblr.com)

*Thanks Netgalley and Redhook Books | Redhook for sending me an arc in exchange for an honest review*

[demonicappetite]

a rose by any other name

a captive prince mafia au

I. New Mutiny

The Python murders. That's what they were calling it, the recent murders of the four senior Pythons. While an air of concern took over the dirty men of Delpha, the Lions's apprehension went beyond worrying over the unidentified murders. With each senior member dropping dead, the target on the Pythons made itself more visible and tighter like a Kalashnikov getting ready to raise hell all around. And if some barrel was being aimed at the Pythons, there was little doubt that the one with their hand on the trigger was a Lion. Though, this time around, these murders kept being in a state of intricacy to the Lions, as equally as they were to the Pythons. The web got only more tangled when one started to question how the Lions were going to prove their hands unstained of any (recent) Python blood and coming clean out of the other side.

Damianos Valens, heir presumptive to the Lions, a formidable criminal syndicate, meets Laurent de Vere, the younger son of their historic rivals, the Pythons. Without the highly unnecessary additions, it was simpler: Damen meets Laurent.

The first chapter of my Captive Prince mafia au is now available on AO3!

[ghostjelliess]

Hi, I have to rant about naming customs (socially, not for baby):

I was just doing some research on naming rites for a paper (specifically, I was looking at common patterns of forming courtesy names in the Tang Dynasty) and I stumbled over an old reddit thread of people trying to wrap their heads around ancient naming customs in relation to a show. They were struggling with it, repeating the same wiki quotes and theories over and over amongst themselves. It was sad, kind of painful to read.

It suddenly struck me that many people have no concept of their time. Like, without any technology, your name was your word, it is evidence used against you if someone doesn't like you, or your only defense against false accusation. Your identity is tied to your name, your name is tied to your station and your heritage, keeping it close to you is a private right, but also a protection. At a certain point in Dutch history (and maybe Germanic? Maybe it's just Frisian....), knowing someone's full name could tell you their entire lineage, because family names were cycled through in a specific order by birth and relation (so you don't have to remember your whole family tree, you can just rotate the names backwards and get grandparents, aunts and uncles, etc.)—but if one of those relatives was ✨Prolemat-ique✨, maybe you don't want anyone knowing you're blood-related, so you go by your quirky nickname that has more to do with what you looked like as a baby or a particularly stand-out trait or skill than an actually shortening of your formal name.

And that's not even mentioning cultural beliefs in curses, supernatural beings, etc. that could steal your identity or life by the power your name, OR of any of the historical records or folktales of identities being stolen by the presentation of a secret formal (usually royal) name. A princess is stripped of her title because her maid stole her name no one else was supposed to know except for royals and married the faraway prince. A lord is executed because a con-artist used his name at a foreign port and tanked his credit. The name of a god is kept secret because it's too powerful, or else uttering it at all is punishable by death. Claiming to be who you are not, whether a god, a lord, or a princess, that basic manipulation, was so much easier and potentially devastating, that it was seen as a social sleight rather than a personal one, an unforgiveable deception. And when travel is difficult and people consist of a census count, their living name, an ID tablet or charm depending on their class, and their grave, it's not so difficult to go to a place where the face that matches the name is unknown....

But maybe we don't read these pieces in our stories anymore because they've become so distant to us. We think of identity theft in the realm of sci-fi hackers and Guy Fawkes masks, and academic accolades as a list of nobel prize winners and scientific theory names. Maybe we only think about Rumpelstiltskin's name as a complicated trick because it's so strange that it's unguessable, rather than a potential way to control him, to force him to abide by the social rules and not take the baby, an illegal deal, because names make you accountable to actions. Aren't they still our primary identity though?

I was getting a little irritated (and also a little arrogant), in my field of thought bubbles that were all colliding, then a new thought hit me: we do still value naming customs, don't we. The more I thought about it, the more I came up with modern examples of us being protective of our names. We have "that's my name, don't wear it out," as if a name can be over-used. We give our heroes and villains epithets and titles tied to heritage and position. We write our names on every evidence of our work, signing our art, our cheques, our homework, our presentation files, our emails, our letters. Rappers and producers tag their songs audibly, and every souvenir shop has cases of junk accessories with a few of the most popular names, and whether yours is commonly present or not is a marker of social identity. We get mad when unfamiliar people call us by nicknames reserved for close family, or when they shorten our names without our consent; we reinvent ourselves, we change our names, we even give ourselves names to match cultures as we migrate, and that's not even mentioning usernames (particularly in context of online gaming, where you physically answer to your username because you are a teammate to strangers). Even though modern American English (MUSE) isn't considered a diglossia, doesn't have consistent honorifics or sociolects (highly debatable) within itself, we generally still culturally recognize a parent calling our Full Name™️ as uh-oh-in-trouble, a formal warning, and depending on where you grew up, the normal reserved response of "yeah/huh/what?" might become a formal callback of "yes sir/ma'am."

So then I was triple struck with epiphanies like BAM🤛BAM🤜BAM 👊

1. People struggle with the concept of foreign/ancient naming habits.

2. This is not because they are stupid. It is because they do not relate ancient or foreign customs to their own experiences (i.e. they do not observe themselves with the same scrutiny as they do others, while simultaneously still exhibiting similar cultural habits).

3. We do still hold ourselves accountable to our names, we are still protective of them and use many throughout our lives, because humans really haven't change all that much in five thousand years.

[lazypanartist]

Chapter 3

---

A Rose By Any Other Name

Would Feel As Frigid

-

Warnings: mentions of violence, other questionable activities, theft, and the American school system

Notes: a little over half of you said to name Reader, so that's what we'll do!

-

Previous

-

SO chapter 2 finished up the 1st Belle Reve visit. Here we're starting round 2!

---

"And all you did was interview them."

Adam, our yearbook drag-along, seemed annoyed. "Some psych kids can only DREAM of seeing into thoughts of criminals like these!"

Rachel bumped her brother's shoulder, setting her lunch tray down next to his. "Big whoop. The staff, here AND at Belle Reve, don't want us to keep being delinquents or whatever."

"They're sick of us already," I offered. "Guards don't wanna see us, school doesn't want to deal with the fallout if we get arrested. And the inmates probably don't want us locked up with them, for the most part."

Adam scowled at me. Typical maneuver from him, really.

"Yeah? I'm sick of seeing you, too."

I smiled at him, watching as his scowl deepened.

"Feeling's mutual, A. Get any good pictures of Ray and Shimmer? Or did you get to everyone but me?"

"I'm getting student-inmate interactions next time. The guards gave me a small tour of the prison yesterday - it's massive!"

"No kidding.." My mind floated back to the giant gate we had gone in by. "Absolutely huge."

"Next visit's next Thursday." Rachel reached across her own tray, grabbing something off her brother's. He gave her a withering glare, but she only smirked in response.

Adam sighed, turning his attention back to me. "The guy in charge - Mister Strange, I think - said that you guys are doing something a little different next week. Apparently everyone's getting a guard this time around.. not just everyone but you."

"Huh." It was the only intelligent response I could find.

"Yeah," he filled in. "Must be bad if there aren't any exceptions."

I nodded. "What do you think it is? Pairing us off?"

He shrugged. "Good question. Whatever it is, it'll probably get into the school paper."

Rachel sighed. "So everyone knows how much trouble we're in?"

"Nope." Adam nudged his sister's arm gently. "Not if they don't already, of course. School's painting it as an excursion for the inmates to get outside interaction."

"Oh." Rachel perked up slightly. "Because they don't want to spoil their own name?"

"Probably." Adam shrugged. "If it was up to me, it'd be a chance for you guys to learn from your mistakes and see what you could become. Which it is, of course, but that's not what the school's saying."

"Right." I nodded. Rachel copied the action, grinning when our eyes met.

"Good thing, too," she giggled. "I'd hate to have everyone know my sins or whatever."

Adam rolled his eyes. "You were just dragged into it, Ray. You'll be fine."

"Yeah.." Rachel mumbled. All I could do was silently agree with her hesitation.

–

Cameron seemed excited the next time I went into the interview room. I noted in the back of my mind the lack of cuffs, and Bob stepping into the room behind me.

"Casey! Welcome back."

"You seem.. hyper?" I was wary, of course. He hadn't seemed this openly emotional the last visit, and the sudden presence of his demeanor..

His eyes widened, and he looked past me to the guard. "You didn't tell them?"

Bob huffed in what was probably contempt. "Nope. Get up." And with that he passed me, heading towards the door behind Junior.

I eyed the inmate questioningly, and he grinned.

"You're getting a tour! Of course you probably don't want to, but if you keep on your "current path" or whatever you're here for.." he trailed off with his air quotes before motioning for me to follow. Bob was holding the door open on the other side, a similar hallway to the civilian side laid out in front of me. I could see Lainey and Devastation, flanked by two guards, down the hall already.

"Psst."

She glanced back, and I waved. Lainey smiled, returning the gesture before rounding a corner I hadn't seen previously.

Oh.

"So, today's agenda." Junior slowed down, walking next to me in the hall. "Is of course, the tour. From what I hear of my dad's chat with the director, Strange, you're sticking with me all day." He put emphasis on the "all", dragging it out. "That means bunk check, lunch, rec time, everything."

"Fun," I offered. "So, like 60 days in without the jumpsuit."

"Exactly!" He grinned, nudging my arm. I could hear Bob huff in front of us, but he obviously wasn't bothered enough to react further.

We rounded the corner, passing through a door (Bob was behind us now, holding it open.)

I must have gasped. All I know for sure is that the size of the intake was massive - probably to contain some of the larger incoming inmates.

We ventured through a few more hallways, Junior talking the whole way. Things about "two inmates per room", "twenty rooms per side of the hallway", "two sides per hallway", and a few more things about the bunk check. Something about the lifting and shaking of mattresses and bedding to check for stashed contraband.

It's been a while, so I don't remember for sure. I wasn't listening much anyways, instead taking in the concrete surroundings.

It took a minute before I noticed that we weren't following Lindsay and Devastation anymore.

"Hey, Junior?"

His nose wrinkled. "Please, Cameron's fine."

"Sorry.. Cameron. Where'd the girls end up?"

"Oh!" He gestured towards our left. "They took the left hall in intake. Whole place's segregated by gender except intake, outgoing, and interviews. I don't know why we took the long way to bunks.." he glanced back at Bob, who merely huffed as his answer. Cameron turned back to me and shrugged before taking an abrupt right, down another hallway.

"And.. here!" He stepped into a cell, turning around and spreading his arms. "Ta-da!"

I glanced around. It was.. space. Four concrete walls, a metal bunk bed that looked older than Bob.. there wasn't much bedding either. A small toilet took its place in a far corner, a blanket strewn beside it.

"Huh."

He glanced behind me before chuckling, eyes falling slightly. "Yeah. It's not much, but until I'm 25, it's home."

My eyes widened. "Oh, wow."

He nodded before motioning me closer. I hesitated and he rolled his eyes.

"He can't check my bunk until one, you're out of the doorway." I stepped to the side, and Bob walked past me. "And two, my bunkmate's here."

I blinked before taking a step towards Cameron and the bunk. "Who's your bunkmate?"

"Oh, not a big name or anything." He smirked. "Just Mister Freeze."

I blinked. "Oh."

He looked quickly between Bob and I before rolling his eyes. "Oh, come ON! Do we even really have to wait for him?" When Bob didn't answer, he sighed. "He's still shadowing my dad! There's no way he'll get here in time for Case and I to finish the tour!"

Bob thought for a minute before huffing again, passing between Cameron and I. The other teen's eyes widened before meeting mine again, flashing a grin and thumbs-up as Bob struggled up the bunk's ladder.

We kept glancing between Bob and one another while we waited, Cameron offering a smile every time our eyes passed. I started returning them after the third.

Finally Bob came back down the ladder. I could hear footsteps coming down the hall as he painted quietly.. quite a few sets, actually.

"Congratulations, Junior." Cam's nose wrinkled again. "You're set. I'll walk you 'n Casey back t' the chow hall - if it 'as up to me, they'd fully integrate for the tour." He rolled his eyes before turning. "You two'll have plenty of supervision without me there too, but Director Strange made it clear that you," he turned momentarily from the door, pointing at Cameron, "should have another set of eyes on you."

Cameron chuckled. "Thanks for the vote of confidence."

"Like I said." Bob finally got the door back open - he must have jammed the lock - and started back down yet another hallway. "If it 'as my choice, they'd all be in suits with the same restrictions as you inmates. If the school's plan is to scare you kids straight, they need a better strategy!"

I sighed, rolling my eyes when Cameron shot me a confused look before smiling.

"Right. Guards want us here for real? Can't blame you."

I could tell that the previous day's sentiment was true - most people at Belle Reve were sick of us already. Cameron, though?

He offered me another smile in return, nudging my arm. "Please. It might actually be bearable if you stick around."

"For eight years?!" I laughed. "I don't think I'd make it!"

He shrugged. "Hey, if you and me stick together, you'll be okay."

I could tell, even back then, that he was right. Even if I didn't know what it was about..

---

WHOOH finally finished this chapter! So much brain fog rn! Chapter 4 coming asap, love y'all, ciao!

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An Untimely Frost Chapter 19

Hello my dears I am back. 😈☕️💕🌈 Maria girlies this one is for you. 😘

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